The Story so far: Tom Pilgrim (once known as Voldemort in another dimension) has arrived in the year 1996 searching for a book called the Matrix Aeternitatis. A book which contains terrible knowledge. Someone, however, already seems to be seeking it out. Making an alliance of convenience with Albus Dumbledore (who remains unaware of Pilgrim's true identity) he has continued to pursue the Matrix, which appears to be leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. After escaping from an airship which the Lord Voldemort of this dimension assaulted Pilgrim and Dumbledore arrived back in Scotland only to discover that several weeks had passed. The Ministry has placed the Doom of Nimue upon Britain preventing apparition, portkeys and floos from being used. Hogwarts seems to have been attacked by a mysterious force and is now all but inaccessible. Harry Potter and most of the upper years of Hogwarts students are missing, presumed dead. Reluctantly Dumbledore has agreed to leave to counter Voldemort. Meanwhile, Pilgrim for his own reasons has decided to join an expedition into Hogwarts.

Lost

We hear it more and more frequently now. It keeps pace with us. It circles us always now. At night we hear laughter. Each day it comes a little closer. The whistlers follow. I can no longer sleep. Merlin help me.

Extract from the journal of Michael Durnford, 'Kestrel' to the second expedition.


The pine trees were whispering. Leather boots tramped over the forest floor. The sun was hidden behind a veil of thick evergreen leaves and a dull grey blanket of cloud.

The column of aurors wound between the trees. Pine needles rasped over the heavy scarlet wool of their robes. Now and then a twig snapped underfoot. They were subdued. Conversation was almost non-existent.

Luciana, or Luci, brought up the rear of the party. An auror should, she felt, have been more at ease. They had seen neither hide nor hair of any living creature for days. Only the fact that their packs had been missing several days of supplies and the two empty bedrolls in their tent suggested otherwise. Of the owners of the rolls there had been no sign. She could not remember who might have been sleeping in them. The lack of any night-watchman had left questions that none of them had wanted to answer.

Occasionally they heard from far away a high whistling. It had been tuneless. Of the whistler there was no sign. After a short consultation the first time they had heard it the unspeakables, Sebastian and Mildred, had declared that it was the product of the wind in the trees. The stranger, Pilgrim, had caught her astonished look and met it with a wry smirk at the unlikely explanation. She had turned away, almost as unnerved by his cold, dead-eyed gaze as by the whistling.

Later Captain Morgan and the unspeakables had called a halt before slipping away into the trees when the whistling had begun again. They returned, silently, half an hour later. No one, not even Pilgrim, who usually remained aloof save for the odd dry remark mentioned the whistling again. Whenever it began, circling around the party, they fell silent and marched steadily onwards till it had passed.

Luci grunted, half hauling herself up a rocky precipice before Clara caught her hand. The taller auror gave a heave and pulled her over the lip of the granite boulder. They paused for a moment, waiting for the unspeakables to catch their breath. Clara gave Luci's hand a squeeze and shot her an encouraging smile before they began the march again.

The wind was picking up. Trees creaked slowly overhead. Underneath their boughs the were largely untouched, but the wailing slowly grew in Luci's mind. She watched her companions distractedly, letting herself fall into the rhythm of the march.

Hike would, perhaps, have been a better word. The trees crowded together too closely now for any sense of cohesion. They slipped after each other where possible, but all too often the branches closed between them leaving those behind to forge their own path.

Magic could have sped their progress. Yet, each time Luci contemplated drawing her wand she found herself reluctant. It was a relief when they came to a long clearing some time after eleven. The clouds had darkened, threatening rain. The chilly wind kissed her cheeks as she stepped out from under the trees. It was a welcome relief after the damp stillness of the woods. Sebastian and the Captain stepped to one-side, holding a muttered council. Pilgrim prowled around the edge of the clearing, peering at the shadows. Occasionally he tapped a tree-trunk here and there.

'You okay?' Clara asked Luci. She had sat down beside her on a fallen menhir. Digging around in her pack she pulled out an oat bar and took a bite.

'I guess so. Don't think I realised how much those trees were getting on my nerves,' she said, flexing her shoulders. It was if a weight had been suddenly removed from her chest. The relief was nearly enough to make her giddy. She sat down and leant her head against Clara's shoulder.

