Chapter 67: Phoenix's Price
Harry realized up until that moment that he hadn't been pessimistic enough. He'd been lulled into treating the maze like a Hogwarts quest, with clearly defined challenges, which he would defeat to earn the reward. He hadn't been truly prepared to win a fight that wasn't even close to fair.
He was regretting that now.
Harry fell to the ashen ground, his snapped portkey by his feet, his leg blistering. He felt dizzy and disoriented, which was not a good sign. The dragon let out a burst of blue flame that incinerated the ground before them.
"Protego Maximus!"
Hermione stood before him, in the direct path of the dragon's fire, a shield raised to shelter them from the worst of the heat.
Blue flame burned at around 2000 degrees Celsius. This was hotter than a crematorium, more deadly than molten lava. And the fire was magical, so the flame freezing charm was almost useless. The clearing was small enough that at any given moment, half of it was bathed in fire. If Harry sustained a direct hit, he would just die, no question. Hermione, on the other hand…
The blast of fire made it past her shield, singing her arm and leaving a red welt. She gritted her teeth, but held on until the fire abated.
The dragon moved, watching them with glowing yellow eyes. Breathing through waves of heat, Harry cast a cooling spell, but the relief barely touched their skin.
Before them, the dragon crouched, waiting for them to move. For some reason, he never went in for the kill, like he was playing with them. Wearing them down, most likely. He moved preternaturally fast, and seemed to track using a sense of smell, so invisibility was worthless. Maybe an air-tight shield spell could provide some cover...if he had two minutes to find and cast one, which he didn't.
Hermione turned to gaze at Harry, her silhouette cast orange by the burning hedges around them.
"It didn't work?" she asked.
"No," he said, wincing as he moved his leg. "Looks like we can't portkey ourselves back to civilization, and all my other working portkeys are basically useless without projectile weapons." Harry mourned the loss of his bazooka, he really wanted to fight fire with fire right now.
Adjusting his wand, Harry took a second to heal himself—he had to be able to walk. He barely managed to cast the spell, his magic and body already pushed to the limit. "Hermione, we can't keep this up."
"I know. We don't have a choice then," she said, turning back to face the dragon. "If we want to get to the cup, we have to split up."
Harry grit his teeth, eyeing the cup which the dragon kept curled by his tail. As far as they could tell, it was the only way out of the maze. It was also impossible to get to…unless one of them created a distraction.
"If I go on the attack," said Hermione. "He'll focus on me, and you can turn invisible and run to the cup."
Harry's leg was healed enough, and he gingerly stood, trying his weight on it.
"He's targeting me, you know," said Harry. "I'm a better distraction."
"Yes, but you're also far better at dying," observed Hermione, biting her lip. "Every time we've tried to move, you've gotten hurt."
He stared at her incredulously. She'd taken ten times as much damage, most of it protecting him.
The dragon roared, fire blossoming in his chest. Harry threw up his shield just as the hot flames obliterated Hermione's, then raged against the edges of his. Sweating and shaking, Harry gripped his wand tight, Hermione recasting her shield to bolster his. As the fire abated, they both panted with relief, lightheaded from lack of oxygen.
"We're exhausting ourselves," she said, breathless. "Please, we have to switch tactics, we can't fight it with magic."
"Actually…we can," he said slowly. "There's a spell that kills any creature that lives, and it can't be blocked."
He saw it click when she understood, her face going blank as her eyes widened.
"Or if you don't want to kill him, we could also use Imperio, though a strong will can resist it. If it lands, the killing curse has a 100% success rate." Harry's face was grim. "If one of us distracts him, the other can cast the curse."
And that's just what Boris will expect, said his Ravenclaw side. He has the killer instinct, just like you. You know what that means, and you know you need to warn Hermione.
Harry grimaced. He hated this plan, even though it was their best chance of making it out alive. Yet even though it was justified, he feared casting an unforgivable would be a mistake. As if this entire battle was a great, cosmic test of their integrity, and they were about to fail…
Screw it, Harry's fists tightened. Listen, if there's any quest gods out there, then give us a way to defeat the dragon without casting dark curses. You have five seconds.
The dragon rose, beating its wings, heaving a massive breath. They strengthened their shields, preparing for another hit. The dragon turned, and instead of fire, his massive tail came barreling from the side.
They didn't have time to prepare, or even to scream before it collided with their legs at the speed of a moving car. Harry was thrown several feet into the air, collapsing onto the ashen grass. Heaving up bile and blood, Harry struggled to rise before the dragon struck again, but something caught his eye.
