Chapter 5 - Love is Stronger than Time

Liv was free to wander around the Castle of the Everlasting Frost, and she did so plenty after her long shifts in the castle kitchen, which left her with calluses but also a pleasant feeling of usefulness. Only the tower where their king lived and a dark cave at the edge of the castle were off-limits to all living creatures except him.

Their exalted ruler himself was not seen by Liv until a ceremony in the throne room at the change of the year. And the moment she saw him for the first time, in his purple robe, more precious than the entire village she had grown up in, with his other-worldly, snow-white skin and eyes like stars, she fell under Santa Claus' spell. Her little heart was seized by a love that threatened to consume her and filled her with dark despair. For how could he, a magician, a force of nature, a god among mortals, ever return the feelings of a pathetic peasant girl like her? He was like the sun, whose warmth you desired but whose sight seared your eyes.

And so Liv had to content herself with watching her king from afar. Everything in her cried out to get closer to him, but her mind still held the upper hand.

That was, until the one moment that would change her life and the lives of her descendants forever. For one evening, Liv had been in the castle for a little less than a year, she saw her king stride across the castle courtyard and disappear into the dark cave. Liv knew she wasn't allowed to, that it was forbidden with the threat of death, but her steps led her to the cave entrance as if carried by a higher power. Santa Claus had looked sad, troubled, when he had disappeared into the cave. She wanted to be there for him, to carry his sorrows with him.

But as Liv stared into the darkness, she began to shiver, more than ever before in this new world. She wrapped her scarf tightly around her face, but still she shivered, and her nose and ears ached with cold. An icy breath came straight from her ruler's secret place, a place of terrible seduction.

And Liv fell into the seduction.

She descended the steps, the path before her only dimly lit by a few candles. The fitful flickering revealed smooth stone surfaces and a vaulted roof. At the foot of the stairs, a chamber opened, its floor not of earth, rock, or wood, but of sudden, dark ice. Cold, colder than the frost on the hawthorn in the morning, colder than the sharp wind that brushed across the mountains, colder than the kiss of a dead man's lips.

Liv's eyes went black. Just before she hit the ground, she felt strong arms grab her. Then there was nothing.


It was shortly before eleven o'clock when Harry and Daphne appeared at the Apparition point in Diagon Alley. At the sight of the familiar street that held so many fond memories for him – it had, after all, been his first real contact with the wizarding world – Harry felt a sudden bliss. Although thirty-seven years had passed since his last visit and some of the shop fronts had changed, the alley still pulsated with magic, awe, and a sense of wonder. The air was still filled with a joyful buzz of voices. The whole place was simply wonderful, and Harry felt a broad smile take over his face.

His smile died, however, when the first people recognised them. They turned to them, pointed at them, and started whispering loudly. Some of their words got through to them.

"Is that Harry Potter? So he's really back?"

"He looks very different from the books. His statue is more impressive, I must say."

"Is that the Greengrass girl next to him? What's he doing with her? His disappearance was her fault, wasn't it?"

Harry looked to Daphne and whispered, "Don't listen to what they say."

Daphne gave him an unconvincing smile, but said nothing back. Instead she pulled the hood of her cloak up over her face. It seemed a shame to Harry, for now only a few of her long, golden strands stuck out. But he could not blame her. He did likewise and hid his face as well.

The pair set off in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. A few more voices followed them, but just then a loudly chattering group of Italian witches stepped out of a shop for magical toys. Harry and Daphne scurried past them and disappeared into the crowd.

So they reached the Leaky Cauldron without further notice. Harry held the door open for Daphne and stepped behind her into the dark pub, which was sparsely attended at this time of the day. Only a few witches and wizards sat at the tables, and none of them paid any attention to them. The pub looked as if it had been left behind in time, only a few flowers on the tables testified that this was not the case. This, as well as some large crystal mirrors on the walls covered in dust, like the one he had noticed in the Burrow. The Norwegians seemed to be really serious about worldwide distribution. They must have made a mint of money out of it, he supposed.

