Chapter 56: Backward and Onward

Thursday, April 11th 7:00 PM

Roger walked down the hallway to the duelling room, still unsure he was making the right decision.

The word spread through hushed whispers in common rooms, papers passed around and vanished after reading. The duelling club was starting a group for people who wanted to learn how to defend themselves. In order to attend, you had to sign a binding contract, and if you broke any of the eleven rules on it, then the words 'poo poo face neeeerd' would appear on your forehead and would remain for the foreseeable future. All this secrecy seemed…sketchy, in his opinion. Marguerite had tried to convince him not to go.

But, in the end, curiosity and a sense of duty won out. Even though he hadn't known Lavender and Romilda personally, he still felt the shock of their loss. If someone ever attacked him—or Merlin forbid, Marguerite—he needed to be able to fight back.

Now, while Roger considered himself a good duellist, a few of his classmates were better, some even skilled enough to join the duelling circuit. And, as much as it hurt to admit it, at the top of that list was Harry Potter.

So he was going to learn battle magic from his arch nemesis, who'd publicly humiliated and stolen from him. It was wrong on so many levels.

Roger entered the room, and saw that even though he was early, the duelling chamber was already half full. The red and gold of Gryffindor made up the majority, their side agitated and restless. Hufflepuff made a sizable appearance, probably for Neville's sake. In comparison, Ravenclaw's additions were pitiful, and he felt a stab of shame. It was as if the house of wit and learning didn't see the need for bravery.

Harry stood in front of the room, Dean and Neville beside him.

"I don't want to give you a long speech, but here's what's going on," said Harry. "We're concerned about what's happening in our country, and we want to be prepared. If someone attacks Hogwarts, we can't rely on other people to protect us, like a saviour in a prophecy. We need to be able to defend ourselves. So, Neville, Dean and I will be hosting meetings every night in battle magic. Join us if you want to be part of the solution."

Harry showed them the wand movement to a hex called Heliomaxima. When he fired, a shot of purple fire released from his wand. It struck a wax dummy, leaving a red welt on the arm.

"This will not kill an attacker, but it will hurt them badly. There is a counter spell, Danalispitio, but it's quite difficult to cast when you're screaming in agony. That's good if it hits your enemies, since you'll have time to run away, but not so great if you get hit during a duelling session."

Neville spoke up. "A couple 7th years from Hufflepuff are training to be healers, so they will assist you if you get hurt. You're also going to receive first aid kits, which include resources that can counteract hexes, burns, and other injuries."

Harry folded his arms. "Just so you know, we're taking battle magic seriously. We're going to move quickly through this course, and you will likely get injured. If you're not comfortable with this, well…you know where the door is."

No one moved. Right now, something about facing real injury seemed compelling rather than scary.

"Right then," said Harry. "Let's line up to practice on the dummies. While you're waiting for an open slot, you'll practice shield spells and the counter hex."

Five people lined up to practice the Heliomaxima spell. While Dean and Neville assisted the people practicing defence, Harry made sure everyone could successfully fire the curse. When Roger's turn came, he stepped up to the firing position, and as with the other students Harry watched from two steps away, arms folded.

Roger bristled at the thought of Harry judging his form, and Merlin forbid he should miss. He grit his teeth and cast the spell, firing a burning hex that struck the dummy's chest.

"Nicely done," Harry patted Roger on the back, a strained smile crossing his face. "Thank you for coming."

Roger watched him walk away, realizing there was a heaviness about him that reminded him of Ginny and Ron, who grieved for their friends. He looked like he hadn't slept well.

Once the practice session was completed, Harry gathered the group together.

"Everyone, split up into partners," said Harry. "We're going to be throwing hexes at each other. Right side, you focus on defence. Left side, offense." Everyone lined up, drew their wands. "Remember, only attack your partner. After one minute, we'll stop and see how everyone did. If your partner gets hit, please stop the duel and get them some medical attention. Ready? GO!"

Battle magic class ended well past curfew, and Roger's magic ached as he trudged back to his dorm. He'd learned five different spells, mastering two of them. He'd run, jumped, and dodged people throwing those same hexes at him. Three times he'd been forced to visit the medics.

Roger had never worked so hard in battle since Quirrell's Army, and even then, he hadn't felt the sense of purpose he did now.

He stopped at the entrance to the Ravenclaw dorm, Michael Corner halting beside him.

"What's up?" said Michael.