Lying on the ground lay a silver apple, shimmering in the fire light.
###
Harry reached for the apple, carefully picked it up. The object was cool to the touch. He stared at it for a second. It glinted and flickered brilliantly, like a shining star.
He frowned, vaguely getting the feeling he'd seen it before…
Harry felt it in his bones rather than heard it, the scream of something being burned alive.
Hermione!
His head jerked up, and he saw that—no, she wasn't dead, but her body was burned bright red, as she struggled away from his flame.
He realized in horror that the dragon had been holding back.
She must have gone on the attack, but the enemy wasted no time making her regret that decision, her small form dodging a dragon that moved as fast as she did.
She's trying to buy me time, and I'll be damned if I waste a second.
Harry's first instinct was to cast the killing curse now, or to do something even more stupid and just charge at the beast. Heart pounding wildly, he cast invisibility, slipped the apple into his sleeve, and got to work on his plan. His brain was in overdrive—the rush of adrenaline helpfully supplying the details.
Time to do something rather Gryffindor.
###
Hermione screamed and ran away from the dragon's fire, dodging as he tried to body slam her. It was like an ant trying to avoid a human's shoe, and if she broke concentration for an instant, she was going to be crushed.
Maybe this was a mistake, but how could she not act? After the dragon's tail had flung her and Harry apart from each other, and she watched Harry struggle to rise, she knew there was no more time to waste. Harry was too weak to fight, and the dragon was on the move.
So she'd tapped her chest, strengthening her elemental shield, and proceeded to fire hexes mercilessly at the beast.
One of them—a cutting hex—actually chipped a few of his scales. But that was the last hit she'd gotten before everything had gone wrong.
Now the dragon had her on the defensive, and she was doing everything she could to dodge, but his fire struck her more often than not. She hadn't realized how bad it felt to burn until now, the kind of pain that built rather than decreased, but she couldn't let herself stop moving. She dove under the dragon's tail, running from the corner he'd tried to trap her in. Harry would need at least thirty seconds to reach the cup…or cast the killing curse, she supposed.
Hermione just needed to survive that long.
The dragon turned, his tail swinging at her, but he didn't immediately fire on her. His flames engulfed the cup, melting it and then swinging in a wide arc.
She heard Harry's voice in her ear. "Hermione, don't worry, I have a plan."
Moments later, "Hey you! Over here, ugly!"
The dragon wheeled around, and she saw Harry standing on the other side of the arena. He disappeared as the dragon fired on him, reappearing in some other part. The dragon dodged a curse fired at him, and then another. Hermione's heart pounded, her knees trembling, her body slowly mending itself as she realized what was happening.
Harry had used the Fracturus spell-an incredibly difficult jinx that even Aurors struggled to cast, but somehow he'd done it. He was deliberately baiting the dragon into focusing on him. But for what reason? Why didn't he just fire the killing curse while the dragon was fighting her?
Hermione froze as a second realization hit her.
The dragon was focused on Harry because he knew he would strike with the curse. He expected Harry to do it.
Not Hermione.
She gripped her wand hard. It made the most sense, when she thought about it. Hermione had already fired on the dragon, and none of her curses had been dark. She hadn't even considered casting the killing curse until Harry suggested it.
Could she do it? She knew the words, she knew the wand motion. Aurors had done it in the past, and received a full pardon. All she needed to do was will Boris to die.
She had to do it. There was no other option.
Hermione raised her wand, feeling her conscience rise up in warning. Gritting her teeth, she stilled it, allowing herself to feel angry. Boris was trying to kill Harry. He deserved to die first.
Her voice found the words. "Avada Kedavra."
Not even a puff of sparks came out of her wand, but she still felt it inside, power and rage. She exhaled, tried again, her fingers trembling. "Avada…"
The dragon roared, his fire burning through Harry, a tail smashing into his head. Hermione reeled, her voice cutting off into a strangled scream.
A few seconds later, Harry stepped through the flames unharmed. He smirked. "Boris, you cannot kill me. I am immune to your fire and your strength. Because I am the chosen one, and you? You're nothing but a savage beast."
She saw the barest flicker, realized her Harry—the real one she had a tracker on—was standing directly before the dragon.
The dragon rose, a snort of air coming from its flared nostrils—and then it dived.
Harry stood there, facing the dragon, his hands holding something she couldn't see.
