Friday 17 April, 1998:

At precisely three o'clock, Tom Apparated to the front doorstep of his daughter's house. He hadn't seen Lena or his new granddaughter since Tuesday morning, due to some consulting work that had come up – regarding the current state of pandemonium the world was in due to the non-stop disasters that had been plaguing it the entire week – and he was eager to check up on both of them. While waiting for Lena to answer his knock on the door, Tom wondered if she was starting to feel a little more like herself. She had been extremely distracted on Tuesday – which, of course, was understandable for a new mother of a three day old baby. Not to mention the sinkhole that had killed five-hundred-and-eighty-seven people on Saturday occurring so close to where they lived.

Lena opened the door, and upon seeing him standing there, froze for a split-second. Then there was a spark of recognition in her eyes. "Hi," she said quietly.

Tom frowned. She looked exhausted. "Is it all right that I've stopped by?" he asked tentatively.

She stood to the side, allowing him entrance. "Of course," she said. "But I've only just got Matilda to sleep, so–"

"I won't disturb her," promised Tom, coming inside. "It's mainly you I wanted to see anyway." He waited for her to close the front door, then inquired, "How are you?"

Exhaling, Lena leant back against the door. "Tired, obviously," she replied with a strained smile. "But otherwise, I'm… I'm okay."

As they walked to the living room, Tom asked her, "And how have the last couple of days been, with Remus back at work?"

She shrugged. "I'm managing."

Again, Tom frowned. He was sure there was something bothering Lena, but before he could press the issue, she started to ask questions about the consulting work he'd been doing the past few days. She wore a neutral expression as he explained how the International Confederation of Wizards were trying to investigate what was the cause of the disasters. Since Saturday morning, when four had occurred at the same time, there had been at least one disaster always happening somewhere in the world. And there were always casualties – the combined death toll over the past week was now nearing two thousand. There hadn't been another one in Britain since the sinkhole, but everyone was sure it was just a matter of time, creating an atmosphere of uncertainty and fear over the entire country, both throughout the Muggle and Wizarding societies alike. Lena simply listened to him, contributing very little on the subject – which surprised Tom, as she usually had a theory for everything, and always delighted in sharing (or showing off) her brilliance with him.

After ten minutes or so of their mostly one-sided conversation, Tom hesitantly requested to go up to the nursery, just to see Matilda. For another strange moment, he thought that Lena was going to deny him permission, but instead she nodded and led him upstairs.

In the nursery, Tom looked down at the peacefully sleeping baby girl, and smiled. His perfect granddaughter: he couldn't wait until she was old enough to properly spend time with him. He would tell her stories, show her his collection of fascinating magical artefacts, spoil her with presents for every birthday and Christmas, take her on outings, write to her when she was at Hogwarts–

Suddenly, he felt the most immense jolt of pain in his mind. But it wasn't his.

He looked up at Lena sharply. She was standing in the nursery's entrance, one hand tightly gripping the doorframe, while the other was curled into a fist that was clutching her shirtfront. Her face was still a mask of perfect neutrality, with the exception of her eyes – they were gazing at him with an indescribable agony. And despite her best efforts, that agony was leaking out of her, spilling into the room's atmosphere so a highly-trained Legilimens like Tom could sense it without trying.

Their eyes met for a few seconds. Then Lena quickly turned around and went into her and Remus' bedroom, which was directly opposite the nursery. She sat down on the side of the bed, facing away from Tom. But he could see that she was starting to tremble.

Tom glanced down at Matilda one more time, then crossed to Lena's bedroom. Cautiously, he sat on the edge of the bed, leaving a few feet between his daughter and himself.

"Lena," he said softly, "what's going on?"

She shook her head, refusing to look at him. "I can't tell you," she whispered.

"Of course you can." He shifted slightly closer to her. "I'm your father."

A strangled noise came out of Lena's throat, something between a sob and a laugh. "Yeah. Right."

Tom's stomach twisted. She hadn't sounded sarcastic, but there was still an element of disbelief in her voice – and it stung. "Lena–"

"Please don't ask me again to tell you what's wrong."

"But I have to," Tom told her, moving closer to her again. "I have to, because you are my daughter, and I love you."

This time, Lena did look at him – with anger. "No," she said violently. "You think you do, but you don't."

It was like a punch to the gut. "Lena!" he cried, appalled. "How could you–"

"How could I?" Lena stood, her bottom lip quivering. "How can you sit there and talk about love, like you understand what it means?"

Tom stared at her, bewildered. What had happened to his Lena?

