Potter47
Part Two
Wrinkling Time
"The times, they are a-changing."
Bob Dylan
Chapter Eight
Smoke and Tears
Ginny couldn't breathe. Harry was falling, falling, falling and she could not catch him--she could never catch him. She could never save him. He was falling forever into the black curtain, its fabric blowing in the wind, and billowing over his body like thick, dark smoke.
...and he was gone.
Ginny was on her feet in a moment, charging towards Voldemort--but then she wasn't. She was frozen in place, and there was a whisper at her ear:
"Please, Ginevra. Trust me."
Dumbledore's voice was so strained, so weak, it sounded as though he were a thousand years old. He seemed to be on the verge of tears, the verge of collapse.
Ginny wanted nothing more than to scream at him, but she had no voice at all.
"Come, Ginevra," said Dumbledore, "unless I am mistaken, there are times we need to see."
The words rang familiar in Ginny's ears, and the next thing she knew they were running, running, running towards the door. They were nearly trampled on the way, however, by Sirius Black, running the opposite way towards Voldemort. He seemed lost in a rage--he was firing spell after spell at the Dark Lord, who was--inexplicably--dodging them all, rather than firing anything back.
"Damn it," said Dumbledore, and Ginny wasn't sure if she'd ever heard him swear before. He stood stock still for a moment, watching the bright lights charging from Sirius towards the Dark Lord. Then, sounding more than unsure of himself, he said: "Go, Ginevra. I must stay here, with Sirius. Go."
Ginny was about to ask "Where?" but then, suddenly, she knew.
She ran. Up, up, up the benches to the top of the room, and out the door without another thought of what was going on behind her. She knew precisely what she had to do, the only thing that could save Harry--why hadn't she thought of it sooner?
"I believe... that that bell jar brings whoever it falls upon... to the precise years they need to see."
That was what Dumbledore had said, back in June. That was why the Jar had taken Harry and Ginny to the times that it had--and that was what Ginny must do now. The bell jar, of course, would take her to the time when she could save Harry... she needed to save Harry...
She ran, and ran, and finally she was in the Time Room. Through the countless desks and finally, at the end of the long room, there it was. Glittering upon its own desk stood the enormous jar that had started it all.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" shouted Ginny, and the jar raised itself, if only a few inches, from the desk on which it sat. She stood, bracing herself, just where she had stood before, and in another moment, she let it go--the crystal crashed down upon her, and the next moment, she was gone.
Slowly, the shards of glass reassembled themselves and stood regally upon the desk once more; the bell jar looked as though it had never been disturbed at all.
The world was full of green smoke, and when it cleared Ginny was just where she had been before--in the Time Room, at the Ministry of Magic. But she knew, this time, that something was different. She wondered just when she was.
She was about to head back to the Veil, to cut off Voldemort and save Harry--she could save Harry, yes, she could, she kept telling herself--when she received the shock of her life.
Tom Riddle stood before her, walking purposely towards the Bell Jar. For a moment she thought she was back in her Chamber--but then, a new thought occurred to her: perhaps the Bell Jar had taken her to a different time entirely.
But then, how could she save--
Her thoughts were cut short as Tom Riddle began to murmur to himself.
"So this is the great bell jar," he said, walking around it, inspecting it from all sides. It suddenly hit Ginny that this was the realTom Riddle--not the one in her mind, but the one she and Harry had met in 1945. The one who had kidnapped her, and whom Harry had saved her from. Twice.
What was he doing with the bell jar? Tom had known about the bell jar?
"I've heard so much about you," said Tom--and Ginny was terrified that he was speaking to her, until she remembered that she was invisible. No, Tom was speaking to the jar itself, as though it could hear him, as though it were alive. "How you took Dumbledore and that McGonagall back in time... to the times they needed to see."
He stared hard and intently at the bird inside the jar, as though it were going to answer him. Instead, it became an egg once again.