Hermione felt a scream rise in her throat. What are you doing?! If he didn't move in the next few seconds, there wouldn't be time to dodge. Even if he cast the killing curse in record time, it wouldn't matter, the dragon's body would crush him!
The dragon's mouth was open, fire building in his throat, and Hermione was already screaming a spell, but it was too late—
Harry raised his hands, holding a bow stretched taunt, and fired off an arrow.
Seconds later, the dragon collapsed on top of Harry, coughing and heaving. His claws scraped furrows into the earth where Harry once stood. Hermione gasped, her eyes staring in horror, too shocked to even cry.
She heard a cough, and whirled around to see Harry several feet behind her, struggling to rise from the ashes. She grasped him, carrying him to the far side of the arena as the dragon thrashed. His mouth opened and closed like a fish on dry land, his throat making keening noises that raised the hair on her neck.
Hermione saw something flickering in the firelight a few yards ahead of her. The cup!
But before they could move, the dragon lunged forwards, wings flapping madly as he dove towards the cup and then…
The beast froze as momentum plunged him into the earth, his body flying apart into several pieces. One of them landed with a thud beside them—so close they could see each glittering scale in the hunk of flesh that almost crushed them.
For a long few seconds, they stood there, breathing hard. Dust fell in the silence, ashes from the fallen giant.
Then Harry laughed. Doubling over, he gasped and coughed, his body failing to find this as funny as he did.
"Harry?"
"It worked! Praise Merlin, we're alive!"
She blinked, watching him laugh himself hoarse. "What did you do?"
His last few giggles fading, he rubbed an ashen hand against his face, his eyes taking in the arena. "To be honest, I have no clue."
"…Come again?"
"When the dragon struck me, I found a crystal apple, but no instructions on how to use it. Occam's Razor dictated the simplest solution was to put it into the dragon's mouth."
Hermione didn't even realize that her own mouth had fallen open.
"A…what?"
"A crystal apple." He smiled. "But I needed a way to get him to eat it. He was shooting fire from too far away, and not even a baseball pitcher could have hit that target. So I needed to get a clear, straight shot into his mouth, and I needed to not die first. I baited him with the Fracturus spell and a few choice insults, which enraged him enough that he lunged for me. As soon as he was close enough, I used my enhanced archery skill to shoot it down his throat."
"But…how did you get away? You can't teleport your real body."
"Simple, I snapped a portkey that moved me ten meters to the right. It was one of the first portkeys I ever created, and I was lucky enough to have it with me."
The fire around them still smoldered, ashes smeared across their faces and robes, which were in tatters. Behind him, her stone classmate lay in pieces, part of him falling as dust on their clothing.
She took a faltering step forwards, her knees giving under the weight of what had just happened.
He rushed to her side. "Hermione? What's wrong, are you okay—"
She crushed him in a hug, and after a few startled seconds, he wrapped his arms around her.
"Harry...I'm sorry," she whispered.
"What? Why would you be sorry? You saved my life. Your distraction couldn't have come at a better time, and that's why we're both still standing here. I don't...I don't understand this."
She swallowed, her voice coming out hoarse. "I thought…you were going to die, if I didn't cast the killing curse. And I tried, so hard…"
He sucked in a breath, but didn't say anything.
She felt tears streaming down her cheeks, and couldn't stop them. She'd seen Harry almost crushed by a dragon, seen a human being die in a most horrific way, and felt the unforgivable curse still burning on her tongue. Everything felt so wrong, like the last few days were a nightmare she couldn't wake up from.
Hot tears and ashes clouded her vision. Maybe crying is what you did after almost casting an unforgivable, as if her body was trying to wash away the evil inside of her. But if Harry's plan hadn't worked...her weakness, her arbitrary morals, where would they have gotten her?
If not for that miracle, she would have watched another loved one die.
Next time, she thought, clutching him to her. I'll protect you. No matter what I have to do.
After a few minutes, they stood up.
"Come on," said Harry. "Let's go home."
They searched for the cup, which they discovered lay crushed beneath the dragon's body. With a sigh, Harry got to moving the first piece of rubble, lifting it with his wand. Hermione lifted another, setting it into a pile.
It was all going fine—Hermione was successfully not thinking of anything—when suddenly she stepped over a dead body.
A human one.
She covered her mouth, stifling a scream as the unblinking gaze of Auror Kingsley stared up at her.
###
Draco observed the proceedings with the orb-which could see into the maze, as luck would have it. He watched the dragon fall.