"I was thinking," said Roger. "Want to do some recruitment in the common room tomorrow?"


Thursday, April 11th 11:00 AM

There were a lot of things Hermione could have been thinking about as she left Hogwarts for the Ministry. She probably pondered over them all on the train ride over.

But the idea that dominated her thoughts as they disembarked at Charing Cross station was that she really didn't want to travel by toilet. Last time had not been…pleasant.

As they left the train station, Cedric asked mildly, "So, are we taking the toilet express again?"

"No, we've decommissioned that entrance," said Madam Bones, walking at a crisp pace down the street. "There's only one way in, and one way out. We'll need to contact security to receive our entrance and exit codes. The rest I will explain later."

Hermione frowned. Maybe this was normal for wizards, but she'd grown up with emergency exits and it felt alarming not to have them, especially since the Ministry was underground.

"What if someone blocks the exit?" asked Cedric, echoing her thoughts. "Like a Muggle car parks in front, or a tree falls down over it?"

"Magic warding protects us from physical blockage, but the real concern is if the Factionists lay siege. In that case, an unknown escape route would be ideal, but secrecy has been hard to maintain lately." Madam Bones sighed as they crossed the street, her heels clicking on the pavement. "We're trying to find other means of improving security. For now, it's easier to maintain the one entrance than leave ourselves vulnerable from every side."

If Hermione had heard this a few months ago, she might have believed it. But now she wondered…did Madam Bones really not have a secret exit? Or was she that trusting of the system she created?

They went to the entrance—located in a small park near Whitehall. They found a tree, whispered some code into a knot in the trunk, and walked through its invisible entrance.

It was only Hermione's third time entering the Ministry, and she still hadn't adjusted to the sheer force of magic in the Atrium. Papers whirring from desk to desk, spell sparks shooting out like clockwork from machines and employees alike. Above their heads, witches and wizards zoomed past on broomsticks along with owl post missives. That was different than last time, and Hermione assumed they'd had to make adjustments after the Apparition ban.

But the most imposing structure was the great statue of Merlin, standing twenty feet high in the centre of the room. His robes billowed, his staff raised with a determined expression, as if guarding everyone from what came in the door. In front of this formidable statue was a tiny plaque that read of his noble sacrifice.

Before Factionist terrorism shut them down, the weekly Ministry tours made the statue an essential stop. On Hermione's tour, her guide told them the tale of how the ancient Wizard sacrificed his life and magic to preserve Wizards from certain death, creating the unbreakable black stone that rose up around them. She'd read it all before, of course, but there was something about hearing it under the imposing golden statue that made it seem more than just a legend.

But there was no time to sightsee as Madam Bones quickly escorted Cedric and Hermione through security, out of the Atrium and into the lifts. Once in her office, the director closed the door and cast several privacy charms.

"Right then," said Madam Bones. "After a brief ceremony, you will be made official Aurors of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and assigned to your roles. Before that, you should be aware of a few things. Since December, we've been fending off the attacks of spies, and we've recently learned the Factionists can gain access to information we once thought secure.

"So we've taken precautions. You will be left in the dark about some vital information, which we would normally allow you access to. We have designated secret keepers, and they remain sequestered in classified locations. That's all I can tell you. But if something seems off—like there's a gaping hole in our defensive or offensive tactics—you're free to speak your mind. We chose you as Aurors because we believe in your abilities, and as such we will always value your input."

Hermione and Cedric glanced at each other. "So…" said Hermione. "How many exits are there really?"

Her lips thinned. "Classified."

She smiled and nodded tightly. "I understand."


"Welcome, new Aurors," said Chief Inspector Rufus Scrimgeour, nodding at them from across the table. "We're glad you could finally join us."

There were a few murmurs of welcome from the circle of DMLE members. Before Hermione could form a response, Scrimgeour said, "Now, let's get this meeting started."

Hermione glanced at the anxious group of Ministry employees surrounding them. A few were Aurors, but others headed different departments, and she could recognize a few from the papers. Hermione was sort of glad Rufus had decided to get on with things, as the last thing she wanted was to introduce herself to this imposing room.

Not to mention, there was a tension in the air that Hermione didn't feel comfortable intruding on. It almost felt like the crackling air before a storm.

"We have some updates on the student disappearances," said Madam Bones. "Auror Shacklebolt, report?"

