Chapter 65: Skyfall
11:30 pm
Draco had been occupied the last few hours, preparing the final steps of his plan to save Britain.
But that all came to a halt when the healers told him his mother was dying.
He knelt beside her bed in Malfoy manor, his arms pressing the heavy covers. Her face was pale as she laboured to draw in breath, each attempt raspy and painful. Draco squeezed her hand with gentle pressure, "Just hold on, Mum. One more day, and I'll have a cure for you. Please, Mum."
His mother's gasps for air were alarmingly few and far between. The healers had already run their battery of tests, shook their heads and told him to say his goodbyes. But no, he couldn't, not when they were so close.
"Draco…" she whispered, almost too soft to hear. "Sweet…Draco…"
She took in a shuddering breath, and then sighed out, "I love you."
After that, she remained still.
"Mum?"
He waited several silent seconds, then laid his hand on her heart. It was not beating.
Draco stood, his mind stumbling over this new reality.
No. She's not dead yet.
He drew his wand and rushed to cast a stasis spell, the yellow light swirling around her. It would keep her in her present condition for about twenty-four hours. Her magic had not yet left her body, which meant there was some life left. When the prophecy was completed, and the magical artefact of immortality was found, he would save her.
Draco lowered his wand, listening to the silence surrounding him. He gazed at his mother who shimmered with yellow magic, as if her body was trying to expel her essence.
He turned away, forced himself not to think about it. Reaching for his bag on the table, Draco extracted the Orb of Worlds.
He'd loaned it to Bellatrix, but never left it in her possession for long. Their plans worked better when he did the scrying, and whispered information to her through a Muggle inspired earpiece. They'd committed a lot of unspeakable crimes for their cause. And yet, he'd still been too ashamed to use the orb for what he'd originally planned.
Taking it now into his hands, he stared into its depths. Greece was two hours ahead, so it would be around 1:30 am. She'd probably be asleep. The room would be dark, but at least he could glimpse her face. Maybe he'd see a bit of the life she'd built around herself. He hesitated, watching the fireplace crackle within the smooth glass. Up until now, he'd been unable to do this. He preferred the perfect fantasy he'd constructed to what might be harsh reality.
But the end was here, and he needed to see her.
He cast the soft words that activated the orb, and then said, "Show me Romilda Vane."
The orb flashed with white light, and then settled into an image of a dark night sky.
Frowning, Draco tried to turn the view, but the orb refused. Then, he realized she might have changed her name, or the orb might be stuck in her dream. So he tried being more precise, "Show me where the physical form of the girl I knew as Romilda Vane is currently located."
The room became darker as the stars vanished, leaving impenetrable darkness. Draco turned the view, tried panning out, and he found his viewpoint crawling through layers of dirt and rocks.
Draco stopped scanning, then rushed to perform more tests. He checked the procedure with Lavender, and the same thing happened. They were both underground, and neither one was moving.
It could only mean one thing.
He set down the orb, a thousand frantic thoughts racing through his mind. How did she die? Was she murdered? Fool! If you'd checked on her sooner, you could have saved her!
The door opened, revealing a sliver of light from the hallway. "Draco," said Boris. "We have a situation. Luna's prophecies have been discovered, and Greyback wants to know how you'd like him to handle it."
Draco stared at Boris, the realization hitting him so fast he struggled not to react.
It was you. You murdered her.
"Draco?" said Boris.
Heart pounding, his mind worked through his options. Even if Draco could prove Boris' guilt, it didn't matter. They were so close to the end that there was no time to change their plans. Like it or not, Boris was needed. For now, at least.
Draco stilled his expression. He could not let Boris suspect his anger at the betrayal. Not until he'd decided what he was doing about it.
He nodded, his voice carefully level. "I will go and speak to him."
Boris glanced at his mother. "I can stay with her, if you—"
"Not necessary," cut in Draco. "I will return shortly. Go take care of the arrangements for tomorrow."
Boris' eyes settled on Draco briefly, and then he said, "I am sorry. For your mother."
