Chapter 71: Ashes
"Confrigo!" Hermione cried, and struck the barrier.
There were several seconds of silence as the barrier absorbed the strike.
The earth under her feet rumbled, and an intense thunderclap struck the air and rattled her bones.
Instinctively, Hermione's feet shuffled into a defensive crouch, but she could still barely stand. There was nowhere within sight that wasn't shaking like a pot about to boil.
"You idiot!" cried Draco. "Do you have any idea what you just did?"
As the Earth rumbled, a dangerous electric whine slowly built amid the thunderclaps.
"I…I was trying to break us out."
"That wall isn't a barrier, it's a bomb!" cried Draco. "The only way to defuse it is to complete the ritual by sunrise."
"Killing you can't be the only way—"
"It's a DARK ritual," sighed Draco. "Involving a sacrifice of Time and a catastrophic loss of human life. If we don't follow the instructions to the letter, we fail, and time rips us apart."
The electric whine rose in warning, drowning out noise and rattling her from the inside out.
"Congratulations, Hermione." Draco's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "You just destroyed the world!"
###
"So that's what this is all about," said Dumbledore, awareness dawning in his eyes. "You didn't want to die, you wanted to harness the energy of the dead!"
"Yes, yes." Her fingers plied the hidden controls. A sequence of commands locked him in place, so he couldn't hide. "Not to mention the well of magic within Hogwarts that you've been guarding this whole time. The Source of Magic can no longer create such power, at least not until it starts breaking all its rules."
"It is impossible to travel to space using magic," said Dumbledore. "You know that."
"Yes," said Perenelle. "I'm very much aware of Earth's Binding. But it only can last as long as the Source of Magic does, right? And right now, it looks like time just might be crazy enough to allow it."
Dumbledore stared at her as she worked, his face lined and sinking into weariness.
"You wish to return home so badly you are willing to destroy everything," he sighed. "When all this time, you could have had a home here."
She ignored him, priming the mirror with whispered magical invocations, causing the edges to glow and hum with vibration.
"You maintain your prejudice to the end." Dumbledore's eyes never strayed from her face. "This is why you are alone."
A prickle of annoyance swept through her, but she knew better than to engage. She whispered the last spell and felt the mirror fall still.
What do you desire?
She looked up, a stray hair flipping across her face. She pulled the ring of power off her finger. "That's enough. Tell me where—"
"Maman?" said the mirror. "C'est toi?"
Standing before Dumbledore was a little boy, staring at her with eyes as black as her own.
The hair stood up all over her body.
"No." Her voice came out hoarse. "Stop it."
Her fingers gripped the mirror, but still that mournful boy stared up at her. His soulful, gentle face that would always haunt her memory. His little fingers stretched out to her.
"Ne pleure pas maman."
Holding back a sob that rose in her throat, she slammed the side of the mirror, and the boy disappeared.
As her shock morphed into seething anger, she scooped up the ring from where it fell. "Are you proud of yourself, Dumbledore?"
His eyes held hers in challenge. "This is my world, Perenelle. I will defend it by any means necessary. And you ought to remember what is beautiful about the Earth before you destroy it."
Her fingers locked on the mirror, eyes boring into Dumbledore's.
"You have no right to judge me, brat," she spat. "You preach to me as if you were my father, as if you could possibly understand what I've been through. Years upon years have I lived, enough to run rings around your pathetic existence. And everything I have ever wanted- down to the last shred of my freedom and dignity-has been ripped away from me by these self-righteous men who think they know what I ought to do! But hear this now: I am done taking orders. You will TELL me how to get to my people if I have to rip your mind apart piece by piece!" she screamed, rattling his mirror in the grip of her hands. "Where are they?!"
And through the mirror, across time itself, Perenelle finally glimpsed the solar system, the exact pattern of the stars that the Ancients occupied. It winked out of existence as soon as she saw it, but it was burned into her memory. She turned from the mirror, stormed back to her circle, tears burning in her eyes.
"You go to your judgment," said Dumbledore, his body continuing to flicker.
She ignored him, walking to the pentagram's edge and closing the gap with a swipe of her foot.
The circle of power completed its circuit, glowing red with power.
She stepped inside, and it flooded her, that almost familiar feeling of deep power seeping into every pore. It electrified her body, and with effortless ease, she started the long litany of spells that would protect her while she folded time and space to reach her goal.
Deep in the vast cavern of space, she saw it. Their ring of planets, each more lovely than the last. Crying out, she was caught between two desires.
The first to see her people with her own eyes, embrace them once again.
The next to snap their necks.