At a table in the far corner, Harry saw the familiar, albeit older, brown heads of Hermione and Tracey. Daphne and he crossed the room and sat down opposite them. In front of Hermione was a cup of spicy-smelling tea and Tracey's hand held a butterbeer bottle.

Harry's gaze slid over a Daily Prophet lying on the table. A large picture of himself, which must have been taken sometime after the Battle of Hogwarts, was plastered across the front page. Above it was the headline:

Sensation – Harry Potter lives!

Below that were other headlines:

Drought in southern Europe exacerbates water shortage – Muggle governments announce rationing

Greengrass heiress also returned

Yggdrasil's loss of leaves worries scientists – Is the world's richest country facing a natural disaster?

"Bad, isn't it?" said Hermione. "People don't talk about anything else anymore." At her words Tracey gave a disdainful snort and took a gulp from her butterbeer "How are you?" asked Hermione.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Fine."

Daphne shrugged as well, but answered nothing. Instead, she took out her wand and muttered, "Muffliato."

Harry looked at her, instinctively a smile on his lips, thinking back to the night Daphne had visited him in the Burrow and he had shown her the spell. She had been very interested then. And even afterwards she didn't seem to have forgotten that moment.

Daphne returned his gaze, raising an eyebrow. "What? I never forget a spell. Especially one so useful."

Tracey's head snapped up, and she set her butterbeer down with a loud bang. "Oh my god, you guys are doing it!"

"Um," Harry said. "What?"

"Something's been odd since you came in, but I couldn't figure. But that's it! You two are finally playing Hide the Wand."

Harry blinked twice at the Unspeakable, unsure of what to say. He glanced to Daphne for support, but her head was down. Her face had turned bright red and her shoulders were shaking in a mixture of embarrassment and amusement.

"Jesus, Daph," Tracey said with a big grin on her face. "Harry sure took a long time, didn't he? If you'd looked at me like that, I'd have been all over you ages ago."

"Hey!" said Hermione loudly.

Daphne lifted her head and gave her friend an apologetic smile. "Busted," she said, "And congratulations on your relationship with Hermione."

"Oh, you noticed?" said Tracey. "Got a ten-year anniversary coming up, haven't we, love? You're always much better at that sort of thing than I am. Numbers and dates and stuff." She glanced at Hermione.

Hermione shook her head as if she still couldn't believe what had just happened. Harry felt for her.

Tracey continued talking, "Oh, Daph, I'm so happy for you! Love is just always the answer, I knew it. That even makes it easier, and even gives your story the flair of those trashy adventure romances Tori loved to read."

A shadow flitted across Daphne's face at the mention of her sister. Harry took her hand in his and squeezed it lightly, earning him a grateful smile from Daphne and a proud look from Hermione. It seemed he was slowly getting the hang of witches.

Daphne turned back to Tracey. "What do you mean?"

"You remember how we used to dream about uncovering all the mysteries of magic, of love, of time?"

"Yeah, so?"

"We'll send you both back in time!"

Silence spread around the table. Harry looked at Tracey, speechless. Had he heard correctly? Had she just said –

"You want to send us back in time?" asked Daphne in surprise. But then the very slightest bit of hope crept into her voice. "Is ... is that possible?"

"Well, sure," Tracey said with a grin. "We're sort of experts at it."

"I wouldn't necessarily say that," Hermione said cautiously.

Tracey waved it off. "Oh, hush. It worked for Bunny, didn't it?"

"Who is Bunny?" asked Harry.

"Bunny is the animal Tracey used in her experiments," Hermione explained. "And Bunny is the first time-travelling rabbit in history. As far as we know, anyway. But I've looked in all sorts of books."

Daphne eyed Tracey with a look of disbelief. "You named your rabbit Bunny?"

"Perfectly legitimate name," Tracey said. "At least then everyone knows what's up right away. And Bunny was a great bunny. The best I ever had. I miss him."

"What happened to him?" asked Harry, slightly concerned.

"Well, he time-travelled, we assume. We just don't know where, unfortunately."

"He's probably dead," Hermione said.

"Don't say that!" said Tracey indignantly.