Draco turned and walked down the corridor, hot anger settling his resolve. He was nearly finished making his own preparations. An insurance policy, in case things went the wrong way tonight.
He would save his mother, the last good thing he had in this world. Or he'd let everything burn.
###
1:09 am
The city of London shone unnaturally bright through the window. Hermione glanced down at the streets, saw the crowds of Muggles staring at the sky, police cars parked beside them, lights blinking silently.
It must be so surreal for them, she imagined. The Muggle and Magical worlds were finally meeting, though not in a way anyone anticipated. Panic would come for them soon, but for now, all they could do was stare at the sky in wonder and confusion.
Outside of that quiet Muggle world, in a small conference room in St. Mungos, Hermione heard Kingsley's deep, troubled voice.
"The entire city is cut off from the outside world," said Kingsley, pacing, hands behind his back. "We've tried port keys, Apparition, floo magic, but nothing works. It's like someone dropped a giant, impenetrable dome around London."
"Is the dome expanding?" asked Madam Bones, her voice weak. Her razor sharp edge was gone, along with her right eye.
"Not yet," said Kingsley. "But we predict it will soon. However, with a little more time, I think we'll be able to contact people outside the dome, like Moody or the French Aurors. They might be able to help us."
Harry had been allowed into their Auror meeting this time. Hermione suspected the lax security was because 'it couldn't get any worse.' When the silence had stretched for several seconds, nobody arguing or contributing, Harry cleared his throat.
"So...that's our plan? We've got a whole team of Aurors, and our plan is to sit here and wait to be rescued?"
There was a certain pause in the room. Hermione thought she should get indignant at Harry, but found it hard to spare the energy.
"Our plan is to save London," Kingsley said, with a look of confusion. "Once we make contact, our Aurors will get the materials in place for the ritual, just as before."
"Well, obviously, that's not going to happen anymore. Moody and all his ritual knowledge, plus the six unicorns and six trolls, are outside the dome, and we are inside. Unless you plan on waiting until the dome expands enough to cover all that, we need to explore other options."
"You do realize Plan B would be blowing up the Ministry?" asked Kingsley, eyes locked onto Harry. "I don't know about you, but I'd prefer not to kill millions yet if I don't have to."
"Yes, that would be very bad," said Harry. "But we're not quite out of options. Has anyone spoken to the Prime Minister and his cabinet yet?"
The room was blinking at him like he'd just asked if they'd fed his pet whale.
"Don't tell me you guys are worried about breaking the statute of secrecy-"
"There's no reason to tell them," said Madam Bones, her thin voice gaining back some of its edge. "They'll only panic and overrun the ruined Ministry even more than they are currently doing. It helps no one."
"We could work with them," said Harry. "They don't have magic, but they have science and technology that could give us a better estimate on how much time we have left. They have the numbers to help you in your search for Mad Eye and the French Aurors at the city's edge. At the very least, it's just common decency to apologize when you create a radioactive time warping sinkhole in the middle of downtown."
Kingsley stared at Harry with a kind of grudging interest. "You were raised among Muggles, and you know what they are like. So I ask you honestly. Do you really think it will help?"
"Yes," said Harry. "And if it doesn't, we can't get any more screwed than we already are. It's time to take some risks."
Kingsley sighed. "Billings, I'm assigning you to go down to speak to the Prime Minister. Might as well take Harry with you."
Harry's back straightened in surprise; he squeezed Hermione's hand.
But before they had time to get used to the idea, Madam Bones sighed, sounding incredibly tired. "You're all treating this like some terrible accident, but it's not. This is a powerful dark ritual, unfolding exactly as the prophecies foretold. Don't you see? We are players in a game we cannot win, not unless we take exactly the right steps. And that, I am afraid, we cannot do...not without a light to guide us."
Her gaze settled on Hermione, as if trying to tell her something.
There was a clattering sound outside, and then a man wrenched opened the door, his face pale. "Alastor Moody just contacted us. Harold is still missing, but he says he found Tonks in Ottery St. Catchpole. She…she's dead."
