Chapter 70: Time's River Unbending

Perenelle gazed at the Mirror of Erised, its pristine surface marred by a layer of ashes from the dead, not to mention the old buffoon squatting inside.

The mirror was one of the few artifacts of the Ancients she'd been unable to retrieve. Due to some prophecy she'd been unfortunate enough to hear, she'd been forced to hand it over to Dumbledore for protection, and he'd proceeded to utterly fail at stopping Voldemort and the destruction of the world.

Old fool. But every cloud—even the end of the world—had its silver lining.

"I see you can phase objects through walls, now," she said, gathering her tools. "Even ancient mirrors of indescribable power."

"On occasion," he said mildly. "The castle helps. She seems to know where I'm needed."

"Hmm," she mused. "I doubt that. Surely you've read Hogwarts: A History? 'The castle shall bend to the will of its master, pure of heart and strong of will.' I suppose you were its master once, but now...someone else is, isn't he?"

There was a significant pause. "Perhaps, but the castle is sentimental, isn't she? And I did ask very nicely."

"Well, I don't think she'll be helping you anymore," said Perenelle briskly. "Your lovely castle belongs to me now, and I'm doing some redecorating. Always hated those staircases. Too bad you can't see it."

Perenelle went on with her activity, humming softly. Not long now.

"Tell me, how many people had to die to fund this 'redecorating?'" asked Dumbledore. "The world is perilously close to ending. Couldn't wait a few more hours?"

"Oh please, my minions weren't exactly paragons of humanity. If anything I did this world a favour. But let me cut to the chase. I know you've been interfering with the prophecies for years, trying to weave them into whatever outcome you think is best. I know you're meddling right now, and I'd prefer that your scheme—whatever it is—does not hinder my plans."

"Me? What can I do, stuck here in a mirror?"

"Not much, there's no way to reverse your corporeal displacement outside the timeline. Not without killing you, anyway."

"I figured as much."

"However, against all odds, you're still able to communicate with people outside the mirror realm, at least temporarily. I'm not stupid, I know how difficult that is. So I'll ask you to kindly stay out of my business and not meddle." She worked silently for a few seconds. "Although...perhaps we could help each other out. You seem to be quite curious what my plans are. I might be convinced to reveal a few things if you'll answer three questions."

"Ahh. How generous."

"The first:" she said. "Where is the Stone of Immortality? The second: What do you know about the Source of Magic?"

"And the third?"

"I'm saving that one until you answer these questions. Fifteen galleons says you won't."

A heavy sigh. "More games, Perenelle?"

"Pot calling the kettle black, don't you think? We're all about to die anyway, so we might as well have some fun. Or we could go back to insulting each other, I'm fine with that too."

There was a long moment of tense silence.

"Perhaps I've given you the wrong impression. It's true I can be whimsical, but I have a Gryffindor's sense of justice, and I have no desire to have a tête-à-tête with you. You've spent the last year plotting how to destroy our country, snuffed out thousands of innocent lives. You, who were part of an ancient race bound to protect the Earth."

"Oh, spare me the sanctimonious preaching," she said, abandoning any attempt at levity. "Everything I did complied with my damned vow. The Stone of Immortality had disappeared, an artefact that had almost destroyed the Ancients. Do you really think I could leave that in the hands of lesser men? I knew it was either hidden in the Ministry or in Hogwarts, so I had every right to assemble an army, take back the Stone and save the world."

"Yes, of course, right around when the world is ending seems like a good time to start a war."

She felt hot around her collar. "Well, I took precautions there too, even though I did not want to. I ordered my followers to focus on property damage, and not to harm anyone while they spied for me. They didn't always listen, and some mishaps occurred, but believe me, I was a moderating force on my band of monsters. I even stopped their childish propaganda campaign against Harry Potter, just in case it would...oh, I don't know, cause him to destroy the world again."

"I saw the newspapers," said Dumbledore. "Those monsters, as you call them, thought you a hero. So, once you knew the world was ending in spite of your best efforts, you decided to hell with it and destroyed London?"

She shook her head, knowing he couldn't see, but didn't care. "No. I heard another prophecy. The world would be destroyed again by a Choice, and I suspected it might be mine, because it would happen when I broke my vow." She sighed, picking at some dust beneath her nails. "As soon as I learned this, my vow forced me to give up my role as the Priestess. All my knowledge, possessions and power immediately passed to my successor, Draco." She paused. "Well, as long as he took the same vow that bound me, otherwise I guess all the knowledge of the Ancients is lost forever."

"I see. So...did you do it? Find a way to break your vow?"