Hermione looked at her. "I saw the parameters, honey. They were off the charts. Either Bunny travelled so far into the future that Earth is just a dusty lump of rock in space, or so far into the past that he became a morsel for a T-Rex." Her face took on a thoughtful expression. "That is, if his body manifested at all in the new age and he is not condemned to roam the stream of time for all eternity as a disembodied spirit, forever cursing our name."

"What's a T-Rex?" asked Daphne, ignoring the rest of Hermione's frisson of lost souls and eternal rabbit grudge.

"Big, deadly predator that lived millions of years ago," said Harry. "Little rabbit Bunny wouldn't have stood a chance."

Tracey threw up her arms. "Okay! Bunny's probably dead. We killed Bunny. Happy now?"

"Don't get upset, please," Hermione said gently, reaching for her partner's hand. "We're just kidding. But we've gotten a little off topic. We should tell Harry and Daphne our plan from the beginning."

"Yes, please," Harry said. Daphne nodded in agreement.

At that moment, another familiar person stepped up to their table. Hannah Abbot. Or rather Hannah Longbottom, Harry remembered from what he had learned yesterday. Hannah had aged too, but Harry had no trouble recognising the DA member from back then in the woman in front of them.

Hannah gave them a warm smile as she put down several bottles of butterbeer. "Here are your drinks. Nice to see you again. Harry. And you two make a lovely couple."

Harry followed her gaze to his hand, which still held Daphne's. Daphne's cheeks turned slightly pink, but neither of them made any move to remove their hand.

"I ordered some before you came," Hermione said. "Please help yourselves. And thank you, Hannah. How's Nev?"

"Oh, you know. Too much work and the students get ruder every year. But he loves his job as much as ever."

"I'm glad to hear that," Hermione replied. "Other than that, everything stays at next week Saturday?"

"Of course. Neville and I are looking forward to it."

Hermione beamed at the former Hufflepuff. "Trace and I are too. Aren't we?" She glanced at Tracey.

Tracey looked up. "Oh, yes. Of course. Give my regards to Neville, please, Hannah, will you?"

"Will do. Well, it's been nice meeting you." Hannah nodded at them with a smile, "Harry. Green – er, Daphne."

Harry nodded back. "It was nice to meet you too, Hannah."

Hannah walked away and they were undisturbed again.

Harry grabbed one of the butterbeers she had set out for them and took a deep swig. Then he said, "So, what was that about time travel, painful death, disembodied spirits, and eternal damnation?"

"You're a real joker," Tracey muttered.

"But he's right. What's your plan?" Daphne said.

"For the last few years Tracey has been –," Hermione began before Tracey interrupted her.

"With your support. It's amazing what a Minister for Magic can do for funds."

"With my support, she has done research on magical time travel –"

"Wasn't so easy, by the way, after you destroyed all those Time Turners back in the day!"

Hermione turned to her partner. "Please let me finish, sweetheart." Tracey snorted and Harry suppressed a laugh. "Now, where was I?" continued Hermione. "Oh, right. Tracey was researching magical time travel with her team in the Department of Mysteries. The goal was nothing less than to completely revolutionise the existing approaches. And you've been quite successful, haven't you?"

"Yes. The initial calculations were very promising," Tracey replied, her voice suddenly serious. "In theory, there should be no limits to the possibilities of travelling backwards or forwards in time. After all, time is just another dimension in the realities of our world. Like walking backwards or forwards in a three-dimensional world, or going up or down a mountain."

Daphne leaned forward, a gleam in her eye. "And in practice?" she asked.

"More difficult," Tracey said. "It turns out it needs a fixpoint. An orientation, a guiding star, a coordinate. However you want to put it."

"A lifeline, if you think of time as a raging torrent?" asked Daphne.

Tracey nodded. "Yes. Or a lighthouse in the mist."

"And that was the problem with Bunny?"

"Right. At least, that's what we suspect. We didn't feed him for a day before the experiment, after giving him particularly tasty rabbit food at exactly the same time every morning before that. At least that's what the advertising promised us. We expected that the feeling of hunger and the memory of this tasty food at the same time every day would serve as an incentive to travel back or forward to that time. But apparently we misjudged the neurological activities of rabbits. Or maybe Bunny just wanted to get as far away from us as possible."

