A/N: I apologize for not updating for about a month, but I want to make as few mistakes as possible this late in the story as the plot gets really complicated. Any major plot holes, please please please point them out to me!! Any questions you have I'll try to answer, either in the last chapters of the story or in an e-mail to you. I can't promise I'll get to everyone but my hope is that in the next chapter Dumbledore will be able to explain things adequately enough to satisfy you all. I also apologize for lacking romance in this chapter. The plot took precedence I'm afraid.
Additional Note for Loyal Reviewers: I know I don't usually thank reviewers in my A/N, but serious shout-outs to all of you, particularly those of you who review every chapter and write more than, "Update soon!", which is flattering, but not very helpful. I do read my reviews, all of them, and they are so encouraging and helpful!! I really do enjoy your questions and comments regarding plot and characters, and hope I will be able to answer most of your questions when I complete the story. Thanks, by the by, for leaving nearly one-hundred reviews for the last chapter alone! I was surprised and deeply flattered!
Additional THANKS to XunFoRgEtTaBlEbAbEX for the many questions that have been my guiding light as I navigate the choppy waters of a ridiculously complicated plot. She's genius, ladies and gentlemen, and deserves many pats on the back for all the help she's given me. She's also kindly agreed to quasi-beta, and then fully-beta for me (I do know how to make things difficult, don't I?), so kudos and many thanks and Bertie Botts to her!!
I'd also like to thank Darcel for pointing out that Blaise is a confirmed male in J.K.R.'s books. I appreciate the knowledge but respectfully submit that it's a bit late to change genders for this story
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Disclaimer: We solemnly swear we are up to no good … (of course it's not ours!).
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Ginny blinked – blinked again – at Cedric's speech.
Avalon. They had reached Avalon! After everything – all the danger of discovery by their elder selves, the run-ins with fearsome magical creatures, and the constant paranoia inevitably associated with Red Robes – they had arrived.
They were safe at last.
Ginny couldn't help smiling in relief at Cedric's words.
"About time, too," came Harry's distinctly smiling voice from somewhere to her left.
Ginny at last opened her eyes, having kept them closed after her engulfment in the silvery light of the mirror. She saw Dorian to her immediate left, and his smile of relief and ever-present eagerness matched her own. Just passed him, she could make out Hayden, who was pinned to the ground beneath Tristy, who by her own admission did not seem able to release him. Beyond them Cedric and Harry were getting to their feet, the latter offering a hand to Blaise who was looking warily around.
"You going to lie there all day, Weasley?" came a saucy voice from her right. She turned to see Draco on his hands and knees, looking as bedraggled and wet as she felt from their occasional pummeling by waves.
Waves!
Ginny pushed herself quickly up and turned to look toward the water. What she saw made her gasp. It was a body of water, stretching to the horizon. It looked utterly still and was illuminating by the now-set sun with an odd afterglow that made it look almost black. It was oddly smooth, which made Ginny momentarily wonder where the waves had come from, when from no probable cause another breaker surged forward and soaked those still on the ground. Ginny herself sputtered as salty water tickled her lips.
"For Merlin's sake, Gin!" Strong hands settled on her waist and pulled her to her feet. Ginny grasped at the long, pale fingers to support herself against a sudden wave of dizziness. How long had their transport from Glastonbury taken? Surely not that long, as the sun was still glowing faintly from behind the horizon. Besides which, Avalon was supposed to be on, in, or near Glastonbury.
Blinking the wavering ocean view from her eyes, she turned to look at Draco. She couldn't quite read his expression, but his voice conveyed suppressed relief. Reaching Avalon had clearly taken a load off his mind as well.
"Thanks," she said simply, keeping hold of his hand and turning again to stare at the vast sea before them. "Cedric," she called down the line without turning, "what's this body of water? It's not an ocean, is it?"
When she received no response, she turned to look curiously at him. He didn't appear to have heard her, as his attention was otherwise engaged by something behind them. Harry was also squinting up the beach and Blaise, Ginny noticed with no little surprise, was looking increasingly uneasy.
Ginny turned to look. A figure was coming toward them from beneath the shadows of massive trees that bordered the bank of the beach. Ginny couldn't make out any of the person's features, but the slight swagger in gate suggested that this was a woman. A short ways behind this figure came another, who looked rather prone to loping along like an adolescent boy.
"Who . . . ?" Draco began, his hand tightening unconsciously around hers.
"Gofers of Dumbledore's?" Ginny hazarded.
"Or something," Draco muttered and suddenly his wand was in his free hand. Ginny reached around and with some difficulty extracted her own from a side pocket in her backpack, which she allowed to drop behind her onto the rocky beach.
"You don't think it's Red Robes?" she hissed, feeling her palms moisten with nerves.
"Red Robes wouldn't make such an obvious approach," Draco countered, for once seeming to forget to inject some sarcasm into his voice as he let his pack fall beside Ginny's.
"Unless he knew we had nowhere else to run," Dorian, who had at last gained his feet, spoke. Ginny saw his own wand dangling from his sleeve.
"What're you all staring at?" Tristy had at last released Hayden and was pulling him to his feet. The two turned to follow the unwavering gazes of the others. The instant Hayden's eyes fell on the approaching, still shadowed, figures he pushed Tristy behind him and withdrew his own wand, which he'd evidently had stored in his pocket. Ginny felt a fresh sense of pride at her son's courage and loyalty to those he loved.
"Get off, Hayden!" Tristy's voice was annoyed, and a little embarrassed. Her own wand – a Caduceus identical to the one Blaise now held – was suddenly clutched tightly in her fist. Hayden gave a grunt of disapproval as Tristy stepped up beside him, but did not make any further objection. Evidently he'd learned something about his comely enemy-turned-whatever during their trek through the country.
A moment of tense silence followed this exchange as everyone watched the approaching strangers. At last, they stepped from the heavy shadows of the thick wood and came more sharply into focus. Ginny barely had time to process that they were indeed a man and woman when Blaise gave a sudden gasp, her expression one of surprise and, for some reason, fear. A second later, Cedric reacted, although his reaction caused the others to stare at him in amazement.