Perenelle paused, considering her answer. She hadn't broken the vow entirely, but she had bent it. She hoped that would be enough, but either way...she didn't want Dumbledore to know.

"Some prophecies come true, and some don't," she said. "What's done is done. Perhaps Draco will be up to the task of saving the world, if that's possible. After all, I took great pains to prepare him for the battle."

Dumbledore actually snorted. "Is that how you rationalize it to yourself? You took a troubled young boy with an immense desire to prove himself, and you poisoned him. You made him a monster, filled him with rage, and then set him against his worst enemy. What did you think would happen?"

"Harry would die, obviously. The price must be paid. You've heard the prophecy, have you not? Three will enter, and one will rise to power."

"Ahh, the ritual prophecy. I like to believe there are alternate interpretations. You are inexcusably naive, if you truly think hatred and violence can save the world."

"And you are naive if you think the world has anything else to offer. You know what kind of ritual we are dealing with. Sacrifices must be made, one way or the other. It's either those three children—and probably London—or else time will destroy us all."

She sprinkled something in a circle. The air around them had the faintest trace of electricity. Keep him talking.

"What of your own pawn, Dumbledore? Did you prepare him well to defeat mine?"

"Children are not pawns, and no, I did not train him to defeat Draco.

"Then he is already lost. Face it, old man, there's nothing more we can do. We both sent those children to their deaths, and they are weak because the world is weak. All the magic of Hogwarts can't fix what doesn't want to be saved, and now it can't save anyone at all."

"Be that as it may," said Dumbledore. "None of what you have said so far explains why you're here right now."

"That is true, but you still haven't answered my questions."

There was another long moment of silence, as she continued her work.

"Very well," he said. "I will answer."

###

Hermione could remember only pain, and when she awoke, her body expected more pain.

Instead, she saw a flash of green light, and Harry falling at her feet. Standing in his place was Draco, wand drawn, regarding her with a scowl of grim intent.

In a panic, her mind registered wands with pain, and she grasped at anything that could stop it. She saw Harry's wand, grabbed it. "Expelliarmus!"

Draco's wand flew from his hand, and she grabbed Harry under one arm and ran.

The path before her was dark and riddled with traps. The sky was a giant dome of endless night, and the grass squeaked like rubber as she ran.

Instinct alone kept her running and dodging, barely evading the green curses that whizzed past her. An Acromantula barrelled towards her side, and she ducked around it, a false step tearing her robes as she ran. Each step felt slow, plodding. She'd never felt this weak in her life. Hermione was just picking up speed when she saw the darkness before her turn into a hard wall.

She tumbled to the ground as she came to a stop, her back slamming into the barrier. Her side took the worst of the damage, but as she dropped to the grass, her arms cradled Harry as she desperately tried to shield him.

Behind her, the enemies stopped, staring at the barrier, for some reason ignoring her. Hermione lowered Harry to the ground behind a rock, examining him with frantic attention. He doesn't look injured, but he isn't waking up either...

Her heart dropped into her stomach, and she reached behind her to grab his wand to cast a healing spell, but felt a jagged break in the wood. It had snapped in half.

Hearing a screech, she glanced up, sighting an Acromantula several paces away, smashing over tombstones as he thundered towards her. He'd be on her in seconds. She had to think fast.

Hermione searched the ground, but there weren't even any rocks to throw. Even if she had a non-magical weapon, it wouldn't slow them down.

Wandless magic?

She stared at her hand, which trembled with exhaustion. It was…possible. But she'd need more than just the ability to weakly levitate pillows. She needed power, and a lot of it.

Hermione didn't know if this was a good idea, or if it even stood a chance of working, but…

She placed a hand over her heart, felt for the warmth of her magic inside her.

"Potestas Imprimas!"

###

Draco audibly gasped as Hermione struck the barrier that trapped them.

He'd planned for everything, but not for something as reckless and stupid as that. Even Bellatrix had stayed the hell away from that barrier. Damn Muggleborns!

But he didn't have time to be properly terrified, as he knew Hermione was about to make another desperate move. She knew now there was nowhere to run or hide, so they'd have to fight.

She's lost most of her strength, and she'll only weaken with time. I just have to outlast her...

After a brief search, one of the Acromantula screeched and peeled away from his twin, running into the rocky distance. There were a few seconds of silence, then Draco heard the sound of legs cracking, the great beast falling. Moments later, the spider guarding them toppled over, burning and squealing like a pig. He could swear he heard Hermione cackling as she danced away from the flames.