Trying to stay calm, he stood up too. "You think after twenty-two years of being your father–"

"YOU ARE NOT MY FATHER!"

At once, Matilda began to cry out, woken by her mother's loud, furious, pain-filled voice. Immediately, Lena rushed back into the nursery to tend to the baby, leaving Tom in the bedroom, shocked into immobility.

Lena had never once questioned the validity of his claim of fatherhood – neither before nor after he had explained to her she was adopted – so where had this outburst come from? Was it because she now had her own child, and considered her bond with him lesser because they didn't share blood? Or had something else happened?

Tom took a deep breath, then joined Lena in the nursery again. She had picked up Matilda and was frantically whispering apologies to the wailing infant. After a minute, the child was consoled and laid back down in her crib, and Tom took this as his cue to speak again.

"You can lash out and try to hurt me all you like," he said quietly. "It won't make me any less worried. And it certainly won't make me love you any less either."

Lena, her hands still grasping the edge of the crib, closed her eyes for a few seconds. When she opened them again, Tom knew she was fighting back tears.

"I know it wasn't fair of me to speak like that to you," she said. "But none of this is fair. It never was."

"What are you talking about?"

She looked down at Matilda again. "I used to think I was Sisyphus, eternally pushing a boulder up a hill, only for it to roll down to the bottom again once I neared the top," she murmured, more to herself than him. "But then I was given a pair of wings, and I abandoned the boulder to become Icarus and fly too close to the sun. Now, I fall endlessly; past Lucifer and all his friends; deeper and deeper, beyond the lowliest of the low…"

Now, Tom was frightened as well as worried. She sounded quite mad. Taking a step towards her, he said as gently as he could, "Lena, I don't think you're well."

She glanced up at him. "Well? Oh, no, we're long past that. 'Unwell' doesn't even begin to cover it." She smiled sadly down at Matilda. "Isn't that right, my darling? Mother ruined everything."

Matilda responded with a small, uncertain noise.

Tom felt like his heart was cracking. "Lena, please–"

Lena ignored him. "Mother has blood on her hands, doesn't she?" she whispered to Matilda. "And now she's got it all on you too…"

"Stop it," said Tom forcefully. "Stop talking like this now."

"Why?" replied Lena, still not taking her eyes off Matilda. "It's not like it makes things worse. They can't get worse. This world has already started to collapse, and I can't stop it."

"Collapse?" Tom furrowed his brow. "Are you talking about all the disasters? Lena, I know it's frightening, but like I told you, the magical communities from all over the world are banding together to find a way to end them."

"But they won't succeed," she said simply, finally meeting his gaze again. "This world will have torn itself apart before they even understand why this is happening."

Tom wanted to tell her she sounded insane, like a madwoman shouting on the streets about how doomsday was approaching. But despite the overwhelming pain emanating from her that he could sense, there was such an absolute calmness and certainty in her manner that it was cutting through his own fear and panic and telling him a horrible truth: she was right.

"Lena," he said quietly, "what's going on?"

She didn't reply for a long time, just looking at him as a dozen different emotions collided on her face. "Like I said before," she finally whispered, "I can't tell you."

"Lena–"

"But I can show you."

Tom stared at her for a long moment. He could feel in his bones that there would be no going back from this, that saying 'yes' was going to make everything harder. He didn't want things to change; he just wanted his daughter to be who he'd thought she was before he had knocked on her door less than twenty minutes ago.

But ever since four-year-old Lena, sitting on his lap while he had untangled her hair, had told him he 'wasn't allowed to die', he had known there was more to her, something Dark and frightening. But he had tried to ignore it, to look away and pretend it wasn't there, because it scared him. Because he was a coward. And in that way, he had failed her as a father.

No more.

Tom nodded, and Lena picked up his hands and placed them on her temples. He took a deep breath, then looked past her eyes and to the Occlumency shield that protected her mind. A second later, a door appeared in the wall and he opened it.

And Tom saw everything. He saw a great sorceress named Hecate, who had craved power more than anything – until she fell in love with a man whose heart was broken beyond all repair. He saw her destroy herself in the attempt to bend Time to her will, leaving behind only a blackened heart encased in a shell, its lust for power never to be satisfied.

He saw a small girl, whose mother inflicted cruelty after cruelty upon her. He saw anger and hate grow inside her every day. He saw a monstrous man who, upon noticing the girl's rage and Darkness, decided to become her teacher. And Tom knew this monster was the same Lord Voldemort that haunted Remus' dreams.

And he knew this monster was him.