"Oh, thank Merlin – Mum!"
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Tristan felt her eyes widen and her stomach plummet to her feet. She turned right around to gape at her brother.
"What did you say!?" she demanded.
"It's okay," Cedric said. He actually lowered his wand. "It's just mum."
"Just – Cedric!" Harry was staring at him, too, eyes as wide as Tristan's behind his own specs.
"Oh, my god!" Blaise said faintly, staring at the approaching woman and her companion in what Tristan recognized to be utter disbelief. "Kid," she added a moment later, clearly addressing Cedric, "you're mad!"
"No, no I'm not!" Cedric said, and to Tristan's immense disquiet, he actually laughed. It was a foreign sound to his little sister. "It's really mum!"
And to the wonder of them all, he took off up the beach toward the approaching figures.
"I don't – I don't believe it!" Tristan breathed, feeling the color drain from her face as she gazed at the woman whose features were still next to impossible to make out. "I don't believe it!"
"Tris," Hayden said from beside her, his voice awed. He didn't continue. He seemed at a loss for words.
What Cedric did next made them all gasp. As he neared the approaching pair, he said, "Mum! About time – I was worried we'd arrived too late!" And without further tidings, he threw his arms around her in a tight hug.
Tristan felt her gut return from her feet and clench, as her eyes inexplicably began to sting. There was something about the familiarity with which Cedric spoke about and to the woman who might or might not be their mother that was not at all consistent with someone who had spent most of his adolescence 'searching' for her.
"It's like – like they've only been separated a day," Dorian, who had come down the line to stand with his cousin and friend, murmured to Hayden, echoing Tristan's thoughts.
"Something's definitely not right about this," Hayden muttered, and Tristan felt his hand tighten protectively on her wrist. For once, she was grateful to him.
Beside them, her parents were talking.
"It's me, Potter!" her young mother was insisting in a tightly constrained voice. "I can feel it. It's really me!"
"But – but – " her father seemed to be finding it difficult to speak. "But what're you doing here?"
"Dunno," Blaise muttered back. Tristan saw her fingers tighten around the Caduceus clutched in her white-knuckled hand. "But our son doesn't seem nearly surprised enough about this for my taste."
"I told you," came Uncle Draco's menacing voice from down the line where he stood beside at wide-eyed Aunt Gin. "I told you lot that kid wasn't to be trusted."
"We don't yet know he isn't," came Blaise's abrupt retort, though she didn't sound nearly as sure of herself as usual. "Leave off my son, Draco."
After some of her other behavior during this trip no one was really shocked by this fierce response. Tristan's attention was called back to the now approaching party by the woman's voice – a voice that sent a thrill through her even as it stirred memories from her distant childhood.
" – sorry, love, but I've not got time to explain things to them right now," came the deep, rich tone that had once sung Tristan to sleep, had once to her stories of Quidditch and dragons and the adventures of a black-haired, scar-bearing wizard. "They're expected and we need to resolve this conflict now."
"All right," Cedric said. "But I want them to understand – I don't want them thinking the worse of any of us for what we have to do."
Tristan felt her insides clench again. That sounded ominous and again, not at all in keeping with someone who was supposed to be as ignorant as any of them to the mysteries of Avalon, Blaise Zabini, and the rest.
The group came to a halt before the bedraggled travelers and for the first time since she was five years old, Tristan got a good look at her mother.
Blaise was stunning, just as she was at seventeen. But experience and time had done much for her. The sharp expression of the sometimes purple, sometimes sapphire eyes was softened into intelligent observation. The dark hair was lighter, looking almost sun-kissed with highlights. Her figure, though well formed and voluptuous as ever, looked more becoming in the simple tunic she'd wrapped herself in than the leathers her younger facsimile had borrowed for the journey.
Tristan noticed all this in the space of a few seconds, even as she tried to discover how she felt about being reunited with the woman again after her abandonment as a small child. Tristan knew what she would have felt had she not gotten to know her mum's younger self, but now . . .
Tristan tore her eyes away as the sting was joined by a burning in her throat. All these years and now here she was, standing before the woman whom, not a week ago, she'd admitted to wanting back in her life so desperately. She blinked and blinked again, determined that her tears would not leave her eyes. She felt Dorian's arm go around her shoulders in a protective gesture, copied a moment later by Hayden's arm wrapping around her waist. Without thinking, Tristan turned her head and buried it in the blonde's shoulder, wanting to hide the tears she could no longer contain.
"Tristan."
That voice, as it spoke her name, made Tristan's heart leap in anticipation and memory. Slowly, she pulled her face away from Hayden, whose arm tightened around her. She found herself staring into that face so like and unlike her own. But it was the expression on that face that made her heart skip. It was an expression that Blaise's younger self had just begun to wear that night in London when they had talked by the window. It was a look so full of achingly powerful love that Tristan felt almost drowned in it.
"My little Tristy," her mum whispered, her own voice hoarse. A graceful hand reached out to gently caress Tristan's tearstained face.
"Get your hand off her," came a shaking voice from Tristan's right. She turned to see her father glaring with such loathing, such anger as she had never seen on his younger facsimile before. It was an expression that spoke of betrayal and distrust. Below that, there was hurt. Great hurt.
"Harry," the woman before Tristan said softly, her eyes widening briefly as she took in the countenance of her younger self and her future husband.
"You heard him," came the younger Blaise from beside him. Her eyes were blazing, her face pale and furious. "You're not her mum. Leave her alone."
Far from looking offended, the elder Zabini closed her eyes with a look so reminiscent of regret that Tristan wanted to go to her. Her brother got there first. With an arm around his mother, he said sharply, "Mum, dad, it's not like that at all. I can explain everything."
"You lied to us, Ced," Dorian said, sounding both disbelieving and hurt. "You said you didn't know anything about where Aunt Blaise had gone or about Avalon."
Tristan felt a fresh sting of tears, though this time caused by an abrupt sense of betrayal. If Cedric could explain all this, then he'd known where their mum was – how to get to Avalon – all along. He'd known about their mum and never told Tristan – never allowed her the relief of understanding why she'd been abandoned.