He had heard several prophecies involving the dragon. One of them said that the dragon would be the first to die, and the other that he would be the only one to live.
Draco just made the executive decision that things would turn out the right way.
He watched with eager attention, waiting to see his enemies fall. He knew the only way to kill Boris would be a killing curse, and he suspected Harry wouldn't cast it before he was close to death's door. That would make Draco's job much easier.
He watched his expectations shatter when the dragon turned to stone.
His jaw dropped. How was Harry able to do that? There was cleverness, and there was just plain impossible. There was no way he had any weapon left capable of such destruction, Draco would have foreseen it in Luna's…
Unless...no. It couldn't be. The prophecies from Luna and Romilda matched perfectly, she couldn't have altered her prophecy without him knowing it was false. If she had erased anything, it would have been obvious.
Or...would it?
His eyes narrowed, as he gripped the ring in his hand.
Enough games then, and enough waiting. He was more than prepared to fulfill time's ritual, regardless of how this night ended.
It was time for the show.
###
Harry saw the body a few seconds after Hermione, as she stumbled away.
His brain froze.
He knew he should be doing something—trying to figure out why Auror Kingsley was here, or what caused his death. But all of his thoughts were centered on the fact that people looked the same, dead as alive. You might not even realize the person was dead until their body started to decay…
Harry's brain did a kind of jumpstart. Preserve the body.
He joined Hermione where she knelt beside the Auror, taking a deep breath before drawing her wand over him, checking for signs of life. She shook her head, her lip trembling.
"Did your spell tell you how he died?" asked Harry. If it was something unrelated to dragons, they needed to be prepared for it.
Hermione shrugged, her gaze still on Kingsley. "It didn't tell me anything. Only that he's not alive."
Harry had his wand prepared for a healing spell, then a stasis spell. If they could preserve his body, they could take him back to London and revive him with the Patronus. But they needed to be careful, bringing back a body dead from mysterious causes seemed reckless.
Hermione tried again, whispering a different spell. The effect was the same. Nothing.
Then, with a confused look, she reached out and touched his hand, flinching when her fingers slid right through.
Something blazed past Harry, a girl in Hogwarts' uniform with curly hair.
"Kingsley, no!" cried the girl, falling to her knees beside the body. Tears streaked down her face as she gazed at him in agony.
Hermione scrambled away from her body double, eyes wide with shock. Harry pulled her to him, squeezing her hand tight.
"Don't get too close!" said another voice—Harry's body double, though his voice sounded deeper. "He's still contaminated."
Harry turned to examine his other self, flinching in shock. Other Hermione looked about the same, maybe a little thinner, but Other Harry had to be about five years older. He was still gangly, with his hair in a ponytail (Harry cringed inside), but he carried himself with authority beyond his years. Other Harry raised his wand—a knobby, ugly thing—and shot out a powerful stream of magic that swelled across Kingsley's body and the surrounding area.
"The Elder Wand," whispered Hermione.
The Other Hermione shrieked as something squirmed out of Auror Kingsley's ear. It was long and thin, like a line of string that writhed on its own. Other Harry fired a curse at it, and the wormlike creature stopped moving.
The older boy's grim face barely registered emotion, but Harry could tell he was pissed off. "So. I assume that "Cordyceps" curse isn't a part of the Ministry sanctioned tournament?"
"No," said Other Hermione. "Obviously not. But why target the champions? Are they trying to start a war with all three schools?"
"Well, the Undying crossed the line to terrorism long ago," he said. "What's one more enemy? Then again, they have been getting more brazen lately." Other Harry cast a stasis spell around Kingsley's body, which flared a bright orange as it surrounded him.
"The Cordyceps curse eats the brain," said Hermione haltingly. "He'll never wake up, even if you do bring him back to life."
"Yeah, we'll see about that," muttered Harry. "Is communication still blocked?"
Hermione pulled out her Auror mirror, tapped it with her wand, then shook her head. "They're still jamming the signal. It'll take me a while to find a work around."
"Keep trying," he said, then turned. "So. Where does this portkey go?"
The glow of his wand surrounded a cup…not theirs, but one that was unmangled by fire. "Little Hangleton Graveyard." He clicked his tongue. "Quite a long way from the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch."
Hermione blinked. "So, they were planning to kidnap the champion, after all."
"Looks like it. The Cordyceps curse was dragging him in the direction of the portkey, before we pulled him back." Harry put his hands on his hips. "I told you the 'snake vine' would come in handy. My slithering soldiers have been better at recon than the Aurors."