He saw the twisted affection – and, eventually, love – that grew between the student and her teacher, before he abandoned her out of a selfish shame. He saw the lonely girl come into possession of Hecate's heart, and how it began to poison her, and the temporary reprieve from its threat when she was forcibly separated from it. He saw the girl grow up into a young woman who was clever and ambitious and loathed herself. He saw her cold, miserable heart tentatively begin to let the affection of others creep inside, and the love that began to bloom again when she met a kind man who could see there was more to her than she pretended.

Then he saw the monster force himself back into her life, and the pain it caused the young woman. He saw her struggle to reconcile the kindness and love he had given her with the hurt and evil he had done to others. He saw her finally make her choice as she literally broke free of him.

He saw her happiness as she married the man she loved. And he saw that happiness she had fought so hard for being ripped away from her as the past finally demanded recompense for the mistakes she had made and the bad she had done.

Tom watched her give herself away, and the new woman that took her place – one who was too intoxicated with power to remember what she had learned; who knew everything, and understood nothing.

Time was rewritten. But Hecate's heart wasn't satisfied. It never could be. The world would never be enough. So, reality was punishing her.

It was forcing her to make a choice. An impossible choice.

The door shut, and Tom was once again looking into his daughter's eyes. There were tears in them, but she still refused to let them fall.

Tom had no such compunctions; he let them stream down his face. His hands slid slightly lower to cup her cheeks, as he said in a trembling voice, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Lena." It was both an apology, and a condolence.

She swallowed. "I know," she said, lightly touching his hands. "I know you are." Her whole body was shaking again, yet she still didn't cry. "Just… tell me what to do. Please tell me, Dad."

When she called him 'dad', it hurt even more than when she had yelled he wasn't. Because now he knew how much it hurt her.

But there was nothing he could do to take any of the pain away. "I can't do that," he said honestly. "I can't tell you what to do."

"Please," begged Lena. "Just tell me what to do, because I keep getting it wrong, and I can't do that again, I can't, so please tell me." She gripped his upper arms, like she was clinging onto him for life. Her anguish was almost suffocating him. "I don't know what to do…"

Tom tore his gaze away from her for a moment to look down at Matilda, lying in her crib. She was still awake – not crying, but he knew the six-day-old baby was anxious. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, then turned back to Lena.

"Yes, you do," he told her softly. "You've already made up your mind. That's why you're hurting so much. What you want from me is what you always want." He smiled, even as his tears continued to fall. "Affirmation of what you've already decided to do."

Saturday 18 April, 1998:

"Sweetheart, are you all right?"

Remus blinked, looking away from the window to his mother. She was sitting on the sofa in the living room of his childhood home, watching him with her typically caring, maternal expression.

He gave her a small smile. "Yeah," he told her, coming over to sit next to her. "Sorry, there's just… a lot on my mind."

Hope patted his knee. "Of course," she said understandingly. "I remember when you were just one week old; I was so focused on you I could barely do simple, everyday things, like make a cup of tea without putting orange juice in instead of milk…"

Remus struggled to maintain his smile; yes, just yesterday, the ordinary difficulties of new parenthood had seemed almost too much – not to mention still coming to terms with the fact that his wife had been presenting a façade to him for the last four years, as well as the aftermath of the horrible, freak disaster that had occurred so close to their home and the many others that continued to rage across the world. But now, those were the problems of a different man.

Last Night:

When Remus came home from work, he found Lena sitting on the armchair in the nursery, staring at the crib in which Matilda was sleeping. He didn't say anything to her, just taking the chance to gaze down at his tiny daughter and resisting the urge to pick her up and hold her.

"My father came around this afternoon," said Lena, very quietly.

"Uh-huh." Not wanting their voices to wake Matilda, Remus gestured to Lena to leave the room with him. She stood and they went outside, stopping in the hallway between the nursery and their bedroom.

Before he could ask her anything, Lena continued, "We spoke about your dreams. The ones with Lord Voldemort, and where I'm not around."

"Oh." Remus stared at her. She didn't sound especially perturbed by them, but he got the sense that was because she thought there was a more pressing matter.

"Have you had any this week?" she asked.

Again, she caught Remus off-guard. "Yes," he said slowly. "I had one last night."

"What happened?"

"It won't make a lot of sense to you–"

"Remus," interrupted Lena, her expression very serious. "Please just tell me."

A small, bitter part of Remus wanted to snipe at her, to remind her that she really didn't have a leg to stand on when it came to being open with her spouse. But he sighed and said, "Okay. I received this Patronus message – that's this thing where a person can use their Patronus to send–"

"I know," interjected Lena again. "Who was it from, and what did it say?"