At this point, regret had crept into Tracey's voice. She shook herself and continued talking. "Anyway, he's travelled in time, backwards or forwards, our sensor readings have confirmed that clearly. But we don't know where exactly, only that it's very far away in time."

Harry had followed the exchange between the two friends with curiosity, but he was still left with a question. "And what was that about manifestation in a body and disembodied spirit that Hermione was talking about?" he said.

"That's one of our theories we're not sure about yet," Tracey said, looking to Harry and Hermione. "You two have travelled back in time before –"

Daphne's head snapped up to him, but Harry just shook his head slightly. He had given her a rough outline of his adventures, but had left out details like this. Not that he didn't trust her, quite the opposite, but then they would need a lot more time for that. Maybe at some point.

"Later," his lips formed silently. Daphne nodded.

Tracey, meanwhile, continued. "So you know that with the Time Turner you used then, as with all the others that existed then, it was your body that travelled back in time. However, we are not sure about our method. We could imagine that it is not the body, but the consciousness from a certain time layer that travels into the body from another time layer."

"What makes you think that?" asked Daphne.

"Bunny's body disappeared in the experiment," said Tracey. "But we don't know if the body time-travelled or was devoured by the magic of the Time Turner. And after Bunny disappeared, we also became more concerned about the coordinate I brought up. And what is the most powerful magical force in the universe?"

Harry answered without hesitation. "Love."

"Exactly," Tracey confirmed. "And that is true love, which comes from oneself as the manifestation of the self, the soul, you might say. Not just a hormonal reaction of the body, but something deeper. Magic at its deepest."

Harry sat back. His thoughts drifted back to all the moments when he had felt the power of love. His parents who had sacrificed themselves for him and saved him in the process. Then in the graveyard, after Voldemort had returned. And of course when he had gone to the Forbidden Forest to sacrifice himself for his friends. Love was the force that had saved him time and time again. As strange as the notion was and as much as his head ached trying to understand Tracey's words ... they made sense to him. He knew the power of love and its might to make the impossible possible.

"So because the coordinate is something deeper than a physical reaction," Daphne said slowly, "the time-travelling subject should also be something deeper, something other than the body."

Tracey nodded. "Yes, we suspect that at the moment. But you also know what that means?"

"If our coordinate is not strong enough, we will fare as Bunny did. Our spirits will wander forever in the stream of time, restless and aimless. With no hope of ever finding salvation."

The statement was not without its impact on them. Silence reigned around the table for several moments.

"Wow," Harry then said. He was at a loss for words for more.

"Yes, wow," Tracey said.

"It's your choice, of course," Hermione said. "The risks are immense, but we wanted to at least offer you that option."

Harry and Daphne looked at each other, and Harry read the answer in her eyes before she had even opened her mouth. At that moment he felt an affection for her he had never known before. She was brave. So much braver than he would ever have thought possible when they had been strangers to each other.

"Daph, it would be your love for Astoria that we have in mind as the primary coordinate," Tracey's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "And Harry, your love for – um, your love for Daphne could serve as a secondary coordinate to follow. Along with your love for Ron, of course, who you could also save with that." The last sentence she had said very quickly. She bowed her head. "We would do our very best to make it work, but in the end, it would come down to you. It's your decision alone."

Harry felt the blood rush to his head and Daphne's cheeks turned pink as well. But that did not change her determination.

"I'll do it," she said.

Then she looked to him and their eyes met again. Green and blue in a bond that could only grow through shared longing. Her look was almost pleading, insulting Harry's feelings. She ought to know him better by now. He nodded, after which deep relief flitted across her face.

"And I will go with you."


Afterwards, they talked for some time about the details of the plan. Harry and Daphne would come to the Department of Mysteries early the next morning, where Tracey and Hermione would initiate the time travel in utmost secrecy. If all went well, in less than half a day they would be thirty-seven years in the past – Harry didn't want to think too hard about the logic behind that. In the end, it was love, not logic, in which they would place their hopes.

