Chapter 68: Time Pressure
Harry awoke to darkness.
He breathed in sharply, feeling a tight binding squeezing his ribs. His arms were bent against his back in an odd angle, pressed against something cold and hard. His eyes saw nothing, not even shadows. He couldn't sense Hermione through the tracker, either.
He tried calling her name, but heard nothing, not even his own voice. He couldn't hear any ambient noise, either—no insect sounds, wind, or anything. He tried stamping his foot, but his body refused to obey him, his senses either confounded or destroyed.
Harry knew he'd been injured, as his body ached all over. His sense of touch was alive and well, at least.
He continued to struggle against the binding, searching for a weakness, even though it constricted and squeezed his abdomen. He could taste blood in his mouth, and something else—slimy like mucus, but earthy like dirt. It was absolutely revolting. Harry heaved, feeling bile rise up, but his mouth remained sealed shut.
He tried to determine what the binding was made of, because if his attackers had any sense, they'd bind him magically, and knowing the spell was the only way to break it. He hadn't made much progress, though, when he heard the soft sound of footsteps coming closer, then stopping a few feet ahead of him.
"We meet again at last, Mr. Potter," said a male voice, with the formal, posh cadence of someone born with more money than they could spend. Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, as he recognized the voice.
Harry tried to speak. No sound came out of his mouth.
"You won't be able to talk yet. I've some things to say first, and until then, you will remain silent. Let me lay down your choices. How things progress from there is up to you.
"First of all, you can't hide anything from me. I have read the inner recesses of your mind and will continue to do so every few minutes. So if you think of any clever plots, if you try any schemes, I will discover them and kill you without hesitation.
"Secondly, even if you break your bindings-which you won't-there is nowhere for you to run. Time has trapped us here until we fulfil the conditions of the prophecy. If you try to escape, then you won't get very far, and the entire world will be destroyed.
"Thirdly, the world is ending. This is utterly and entirely your fault. Time, as it turns out, does not like to be messed with, and this is the universe's attempt to fix your mistakes." Harry heard footsteps circling him. "Time has given us one chance to save the world, and that is to kill you before you kill us. If we do not do that before the appointed time, then the world will be destroyed. That time is now."
Harry sensed a lie in there, or at least a half-truth, and he would have tried to dig for information if he could have spoken. But all he could do was stare into the nothingness as the boy went on.
"But before we do that, I'm going to get some answers from you. The most important information you have has been hidden under powerful obscuration spells. That's fine—I'll rip it out of your memories if I must. But that's the hard way, and quite painful. I'm going to offer you the chance to release the spells."
Harry heard a soft muttering, like someone uttering a curse, and realized someone else was here with Draco...if that even was his identity. He wouldn't be surprised if his sense of hearing was completely confounded. And yet, the only thing that felt real in this entire place was Draco's voice, and that said some concerning things about his mental state. Had he been drugged? Why did he feel like throwing up?
Harry was sweating, his mind fending off the multitude of problems he couldn't solve, trying to strike on one that he could. His wand was no longer in his hand, and his pouch had likely been confiscated too. Wandless magic would take time and concentration, both of which he was running short on. He thought he still had his robes on, but what good would that do, maybe he could transfigure the cloth into—
"So, Harry," said the boy. "What do you know about the Source of Magic? Speak."
A moment later, Harry's throat loosened. He swallowed before speaking, so his voice would be clear. "Where is Hermione?"
The circling paused, then continued, the glint of warning in Draco's voice. "The Source of Magic. Tell me everything you know about it."
Harry-after considering his options-starting slowly rambling from the books he'd memorized on the subject. He didn't need to be completely original, he just needed to make it convincing enough that he'd have some time to think. Besides, it would prove Draco's claim that he could see into his-
"Crucio."
Harry screamed in pain, as if his insides were being gutted out with an ice cream scoop. A woman cackled with glee, and Harry struggled not to choke on his own tongue.
The pain released him, the footsteps circling again. Each word enunciated carefully, Draco said, "I see, you know nothing of importance. Let's try this again. Where is the Stone of Immortality?"
Harry, in bleary delirium, couldn't understand how Draco could sound so calm. It made him think of the Milgram scientists, politely ordering the electrocution of innocent strangers. Then again...calm sophistication had been the hallmark of Draco's father.
He was almost sure now that Draco was the one who had captured him, he just couldn't wrap his brain around why, simply being a Malfoy wasn't enough of a reason. And what was this prophecy that had Draco so convinced that Harry was about to destroy the world?