"The eldest Weasley son, Bill," said Remus, shaking his head slightly. "It's strange, I know, seeing as I've never even properly met him in real life, but–"

"And the message?"

Remus raised his eyebrows, unsure of why the identity of the message-sender didn't make her even bat an eyelid in surprise. However, he answered her question. "As I said before, it's pretty hard to follow: essentially, Harry and two of his friends were hiding out with Bill and his wife because they're on-the-run from this Lord Voldemort. There was also something about Garrick Ollivander, a goblin, and a dead house-elf."

Lena stared at him, her face indecipherable.

"I told you it's bizarre," muttered Remus. He sighed again, running a hand through his hair. "Look, have you eaten yet? Because I'm going to the kitchen to get myself some dinner, and if you want me to make you something too–"

"Stop," she said tiredly. "We can't keep pushing aside the fact things aren't right between us. There are things we need to discuss."

Remus folded his arms. "Why right now?" he inquired, and cocked his head. "Did your father say something?"

Lena bit her lip. "Speaking to him did give me some clarity on the matter," she admitted, after a moment's hesitation. "It made me realise that if we don't do this now, then I might never do it. And that wouldn't be fair on you." She walked into their bedroom and sat down on the bed, looking at him expectantly.

Remus took a deep breath, then joined her, leaving about a foot between them as they sat side-by-side. "I meant what I said last Friday night," he told her. "I still love you, even if you don't feel the same. I can't help it."

"I know you can't," replied Lena, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "And I can't help the fact that now your touch makes my skin crawl."

That hurt Remus. Yes, he had detected her reticence to let him hold her or kiss her since Matilda had been born, but he had thought it was a temporary thing – a consequence of her body feeling strange after giving birth, as well as the distress she felt now that he knew she didn't love him.

A lump forming in his throat, Remus said hoarsely, "What are you saying? That you want to… separate?"

Lena's response was immediate, and almost violent. "No! That's not…" She held her face in her hands for a moment, and he could tell she was trying to compose herself. "That's not the conversation I'm trying to have with you right now," she said at last, meeting his eyes.

Remus stood up, throwing his hands in the air with exasperation. "Then what is, Lena? Just what the hell is going on? Because one week ago, I found out you'd been pretending to be someone you're not for the entirety of our relationship, and then the moment our baby was born, you turned into a completely different person again. And it is terrifying me!"

Lena gazed up at him, looking upset. "I know, Remus, and I'm sorry," she said, her voice cracking. "It was never supposed to be like this. All I have ever wanted for you is to be happy, and you have no idea how hard I've tried to make that happen." She closed her eyes, and exhaled slowly. When she looked at him again, it was clear she was exhausted. "But that doesn't excuse what I've done. I can't fix all the damage I've done, but I can at least try to do the right thing now: which is to give you a choice."

"A choice?"

She nodded. "One you have to make yourself. And I can't tell you which one I want you to make. It has to be entirely your decision." Absentmindedly twisting her wedding ring around her finger, she explained, "The first option you have is to forget any of this ever happened; to be ignorant, and be happy in this ignorance."

It took Remus a great deal of self-restraint not to yell at her. "You think I should go back to believing in lies?" he said coldly. "That I could want a mere delusion of happiness?"

His anger didn't appear to faze Lena. Instead, she calmly continued, "The second option is to look under our bed."

This strange statement completely threw Remus. "What?"

"Look under our bed," repeated Lena, "and don't look away. If you do, you'll understand everything." Her lips formed a tiny smile. "And I'll love you again."

Remus' heart skipped a beat. It sounded insane, but… "Are you saying all I need to do for everything to be fixed is to look under our bed?"

"No, I'm saying that you'll get the answers you're asking for, and my love. But what you'll also get is more pain than you've ever known."

"Pain?" Remus shook his head disbelievingly. "Lena, last Friday night you ripped my heart to pieces–"

"And this will be worse," she said simply. "I can guarantee it."

It was left unsaid, but Remus could see in her eyes why she was so certain of this.

Because she had been living with that pain for the last week.

"The decision has to be yours," she reiterated, standing up. "I'm going back into the nursery while you make your choice." She gave him a strained smile. "I suppose I'll know which one it is when I see you again." She left the room, closing the door behind her.

Remus eyed the bed warily. What on earth did she mean when she said the answers were underneath it? He wanted to know, but at the same time, he was afraid of what he might find.

Suddenly, a noise echoed around the room – or maybe it was just inside Remus' head…

Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum.

