Tom's up again, at 11 pm at night, sleep miles away from him. Evelynn wrote that she'd come into town tonight and meet him tomorrow, so he's only- A massive yawn suddenly cuts off his thoughts, the first he's had in weeks. And then exhaustion washes over him, going from a mildly-noticeable annoyance to a very immediate problem as he feels himself sway on his feet.
He barely makes it over to his bed, beyond grateful that he was still in his room when this hit him, when his legs quite literally give out and he lands face-first on the mattress. He barely manages to drag himself up so his head is actually on the pillow and his feet are on the mattress - even if he isn't under the spread - when everything goes black for him.
Tom looks around, getting the distinct feeling he's dreaming - though, its not like any dream he's ever had. The entire area is bright white, reminding him far too much of the Limbo he saw in Evelynn's memories.
He's not dead, right?!
A light, almost musical laugh sounds behind him, and Tom whirls around to see one of the most beautiful women he's ever met standing there. Raven-black hair tumbling down to about the middle of her back if he's measuring right, in a bright white robe and hooded cloak…with eyes that can't seem to settle for one single color, one minute they're a brilliant blue the next a dark brown. And she's holding two torches, one in each hand. "Relax, my child, you've nothing to fear. Not from Death, and certainly not from me."
Tom blinks, and asks "I...don't?" He doesn't have a clue who this woman is, just that...she's incredibly powerful. Powerful enough that he's no hesitation in deciding to be on his absolute best behavior so she doesn't obliterate him where he stands.
The woman hums, saying "You always were a perceptive one, Tom, when whole. I take it you have at least some idea of who I am then." She then fixes him with the full weight of her gaze, making him feel distinctly nervous - he doesn't just know this mysterious woman, but he does sense her power. So much power that he's sure he cant possibly comprehend it all, that a mortal like him literally cannot process it without their mind either shattering or melting. He's also sure she can hear each of his thoughts, as she laughs and says she's flattered.
"Its also a very accurate thought. Even your mind, strong and fast as it is, would not hold up under the strain of my full presence. You didn't answer my question, though."
Tom swallows, and says "Evelynn sometimes speaks of Death...but she always calls the being a he." And she spoke about 'Death' so...
The woman nods, and says "Indeed, taking the form of a man to interact with young Evelynn is Death's personal choice, though we can take whichever form we choose at any given time. You might call Death a...colleague of mine. We made the Hallows together, for instance."
Tom feels his breath catch in his throat, and says "Then your..." Magic. Hecate, Isis, Freya, whatever name she wants to go by...this is her. The Deity that granted them magic in the first place.
Again with that laugh, and she - Magic - says "Very good, my child. We have all gone by many names over the millennia, but it doesn't change us."
Tom swallows, and "So...why are you here? Or why am I here?"
Before he can start on a semi-panicked flood of questions - since he's pretty sure the Goddess of Magic doesn't just stop by out of boredom to chat! - Magic says "Nothing bad, I assure you. As for being bored…I can assure you, the two of you have been very entertaining. Truly, I wouldn't have thought someone so betrayed could end up being so kind to her one-time enemy if I hadn't watched it myself. She truly did inherit her mother's kindness then."
Neither did Tom, especially since he wouldn't have been. He'd have stayed away at best, tried to kill Evelynn at worst if their situations were reversed.
Magic - or Hecate, Tom's decided he's calling her - hums and says "We're off-topic, however. You know I helped Death create the Hallows, but did you know I was the one to suggest the soul-bonding aspect?"
Tom blinks, and asks "You did?" That's news to him, he's fairly certain even Evelynn doesn't know that particular detail.
"I did. The human mind isn't meant to bear the weight of eternity alone. Even the strongest of minds, the smartest, or even the opposite where someone is rather lacking in intelligence…all of them would eventually shatter under the weight of it all, their sanity fleeing after enough time spent truly alone."
Tom swallows, suddenly very glad his counterpart in Evelynn's original time never achieved true immortality - he would've undoubtedly gone it alone for all time, and then they would've been stuck with an unkillable madman for all time. His body would've stayed the same, his brain would've been intact, but his mind…his mind would've been in pieces eventually, with no way to fix things and no end in sight. Another horrifying potential outcome, even worse than what the Horcuxes did to him in that he'd have been stuck that way forever.
Tom swallows, and asks "If there's such potential for things to go wrong…why did you make them?"