"What times do I need to see, Bell Jar?"--as though that were its name, not what it was--"What can you tell me about myself, I wonder?"
He gestured with his wand, quick and decisive, and the jar jumped up off of the desk, just as it had when Ginny herself had levitated it. And then it had crashed upon Riddle, and he was gone.
Where do I go now? wondered Ginny. But before she could think another thought, the world was full of green smoke once more--it seemed the Bell Jar had no use for patience, this time. It was taking Ginny to another time, once again--right now.
Sirius continued to fire spells at the Dark Lord, oblivious to the fact that he was accomplishing little more than a slight hike in the man's heart rate. He didn't care what was going to happen--Harry was gone.
"Murderer!" he shouted at Voldemort, who didn't seem to be listening--instead, he seemed to be smouldering with triumph--after all, he had just pushed Harry Potter through the veil.
"First Lily and James, and now--now--I'm going to rip you limb from limb!" said Sirius, alighting on an idea, and the next moment he was replaced by a big black dog, which charged down the remaining benches and leaped at the Dark Lord.
Now Voldemort was paying attention--he struggled to remove the dog's claws from his robes, and to keep his balance while Sirius tugged at him this way and that, finally managing to throw him completely off his balance. He fell off of the dias, landing on the stone floor with a painful-sounding thump.
"Stupefy!"
Before the dog could pounce on the Dark Lord once again, a jet of red light shot from somewhere and hit him square in the head. Lucius Malfoy descended from the benches hurriedly, to give the Dark Lord aid.
"My Lord, I told you you should have let me come with you--"
He extended a hand to the Dark Lord, who shook it off and struggled to rise to his feet by himself.
"Silence," he said to Malfoy. "There are more of them here, I can feel it." He held out a hand towards Malfoy's left arm. Malfoy extended it to him, drawing the robes away. Voldemort pressed a long finger to the Mark that glowed upon his skin, and Malfoy winced slightly.
"There will be a battle here tonight," hissed the Dark Lord. "The battle to end all battles--Harry Potter is dead, and it is time to claim victory, once and for all."
Voldemort and Malfoy basked in these words, the anticipation of such a battle coursing through every inch of them--behind them, however, as they awaited the other Death Eaters to appear, a most peculiar thing happened: the large, black, stunned dog began to float.
This would have been a particularly odd sight, if they had seen it--but indeed, they had not. Completely unnoticed, the dog floated limply over their heads and to one of the benches about halfway up the chamber, where it came to a soft landing beside a very invisible Albus Dumbledore.
"Sirius," whispered the very invisible Albus Dumbledore, nudging the dog with his wand. After a moment, its grey eyes blinked open, and it opened its mouth to bark--Dumbledore put a hand over his snout, however, and he remained silence.
"Sirius," Dumbledore said again, looking quite peculiar and yet utterly confident as he spoke to a canine, "you must alert the others, do you understand me? Go to the lobby, and use one of the Floos. I must stay here. Do you understand?"
The dog nodded silently, and slunk away--its tail disappeared through the Chamber's door just as the Death Eaters began to arrive.
Dumbledore watched the Dark Lord, silent and invisible from where he sat.
The green smoke was gone, and Ginny felt dizzy. She had fallen to the stone floor, and instead of standing, she held herself up on her arms, looking around. She was still in the Time Room, still beneath the sparkling shadow of the Bell Jar.
Suddenly, the door at the other end of the long room, past all the desks, flung open and hit the wall behind it, and Tom Riddle came striding angrily into the room. It took him what felt like forever to traverse the whole room, and Ginny took the time to scuttle herself around the edge of the desk that held the Jar, to get out of the way.
Finally, when he had reached this end of the room, he let out a strange, strangled yell at the Jar. It was quite shocking--little more eloquent than a troll, he grunted painfully at the Bell Jar and began to pace.
"What the bloody hell was THAT?" he cried, after a minute. "Give me some sort of a clue, Jar! Tell me what your purpose is to confuse and bewitch me as you've done! Tell me, Bell Jar!"