Hermione and Tracey also showed them a spell that had recently become enormously popular and made it possible to learn a language in a very short time. Harry and Daphne didn't hesitate for long, and half an hour later Harry had mastered his first foreign language: Norwegian. In Daphne's case, it was even her third foreign language, as she had already learned French and Greek as a child; due to her father's business contacts, as she told him when he asked. However, a shadow flitted across Daphne's pretty face when she said that, as it did every time she spoke of her father.

After lunch, the group of four split up. Tracey said she had some best friend stuff to discuss with Daphne and pulled the blonde behind her without further ado. To Harry, this made her look like a mother with her daughter; or a headmistress with a naughty pupil. He felt sorry for Daphne. There had to be more pleasant things than being quizzed by Tracey about your love life.

He himself went with Hermione, for they too had things to talk about.

And so it came to pass that the two friends walked side by side through Diagon Alley. Harry had pulled his hood deep into his face so as not to be recognised, so far with success. Hermione, on the other hand, was recognised by numerous people. Time and again someone waved at her as they passed and each time she waved back with a friendly smile. His best friend had truly come a long way from the teenage girl who had often rubbed people the wrong way with her know-it-all attitude and occasional lack of empathy to a seemingly widely respected and even popular Minister for Magic. In any case, he doubted that Fudge or Scrimgeour would have evoked similar reactions during a walk down Diagon Alley, let alone Pius Thicknesse.

"Are you really okay with this plan, Harry?" asked Hermione at one point. "It would be reckless even by your standards."

"Shouldn't I be asking that of you?"

"What do you mean?"

Harry looked at his friend curiously. "If it works and we travel back in time and save Astoria and return to England and all that, then Ron won't feel guilty either..."

At the implication of his words, Hermione looked to the floor. "I've thought about that too," she said softly. "I loved Ron. I still love him. And the moment I lost him was the worst of my life. But ... I love Tracey too. I want to be able to stay with her. On the other hand, my younger self doesn't know anything about the happiness I would have in another future with a Slytherin I didn't know at the time. It's all pretty weird, isn't it?" She gave him an insecure smile.

"It certainly is," Harry said. He didn't know what else to say, and so he didn't.

For some time the two walked on in silence, side by side. They passed Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, which was bustling with people. Harry was happy to see that the joke shop was still providing fun and joy after all these years.

"And what about you?" asked Hermione. "You could also be with Ginny again..."

Harry sighed heavily. "Yes. With the knowledge that without me, she still found a man who made her happy."

"How will you act then?"

"I ... don't know."

And he really didn't. Before the Battle of Hogwarts, he had not dared to entertain any hopes for his future beyond surviving the next few months. Then, after defeating Voldemort, he had begun to dream of a carefree future, and in those dreams, he had had Ginny by his side. But he had found it so difficult to decide on a path in life that he had finally set off on an insane quest to the end of Europe with Daphne, who had been a stranger to him at the time. And recently, the attractive former Slytherin had been clouding his mind, and it wasn't just because she was the one who had taken his virginity. What would happen to them should they return to their time and he would be a taken man again?

"So you're going to rush headlong into another adventure and the thinking will come sometime afterwards?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah, that's what it's going to come down to, I guess," Harry said, giving her a cheeky smile.

Hermione linked arms with him. "Oh Harry, I've missed this. I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, Hermione..."


It was several hours later that Harry returned to Elysium and, as the night before, he found Daphne sitting on the stairs to her family home. In her hands, she held several letters. Only now did it occur to him that he had not previously agreed with Daphne that he would return here for the night. But when Daphne looked up, there was neither surprise nor displeasure in her gaze, as if it were the most normal thing in the world for her to greet him at the doorstep of her house.

Daphne held out the letters. "These came for you."

Harry joined her on the stairs and took the letters from her. Their shoulders touched.

The letters were from friends and acquaintances. Hagrid, McGonagall, Neville, and many more. But it was a letter from Teddy that made Harry's hand tremble. He tore open the letter and skimmed the lines. A melancholy smile crept onto his face. His soul felt heavy at that moment.