Hecate sighs, and says "We had to do something. Destiny, or Fate if you prefer, she told us something horrifying. There would be a traitor to magic, and through his work magic in your realm would die. He would spread his words throughout the world, no matter what it took, and everyone would listen. What you and young Evelynn theorize, about the practice of marrying close relations to keep one's magical lineage pure…it was only half the problem. Yes, fresh blood is needed, if only to keep mortal bodies from becoming too delicate…but the Old Ways, the traditions passed down for millennia, they are just as important to keeping magic - my power, my gift to all the magical races - alive and strong. Traditions, celebrations, rituals, they're done both to give back to me and to reconnect a person with their magic. If the new mortals in the magical world become too weak, delicate, unable to receive my gift, then I'm forced to reawaken the dormant magic in the descendants of those who previously couldn't in order to keep your society strong. Their bodies are simply better able to handle the power of my gift, as those you term Squibs would die within the first year of life if they had the power of magic at their disposal."
Tom gets more and more horrified as Hecate goes on, finally getting the full picture. As the Old Ways have waned, combined with the Pureblood practice of inbreeding to the point of sterility or instability, Hecate has had to turn to the descendants of Squibs born earlier in time to keep the Wizarding World alive - both because she didn't have enough strength to awaken and heal every single Squib that's been born and because the Muggleborns are stronger, healthier, would make it to Hogwarts and adult life. Only to more than likely leave the Wizarding World - Britain, at least - because they were rejected or held back at every turn, making a vicious cycle as all that fresh, clean blood would have gone nowhere. Forcing Hecate to awaken even more Muggleborns in the hopes that people would finally get a hint.
One detail sticks out to Tom instantly, Hecate mentioned a traitor to magic, one who would destroy her gift in its entirety. "Dumbledore."
Hecate nods, saying "Very good. Albus Dumbledore scorns my gifts, slanders and bans the traditions meant to keep them, and by extension himself and all the rest, strong. He rejects much of magic itself, labeling it dark and evil when all that truly matters is a person's intention. What makes him truly dangerous, though, is his ability to sway the masses with his silver tongue. If he gets his way, if he is allowed to take up a role of leadership of any importance, he will never stop until either he is made to stop or it is far too late. We created the Hallows to create a second chance, a chance to save Wizarding society before it goes extinct. But, what happens now…is up to you two. Fate told us what would happen, if we didn't act. She did not tell us how our gamble would end, nor when it would truly begin."
Tom asks "Why are you telling me all this? Wouldn't Evelynn be the one to talk to? She was the one chosen by the Hallows, not me."
Hecate laughs, starting out as a chuckle before it eventually turns into full-blown laughter. Tom actually gapes at her, nobody laughs at him like this. Ever. He doesn't even see what's so funny, really. "Oh," she finally gasps, after getting control of herself once more, "you really don't see it, do you? Can't see what's happening right in front of the both of you. Death had warned me that young Evelynn was rather oblivious, though. I suppose the two of you are truly a perfect match then."
Tom jerks awake, heart racing and head aching like its about to explode. Explode with knowledge, perhaps. The knowledge that that was no dream. That Hecate herself, the Deity that granted Wizardkind magic in the first place, came to him in a dream and talked to him.
That Albus Dumbledore is going to end up killing magic, should he not be stopped. And he and Evelynn are apparently the only ones that can stop it.
Tom decides to stop thinking about it for now, because his head is feeling like its about to explode. A lot like when he found out about Evelynn, actually.
On the bright side, though, he got some sleep - and actually feels like he got some sleep, now that his heart isn't pounding away at his ribcage. Deciding to focus on something he was already planning, something short-term and not with the weight of the literal world on his shoulders, he quickly writes to Theodorus and Orion to see if they're busy or if they can come and survey Little Hangleton and plan how to use the Ward Scheme Evelynn wrote.
And his grandparents won't mind, since they're usually off in Greater Hangleton managing their business - his father was supposed to take it over years ago, but those plans got scrapped when he eloped with Merope and then disappeared for about five months, only to come back a broken man too scared to so much as leave the house most of the time.
Ergo…two people that should, by all reasoning, be retired now are attending meetings every day and running a business they started up, leaving him to do as he pleases for hours on end. Might as well start planning on how to Ward the entire town so well that its basically a massive fortress.
AN: Hey, everyone! I know, I dropped off this story for a bit - got hit with a case of Writer's Block, unfortunately. Then, one day, I think 'well, what the heck? I've already got one deity talking with them. Why not throw in Magic herself?' Besides, considering the detail that Dumbledore was Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwhump of the ICW - the International Confederation of Wizards - and headmaster of the 'best' school in Britain, I think it sounds plausible. All of Britain was wrapped around his beard, after all, and he clearly had lines into other countries if Maxine going with Hagrid to bargain with the giants is any indication. Who's to say he wasn't spouting his spiel to the rest of them when he was probably the oldest and most respected person in that room to? Especially after defeating Grindelwald and saving France.