The Auror gathered his parchment and spoke in a deep voice, "Lavender and Romilda haven't been located yet, but we suspect, based on our investigation, that the kidnapping was perpetrated by the Factionists. An examination of Romilda's room revealed that she has been receiving letters from an individual named "Mr. Black" as far back as January. The letters are dosed with a potion of influence, intended to bring her under his will. We suspect that sometime after receiving the last letter, she began acting as a spy for their cause.

"The other student, Lavender, was an oracle who received many prophecies. Sometime before her disappearance, she confided to several professors that she was being harassed by Romilda for her visions. At her request, Lavender was Obliviated by Headmistress McGonagall on March 3rd and given forgetfulness draughts from Sybill Trelawny. Some of Lavender's prophecies were archived in a Pensieve and are being studied now."

Someone in the room cursed. "If she was Obliviated before they took her, then this isn't a missing person's case, it's a murder investigation."

Auror Shacklebolt grimaced, but finished his report. "There was a second seer, Luna Lovegood. She has not returned to school, but Aurors are searching for her as we speak."

"What of Boris Krum?" asked someone from the Department of International Magical Cooperation. "How is he involved?"

"We examined his room and interviewed all the students, but found nothing incriminating," said Shacklebolt. "The only evidence we have is Alastor Moody's testimony."

"I know what I saw, Rufus," growled Mad Eye, staring at the scarred wand in his clenched hands.

"And I believe you," placated Scrimgeour. "The boy is guilty as sin. But we need to find more evidence if we want to prosecute him, especially considering our political stance with Durmstrang."

Mad Eye was about to respond when a woman spoke. "Excuse me," she held a finger to her ear, concentrating. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but we've just received word of five more victims. They were Aurors working with French politicians, one Auror is dead and the other non-responsive. The politicians are also in critical condition."

"Do we know why they were targeted?" asked Madam Bones, almost rising from her chair.

The woman shook her head. "Not yet. French authorities are handling the situation, and said they'd give an update as soon as they know more."

"This is insane," said a red-faced man. "Not even our Aurors can protect themselves from these Squib terrorists? And we've still found no way to locate the Factionists on our own soil, so now they attack us wherever they bloody like!"

"Why are we bothering to restrict portkeys and Apparition if it doesn't protect us?" added someone from the Department of Magical Transportation. "Three days ago it was Glasgow. You promised at our last meeting that all the Aurors would be enchanted with a spell to block mind magic. So what in Merlin's name went wrong?"

"Apparently," said Madam Bones. "It is not as effective as we thought." With a sharp twist, she turned to the end of the table. "Customs department? You said you found something useful?" Her question was a command. "Let's hear it."

A tall, thin man nodded, pushing his glasses up on his nose with a quivering hand. "Yes, well umm…my team and I have been indexing the Archives, searching for useful spells and enchantments. We found a glamour spell, similar to the ones used by the Factionists. We thought we could use it to hide Hermione in plain sight, and her special abilities could give the Aurors a secret advantage in a fight." He cleared his throat. "Our, uhh, efforts in casting it have not been completely successful yet, but there might be an alternative use for what we did manage to create."

"How so?"

"Well, if it the Factionists are using some form of Legilimency to read minds, then this will stop them from looking at your face."

The table sat in silence.

"Can you show us?"

He squirmed in his seat. "Yes, but please…umm…don't freak out."


"Not sure how long we'll be holding classes," said Tonks. "But while I'm still here, screw the Ministry curriculum. Let's learn how to cast some real firepower."


Friday, April 12th 10:00 AM

For a long time, Minerva had been afraid of failure. She'd never felt worthy of the position of Headmistress, and constantly worried she would catastrophically fail her students. Albus Dumbledore would always placate her by saying she was the best witch for the job in all of England, that the school would be ten times better under her care, and yet she worried.

Now she could see that her worries were well-founded. Her failure to protect Lavender and Romilda would haunt her as long as she lived, but there was no time for grieving. She had to act.

It was Professor Quirrell, of all people, who had given her the warning that spurred her on now. 'Imagine yourself at the end of your life as the darkness eats through the fading walls of Hogwarts, knowing that your students will die with you, remembering this day and realizing there was something else you could have done…'

After a sleepless night, Minerva called Harry Potter into her office. She could still remember the look of betrayal he gave her, and it cut her to think what her inaction had cost. But perhaps her intuition had been right, and it was not the right time to act. Maybe when Harry arrived, he would have calmed down and realized the DMLE had everyone's best interests in mind.

