Chapter 20

Allen woke up late. Weak sunlight came through the window, lighting up the carpet. His mouth tasted like dust and he was stiff all over. He groaned all the way to the shower and hoped he hadn't missed breakfast.

Turns out he had. It was noon, and lunch was being served. He plopped down at a vacant seat of the Ravenclaw table and started eating. He glanced around the hall, looking for Luna, hoping he hadn't missed her. Instead, he saw Hermione, who caught his gaze and made her way to the table, sitting across from him.

"Welcome back," she said, friendly but a little cautious.

Allen smiled. "Thanks," he replied, trying to be disarming. "Glad to be back."

Hermione pulled a bowl toward her and started ladling soup. "I saw an interesting article in the paper this morning. Apparently, the arson in Sheffield was just that—arson. The eyewitness was found to be unreliable, though the article didn't say why. The officer interviewed didn't give a whole lot of details, even for a media story." She met his eyes knowingly. "What would you know about that, Allen?"

Allen shrugged. "I know you're too smart for me to get away with anything."

"At least you're learning," she replied.

Allen chuckled. "So, anything exciting happen that I missed?"

"Slughorn's Christmas party was last night," she said. "I had to escape my partner because he kept trying to kiss me," she shuddered, "but Luna was there too. She was Harry's date. I haven't seen her so happy in a while; I think she had a lovely time."

Allen smiled. "I'm glad. Where is Luna, by the way?"

Hermione hummed in thought. "I think the Ravenclaws are still in class," she said. "She'll be out soon, though, if you want to wait."

"I'll do that, then."

They ate in companionable silence. Allen finished lunch, but didn't leave yet, still wanting to see Luna. A thought occurred to him.

"I saw Harry last night, when I got in," he said to Hermione. "He was spying on…um, Malfoy, and Snape. They were talking together but I didn't hear what, and Harry was jumpy when I caught him."

Hermione had stopped eating, her eyebrows creased in concern. "Harry still thinks Malfoy's up to something?"

"What do you mean, still?"

She set down her spoon. "Harry thinks Malfoy is…well, he thinks Malfoy's a Death Eater. He's got no evidence, just gut instinct."

"Are Harry's instincts usually wrong?" Allen asked.

"They have been," Hermione said, but she stopped, thinking. "It's a big accusation to make without evidence," she continued at last. "If it's true, it could put Malfoy in Azkaban. He's nasty, always has been, but he's never been more than a bully. I just can't imagine You-Know-Who recruiting underage wizards."

Allen chewed on his lip. "Just because you can't imagine it, doesn't mean it's not true," he replied quietly.

"I suppose," Hermione said charitably, but it seemed that was as far as she was willing to concede. "So, what happened while you were gone?"

Allen stirred food around on his plate, stalling. Many things had happened. At the top of the list was the fact that he was stranded in the future.

"Hermione, do you have any free time this afternoon?"

She nodded. "I have a free period. Why?"

"I want to look some things up in the library. Do you think you could help me?"

She put down her fork, surprised. "Sure, Allen. You want to meet here around three? I'll be done with classes by then."

"Yeah. That sounds good."

She finished her lunch and pushed it aside. "So, what are you doing for the holidays?"

"Staying here." He had no other place to go, after all.

She hummed in thought. "In that case, I'll see what we can do before Friday. That's when break starts."

That gave them a week. It wasn't a lot of time, but if they could get started together, maybe he could make progress on his own during the winter break.

Hermione added, "I'll have to finish up my schoolwork before break, though. So I don't know how much we can do this week."

"That's fine," Allen said. "It's enough that you're helping, really."

She studied him for a few moments, like he was a puzzle. "You're different," she said decidedly. "I don't think you would have asked for help a few days ago."

"Things changed," Allen said vaguely. "I'll tell you more about it later, I promise." He pressed his hands together. "I just have to wrap my head around it first."

She nodded, her expression odd. "Alright." She checked her watch and then climbed to her feet. "I have to ask the teacher about something before class. See you at 3."

"See you then," Allen said, and waved her off.

It was true. Things had changed. He had time now. He didn't have to worry about the Order finding him. He wasn't sure he had Akuma to worry about, either, though he wasn't about to put money on that. He thought he'd hidden it pretty well, but…

One hundred years. How on earth had he gotten here?

…Alright, yeah, he had a pretty good idea how; the question was, how was it possible? The Ark couldn't travel in time, that wasn't how it worked! It could travel in space, bring two points closer together. It bent space, or moved between spaces. That was it.

(He'd asked Reever, back when the Science Division had been trying to figure things out, and that was Reever's best theory, as far as Allen understood it.)

In fact the only way the Ark could be considered time travel was with the time it saved the Exorcists from travelling.

