Chapter Three: The Venturing Out
I've got nothing left, it's kind of wonderful
'Cause there's nothing they can take away
– "Perfect World," Broken Bells
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The room was dead silent for a full minute before anyone spoke.
"Murder is not an option, Ginny," replied Luna in an unusually sharp tone. When she looked up, her silvery eyes were hard.
Ginny stared back, unyielding. "None of you knows him better than I do," she retorted, addressing the room. "And I'm telling you, it's the only way."
Ron stood slowly. "I… think I'm with Ginny on this one," he affirmed. "'S obviously not ideal, but these are some pretty extreme circumstances, aren't they?"
Ginny shot him a grateful glance, and added, "The most extreme." She folded her arms and raised her eyebrows at Luna, then sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, Luna, I really am. I appreciate your sense of… high ideals… But there's a time and a place for that. We have to look for a practical solution here."
"No," Luna insisted flatly. "If that's what we're going to use this for, I can't be a part of it."
"Luna's right," Neville put in sturdily. "We can't be like him. There has to be another way."
"Well — what would you suggest instead, Luna?" Hermione hurriedly asked, her eyes darting between the other four. "Neville?"
Luna was silent for a moment, thinking. Then, "We know why he became this way. The Horcruxes… the murder. There has to be a way to stop it. Show him something better. Something nice." She nodded firmly, glancing at Neville, who gave a reassuring smile back.
"Something nice?" Ginny sputtered. "Luna, just think for a minute! Tom Riddle was — is — the Heir of Slytherin! He killed Moaning Myrtle while he was at school — do you really think you could possibly get through to a fucking psychopath?" Her voice was inflecting wildly as she grew more and more agitated.
"Yes," said Luna serenely, gazing at Ginny with a sort of owlish, unblinking focus.
Ginny made a noise that was half growl, half snort, and sat down heavily on the armchair Ron had been occupying a few moments before.
"How about this," Hermione ventured carefully. "We send two people back to a time when Voldemort is vulnerable — probably his school years, as we wouldn't have much trouble fitting in and knowing the lay of things. One of you does what Luna's saying — try to get through to him, maybe make friends. Convince him that what he's doing is wrong." Her brown eyes moved steadily between Ginny and Luna. "If that fails, we kill him. Agreed?"
Ginny raised her eyebrows again at Luna, who merely said, "It's your soul, I suppose."
Satisfied, Ginny retreated up the stairs to get some sleep. Luna, yawning, lay down on the floor by the empty fireplace to catch a few minutes' rest as well while Neville left the Tower to check that all was still quiet. Ron and Hermione curled up together on the sofa.
When the sound of Luna's quiet snores reached the other two, Ron shifted to face Hermione, frowning. Considerate of their sleeping friend, his voice was barely a whisper.
"Do you — I mean, Hermione, do you really think anybody would be able to get through to that — I mean, a monster like him…"
"No," she murmured with a sigh. "I don't. I'm not even sure he deserves that chance. But Luna is right… if that fails, it's one of our souls on the line. Killing him should be a last resort."
"If that's the case…" He paused. "You're not going to like this."
Hermione was silent for a moment. "You want to go instead of Ginny," she said finally. Her voice was thick with barely-contained tears. "You want me to let you kill him instead of her."
Ron nodded, taking a deep, slow breath.
"I can't," she whispered. "Ron, please don't make me do this. Let me go instead, or — or something."
"None of us will be able to cast the spell without you, Hermione," he said firmly. "You're the most brilliant witch I've ever met. You have to be the one to do it." He shifted around a little more to look in her eyes. "You're the only one I trust."
A tear crept out of the inside corner of her eye and down her nose, and her chin crumpled as she resisted the urge to argue. Finally, Hermione nodded, burying her face in his chest.
"Just promise… you'll be careful. That your soul — " her voice caught and she sniffed, restraining a sob, " — will be the only thing that comes back broken." Almost inaudibly, she added, "I can't lose you."
Too hung between them in the air, unspoken.
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Five and a half hours later, the students still had no answer to the problem of the temporal anchor. It seemed an impossible dilemma; no magical object or material that any of them could think of seemed capable of holding a temporal focus at a manageable size and weight. At last, Hermione suggested heavily that they might try going up to the Hospital Wing and seeing after the condition of Professor Vector, who had been hit with a particularly nasty curse during the second wave of attacks and had fallen into a magical coma. It seemed unlikely that she would wake anytime soon given the extent of her injuries, but the group was running out of options and had little choice but to hope for a miracle.
When Hermione, Neville, and Luna arrived at the Hospital Wing, it was much fuller and much quieter than it had been since the last time any of them had been there. As Madame Pomfrey was herself incapacitated by some variant of the Skull-Swelling Hex which made it difficult for her to move, the Wing was being operated by a team of students — all excellent healers, but who were all clearly running themselves ragged with the amount of work. Luna wondered a little regretfully if she had been using her time properly; she likely could have been of some help here, despite her minimal knowledge of serious healing techniques. Hannah Abbott, who had been elected as their leader, looked as if she hadn't slept in several days. When Neville asked after Professor Vector, a white-faced and heavily freckled second year led them to her bedside.