"This one is from my godson," he said quietly. "He writes that he'd like to play Quidditch with me sometime. And he'd like to meet me." Harry heaved a sigh. "I probably wasn't the best godfather in the world. I finally understand how Sirius must have felt..."

"Sirius Black?" asked Daphne. She had turned her head towards him and her hair was tickling the skin on his neck.

Harry nodded. "Yes. I haven't told you that much about him, have I?"

"Only that he died in the battle at the Ministry," Daphne said carefully, as if she feared hurting him with her words.

As if words from a loved one could ever hurt him as much as the terrible guilt that had plagued him then. It was only since he had seen Sirius with his parents in the Forbidden Forest, conjured up by the power of the Resurrection Stone, that he slowly began to make his peace with the past.

"And before that, he had been wrongfully imprisoned in Azkaban for twelve years," he said. "Because of his impetuous decision to go after Peter Pettigrew instead of looking after me. I don't think he ever forgave himself for that. And now I've done the same to Teddy."

"Do you regret it?" asked Daphne.

She didn't say it. Do you regret going with me?

Harry shook his head. "No. I regret a lot of things, but I don't regret this."

And he meant it. He didn't regret going with Daphne, getting to know her. But they had to do better this time if tomorrow was to be a success.

"Did you love him?" asked Daphne.

Harry felt his throat tighten at his answer. "Yes, I did."

"Do you ... do you want to go back even further in time? To save him? Or your parents? It would be okay with me, I mean, I can understand if you –"

Harry interrupted her by turning to her and kissing her gently on the forehead. Daphne froze. She looked at him with wide eyes.

"Daphne Greengrass, you are a wonderful person. Never tell yourself otherwise," Harry said. He broke away from her again and turned his gaze to the starry sky, and rarely had the sight of that endless expanse seemed so reconciliatory as it did at that moment. "But no, I don't want to. Hermione and I have talked about it too. I'd like to, save them, I mean, but ... but who knows what would happen then. Would everything end well? What if by some circumstance my decision would lead to Voldemort winning? Above all, I know that my parents and Sirius, and all the others are waiting for me in the afterlife, looking out for me. And so I will resist the temptation. I'll see them again someday, but not yet."

He looked back at Daphne. The moonbeams brushed across her face, making her golden strands shine. She was beautiful in the starlight.

"Am I being selfish? That I can't let Astoria go?" she asked.

Harry squeezed her hand. "I can't let her go either, Daph. We don't belong here. I want to see the real Teddy and Neville and all the others again. The ones I know. This is just a transit station for me. For us. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, Harry. It does for me," Daphne said softly, now squeezing his hand as well.

For a few moments, neither of them said a word, both absorbed in their thoughts. Harry breathed in and out. He felt the cool November evening air flowing through his lungs. It felt pleasant. Peaceful. Coolness, silence, and the stars. And Daphne at his side.

"I received a letter today too," Daphne finally said. "From Scorpius. He apologised if his appearance caught me off guard yesterday. And he would like to meet me again. This time, perhaps, under better conditions. He wrote that I'm the only connection he has left with his mother. He can't even remember her."

At this point Daphne gulped. Harry squeezed her hand again to make her feel that she was not alone in her feelings.

"I understand, Daph," he said. They were the same.

"I also haven't yet come to terms with the idea that Astoria slept with Malfoy," Daphne then said with a contrived shudder.

Harry saw through her attempt to lighten the mood and played along. "Oh yes! I don't want to imagine that either," he said with a laugh, but it was just as contrived as Daphne's. He stopped and gave Daphne a thoughtful look. "How does that make you feel?"

Daphne shrugged her shoulders. "If we succeed, then I'll have plenty of time in our past to get used to it. If I'm going to witness everything from the beginning and not be overwhelmed with marriage and an adult child. Besides, Astoria doesn't give her love away on a whim. She liked you from the beginning, by the way."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Well, I'm glad to hear that, of course."

"And I like you too, Harry," Daphne said, leaning against him. "I'd be lost without you long ago..."