All this made his head hurt. At least it was a normal kind of hurt, though. He hadn't felt the Fourteenth stir since his first night out of the castle. Not that he minded, of course.

So, no or few Akuma, no Order. The Earl hadn't visited the Farpoldes, which still made no sense to Allen. He would still watch for other Noah, though they might look different now, in 1996, than back home. It was possible that the war had damaged the Noah enough that they'd gone into hiding. It wasn't the first time that they'd stayed hidden for a while.

Did the Order still exist? Surely they wouldn't still be looking for him? Even if he was a Noah, Noah could be killed. Maybe he was dead in this time, his body buried somewhere? Allen pushed that morbid thought away; it wasn't worth agonizing over.

Luna came in a few minutes later, and Allen greeted her enthusiastically. She smiled when she saw him, sat down and then began talking enthusiastically about the party and the good time she'd had talking with different people at the event. He grinned at her stories, laughing fully. It made the weight in his chest lighten, and for a few minutes life was good.

She left for class soon after, and Allen hung out in the Great Hall, taking a nap right at the table until someone tapped his shoulder.

Yawning, he looked up at Hermione, who'd changed out of her school robes but had her bag hanging off her shoulder. "You still want to go to the library?" she asked him. He nodded, stretched, and followed Hermione out.

The library was as intimidating as before, but Allen had a better idea now of what he wanted to find.

"So, Allen, what did you want to look up?"

"History. The last one hundred years or so," he replied promptly.

Hermione pointed down to a set of stacks on the second floor. "Up there, then. Though if you're looking for Muggle history, it's a bit lacking, unfortunately. There's mostly stuff on the wizarding world."

"That doesn't matter," Allen said, and together they climbed up to the second floor. After grabbing a table, Hermione began pulling down history books with titles like, "Wizarding America in the Roaring Twenties," "A Comprehensive Guide to Major Wizarding Discoveries of the 20th Century," and "The Rise and Fall of Evil: Gilbert Grindelwald, 1939-1945."

Allen thought this last title was a little dramatic, but Hermione seemed to think it interesting. "It's almost a total parallel of World War II in the Muggle world," she explained when Allen asked. "I looked into it for fun one afternoon. Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald, who had a reign of terror as long as Adolf Hitler's."

Allen was surprised, and impressed. That inoffensive old man? Although there was something about Dumbledore that made the idea of him defeating an evil wizard very believable. The idea of two world wars, however…it was horrifying. Imagine the destruction the Earl could work from all that death and loss…Allen shuddered.

Allen read over the books for hours, becoming totally absorbed. Hermione did homework, and neither of them noticed when the sun set or when the candles were lit around them. As the evening drew on, Hermione shut her books, stretched, and looked over at Allen. He didn't notice, too caught up in reading.

"Allen?"

He looked up; eyes glazed over, he blinked a couple of times to clear them. "Yes Hermione?"

"Not that I'm particularly upset to see you suddenly so interested in research, but, are you alright?"

Allen straightened his back, the bones popping, and stretched, groaning softly in satisfaction as he moved stiff muscles. "I don't usually do this," he admitted, sighing in relief as he cracked his neck.

"What brought it on?" she asked, reaching and picking up one of the books he'd set aside—A Brief History of Muggle England, 1900-1950.

Allen didn't answer right away, hands resting flat on the table. He stared down, vision glazed over, and she had to call his name to get his attention back.

"Sorry," he said with a sheepish smile. "I've…it's complicated," he said at last, and Hermione held back an exasperated huff.

"When isn't it complicated with you," she muttered.

Allen grinned sheepishly again, but it was clear his good mood from earlier was gone. "I'm sorry," he said, quietly. Hermione waited for him to go on. Scratching the back of his head he said, "I'm not sure I can explain. I don't really understand it myself. But when I figure it out, I'll tell you. I promise. I…owe you that."

His admission surprised her. "At this rate you're going to need a rather long time to tell me everything you've promised to," she said, pushing her arms out in a stretch.

Allen's mouth quirked into another sheepish smile. "I know. I'm sorry."

"So how did your trip go?"

Allen hummed. "Not like I expected," he admitted.

"It wasn't the monsters you fight?"

"No, they were there. But…" A lot of other things didn't add up in Allen's head and at the top of that list was the one fact that he kept coming back to: that it was 1996.

How did he not notice? Because now that he looked around, it was obvious. The kids wore weird clothes inside their robes, the hairstyles were wrong, and when he listened to their conversations, he noticed the slang was wrong, the very way people talked was different.

But Hogwarts was familiar, in a way—an old stone castle with strange magical happenings that back home he would have called Science Division business, like wireless radios and potions that gave you gills. The Science guys would be right at home in this place, he thought, and the thought made him miss the Order all over again. Even the weird clothes and hairstyles didn't faze him, not really—he'd seen so much weirdness in the Order that just didn't click with the world outside it. He figured maybe that was why he didn't immediately notice these things.