"Yeah, they have," she said absentmindedly. Her wand pressed to her hand held mirror, and it made a sound like windchimes.
"Once I get in contact with the Ministry," she said. "We need to go back and report this."
Harry walked a few paces away, folding his arms. A grim look hardened his face. "No. I'm done chasing them. We're going to end this, tonight."
Hermione faltered. "You want to use the portkey? Now?"
Harry nodded. "We know they're over there, waiting for a champion. So let's give them one."
"Right, an ambush." Hermione's wand hovered over the mirror. "That's not a bad idea. Once we call the Aurors, they can-"
"Hermione, I'm not waiting for them. Not again. We've lost too many lives because of their incompetence."
"Harry…" The wand fell to her side, her gaze filling with concern. "I know you're angry about…the people we've lost," her voice faltered. "But we shouldn't do something reckless."
"Reckless? No, I've been considering this possibility for a while now, what I would do if I ever got this opportunity." Other Harry's voice grew cold, his dark expression terrifying on an older face. "They're cowards, Hermione. They never show their faces, always attacking using unwilling innocents. The Undying have slandered my name and yours, attacked our friends, bombed the Ministry—and they call me a tyrant for not granting them immortality! They tried to kill our families, Hermione! You had to Obliviate your parents to save them, and my Mum…she…" He passed a hand over his face, and stood there a long moment. When he removed it, his expression was replaced with something worse than anger. "No. I've no reason to be diplomatic with them anymore. They cannot be saved. This is an opportunity we might never have again, and I'm taking it."
"It's a terrible decision, you know it is," pleaded Hermione. "And I ought to use your vow to forbid you."
He stared at her, his gaze a challenge. "You wouldn't."
She met his gaze. "I would."
As they stared each other down, his eyes softened. He took a few steps closer, reached out his hand. "Hermione-"
She flinched back, regarding him with wariness.
His hand lowered. "I see. So...you really don't trust me." His voice was steady, his eyes searching hers. "I told you, he's gone. The ring on my finger is my father's rock, nothing more."
She shook her head. "You let him in, let him take over your mind. Trusted him, even after all the evil he's inflicted upon the world, including on me. Even now, I know you're still trying to save him. He'll always be a part of you, and that's why, you and I...we just can't, Harry."
Harry's face was set like stone, but there was pain in his eyes. "I'm...really sorry you feel that way." He cleared his throat, turned away. "All the same, you agreed to come with me to investigate. You trust my deductive skills, at least. We know where the enemy is now, and if I can get a visual, I'll know how many there are. I can make this fight quick and efficient, and we'll strike a blow they'll never recover from."
"Harry, have you stopped to consider that this whole thing might be a trap? For you."
They were silent for a long moment. Then, Harry chuffed softly. "It is possible, isn't it? Perhaps they plan to ambush me. And yet…" He raised his wand, the Elder Wand, and golden flames shot up around his whole body. "I really would like to see them try. I'm very, very hard to kill."
Other Harry (Harry was starting to think he needed a better name) pulled something from his pouch, a palm sized black jewel. Hermione gasped, gazing at him in shock.
"Yes, it's real," he said. "I found it a few weeks ago, and I have successfully removed the horcrux. If Voldemort were here, I would...feel it. But he's gone now, and we have won."
She strode forward to examine the stone, wonder in her eyes. "You have all three Deathly Hallows."
"Slight correction...we have all three hallows." He cupped his hand around her cheek, and this time she didn't pull away. "This golden shield is one of the perks. While we have them, we can't be killed."
She gasped as the golden glow surrounded her, and he ran a hand through her curls. The distrust on Hermione's face warred with wonder and...desire. She still cared for him.
"So, you see, I do have a plan, it's just a bit more Gryffindor than usual." His forehead settled against hers. "Hermione, we're strong enough to defeat them together. If we bring anyone else, we have to worry about protecting them. But if we go alone, we can rely on each other." His next words were almost a whisper. "Say you'll come with me. Please."
Her eyelids fluttered, the soft golden light reflecting her confusion. "It's…entirely against protocol. It's crazy and it's dangerous."
"I know," he said, a smirk forming on his lips. "Just like what we did in Azkaban."
She shook her head. "That was such a mess."
"But you don't regret it?"
After a few moments, she said softly, "Never."
