Did I single-handedly become the world's first billionaire author, after being rejected by twelve individual publishing companies? If not, I don't own Harry Potter. Nor do I make any money whatsoever from this story. Any OC's in this tale are mine, though.
Mkay. Second chapter is out. Hope y'all enjoy.
I took heavy inspiration from JKR's Order of the Phoenix for before the dimensional hop. Just wanted to point that out for those of you who didn't notice.
I apologise in advance for any delays that may come to my update rate; I have a few important things going on right now that need addressing.
Alrighty. On with the story!
Chapter Two
Falling Down, Down, Down
The Death Chamber, the Department of Mysteries, Ministry of Magic, 19/06/1996…
Harry felt his entire body freeze, his wand stilling in his grasp; the half-formed incantation dying on his lips.
"No—no, you can't—Hermione, please—get up, c'mon…" he mumbled confusedly, staring vacantly at her still body, and oh God why wasn't she moving—
He jerkily started towards it, completely forgetting that he was still in a duel with a very powerful Death Eater.
Dolohov did not waste the opportunity.
The teenager absently felt himself go flying through the air, landing heavily on the smooth stone floor and sliding to a stop against the lowest level of the stone benches.
A maniacal smile lighting up his blood-streaked face, the dark-haired man approached Harry's dazed and unmoving form. His wand — almost as black as his robes — raised to point at the Boy-Who-Lived—
"Avada ked—"
"Diff...Diffindo!"
Most of Dolohov's wand arm suddenly separated from his body, hitting the ground with a wet thud—
The man stared blankly at the remainder of his limb before the maroon-red light of a Stunning spell silhouetted his body and he joined his severed arm on the floor, completely unconscious.
Harry blinked the dust out of his eyes, staring past Dolohov's still frame.
It was Hermione.
Alive.
In a seated position, she was leaning heavily on the hand she'd placed behind her; her vine wand unsteadily pointed in his direction and its tip smoking ever so slightly.
The young wizard let out a very relieved exhale — determinedly ignoring the Death Eater's bleeding body lying not three metres away from him — which he quickly cut off at the sight of Hermione's wand slackly dropping out of her hand, clattering loudly against the rocky ground.
An expression of absolute horror and disgust on her visage; the skin of her face abruptly lost its healthy pallor—
Her body collapsed backwards, her head listlessly lolling to the side.
Harry scrambled frantically over to her form, his wand rising to, presumably, perform Healing Charms — despite the small fact that the teenager did not know any Charms of that sort at all.
"Hermione?" he whispered, gently placing her head in his lap. He softly brushed strands of brown hair out of her bloodied forehead.
Doing so, he did not notice an airborne Death Eater go flying over his head, hitting the far wall; nor did he notice the satisfied yell emanate from Moody at the robed man's collapsing into a boneless heap.
A bright, woozy smile lit up her features. "Yes, Harry?"
The teenager blinked at her uncharacteristically enthusiastic reply. "Are you okay?"
"I am just dandy, Harry. Thank you for asking!"
She beamed widely, chocolate brown eyes gratefully meeting his emerald green. Hermione suddenly furrowed her brow.
"You know, I've got something to tell you," she imparted, the expression on her face looking for all the world as if the information she held was the most significant in existence.
And then, in a low voice with the slightest glimmer of mischief in her eyes—
"Come closer and I'll tell you."
Harry found himself leaning closer, his head now proximate enough to hers to see the different shades of hazel in her gaze.
She stared seriously and deeply — or, as seriously as one could stare, when lying flat on their back — at him. "I lo—"
And then she blinked rapidly, her grimacing face indicating that the very act had taken an inordinate amount of concentration.
Her gaze, now clear of something which Harry had not noticed before, bemusedly met his.
"Uhm, hello, Harry," she said dryly. "Any particular reason why you're close enough to kiss me?"
Harry pulled back very abruptly indeed, redness spreading across his dusty, sweaty and blood-splattered face. "N-no, no reason— it's just that you had some…something to tell me. N-never mind, though."
Hermione, oddly enough, found herself enjoying his reaction.
She scrutinised his expression for a few moments before shrugging, shakily attempting to sit up.
Her best friend helped her with an arm around her back, and then Hermione's hands suddenly flew to her Expanded pouch.
Harry looked curiously at it. "What're you looking for?"
"Quick, Harry—do you have your wand?" she replied instead, rummaging around frantically in her hip-mounted bag.
It was hastily pressed into her hand and Hermione stuck the tip inside the bag's neck. "Accio Draught of Delirium!"
A small vial rocketed out of her pouch; Harry's Seeker reflexes allowing him to catch the bottle before it smashed against the ground. Hermione removed the cork, downing the flask's contents.
Grimacing again, she shook her head violently as if trying to get water out of her ears.
"You okay?" Harry asked, briefly glancing around their position. Order members were still duelling the Death Eaters, and it looked like the forces of the Light were winning.
"Yeah, I'm—" Hermione took a short pause to cough. Making an expression of disgust, she continued to speak. "—good. Ugh. I am so glad I decided to pack that specific potion…"
"What was that yellow spell?" Harry asked after a few seconds of strained silence. His best friend shuddered slightly in response. "Did you recognise it?"
"It was the Delirious Dreams curse, Harry," Hermione answered quietly.
Recognition failed to blossom on Harry's face.
"You know, the one that made Arsenius Alvarodo go clinically insane after a single exposure? The wizard who was constantly trying to run through walls, completely certain that he was intangible? Ring any bells?"
His features lit up in understanding.
"Oh, yeah, I remember that guy." Harry suddenly snapped his gaze onto her form. "You're not about to try your luck in running through any walls, are you?"
Hermione chuckled heartily, reaching out a hand for her best friend to help her stand up. "No, I don't think I will. And according to a recent study into the curse, it was indicated that ingesting a Draught of Delirium less than five minutes after being hit by the curse mitigated its effects. Hopefully."