Harry sensed a dim opportunity. He knew Draco to be capable, intelligent, and willing to listen to reason. If there was still something of the old Draco left in there, under whatever he'd been moulded into, then maybe Harry had a chance at bargaining with him.
"The Stone of Immortality," demanded Draco, his voice rising. "Speak."
"Draco," said Harry, taking a chance. "You don't have to kill me. Prophecies are probabilities, not certainties. If you could tell me the exact wording of the prophecy-"
He felt a boot connecting with his stomach, knocking all the air out of him.
"Stop," said Draco, and Harry heard a scoff. "Where is the stone, Harry?"
"Please...Draco, you don't have to do this," said Harry, gasping for breath. "You don't have to be a villain like your…"
"Like...who?" said Draco, again with dangerous calmness.
Harry's blood thundering in his veins, he lowered his head, knowing he'd lost. "Like Voldemort."
There was a pause of about two seconds.
"Accipe Spiritum!"
This time Harry felt all the air drain from his lungs, and the gasping, fishlike opening and closing of his mouth was completely powerless against the vacuum. He struggled violently against his bonds, the constriction on his chest intolerable, but straining only tightened the hold.
Fight, fight, no don't fight! screamed his brain.
There was so much here Harry didn't know, so much pain he couldn't think, and if he could just get something maybe he could use it—
"Cuerpo ligado!"
Harry's body grew rigid. The pain, with no outlet, built inside him like pressure in a balloon.
Air rushed into his lungs, and he gasped. His vision cleared, and Harry could see a graveyard, empty save for grave markers.
"Let me jog your memory, Harry Potter," said an unseen Draco. "This is a small graveyard near my home in Malfoy Manor. Everyone buried here is related in some way to my family line. You might recall there was an incident several years ago, in which you killed five of my relatives. Their headstones are over there."
Harry stared at all the grave markers, unable to tell where this was. His throat tickled, and he realized he could speak. "Draco...I don't know what you're talking about," he said carefully. "But I don't want to waste time arguing about it. If the world really is in danger...well, if you'll tell me what you need from me, I'll do what I can to help you."
There was a certain pause in the calm night air.
"There is...someone I love dearly that will soon be buried here. Someone pure and good. You told me once you cared about human lives, that death is the real enemy. You told me once you cared for me as a friend. I want you to prove this to me now. The only thing that can save her life is the Stone of Immortality. Tell me where it is."
Harry took a long moment to think, and to examine the dark graveyard.
"I don't know, Draco, but I wish I did, and I truly mean that. If the stone exists, then I promise I will do everything in my power to help you find it, even if it puts me in mortal danger. We're on the same side, Draco. Please remember that."
There was a sound like a sigh, and the image vanished into darkness.
"But you did find it," said Draco. "You told no one, helped no one, hid it away even from yourself. And that is all that matters, in the end. Remember, this was your choice."
The mask of darkness lifted off Harry's eyes—he could feel it this time, as it rubbed against his forehead. He caught the briefest glimpse of dark sky and black, curly hair, before something was shoved into his eye. It began to pull with violent force, as if trying to suck his entire body out of his eye socket.
His body was frozen, he couldn't even scream, as that force shoved itself into his mind and issued a command.
"Show me," said a woman's voice. "What happened on the night of June 12th, 1992."
He felt his mind's desperate attempt to comply, careening forward against his will, but it hit a block like slamming into a wall.
Then, the voice grew louder. "Show me Voldemort!"
Harry felt a giant crack, as if something inside him was smashed open, and then scattered images flooded his mind.
A graveyard, Hermione on a slab of stone, clothed in red robes.
A burst of energy from his Patronus surrounding her.
Voldemort speaking in a hissing noise.
Dozens of dark-robed Death Eaters falling, their heads severed.
His wand transfiguring Voldemort's dying body into a ring, tears blurring his vision.
Walking forward, carrying a ring, a glistening red stone, and two severed hands to place around her throat...
A shriek enveloped his mind, just as the stabbing pressure mercifully ceased. His legs gave out, but he did not collapse, merely slumped over against his binding. He could feel himself falling unconscious, but his brain refused to allow him that mercy.
"He lives!" shrieked a voice. "Voldemort lives! I knew it, my master will rise again!"
"Show me!"
There were a few moments of near silence as Harry tuned out the world around him, his brain numb and in shock. In a hazy moment of calm, Harry wondered if that was what it felt like for a surgeon to cut into your brain and scramble it with an ice-pick.
Harry heard a shout, jolting his brain back into action. "So it is true. Harry killed them all."