The next few seconds felt dim and disorienting, as if they didn't exist, or were moving in slow motion. Tonks, the friend who was so full of life. That Tonks? It-it-no.
Suddenly it was all too much and Hermione needed to run, to breathe, to think-
And then Harold popped into existence beside her, collapsing as soon as he materialized, his blood spilling onto the carpet.
###
Harold was grateful that the world had finally stopped spinning, even if nothing else made sense. The room was too bright, and everyone was moving double-time, like they'd all taken speed potions as a prank.
Slow down, he tried to say, but his mouth refused to cooperate.
Finally, the world slowed down enough where he could catch words. A wide face leaned over him. "Check...pulse."
He saw a blur race out the door, James Potter running after them.
Harold was confused at first when he saw James. The Gryffindor was a few years ahead of him in Hogwarts, so they weren't friends, but everyone knew about the Quidditch champion. By the time Harold graduated and joined the Ministry, the war had claimed James' life.
Did that mean this was…the afterlife? Harold was dead, and he'd gotten sent to a conference room limbo, of all places?
Harold closed his eyes against the madness, wanting to scream at his terrible, unfortunate luck. It wasn't fair, he had come so close! If only he'd a chance to warn his brother, tell him what he'd found...
When he felt safe enough to open his eyes, Harold saw Kingsley standing at his side. His eyes misted, and his lips moved slowly, making little more than a whisper.
His brother said, "Hold…hold...on."
Then, as the world slowed down a bit more, Harold heard Madam Bones, "Someone needs to follow Harry and Hermione."
His mind quickly realized that it was Harry he saw, not James. This was St. Mungos, and Harold felt very much alive, his body aching but solid and real.
But instead of relief, Harold felt unease settling in the pit of his stomach. "Kingsley...where is...Tonks?"
Kingsley's face was grim. "She's dead, Harold. Alastor found her outside the time displacement. How did you get inside?"
"What? I…but why did she…"
He remembered the purple light hitting Tonks, her body crumpling to the ground. My fault. Then he'd fallen into the pentagram on the floor, Greyback looming over him as he struggled to protect the papers…
The papers!
"Kingsley, where are my papers? The ones I wrote symbols on?"
Harold's mind was working fast now, trying to make up for lost time. He needed to cast the translation spell, finish reading them, and stop the prophecy from happening. Maybe there was still time—
A ringing sound filled the room, and Harold's hair stood on end. Kingsley and Madam Bones both drew their wands. They heard a scream, and his brother flung the door wide, leaving in spite of Harold's own strangled cry.
The ringing rose in pitch, until finally the room filled with an excruciating bright light. A shockwave of energy ripped through the window, shattering the glass and sending Harold flying into the wall, his papers fluttering alongside him.
###
She's dead, Hermione's thoughts echoed, as she stumbled out of the room. She was murdered by Greyback…no, by Bellatrix…
Hermione ran down the hall until she saw Remus. He was sitting on an uncomfortable hospital chair, attempting with shaking hands to light a pipe.
Her legs itched to keep running, to flee from all this, but there was nowhere to go. Wordlessly she sat beside him, pressing her hands on her lap. Eventually Remus gave up on the pipe, letting his head sink into his hands. They didn't say anything for a long moment.
"Why?" she said, softly.
"To punish Mad Eye," said Remus. "But it doesn't matter, does it?"
Hermione felt a terrible helplessness rising inside her. She reached over and hugged him.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, because there was nothing better to say.
"It's not your fault," he said, his light beard rasping against her cheek, the tang of tobacco on his breath. "I just…wish I could have been there for her."
She heard him let out a sob. It was soft and quiet, but his entire body shook in her arms.
As they tried to comfort each other, Hermione felt the wrongness splitting something inside her. Tonks had been killed, and only because the murderer wanted to hurt Mad Eye, to steal yet another person from Hermione. Her heart filled with an anger she couldn't process, raging against the reality that shouldn't be allowed to exist.