By this point in time, the two Gryffindors had looked more thoroughly around the room — miraculously, not a single Death Eater had taken the opportunity to hit them with a spell or two while Hermione had been on the ground.
A figure — his dark robes matted with dust and blood, skull-shaped mask askew on his face— stumbled towards the pair of students, tiredly raising his wand to curse them.
And then Albus Dumbledore materialised in one of the many entrances to the Death Chamber.
His knotted wand was held to the ready; powerful magic visibly swirling around his body and his weathered face hard with grim determination and icy fury.
The Death Eaters still conscious enough to notice Dumbledore's arrival yelled out in abject panic, scrambling away from the Headmaster like woodland animals clambering out of the way of a larger predator.
The man approaching the two youngsters, in particular, dropped his wand in terror, his legs giving out as he tried to scramble away from the centenarian wizard.
Voldemort's followers all but abandoned their allies who lay on the floor, attempting and ultimately failing to escape out of the Death Chamber.
Dumbledore made a wide, sweeping motion with his wand; continuing to descend the stone staircase at a rapid pace.
The two Death Eaters — who had almost scrambled out of an open doorway — were plucked off the rocky steps like an invisible hand had grabbed hold of their backs, depositing them upon the stone floor.
There was one combatant, however, who hadn't even noticed Dumbledore's appearance.
Sirius suddenly turned to engage Bellatrix in a duel, intercepting the witch's course towards his godson.
She bared her teeth at the black-haired man, very annoyed at his interruption.
The Black cousins' duel was fast and furious. Their incantations were mostly silent, iridescent jets of light streaking between the two combatants and gouging great, deep furrows in the stone and rock that the errant spells impacted.
Harry watched on, unconsciously holding his breath as Sirius ducked low, dropping below the glowing beam of death that sailed over his head.
"Merlin, dear Bellatrix," he taunted, laughing uproariously at her. The maniacal grin of before had returned in full force to his features; his dark eyes wild with battle lust.
"Is that all you've got? Surely your sweet little master would have trained his right-hand-witch bet—"
"Avada Kedavra!"
It was not the well-known green beam of light that emerged from the tip of Bellatrix's wand.
No, it was a small ball of white light, flying towards the Black Lord far faster than the Killing Curse would have been.
As he had been expecting a certain, death-inducing spell with her shouted incantation, Sirius was thoroughly unprepared for when the quickly-moving and high-powered Banishing charm struck him square in the chest.
His body was lifted off the ground, his wand sailing out of his grip; his person flying directly towards the tattered veil—
Harry acted.
With an inarticulate scream, the Boy-Who-Lived thrust his wand out towards his godfather, making a pulling motion like he was reeling in a particularly strong fish held on the end of a fishing pole.
Pullpullpullpull—
Sirius's body changed trajectories mid-air and landed with a slight bump at Harry's feet.
He blinked up at his heavily breathing godson, convinced he had seen his entire life flash by his eyes. "T-thanks, Pup."
"N-no problem, Padfoot," Harry absently found himself answering. He was currently staring at his holly wand as if he'd never seen it before. "A-any time."
Bellatrix suddenly let out a screech of triumph.
She turned on her heel and bolted through the open doorway on the far side of the chamber, her high cackles echoing behind her retreating form.
A hand flying to his now-empty pocket, Harry's eyes went wide.
"Headmaster!" he shouted, stumbling towards his unofficial mentor, Hermione and Sirius following along behind him.
Dumbledore was currently tying up three black-robed forms in some sort of magical rope. Upon hearing Harry's shout, he turned to face the approaching group.
"Bellatrix! She's—" Harry panted, cursing his need for air in this critical moment. "She's got the—"
The old wizard's face went white with alarm.
"I need to contain a breach in the p—" Dumbledore paused, shaking his head. "Never mind. Harry, Sirius, Ms Granger, would you be willi—"
The Chief Warlock did not even get to finish his sentence, as the mentioned individuals had immediately bolted towards that same exit, hot on the heels of Voldemort's most competent Death Eater.
They would not let her escape.
~ooOOooOOOooOOoo~
The Atrium, Ministry of Magic, 19/06/1996…
The trio raced out of the Department of Mysteries, chasing after Bellatrix and the little orb she had stolen from them.
Fortunately, it had been a clear route to the Atrium — whichever cosmic entity that determined the secretive Department's configuration had luckily acted in their favour.
Up and up through the Ministry they ran, catching the tail end of a high cackle echo down a corridor; glimpsing the corner of a dark robe swishing out of sight around a corner.
Harry, Hermione and Sirius emerged from the security checkpoint, spotting Bellatrix running full pelt across the Atrium to one of the Floo terminals.
She was shouting at the tops of her lungs, absolute delight dripping from her tone.
"MASTER! OH—MASTER, I'VE GOT IT—MASTER, I GOT THE PROPH—"
Sirius silently flung a spell at her back; the crazed witch falling onto the marble floor with a heavy oof and the prophecy serenely rolling out of her grasp.
Hermione whipped up her wand, an incantation flowing from her lips. "Accio Prophecy!"
The small ball of glass noiselessly raised itself off the ground and flew towards her.
Bellatrix scrambled to her knees and jerked her own wand at the levitating crystal ball. "NO! Accio Prophecy!"
The globule containing a gaseous, misty-white substance froze in its trajectory, silently hovering equidistant from both Bellatrix and Hermione.
And then it slowly started to drift towards the older witch; Bellatrix being the magically stronger of the two.
Luckily, Harry had not been idle.
Recalling that same thought of pullpullpullpull from earlier, the Boy-Who-Lived grunted, pointing his wand at the levitating crystal ball and making another 'reeling-in' motion.
The prophecy promptly shattered into a million pieces, the incredibly fine fragments of glass softly falling to the polished ground; the construct unable to withstand all the magical forces acting upon it.
The smoke contained within silently dissipated in the still air of the Ministry's Atrium.
If asked, Harry would say that the display looked as beautiful as snow descending from the heavens.