It was then that the shock of what he'd seen hit Harry. The way he'd woven a carbon web around their necks with magic, then pulled it tight…
I executed them.
He realized he could still see, though his vision was out of focus. Before him was Draco, and the dark-haired woman had to be Bellatrix. This woman who had terrorized London, destroyed the Ministry, killed thousands of people...was the same pitiful woman he'd helped Voldemort free from Azkaban.
His heart sank. At the time, he'd thought he was helping Professor Quirrell save an innocent victim. He'd thought maybe he was a hero.
"Amazing, Potter." Draco's voice was laced with venom. "You killed three dozen people, including my father, in under a second. You made no secret of how much you hated them, so I'm just surprised you didn't do it sooner. It's also clear from your memories that you possessed the stone of immortality at the end of the battle. I suppose it was too much trouble to give my father a second chance as well, the same as you gave your father Voldemort. But I guess some lives matter more than others."
Draco stormed over and gripped Harry by the neck, his blue eyes bright with rage, teeth gritted in a sneer. "Listen up, you hypocrite," Draco spat, shaking him. "Right now, you're going to tell me where the Immortality Stone is. You say you care so much for human life, then don't let that knowledge die with you!"
And Harry actually felt his brain trying to remember, because the pain of having his mind invaded again was too much to bear. And perhaps because he wanted to know the truth of his past. But there was nothing.
Draco cursed, and pushed a golden ring against his eye.
Harry screamed in his mind, thrashed without moving, until his brain heaved up its secrets. Rings, red stones, everything he'd ever taken from the Hogwarts quests…
"Not that!" screamed a command. "The immortality stone! The stone of permanency!"
Something else shattered inside his mind, and he saw the stone. He held it in his hand, along with the elder wand, while he sat outside on a turret of the Hogwarts castle. There was a ring on his finger.
He was inside somewhere, slipping each item off his person one by one, handing them to someone…he tried to see their face...
I'm Henry the Eighth I am, Henry the Eighth I am I am.
I got married to the widow next door. She's been married seven times before.
A dancing old wizard was in Harry's mind, singing the song.
"Merlin's beard-"
The force of the ring tried to move around the wizard, then burst through it, but he remained right where he was, blocking all thought.
And everyone was an Henry! She wouldn't have a Willy or a Sam (no Sam!)
Harry gasped as the pressure in his head built, searing pain deep into his skull, behind his eyes and nose. Harry started to shake uncontrollably.
The sound was distorting in his mind, but continued on.
I'm the Eighth Old Man I'm—AHHHHHHHH! Henery! Henery, Henery, Heneryyyy the Eighth I am! I ammm!
Second verse, same as the first!
I'm Henery the Eighth I am! Henery theeee Eighth I am I am!
A few terrifying seconds later, the pressure ceased, as Draco cried out, "No! Get off me!"
The darkness was shoved back over his eyes, but it did nothing to block the pain.
"Foolish boy!" cried Bellatrix's shrill voice. "You're destroying your mind along with his. Calm yourself, and think! This memory block would only be this strong if it were wilfully submitted to. You need to break his will, and then you'll make him talk."
"How? This ring is supposed to see through any mental block! There are so many things happening we did not predict, and we do not have time for more mistakes!"
"Oh, don't worry. We have exactly what we need to break him."
In the seconds that followed, Harry braced himself.
So they're going to torture me, he thought wearily. He was too weak even to care.
"We agreed it wasn't safe," said Draco warily.
"We can keep her under control. Then again, perhaps she knows where Voldemort and the stone are."
His brain was confused for two seconds, before it jolted in sheer panic. Hermione!
###
Thirty minutes earlier...
When Hermione awoke, blind and rigid under a body bind, she immediately realized the danger she was in.
Aurors were not captured often, but when they were, it was a death sentence. If they weren't killed immediately, they were tortured until they spilled their secrets. Magical information binding—like a Fidelius charm—could limit that, but not entirely. If their captors were patient enough, they would get whatever it was they wanted.
Not to mention, it was sort of hard for Hermione to die. There were a lot of 'interesting' ways they could torture her for a very long time.
Rather than drown in the existential panic, she focused all her attention on breaking free, letting her training take over. She examined her environment, looking for weak points that could be exploited. She'd learned from Mad Eye that even if something wasn't useful in the moment, that didn't mean that it wouldn't be later.
So far, there weren't a lot of options available to her. Hermione's wand was gone, and she could neither see nor speak. Her entire body was completely paralyzed from the head down, and it felt like she was bound by some kind of body cast.