'Tired already?' Clara asked.

'It's this place. I feel as if something's just a step behind me. All the damn time. I keep wanting to turn around and look. There's never anything there. But, it's too empty. Turn back round …'

'You feel as if it's behind you again? I know what you mean. All those trees make me feel like I'm in a crowd. And I'm a country-gal, not some soft southern city-girl like you,' she threw in with a wink.

Luci jabbed her elbow into Clara's ribs gently, but she couldn't stop herself from grinning a little. 'You talk such rot.'

'I wouldn't be me if I didn't.'

They sat like that for a few minutes, hands clasped under their overlapping cloaks. Luci watched as the Captain first frowned and then almost snarled at the pale unspeakable. 'Perhaps we oughtn't to sit too close. I don't think the Cap's quite forgiven us for not warning her that we were "emotionally compromised",' Luci whispered, reluctantly unentangling her fingers from Clara's.

She put a hand behind her and moved to stand. As she did so her fingers closed over something small and hard. She pulled it up, studying it without really thinking. It was a knuckle bone, on which hung strands of dark moss.

'Lu, what is it? Lu?' She could hear Clara distinctly, but as if from a great distance. The bone was much smaller than her own knuckles: a child's.

'I … Captain, you ought to see this,' Luci called out as she turned around to peer at the ground where she had found it. There were footsteps and voices rising in question. They were muted and far away as she ran her fingers over the moss and loam feeling the many bumps and rises. Scrapping through it she dug down. Her fingernails scrapped against the roots of a pine tree which stood nearby, bleeding red sap. There was another bone hooked between them.

'What is it?' Campbell asked. 'Oh, I see.' Then he was kneeling on the ground beside her, thick fingers pulling the roots away.

'For heaven's sake, are you wizards or not?' Pilgrim asked waspishly.

'Wait …'Luci realised that the voice was her own.

It was too late. There was a swish of a wand behind them. The tree shivered. Roots curled and twisted inwards. Layers of bark peeled away from the trunk, writhing. The tree wilted into a sapling. The sapling diminished into a single seed. The seed faded to dust. Luci and Campbell scrambled backwards as the earth and pine needles rippled, flowing to the sides as if pushed by a stream. Then they settled.

Luci's breath caught in her throat. Her skin prickled with goosepimples as she waited. None of them were breathing, save for Pilgrim. Her blood pounded in her ears. Above them the trees creaked in the wind.

'You're a bloody fool. Put that wand down,' the Captain hissed.

Luci tore herself away from the sound of the trees. For a moment she thought she could hear a distant whistling. There were many bones where the tree had stood. Pilgrim's spell had cleared the debris in a neat circle. Within it a mass of yellowed bones stretched outwards. Many more, Luci realised than could have come from one body. At least some were human. The skull proved that, though the femurs that had been fused to the jaw made her wonder for a moment. Even once she had realised that it was not until Mildred muttered, 'It looks like a horse', that she saw the pattern as a whole.

'A centaur?' Ted asked, squinting at it.

'No, these bones are human. Look at the toes. Look at how many have been added to the legs.' Pilgrim said. 'This isn't a corpse, or even several. It's a work of art.'

'This is foul,' Sebastian muttered. 'I've never heard of black magic like this really being practised.'

'You would not have done,' Pilgrim said as he ran a long finger down the unnaturally long spine. 'As I said, this is a piece of art, not magic.'

'How long has it been here then?'

'How long can a man lie in the ground before there is nothing left of a man?' Pilgrim asked, though Luci could not tell if the question was rhetorical. He picked up a long bone, perhaps a fibula, Luci thought. The others watched him uncertainly.

He leant over the bones like a raven searching for scraps. His fingers danced nimbly amongst them, hooded eyes running over them with a disconcerting fascination. Without warning he spun the fibula in one hand and licked it. He tossed it to the side and spat. Mildred retched.

'Three or four years. No more.'

'Did you have to do that?' Captain Morgan growled. 'What in Mordred's name is wrong with you, man?'

'Nope,' Pilgrim said, standing up.

Luci backed away, putting herself in front of Clara. Tension thrummed through the air.