A sharp pain suddenly lanced through his entire being, as if someone had taken a red-hot fire poker and stabbed it directly into Harry's forehead. He almost dropped his wand in surprise, not having anticipated the painful feeling.
Bellatrix's eyes went wide, the now-desolate witch falling flat on her behind.
A note of true fear finally registered in her voice.
"No—NO! MA—MASTER, PLEASE! I TRIED, I TRIED MY HARDEST—PLEASE, DON'T PUNISH ME—"
"Quiet, Bellatrix. I shall deal with you at a later time."
The high, icy tones accompanying the command echoed loudly around the cavernous Ministry Atrium.
Harry, Sirius and Hermione looked around wildly, trying to locate the voice's source.
Bellatrix scuttled away to a dark corner, fearfully looking down at the polished Atrium floor.
A figure cloaked in a robe of the darkest black noiselessly materialised in the centre of the room.
It was tall; very thin — almost emaciated — and its head was hidden within a hood of that same dark material.
The skeletal silhouette raised its head, and the blood-red eyes of Lord Voldemort stared back at Harry, slit-shaped pupils focusing on the boy with terrifying intensity.
"So. You decided to destroy my prophecy," Voldemort commented softly. His long, spindly fingers gently caressed the orange-brown wood of his wand.
His snake-like eyes narrowed at them; the three Gryffindors — one in spirit, at least — actively resisting the urge to flinch.
"All those incredibly detailed plans…all of those months of preparations…gone; wasted. Poured down the drain, because of you three."
By this point the serpentine figure had started pacing, his gaze unerringly focused on the younger wizards and witch; gaunt head cocked to the side like a curious cat.
"I, therefore, see no more use in keeping you all alive," said Voldemort lightly, as if he was discussing nothing more significant than the weather.
His wand, impossibly fast, snapped up to point directly at Harry's heart. The poor boy didn't even have time to react.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Hermione lunged at Harry, bodily tackling him out of the way of the deathly green curse. It continued downrange, smashing into the security desk and blowing it to smithereens.
Sirius grabbed a handful of Harry's robes and started dragging him towards the golden fountain, trusting Hermione to follow after them. He quickly raised his wand, firing off offensive spell after offensive spell as fast as he could.
Voldemort merely chuckled, swatting the highly destructive curses aside as if they were nothing more than annoying flies.
He returned fire with an extremely powerful Bombarda, one that came so close to Hermione's hastily moved head that she could feel the magical energy crackle off it as the curse passed her by. It impacted against the wall far behind her, gouging a deep crater into its polished surface.
The trio eventually made it behind the golden statue of a centaur, a goblin and a headless wizard, relatively unharmed. Harry's wits returned to him — finally! — and the three flung spells back at their foe, only peeking out of cover long enough to aim before letting their jinxes and curses fly.
The Dark Lord continued moving towards them at an incredibly sedate pace, looking for all the world as if he was taking a relaxing walk in the park.
His wand arm flashed around his body, easily deflecting and shielding all the spells Harry, Sirius and Hermione threw at him.
No matter how much magic the three launched in his direction, Voldemort remained unaffected, casually strolling towards them like an unstoppable force of nature.
The creature's mouth opened in a poor imitation of a yawn.
"There is no point in actively resisting the inevitable, Potter," he said in a bored tone of voice, the slightest flick of his wand causing Hermione's reasonably strong Bludgeoning charm to rocket directly towards Sirius's exposed shoulder. "Give up now, and maybe I'll grant you a quick death."
Harry seized the back of the man's robes, jerking him back into cover as the deflected charm whizzed through the space his body had previously occupied. "Never, Riddle!"
Voldemort suddenly bared his teeth, a curse sending the polished tiles next to Hermione up into the air as tiny little fragments. They peppered the hiding trio, who instinctively cringed away from the explosion.
"Do not call me by that name, Potter!" the tall figure commanded angrily. Harry risked a glance between the centaur's legs and promptly dropped flat on his face as an almost black wave of magical energy cleaved clean through them. "You shall suffer for your insolence!"
"Don't worry, Harry, Sirius," Hermione whispered, slinging a Reducto at the approaching silhouette.
It, expectedly, did not connect with Voldemort's body; instead, the spell was deflected upwards to crash into the roof and cause a cascade of dust to fall to the ground.
"As long as we stay behind the Fountain of Magical Brethren, we should be reasonably safe — according to The Ministry of Magic, A History, it's been specifically enchanted against vandalism and offensive spe—"
Voldemort grew impatient with their little cat-and-mouse game, deciding to blast his way through the 'enchanted' statue with multiple, high-powered Killing Curses.
Hermione squeaked at the loud bangs that sounded out from the impacts of the Dark Lord's spells, scrambling further behind what little dwindling cover they had.
Old Mad-Eye Moody's voice suddenly echoed through Sirius' mind, back from the time when a younger, dark-haired man had enlisted in the Auror Corps with his similarly-black-haired best friend.
"Oi, you two! Black, Potter! Never remain stationary when in a magical duel! You stay in one place, you die, you hear me?! Constant vigilance!"
With his former mentor's words in mind, the Animagus waited for the perfect opportunity.
When Voldemort was close enough and had his wand pointed at the opposite side of the golden fountain, Padfoot pounced, changing into his Grim Animagus form mid-air.
The large, bear-like dog latched its teeth around Voldemort's left arm, thrashing its head around wildly.
Voldemort hissed, a flick of his wand sending a jet of grey light into the hide of the shaggy animal.
It let out a piteous whimper, another gesture of the Dark Lord's wrist resulting in Padfoot being flung across the room, where he eventually came to a stop in a boneless heap near the elevator-phone-box thingy.
Harry gave an incoherent scream of rage at the sight of his godfather lying injured on the ground.
He recklessly stood up and vertically slashed his wand at Voldemort, feeling the hatred from earlier that night come rocketing back to the forefront of his mind.
Hermione lunged out of the questionable safety provided by the ruined statue to grab Harry, attempting to pull him back into cover.