What else was he hiding from his too-trusting kid sister?
"We haven't time for this, Ced," came the quiet voice of the man standing just behind them.
"Neville Longbottom, I presume," Harry cut in softly, his eyes narrowing. The look of disbelief and betrayal on his face made Tristan flinch, but she could hardly blame him. Her mum had by all accounts left him for the tall, though rather heavy man standing silent before them.
"Harry," the man nodded, his eyes apologetic, but not intimidated under the host of unpleasant looks he had just drawn from Blaise to himself. He continued. "There really is an explanation for all this, I promise you. But we really haven't time right now. We need to get you to Dumbledore – he can explain everything."
The mention of Dumbledore's name had the desired effect. Harry's face lost much of its volatility and the younger Blaise regained a bit of color in her pallid cheeks.
"So he's really here?" she demanded.
"And waiting for you," her elder self confirmed. "We need to take you to him – and quickly."
"Why the rush?" Aunt Gin, who had been silent throughout the entire exchange, asked rather timidly.
"He can explain everything to you and he thinks he can straighten this whole mess out," Longbottom told her, with a small smile. "Good to see you again, Gin."
Tristan's aunt's face split into a reluctant, though genuine smile.
"You as well, Nev," she said softly, ignoring the outraged looks she was receiving from half the group.
"This way," the elder Blaise said, her voice suddenly crisp and businesslike, turning and leading the way back up the beach. Cedric stayed by her side, with one sidelong look at his little sister. Tristan sent him an unforgiving glare, keeping her station between Hayden and Dorian. As if in silent understanding, each of them reached for one of her hands. She pocketed her Caduceus, accepting their hands and their temporarily renewed friendship.
Blaise led the group back toward the trees through which she and Longbottom had come by way of a narrow path. The sky overhead, though not directly lit by the sun, didn't seem to be losing any of its light. On the contrary, the large, dark clouds overhead appeared to be holding the remaining light in check.
"Blaise – look." Tristan's father was calling the younger Blaise's attention to the land to their left. Though the whole lining of the beach's bank was tree-lined it was easy to see that the trees ascended a very sharp incline, like a steep hillside. They rose away into the distance, ending in a visible clearing at the hill's crest.
"Is this the tor?" Blaise hissed, staring after Harry's pointing finger.
"That looks an awful lot like the tower up there, doesn't it?" Harry returned. "Remember what my brochure thing said: Glastonbury proper used to be entirely under water. And Avalon is supposed to be an island in the middle of the sea – or a giant lake. It's possible that the tor was the only land above water at one time."
"How is a giant sea or lake or whatever being concealed?" Blaise demanded. "Surely we haven't gone back in time."
"No, I don't think so," Harry said. He paused, and then finished simply. "I think Avalon is just a very, very magical place. Merlin himself was supposedly here a lot."
Uncle Draco gave a snort from behind them. He and Aunt Gin, Tristan noticed, were staying decidedly detached from the Potter family's tension. To her aunt did Tristan attribute this delicacy. She was probably remembering her own first encounters with her future self and probably also sympathizing with Tristan's situation.
Tristan herself hardly knew what she felt. She wanted to be near the woman who was her mother, though whether to strangle her or cry in her arms like a baby she didn't know. She did want to talk to her, that much she knew. She had to know why Blaise had left them, whether the reason was indeed an affair with Longbottom or something more substantial.
Surely their involvement with Dumbledore has something to do with this, Tristan thought.
"Tris, where're you going?" Dorian demanded. Tristan suddenly realized that she had pulled her hands away from the boys and taken two long strides ahead of them. Without answering, she pushed passed her younger parents and jogged to catch up with her brother and mum.
"Someone mind telling me what's going on?" she asked, rather snarkily.
"Tristy," Cedric said, his voice irritatingly patronizing as well as warning.
"Don't you talk to me like that!" she bit out. "You've obviously been going behind my back – no, shut it, I don't care whether you were protecting me or not, Ced. Actually, I'm sick to death of everyone trying to protect me. Mum," she addressed the elder woman, whose intense eyes had been trained on her since she'd joined them. "Tell me what the hell is going on or I'll not go a step further."
And she stopped along the side of the path, cross her arms defiantly.
"Tristy, love," her mother said, stopping as well to face her and looking suddenly weary. "I promise you I'll explain everything, but we must reach the tor first. You have to see Dumbledore – we all do."
"Explain to me why I should believe your promises," Tristan snapped, a flash of resentment lighting her eyes.
"Because I am your mother," the woman said, her own eyes flashing. "And I'm telling you that I'll keep my word. I'm also telling you to start walking, young lady. We haven't time for games."
"My mum," Tristan shot back viciously, indicating the younger version of Blaise, "has so far given me no such order. When she does, I'll move without objection."
The bite clearly hurt – Tristan could see the elder Blaise wince faintly, while the younger looked surprised and rather touched at this claim of deference to her authority. She did not, however, order her daughter to keep walking. She pursed her lips and stared expectantly at her elder self.
Either she was tired of arguing or she knew it was fruitless, because the elder Zabini sighed heavily.
"Compromise?" she suggested. "Can we walk while I talk? I'll tell you what I know if you promise to keep your feet moving until we reach the tower. Deal?"
Tristan decided she wasn't going to get a better offer and nodded curtly. She was about to step back onto the path when she felt something on her wrist. At first she thought it was Hayden's hand – he stood nearest her right side – but when she was suddenly jerked violently backward, she realized too late that the hand did not belong to anyone in their party.
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"Tristy!" nine voices shouted simultaneously. Four figures made to dive straight into the woods, but were held back by five others. Before anyone could speak, Tristy and the person clutching her wrist had vanished into the dark forest.
"No!" The elder Blaise had found her voice. "They're gone for now. If any of the rest of you go in there, you'll be lost forever! You've got to stay on the path." Even as she spoke, Harry could hear the panic in her own voice.
"But we've got to save her!" Hayden hollered, looking almost wild himself.
