This is a sequel to Time Left Today. You'll be better off reading that first, unless of course you prefer to be a little confused when you read.

ONE: PROLOGUE.

Sun hung above the peatland, here in the morning and here at night, white as the snow it had melted. In another place, frost might still cling onto the caps of mountains or lie hidden in ravines, but here in the wide-open plane it had not been seen since early spring.

It was silent. Another day, the hooves of moose would be heard sinking into wet earth and coming out again with a pop. Today they were absent.

A chill had come with the northern wind. Beneath its whisper in the scarce trees snuck a feeling more than sound, a distending of the wet earth that wasn't yet a squelch, a new pressure translated over miles of water and shifting ground.

On the heels of the growing feel-sound, a man and a woman appeared. Their shoes were stained black with mud and their faces were reddened and harsh from the wind. There were no walkways here, so they trod on the precarious floor, chancing their necks with every step they took. Life hid under the ground, teeth dulled with how long it had gone without a taste of human flesh; death would be neither quick nor painless if they were to be caught between those teeth's laboured press.

The woman led the way. She seemed to know the safest places to put her feet, and when she lay a mud-cracked hand on the earth, she whispered a lullaby to soothe the beast into sleep. The man stood above her as she did, waiting, his eyes darting about as though he expected he would need to protect her in case of ambush. He was not from these parts and did not know that no one and nothing lived here except the moose, the birds, the beasts ensconced in the mud—and the witch in her castle.

They reached the castle at what would have been sundown, if such a thing were possible here. Instead, the skies had greyed over, a half-lit twilight descending upon the peatland. It made the castle walls look purple and odd, as they should be.

The woman put her hand against the front wall. She searched, pressing and sliding, the grain biting into the delicate flesh of her palm, until she found what she had wanted, and hummed a surprised sort of satisfaction.

'Is she here?' the man asked.

'Yes,' said the woman. 'I didn't think we would actually find her.'

'You've brought me here with the full confidence that it was a wild goose chase?'

'All we do is go on wild goose chases.'

The man did not argue. It was difficult to tell whether this was because he agreed, or because he was startled by the throaty sigh that had come from within the wall.

The sigh was long but damaged, as though it had passed through airways knotted around shards of glass. It sounded as if the whole of the castle was sighing, as though the peatland itself was sighing, so deeply did it penetrate their bodies, so powerfully did it ring in their bones—but it was only the witch buried alive inside the wall.

A voice as awful as the sigh and as gravelly as a pelleted beach spoke in its echo.

'What does she say?' the man demanded, the authority in his tone diminished by how he shook.

The woman said nothing, struck. She was not shaking but had gone the kind of still only dead things were.

'Leeni,' the man insisted. 'What is she saying?'

When the woman called Leeni opened her mouth to translate into English, the voice that came out was only half her own. Some of the pellets had got in; some of the bone-crunch resonated beneath the clear ring of her words.

'What do you come here to know?'

The man had been ready for the question. 'I have come to offer a gift of blood and milk,' he said, baring his forearm, 'to the undead woman who can see all future and all past. I am looking for a way to undo a prophecy. Can it be done?'

The answer had not yet rung out fully in the air before it came garbled again from Leeni's throat, difficult to follow over the echoes of the original sound. 'You want to know if a prophecy must always come true. The answer is no. I told a man he would have a great love but he chose not to seek it. I told a woman she would find riches in a distant land but she hanged herself before she could reach them. There is always a choice. Whatever the prophecy that speaks of you, the choice will be yours.'

The man shook his head. 'The prophecy doesn't speak of me. It pertains to a boy too young to be making choices. How can I stop him having to make this one?'

The twilight darkened. The shadows deepened. The wet earth shifted and curved beneath their feet.

'Severus,' Leeni said in her own voice. 'Give her the blood now.'

With the tip of his wand, Severus cut a line along the green of vein. When he pressed it to the wall, it did not leave a mark but sank into the parched stone.

'He will not make his choice until the Dark Lord is restored to the fullness of his power,' the witch spoke. 'You may try to interrupt the chain of events that will lead there.'

Severus straightened, eager. 'What events?'

'A boy,' shuddered the wall. 'An old servant. A werewolf. If those three do not come to pass, the Dark Lord will remain hidden.'

'A boy, an old servant, a werewolf. I don't suppose I could ask for more detail?' sighed the man. 'Fine. It is something.'

Leeni's hand fell limp to her side. Her eyes shuttered and went off like a candle blown. Severus made a move as if to catch her, but she stumbled into balance and pushed him away.

'Are you alright?'

'I am all-left,' she mumbled. 'You are the one who has given her blood. It is a dangerous thing to give.'

Severus said nothing. He produced a vial of milk from his robes and let the white wash over the place on the wall that his blood should have stained.

They made their way back through the peatland. Again, the woman led, but this time her step faltered with weakness and indecision. Night was painting auroras into the sky that it was too bright to see.

'I understand being buried alive does not encourage generosity,' Severus said, 'but I wish she'd been a little less stingy with information.'

'There will be a choice,' Leeni said.

'What?'

When he looked into her face, it was suddenly cracked like old stone, and from her eyes and nose she was bleeding mud.

'Some evils cannot be stopped,' she repeated. 'They must be borne. The time will come and there will be a choice, but it won't be yours to make.'

The wind blew. Leeni blinked.

'I don't accept that,' Severus said, even though he could tell from the life in her eyes that the witch had gone. Perhaps he was saying it for Leeni's sake, wishing to be understood, or for the peatland, or only for himself.

The wind blew again, and the words were lost in the sound.

The sequel is here!
I am so excited to be sharing this one with you. The plan is to post a new chapter every Wednesday and Saturday. Be on the lookout soon for chapter two, in which Harry gets our story started.