Voldemort simply side-stepped the surprisingly powerful wave of magic that had originated from the Boy-Who-Lived's wand, a returning thrust of his magical weapon sending the Muggleborn girl careening backwards into the far wall.
She hit the wall with a sickening thump and slowly slid down it, eventually settling into an awkward, half-crumpled position on the floor; her unmoving body seemingly dead to an outside observer—
It was only the fact that Hermione's chest was shallowly rising that prevented Harry from outright using the Killing Curse on Voldemort right then and there.
Which probably would have knocked the younger wizard out as a result of complete magical exhaustion.
The Dark Lord gestured again with his wand. Harry felt himself get lifted into the air, arms and legs spread wide; his holly wand ripped out of his grip and clattering to the floor somewhere in all the water-soaked rubble.
Voldemort rolled his neck as if he had just completed a rather pleasant warm-up routine.
"Such potential you have, Harry. I can just imagine the heights of magic that I could've brought you to…" whispered the man-snake, lifting his right arm with a seemingly regretful mien. "Alas, dear child, you must die; for I, the great Lord Voldemort, to be truly victorious."
"Good-bye, Harry Potter. Avada Kedavra!"
The boy stared, with morbid curiosity, as the vivid beam of green light rapidly approached his body.
Closing his eyes at the very last moment, Harry wondered if death would hurt.
~ooOOooOOOooOOoo~
The Atrium, Ministry of Magic, 19/06/1996…
But death never came.
For when Harry reluctantly opened his eyes, he found a mirror-image of himself staring right back.
Blinking slightly, the boy amended his observation.
No, he was staring at a large rectangle consisting of polished tiles — the floor of the Atrium, he eventually realised —which had somehow raised themselves in front of him like a shield.
"What is this—" Voldemort started, looking around wildly.
And then—
"DUMBLEDORE!"
Albus Dumbledore stood in the entrance to the Ministry's lower levels, his robes billowing majestically in some invisible wind. His magic crackling powerfully around his tall body, the Headmaster slowly approached the form of his former student.
His knotted wand was pointed towards Harry, and his face was the hardest and coldest that the young wizard had ever seen it be.
"Tom Riddle," Dumbledore greeted pleasantly, as if he was meeting up with an old acquaintance. And then his demeanour became completely devoid of gaiety. "I see you've attempted to kill young Harry here. I simply cannot allow that to happen."
Voldemort snarled in response, flinging a Killing Curse at his old Headmaster.
The centenarian wizard disappeared with a silent whoosh of air, re-appearing directly behind Riddle.
A scintillating beam of blue-white energy extended from Dumbledore's wand, almost impacting his enemy's exposed back — had a silvery, translucent shield not snapped into existence and deflected the attack.
Spinning on his heel, Voldemort whipped his wand up to fire another green jet of light at the Headmaster.
Dumbledore side-stepped the Killing Curse, waving his wand around in an intricate motion—
The tiled floor around the Dark Lord suddenly rose like a liquid, conforming perfectly to his body and binding him from the waist down. Metallic chains infused with a blue glow flew towards the trapped man-snake, attempting to wrap fully around his upper body.
A grey cage materialised above Voldemort, descending rapidly to confine him fully—
Riddle, in response, drew his arms in tightly, as if he was hugging himself.
He then violently threw them outwards with a deafening scream, a sphere of bright orange light surrounding his body and expanding rapidly. The liquidized floor on his form disappeared as if it had not existed, the magical chains disintegrating into ash and the grey cage banished high into the air.
It firmly lodged itself in the room of the Atrium, which was at least thirty metres off the ground.
Harry stared incredulously at the pair of incredibly powerful wizards.
"You fight not to kill, Dumbledore?" Voldemort breathed, now free of his bindings; his teeth bared as he launched a thick pillar of deathly green energy at the Headmaster. "It shall be your downfall!"
Dumbledore fired back his own beam of eldritch blue; the two manifestations of pure magic impacting each other with a dull boom and the offshoots of the spells dripping to the floor like a liquid—
Harry felt the invisible force holding him up suddenly disappear, his body falling heavily to the ground.
The young wizard was forced to shield his eyes as the beams collided, his hair and clothes billowing wildly in the strong wind somehow generated by the powerful magic being performed.
"There are many ways by which a man can be defeated, Tom," Dumbledore countered calmly, circling to his right. Voldemort emulated his enemy, walking towards his left. "Most, I suspect, would not feel sufficiently vindicated at the mere taking of your life—"
Despite feeling exhaustion in his very bones, the raven-haired teen scrambled onto his hands and knees, rapidly searching around in the rubble for his wand.
Bellatrix was still in her crouched position, in her dark corner; gazing awestruck as her master fought against the Leader of the Light.
Upon finding the rod of holly wood, Harry stumbled over to his best friend's slumped form, collapsing heavily next to her. Absently, he Summoned his godfather's unconscious, now-human body as gently as he could — despite the well-established fact that Summoning charms didn't work on living people.
The boy watched in complete amazement as the two titans of magic engaged in combat, their wands a formless blur and constantly in motion. Countless amounts of spells and curses emanated from both individuals, flying towards their respective opponent at a speed far too fast for Harry to even comprehend.
Even more impressive was the fact that the duel was completely silent.
No incantations passed either wizard's lips as the two combatants duelled and matched each other spell-for-spell, except for the occasional grunt of effort or pant for breath.
Upon seeing the highly impressive display, Harry could tell that the serpentine man was a lot more powerful than he'd previously assumed.
Voldemort hadn't even gone full-out on him, Hermione and Sirius; yet they had been completely and utterly trounced!
A slight moan escaped his best friend's mouth, the girl blearily blinking her eyes open to stare at the roof.
Harry's gaze snapped to her awakening form, relief plain on his features. "Oh, thank Merlin—Hermione, you're alright—"
She painfully attempted to sit up. Harry smoothly positioned himself behind her, letting the girl lean back against his chest as his arms wrapped protectively around her exhausted body.
