Dipper ran like a man possessed, reflexively sliding between the legs of a petrified party guest as he made his way to a convenient stump. Ordinarily, he would have congratulated himself on such a cool move, but right now he had a mission.

"Hey ghost!" He called, brandishing a silver dinner tray like a shield. "Prepare to be-"

Wham!

A bolt of ectoplasmic energy knocked his impromptu weapon from his hand, followed quickly by a second wave of powerful magic. Dipper didn't even have to look down to know what was happening.

"No, nonono. Someone help, someone HEEELP!-"

As the enchanted wood engulfed his face, Dipper's mind wandered to the last major monster he'd beaten, and it's final words as it taunted Dipper with his own horrified face.

"This will be the last form you ever take!"

"Our family name is broken! And I'm gonna fix it!"

Using the last of her willpower, Pacifica yanked the lever downward, collapsing to the ground as the objects of the Lumberjack's obsession began their slow, overdramatic movement.

"Yes, it's happening!" The specter once known as Archibald Corduroy bellowed jubilantly as the grand gates finally opened after 150 long years. "My heart, once as hard as oak, now grows soft like...more of a birch or something." Smiling in triumph, the ghost raised his arms to lift his forest curse.

Nothing happened.

He tried again, this time snapping his fingers for emphasis. The statues stayed statues..

"Why isn't this working?" Archibald thought as he once again willed his power to disperse. "You are my creepy cursed statues, and you will obey me!" As he glared at his deathly forest, his eyes fell on the Northwest's needlessly expensive grandfather clock.

"Oh no…."

"What's the big idea?' Pacifica demanded as she struggled to her feet, "You said you'd change everyone back!"

The ghost looked sadly at the confused young heiress.

"You broke the chain, you helped me heal." He intoned somberly, gesturing to the clock.

"But midnight has struck. Their fate...is sealed."

"What? No. Stop rhyming and fix this!" Pacifica insisted. "There has to be something you can do!"

"I cannot." Archibald replied, "The laws of magic are very specific. For some reason the time limit is always midnight!" The spirit had the decency to look ashamed. "I'm sorry Pacifica. You aren't like the others, you didn't deserve this."

With that, he vanished, leaving Pacifica staring despondently into Dipper's dead wooden eyes.

The worst part, Pacifica decided, was her parents. It hadn't been 2 hours since the disaster, and her father had already activated the Northwest PR machine, ordering newspapers to paint the attack as a "freak sewer gas accident." Meanwhile, her mother, before remembering Pacifica was supposed to be being punished, suggested "A nice new CyPhone to get your mind off of this...unpleasantness."

That night, as she lay in her room at the Hôtel des Bourgeois, cursing herself more violently than any ghost could dream of, she heard her father's voice from the next room.

"No, no no! Don't you understand? I need the removal crew there tomorrow! I refuse to let this setback keep us away from our rightful home any longer. I can't stand living in this squalor!"

"Removal crew? He's going to-" Pacifica felt nauseous. In her mind's eye flashed image after image of Dipper being carted off by men in hard hats, hacked to pieces with a chainsaw, torched to nothing with a flamethrower, crushed under a bulldozer…

Shuddering, she hugged Dipper's journal to her chest. Then in a sudden burst of anger, she hurled it to the floor.

"Where were you when he died, huh? Isn't there some kind of magic that could have saved him?"

Great, now she was talking to a book.

Ashamed of her tantrum, she crawled out of bed to recover her tragic keepsake. As she turned it over, she did a double take at the page it had landed on.

UPDATE! TIME TRAVEL ACTUALLY IS REAL!

Not only had she been talking to a book, it had answered.