'We ought to move on. The castle awaits, I'm sure,' Pilgrim said. Without waiting for the others, he began to march on down the clearing. His wand was out again, flicking backwards and forwards in short, sharp patterns over something in his hand.

The Captain grimaced and then snapped, 'You heard the man. Look lively.'

Beechnuts tumbled away beneath Luci's feet as she half slipped, half slid down the steep slope towards the rill. Water shimmered, dark and tempting in the fading afternoon. It swept around mossy boulders, licking the handing ferns. She could see the very first sprouting green of bluebells or wild garlic. The winter must have been unusually mild in this fold of the hills for them to have already started pushing upwards. It was all too probable that a harsh frost or the snows which fell so heavily around Hogwarts would snuff out this first attempt at life until the seasons changed.

'There's something beautiful about this, you know,' she said, catching herself on a tree as she waited for Clara and judged the next slide down towards another green and silver tree-trunk. 'Every now and then I forget how wrong it is.'

'But how is it wrong. Sure, something's following us, and we should have reached Hogwarts already, but what's wrong here? What have we seen that's wrong beyond the normal gamut? We've investigated murders that used the worst of the dark arts!' Clara said, sliding down to the tree with her.

'Sorry?'

'You say you forget something's wrong, and I know what you mean, but that's what bugs me most. Sure that … thing back there was creepy as hell, but why was it worse than normal? We walk away from a crime; we go to the pub we have a few drinks and try to forget. But this, I don't think any number of drinks would help.' Clara pushed off from the tree, skittering down the slope until she thumped into another.

Luci stepped out and made the half leap down as she followed. For a moment the pit of her stomach fell away as she almost fell. A small part of remarked that it was absurd for someone who regularly flew to feel that still. 'I don't know. There's something about this place. The air, it's so clear. The trees, even though it's winter they're … look, I don't know, it's just different.'

'Fresher? Younger? As if no-one's been here,' Clara said, reaching out and pulling Luci towards her over the last few feet to the tree where it stood, half a dozen feet above the stream. 'It feels rich to me. It feels as if everything here is bursting with life and death,' she stopped then, as if she were embarrassed.

Luci's skin prickled and she shivered, fingers meshed with Clara's underneath the spreading branches of the beech.

'It's almost primordial,' Pilgrim said, interrupting them. He was perched a few feet away on a fall log. Captain Morgan and Sebastian beside him. The other two seemed focused on a rough stone bridge which stretched across the small fissure through which the stream ran. It looked as if it could have been sitting there for centuries. 'Which is why this concerns me so much. Captain with your permission?'

The other aurors were joining them, slipping out of the forest and onto the worn earth around the stream. In the gloaming shadows fitted back and forward behind them like memories floating beneath the silent trees.

'Tell me, auror, what was your name again? It seems, like so much whilst we've here in here to have slipped my memory,' Pilgrim said. 'Nevertheless, tell me, do you notice anything remarkable about this? Just observe with your eyes first, if you would be so kind. Describe it to me.'

Luci shot a questioning glance at the Captain who simply shrugged. 'Luci, sir. It's an old bridge. I'd guess at least a hundred years old on first impressions. Style is traditional, rough stone, probably muggle made,' She moved closer, examining it more closely, 'or meant to look muggle made. The mortar, it is too fresh, not powdery enough. The moss and lichen don't make sense either. They're too evenly spaced. It's as if someone made a bridge and then tried to decorate it to look old.'

'Good work Luci, and tell me, how do you think they made it?' Pilgrim asked. He had moved up beside her without her realising and despite herself she flinched. His presence was predatory, almost feral.

She scraped a finger over the mortar and stone, testing it. 'The stone looks as if it's from around here. I don't think the mortar's conjured either, it's a bit too hard and the colour varies. If it had been conjured, we'd probably see something a little softer with a single hue. Whoever made this probably held the stones in place and then used magic to make and apply the mortar. I'd guess it was a two-man job.'

'A reasonable deduction, but wrong,' Pilgrim said. He stepped forward beyond her, beckoning her and the Captain forwards. She breathed a sigh of relief. He felt, she realised, as she imagined a cat must feel to a bird. There was an underlying feeling that at any moment he might decide to snap her neck.