But when Harry entered the room, the temperature must have dropped 5 degrees. He took a seat before her, his mask of indifference barely concealing his anger.

"Harry," she said. "I'd like to discuss something with you."

His arms crossed, he fixed his gaze on her. "Well, Headmistress, you can rest assured that will not be necessary. As you so kindly pointed out, I have been removed from the knowledge of all your affairs, so I'd like to request that you stay out of mine."

"It's not about the DA," she said. "But on that note, I do wholeheartedly approve of your efforts to defend the school."

Harry slightly raised his brows, but said nothing. The Headmistress went on, "At the moment, I cannot tell you about the prophecies or our plans regarding the Factionists. I am sorry. That may change in the future, and if so, I will share that information when I can. In the meantime, there is work to be done. Tell me, what are your other ideas to protect the school?"

Harry blinked. "Umm. What?"

"You have gathered a lot of information already, so you know the kind of threat we're facing. You know there may be another war, and they may attack Hogwarts. What would be the first thing you would do?"

"Hang on," said Harry, choosing his words carefully. "Are you…asking for my assistance?"

She nodded. "I thought it was about time to give you a chance."

He leaned forward, frowning in confusion. "And…what does the Ministry think of this?"

"Last time I checked, I was the Headmistress of this school, and the one in charge of its defence." She folded her hands. "So tell me your ideas, Harry."

He didn't exactly smile, but he relaxed enough that he seemed relieved. "Well, where do I even start?"


"This school needs to be the safest place in the universe," said Harry, as they walked down the hallway. "If the Earth blows up, then the school needs to drift away in space in its own floating bubble of protective wards. But if the school starts getting dangerous—and we need to determine an objective benchmark of what that is—then we need to have plans in place to immediately send students home."

His enthusiasm—how seriously he was taking this responsibility—made her want to smile. There was an echo of Lily's sensibility in his voice.

"That seems sensible, but difficult to implement. How would we do it?"

"Well, first we'd need to update the wards," said Harry. "It seems to me this hasn't been done in a while, and…is this the place?"

He stopped in front of a portrait of Salazar Slytherin's wizard father, a painting so old that its occupant slept almost constantly.

"Yes," said Minerva.

He took the painting off the wall and cast a privacy charm, though there wasn't anything of interest to see. As far as magic went, warding was quite boring. The only sign of magic was the runes embedded in the long, grey slabs of rock. Harry stood for a solid minute with his eyes closed, his hand resting on one of the stones.

"Hmm, the wards are already quite powerful," he said, blinking his eyes open. "But there's a lot of untapped magic in this school that's just sitting there, waiting to be utilized. I could increase our protection against brute force, such as bombs and frontal attacks. However, for complete coverage we'd have to max out the castle's resources, limiting its effect in other areas. I think we should only do this if nuclear warfare becomes a real concern.

"Our other option is that I could channel that energy into increasing stealth. We can't be completely invisible, but we could make ourselves more difficult to access. I don't think I can overstate how important stealth is for magical protection. There's some pretty sneaky reality warping effects we could use, which could at least deflect most scrying spells as well as heat-seeking missiles."

He grinned, then went back to his work. "We could also key the wards to trigger when someone enters or leaves, locking them in or out. Or…hold on…we could even put a time delay on that! Now, that's interesting, I wonder if we could build a trap, and if it can be localized to certain areas…"

Harry messed with the stones a bit longer, studying them as if reading a textbook. Minerva was baffled. "How did you learn all this?"

"Err…it's obvious? I mean, the castle isn't exactly trying to hide its secrets. Then again, I did crack the wards a few years ago, so I might have an upper hand there."

Minerva frowned. One did not simply crack the wards of a magical school. It wasn't unlikely or difficult, it was impossible, like travelling to space in your underwear. Even that Marauder's Map was somewhat sanctioned by Dumbledore. The stones gained their power from ancient rituals of blood magic, so the only people who could access the wards were those permitted to do so.

Like for example, the Headmistress of Hogwarts. Or the Head of the Wizengamot, who holds the Line of Merlin.

"I'd like permission to make the modifications I specified, Headmistress," Harry said.

She blinked at him. "Which ones, exactly?"

He repeated his idea, and she replied. "Mr. Potter, a ward shift like that would require a lot of power and finesse. Even a trained ward master would have trouble."