###
Draco had split into two.
One of them was dead, gunshot to the head. The other was alive and trapped on the ground, screaming as the incessant whine grew louder and louder.
Hermione saw a copy of herself lying on the ground, eyes open and unseeing. Harry—the one with the ponytail—knelt beside her, crying. Another version of her was banging her fists against the barrier, while a third was pointing a wand at Draco.
I'm seeing my choices, past and future, thought Hermione, through the earsplitting whine. And all of them end in death.
She remembered her final Hogwarts quest, and the pain of that searing, white hot energy as time fractured. It felt like passing through the sun, a giant wall of fire that separated reality from annihilation. That wall, which was about to collapse on top of them.
There was barely any time to contemplate the horror of what was about to happen, and she didn't know if that made it better or worse.
Harry-the one with the ponytail- turned to look her in the eye. She froze as he opened his mouth to speak, then disappeared with a thunderclap.
The rumbling dome of energy pulsed, and started to cave in, like a star about to go supernova. Hermione's other selves evaporated as the girl decided how she would spend her final moments.
I don't want to die for nothing.
Hermione fell on top of Draco, shielding him with her arms.
###
Hermione stood in a place of darkness and bitter cold.
Am I dead?
She felt cold, hard pressure against her feet, and realized that she was standing on something. It was still too dark to see anything clearly.
She shivered, rubbing her arms, and keeping her eyes trained on the ground.
Hermione sometimes, before falling asleep, would feel terrified of the dark corners of her room. She had the sense that if she looked in that dark place—if she opened her eyes or turned on the light-she would see a demon standing over her.
That was the fear she felt in her bones now.
The darkest part of space…that was where she couldn't look. A cold sweat drenched her as the feeling of dread pressed in.
"Hermione?"
She turned to see Draco unbound and standing behind her, his face ghost white and terrified. Barely moving, his lips whispered. "What…is that?"
The response was a silence so deep and loud it felt like another bomb.
Twisted hands snaked around Draco from behind, roving his body. He grasped for Hermione in panic, and she screamed as Draco's face collapsed inward, the hands closing over his eyes.
"Unjust…"
Hermione turned and saw a pit of sickly, green fire, and from it rose the shadows of chittering monsters.
"Murders...thieves...gluttons..."
Draco screamed as the shadow creatures ravaged his body while dragging him away, and Hermione saw a red eyed shadow looming in the distance.
"Vengeance," it whispered.
Her body locked in place, and she could do nothing but watch as the creature floated rapidly towards her, it's twisted hands grasping her by the shoulders.
Its touch was a cold fire that burned her flesh and seared a scream into her lungs.
"Break...burn!"
This is hell, she realized. I'm going to die forever.
Let...her...go.
The hands released her, and she fell down, collapsing onto her side. The world was dark and empty once more. Then, as she rose to her feet, she saw a bright, glowing light.
Oh. Pretty.
She gazed at it, unexpected tears welling in her eyes. It was fragile, yet beautiful. She reached out and touched it, and it felt warm and comforting. This light was joined by others, like flickering candles, or strings of Christmas tree lights. Yet they seemed incredibly precious, like small pieces of infinity.
A young girl stood among the lights, playing with them, smiling as they flickered past. Hermione sat down, feeling a wave of peace. All the lights flowed together, the soft sound of music running through the air.
Hermione had never seen something so pretty. But not only that, it was...vast, unknowable, yet intimately familiar. She wondered if, in a thousand lifetimes, she would ever be able to truly understand what she was witnessing. She felt that this had to be reality, and that pit was just a horrible dream.
Then she saw a green blast of fire rip through the peaceful scene. It struck one of the lights, and she watched in dismay as it bled out its flame into nothingness. Then another streak of fire, and another, killing the lights until the entire land was on fire, the ground caving in around them. The lights let out a long, futile scream as they died.
The vision shifted, and she saw Voldemort in a crowded street, casting curses on screaming wizard children. He inhaled deeply, then laughed through distorted features, and she realized where he got his power from. It was all from turning life into death.
On a dark night, she saw Voldemort entering a home, killing Harry's mother, and his father. Then she saw baby Harry in a crib—alone and defenseless.
Hermione ran to protect him, but Voldemort's dark form got there first. He twisted Harry's spirit, distorted it in a way she did not understand. Then he was left crying, the light corrupted.
Hermione watched helplessly as visions, horrific in their intensity, showed these curses passing down through the centuries. The very first curse down to the last, all of them rose up to condemn the world. She saw a village tortured by a plague of demons, people dying in agony, and then she saw babies hung from ropes in a tree, far from town. Their cries were supposed to keep the evil away.