Bellatrix whirled around, firing at the disturbed ground where Hermione passed, but she was moving so quickly that neither of them could get a lock on her. Draco gripped his wand, his mind reeling. How in the holy hell was this happening?

Unless…of course. She'd used the spell of power. And now, he had no choice but to follow suit.

"Where are you, you little—" he heard a crack and Bellatrix fell backwards, lying on the ground unmoving.

Trembling with anger and fear, Draco placed his wand to his chest. To hell with the plans then.

"Potestas Imprimas!"

###

The spell of power was pure fire, and where it burned it gave clarity and madness.

Hermione hadn't wanted to kill, but under the sway of the enchantment, she not only saw the necessity, she saw the justice of it. Like a knight of old cutting down heathens.

Killing the Acromantula was easy. Bellatrix got in a few swings, but it was like a minnow against a shark. Circling her silently, Hermione waited until Bellatrix was facing the opposite direction. Then, with a sharp jerk, she threw a punch that made Bellatrix's neck snap and twist.

One enemy left. Her brain flew through all her options, patterns pinging and connecting as she developed a strategy to kill.

But Draco had his own plan.

"Potestas Imprimas! You want a fight, you'll get one, witch!"

His glare of rage was wild as dark energy built around him like thunderclouds.

Hermione screamed a spell, feeling it surge from her palm as he fired his own.

Their spells met, and a great boom of energy left a crater where the ground should be, dirt flying high and evaporating in the air. Hermione buckled against the strain of holding the spell against him, and at each onward press he matched her, then outpaced her, his hot cyan spell overpowering her red one.

Her strength was fading.

Was it supposed to happen this fast? Shouldn't he be weakening too? It didn't seem like it. In desperation, she cast about for another plan. Using the spell of power again might kill her, or drive her to madness. But if she had no other option…

As she debated, Hermione's encyclopaedic memory cycled through the common spells that had a blue hue. There were a handful that were powerful enough to kill, but most blasting curses were yellow...then again, wasn't a blue flame just a hotter version of yellow?

A plan began to form in her mind. Could it be a red-yellow spell? There was one dark hex that was orange, quite popularly taught in Durmstrang battle magic. If she knew the incantation, she might be able to break it, turn it against him. Razrušavam?

As more of the power cleared her mind, a feeling of dread settled over her heart. It was difficult to corrupt another curse this way, but if by some miracle it worked, it would be extremely volatile.

"Draco!" she cried. "Stop this now!"

He screamed some curse she couldn't make out, and his spell increased in power, passing the midway point as her energy waned.

Hermione felt the weight of the moment settle on her, the realization of what she had to do, before she gathered the strength and focus within her. "RazrušaVEK!"

Even with all her power, Hermione wasn't sure she was strong enough for this. But unicorns were lucky, and trolls were powerful. The spell flew down to Draco's wand and exploded.

He screamed as his hand burned and blackened, his face contorting in agony. Hermione watched as he writhed on the withered grass, clutching his burned eye with his remaining hand.

Wandlessly, she conjured a rope, binding him hand and foot. His hands contorted in a spasm, and he let out an involuntary cry. The black stump was ugly and weeping.

Then, Hermione emptied his pockets. She found a few strange trinkets along with Mad Eye's eye and a silver ring, which had a jagged crack running through it. She stared at it for a long moment before it crumbled into dust.

It's…fake?

Draco stared in shock, a look of despair crossing his face. Then he scoffed and turned away. "Gemelio. Figures."

After she'd secured the perimeter, Hermione walked back to the tombstone where she'd left Harry. He lay there, just as he had been before, eyes closed and unmoving.

She touched his wrist, his cheek. They were cold.

Her head spun, and she felt her throat tighten, her body shaking. But strangely, she didn't cry. Maybe she was just in shock, but the whole experience felt unreal. The fight with Draco and Bellatrix felt staged, even the grass beneath her feet felt like it was made of astroturf. She grasped the headstone beside her, raising herself up to look around.

A few feet away lay Bellatrix, her arms and legs sprawled across the grass. Her eyes were bloodshot, her neck bruised and purple.

Hermione felt nothing looking at her, neither guilt nor triumph. She bent down and pried the wand from her hand, pocketing it.

She stared up at the crackling sky, the electricity arcing strangely around them. It seemed angrier now than before, though perhaps she'd been too busy fighting for her life to notice.

What was this place?

She needed to get out of here, but she had no idea where 'here' was. Her attempt at escape before had been blocked by…something. It felt like a huge, solid wall, but she couldn't see anything like that within a mile of here. She needed answers, and there was only one person here who might have them.

Turning around, she walked to within a few paces of Draco. Casting a spell, she released the binding on his mouth.