"Hmm." Harry shrugged. "I don't think I'm doing this incorrectly, but I'll leave the changes reversible in case they are. I shouldn't require assistance, but if I do, I know of a ward master or two of good repute I could call for consultation."

She watched as Harry silently adjusted the wards, updating them with his own plans. She felt the wards shift, as any Headmistress would, and it shocked her how readily the castle obeyed him.

Minerva studied him. Luna's prophecy said that the boy would come into his power, and this would trigger the destruction of the world. This was the reason that Madam Bones and Mad Eye tried to keep him as weak and uninformed as possible. But in spite of this, here he was, manipulating the wards of Hogwarts like it was child's play.

She considered Alastor's warning about his mind being tampered with, Amelia Bones saying she didn't trust him. If that was the only information Minerva had had to work with, then she would never have shown Harry the wards. And yet, she'd been doing her own research, and something wasn't adding up about the prophecies. There were inconsistencies that couldn't be explained through misinterpretation alone. As for the mind tampering, that was…troubling, but there were alternative explanations. She and Remus had discussed it at length the night before.

In any case, all the evidence against Harry didn't change the fact that he had a great mind for defensive tactics, and he had proven his loyalty time and again. So in spite of everything, she was going to follow her gut, and that told her she should trust Harry.

Minerva did not know if it was the right decision, but she couldn't help but think that Godric Gryffindor would approve.

"Looks like it's all finished," said Harry, placing the portrait back. "Shall we move on to the kitchens? I have an idea that requires the skills of House Elves."

Harry continued walking down the hall, and Minerva followed.


Wednesday April 10th 12:00 PM

Bellatrix and Draco stood together in the Priestess's room. The world outside showed a cloudy winter day, the world covered in white.

"Well," said Bellatrix, in her soft, childlike voice. "Looks like you do have access to her room. Could it be…she was telling the truth?"

His aunt paced the room, her gaze searching the corners for clues. She picked up a bag off the desk, looked under it, set it down with confusion and kept searching.

Draco observed her with grave calm. Inside, he was numb with shock at the thought that he, Draco, was the leader of a mob at the precipice of a revolution. He felt like a clumsy toddler, standing with his foot over the Earth. He could change the Wizarding World for the better, or he could bring it crashing down. It all depended on what he did next.

But before he could think what to say, Bellatrix fired on him, a red, screaming curse that looked like it emerged from hell itself. Draco threw up a protection spell—one of the first he'd memorized from the Priestess's lore—and the curse dissolved into nothingness.

"Hmm. Interesting," Bellatrix said, wand tapping her chin. "You wouldn't have been able to block that if you were lying about the Priestess's gift. That was a favourite curse of the dark lord, by the way. You dodge or you die."

Draco straightened up, trying not to show his fear. That wastoo close. Perhaps he should have expected it from his Aunt, but it was still insane to curse your ally like that.

Then again, his father had warned him about this. Transfer of power is always messy. People form new alliances, and old ones are broken to make space for them. Just make sure your alliance is something they can't live without.

"I told you, the Priestess gave me her legacy," Draco said, keeping his voice steady. He formed a shield around himself, one that would repel curses on the caster. "I have access to her lore, power and position. It would be to your advantage to join me, while I'm offering the option."

They stared at each other a few seconds.

"Hmm…should I now?" mused Bellatrix, pacing. "If, as you say, the Priestess is gone, then maybe my plan should change too. No need to sneak around, searching for artefacts and secrets. We are strong enough to take what it is we want. Of course, if you don't agree, I could always take my followers and do it myself."

Draco stood straight, wand in hand. He considered calling her bluff, but she was chaotic enough to do it, and probably had been preparing to break away for some time. If she left, he could lose as many as two thirds of their followers, which would fracture their group and sway the other leaders to her side. Losing the support of the Squib Factionists was one thing, but to turn the other magical leaders against him was not a wise first move.

Not to mention, Draco was concerned about Lavender's prophecy. A dragon, an heir and a queen. If his interpretation was correct, it seemed to suggest they were bound to work together, and thwarting that prophecy could have dangerous consequences.

"I propose an alliance," said Draco. "The Priestess has given me several powerful items in her possession, along with knowledge of secrets that will be necessary to our cause. At this very moment, our followers are gathering the last of the prophecies for us. She has also given me weapons that can bring our enemies to their knees, if we choose to use them. Aunt Bellatrix, you have experience that I lack. You have more practice using magical lore, and you have followers who obey your every word. We need that to complete our plan."