"We can't do it by acting rashly, kid!" Cedric snapped, though his own voice was shaky. "We've got to get to Dumbledore!"
"What about – ?" the younger Blaise began tremulously.
"They can't leave Avalon without one of the gateways being opened from within," Blaise assured herself firmly. "And the only people who can open the gates are myself, Neville, and Dumbledore."
"But what if whoever that was hurts her?" Ginny asked anxiously.
"Or kills her," Draco added quietly. To Harry's great surprise, he was looking slightly alarmed himself.
"If they'd wanted to kill her, they'd have done it!" the elder Blaise snapped. "Come on!"
They followed her silently up the path, mostly still in shock. Harry couldn't believe it – his daughter had been taken! After all their safety precautions, after everything they'd been through . . . and it was here, of all places! Here in Avalon where they were supposed to be safe at last.
"Who – who was that?" Hayden stammered. He sounded stunned and Harry noticed upon closer inspection that the younger Malfoy was being pulled up the path by a wide-eyed Dorian.
"It was Red Robes, wasn't it?" Ginny said shakily, her eyes flickering nervously over her shoulder.
"That's not possible, though," Cedric mumbled, looking shaken himself. "Dumbledore's wards were set up to protect anyone in our bloodline who entered Avalon . . . " His voice trailed off and he shook his head hopelessly. "Mum?"
"There was a change of plan. Anyway, don't worry. They're not leaving Avalon," she told him. "Hurry it up. We need to see Dumbledore."
They climbed the rest of the way in silence. Despite the fact that he and Blaise had done this exact climb earlier in the day, it felt new and somehow much longer to Harry. Perhaps because the path twisted and wound its way through the forest and left no gaps through which to see the tower.
Or perhaps it was because every second's delay carried his daughter into graver and graver danger. Harry's stomach tightened and he felt anger and frustration fill his legs, seeming to speed his climb. The sooner they reached Dumbledore, the sooner his little girl might be found and recovered. He didn't want to think about Tristy's last encounter with Red Robes.
"She'll be all right," Blaise murmured from his side. "She – " indicating her elder duplicate – "is right. If Red Robes wanted Tristy dead, he'd have killed her."
"So he wants her for ransom," Harry muttered, glaring at nothing and silently urging those in front of him to speed their climb.
"I can't bloody believe this!" Draco was saying behind him. "After all this time, we think we're safe – and suddenly it all goes to the dogs! Hell, I was even starting to like the kid!"
Despite his dark mood, Harry felt a smile tug at his lips. For Draco Malfoy to start feeling something, however remotely akin to affection, for Tristan Potter, suggested that great change was occurring in some quarter.
"Who is he, that's what I want to know," Ginny said.
"Who, Gin?" Harry asked.
"Red Robes!" Ginny said, soundly frustrated. "I mean, we all kind of assume he's out to get us – "
"Possibly because he threatened to kill us in the Astronomy Tower," Draco pointed out dryly.
"Right, but it might have been just to get us out of the way," Harry said, catching Ginny's meaning. "Since our arrival here, we've only seen him once and he wasn't threatening us then. He was – " Harry paused, trying to think of the right words as he remembered the visage of the hooded figure on the Malfoy family's Quidditch pitch.
"Just watching," Blaise finished, her own expression thoughtful. "And if he had access to the Malfoy Estate, he might have found a way to break into the house if he still wanted us dead."
"You think he let us get ahead and followed us here?" Hayden demanded.
"You have to admit, for someone capable of stealing a Time Turner and committing murder under Albus Dumbledore's nose, tracking us down shouldn't have been that difficult," Draco agreed. "Let's face it – he's had ample opportunity to kill any or all of us if that had been his plan. So then. What might his other motives have been?"
"Well," Dorian said, sounding uncomfortable. "He did just run off with Tristy, didn't he? And he – he killed Hayden and Tristy once before."
"I don't think we'll need to speculate for much longer," Ginny cut in, pointing up the trail.
She was right. About twenty meters ahead there was an opening in the dense line of trees that allowed for a limited view of an open meadow and the bottom of the tower.
"Come on," the elder Blaise said, quickening her pace. "We're short on time."
"I'm eager to see Dumbledore and all, but what's with this time constraint?" her younger facsimile muttered to Harry.
"No idea," Harry returned quietly, lengthening his strides to keep up with Blaise, Cedric, and Neville. "But I'm quite interested in getting some answers. Not to mention getting our daughter back."
Blaise's face paled, her expression darkening.
"I wonder what the ransom will be," she hissed. She gave a frustrated huff. "If we even had an idea, we might be able to figure out why Red Robes has been tracking us in the first place."
"Assuming that was Red Robes who snatched her," Dorian said hesitantly from behind her.
"It was." The three jumped as Neville addressed them. "No one else is in Avalon right now."
"But how did Red Robes get in, Longbottom?" Draco called.
"He was let in," Neville said shortly.
"What?" six voices said simultaneously. Six feet stopped walking and six pairs of eyes widened in horror.
"Come on," Blaise snapped, pausing herself and turning to glare at them. "Everything will be explained to you when we get to the tower."
"Trust her - she knows what she's doing," Cedric assured them, though he looked a bit puzzled himself. He turned back and jogged to catch up with him mum, whose strides had lengthened determinedly.
"I really don't like this," Ginny whispered anxiously as they all began walking again, albeit reluctantly. "'Just wait till we reach the tower and all your questions will be answered.' This is getting kinda scary."
"You said it," her son agreed. "Hey," he added a moment later, "what if Dumbledore isn't here?"
"We've come too far to turn back now, even if we wanted to," Ginny said. "Look, I've known Neville for years and I don't think he'd get involved in anything underhanded. He was a Gryffindor and he's always had a sense of honor."
"And Cedric is Tristy's most loyal defender," Dorian agreed slowly. "His priority is keeping Tristy safe. And we're his blood brothers – " indicating himself and Hayden – "and you don't swap blood and then turn on a bloke."