He frowned. He could have sworn he'd heard it before. And it was coming from beneath the bed.

Remus couldn't stand it any longer. Wilfully remaining ignorant just wasn't him. He had to know, even if it hurt. So, he made his choice.

In the nursery, Lena was sitting on the armchair again, on the edge of the seat. She was hunched over and leaning forward, staring through the bars of the crib at her sleeping child. Her impossible child, who she loved more than anything.

It had only been three minutes since she'd left Remus in their bedroom when the door to the nursery opened. Lena jumped to her feet, her body tensing as Remus' eyes found hers.

The few seconds of silence between them felt like an eternity. Then Remus, in a voice she hadn't heard in such a long time, said, "Remember that day by the lake when you asked me what the worst thing you'd ever done was?"

Lena covered her mouth to forcibly prevent a sob from escaping – not because the words and the anger behind them hurt, but because it was a relief to hear them.

She had him back. Her Remus.

She moved her hand away from her mouth, and whispered, "You reckon it's this?"

Remus glared at her. "Damn right it is." He advanced, pointing a finger at her. "Once again, you have messed with forces you don't understand, and have done it with no regard for the lives of others. You have let your worst qualities – your narcissism, your hypocrisy, your inability to relinquish control, and your fear of confronting your uncomfortable feelings – guide you and for the love of all that is magical, can you please stop looking at me like that when I'm trying to tell you how mad I am?"

For a couple of seconds, Lena attempted to wipe the puppy-like expression off her face, but it was no use. "Sorry. I've just missed you so much."

A muscle twitched in Remus' jaw. "Yeah, well, I've missed you too," he said crossly, "but that's beside the point. Your massive fuck-up has–"

"Remus!" Lena berated him, as Matilda, woken by her father's rant, started to cry.

"Bugger," muttered Remus, and quickly scooped up the baby girl. "It's okay, sweetie," he cooed as she bawled. "It's all right…"

Lena moved in so she was as close to Remus and Matilda as possible. "Shh, darling," she whispered, gently touching the infant's cheek. "We're here."

Quietening, Matilda looked between her parents, and made an inquiring noise, as if asking what all the racket was about.

"Daddy's just very rightly upset with me," Lena told her softly, "because now he knows I'm going to have to do something completely unforgivable to stop the unthinkable from happening." She glanced up at Remus. "Doesn't he?"

As Remus stared at her, the anger was slowly drained from his face, replaced by desolation. "Yes," he murmured finally. "Yes, he knows." He looked down at Matilda. "But when your mother does it, I'm going to be right there with her. Because I made her a promise, and I intend to keep it."

He carefully laid the child back in her crib. Straightening, he turned back to his wife, and began to say, "Lena–"

She flung herself at him, hugging him fiercely and burying her face in his neck. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and he could hear in her voice how hard she was trying not to cry.

And he knew there was nothing he could do to comfort her. So, he simply encircled her with his arms and held her for as long as she wanted.

Now, he could see her out the window. She was sitting down on the grass with Matilda in her lap, her back against a tree in their garden – the exact spot where his mother used to read to him when he was a child.

"It's nice to see Lena looking a little less stressed," said Hope, following her son's gaze. "She must finally be starting to get her head around motherhood."

Her kind but oblivious words made Remus want to sob, but he just silently nodded.

"And it must be nice for her to get out of the house," continued Hope. "I think in the first three months of having you, I probably only left here less than half a dozen times." She smiled at her son fondly. "At least you were such an unfussy baby; I'd always hear stories from other mothers about how difficult it was to get theirs to feed or sleep, but I got lucky with you."

Remus closed his eyes for a second. Everything she was saying was reminding him of the real reason for his and Lena's visit, but he had been trying to delay it for as long as he could. But the sun would be setting soon, and Lena could feel there was another disaster brewing, one that would eventuate somewhere in Britain before the next morning came that would take more innocent lives in exchange for his daughter's life. He could no longer put it off.

"Mum," he said, angling himself towards her and taking her hands, "this past week has really made me think about you and Dad, and all the ways I could have been a better son."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," said Hope, squeezing his hands. "Yes, it wasn't the easiest experience being your mother while you were growing up – no parent wants to see their child suffer the way you had to with your transformations – but it has been the most wonderful. I've gotten to see my kind, clever, brilliant boy grow into a kind, clever, brilliant man. And now I get to see you be the great father I always knew you would be."

It was almost too much to bear. "Thank you," he whispered, hugging her so she wouldn't see the tears forming in his eyes. "For everything."

