Six
Salem Institute
1981
His eyes heavy from lack of sleep, Simon pored over yet more dusty, ancient volumes. Beside him, Caroline Skyland and Charlotte Dingwell were doing the same, deep within the bowels of the Salem Institute library. A few candles lit the cozy, book-padded chamber.
Simon was exhausted -- it had been a long three days. David Garrett's autopsy had revealed nothing. The unfortunate young man's body had been transported home, to await burial. Simon had spoken to Garrett's parents, and had promised to inform them about the circumstances surrounding their son's death, just as soon as he knew what they were.
"Caroline, are you sure you don't remember a date?"
The pretty student looked over at Simon, her weary head propped upon a fist. There were dark circles under her eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you..."
"Enough." Charlotte spoke. "We've been searching through these books for three days now. Simon, I've found no trace of Lucie in British magical history, except for what is already known." She sighed, her own face slack with weariness. "At least, from the mid-eighteen-hundreds until 1945, when Lazerus Grindelwald was defeated by Albus Dumbledore, there is nothing. Nothing." She looked at him sympathetically. "It is possible, Simon, that she...she did not survive. I'm sorry."
"Dammit," sighed Simon. His heart sank at the words that he had been struggling not to think of. "It only makes sense that she's gone back in time. It's the only thing that makes sense. Charlotte, are you absolutely certain that you've told me everything you know about this crazy Grindelwald?"
"Well, I only encountered him once, in 1937. My parents had gone on tour of Europe, and they brought me with them. My father was greatly involved in research of ancient magical texts, so he arranged to meet with Grindelwald. And I saw pictures of him in the Daily Prophet occasionally," the Headmaster replied. "He was quite sane, though, Simon. As sane as I. Very charming. And he was not as dangerous as this Voldemort is, today, even if many of his actions suggested madness and obsession." She closed the book that she was reading, and pushed it across the glossy dark mahogany surface of the table. "If we could get hold of Dumbledore, he could tell us more."
"Obsession?"
"With the darker side of alchemy. I do not believe that he was a dark wizard, but he did dabble rather a lot in things that he ought not have. Simon, you really do need to get hold of Dumbledore. He was close to Grindelwald."
"That won't be easy, ma'am, but I do plan to try. What was he like? Grindelwald, I mean." Simon looked at both women. "What were his motivations?"
"Handsome," broke in Caroline, flushing slightly. "Really, really handsome. Romance-novel-cover handsome. Charming. Smart. Curious, inquisitive. Really dreamy. Like someone out of an old movie."
"Yes, he was, even in his later years," added Charlotte. "I remember thinking that he was quite dashing, even for a wizard with a dangerous, muddied reputation as his." She paused, lost in thought for a long moment. "And he could never get past Dumbledore. Dumbledore spent years, not exactly fighting him, but keeping him in line. More or less as a conscience, or as a keeper. Grindelwald was always spouting some strange nonsense, to the papers and such. Always how he wanted to get some precious books back, that had been stolen from him. He wanted to find a way to go to the future. He was certain that it was possible." She smiled and shook her head. "And of course, there was also the oldest reason of all."
"What was that, Headmaster?" Simon looked curious.
"His great lost love, as he called it. Her, I mean. Always spouting nonsense about how his great lost love -- a woman named Nigella Nickerson, how's that for a moniker -- was lost in the future, of all things, and he had to find...her..." Charlotte trailed off, the colour draining from her face. "Oh, my God," she said. "Nigella...Nickerson...? Simon...you don't think..."
Simon had jumped to his feet, an expression of great urgency on his face. He felt something click inside him. "Think? No, Charlotte, I don't think. I know." Panic turned his guts to water. "We can't waste another moment. Please contact the MLE for me. Kojo Bungawunga."
"Class of '54, yes, I know Kojo."
"Tell him what we've discovered. Tell him that I've gone to find Albus Dumbledore. I'm going to Apparate tonight. Now. He's our only hope, to find Lucie. My God," said Simon, shaking his head in amazement. "My God -- this is incredible. She's so young, Charlotte. Just twenty-four. This is her first case." His face grim, Simon pulled on his decrepit overcoat and strode out of the comfortable old library. "I just have to do whatever I can to make sure that this isn't her last case. God...lost in the past...my God..."
"Good luck, Simon," Charlotte whispered as the door swung shut behind him. "Good luck."
xxx
It was about four in the morning, in Hogsmeade, where Simon Disapparated. England was about five hours ahead of Salem.
He glanced around, to make sure it was safe, and that he was alone. He couldn't sense any danger, but retreated to the darkness behind a nearby building, to get his bearings and to relax for a moment. Multiple, long-distance Apparations were exhausting, and he needed to catch his breath.
Simon looked around. He hadn't been to Hogsmeade in years, but he was pleased to see that it had barely changed. The place looked like a picture postcard, always had.
There were few signs of life about -- mostly nocturnal cats and dogs -- and all the windows were dark. Even Rosmerta's was dark; most likely, the sensible woman had ejected her rowdy patrons and had gone to bed for some well-deserved rest. Yes, all windows, save for one -- a small window in the Hog's Head Tavern. Proprietor, one Aberforth Dumbledore. Readying himself, Simon strode off in the direction of the pub. This seemed as likely a place as any, to begin his search for Albus Dumbledore. A bit obvious, perhaps, but he did have to start somewhere. He just hoped not to run into any of those damned Death Eaters along the way. Any other time, he'd love to meet up with some of them and teach them a thing or two; right now, however, he had more important things to worry about.
He crept up to the lit window, and leaned up, just enough to peer inside. At first he couldn't see anything, so he stretched a bit further. There! He could just see a person inside, with long grey hair, sitting with his back to the window.