"You're talking about the plan to get the Philosopher's Stone?" said Bellatrix. "The plan to find the Source of Magic?"

Draco nodded.

She laughed with a loud, extravagant cackle, as if she'd practiced for the role of evil queen. "Oh Draco…" She wiped her eyes. "If you think that was the real plan, you really are quite naïve."

"Aunt Bellatrix, I told you I have her powers, her artefacts. What she told us is true. The Philosopher's Stone goes by another name, the Stone of Permanence. One use of the stone can prolong someone's life indefinitely. We could use it to cure people, to save lives. Using it strategically will allow us to gain political power as well, to say nothing of the other ancient lore we could rediscover— "

"So what? It doesn't matter," said Bellatrix. "We've seen searching for that stone for months, and we are still no closer to finding it. The same goes for the Source of Magic. If the Ministry doesn't have it, then it may take years to find it. There are easier roads to revolution, and the Priestess must have known that. But between you and me, her promise to save the world? It's a farce. The fact that she's left you everything makes me even more certain. She has no intention of helping anyone, not even you."

He thought back to what the Priestess had told him. I am leading a movement against the British Ministry, but my interests are entirely self-seeking. I simply wish to retrieve what was stolen from me, which I can no longer find on my own. My quest just so happens to align with the goals of my followers, who are seeking justice for their own grievances. They allow me to use them, and so I do.

Draco had let himself be used, because he believed she could make everything right again. The immortality artifact would heal his mother. The fight against the Ministry would avenge his father. And Draco would eventually get to make something of himself, find his place of safety in a broken world. He had that now, thanks to her, though he didn't know for how much longer.

But what did Bellatrix want? That was the question.

"I know that you want revenge against the DMLE," said Draco. "In my plan to gain control, we can do that. Our weapons are powerful enough to force the Ministry to give up what they're hiding—which is what both of us are after. If they accede to our demands, which I believe they will, then we can return to you what you've lost. If they still refuse, then we'll make them pay for what they've done. We'll burn down their throne if we have to, and build a new one from the ashes."

"Inspiring speech, my little Slytherin." She considered a moment. "Let's discuss terms. I assume you want Potter? Then I claim the Ministry, and I'll need access to the weapons."

Draco stiffened, but knew he had to make this concession if he wanted her support. "Very well. If you enter into a binding contract of fealty and promise to discuss all plans with me beforehand, then I will let you coordinate this attack."

She nodded. "And it's time for us to quit sneaking around like church mice. We need to make more noise, if we're to get what we're after."

"Bellatrix," he warned. "We must restrict any violence to what is necessary." His father used to say that a Death Eater who caused needless destruction, ended up being a dead one. "We'd only be putting ourselves at risk."

"Calculated destruction, then," said Bellatrix. "I can show restraint, despite what you might think. You see, I know a few secrets about the Ministry too. You said you could benefit from my experience, and I'm telling you that we've done enough preparation. It's time to properly start our revolution."

Draco appraised her. "There is one more thing to be done first. After that…if destructive revolution is still inevitable, then so be it."

"Excellent." She clapped her hands. "Now, what's in that Gryffindor garbage on your desk there?"

Draco looked at the scarlet and gold bag. "It has some things Romilda took from Hogwarts."

Bellatrix stretched out her hand. "Give it here, love."

After a moment's hesitation, he handed it over, and she searched through the items. She gasped, then let out a murmur of appreciation. "Dear me, your little bird was busy." Bellatrix reached in deep and pulled something out. "Ohh, I really like this one."

Draco observed the item in her hand. "What does it do?"

She gazed at it with affection. "It makes my plan so much simpler." She tossed it in her hand and caught it. "We'll give it a test later, but before that…" Her hands wringed his neck in a hug. "Tell me everything you learned from the Priestess and your friend at Hogwarts."


Wednesday, April 10th 2:00 pm

Luna sat at home, painting on the floor of her room.

McGonagall had sent her Patronus a few hours ago, asking Luna to come to Hogwarts. She'd politely declined. There was nothing they could do to protect her.

Luna often received visions—several more than the ones McGonagall knew about. She'd done her best to avoid having those memories taken by the enemy, but she knew it wouldn't be long.

She paused, gazing up at the walls containing her visions.