Their curse did not save them, but the image of that evil act was burned into time.
She saw where people tried to rise up against the darkness—heroes like Godric Gryffindor, Albus Dumbledore, the Longbottoms—and she watched as the darkness opened its giant mouth to consume them. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she watched Neville's parents cursed into insanity, Albus's family destroyed, those deaths etching their crime into the core of the earth. They bubbled up like a noxious brewing mass that sickened her. She covered her eyes, whispering, "No more…please, I can't watch—"
"No more!" cried a great voice. "I can't!"
The flames rose up from the pit, the disfigured forms of souls screaming in the shadows. The earth cracked and trembled at the sound of their cries, threatening to erupt with all the power in their fractured souls.
Draco screamed behind her, and she turned to see him writhing in pain.
Crucio!
Hermione looked down to see her own hands stained with blood.
No…
She clutched her midsection, feeling that evil green curse coiling inside her. She threw up, hoping the curse would come out too, but it didn't. It was unforgivable.
Hands seized her, dragging her to the pit.
"No more!" cried the voice.
Please, she thought. I'll do anything!
Murders, gluttons, adulterers, liars...
Their cold grip of iron hauled her away, her heels dragging along the edge until they threw her down into the pit, heedless of her screams.
As she fell, flames erupted around her body, and through the sharp pain she heard something whispering into her ear.
Enough.
Her knees hit something hard, and she collapsed onto the ground, shivering and crying.
She felt a presence. There was someone with her.
Hermione raised her eyes. Before her stood a girl, standing alone amidst a sea of cold fire.
"Can you heal me?"
The girl's body was battered and bruised. Green flames rose and surrounded her, but her eyes remained clear. She gazed intently at Hermione, waiting for an answer.
Hermione didn't know what to say. She knew that whatever the girl was, she was not human. Perhaps she was a god. She had no idea what the girl was asking, but she didn't know if it was possible to heal that kind of pain.
"I…I don't think…"
The girl and the fire pit disappeared, and she saw another vision.
An army of humans rose against a giant mountain, the city of the gods. The gods had released a terrible plague on mankind, and the humans came to destroy them. With swords and fire, they approached the home of the Ancients, but realized only too late that they had disappeared. The gods had abandoned them. They turned to Merlin, the traitor to his people, their only hope…
Hermione saw Merlin standing before the girl, at the gates of time.
"Can you heal them?" he asked. "I'll do anything."
The girl said, "Will you give me your life?"
He nodded.
"Then," she said. "I will give you mine."
Hermione saw light flooding Merlin's body, and the vision disappeared. She looked down, and saw the same light running through her own veins, glowing under her skin.
"This is my life," the girl said. "If I help you, please save me."
"How?" asked Hermione.
The girl did not respond, but merely looked at Hermione.
"Please," said the girl.
A rope of snakes wound around the girl, tightening around her neck and ankles. The girl fought, trying to save herself, but the sound of a great roar filled the air, and billions of lights—human lives—were extinguished.
The world was completely dark and silent.
Behind her, Hermione heard chanting in Latin. She saw a man in shadow, feeding a stream of the lights into the flame. The girl screamed as she was squeezed by the snakes, her body close to splitting apart.
"Wait!" cried Hermione. "I…I'll do it! I'll save you!"
"No!" cried the man's voice. "Don't—"
There was a great explosion, and the fire rose and consumed them all, a white light that blinded out all her pain.
Hermione fell through the void, and landed somewhere very hard. She opened her eyes.
It was dark, but she could see the faint light of stars. She sat up, and saw cars parked in the street, brick buildings rising from concrete. In the distance, she could see the still smoldering Ministry.
She was in London.
Behind her, a voice groaned. Hermione turned to see the mangled body of Draco. His skin was a red welt of burns and gashes. Some were the jagged marks of nails against skin.
"It's all my fault." His hand scrubbed his face as he wept, smearing blood against his cheek. "All my fault."
What just happened? There was...a girl. Beautiful stars. Cursed fire. Tears came to her eyes as she stared at the dark city.
Will you save me?
Hermione rose to her feet. There was silence, as a cold wind whistled over them. Her teeth chattered and she felt numb, like the entire experience hadn't really happened. Maybe she'd wake up and find the whole thing was a dream.
Harry.
Her eyes intently scanned the area, searching for Harry. Maybe he'd be standing beside her, looking confused and a little annoyed…
But Hermione couldn't see him anywhere. Not even his body, just…nothing.