He could feel his mother's surprise in the way she hugged him back, but all she said was, "I'm so proud of you, Remus."

A couple of minutes later, Lena came back in with Matilda, and Remus knew it was time for them to go.

"It was lovely to see you, Hope," Lena told her mother-in-law, kissing her on the cheek.

"Oh, I'm so glad the three of you dropped by today," replied Hope happily. "It was such a lovely surprise – and a welcome distraction from all these horrible things happening in the world at the moment."

As Lena opened the front door for them, Remus swallowed. "Bye, Mum," he said softly, kissing her once on the cheek, and once on the forehead.

Hope beamed at him, briefly touching his cheek. "Goodbye, sweetheart."

Remus was quiet as they walked down the path leading to the Lestrange house. Lena, holding Matilda to her chest, watched him out of the corner of her eye as the sun sunk below the horizon. For so long, she had been safe from ever experiencing the grief of saying goodbye to a beloved parent. But now…

She gazed ahead at the enormous mansion that she had called home in two versions of history. She could remember the nightmare of living under its roof with her mother, but the memories of being raised there by this world's Tom Riddle were just as clear in her head. When she looked at him, she saw both: Voldemort, the monster she had loved, and Tom, her father and a good man. She hadn't been able to hold it in any longer when she'd seen him yesterday: it was just too much to watch him with Matilda.

'Which was why I erased my memory and created Lena Riddle in the first place – because I wanted to make things easy.' Her arms slightly tightened around Matilda, pressing her closer to her breast. 'You stupid, stupid girl.'

The front door was open before they reached the entrance. Tom was waiting for them, with folded arms and dark shadows under his eyes – evidently the revelations of yesterday had kept him from sleep overnight.

Beside her, Remus tensed upon seeing the human face of Voldemort, and Lena knew that like her, he was struggling to reconcile the murderer of his friends with the father-in-law he'd been growing closer to over the past four months.

"Are you ready?" asked Tom quietly, as the three of them went inside.

Lena paused, looking at him. "Not really. But I know I still have to do it."

She led the two men further into the house, taking them to a door on the other side. As they approached it, Tom murmured, "It's so strange… living here for over twenty years, and all the time…"

"It's a powerful protective enchantment," said Lena, shrugging slightly. "Allows your subconscious to be aware of its existence, but prevents you from ever developing enough curiosity to know what's on the other side."

Stopping in front of the door, she shifted Matilda in her arms so she could use one hand to turn the handle, and opened it to reveal the hall she had once used as a garage. But there was no car inside it now. Just the Mirror of Erised, and within it, the remnants of the lost world.

Nine months ago, on that fateful night after Dumbledore's funeral, Lena had used the various items she had collected to enter the Mirror. However, doing so had not transported her to the reflection dimension, but rather had caused an inversion – the limitless possibilities of the Mirror's power to reflect desires had become reality, while the 'real' word had become confined to the magical glass. The new world had been malleable enough for Lena to alter its history without the repercussions Hecate had faced three thousand years prior – although, of course, it had still had its limits. But Lena had been dismissive of a reality's need for rules, to keep it in order and stop it collapsing into chaos – rules that said Life needed to be uncertain, and that Death was not allowed to discriminate. One could either live as a human, or rule as a god. To do both was not allowed.

Now, Lena had learned the cost of not obeying those rules.

They all slowly walked into the hall, staring at the Mirror. They could all feel it in the air – a peculiar vibration emanating from the magical looking glass. If Lena was the heart of this new reality, it was the mother who had given birth to it.

"So," said Remus quietly, "all you have to do is step back into the Mirror, and–"

"It'll reverse the inversion, yes," finished Lena. "The world will go back to as it was, except nine months will have passed."

Remus nodded slowly. "Nine months which I've seen happening in my dreams." He tilted his head to the side. "You still haven't explained how that worked, apart from it having to do with your real heart."

Still eyeing the Mirror, Lena explained, "Our souls are connected to our bodies by a thread that attaches at the heart. When I first bonded with the Orb when I was eleven, my soul's thread split into two, one remaining attached to my own heart, the other joining with Hecate's. That's why I was able to remove mine without dying – because the Orb was already part of me. But because my soul is still connected to my heart, when I stepped through the Mirror, it stayed the same while everything else around it changed." She finally looked at Remus again. "Even you."

With an expression of gradual understanding, he said, "But because you gave it to me at Svartlager, it was still mine."

"Exactly. And it created a link between you, and the version of you–" Lena pointed at the Mirror, "–that still resides inside there. You saw what you would be living if I hadn't changed Time."