He kissed her, while they stood together bathed in that golden light. Harry spent a few seconds feeling uncomfortable and annoyed, before he realized he was jealous of himself. Badass Harry had achieved everything Normal Harry had ever wanted. He was powerful, immortal, and…jeez, now he was lifting Hermione in a hover. It was cheesy like a bad 80s movie, but he somehow made it look cool.
When they'd finished being cloyingly romantic, they grabbed hold of the cup and disappeared in a flash of light.
Original Harry and Hermione stood in silence for a few moments, watching the embers glistening where the two phantoms once stood.
"Well," Hermione said, the silence stretching. "That was…interesting. It looks like you finally gave up on cutting your hair."
After a few more seconds, Harry responded, "Yes, because the superior version of me had more important things to do, like destroy Azkaban and become Master of Death."
"You thought he was better than you?" said Hermione, glancing at Harry.
"Well…yes," he said, surprised he had to explain. "I mean…come on, glowing shield? Snake intelligence operatives? Permanent shapeshifting and immortality?"
She seemed perplexed. "That's true, but...he seemed really miserable. Both of them did, actually."
Harry scuffed his shoe against the ground. "Well, yes...I noticed that too, but it's obvious they were going through a rough time. If something happened to my mum, I don't know what I'd do."
"Yeah," said Hermione, her voice a little soft. "I can't help but wonder why his Hermione was so upset and distrustful of him."
Harry shrugged. "Not sure. Looks like they may work things out, regardless."
"Well...for the record, I like you better the way you are, Mr. Potter. Shield or no glowing shield." She kissed his cheek, smiling as he blinked in surprise. "Now, how are we getting out of here?"
"Uhh…I suppose we should look for the portkey."
"The one that's supposed to lead us into an ambush?"
"Good point. Let's unearth it, anyway."
As they worked, Hermione said, "I wanted to ask you for a favor."
"Yes?"
"Can you cast the spell of power on me?"
Harry paused a moment, then got back to lifting. "Why?"
"I have a feeling we might need the extra power, in case we have to go through the ambush portkey. I know it's a dangerous spell, but you've got much more experience casting it. You'll be more likely to do it properly."
"Ahh," said Harry. "That makes sense. Buuuut, just so you know, I do have other portkeys in my pouch, both finished and unfinished." He lifted a chunk of stone, setting it aside. "My first portkey didn't work earlier, but that doesn't mean a subsequent attempt won't be successful. I've been looking into warding magic, and there's a few strategies that—"
They heard something rumble, then fall with a heavy thud. In a panic induced response, Harry and Hermione cast twin shields to shelter each other, frantically scanning the world around them.
Everything fell silent.
After a few seconds' hesitation, they released the shield and kept lifting rocks, more carefully this time. One last chunk of rock, and they revealed the incredibly dented, partially melted cup.
Without touching it, they crouched down to examine the portkey. Harry cast a spell, seeking the destination of the portkey.
"Hmm," said Harry. "It doesn't lead to any sort of warehouse. It jumps to the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, then to a location a few miles away from it."
Hermione frowned, tapping her wand against her leg. "That doesn't sound much better."
"No, but like I said, there are other options. We can decide on a location for the portkey we'd like to make, and…what?"
Hermione rested a hand on his arm. "Harry, please. Before we go. I need you to cast the spell."
Harry met her solemn expression. He could argue that there was plenty of time to cast it after attempting to use one of his portkeys, but…
That cup is your only way out of here, and you know it. You've seen it, and maybe she has too.
His nightmares had tried to escape his memory, but a few images remained: a battle, great arcs of magical power being hurled back and forth. He'd thought they were just bad dreams, but it was becoming more and more likely that they were a warning. He could see in Hermione's expression that she felt the same way.
"I know it's a risk," said Hermione. "But I want to be prepared, and…I can't exactly explain why, but I think it's our best chance."
Harry's jaw was working. He sighed and raised his wand, beckoning her closer. "Hold still," he said. "I think the location of the spell on your body changes the effect."
She nodded, and rooted herself in place, her gaze fixed on him.
"Alright," he said, lowering his voice to a half-whisper. "Potestas—"
Something cracked, slamming against the ground like an Earthquake. Harry was thrown off balance, his shot going wide. When he got his bearings, he realized there was a jagged hole in the sky. In its place was a horrid blackness.
A gong sounded, along with more ear-splitting cracks in rapid succession, and Harry saw with horror that the edge of the maze was being devoured.
"The maze is collapsing!" cried Hermione, grasping his hand. "We have to go!"
Harry's eyes found the portkey, a few yards away. "When we get through the portal," said Harry. "Dodge."