Draco coughed hoarsely, groaning from the effort. Hermione stared at him, waiting until his eyes found hers again.

"I could have bound you as you did me," said Hermione. "But I know you aren't a threat to me anymore. You're alone and I have your wand, your broken ring, everything. Start talking. Where are we?"

"We seem to be in a small graveyard near Hogsmeade. But I think when are we might be the more pertinent question. And that, I honestly don't know."

"How do we get out?"

"That's simple. You need to kill me. But you'd better hurry up. The moon is rising."

She stood there, absorbing this information. "Why?"

"The ritual commands it. 'Three shall enter, and one shall rise to power.' You, Harry and I are the three. And I killed Harry, so that just leaves us."

She might have wondered about Bellatrix not being included in that grouping, but all she could focus on was the fact that Draco just confirmed that he'd murdered Harry.

It hit her then, like a ton of bricks. He was gone.

She felt every particle of her being crying out, her body tensing up as if having a seizure, and yet she did not scream.

Her vision blurred as sadness, rage and pain fought for dominance. "You killed him…to fulfil a prophecy?"

Draco didn't give any sign of assent, just stared at her.

Something clicked into place. "You killed Tonks and Luna. Lavender and Romilda. Everyone in London."

His mask of indifference slipped for a moment, and she saw pain flash across his features. Then his gaze shifted to a spot behind her. "I gave the order. Yes."

Her eyes saw red. Everything was pain, and wrongness. Hermione pressed Draco's wand against his chest. He startled a moment, then gazed into her eyes with a kind of solemn resignation, his chin raised with a defiant glare.

"So many people," unbidden, tears filled her eyes. "Just…why?"

The blond haired boy gazed at her, his blue eyes examining her as if seeking the answer to a riddle.

Then, in a drawling, casual tone, "Since when does a Malfoy need to explain himself?"

She squeezed her fists as a flush of heat coursed through her body, a riot electrifying her skin.

"Crucio."

He gasped in pain, his eyes rolling back in his head. It lasted only a moment, the spell feeling wrong with Draco's wand.

She gripped him by the front of his robes, her body shaking. The storm of anger raged within her, condemning him to die. He was nothing in her hands, and he would suffer as Harry had suffered, as everyone else he killed.

Draco did nothing to stop her. He didn't fight or plead for his life. He simply waited for his fate, as if he didn't care one way or the other.

It occurred to her, in the back of her mind, that something about this didn't make sense. She didn't want to execute him, but she couldn't let him destroy her either.

She felt like, no matter what choice she made, she was somebody's pawn.

With a cry, she threw Draco on the ground. Then she cast trap spell after trap spell: sticky hands encircled him, a pit of quicksand opened up beneath him, and he was encased on fifteen different types of rope.

"Stay!" she barked, and stalked to the edge of the enclosure. As she got closer, she saw it, the mile high wall of sheer metal.

She raised the wand.

"No!" he shouted. "Stop—"

"Confrigo!" she cried, and struck the barrier.

###

"The Stone is with me," said Dumbledore. "Along with the Elder Wand, and other artefacts. Would you like me to name them?"

She debated for a moment. "Are they Ancient?"

"No."

"Then I don't care," she said. "As long as they're not in the hands of someone who can cause me trouble. Who gave you these items?"

"Their owner. What shape are you drawing?"

"It starts with p, and ends with gram."

"A pentagram," said Dumbledore. "You're performing a ritual, then. Is it insurance, in case the world is not destroyed to your satisfaction?"

"No."

"Protection? Though there is nothing that can protect you for long, if the world has ended."

"Answer my second question, Dumbledore. What do you know of the Source of Magic?"

"No more than you, I wager. It is the crowning achievement of the Ancients. When they lived on Earth, they discovered the existence of magic, a force that would give them the power of gods. They invented the Source of Magic to help them to wield it, placed their creation outside the reach of the rest of humanity, and built their castle in the sky. They also invented a connection to the Source that they carried in their bodies. The rules of magic were created by the Ancients, then modified in the clumsiest of fashions by wizards throughout the ages. None of them have any real control over the Source, though. They have been locked out since before the time of Merlin."

She knew all this already, and he knew that. The air around them pulsed with energy, a zing that sparked against her skin.

"Let me be more specific, then. How do I access the Source of Magic to change the rules?"

"Win the game."

"What game?"

Dumbledore was silent.

"Well?"

"I would tell you," he said. "But I think you need to be invited in order to play, and I'm pretty sure you've been judged unworthy."