"Why did Remus never see you in the dreams?" asked Tom suddenly. "If he's seeing a world where you never changed Time–"

"Because I'm still inside the Mirror," said Lena. "I'm making this reality happen." Seeing both Tom and Remus' blank expressions, she sighed. "There aren't two separate realities that are co-existing at the same time. Like I said before, it's an inversion. This world–" she gestured around her vaguely, "–is the one at the moment that actually exists, because I used the Nekrosía to supplant the original one. The dreams Remus had are of a potential reality, one that currently only exists as a theory. However, once I step through the Mirror again, the theory will be restored to reality, and this life will be something only I experienced while inside here. None of it will have actually happened, except to me."

"But I'll remember it, won't I?" said Remus. "Because of your heart."

"Yes. Because it's the one constant in both these realities and it's yours, you will retain your memories of here. Of course, I could take them away–"

"But I made the choice to remember." He pointed to Tom. "But he won't?"

Before Lena could answer, Tom said, "I think it's better if I don't. I'd rather keep myself and Lord Voldemort separate."

"Even if it means that when Lena goes back through the Mirror, you'll effectively die?"

Tom shrugged, smiling sadly. "I think I've spent my seventy-one years well." He went over to Lena, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Particularly the last twenty-two."

Lena gazed up at him, the ache in her chest intensifying. "But I don't want to you lose you," she said softly.

He gently pushed a stray lock of her hair back behind her ear. "Don't think of it as a loss," he suggested. "Think of it as simply… letting go."

A memory replayed in Lena's mind. She was on top of the Hogwarts' Astronomy Tower with Dumbledore in his last moment, and he was telling her, "I do not want my life if accepting your help is the price."

It had hurt, but she had respected his decision. She had let him go, and allowed his death to remain unaltered in this 'perfect' world. That had been one of the first cracks she had made in this reality.

'I wish you were here now, Albus. If anyone could find another way, it would be you…'

Tom, meanwhile, was looking down at Matilda as she gazed up at him curiously. "Besides," he murmured, "I am not the one who deserves your tears."

Lena's throat constricted. She had been trying so hard this past week not to cry, because it felt too much like self-pity and she didn't want to give in to that. But now the moment was here, and she couldn't hold it back any longer. It was one thing to let go of this version of Voldemort who was everything she had always wanted, and for Remus to let go of his mother and his best friends…

But now she had to let go of their daughter. Tiny, wonderful, impossible Matilda who could not go through the Mirror with her and survive the restoration of the old world. She, like the rest of the reality Lena had created, would simply cease to exist, and become nothing more than the most painful memory that haunted hers and Remus' minds.

Holding Matilda close, she turned away from Tom and Remus as her sobs started to force their way out. "I can't… I don't…"

A couple of seconds later, she felt Remus move behind her and rest his hands on her waist. "I know," he whispered, and she felt a teardrop splash onto her shoulder. "I know."

They stood together like that, weeping, for a few minutes. Then Lena's gaze fell upon the Mirror again. It was too late to save this world, and all the deaths her selfishness had caused. The cracks ran too deep; everything was falling apart, and in less than a year, there would be nothing left but chaos. And the only people who could survive it were the two whose existences were unnatural and impossible: her and Matilda.

If she let go of it now, she could bring back the old world, with its war and its imperfections, where there was no James and Lily, or Sirius, or Remus' mother… or Matilda. But amongst all its devastation and darkness, it did have one thing left that this world didn't.

Hope. And it was worth fighting for.

Her child or the world. An impossible choice. 'But that's what you're always doing, isn't it? Turning the impossible into the possible…'

Although the tears still fell, Lena's breathing became calmer. She kissed Matilda on the forehead. "Goodbye, my darling," she whispered, then turned around and gave her daughter to Remus, telling him, "I'll see you on the other side."

Inside her, the cold, poisoned, Dark heart of Hecate started to shatter as Lena faced the Mirror of Erised, refusing to let her eyes linger on Remus' tearstained face or Tom's heartbroken expression. The black heart was screaming at her, telling her to turn back around to the life she had literally made for herself, to not throw it away just because others had to die for it. But two hundred miles away, in their bedroom in Notting Hill, Lena's real heart beat louder.

So, she took a deep breath and walked towards the Mirror. And when she reached the glass, she didn't stop. She went straight through it.