Harry's footsteps came pounding down the hall a minute later, squeaking on the tile as he came to a halt. "Where is Tonks' body?"
"Mad Eye has it," said Hermione.
"Can…someone tell him to keep it cold?" asked Harry. "The temperature needs to be around 5 degrees Celsius in order to protect her brain, unless you know of a magical means to preserve her."
Remus stared at him hard, his voice soft. "In Merlin's name, why Harry?"
"The true patronus might be able to save her," he said. "It's not a sure thing, but her chances will be far greater if her brain is intact."
After a half beat of silence, Remus stood.
"I will tell Mad Eye," he said. "I can instruct him in exactly how to preserve her body, for twenty-four hours at least. I will be back."
Remus left quickly, and Hermione grasped Harry's hand. "You still can't do a Patronus?"
"No, but one of us better be able to by tomorrow," said Harry. "At the very least, we bought ourselves some time."
She nodded, squeezing his hand. As their fingers intertwined, a ringing sound filled her ears.
"Harry," she said, frowning. "Do you hear that?"
"What?" he said, but his voice sounded far away. "Hermione! The Ministry it's-"
Suddenly, a jet of fire shot through her body, blazing in her temples. She screamed, the pain blinding away all reason. The door swung open, Kingsley running towards them.
A force threw them backwards, causing Harry to collapse against her as a blinding, white light consumed them.
And then Hermione felt herself falling.
###
Harry fell flat on his back, Hermione collapsing on top of him. After a few moments of blinding pain, Harry blacked out.
When he came to again, he felt the pinch of brambles against his arm, his back and arms damp and itchy. Something sharp pressed against his thigh.
Ignoring the pain, he lay motionless, his body sagging into the cool earth. He stared up at the dark sky, the stars and a pale moon staring back at him.
After a few moments, Hermione rolled over. "Harry? Are you okay?"
With a groan, Harry sat up, brushing brambles off his arm. He did a brief check. "Well…physically, everything seems in order. Better than I would expect after falling out of the sky, or whatever happened." His gaze examined her. "How about you?"
Hermione was sitting too, her blouse stained with grass by the fall. "I'm fine. Actually, I'm…better than before. I feel like I can finally think clearly, after yesterday."
Harry frowned. It worried him greatly that she kept having migraines and other mental abnormalities. While her brain was better guarded than most humans, it was still her one vulnerability. It was the one part of her that, if it was ever damaged beyond its ability to regenerate, might never reform again.
They climbed to their feet, Harry watching Hermione a little longer than necessary. Then, he turned to examine their surroundings.
On all sides, giant walls of green hedges rose high into the air. They created a solid path before them that curved off at an intersection, both sides disappearing into dark shadow.
"What is this place?" asked Harry, scanning the area for clues.
Hermione peered up at the hedges, frowning. "It looks like the maze for the third task, but…that doesn't make sense. The tournament preparations were abandoned a month ago. And even if a maze were constructed, it would have been on the Quidditch pitch, not wherever this is."
"Or whenever," said Harry. "Though let's not dwell on that possibility. We need to focus on getting out of here."
He was just about to do a flight inspection when he heard a twig snap behind him. He turned around, but there was nothing but the wind shaking the hedges, rustling the shadows along the path.
Goosebumps prickled along his arm. Harry couldn't explain why—perhaps it was merely an overexcited amygdala—but he had the sense they were being watched.
"Well," said Harry, voice hushed. "I don't know about you, but I'm ready to go."
He got out his three seater broom, and Hermione hopped on, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He smirked. "Don't worry, if collapsing through space time didn't kill you, I'm pretty sure flying won't."
"You don't know that," she muttered, "Just go."
Harry kicked off, but the broom entirely failed to launch. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he tried again with his single seater broom, and finally using his own flight abilities.
It was no use. They were grounded.
"Well then," said Harry, putting away his broom. "Looks like we can't fly. Let's try walking for the exit."