Harry didn't know what to say to that, so he just put his arm around Daphne. That didn't seem to have been such a bad decision, as Daphne snuggled up to him.

The two unlikely companions sat like that for almost an hour, enjoying each other's company and warmth, before even that warmth was no longer a match for the cold that the night brought. Harry rose from the stairs and then helped Daphne up. Even then, however, her hand remained in his as they gazed deeply into each other's eyes.

"Do you want to come in again?" asked Daphne. Her breath formed a cloud in front of her mouth.

Harry felt himself blush. "If you want."

"But tonight we're just sleeping next to each other, Harry. Not..." Daphne faltered.

"...I understand, Daph."


The next morning brought Harry and Daphne very early to the Ministry of Magic. It was so early in the morning, in fact, that the atrium was completely deserted except for them and a visibly bored security wizard; at least if you left out the huge statue in the middle of the atrium, which Harry couldn't look at for more than three seconds before he felt like going bright red with shame. Who the hell had come up with the idea of using emeralds as his eyes? And he would never strike such a pose, he wasn't Gilderoy Lockhart, dammit.

Harry shook his head, trying to concentrate on their mission as they strode through the atrium with echoing footsteps. The time of their visit was not chosen randomly, as it meant they avoided the large number of Ministry witches and wizards who would not be arriving for work until much later.

Just before they reached the security desk, one of the golden lifts opened with a loud clang and Hermione stepped out. She gave them a bright smile.

"Harry, Daphne, there you are," she said joyfully, and Harry had the feeling that she almost managed to cover her nervousness. Then she turned to the security wizard. "I'll take over from here. Thank you, Jenkins."

"Yes, Madam Minister," Jenkins replied, but not without eyeing Daphne's rapier at her hip one last time. It was a good thing he didn't know about the sword soaked in basilisk venom in Harry's bag.

Harry and Daphne followed Hermione to the lifts.

"So, slept well?" she asked.

Harry thought back to the morning when he had woken up with Daphne's arms wrapped around him and his face hidden in her long hair. Although they hadn't had sex the night before and had actually laid in bed more than an arm's length apart, they had still grown closer in their sleep. And Harry had noticed how much he liked it. At that moment he had wondered, not for the first time recently, what would have happened if they had already got to know each other better at Hogwarts. To him, Daphne was like a diamond, whose shine he only noticed now, as it had been covered in dirt before.

When he had sleepily informed Daphne of this, she had only raised an eyebrow and asked, "Did you just call my life dirt, Potter?"

Harry had winced, wide awake from one moment to the next, cursing his idiotic attempt to be poetic. But then Daphne had smiled at him, and all his worries had fallen away.

"Yes," he said. "We slept well."

Then they arrived at the lifts. They stepped into the nearest one, where Hermione pressed the button marked number nine. The grate closed behind them before the lift began to descend, clattering loudly.

After a few seconds, the lift stopped. A cool female voice said " Department of Mysteries" and the grate slid open.

At the sight that awaited them behind it, Harry suddenly felt dizzy. His heart began to pound wildly and he had to force his legs to start moving. In front of them was the plain, black door that had driven him almost to despair during his fifth year at Hogwarts and behind which one of the greatest tragedies of his life had taken place.

"Harry, are you all right?" Daphne's worried voice sounded next to him.

Harry shook his head. "Unpleasant memories."

Daphne took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. She asked no further questions. Harry was grateful for that.

They walked through the black door and the round room beyond with its many doors into a room he didn't know. The room was full of desks with papers and various, small apparatuses made of metal, hardly bigger than a clock. There was ivory on them and a transparent, crystalline substance, and ticking sounds came from the apparatuses, louder and quieter and completely out of tune. Harry pitied the people who had to work here, as he had a headache from the noises after only a few moments.

Passing through the room, they reached a stone chamber beyond, perhaps thirty metres in diameter. The walls of the chamber were bare and there was no furniture in it, except for a strange, metal construction in the middle that made Harry think of a mixture of an oversized crown and a birdcage. The construction consisted of grey iron bars that ran criss-cross and were inscribed all over with runes that said nothing to Harry. Unlike Daphne, however, who stepped up to the construction with quick steps. Curiously, she eyed the runes. She reached out to touch them when suddenly a cutting voice sounded from behind them.