There was no time to answer, as the blackness came for them.
###
Hermione fell to the left, missing a red hex by inches. Stumbling to her feet, she ran, even as Harry cried out in pain behind her. She had to get out of here, it was the only way she could save—
She collapsed, her knee screaming in agony as she hit a boulder at 90 miles per hour. When her tear strained eyes looked up, she saw that it was not a boulder, but a tombstone. Husband and father. Died: June 13th, 1992…
A dark monster obscured her vision, its foul body pressing against her face as something sticky drenched her back. She screamed, tried to fight it off, but her body refused to obey. Trapped by the beast, she was helpless to defend herself when a boy appeared before her, wand in hand. "Somnium."
###
McGonagall rapped her fingers on the desk, trying her hardest not to look as annoyed as she felt. She'd been hoping that working together with Harold would reveal a clue between the two sets of prophecies—something that could, just maybe, help them stop the apocalypse. Instead, they were going through technical difficulties, again. This is why prophecies should be words, not pictograms.
"Just a second, sorry," said Harold. "I keep losing my grip on the magic spell. A picture is a lot more dense than words, so much more information, hold on…ahh okay, it says now they face a final enemy."
"Do they mention any names?" asked McGonagall. "In my prophecies, Harry's enemies were always stated to be the Undying."
"Who are the Undying?"
Remus's faint voice cut in, though Harold's picture still showed in the frame. "We've been asking ourselves that question since we heard of them. All we know is that there are prophecies about their rise and fall, usually involving a sword."
"I have one here," said McGonagall, picking up an old, yellowed parchment. "As the Boy-Who-Lived comes into his power, the Undying shall rise against him. They will strike at his heart, and he will strike back with the sword, until it is shattered by the one who wields it."
"What is the sword?" asked Harold, growing confused. "My prophecies say nothing about that either. In fact, they don't say anything about Harry or Hermione's weapons."
"They don't?" McGonagall could distinctly remember, though it was years ago, hearing a prophecy that Harry would receive all three Deathly Hallows. But then again, the Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone had long been lost. "Well...then how on earth do they defend themselves…"
"Hmm," said Harold, squinting at his page. "I didn't see this before. There's a picture of an eye inside a ring. Could that be a weapon?"
"A…what?"
"A ring, one of them is holding it. Not Harry or Hermione, though. It's a girl dressed in red."
"That's…strange." She was really starting to wonder if this was a colossal waste of time. Luna might have been a Seer, but she was also quite imaginative.
"There's other enemies, with question marks over their heads," said Harold. "Maybe they're confused? They're drawn much bigger than the boy and the girl, but they don't have any weapons. The moon is even bigger than all of them, filling up the sky, and there's hands on it, like a clock. Umm, let's see, along the bottom, there's the words…a dragon, a child, and a beautiful lady."
"Ahh!" said McGonagall. "I have heard that." She pulled out a newer parchment from the bottom of a pile: a prophecy from Romilda.
"Mid the fair light of the moon
A choice is made
On a dark night of woe
The price will be paid
Vows will be broken
And souls shall be freed
But what once was undying
A monster will be
A dragon, an heir, and a queen
What happened once, again must be
For the one to save the world
Will surely destroy it."
"That's all?" said Harold. "Mine is a bit longer."
McGonagall had to take a deep breath. He couldn't know that these words were taken from Romilda at a cost to her own mind. He had no idea she'd likely died for them.
After a shuffling of paper, Harold went on:
"Mid the fair light of the moon
A choice is made
On a dark night of woe
The price will be paid
Time's river unbending
Dooms the world to its ending
A ritual of destruction
Her bindings must be
Vows will be broken
And souls shall be freed
By the child of the moon
And the sons of the king
A dragon, an heir, and a queen
What happened once, again must be
Two shall fall, and one will rise
And take their place at time's side
For the one to save the world
Will surely destroy it
Unless this ritual is kept
And bound by founder's merit
No one said anything for a moment, absorbing the information.
Flitwick sighed. "Why are the bloody prophecies always like this? This is absolutely pointless."
"What are you talking about? The moon is a significant clue," countered Trelawney. "And the wording of several lines is unusual enough to warrant a closer look. It's quite clear, for a prophecy."
"Clear?" he scoffed. "It's riddled with holes and opportunities for misinterpretation. What do choice, vows and a river have to do with anything we've discussed so far?" He shook his head. "And don't even get me started on that "save the world" line. It's like the prophecy is vague on purpose."