If she could figure out what kind of trap they used on her, she could break it with wandless magic. However, even wandless magic required some form of movement, and she couldn't move. She pressed against the confines of the trap, using all her willpower, hoping to weaken it.
After a few minutes of ineffectual struggling, her ears picked up on the sound of two people speaking in hushed voices. After a few seconds, she recognized one of the voices—Bellatrix Black.
Hermione's fingers flexed, and she felt her knees jerk. She paused, then slowly breathed out, keeping her chest movement minimal. Her magical bind was loosening a bit-which meant it was flexible-some kind of rope maybe? She might be able to loosen it further, but she couldn't be too obvious, or she'd risk Bellatrix finding out. Hermione could hear their voices, louder this time.
"We don't have much longer before the moon rises," said Bellatrix. "We need to wake him."
"No. Give them more time to work."
A sigh. "Fine. A few more minutes. In the meantime, let me even the playing field with this mudblood girl, make her easier to deal with later."
"No. The less we interact with her, the better. Not until it's time."
Behind her back, Hermione's fingers twisted to get a feel for her binding. It was sticky, just like a spider's web.
Hermione's heart sank. Spider's web was almost impossible to break, unless you had some weapon stronger than steel. The web was also deceptively flexible. The more you struggled, the tighter it would bind you. What's worse was that it even bound your magic, so she could cast no spells while it surrounded her. She'd yet to find anything that cracked it.
Bellatrix snorted, her voice high and mocking. "You know, they wouldn't be so hard to manage if we followed the dark lord's example. He used to strip his enemies and hang them upside down, let them stew in misery before he interrogated them. Yet your captives are clothed and resting comfortably! If you're so squeamish about violence, Draco, why not just kill them in their sleep and get it over with?"
There was a moment of silence that felt tense and awful, somehow, and Hermione's fingers slid back into their normal, rigid position.
"Go send her back to sleep," said the boy quietly.
Bellatrix sighed. "This magic resistant tart is more trouble than she's worth. Somnium."
###
Hermione awoke again to darkness, almost groaning at the pounding in her head.
She felt woozy, and her fingers curled, the edge of a sharp object scraping against the pads of her fingers.
She broke out in a cold sweat, her heart hammering. Shifting the object carefully, she tried to angle it against the binding. The edge of the blade was rough and felt...organic? But how could anything like that cut spider silk, which the strongest steel sword couldn't make a dent in?
How had it gotten into her hand in the first place?
She hesitated, fearing this was a trick, but eventually grasped the blade and pushed down, sending it scraping against the spider silk.
The soft rip was louder than she expected. She froze, praying the sound didn't give her away, hope pounding in her chest.
After a few more tries, Hermione was able to turn her wrist, which was pressed tightly against her back, and examine the web with her fingertips.
She blinked in shock. Hermione could feel the damage she'd done to her binding. Positioning her fingers very carefully, she started scratching at the edges of the tear with her blade, stretching her hands in an attempt to rip it more.
She heard a gasp beside her, and then Harry mumbled unintelligibly. There were no words, only three muffled syllables, repeated over and over. Her-mio-ne
Her heart caught in her throat. Their captors cast several spells on him, reducing him to silence, and then it was her turn.
"Why haven't we killed her again?" said Bellatrix. "We could replace her with a spell that mimics her voice. It's not like he has to see the prophecy fulfilled, anyway."
"Just say the spell," came a weary reply.
"Fine. But this is the last time. Somnium."
###
Hermione had a long time to think about what they planned to do with her. Torturing her to get information from Harry seemed pretty high on the list, though Draco's mention of a prophecy made her wonder about ritual human sacrifices. She'd dealt with the fear by working on her escape, hoping and praying her enemies wouldn't notice her.
But when Bellatrix finally came for her, all she wanted to do was inflict pain.
For the last ten minutes, Bellatrix and Draco tortured Harry. She'd listened as his screams turned into gags, as he choked and fainted from the pain. Having to just sit there and take it broke something inside of her. She gritted her teeth and focused everything on the blade behind her back.
There was a metal pole behind her, and the webbing was bound to it. The binding was sticky and thick, but she discovered if she cut and pulled at the same time, the web ripped faster. Within a few minutes, Hermione had broken her right arm free, and weakened most of what attached her to the pole. If she could run fast, she might be able to pull herself free from the rest. The process would probably rip off part of her skin, but that didn't matter.