Cautiously, Simon turned to find a way into the building. He couldn't believe that locating Albus (or Aberforth) had been so easy! ...too damned easy...
That was his last conscious thought, as a slim, dark figure stepped out of the shadows, with his wand out, and hit Simon dead-on with a powerful stunning spell. With a grunt, Simon crumpled to the ground.
xxx
"He's coming around now, Headmaster."
"Finally! I thought we were going to have to Enervate him, considering the strength of that Stunning spell, Severus." There was dry amusement in the older man's voice, and chagrin in the younger man's.
"I couldn't take the chance, Albus. You say that you know him?"
"Er...after a fashion, yes. Although...well. Simon Nigel-Nickerson Special Agent, AMLE, according to his identification. He's quite well-known in North America. Quite a good MLE agent. Quite a reputation." The older man chuckled.
"What is he doing here, then?"
"We shall find that out soon enough. You have the Veritaserum?"
"Yes, Headmaster."
"Veritaserum makes me puke," Simon said in a weak voice. He opened his eyes slightly, tried to focus on his captors. "And that was a bitch of a Stunner, pal." He couldn't make out features yet, but saw that the younger man was catlike-slim in dark clothes and long dark hair. Beside him were two older men, Albus and Aberforth Dumbledore, presumably. One of them -- Albus -- knelt down and helped Simon into a sitting position.
"Simon Nigel-Nickerson?"
Simon nodded. Up close, the man looked exactly as he had on wizard channel newscasts. "Yes, sir. And are you Albus Dumbledore?"
"You presume correctly. Mr. Nigel-Nickerson...have we met?"
"Er...no, sir. Not that I'm aware of."
"Ah. Interesting." said Dumbledore, looking thoughtful. Then he added, "You're looking well."
"Considering that I've just been Stunned within an inch of my life."
"Sorry, mate," said the younger man -- Severus, was it? He didn't sound a bit sorry; in fact, he continued to regard Simon with suspicion.
"Where are we?" Simon looked around. "This isn't the Hog's Head --"
"No, no, it isn't. We have Apparated to the Phoenix headquarters. You're safe here -- for now."
Simon gazed, fascinated, at the walls of the small, slightly-shabby room that they were in. The walls were covered in books. He could sense, however, that there were many hidden doorways behind those books. The warm, cozy, dimly-lit little house fairly reeked of magic. "Read much?", he asked, wryly.
"Not as much as the previous occupants did," said Dumbledore, smiling. Beside him, Severus looked uncomfortable. "What can I do for you, Mr. Nigel-Nickerson? It is myself that you were looking for, is it not?"
"Yes...yes, sir, it was." Simon struggled to his feet, assisted by young Severus. "Thanks, kid," he said.
"Least I could do," said the young man, expressionlessly.
Dumbledore shot the young man an amused, warning glance, and told Simon to sit down on the sofa. "Would you like something to drink?"
"No, thank you, sir. My mission is rather urgent, and I would prefer to discuss it in private. With you and Aberforth Dumbledore alone, if you don't mind. No offense," he added, with a glance at Severus. Severus merely raised an eyebrow, and stayed right where he was.
"Now, Mr. Nigel-Nickerson...anything you have to say to me, you can say to Severus. I trust him completely." Dumbledore smiled at young Severus, who looked gratified. Sitting in the chair beside Albus, Aberforth said nothing, but merely glared at Simon, in his crusty-old-man way.
Simon did not want to speak in front of the young man, as his mission was not only urgent, but confidential. He hedged, "Sir...it's about...Lazerus Grindelwald, sir. And it is confidential."
Aberforth gasped, and swung around to stare at Albus. Severus watched them curiously. Albus leaned forward, a small smile on his face. "And so it begins...well. It's about time." Beside him, Aberforth snorted with what sounded suspiciously like laughter.
Albus stared at Simon a moment longer, then stood, and placed a hand on Severus' shoulder. "Severus, my dear friend -- I must ask your indulgence. This is, indeed, strictly confidential." He held the younger man's gaze for a long moment; then, Severus nodded, and left the room, without speaking a word. Albus watched him go. As a hidden doorway closed behind the young man, Albus looked around for a moment; then, raising his wand, muttered, "Muffliato!"
"Now, Simon, we may talk." Albus sat down and tapped his wand on the small wooden table. Instantly, a decanter of wine appeared, along with some dusty goblets. Another tap of the wand, and the goblets filled with the wine, while the level in the decanter dropped. A neat trick, thought Simon, impressed. Albus handed one to Simon, and another to Aberforth. After a quick, silent drink, Albus leaned forward and said, "Please begin."
"Yes, sir." Simon drained his glass, which instantly refilled. He leaned back against the sofa, and said, "Lucie DeGrace has gone missing. I'm guessing that she's in the past, with Lazerus Grindelwald, searching for a young student from Salem named Olsen Carter. I believe that she is using the name Nigella Nickerson." He paused. "I need whatever help you can give me, sir. I need your help to save her."
He leaned forward, and fixed Albus with his intent stare. "Will you help me?"
Albus met his gaze, unflinchingly, and nodded. "Oh, yes. As I have said, Simon -- it is about time."
xxx
Several hours later, Simon left the Ministry of Magic, armed with a Time-Turner -- in invention based, as it happened, on desperation-fueled research by Lazerus Grindelwald himself. Simon was still reeling, full of the incredible story that the Dumbledore brothers had told him. Incredible! And, he thought, with a rueful grin, they were absolultely correct -- it was, indeed, about time. All about time.
But that was for later. For now, Simon found a secluded, safe spot, and pulled the Time-Turner out of his pocket. Pressing a small button on one side four times, he began the process of turning the little device backwards, ninety-one times.