As he spoke they came through the gap in the trees and into a vast grassy field that was filled with the same white flowers Harry had seen on the tree on Wearyman's Hill. The field seemed an ocean of pure, pure white. At the very center of the field sat the tower, although it looked different from the tower on Glastonbury Tor. It looked as though it made up one corner of a stone courtyard.
"Welcome to the Sanctuary Temple of Avalon," the elder Blaise said softly. "Come. We need to get inside."
Harry followed her, feeling an inexplicable sense of relief at the sight of the temple. It felt safe in a way the narrow trail through the woods most certainly had not. He could only hope whomever awaited them within was friendly.
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For several minutes after she had been snatched off the trail, Tristan felt as though she was floating through a dark tunnel. So dense were the trees that she could only make out indistinct shapes of trunks as they rushed by. She had no idea how she was being supported, but the forceful grip on her wrist remained, cold and smooth. The icy hand sent a shiver through her that rendered her incapable of speech. She could feel the air rushing passed and knew they must be traveling quickly.
At last, a faint light began to show ahead of them. Abruptly, Tristan felt her feet hit the ground. She stumbled, but the grip on her wrist yanked her up and pulled her into a noisy run through unseen underbrush. The light was almost like a tunnel though the dark wood and as they ran, Tristan tried to glance around, to get some idea of where they might be in relation to the tower they'd been heading toward. But she couldn't make out anything beyond a rush of bush and tree.
"Hurry," the voice of her assailant snapped hoarsely, pulling her sharply forward. Tristan felt a stitch forming in her side, but quickened her pace.
At last, after what seemed an age of running, the pace slowed. Tristan could see that the light was, in fact, coming from a clearing up ahead. As they neared the perimeter of the tree cover, her abductor withdrew something long and thin from her sleeve – a wand, Tristan thought numbly – and pointed it at her.
"Silencio!" the voice hissed. Suddenly, the sound of Tristan's footfalls vanished. She cried out in surprise, staring down to make sure her feet were still there. With another cry, she realized that her cry had been soundless. She couldn't make a sound.
"Stop," the voice ordered, the grip on her wrist pulling her to a halt about a meter from the forest's edge and then pulled her to the ground. "Don't move. I've got my wand on you and if you put a toe out of line, you'll regret it."
Tristan stretched out flat on her stomach, which was in knots. She knew she wasn't going to be killed – yet. She was going to be used as leverage. But for what, that was the question. From her eye-level, she actually had a fairly good view of the clearing. It was more like a vast field, filled with those pure white flowers that she, Hayden, and Cedric had dropped into the well source.
Cedric.
Tristan felt a jolt of anger, of betrayal. He'd kept his knowledge of this place from her – had lied to her repeatedly, it appeared – and for how long? How long had he been in on their mother's plans, on her affair with Longbottom . . . ?
Tristan felt tears well in her eyes. With no one to see them, she let them slide unchecked down her cheeks. Suddenly she wished her father were there – her older father, the one who was hyper-overprotective. The one who loved her more than anything in the world. He had been right all along. He had been right about Blaise's betrayal. He had been right not to trust Cedric.
Tristan felt more tears dash her cheeks and wiped them away with her sleeve. It was as she tilted her head to remove her now foggy glasses that she noticed the wand her hooded assailant was holding to her head.
A Caduceus. Tristan could just see its white, intricate shape out of the corner of her eye. She felt her mouth fall open. She knew how rare Caducei were. She was the only witch at Hogwarts to carry one and knew her mum to be the only one in her day.
But – this couldn't be her mum. She'd seen both of them standing before her on the path right before she was taken.
She gasped (silently) as a hand pulled her specs from her limp hand. Fear filled her as her vision blurred.
"Allow me," said the voice of her captor. Tristan heard a rustle of material and a moment later her glasses were placed firmly back on her nose.
"You did get Potter's unfortunate vision gene, didn't you?" the voice said softly. With her specs back on, Tristan was able to turn and look up at the hooded figure seated beside her. "Pity. Zabini eyesight is usually superb."
Tristan glared at the hooded figure for a moment, feeling too resentful to take in what he'd said. Then it hit her. How did he know anything about her mother's family? She stared hard at him, trying to see passed the hood that hid the face. With the shadows cast by the forest contrasting with the light of the clearing, however, it was impossible to make out facial features –
It was then, as her eyes fell on the Caduceus again, which was clutched in the stranger's right hand and pointed straight at her, that she noticed a flicker of light over the cuff of the sleeve.
Red.
She sucked in a sharp breath. She supposed it wasn't all that surprising, though. She didn't know of anyone else who was out for her blood at the moment. The question was, how had Red Robes entered Avalon? Didn't that require special invitation from someone inside?
"Oh, no," she mumbled inaudibly. Someone had let Red Robes in. And her young parents, aunt and uncle, and friends were heading toward the tower now. What if whoever was in the tower was in league with Red Robes? Suppose her brother – it hurt to think it, but she couldn't put anything past him now – was leading them all into a trap? What if Dumbledore wasn't here at all?
Was it possible that her mum was in league with Red Robes?
Tristan's stinging eyes went from the red sleeve to the Caduceus. Might she be looking at her mum's wand, lent to her assassin for a brief time?
It suddenly occurred to Tristan that her own Caduceus was buried in her front pocket. Her front right pocket. The pocket farthest from Red Robes. Rendered silent as she was by the charm, her movements could only be seen, rather than heard. She glanced at her attacker again, but his gaze appeared to be fixed on the tower. Red Robe's Caduceus, unfortunately, was pointed right at her and she had little doubt, judging by how steadily it was aimed at her head, that its owner could cast a charm far faster than Tristan could get to her own wand in her present position.
She could, however, at least remove the silencing charm. It would simply require a firm grip on the wand, without any actual waving. And Red Robes would never hear the spell. Not that it would matter. If Tristan was going to be stuck here, she wanted to find out all she could about Red Robes, her mother, and Cedric.
And she couldn't ask if she couldn't talk.
Turning back and staring through the foliage between herself and the meadow, she let her right hand fall limply at her side, using her left to prop up her chin, her fingers curling to hide her mouth. Carefully, she slid her fingers over the handle of the Caduceus and said the counter curse firmly. It came out silently and she had no way of knowing if it had worked.