Sunday 19 April, 1998:

When Remus woke up, his mind was entirely blank for one second. Then, like a tidal wave coming from either side, two sets of memories crashed into him, submerging him in confusion. He remembered learning of his mother's death when he was twenty, and saying goodbye to her yesterday. He remembered years of impoverished unemployment, and his career as an Auror. He remembered the fateful night of Halloween, 1981, and also the Sunday lunches with Sirius, James and Lily over the past year. He remembered Voldemort as the most dangerous and evil wizard in the world, and also as his father-in-law. He remembered nine months of mostly blissful happiness, and nine months of living through a crushing war without knowing where the hell his wife was, or what had happened to her.

He looked to Lena's beside side. Curled upon it and sleeping was Mortimer the Bowtruckle.

'She did it,' thought Remus. 'She restored reality to the original timeline.' And there was a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest.

Matilda was gone – or rather, she had never existed. Yet every memory of the week he'd spent getting to know his daughter was there in his mind. He remembered her inquisitive eyes, her tiny hands, her soft cries, the way it felt to hold her in his arms… but none of it was real anymore.

Holding his face in his hands, he suppressed an anguished howl as his body shuddered. He didn't know how long he'd been holding that position when he felt a nudge against his leg. Raising his gaze, he saw that Mortimer had woken and was looking at him with concern.

And that was when it hit Remus that Lena, for the first time in nine months, was back in this world. And like him, she had just lost her child – but unlike him, it was her fault. So whatever he was feeling right now, it was twice as bad for her.

Remus quickly got out of bed and got changed. When he was ready, he slipped a confused Mortimer into his pocket and hurried downstairs, shouting out to an equally bewildered Tizzy who was preparing breakfast in the kitchen that he had to go. Once out on the front doorstep, he Apparated to the gates of the Lestrange Estate.

In the last nine months of this timeline, Remus had gone to the Lestrange Estate several times, desperate to find out where Lena was, but hadn't been able to enter. But this morning, the moment he touched the gate, it swung open.

Knowing that meant Lena had to be inside, Remus nearly ran all the way to the front door, which, like the gate, opened at his touch.

"Lena?" shouted Remus, going inside. There was no response, so he continued further in, heading towards the hall which had contained the Mirror. He pushed open the door, and came to an abrupt halt.

The Mirror of Erised was no more. It had exploded; shattered into hundreds of pieces, scattered across the floor. And in the middle of the shards lay Lena, curled in a foetal position. If she had heard his entrance, she didn't make any sign to acknowledge it.

A small, shocked squeak made Remus look down at his pocket. Mortimer was peering out, staring at Lena with horror.

Slowly, Remus approached her, softly calling her name. "Lena?"

She still didn't respond. Remus knelt behind her and gently touched her arm. She didn't move, but he knew she was conscious. He noticed that in one hand she was clutching one of the broken Mirror's fragments, and its jagged edges were cutting into her skin.

Carefully, Remus uncurled Lena's fingers from the blood-stained glass and took it from her. He told himself not to look in its reflection, because he knew what he would find, but he couldn't stop himself. And he found himself gazing at Matilda. For that was all she was now – a reflection of their hearts' deepest desire.

"I tried so hard," whispered Lena, still not moving. "I looked for any way to bring her through with me, to make her exist in this world too. But I couldn't. Even if I'd changed Time again, to try to recreate the exact circumstances of her conception but in this timeline, it still wouldn't be her."

"I know," murmured Remus, tearing his eyes away from the reflection and putting the shard down. Pulling out his wand, he took her still bleeding hand and started healing it, saying, "All we can do now is remember her."

Lena let out a whimper, and once her hand was healed, curled herself up even tighter. As Remus stroked her hair, a cautious Mortimer climbed out of his pocket and crawled over her, inching towards her face. Lena, who had shut her eyes, opened them as Mortimer lightly prodded her cheek. She stared at him for a long moment, before saying quietly, "Hello."

Mortimer made a small, hesitant noise in response.

She held a finger out to him. "I've missed you," she told him, her voice cracking on every syllable.

For a few seconds, Mortimer continued to stare at her. Then his little arms wrapped around her finger, hugging it.

"I guess that means he thinks you're our Lena again," said Remus softly.

At last, Lena pushed herself up from the floor and faced him, Mortimer clambering up to her shoulder as she did. Amongst all the grief, pain and exhaustion intermingled on her face, something else was growing – a look of quiet determination. "I guess that means I am."

Thank you to the reviewers of the previous chapter; as always, I appreciate you taking the time to share your thoughts so much. Of course, I'd love to hear any thoughts on this one. And if you have any questions, please ask them and I'll do my best to provide an answer :)