He looked about ready to grab the Jar around its middle and start shaking it. He was fuming, absolutely fuming at it--and in response, the bird within the jar merely continued its transformation, tranquil and peaceful.
He let out another huff and another puff, about ready to blow the house down when instead, he sat himself down. He sat on the floor not ten feet from where Ginny was doing just the same thing, and folded his arms upon his knees. He looked like he was counting to ten, doing anything to calm himself down.
"What did it mean?" he said, once again, more pathetic than angry. It was like he was consulting a fortune-teller, and the sparkling jar was just a crystal ball--or, rather, the teller itself.
Tom steepled his fingers. And then, before Ginny had a chance to get used to this strange imitation of Dumbledore, Tom Riddle said something that Ginny had not expected whatsoever:
"Harry Potter."
He said it with a strange sort of hesitation, as if testing the words in his mouth, seeing how they felt on his tongue. "Such a plain, ordinary sort of name," he murmured to himself. He looked up again at the Jar, still sitting, fingers still steepled unnaturally.
Then, he tried again:
"Harry Potter."
Another moment, Then:
"And who was the girl?" he asked. "Ginny...? Ginny, something, that was her name. Who is she?"
He stared at the Jar for a minute, and Ginny stared at him, open mouthed.
"ANSWER ME!" he shouted.
With a murmured "Fine," he stood once again and pointed his wand at the Jar again, and it began to hover. "I'll find out for myself," he said, and the dropped the Jar on himself once again.
The green smoke flooded Ginny's eyes, and she welcomed it this time--she wanted very badly to know where this story would take her next.
Ron sat in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place, wondering what the heck was going on. Or rather, trying to keep himself from wondering what the heck was going on, by merely concentrating upon the fire and not thinking about the utter confusion surrounding him.
This refuge was swiftly stolen from him, however, when Sirius Black's head appeared in that very fire.
"Ron," Sirius said, "it's time. Dumbledore's orders--everybody has got to come to the Ministry--Voldemort's here."
Ron winced, and his mouth fell open, unsure of what to say.
"Well go on!" barked Sirius. "There's no time to waste--this is it, Ron. There's going to be a battle. Is Snape back yet?"
Ron shook his head.
"Blast," said Sirius. "Well--get everybody, Moony, Moody, everybody--go!"
"I'm going," said Ron. "I'm going."
Sirius' head vanished, and the fire was empty once again.
The smoke was gone, and Tom was back in front of Ginny. He must've come back again, from whenever the Jar had taken him...
He was shouting at it again. Ginny wondered why he seemed so convinced it was listening, as it didn't respond at all.
"Tell me!" Voldemort shouted. "What does it mean, to change something? What have I done, Jar? What have you made me do?"
He looked around him, at the glittering shelves of Time-Turners, the shelves upon shelves of books about time.
"They all say," he said, gesturing towards the book shelves, "they all say that we've created a paradox. That the world would have collapsed in on itself, yes?" He opened his arms and turned in a circle. "That doesn't seem to have happened, does it?"
"What has happened?" asked Voldemort. "Did it really change? Has all that really happened, or will everything be just the way it was? Has this just been a vision? Have you been fooling me all along?"
There was a strange note in his voice, full of suspicion and betrayal.
Voldemort took a loud breath, almost a gasp, and then he closed his eyes, placing a hand on his forehead.
"It was so very real," he said quietly, his voice hollow and worn. "I felt the tear. I felt it. I felt something rip, something being torn in two. That's it, isn't it?"
"We tore something," said Voldemort, nodding. "But what did we tear? Time? This world? Myself?"
"You'll never tell me, will you?" asked Tom.
The Bell Jar was as silent as ever.
"Even after enormous upheavals and seemingly irrevocable changes,
the same pattern has always reasserted itself,
just as a gyroscope will always return to equilibrium,
however far it is pushed one way or the other."
Orwell
Coming Soon
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