It won't matter anyway, said a voice in her head. You can't bring him back. And you can't save the world, either.
She heard Draco gasp in alarm, and she turned to him.
Hermione's eyes widened as she saw a horde of dementors descending upon them.
###
Draco scrambled to climb to his feet, though his legs protested. He fell several times, until finally he gave up and crawled on his hands, knees and elbows.
It was his fault. He had let the dementors into the Ministry, and they had escaped into London. They'd been trapped there, feeding on souls, lying in wait for him. The Priestess had said he should use the dementors to his advantage, as a weapon. She had lied.
Both of them needed to run. Draco could barely stand, and Hermione had neither wand nor magic to save her anymore. The loss of magic was what did Harry in too, at the end.
All my fault.
But even if, somehow, Hermione could cast a spell…it was one witch against thousands of dementors. That was greater than the whole horde of Azkaban.
He turned back to where Hermione stood, facing the vast, dark cloud of dementors. Draco still had his magic, and he could cast a Patronus, so maybe he…
Ha ha! You must be joking, you pitiful pile of hippogriff dung!
Draco's hand slipped on the pavement, slick with blood. He groaned as he landed wrong, cradling the throbbing, bloody stump of his right hand. There were nail marks along his torso, where he'd tried to peel away the cold, dark hands. But he couldn't scrape away those memories, the lives of everyone he had slain.
You were wrong about everything. Wrong about the prophecy, wrong about Perenelle, wrong about the end of the world. You killed them all for a lie.
Time and magic had deemed him unworthy—a smear on the surface of the earth. Even his body bore the evidence of that. He was the villain—and everyone knew that villains were cowards.
So he kept crawling on, leaving Hermione, the hero, to her fate.
###
It just doesn't end, does it?
Hermione watched the demonic cloud descend onto the pavement, like a plague of locusts. The light from street lamps dimmed and distorted as they passed, the temperature dropping. A gasp escaped her lips as she stumbled backward. The exhaustion went deep into her bones, and she knew this was a battle she couldn't win, even if she could cast a Patronus.
If I were smart, I would run. But seriously, what would be the point? We can't survive a plague like this.
Another voice chided her.
Come now, Hermione. Imagine we're facing them together. I'll help you.
The horde of dementors clouded the sky before her, floating forward in tattered robes. She could feel them trying to latch onto her soul, to suck out the marrow of her happy memories. But, strangely, she felt their attacks slide off like rainwater. There was no bitterness, no pain. Just the memory of Harry's hands bracing her shoulders.
Remember that the thought doesn't have to be happy. It just needs to be inspiring to you.
Hermione tried to think of something "inspiring," but all she could think about was how alone she was. No wand, no friends, no future...what was even the point, if the world wants to die, then let it.
She shivered, then retreated deeper into her mind.
Harry wrapped his arms around her, placing his hand over hers.
I want you to think of something important that you want to protect. Now, imagine that thing being attacked by dementors. Think of protecting them from death. Use that thought to reject death as the natural order.
Hermione frowned, remembering the pit of monsters. Maybe…death was not the worst enemy mankind had to defeat. It was something inside you, a darkness you couldn't escape even if you died, that would follow you into eternity.
So...in that case, what were the dementors?
They were the senseless horror of a battlefield. They were the madness of a dark wizard. They were holes in the world, where nothing had become a cold hell, that devoured, and devoured, and was never satisfied.
Hermione opened her eyes, and saw the dementors for what they really were.
These black holes in the world…were once beautiful stars, pieces of infinity.
We were just like you, once.
Hermione raised her hand, did the first few motions for the Patronus charm.
Look at you, playing the hero. You can't save anyone, murderer.
She tried to remember the beautiful lights, holding them in her mind like a shield, but the dementors immediately ripped them away from her, twisting her thoughts. She saw Harry and Tonks dead, Luna and the Weasley twins destroyed. Bellatrix's neck snapping in her hands.
The horde laughed as she was falling, falling into the pit, scraping her fingernails on nothingness. You'll go back there, in the end, you belong to us...
Then she felt Harry, holding her gently, stopping her fall. She gripped him tightly, feeling his warmth and steadiness.
She thought of all the Aurors who still held on to the light, and fought for justice even when hell stood against them. She thought of all the innocents they protected. How lucky she was that someone had protected her, had loved her, and kept her from losing all hope.
Hermione saw Tonks standing at her right hand, giving her a smile. She heard a distant cry, and the light of a wolf Patronus bounded forward into the darkness.
Harry's voice echoed in her mind, as if he were still at her side. We're facing down the dementors together. We're protecting each other.