"Nice try, pet," came the voice of Red Robes, making her jump as a hand snaked over and plucked the Caduceus from her pocket. Her jumping was to a purpose, however, because the accompanying gasp she let out was clearly audible. Well, she didn't have her wand, but for the present, she had her vocal chords.
"I wasn't going to try and escape," she murmured shakily, prepared to bet that her nerves would cause her to babble. "You'd have been able to restrain me before I could get my wand out. I just wanted to be able to talk. Don't worry, I won't yell or anything. Since you're probably going to kill me in the end anyway, I just wanted to ask you some questions."
"Such as?" the voice said, and for the first time it struck Tristan that she couldn't tell whether the voice was male or female. They'd all been assuming Red Robes was male, but as her mother had pointed out, voices could be altered. Clearly, Red Robes' voice was so now to make it less obvious which gender it belonged to.
"Er – such as who you are," Tristan stammered, also uncomfortably aware of the Caduceus near her left temple. "Or what you want. Or why you kidnapped me. Or why you supposedly killed Hayden and me. Or how you knew that Zabinis almost always have perfect vision. Or why you wear tacky red robes. Or – "
"All right!" the voice said, sounding mildly irritated. "If you keep babbling like that, I will silence you again."
"Sorry," Tristan faltered, feeling more embarrassed by that threat than afraid of the consequences.
"I see you have also inherited the Zabini curiosity," the voice went on. "Most interesting."
"Who are you?" Tristan demanded. "How do you know so much about my mum's family."
"Quiet!" Red Robes hissed suddenly, the Caduceus connecting painfully with Tristan's temple. "Not a sound."
Tristan tore her eyes from the hood and looked back into the clearing. She nearly groaned in frustration and fear as her mum (both of them), followed closely by Cedric and the others, entered the meadow and headed for the tower courtyard at the center. She clenched her teeth, knowing that if she betrayed their position Red Robes would have little trouble dragging her back into those dark woods. She assumed that since no one had followed them after their flight that the woods were extremely dangerous.
There was also the fact that the elder Blaise kept insisting that they had little time. Perhaps they had felt it would be more prudent to wait for Red Robes' demands –
Which it appeared he was about to make. He tensed at the group neared the entrance to the courtyard.
"Up," he hissed at her the instant the group reached it, pulling her roughly to her feet and holding the Caduceus firmly against her temple. Tristan stood silent, waiting for – well, she didn't know what, but nothing good she was sure.
Cursing the stubborn nature that had gotten her into this unpleasant position, she waited for Red Robes to make his move.
()
Blaise felt a jolt of anticipation in her gut as they reached the stone archway that led into the courtyard. From what she could make of it at their present distance, it appeared to be a sort of garden, with vines crawling the walls and blooming with an assortment of the white flowers. Though differently shaped, Blaise noted the identical white hue in all of them with her sharp eyes.
"If we weren't in dire peril, I can't say I'd mind spending a few weeks here," Ginny murmured tensely from somewhere at the back of the group. "It's so peaceful."
"It was used as a monastery during Merlin's time," Longbottom informed her. "He often came to meditate. No magic was allowed within Avalon until it became a school of magic."
"Avalon was a school of magic?" Draco demanded incredulously.
"I thought it was a haven of Christianity," Harry said thoughtfully. "And typically, Christians condemned magic as demonic."
"Merlin helped guide Joseph of Arimathea to Avalon with the Holy Grail, which holds the blood of the Christian messiah, Jesus Christ," Longbottom explained. "In exchange, the monks protected the Grail while it remained in their power to do so. However, when King Arthur set out to seek it, Merlin and the monks knew that it must never fall into his hands, for such incredible power was great enough to corrupt the hearts of the best men. Anyway, Merlin concealed Avalon with heavy magic, the monks left for shores untainted by magic, and in order to keep the discovery of Avalon's real purpose a secret, Merlin instituted a school of magic in Avalon, thereby keeping the magical protective barriers strong and also preparing a steady flow of witches and wizards who could in turn train others and thus keep magical learning alive in the world. I understand Godric Gryffindor's great great great grandfather was one of Merlin's first students."
"Come." Blaise noted that her elder facsimile had quickened her pace. "Dumbledore's waiting."
The group followed her through the stone archway and into the courtyard. Blaise couldn't help agreeing with Ginny – it looked indeed like the sort of place in which one could feel restful. There was a peace in the air and Blaise paused to take a deep breath and a quick look around. The only light in the courtyard was that of a kind of twilight – day and night appeared to have little meaning in this place - hazy beams of light cast their liquidity in strips over the low stone benches set against the walls of the courtyard. The sky overhead appeared in deep, rain-burdened clouds that gave no signs of bursting, but opened a small enough hole to allow a single, defined ray of light to dance over the single, small willow that stood at the courtyard's center. Blaise stared at it. It seemed to be swaying in a similar way that she'd seen the Whomping Willow do. But perhaps it was only a trick of the ethereal light.
"Yes, indeed, it is moving, Miss Zabini," came a familiar, vaguely mischievous voice from the opposite end of the courtyard. "It is infused with the magic of wizards, beginning with Merlin and carrying on through the ages."
All of them, except the elder Blaise and Longbottom, jumped. Albus Dumbledore stepped from concealment behind a pillar and into their path.
"Professor," Harry breathed, his voice echoing the relief all of them must have felt. "Er – it's great to see you, sir."
"Under different circumstances, I would echo your sentiment wholeheartedly, Harry," the old man said. He looked very much as Blaise remembered him from her time. Though an increase in wrinkles around the eyes and mouth was apparent, the hair was the same pure, glossy white that it had been for the last half-century. He was a bit stooped over now, but his eyes remained sharp and there was still an indefinable air of power around him.