She scoffed, fighting back the impulse to throw a ball of energy against the mirror. "Unbelievable. You are just like Merlin, and I have always hated you for it."

Dumbledore remained silent, and she let her anger settle into the air. Merlin was gone, and soon this prison he'd trapped her in would be too.

Perenelle walked forward slowly. "You've chosen your tomb well, Albus. You will never die now, even when all the rest of us do. You alone will sit among the ashes of this world, mourning their loss long after the last human's remains return to the stars. You will not go mad right away, but once you realize you only have the emptiness of space for company…well, eternity is a lot longer than you think."

She listened to his silence as the dark shadow of his figure paced across the mirror's edge.

"Unless…" she said. "You weren't alone. If you had friends not just on this side of the mirror…but the other." Her eyes glittered. "I suspected it, as soon as I learned you were free of the time barrier. No one could manage that without help. It could have been Harry who did it, but…no, he is just a boy. He does not know the ancient rituals, and neither do you. No, I'm sure of it: you found them. My people."

His voice remained infuriatingly mild. "Has it occurred to you that you don't know if I know anything? This could all be a waste of time. You'll never know unless you look into my eyes."

She pressed her palms against the mirror, leaving the faintest of cracks in the frame.

"The world is ending, Dumbledore. I cannot stop it, and neither can you. But if you help me willingly, then I will take you with me to the next world. If they are as advanced as they say they are, then we could bring her back. Your sister, your brother, and everyone you've lost."

"Take me with you?" he asked. "My dear, you just compared me to your worst enemy, I'm sure you could find a more engaging travel companion. Besides, just how will you obtain enough energy to travel corporally through the stars?"

"I already have it. You need only say the word."

There was the slightest of pauses.

"A lovely proposition," he said. "But all things considered, I'd rather go into oblivion alone than travel the stars with you."

Then, it happened.

The electric buzz of energy, zipping through the air, as if lightning were about to strike, then the thrust of gravity flipping upside down.

She smiled, her grin rapidly building to manic intensity.

"Say that again to my face, Dumbledore," she said, removing the ring from her pocket. With a small incantation, she wiped the mirror clean. "Tell me where to find the Ancients!"

###

Outside the castle, Neville and Daphne were being electrocuted.

It only lasted for a few seconds at a time, but it was excruciating. Neville's muscles clenched, his nerves burned, and he couldn't even move to get away. His body locked up, so tightly he couldn't even scream.

After awhile, he could have sworn that the sparks were flying off him into the surrounding air, the electric acid in his body clouding his eyes.

As suddenly as it started, the torture stopped. For several seconds, there was nothing except the sound of his own laboured breathing. Neville crawled towards safety, Daphne dragging herself behind him. Thunder rolled above them, and they looked up to see lightning cascading across the sky, as if it was being tortured in their place.

They heard a cry, and saw their attacker raise his wand, his hand shaking as if rebelling against him.

"P-petrificus totalus."

###

In London, Harold and his team reached out for any last minute way to save themselves. Or even to make the passing easier. Anything was worse than doing nothing.

"Did you translate all of it?" asked Remus, turning to Harold.

"Most of it," he said. "But it makes no sense. After Hermione and Draco attack each other, it's just chaos. Like the painting is unfinished, or constantly being painted over. It's useless."

"And nothing about us is in there?" asked Madam Bones. "Or Hogwarts?"

He shook his head. "All I have left that's untranslated is this blank page, but I think that got stuck here by mistake." He slumped back in his chair. "I don't know...what to do now."

Outside, they heard another clap of thunder, closer this time. Harold rubbed his forehead, his hand slick with sweat. Kingsley walked to the window and looked out. "The storm is getting worse. It won't be much longer now."

Harold stared at the electric sky, its angry, jagged lines stretching across the city.

Time's river unbending

Dooms the world to its ending

A ritual of destruction

Her bindings must be

Harold frowned, thinking of everything they'd done to stop this apocalypse from happening. The sleepless nights and endless searching. Was it all for nothing?

For the one to save the world

Will surely destroy it

Unless this ritual is kept

And bound by founder's merit

He pondered these last words of Luna's prophecy, sensing something important there. Usually, with longer prophecies, the first and last lines were the ones you really needed to pay attention to. But try as he might, the words remained opaque. Founders merit…replacing the binding of destruction? But how?

"Wait—Harold!" said Kingsley. "On the white paper, I see something!"

They all surrounded him on the table, almost blocking out the light as the image came into focus.

"It...can't be…" said Remus.

"But what does this mean?" asked Harold.

They all stared at each other, unsure what to say.

Outside, the thunder cracked and boomed.