Luna often thought of her prophecies as dark muses. They weren't bad—they were just trying to warn people. The problem was that their information was so very dangerous. Everyone would want it, and they'd rip her apart to get it.

If she went back to Hogwarts, the Aurors would try to protect her from the prophecies, seal them away and use them. But in that version of reality, Luna would die like Lavender did.

Luna had already done everything she could to preserve the information. Now the only way she could live was if she gave the enemy what they wanted.

Her brush, poised carefully over a point in a star, stopped abruptly, her hand shaking.

She didn't know if any of her prophecies had been Obliviated, but she suspected a few had, though she couldn't remember why. The enemy might destroy her mind to get them, or just because they preferred her dead to alive. Her father would find her body when he came home from work, if the Aurors didn't get there first. Would anyone in Ravenclaw notice she was gone? Maybe they wouldn't. It was better that way.

But she found herself wishing they would care. She wished she had friends who missed her, who wanted to protect her. Why was it so easy to befriend the voices who spoke to her, but so hard to talk to people?

If all her prophecies were true, though, she wouldn't be alone forever. But it was scary, thinking of the future on Earth she would never get to see.

Luna kept painting, getting the last of the image completed, letting the muses guide her.

And then the enemy came for her.


Wednesday, April 10th 11:00 pm

The Weasleys were hunkering down in their joke shop when the door blasted open.

"Why, hello boys!" cried Bellatrix. "Ready to have some fun?"

With grim determination, they stood to face her.

All preparations were not complete, but they'd tried their best. They'd considered going down hard, unleashing their store of pranks and defensive weapons to give themselves a chance at escape, or at least take someone down with them. But as it turned out, their Going Out in a Blaze of Glory plan got a bit more complicated.

Fred clasped George's hand. "Ready brother?"

George nodded, pulling out their time turner. "Ready."

They had no idea what this would do—with all the enchantments they'd cast on it, they might be blown to smithereens. Still, if they were doing this, if they were really going to die, it had to be in the most spectacular way possible. And it had to be together.

Just as Bellatrix cast her hex, they turned it, and disappeared.


Date: Unknown

They woke up in a land of greyness, where everything was shrouded in impenetrable mist.

"Took you long enough, young Gryffindors!" cried a voice. "Now come over here, we have much to discuss, and planning for the end of the world to do."


Author's notes:

Sorry for jumping back and forth in time like a ping pong ball. Basically, the stuff with Draco happens first, then Hermione, then Harry.

Okay, so I realized there's a few HPMOR facts that people might like to know in order to understand what's going on, and what will eventually happen in this story. I'll eventually put them in the chapters they belong. Spoilers for HPMOR.

Time turners:

They have limits in this universe. Can only go 6 hours into the past. The Weasleys made one that puts a jinx 4-6 weeks into the past, but nobody can use them to travel further than 6 hours into the past. Well. Except whatever the Weasleys just did with theirs.

Harry's unbreakable vow:

Harry was forced by Voldemort to make a vow not to destroy the world. Unbreakable vows work differently in HPMOR than in canon—you cannot do anything that could cause you to break the vow. So Harry cannot destroy the world, or even take an action that could potentially lead to that happening. He doesn't remember making that vow, but he is still bound by it. Mentioned in chapter 55.

Where is Voldemort?:

In the end of HPMOR, Voldemort's unconscious body was transfigured into a ring that Harry wore on his finger. If that sounds kinda crazy to you, then you know how I felt about that. This "Voldemort ring" was alluded to in chapter 50, with the events that happened in Harry's office.

Harry is heir to the Line of Merlin:

Another piece of lore from HPMOR was that the Line of Merlin—the leader of the Wizengamot—passes on at the last person's death. Dumbledore was the last one, who passed it on to Harry. This transference is alluded to in this chapter.

Harry is a Voldemort:

So…Voldemort created Harry Potter as a clone of himself. According to the Maurader's Map, Harry Potter's name is 'Tom Riddle.' This is the source of Harry's dark side. I probably should have put this in chapter 20.

Interdict of Merlin:

From HPMOR wiki: "The Interdict of Merlin is a magical bond over the entire world that forbids powerful spells to be transmitted except from one living mind to another, and in particular to learn such spells from written text. The Interdict was laid in force by Merlin who, according to legend, sacrificed his life and magic to this end." Mentioned in chapter 49 in a conversation with Remus and Harry.