"Sir, Red Robes has taken Tristy," Hayden cut in abruptly. He looked rather awed by Dumbledore (whom he'd evidently never met), but he also looked worried and upset. Blaise saw Draco swallow a smirk and realized how nonsensical Hayden's statement had been. Dumbledore had probably heard of Tristan from her mother, but how would he know that they had named their pursuer "Red Robes"? It was a pretty silly nickname, really.
"I'm aware of that," Dumbledore said, any mischievous light dimming in his eyes as they grew serious. "I had hoped to hear your tale from start to finish so that I may understand it all, but I'm afraid there just isn't time."
"Can you explain what you know to us, sir?" Ginny asked. "I mean, do you know who Red Robes is?"
"I am aware of the person, but unaware of his or her identity," the old man said wearily. "I'm also aware of what he or she seeks. But I'm afraid the story is too long. All I have time to tell you is that you do not belong here and setting things right will depend entirely on you returning to your proper time. It is only fortunate that Harry's letter to me several weeks ago alerted me to your presence here and made me better able to prepare for your return home."
"But – but, sir!" Harry sounded desperate. "We have to save Tristy and Hayden, sir. I mean, we came here to prevent their murder."
"And in doing so may cause far worse than two murders, Harry," Dumbledore said, rather sharply. "Overlooking the fact that you are here expressly against my orders to do nothing with regard to the children – "
"Wait – you know about all that?" Draco demanded.
"Of course," Dumbledore said. "I knew the instant you left Hogwarts twenty-three years ago and where you must have gone."
"How, sir?" Dorian asked curiously.
"It is too complicated to explain fully; suffice it to say that your coming into the future opened another possible future and when that happened, the bodies in my office vanished."
"Our bodies?" Hayden asked nervously.
"Indeed." Dumbledore moved briskly toward them. "But we must get outside. You four must be sent to your proper time, and quickly. You must be gone before Tristan's assailant arrives."
"But – " Ginny, Harry, and Blaise all began. Draco pursed his lips.
"I promise you that your continuance in a time that is not yours is doing more harm than good," Dumbledore told them. He looked almost sympathetic. "I know you wish to help, but I assure you that the longer you stay the more you endanger the lives of those you wish to save. Come, into the field. The particular magic of that tree you were watching, Miss Zabini, prevents me performing the necessary magic within the courtyard."
They followed in silence. Blaise glanced at Harry's face and saw it riddled with guilt. She knew his first thought when coming into the future had been to protect his daughter – naturally his intentions had always been good.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions, she thought, feeling her own gnawing culpability. If Harry had come by himself, it would have been so much less complicated. Perhaps Harry could have delivered his warning and left without throwing things into such confusion or luring Red Robes right to Dumbledore's hideout.
But someone let him in, Blaise thought suddenly.
"Sir," she said. "Is it true that Red Robes is only here because he was invited in by someone else?"
"That is correct, Miss Zabini," Dumbledore said, leading the way back through the courtyard's doorway.
"Well, who was it, then?" she demanded. "Longbottom said that the only people in Avalon are the ones right here."
"Neville is quite right," Dumbledore said simply. "But to tell you would require me to explain a great deal and we haven't much time."
"You have even less than you think," came a cold voice from the opposite side of the clearing. They all whirled around. There, at the edge of the wood, stood Red Robes, his wand pressed against Tristan's temple. He was using the girl as a shield, pinning her against him with his free arm.
Hayden and Harry both stepped desperately forward, but were restrained by Dumbledore's and Longbottom's arms.
"Not like this," Longbottom murmured to Harry. "Take it easy."
Harry relaxed, but only slightly. His eyes were trained on his daughter with a pained expression.
"That's right; no one come any closer," Red Robes said, almost idly. "Or little Tristy and I take a ride." And so saying, he raised the hand pinning Tristy to him and revealed the Time Turner grasped in it. Poised as it was, the slightest shake would turn it and carry Tristan to who-knew-when. Blaise saw Tristan's lips purse and her eyes flickered to the wand and then down at the Time Turner. She knew she was in trouble.
"What is it you want?" Blaise found herself snapping. "No one's in the mood for games right now."
"Indeed not," Red Robes said, turning his head to face her. "But I believe Dumbledore and Mrs. Potter there know exactly what I am here for."
"You can't have that, I'm afraid," Blaise's older self said firmly.
Blaise stared at herself. What was the woman talking about? Surely she didn't know what Red Robes was after.
"Ah, Mrs. Potter," Red Robes said, a faint note of amusement in his voice. "Surely your life for your daughter's is not such a price to pay."
Blaise felt her throat tighten. She wasn't sure what upset her more – the fact that her elder self knew exactly what Red Robes wanted or the fact that she didn't see fit to trade her own life for that of her child's.
"You know that it is much more than that," Dumbledore cut in quietly. "What you would ask is a power too vast for any man to tamper with."
"Oh, of course, but it is of such value to me," Red Robes said condescendingly. "Admirable though your sentiments are, I'm afraid I must have what I want one way or another. Your choice, Mrs. Potter."
Blaise watched her elder self. The woman looked almost unsure. Blaise couldn't believe the hesitation. This was only their daughter's life!
"Take me!" she said abruptly. "She may not be willing to go, but I am. Let Tristy go and take me instead."
"Blaise, no!" Harry said, grabbing her arm when she would have moved forward.
"If this saves Tristan's life, then I'm going to do it, Harry," she hissed, too angry to be afraid. Distantly, she felt a sort of astonishment. How this journey had changed her! "She's my daughter!"
Red Robes, meanwhile, was chuckling.
"That's very benevolent of you," he said softly. "Such noble intentions for a Slytherin – and a Zabini."
"You seem awfully interested in Zabinis," Tristan gritted out. "What's the obsession about?"
"Merely a passing interest in a once noble bloodline," Red Robes told her conversationally. "Anyway, you're off the hook, my dear – " addressing the younger Blaise – "I'm afraid your blood is not yet at its full potency. You're elder replica here, however – she is exactly of an age when the blood is most powerful. I'm afraid it must be Mrs. Potter – or Miss Potter's life."
There was a lengthy pause. Blaise didn't understand what Red Robes meant. She and her older self had identical blood. What did that have to do with anything? At last, Dumbledore spoke.