'Pilgrim, do we really have time for this?' Sebastian asked somewhere behind them.

'Look here,' Pilgrim said. He pointed to where the bridge joined the bank.

'What am I looking at?' Captain Morgan asked.

'There is no join. Even if it had been made, as the good auror suggests, it would have a join. This grew from the bank. It was not conjured or made. I doubt any spell was ever cast here. I have tried every spell I know which might reveal such a thing, which is saying something, but it seems that this is and always has been here. No one made it.'

'So? I don't see how that matters now. If it isn't a trap we can pass on by.'

'It matters because it grew to look like a bridge. The sort of bridge we would expect to find somewhere like this. Try and pluck some of the moss,' he told Luci.

Luci hesitated for a moment and then fished a pocket-knife from her robe. She pressed the blade against the verdant moss which crawled over the bridge, but instead of sinking in the blade simply slide over the surface.

'What …?' She asked and drew back.

'The bridge, the moss, it is all one thing. Not life per se, but something close. This place is forming itself, possibly even at this very moment,' Pilgrim explained. 'If I am not very much mistaken it is feeding off us to do it. I am sure you've noticed it. Forgetting things, uncertainty? The empty bedrolls? A sign that people are missing, or an expression of our own fears?'

Was that a trace of ghoulish glee in his face? Luci wondered. She looked around at the company of aurors, some of them still staring out into the forest.

'Fair enough. Say you're right, what can we do?' Captain Morgan said.

'You can't do anything,' Pilgrim said with a smirk. 'You are already inside the belly of the beast. Luckily for you I am here.'

'Do you try to sound like an arrogant arse, or does it come naturally?' Captain Morgan asked.

'My charms are entirely natural. In any case, I am not arrogant, I simply am that good,' Pilgrim said. His wand was in his hand, though Luci could have sworn she hadn't seen him draw it.

'You talk the talk, but what's your plan. It's getting dark, faster than I'd like,' Morgan said.

Around them the branches rattled in a breeze that Luci could not feel. Some way away there was a high-pitched whistle. It hung for a moment on the wind and then faded. A few moments later another whistle replied, closer than the first. Luci swallowed, resting her hand on the hilt of her wand. Five red robed aurors stood beneath the trees, sentinels she could not pretend she felt would be able to withstand whatever was coming. They might as well have been made of paper for all the good it would do.

'You all attended Hogwarts did you not?' Pilgrim answered pointing to Luci, Morgan, Clara and Sebastian.

They nodded and he smiled, teeth gleaming in the failing light.

'Perfect. You know the protean charm, captain, master unspeakable?' Pilgrim said, then without waiting for a reply he continued, 'Remarkable spell. It connects objects, or even flesh. Not usually useful given that you're flesh and Hogwarts is magic and stone. However, here memory is a little more corporeal …'

'So, you can connect the memory to the reality here?' Luci interrupted.

'Bravo, auror. Indeed, with a few people to root the spell to, yes. Once I've done that all I have to do is trace the connection,' Pilgrim said, slowly clapping his hands.

'That's not possible though,' Sebastian protested. 'If that were true we could trace every Death Eater down with just one of them.'

'Well, you couldn't,' Pilgrim said with a shrug. 'In any case, are you going to protest or take a chance on me?'

Sebastian turned to the captain, 'Morgan, even basic spell modifications are risky. If he's wrong, he might melt our brains out of our skulls! If we could rest for a day Mildred and I could probably come up with a way to break us out of this labyrinth.'

'And how many times do you think we've had a conversation like this?' Pilgrim asked softly. 'How many days have we been in here? Do you want to risk forgetting again, allowing them a chance and losing track of where we were?'

'What if I've chosen your path every time till now?' Morgan challenged.

'Then perhaps we are making progress. What is certain is that we are not following his plan anymore. Either it failed, we forgot, or we chose my path. Maze spells end one of three ways captain: you find the key and break out; you walk to the centre; you die. Let us try cutting to the centre.'

'How certain are you that your plan will work?'

'Around seventy per cent.'

'Does that number have any real meaning?' Morgan quizzed.

'Not really, but I do like the sound of it,' Pilgrim said.

There was a brief pause and then she nodded. 'I'll live to regret this …'

'If you live either you won't regret it or you won't remember it to regret it,' Pilgrim cut in.