Hermione spoke slowly as if the very act of breathing was painful. Harry silently offered her a vial containing a purple liquid that he'd retrieved from her pouch; the witch recognising the pain-relief potion and gratefully ingesting it.
"Harry…what happened?" she whispered.
"Voldemort happened, Hermione," he responded in a quiet voice, watching as the mentioned individual fired an arcing beam of white lightning at Dumbledore. The Headmaster made another gesture — a small tower of copper raised itself out of the floor. The lightning veered off to the left, grounding itself within the short structure of the metal.
Dumbledore returned fire by Conjuring a swarm of small, globular balls of light. They raced towards Voldemort, who merely flicked his wand in an upwards motion.
The balls of light impacted against the Atrium's ceiling, explosions detonating loudly — with far more concussive force than such small globules should have produced — from where they hit it.
An unending cascade of rubble and debris, including the grey cage from before, fell to the Atrium's floor with enough force to punch right through the polished expanse.
From his position, Harry couldn't see properly into the hole. Judging by the gloomy, low lighting emerging from it, though, he estimated the aperture had reached all the way down to the Department of Mysteries.
Just how a few pieces of rubble had caused such damage, the young wizard had no clue.
"Where…others?" Hermione coughed, mentally cursing her incredibly dry throat.
The lip of a bottle filled with water — again drawn from her hip-mounted pouch. Merlin, that thing was useful! — was helpfully pressed against her mouth before she even had to ask. Hermione gratefully drunk the offered liquid, feeling her affection for her best friend rise to insurmountable levels.
"I'm not sure," Harry replied, gently resting his chin upon her shoulder. Hermione leaned back further into his embrace, sighing slightly. "I think they're still downstairs, somewhere. Probably with the rest of the Order."
He nudged her cheek with his nose after a brief silence had settled between the two. "Thanks, by the way."
"For…what?"
"Attempting to save my reckless arse," Harry clarified, guilt now in his tone. He wasn't just speaking about her tackling him out of the way of Voldemort's Killing Curse — rather, the entire Department of Mysteries debacle itself.
Hermione rolled her eyes, lightly squeezing the hand resting on her stomach. "You're…you're welcome, Harry. Just, next time, please try to…to not get yourself into such situations. I may not be able to get you out of them again."
She and Harry suddenly let out cries of alarm as they felt themselves — along with Sirius' still unconscious body — gently get lifted off the ground and deposited rather close to the gaping chasm in the tiled floor.
A basilisk consisting entirely out of fire crashed into the space they'd previously occupied; blindingly-hot fangs extended—
The relocated teenagers stared incredulously at the creature; mouths agape in horror. Sweet Merlin, that had been close!
The monster reared back, stretching to its full, hundred-foot-tall height and shaking its head as if to reorient itself.
It positioned its body to strike again at the exhausted trio.
Dumbledore materialised about ten metres in front of them, still radiating magic as a furnace would heat.
Though, Harry could see fatigue begin to creep into the Chief Warlock's frame; his movements becoming ever-so-sluggish.
Voldemort was faring no better; a slight sheen of sweat upon his bald head and breathing slightly more heavily than usual.
The flaming construct suddenly lost its form; the old Headmaster whipping his magical weapon around his head like a lasso.
The shapeless bands of fire collected around Dumbledore's shape, chaotically rushing around him and building in intensity as they did.
Harry only just noticed the rather large crowd of wizards and witches at the far end of the expansive room, who had entered it at some point in the last five minutes.
And at the forefront of the group was none other than Minister Fudge himself.
The incompetent politician's mouth was soundlessly opening and closing as he took in the sight of the Chief Warlock duelling the one individual that Fudge had ardently insisted remained dead.
Dumbledore relinquished most of his control over the fire; long tongues of flame streaking towards Voldemort.
Hurricane-force winds manifested in the destroyed Atrium, the Dark Lord dissipating the incoming streaks of fire before they could reach him.
Catching sight of the collection of Ministry officials gazing horror-struck at him — which was getting larger by the second, as more individuals Floo'd into the Atrium — Riddle snarled in frustration. His return had now been revealed to the Wizarding World.
Voldemort whipped his wand up, launching multiple crackling balls of dark, scintillating energy towards the still-frozen Minister.
Dumbledore spun on his heel, vanishing from sight. He reappeared inbetween the rotund politician and the oncoming balls of assured death and destruction.
The Headmaster gripped his wand at the base and held it in front of his chest, the tip pointing towards the ceiling.
It — the top of his wand, not the Atrium's roof— began to glow a soft blue, a crescent-shaped shield fading into existence around the old wizard.
As they impacted his defences, the balls were transformed into harmless, sparkly granules of dust, which softly fell to the floor.
Despite his assassination attempt having failed, Voldemort smirked triumphantly.
His distraction had worked.
Sirius finally awoke, groggily standing up and favouring his left side slightly. He looked down at the figures of his godson and the boy's best friend, who were also slowly rising to their feet. "You guys alright?"
"Yeah, we're good," Harry replied, supporting Hermione as she leaned rather heavily on him. The mentioned girl nodded, shifting uncomfortably in her water-logged shoes.
The young wizard's eyes suddenly widened. "Siri—"
Sirius glanced away from his inspection of his bloodied hands only to see a familiar ball of white light impact his chest, sending the Black Lord sliding rapidly along the ground.
And directly towards the gaping hole in the Atrium's floor, near the destroyed remains of the ornate fountain.
Harry's wand had been discarded in the rubble somewhere, so the teenager was unable to Summon his godfather again.
So, instead, he raced after the man's coasting form, only stopping at the edge of the chasm when Sirius's body disappeared into it.
Harry saw his godfather falling through multiple levels of the underground building, the Animagus' trajectory leading him towards a stone-walled pool of an inky black substance. The small pond was situated in that room with the amorphous, screeching thing, and had now been exposed to the air of the Atrium.