The bound legs might be a problem, though. She couldn't reach those with her blade. She'd tested out her feet, and they curled and flexed normally under the binding. Even her knees could bend a little. It was a long shot, but if she was quick, she could free both herself and Harry.
The footsteps got closer, and Hermione's senses zeroed in on her target, gauging her location. While Hermione's main goal was still escape, it wouldn't be so bad if, in the process, Bellatrix got a taste of her own medicine.
Bellatrix cackled. "Let's wake her up, shall we? Wakey wakey—"
Hermione raised her hand and punched Bellatrix square in the stomach, and Hermione could feel her flying backwards. The movement ripped more of the web free.
"Arresto—"
She moved to dodge Draco's counter fire, feeling the first shot graze her shoulder.
With a strong burst of speed, Hermione made a sharp twist that would rip the rest of the web and free her to run. But as soon as she moved, she felt it go wrong, her left arm snapping back at an unnatural angle. The web was too strong, binding her in place as something orange and bright came barrelling straight towards her.
Too late, she'd learned what spell they'd cast.
Fiendfyre.
###
Hogwarts, May 15th, 1996
"So what you're telling me," said Flitwick, his voice a rising whisper. "Is that we're dealing with a ritual sacrifice? And not just any sacrifice, but a blood sacrifice caused by time magic?"
Harold and his team said nothing, while Trelawney wouldn't look up from her lap. "Yes, the cataclysm is upon us, foretold since the time of Merlin. I..." Her lip trembled. "I advised those girls, Luna and Romilda. If only I had foreseen this…"
"And in all those prophecies," said Flitwick, ignoring her. "Stretching back from Merlin until now, is it stated what the parameters of that ritual sacrifice are?"
Trelawney's owlish eyes brimmed with tears. "Is it not obvious? A ritual of destruction her bindings must be. London is the sacrifice, and we are lucky if it is only that. If Harry and Hermione fail, then the world will be destroyed."
Harold spoke up, his voice deceptively light-hearted. "Ha, yeah, we're pretty lucky it's only London, I just wish it was Cardiff." He was quiet for a moment. "I get the feeling Luna left these prophecies for me, but...I discovered them just a little too late, I guess."
Flitwick's face was red and sullen, his movements twitchy and combative. He flung himself away from the table and went to the window, staring out at the night sky.
The words of Luna's prophecy sat before Minerva, written hastily on parchment. She scanned it again, desperate and hopeless, her eyes falling on the last stanza.
For the one to save the world
Will surely destroy it
Unless this ritual is kept
And bound by founders' merit
It was that last line that captured her attention. There were many prophecies foretelling the world's doom, and very few offered any hope. But founders' merit...what did that mean?
She puzzled over it. What were the virtues of the four founders? Gryffindor had courage, Hufflepuff was humble. Ravenclaw was wise, and Slytherin showed cunning.
There was nothing she could do to help Harry and Hermione now, but...were the professors of Hogwarts acting like their famous predecessors right now, sitting here cowering and weeping?
Minerva straightened up.
"Prophecies come to the ones who need to hear them," she said, her voice commanding attention. "We can't look at this as a death sentence. We've got to do something."
Minerva started sifting through piles of research. "Look for anything that has to do with ritual or time. Anything that looks useful, take note of it."
"We're already translating the next part of Luna's prophecies," said Harold. "Remus is casting the spell now."
Minerva waited, sorting papers that had scattered. They'd already scanned through many pages of Luna's prophecy, but everything past the journey through the portkey had been murky, hard to decipher. They'd seen spiders, an empty building filled with tombstones, fiendfyre and green lightning. Three would enter, one would rise to power...she hoped that didn't mean what she thought it did.
Still, if the prophecies told them anything at all, it was worth it. We're not giving up yet, Harry and Hermione.
"Hey, it looks like I found something...wait, that's not right."
Her heart plummeting into her chest, Minerva crowded around the globe. "What's wrong?"
A few seconds later, Harold's wide-eyed face appeared. "Minerva, the next picture is not an image of the ritual, it's Hogwarts. You need to evacuate, now."
"Why?"
"You're about to be invaded, and it's going to get bad. There's a lady…I don't know who she is, but she's powerful. There are green spells coming from her wand, and she's targeting students. The words are in all caps. YOUR SCHOOL WILL BE A BARREN RUIN."
Minerva stood up, as did the others. "Harold," she said. "Is there anything more you can tell us? Speak quickly."
"Umm…it looks like the school is engulfed in some kind of green electricity. I see a shattered mirror, and I see monsters in the ashes. The moon and the stars are dark."
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