"It's obviously about Harry," said Professor Trelawney. "He did save the world, when he faced Lord Voldemort as a child."
Flitwick shook his head. "No, he was a child, sitting there while the Dark Lord tried to kill him. Also, we all know there was another who finally defeated Voldemort, likely saving the world in the process. Maybe they're the one this bloody prophecy thinks will destroy the world."
"But it's always been Harry," countered Professor Trelawney. "Many prophecies named him outright as the one who would destroy the world. You heard the prophecy from a few years ago, right? The boy who lived will come into his power, and his enemies will rise--"
Flitwick thumped his tiny hand on the table, but it was surprisingly loud. "Merlin's beard, we've had prophecies that Tom Riddle would destroy the world, too. Thousands of them. Dumbledore spent his life trying to solve those riddles, and went half mad in the process. By the time we figure out anything, the time for the prophecy will pass! We're wasting time, Minerva," he said, turning to her. "Let's focus our attention somewhere, anywhere else."
"Do you have any suggestions, Flitwick?" said Minerva, whose head was starting to hurt. "Because we already searched through the book of rituals and transportation spells, love rituals and death rituals—"
"I don't know, but I'll think of something," said Flitwick, folding his arms. "I've never seen so many conflicting prophecies in my life. It's like time is confused or something."
They were all silent for a second.
"Filius," said McGonagall. "How would time get confused?"
He stared at her, then sat up in his chair. "You're not suggesting…"
"We need to consider how an entire line of prophecy can be shifted. Heavily shifted." She glanced around the room. "Is it possible?"
"Well…if it were one prophecy, yes," said Trelawney. "But there have been thousands of prophecies about this apocalypse, spanning decades. The flow of time was locked into a course. Changing it would likely require a ritual, and a sacrifice."
"A sacrifice? What does that mean?" said Harold.
McGonagall's mind raced back to what she knew about rituals. Time magic was not well understood outside of the Ministry, but rituals were straightforward. The most important rule was that something equal must be given to that which is taken.
"Last year, magic behaved erratically at Hogwarts. Then, almost immediately afterwards, we start hearing prophecies that are different from the ones before. Perhaps the ritual to change time took a year from Hogwarts?"
Trelawney shook her head. "It's more likely that was just a side effect of the time shift, as Hogwarts sits on a great well of magic. All the theories say that changing time can only be done through great sacrifice. Human sacrifice."
McGonagall swallowed. A ritual of destruction her bindings must be. "Let's say you're right…just how much is needed to shift time? Would it require the death of one person, or...a city..."
She gazed at the others, not sure at all she would like the answer.
Then again, maybe she was looking at it wrong. The Hogwarts time distortion happened in 1994-1995, but the 'ritual of destruction' didn't start until now. So...what was significant about those years?
"Harold," said Minerva. "What information do you have on dates?"
After a couple minutes searching, Harold's face appeared in the globe again, frowning.
"Well…" he said. "I don't think I have anything, except this weird prophecy about days of the week. It says, 'Monday's child is fair of face. Tuesday's child is full of grace. Wednesday's child is full of woe.'"
"That's not a prophecy," said McGonagall. "That's a children's rhyme."
They examined their two prophecies again. "Dark night of woe—new moon on a Wednesday. That's today. Has there been a full moon on or near a Monday last year?"
"Yes," said Trelawney. "One of them was on May 15th, 1995."
"On the Ides of May," said McGonagall. "I'm willing to bet that's when it happened, the event that started all of this. Mid the fair light of the moon, a choice was made. And now we're…paying the price."
###
From HPMOR Chapter 77:
"Fawkes gave me a mission," the boy repeated, "and I will carry out that mission if I must break the entire Ministry to do it."
"And the true fight, the fight against Voldemort?" the old wizard said in an unsteady voice. "What will you do to win that, Harry? Will you break the whole world? Even if someday you gain such power, you are not yet beyond prices, and perhaps you never will be!"
The black mist darkened and lightened, like a shake of the head. "I am frightened of Harry Potter," it whispered. "Of the coldness in his eyes, of the darkness that grows behind them. Harry Potter is a killer, and anyone who is an obstacle to him will die. Even you, Hermione Granger, if you dare truly oppose him, the darkness behind his eyes will reach out and destroy you. This I know."
"Then you don't know half of what you pretend to know," Hermione said, her voice a little firmer. "I'm scared of Harry too. But not because of what he might ever do to me. I'm scared of what he might do to protect me -"