Something compelled Harry to leap after Sirius' body, the boy rapidly descending after the older man.
Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione glimpsed the forest-green tinge of a Killing Curse streaking towards her. It was moving too fast to be dodged, and so she only had one option.
Hermione fearlessly threw herself over the edge, emulating her best friend and his godfather as she plummeted towards that pool of blackness.
Voldemort let out a victorious shout, Disapparating away from the Ministry. His right-hand lieutenant, unseen, followed along behind her master, maliciously gleeful at the Boy-Who-Lived's apparent death.
The trio somehow caught up to each other; Harry clamping his hand on Sirius's flailing ankle and Hermione latching tightly onto his hand.
The impenetrable expanse of blackness became inexorably larger as the seconds ticked on until all Harry could see was his own reflection staring back at his falling body.
The young wizard wondered, again, if the impact — and, consequentially, death — would hurt.
He broke the surface of the pool and his world became an unending field of dark.
~ooOOooOOOooOOoo~
Unknown Location, Unknown Time, Unknown Date…
I think, therefore I am.
With that statement, a consciousness manifested in the all-encompassing expanse of non-existence.
It floated silently in the formless void between worlds, trying and failing to come up with a reason for its continued existence.
Then the notion of having a self-identity drifted through its mind, and the consciousness named itself Hermione Granger.
She tried to comprehend her current situation with non-functional senses, but utterly failed in her endeavour; the human mind not having evolved to fathom existence in such a foreign place.
If it could even be called a place, that is…a state of being felt more aptly descriptive to the entity known as Hermione.
She just…was.
There just was no other explanation for it.
She blinked with eyes that previously had not existed, taking in the shapeless grey mist of her surroundings.
It coalesced into a set of solid surfaces, finally comprehendible to the girl's decidedly human mind. A bricked pathway manifested below Hermione's feet, wide enough to allow no more than four beings to walk abreast of each other comfortably.
The fog on the sides of the road and on the 'ceiling' remained indistinct and shapeless; the young witch somehow knowing that it would be highly advisable to stick to the middle of the path.
Hermione could see the entire visage perfectly — everything at once being illuminated simultaneously and equally; a perfect, harmonious balance between That-Which-Isn't and That-Which-Is.
There were no shadows; for there was no singular source of light for the dark shapes to form from.
Reality in its truest, most basic form — proudly put on display for the inter-dimensional travellers.
The thought that such lighting should be impossible failed to register in her mind.
She found herself proceeding down the bricked pathway, sensing two…presences on either side of her; silently accompanying the girl on her jaunt through the space between worlds.
The one on her left, coined Padfoot by itself, was physically taller than the other two — though such words held no meaning in this plane of existence.
An emaciated, horrifically burnt baby was being carried by the presence on Hermione's right; the entity calling itself Harry Potter. Had one looked at him in the tangible world, one would have seen vibrant green eyes topped by a mop of inky black hair.
The oddity of lugging around an infant in such a strange and possibly dangerous place as this failed to register in Harry's mind too.
They eventually came to a stop at the threshold of an intimidating, dark-grey wall.
It was unimaginably tall and wide; stretching as far as Hermione could see in both horizontal and vertical directions. The slightest touch of a fingertip against its smooth surface discerned the fact that the barrier was as solid as it appeared.
Her companions stopped at the same time as she did; closely inspecting the wall as silently as they had been walking.
"What do we do now, Pup, Big Brain?" the presence on her left — Padfoot — asked. "That looks — to me, at least — like an impassable wall."
Though, the term 'ask' didn't deal the action sufficient justice — the best way that Hermione could describe what the entity did was convey its message through meaning.
The being in the middle of the little procession glared furiously at the entity on its left.
Said entity suddenly felt like its very existence was being threatened in that one single look.
"Do not call me Big Brain, Padfoot, if you value your current, unharmed state," the offended one growled, turning away from the highly repentant being and running intangible hands against an equally intangible wall.
The being on her right pointed at a door — which had materialised in the last few seconds — with its free arm. "We could try that, I suppose."
A genderless, humanoid figure glided out of the aperture, its true shape hidden by a cloak peppered with spots of the darkest light and juxtaposed against a backdrop of the lightest darkness.
The young witch didn't even try to explain the reality-bending properties of the cape.
The being turned towards the trio — and, despite the entity lacking eyes, the three consciousnesses felt that its attention was somehow upon them.
"Travellers. Welcome to the Great Barrier," it greeted; again, transmitting its message not via words but in meaning.
"Uh, hello," Hermione said in reply. She cocked her transparent head to the side curiously. "How long have you been standing there, if you don't mind me asking?"
"In the great Void between worlds, floating in the sweet embrace of fathomless Nothingmore," it began, adopting a grave mien to its persona.
The three travellers stared, intrigued, at the entity, who began to gesture widely as it continued to speak.
"The far-reaching influence of Lady Time herself ceases to have any non-negligible effect. Entities existing in this state of being are not compelled into adherence with her most stringent of laws."
The dark silhouette stared expectantly at the trio of human entities as if it was waiting for something to happen.
Its 'shoulders' slumped despondently when it observed that the newest visitors to the Great Barrier weren't duly impressed with its occupant's theatrics.
"So…time doesn't work here?" Padfoot half-stated, half-asked.
He was granted an approving nod for his question.
"Wait, who even are you?" Harry suddenly inquired, shifting the charred baby in his arms slightly.
"Oh, my apologies," the entity replied. It proceeded to gallantly introduce itself, even going so far as to dip the upper half of its figure in a little bow. "I am Gatekeeper Avantis of the Great Barrier, Travellers."
There was, maddeningly, a complete absence of recognition in the minds of its visitors.
So, the Gatekeeper continued to speak.
"I guard the various pathways between realities, letting those who pay sufficiently to pass through. For those who don't, however…" Avantis raised its shoulders, imitating a shrug.
"Well. You can just take a look behind you."
The trio slowly chanced a look in the indicated direction.