"The choice must be Mrs. Potter's," he said quietly. "Blaise?"
"Fine," she said, glaring at Red Robes. Longbottom caught her sleeve, but she pulled gently away. "Get them home, Nev," she said so softly that Red Robes probably didn't hear, nodding around at the group. "Make sure we get back to our right time and that my daughter is safely delivered back to her father."
Slowly, she began to cross the meadow toward her daughter. Red Robes released Tristan and the girl began to inch toward her mother. Blaise clenched her fists as she watched. Her wand was clamped tightly in her hand, ready to use if it appeared that any harm was going to come to her daughter. She saw Harry's own wand concealed in his hand and even Draco looked ready to draw should necessity dictate action.
"Albus . . . " came Longbottom's voice uncertainly. "We cannot let him have her! Think of the consequences."
"He must not be allowed to travel back with Blaise," Dumbledore murmured back, his eyes fixed upon Red Robes.
"We need a distraction," Cedric murmured, eyeing his mother anxiously. "Something to divert him and give Blaise enough time to get to him before he can travel back."
"These children must be sent back," Dumbledore said, and Blaise peripherally caught his gesture at herself and her companions from the past. "They must be gone before I can return Red Robes, as they call him. Neville, Cedric, you know what I must ask of you."
"We're prepared," Longbottom said, gripping his wand and nodding to Cedric.
Blaise was diverted from their conversation by the movements of her daughter. Tristan drew level with Blaise – they passed. Red Robes kept his wand trained on her, ready to cast out if anyone moved. Blaise was ten feet away, eight, five, when –
"Avada Kedavra!"
The younger Blaise gasped at the harsh voice in their midst. She jumped backward. Longbottom stood with his wand outstretched and pointing at –
Pointing at Draco!
He was dead.
He lay perfectly still and unblemished; his eyes not even betraying surprise that he'd had no time to feel.
"Oh – oh, my –" Ginny stared, horrified, at Draco.
"Gin, look out!" Harry snarled, diving sideways and knocking her over in time to receive a second killing curse, this one cast by his own son.
"Harry!" Blaise fell to her knees beside his lifeless form. She stared up at Cedric, absolutely shocked. "What the hell are you doing!?"
"I hope I will be able to explain that someday, Mum," the young man said, looking thoroughly miserable and raising his wand to point at her. Blaise stared back.
"Mum!" Tristan broke into a run across the field as she saw what was happening.
"Blaise!" Ginny cried, reaching out to her.
Dumbledore was closer.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The world vanished into darkness as Blaise died in a flash of harsh green light.
()
"No!" Tristan watched her mum fall to the ground. "No, no, no!"
She would have thrown herself down beside the woman, but was pulled away by her Aunt Gin. Dimly, through a haze of fury and pain roiling in her stomach, she noticed her brother staring at her with a look of abject regret in his eyes. She didn't think she'd ever loathed him as she did at that moment. This went beyond treachery – this had officially made him her enemy. Hayden and Dorian jumped away and placed themselves protectively in front of her. Hayden took a step forward to protect his mother, but she wouldn't let him.
Longbottom raised his wand, his eyes troubled but determined.
"Neville – no, please," Ginny stared at him in utter disbelief. Tristan had the impression that they had once been good friends. "Why –why are you doing this?"
"You can't be here, Gin," he said simply, although he looked genuinely sorry. "Trust me; it's for your own good."
"No!" Tristan felt Hayden trying to force his way in front of Aunt Gin, but the young woman wouldn't let him.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Ginny fell to the ground, her expression one of betrayal.
"Mum – mummy – no!" Hayden hit his knees beside the lifeless woman, taking her hand and bursting into completely undignified sobs.
"Blaise – he's getting away!" Dumbledore cried. Tristan, about to kneel beside Hayden, glanced numbly up in time to see the elder version of her mother draw her wand as Red Robes reached for the Time Turner that he'd evidently dropped in his surprise.
"Avada Kedavra!" Blaise shouted, her voice dark.
Tristan shuddered as Red Robes fell. The defeat of their enemy seemed relatively unimportant now that they appeared surrounded by backstabbing family.
"So," she said blankly, her hand resting beside Dorian's on Hayden's shaking back. "Which of us is next, then?"
"No one else will die here today," Dumbledore told her, staring sorrowfully at the forms on the ground.
"How could you?" Dorian demanded. "I mean – my god, that's the worst curse there is! Jesus, I thought they trusted you!"
"They could not continue here," the old man said softly. "I'm sorry – I know you became close during your journey here."
"So just because they broke the law – trying to save me and Hayden – " Tristan said jerkily, feeling fury heat my blood.
"No, Miss Potter, not just because they broke the law," Dumbledore told her. "On the contrary – Harry's rash actions have opened a way I did not see before of ending this conflict. It is indeed fortunate he owled me of his arrival. Now there is hope for us all."
"But did they have to die?" Hayden said, so softly that his voice was barely audible.
"What conflict?" Tristan snarled.
"Oh, yes, it was inevitable," Longbottom put in regretfully in answer to Hayden's question. "This was not their time and their presence here was doing little good."
"But with them gone," Tristan said slowly, her eyes turning dangerously from her approaching mother to her brother, who had remained silent throughout the confrontation, to Dumbledore. "We'll never be born because they don't exist anymore. You won't need to kill Hayden or I."
"Your deaths were not the doing of anyone here, I assure you," Dumbledore said firmly. "Like Mr. Potter, our goal was to protect you and many, many others."
"Some explanation," Dorian said resentfully.
"Suffice it to say," Dumbledore said slowly, "that our fates – all of them, very likely – will depend on the actions of Harry and his friends."
"Who are dead!" Hayden pointed out, dashing angrily at the tears on his pale face.
"In our time, indeed," Dumbledore said cryptically. "All we can do now is wait."
()
Twenty-three years prior to this exchange, at six-thirty in the morning, Harry Potter gave a shout and sat bolt upright in bed at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, clapping a hand to his scar.
()
TBC
P.S. Remember, the story's not over yet!