Harry led them back in one direction, and about a minute later they glimpsed their way out. They came to a sudden halt just beside the entrance, staring at the trees and their freedom for an entire ten seconds without speaking.
"I…can't move," said Harry tightly.
"Me neither," said Hermione, voice strained. "And I'm giving it all I've got."
They stepped back, shifted to another spot, tried again. But no matter how they struggled, they couldn't even nudge a toe past the entrance line.
Exhausted and weary from exertion, the two sank to the ground along an inner wall.
"Alright," said Harry, breathing hard, as much from fear as from exertion. "Umm…we've tried going up and across. How about going under? This trap system seems well-built, but even a competent designer could forget to set up a defence against underground tunnels. I could transfigure a shovel for both of us within ten minutes. We'll just have to be careful not to disturb the roots, in case they're pressure sensitive."
"Okay," said Hermione, her troubled expression showing she wasn't convinced. Harry considered it a long shot too, but he couldn't just sit there and do nothing.
"Hermione," he said as he worked. "Do you know anything about the plans for the third task?"
She blinked, then shook her head. "Nothing concrete. We were split between making it an obstacle course—such as including boggarts and blast-ended skrewts—or making it a pure logic puzzle. If the maze were a puzzle, the champions would search for map pieces, along with hidden clues to answer riddles. Some people suggested it would be less fun to watch than a firefight with skrewts. But I wasn't there to decide which—"
There was a cry, somewhere deep within the maze, and unmistakably human. Harry and Hermione clamoured to their feet, drawing their wands.
While searching for signs of danger, Harry was doing a mental inventory. Before leaving Hogwarts, he'd placed a small arsenal of magical items in his pouch, just in case he would need them, and he was thankful he'd done so. He'd need to ask Hermione what she'd brought as well, maybe they could blast their way out of this maze.
The hair on the back of his neck rose as the pressure built, and he felt a sense of long fingers running down his spine. He heard Hermione gasp, and he gripped his wand.
Around them, the maze wall pulsed, like a beating heart, and then grew inward, the two walls collapsing.
They ran, as the hedge licked at their heels. It encroached on them quickly, eating their pathway faster than they could run. Harry stumbled, vines catching his leg, and he felt himself being sucked in.
Then suddenly, he was in Hermione's arms, lifted up princess style. Before he could react, they shot forward like a cannonball. Harry's chest caved inward under the force, expanding with a wheeze and cough when she set him down.
Hermione knelt beside him, hands hovering near his shoulders. "Are you okay?"
He shook his head, coughing. "I'll be…fine."
She sat back, letting him breath, flinching at every rustle of leaves. When he stopped seeing stars, Harry opened his bleary eyes to look around. They'd passed a fork in the road, which opened five new paths for them to take.
He also saw a shiny, blue mailbox with the word "Clue" on it.
"Well," said Harry, coughing the hoarseness from his throat. "Maybe that will explain some things."
Harry stood up and hobbled across the grass to the mailbox, Hermione by his side. He opened it and took out the first clue.
Look up. What do you see?
Harry glanced up, but didn't see anything except the twilight sky. He tried a few more strategies to parse out the riddle, in a manner that a Triwizard champion might be asked to do, but he was drawing blanks.
"Hang on," said Hermione, pointing at the moon. "What's that?"
Harry squinted—he really did need to get his glasses updated—and noticed two cracks stretching across the moon.
Wait, not cracks—lines. Like the hands of a clock.
"It looks like someone printed a Tempus spell on the moon," said Hermione. "I think it's a timer counting down."
"Oh. Was that supposed to be in the maze?" asked Harry.
"I…don't know," said Hermione, biting her lip. "But now it makes sense why the hedge walls are collapsing. It's a time constraint. If we can't find the exit within the time limit, then we'll be eaten by the maze. Normally, an Auror would come to rescue a fallen champion, but I don't think there's anyone coming for us."
The hour struck, and the moon chimed a mournful tone. Harry stood completely still, prepared to bolt if the hedges betrayed them again.