And nearly jumped into a state of pure non-existence — a black, gaping chasm in the very fabric of reality was silently lurking behind them; the singularized antithesis of existence itself hovering a very short distance away from their bodies and hissing very loudly.
The group of interdimensional travellers had not had the slightest clue that they were literally inches away from complete and utter annihilation.
"Right, okay," Padfoot squeaked out in reply. He surreptitiously shuffled forward a couple of inches, trying to put some distance between him and the wide, yawning maw of death.
If asked, the black-haired man would have said that he'd responded to that discovery with a 'manly growl of assent.'
And his two companions would have helpfully corrected him, laughing aloud at his consequent put-out expression.
"What would be sufficient payment, then, for all three of us?" Harry asked, also inching away from the frightening spectacle.
He re-positioned the red bundle onto his other shoulder, seemingly not noticing that he was holding onto a badly burnt babe.
The Gatekeeper's attention was drawn to the small figure at its movement.
Had the extra-dimensional being had eyes, they surely would have widened in the accompaniment of Avantis sharply drawing in a breath.
"That would be adequate remittance, Travellers," it stated in a quiet tone, tilting its head towards the item in question.
Harry, Hermione and Padfoot's eyes all fell upon the baby.
The younger wizard let out a shout of surprise as he finally realised what he'd been lugging around for all of this time.
A frown appeared on then Hermione's visage; an expression reluctantly mirrored on Harry's face.
"But—but—it's a baby…" he weakly protested, feeling the odd urge to clutch onto the mentioned infant tighter. It started wriggling about as if somehow sensing that it was being talked about.
The Gatekeeper 'stared' incredulously at them.
"It's also a Horcrux, Traveller," Avantis pointed out, crossing its darkly coloured arms.
"You do know what they are, right?" came the question from the black humanoid, upon observing the blankness in their minds.
The extraplanar equivalent of a human sigh escaping the general vicinity of its head, the Gatekeeper continued to explain the subject more thoroughly.
"Horcruxes — technically, the plural form of the word is Horcruces, but it's far easier to use the mentioned term — are, in as simple words as possible, fragmented parts of souls," Avantis said, its 'voice' taking on a lecturing tone.
A bewildered Padfoot, an intrigued Hermione and a horrified Harry listened carefully to the entity's explanation.
"They are created by those stupid enough to split and fracture the very essence of their being; whereby said individuals are prevented from passing into the realm of Lady Death when it's their time. The existence of these objects is a source of not insignificant vexation on Death's part, as time and time again they deprive her of new souls to process and, sometimes, devour."
"In fact, she told me very recently that a particularly irksome little being — self-named Voldemort. 'Flee from Death'? Really? Ha! — had made f—"
The extra-dimensional being suddenly stopped talking, as if a voice-restrictive force of supracosmic proportions had acted upon the entity.
The Gatekeeper shook its head, refocusing on the three souls before it.
"So, Travellers. If you want to bypass the Barrier, thereby avoiding the bittersweet embrace of Oblivion—"
Avantis nodded towards the 'physical' embodiment of existential extermination, which had noiselessly drifted slightly closer to the trio at some point in the last few 'minutes'.
The Travellers had no more space with which to manoeuvre; them having moved towards the enormous wall until they were practically attempting to merge with whatever material it was made of.
"—then you, Harry, shall give me the Horcrux, and your little group shall be allowed on its way."
The mentioned individual reluctantly handed over the baby, feeling as if he was finally parting with a piece of himself that had just not belonged.
"How did you know my name?" he enquired, once the charred infant was in the arms of the Gatekeeper. The baby writhed about frantically, its infantile mind keenly aware that its very existence was being threatened by the one holding it.
"The Gatekeeper of the Great Barrier sees All," the coal-black figure replied mysteriously. Gliding to the side, it gestured the trio passage through the mentioned wall.
Hermione nodded thankfully at the powerful entity as she walked past it. Harry and Padfoot copied her example, ducking their heads gratefully.
"Safe journey and fruitful endeavours, Travellers," Gatekeeper Avantis said, bidding them farewell as the Horcrux baby settled down, seemingly accepting its inevitable fate.
The three humans waved back at the entity, proceeding down the now unblocked, bricked path and — unknowingly — into another reality.
And then, quietly, mumbled in an afterthought—
"I wish you the greatest amounts of luck, oh Children of Fate. I fear that you shall need it."
~ooOOooOOOooOOoo~
The Death Chamber, Department of Mysteries, Ministry of Magic, 19/06/1996…
Meanwhile, in a reality quite similar yet very much fundamentally different, a battle was being fought within the depths of the Ministry of Magic.
"Lovely hit, Moony!"
The tall man — outfitted in grey, Auror-grade light dragonhide clothing — ducked out of the way of a sickly blue spell that would have surely converted his internal organs down into their constituent atoms, despite his armour, had it impacted his body.
A complicated flick of his wrist resulted in the stone blocks rising out of the floor like a liquid, conforming perfectly to his darkly robed opponent's body and binding him in place.
The trapped Death Eater was quickly Stunned in his stone cocoon.
James Potter brushed strands of sweaty black hair out of his eyes; his sharp brown gaze scouring the Death Chamber for more followers of Voldemort to fight.
He glimpsed the similarly armoured form of his wife duelling furiously against two Death Eaters, her copper-red hair flipping around in its ponytail majestically.
She was standing guard over the large rock their daughter, Rosalyn Potter, and Frank's son, Neville Longbottom, were hiding behind.
A shimmering shield of blue energy formed around the two students of Hogwarts, protecting them from a dark purple curse. It originated from a Death Eater, blond-ish brown hair matted down and stained with dust and blood, who had been attempting to flank around their hidden position.
James' wand flashing through its spell-forming motions, he sent a powerful Banishing charm towards the bleeding man.
His aim was true; the black-robed figure rapidly shooting away to slump painfully upon the lowest level of the stone benches.
Another flick resulted in a reasonably sized rock flying towards the prone body, Transfiguring itself into thick bands of grey material mid-air.