"Just look, don't touch. Unless you want to die a sudden, agonising death."

Harry looked back and saw Tracey step up to them. She was wearing a dark blue robe with a hood, but it was thrown back, allowing a view of Tracey's overtired face. Dark circles were emblazoned under her eyes and her skin was so pale she could pass for Snape's love child. Still, Harry was surprised at how well the robe suited Daphne's best friend and how naturally she moved in it. Tracey, much like Hermione, had accumulated decades of life experiences that had allowed her to grow into a role that had not been foreseeable in his own time.

"That's very impressive magic, Trace," Daphne said in awe. She made no more effort to touch the construction.

"Of course it is. It's mine, after all."

"You're as modest as ever," Hermione said before turning to Harry and Daphne. "But we should get started before the others arrive. Do you know where you want to travel?"

Harry nodded. "To our first night at the ski resort."

It was the perfect point in time. After that, their whole misery had begun, with the Norwegians who hadn't wanted to let them continue their journey, their escape, and the fateful fight against Servant Rupert. Besides, he and Daphne had been together then, so hopefully that would make their time travel together easier.

"Okay," Tracey said. "Are you ready, Daph?"

Daphne straightened her shoulders and gave her friend a determined look. But Harry knew her well enough by now to see how nervous she was.

He reached for her hand. "Together. We'll do this together."

"Together," Daphne said, squeezing his hand.

They followed Tracey's instructions and positioned themselves right in the middle of the metal structure, careful not to touch any of the iron bars. Daphne's mind reached out to his and he let her in, just as he had when they had Apparated to England together. Their feelings mingled in a whirl of hope and fear.

Hermione and Tracey were outside, several paces away. Hermione chewed her lip and her fingers played nervously with her wand. Tracey had also drawn her wand.

"We're about to activate the magic," Tracey said. "Daph, it is of absolute necessity that you focus on your feelings. They will serve as the coordinate for your time travel. And Harry, you must hold Daphne's hand and follow her mind. We don't know how difficult that will be, so do your best. Now is your last chance to turn back, if you wish..."

Tracey's voice echoed in the chamber, but neither Daphne nor he took up the offer. They had made their decision and now they would pay the price, whatever it was.

"We know you can do it!" cried Hermione with tears in her eyes. "Save Astoria and come back to us! We love you!"

"And if you don't, I'll kick your butts in the afterlife," Tracey said.

Harry felt a lump in his throat. He nodded to the two of them, afraid his voice would fail if he tried to speak now.

Daphne placed her right hand on her rapier, and her left continued to be in his. "Do it," she said.

Hermione and Tracey pointed their wands at the iron bars. Then they began to mutter complicated spells, in languages unfamiliar to Harry.

It took a few moments for it to set in. There was a pulling sensation starting deep in his belly. A feeling of weightlessness. A brief moment of overwhelming love.

Daphne's fingernails clawed at his hand. He let himself drift with the pain, clinging to it and Daphne's mind like a lifeline.

The world began to spin around them. Hermione and Tracey's bodies blurred. For a few heartbeats, they could still hear their cheers, then they too faded away. Everything was lost in a hiss and an endless swirl of colour.

They had made it. They were travelling back in time.

And this time they would do everything better.


At the same time, far away in the high north, the King of the Everlasting Frost strode through his cold throne room. He strode past the bodies of his adversaries frozen into ice crystal, including that of the red-haired man who had thought himself a hero a few years ago. But in his kingdom, there were no heroes, only the end of a dream.

The king stopped as one of his servants approached. "Your Majesty," the servant said obsequiously, bowing to him. "We must take the sculptures away now."

With a dismissive gesture, Santa Claus allowed the servant to continue with his work. It was a shame, but by now they needed every ounce of life energy to keep the wound closed. If only he could finally escape all this.

"Soon it will be, my darling," a lovely voice rang in his thoughts. "Soon we will be reunited at last."

Soon.