"She hasn't woken up on her own yet," the boy explained in a thin, tired voice. "We might be able to wake her with rennervate, but Hannah says it's best for her if we wait." Hermione sighed and nodded. Despite the urgency of their mission, no one was willing to risk Professor Vector's safety.
"Maybe we could ask one of the other professors," offered Neville. "I'm sure one of them must have an idea of what to do."
"Ho there!" came a weak voice from a few beds over. "Are you in need of help?" Professor Slughorn, his face waxen and sweating, but with a determined gleam in his eye, was struggling to sit up. Glancing at each other, the three students quickly made their way to his bedside.
"You mustn't overexert yourself, Professor," Hermione said, looking worried.
"Nonsense, nonsense," Slughorn puffed, pushing himself into a sitting position. "Now — what's the plot? A new chink discovered in You-Know-Who's armour, perhaps?" He looked hopeful.
Luna and Hermione exchanged looks. "You could say that," said Luna finally. "But not quite in the way you might imagine. We think we might have found a way… to save Harry."
"Save Harry!" echoed Slughorn breathlessly, tears coming to his eyes. "Indeed? Not thinking of trying to raise the dead, are you?" he added as an afterthought, with some trepidation.
"No, no, it's nothing like that," Hermione assured him. "We're trying to work out a way to…" Her voice grew quieter out of habit — as they all knew, the topic was something of a taboo among learned wizards due to the immense risks it posed to the wizarding world at large. "Sir, we want to use time travel. Stop Harry getting killed and… well, we don't want to be overly optimistic, but we're hoping to fix quite a lot." She looked at him anxiously. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about time magic, would you, Professor?"
Slughorn's brow furrowed. "I'll be honest with you, my dear, it's not exactly my area of expertise. Perhaps I might be of some little help to you, though… What seems to be the, er, nature of the problem?"
"Well, it's like this — " Neville stepped forward, holding up the parchment that held the greatest amount of their work, and quickly explained the issue.
When he finished, Slughorn was frowning more deeply. "I'm afraid I'm somewhat lost on a good deal of this," he admitted finally. "But have you considered using a bezoar?"
Almost immediately, Hermione's eyes glazed over. "Thank you for your time, Professor — " she began a little brusquely, but Slughorn held up a hand.
"No, no, Miss Granger, wait a minute. I know that as Potions Master, I'm not your first choice to ask about this. But it sounds to me — " he gave her a pointed look, "as if you're searching for a magical material that can hold a heavy enchantment, for a long period of time, without deteriorating. Is that correct?"
Hermione's lips flattened in impatience. "That's part of it, but — "
"Wait just a minute, Miss Granger," Slughorn repeated, looking a little put out. "Really, I know this is a matter of some urgency, but listen to me for just a moment." He looked around at all of them. "Bezoars are primarily known for their use in relation to poisons, it's true, but they really have astounding, as-yet-untapped magical potential in other areas as well. We still aren't sure why the bezoar acts as a magical panacea, when nothing about its creation seems magical at all. But as a magical substance, it is, simply put, unique. If you've been down the list and nothing seems to have worked thus far, that would be my suggestion." He settled back onto his cot, clearly exhausted from his tirade.
Hermione took a breath as if to snap at him, then paused and closed her mouth, evidently deep in thought.
"Thank you very much, Professor," said Luna, and tugged Hermione's hand for her to follow as she and Neville turned to leave.
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Later that night, at about three in the morning, Luna and Ron were each holding an enchanted bezoar and standing in elaborately drawn chalk circles on the floor of the library. Ginny was standing with her back to them, lips twisted in worry and anger at Ron's insistence that he take her place, while Neville helped Hermione set up the rest of the spell.
Suddenly Ginny whirled around, her face looking as though the worry had overtaken the anger. "Remember the plan," she blurted desperately. "Go to Dumbledore first, and if that doesn't work out, try McGonagall. Don't lose the bezoar. If you need to get back, just say the counterspell — and don't draw too much attention — you haven't got solid backgrounds, either of you. If somebody starts nosing round and looking into you, you're finished."
"Thanks ever so," Luna teased softly with a little smile. Although she felt badly about it for Ron's sake, she was still rather glad that Ginny was staying behind and wouldn't be risking her own soul in the venture.
Ginny rolled her eyes and gave them both quick, too-hard hugs, thrusting Hermione's enchanted bag — which held all their necessary possessions and supplies — into Luna's hands. "Don't forget that," she mumbled, and hugged her friend again.
"Ready," said Neville, looking apprehensive, and Ginny backed away.
Hermione's eyes flicked between the two of them, carefully not-anxious. "Are you both feeling okay? Everything set? Any questions?"
"Fine on all sides," answered Ron, looking a bit on edge.
"Fine," echoed Luna, clutching the moke-skin bag and swaying a little in her chalk circle.
Hermione raised her wand and pronounced the incantation clearly, and the two of them vanished in a spray of orange sparks and citrus-scented smoke.
"A bit flashy, don't you think?" Ginny mumbled, eyes overbright.
"I didn't craft the damned spell," Hermione choked out, herself still fighting tears.
A moment later, both of them burst into a fit of giggles.
Neville, after a moment of silence, only shook his head good-naturedly and set to work cleaning up the chalk on the floor.
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A/N: Slightly longer chapter this time. I got impatient! I'm really excited to get this rolling. Please shoot me a kudos or a comment if you're enjoying the story! xo shai