"You know," said Harry, once the immediate danger passed. "Timed challenges, intricate puzzles, a place you can't leave until you complete the level. It almost feels like…"
They stopped, turning to each other, understanding dawning in their eyes.
"The Hogwarts quests," said Hermione softly.
"It's eerily similar, isn't it?" said Harry. "And, you know, that would explain why this maze exists. It's a temporary construct created by the quest master, an illusion so we can play the game." The longer Harry spoke, the more it made sense. "We could actually be in the middle of London right now."
Hermione's brow furrowed. "I mean…I suppose it's possible that the time artefact generated enough energy to create this place, but why would…space time or whatever…send us on a quest?"
"I don't know," said Harry, staring at the clue paper. "But I guess we're going to find out."
###
Wednesday, 2:15 am.
Minerva was wide awake in her office when the second Floo fire call came in.
No one in the castle slept that night. The attack on the Ministry was a shock wave spreading over Magical Europe, sending parents and students into a panic over the safety of their loved ones. But then, something even more unthinkable happened: the entire city of London ceased to exist. A Patronus sent to contact anyone in the city would come back empty handed, and a broom flying overhead would find nothing besides a bare patch of earth.
The entire world was stunned and terrified. This level of destruction wasn't a thing that happened, at least not since the days of Merlin, which meant they had no idea how to fix it, or even if that was possible.
But that didn't mean she wouldn't try to figure it out.
Minerva had massive piles of research on prophecy, stretching back from the time of Voldemort, when she worked with the Order of the Phoenix to predict Voldemort's moves. She also had a decent stockpile of recent collected prophecies, which she'd found through the support of Remus and others working in the Ministry. Not only that, but she had an entire library of books on pocket dimensions, concealment magic and time travel theory from the Restricted Section.
So Minerva, Filius, and Septima sat in her office, sifting through piles of research when Sybill entered the room. She carried several vials of white mist, her face pale and drawn. "Minerva, I brought what I could from Lavender's memories."
"Thank you," said Minerva, gently taking the bottles. "Come, sit with us. There is much to do, and we need your help."
As the professors worked, the fireplace blazed up in green sparks.
"Alastor?" asked Flitwick, leaping off his chair to peer at the flames, Minerva and Trelawney following close behind. They'd been waiting for his call for over twenty minutes, ever since he'd told them about London. He'd left them with the awful news that Tonks was dead.
But the fire died, and as they stared at it, something on the Headmaster's magical wall of items started beeping.
Minerva crossed the room to her shelf, pushing the items around until she found the offending item. Another of Dumbledore's magical artifacts acting up again. She was tempted to smash it against the stone, rather than silencing it like usual.
But when she pulled out the item, an unfamiliar face appeared: young, thin and wearing square glasses. "Hello? Is this Hogwarts?"
"Yes," said Minerva warily. "Who are you?"
"Harold Shacklebolt," said the face. "I worked at the Ministry, and I'm calling you from St. Mungos."
Minerva took in a sharp breath, her heart leaping into her chest.
"You're alive?" said Flitwick. "Thank Merlin! Is everyone alright?"
"That's what I want to talk to you all about," said Harold. "Harry and Hermione have gone missing, and Luna Lovegood wrote some prophecies describing why that's happening. We're having trouble deciphering them correctly, but Remus told me that Hogwarts has a seer and an arithmancer?"
"We do," said Minerva. "But we also have a collection of prophecies we are sifting through."
"You do?" asked the man, blinking. "Great! Can you help us? We're trying not to die over here."
Minerva blinked, realized the man completely missed her meaning. It was very difficult to decipher the meaning of prophecy, as most of them were shattered shards of information, useless to anyone unless they were placed in the right pattern, or seen from the right context. This young man wouldn't be able to do better than…
She stopped, setting her jaw. Then, she marched over to the table, bringing the globe with her. "Tell me what you've found so far. We'll figure this out together."
"Okay, good. Well, first of all," said Harold, and she heard papers shuffling. "Do you have anything in your prophecies about a maze?"