The bindings wrapped around the downed Death Eater and prevented his unconscious form from moving.
When the brown-eyed man turned back to those he held dear in his heart, he was treated to a rather humorous sight.
Lily had successfully landed a hex on her left-most opponent, one that resulted in the man collapsing to the ground; flailing his limbs wildly as what looked like small bats messily ripped themselves free of his nostrils and bloodied his face.
Served the bastard right, James thought vindictively.
The Death Eater on Lily's right suddenly began clucking loudly like a chicken; white, blue-tipped feathers spouting out of all patches of exposed skin and the man-duck hopping around frantically on one leg.
James — very reluctantly, mind you — put both Death Eaters out of their admittedly amusing misery with two, quick Stunning spells.
He approached the flushed form of his wife and briefly wound his arm around her shoulders, pressing a light kiss to her sweaty temple. "Alright, dear? Death Eaters give you any trouble?"
Lily, slightly irritated, puffed on the errant tresses of red hair that had escaped her high ponytail. A marginal scowl appeared on her beautiful features.
"Mulciber clipped my shoulder with a Scalding hex," she replied, gingerly probing the top of her left arm with her wand hand. She hissed as it came into contact with the affected area. "So, I clocked him around the head with a new spell I'd been working on. You can see the results."
James glanced towards where his wife indicated with her wand.
The robed figure, now revealed as Mulciber, was out cold and lay flat on his back; the same bats from before still attacking his ruined face.
The Potter patriarch chuckled heartily at her seemingly over-the-top reaction and its effect on the unfortunate Death Eater.
A further glance around the room revealed a single, darkly robed man — the last remaining follower of Voldemort who hadn't fled the Death Chamber when it had become apparent that the forces of the Light were winning — falling under the combined onslaught of a half-dozen wands.
The victorious Order of the Phoenix began securing the black-robed figures for the largely incompetent Ministry to find at some point in the future.
Though, they were not without their own injuries and fatalities — James glimpsed his best friend, Remus Lupin, gently laying a white tarp over the body of an unknown witch.
"The infamous Tiger Lily stretches her claws again!" he announced theatrically, forming a claw with his free hand. Lily rolled her eyes in response, amused at his antics. "Death Eaters, racist sycophants and unpleasant people in general, beware of the Red Tiger!"
"Hey, Dad — please, for the love of Merlin, stop that," Rosalyn suddenly pleaded, burying her face within her hands. She was embarrassed to hell.
Neville's lips silently twitched, the Boy-Who-Lived's tall frame tiredly slumping against the large rock behind him as his wand finally dropped to his side.
Lily reluctantly released her grip on her husband. "Mind your language, young lady," she admonished, picking small bits of debris out of her dragonhide clothing.
Rosalyn grinned toothily. "Sorry, Mum," the girl apologized sincerely, clearly not repentant at all.
Her mother rolled her eyes again. "Come on, then, let's get you back to Hogwarts. You too, Neville."
The three started to walk towards one of the Death Chamber's entrances, all of them slightly favouring some part or another of their bodies.
"Rose? Do you still have it?" Neville suddenly asked after a few minutes of silence.
Wizard and the two witches proceeded through the Time Room; the soft, scintillating glow of the large, crystal bell-like jar illuminating their path.
Rosalyn carefully stepped over a small pile of the smashed remains of what looked like hundreds of Time-Turners. Her mother and Neville also cautiously avoided the golden powder that spilt from the broken glass, twinkling deceptively with an innocent shine.
She produced the mentioned item from her pocket, perfectly intact and undamaged. "Yeah, I managed to snatch it back from a Death Eater… Dolohov? I think? Anyways, I got it before he could escape with it—"
They stepped into a room containing a tall vat with something trapped inside, a large pool of some inky black substance and deadly looking, wickedly sharp metallic weapons hanging off the wall.
Rosalyn had just enough time to hold the valuable prophecy in such a way that it would not instantly be destroyed before her body hit the ground; the girl having tripped over some small object.
Raising her head, she turned around to glare at whatever item had caused her to tumble.
But then her gaze landed on a leg — a human leg, clothed in bloodied, dusty, dark blue jeans — and slowly trailed up the attached body, eventually stopping on its head.
Malachite eyes — identical to her own, right down to the slightly lighter shade of green in the right eye — looked back at her from a pale face under a mop of unruly, jet-black hair, which was streaked with healthy amounts of grey dust.
In fact, had someone looked at Rosalyn and the unknown person, they would not have been admonished for assuming that the two were siblings.
She stared, blinking rapidly.
The boy stared right back, his eyelids flitting up and down as rapidly as hers.
"Uh, hi," she greeted, bemusedly. The boy's gaze snapped back to hers, briefly having wandered around the room. "Who are you?"
His finger suddenly flew to his lips in the universal shushing motion, his eyes fearfully falling upon the silent tank on the far side of the chamber.
Rosalyn immediately fell quiet, wondering how the tall container of some calm, viscous liquid could have possibly incited such a reaction in him.
"Hello," he replied in a very, very low voice, after a few seconds of strained silence and half-expectant staring at the tank. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter. What's your name?"
She propped herself up on an elbow, refusing to believe that she was actually gaining someone's acquaintance when lying flat on the floor.
The young witch also determinedly ignored the little fact that the boy had identified himself as a Potter, despite her not recognising him at all.
"Rosalyn Potter. A pleasure to meet you," she said in an equally low voice, stretching out her free hand for him to shake.
He took it with an utterly bewildered mien, giving her hand a brief squeeze and a single shake before releasing.
And then his gaze fell upon her mother and Neville — who were both staring at him and his companions incredulously — and the staring match of before resumed, though, this time, with different individuals participating.
Rosalyn sighed.
She could feel a long conversation coming in the very near future.
~ooOOooOOOooOOoo~
Author's Note:
28/08/2020
Okay, the second chapter is done now. Stay tuned for more updates. :)
Cheers,
Avaxius