Ha! You will die fighting, as all the rest did.
She was shaking from the effort of holding herself upright, her body felt so cold. But she knew that even if the dementors struck her down, it didn't matter. Someone would come along to take up the fight.
Another light found its way into the darkness, an otter, and a flicker of hope sparked inside her.
As long as there's one light, we can start a fire.
She raised her arms and cried, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
###
Harold watched as a great light exploded in the streets of London.
He shielded his eyes, ducking behind the alley with the others. He heard a faint gasp from the Unspeakable beside him, wand trembling in his hand. Even Madam Bones sat still in awe.
As soon as the light faded, his brother Kingsley helped him to his feet. Five of them in total had come to fight, those who could cast a Patronus. Up until the last second, Harold hadn't believed their plan would work. They were only here, facing down a thousand dementors, because Madam Bones convinced them to go down fighting. "If you're going to cower in fear, then you're already dead."
In the streets, where once the horde of dementors terrorized the survivors of London, Harold saw the pavement littered with tattered robes.
As they looked on in shock and awe, a tinny voice echoed from Harold's hand. "She's here! Oh I knew she would come!" the voice cried. "We thank you, oh great angel of wisdom! You saved us from the Ancient's folly!"
"Trelawney, in Merlin's name, get up!" chided the stringent voice of McGonagall, before her voice got louder and clearer. "Remus, can you hear me? What happened over there? Did the plan work?"
Remus moved to take the communication stone from Harold, who'd held it for safekeeping. On the one hand, Harold felt it was a terrible sin to bring a priceless, fragile artifact into battle. On the other hand, the Hogwarts group would be able to keep tabs on them in real time, and they'd all feel a little less alone in this apocalypse.
As it was, "the Hogwarts group" wasn't exactly in Hogwarts anymore. They were hiding in a hovel in the Forbidden Forest with as many survivors as they could find, biding their time before they could escape their own time prison.
Remus turned in a half circle, his wand searching the dark street corners. "I hesitate to say this," he said. "But I think we might be safe...for now."
McGonagall gasped in consternation. "There had to be at least a thousand dementors. Just...who...or what...did this?"
In the near distance, a bright light flickered. "Over there," said Kingsley, pointing.
They hurried towards the flash, and Harold couldn't help but wonder if maybe they shouldn't be running towards danger. Then again, if they could learn anything about how to get out of this apocalyptic prison, it might just be worth the risk.
The flashes slowly flickered out as the five of them converged on the spot. There-in the epicenter of the pile of tattered robes-lay a girl with wild curls. Her robes were stained and torn, her eyes closed as if in deep sleep.
Remus started towards her. "Hermione-"
Madam Bones reached her first, even hobbling on her damaged leg. Kneeling down, she said the girl's name, and waited. No response.
"Madam Bones, be careful," said Remus.
"What's happening?" asked McGonagall.
"We found a girl among the fallen dementors," said Remus. "It's Hermione."
There was an audible gasp, and then all of the Hogwarts team started talking at once.
Wand at the ready, Madam Bones reached out to touch the witch's shoulder. Her hand sank through to the pavement.
Harold blinked. What?
"Quiet, quiet all of you! How is she? Is she alive?" asked the tinny voice of Minerva. "Are you still there?"
Madam Bones stared down at her hand, then back at the girl. "She's translucent and...flickering, like a broken portrait. I can't touch her."
Then, before their eyes, the translucent girl sat up and looked straight at them.
"Hermione? Can you hear us?"
The girl stood up, painfully slow, her body continuing to fade.
As everyone stared in shock, a thousand thoughts raced through Harold's mind.
Was Hermione the one who saved them? Did the dementors do this to her? Or was it something worse? Would they all disappear too, eventually?
And if Hermione was in the city this whole time...where was Harry?
###
Harry Potter stood in a place that was very dark, like ink had spilled over his life and covered every page. He took a step, and little ripples of colour appeared under his feet. He observed them as he continued, thinking it was odd how familiar this place seemed.
"Hello again, Harry," said a voice.
Harry turned around. He saw Dumbledore behind him, standing in a stately pair of robes. The colours swirled beneath his feet.
"Where am I?" asked Harry.
Dumbledore smiled, in a kind, grandfatherly way. "Where you have always been, deep in your own mind. Only now, it is separate from the reality of your body." Dumbledore had a small bowl in his hand. "I am to give this to you. It is only fair, I think, that you remember. Even if our plan didn't work the way we wanted it to."
The bowl dumped over his head, and Harry's world exploded in light.