'… don't make me regret this Mr Pilgrim.'

'I shall do my best,' he said as he began to spin threads of silver from his wand over Morgan. 'Aurors, if you would be so kind as to join hands with your captain? I need absolute silence, or you actually will be wiping your brains off the floor.'

Luci felt Morgan's hand grip hers. It was surprisingly soft and smooth, chilly to the touch. Clara's hand found Luci's other hand, warm and slightly damp. They stood still in a triangle, waiting as Pilgrim moved around them, weaving light through the air. Luci's eyes flickered over the aurors who were still standing beneath the trees. Campbell's broad back flexed occasionally. Theo was twisting his hands occasionally, fingers interlacing. Ted leant against one of the trees, at ease as always. And then there were the other two, standing to attention, hoods up against the cold. Luci blinked, that didn't seem right. She counted again. There were two others, standing amongst them, backs turned. The whistling had stopped she realised, but her blood was ice.

Pilgrim was still moving, but the silver light from the spell was fading away. The threads wrapped around them before fading away as tiny bobbing flames materialised over Pilgrim's outstretched palm. Still though he kept chanting.

In the corner of her eye she saw a figure in red moving, drifting between the trees. Time slowed to a crawl. Her tongue was lead in her mouth. Pilgrim crossed her vision, mouth forming words she could not hear as her blood pounded in her ears. He passed by. The figure was closing now, stepping closer and closer to Campbell. Her fingers, interlaced with Clara's and Morgan's, felt like a chain. She watched frozen unable to cry out or speak as it stepped up to Campbell and laid a gloved hand on his shoulder.

He turned towards the figure, towards Luci. For a moment he met her eyes and then his attention flicked to the figure. As if from a great way off she heard the screaming begin. Pilgrim's step faltered for an instant and she felt the spell tightening around her like iron bands. It was painfully tight around her chest, biting into the flesh, cutting off air and sensation. Clara's hand dug into hers, fingernails cutting into her palm. Then Pilgrim was moving again, his wand a blur. The bands loosened and she could see again.

Campbell was transfixed. She watched the motion beyond their little circle as if through treacle. Ted and Theo were turning, wands rising. A second figure was closing the distance towards Mildred, arm outstretched. Its face was obscured by the shadows and even so Luci turned her gaze away.

The world came back to her with a thump and she realised she was on her knees retching.

'Get up,' a cold voice ordered. It took her a moment to recognise Pilgrim's voice. 'All of you. Get up and run.'

There was a chaos of sound at the tree line. Snapping and screeching shattered the evening. She stumbled to her feet, heart pounding. Clara was with her. She ran, oblivious to the world. Her feet found the way without her thoughts guiding them. She could feel her breath burning in her chest and the blood pounding in her ears.

For a moment she looked back. There were others running with them, Morgan she thought, and Sebastian. The handful of tiny flames danced ahead of them. Behind them though there was fire and something more. A leaping, twisting shadow stitched together with golden thread which barred the bridge. Her feet bore her away and she lost sight as thunder shook the trees.

She didn't know how much later it was when they stopped running. The whistling had died away behind them and they fell panting to the ground. There were six of them there in total, she counted them again and again: Ted, Sebastian, Morgan, Clara, Theo and herself, of the others she saw no sign. As she lay on the cold, damp leaf mould she studied their faces, grey in the dim and alien starlight.

How long they lay there she could never have said. The adrenaline slowly receded from her limbs leaving her trembling. When she heard footsteps coming through the trees all she managed was a choked sob. Captain Morgan scrambled to her feet. She wobbled, planting a hand against a tree to steady herself.

Surrounded by flitting flames as if from burning candles Pilgrim strolled towards them. If he was concerned it did not show on his face, but there was something tired in his features as the flames illuminated them. 'I see you have found the castle. Excellent. I could do with a bed,' he said.

Luci rolled herself towards where he was looking. Between the trees the Moon was breaking through the clouds. In its light stood a cracked and broken ruin of a castle.


A/N: I decided to upload this chapter in the end. This is about the fourth or fifth draft and I'm not happy with it, but if I don't put it up now I might never continue this story. Now though let's hope I can start to get to work on it again.