Kanda would have called him stupid for that. Lavi would have laughed, joking that he noticed immediately and was waiting for everyone else to catch up. Lenalee would have scolded the two of them, and calmed Allen in order to keep him from digging into Kanda about stupidity, either through reason or a smack to the back of the head. He smiled, recalling their faces, and missing them. As his thoughts raced on, the smile faded.

The reason he was looking at the books, going over them more intensely than he'd ever paid attention to books, was because no matter where he looked, he couldn't find anything that mentioned the Order. Wherever he looked, there was no mention of any events that followed Akuma attacks, or anything remotely sounding like Akuma attacks. It was like, after 1900, nothing he knew to be familiar was around anymore.

(If Allen was the logical sort he would have reasoned that, of course there was nothing on the Order. Even in his time it was barely known, just another office of the Church. Its true purpose was generally a secret except to those who witnessed the Akuma firsthand. But Allen wasn't the logical sort and so everything he couldn't find was just causing anxiety to build in his gut, anxiety he kept buried like always.)

What he did know was that because Hogwarts was here, because the world was here, the Order must have won. It was a small comfort.

"Allen?"

He looked up at Hermione, who watched him thoughtfully. "Sorry," he said again.

"You've said that a lot in the last couple of minutes," she observed.

Allen figdeted, picking at his nails. "Sorry," he muttered.

Hermione sighed, exhaustion from her work and from this dead conversation finally getting to her, and said, "We'll pick it back up in the morning."

He nodded, and Hermione stood to gather her things. He helped her re-shelve the books without a word.

They were quiet as they walked down to the third floor, where they would split ways for the night. Hermione noticed Allen was looking down at his feet, pensive. When they reached the hall Allen wished her a good night and set off, leaving her alone. She watched him go, clenching her hands beside her and wondering if she should have pushed him to answer her questions. Where was her Gryffindor courage?

More importantly, what was going on with Allen? What had changed?

xox

Allen couldn't sleep. He tried to distract himself; he reread stories from Hagrid's book of wizard tales. He tied and retied the ribbons on the Christmas candies for Luna and realized he had forgotten to give them to her at dinner. He'd forgotten to go to dinner, come to that.

The anxiety that had begun to build in the library was disappearing. So he was in the future this whole time and he'd been fine before he realized it; why should it bother him now?

He could accept that he was in the future...but could he except that the Order might not be?

As he sat twiddling his thumbs and ruining the Honeydukes holiday packaging, he had a sudden idea.

xox

As the sun broke over the mountains the next morning, Allen put on layers and wrapped his neck snugly in a scarf before throwing his overcoat on. Glancing around the room to make sure he hadn't missed anything, he only hesitated a moment before going out the door.

He left Luna's Christmas present on the bed, as a kind of insurance—a promise to come back.

There were very few others up this early as he ate a quick breakfast in the Great Hall, savoring coffee and muffins and unable to resist packing more than a few into his bag, wrapping them in napkins to keep the food from crumbling apart. When that was done he had another cup of coffee. More students started wandering in; it was time for him to go.

"Mr. Walker?" called the familiar voice of Professor McGonagall. Allen groaned under his breath, but turned around with a polite smile.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Professor Dumbledore asked that you come meet him in his office."

Allen glanced toward the doors outside. "Right now?"

"Yes, right now. You'd best hurry."

Allen sighed, readjusted his bag on his shoulders, and said, "Yes, ma'am."

Grudgingly he stomped toward the headmaster's office, wondering if the old man had somehow known what it was he was about to do.

He passed students on their way to classes, hardly noticed anymore as something out of the ordinary. The corridor nearest Dumbledore's office was empty, and Allen muttered the password and climbed the stairs as they appeared, knocking a little harder than necessary on the headmaster's door.

"Enter."

Dumbledore was reading, half-moon spectacles partway down his rather long nose. He looked up as Allen came in and marked his page, smiling in welcome. "Mr. Walker, thank you for coming at such short notice. I trust you're well?"

Allen set his bag down on the seat in front of Dumbledore's desk and nodded. "I'm fine. What did you need, sir?"

Dumbledore glanced curiously at Allen's bag and his state of dress, and said, "Were you planning on going somewhere?"

Allen glanced at his shoes for a second. "Not anymore," Allen replied.

"Well, perhaps it's fortunate you're already packed," Dumbledore replied. "I asked you the other night how your eye worked, and you explained you could see souls in objects."

Allen nodded, wondering where Dumbledore was going with this.

"As it happens, I may be in need of your particular gifts. You see, Allen, I've been searching for something, for many years, and it proves elusive."

"What are you looking for?"

"A means to defeat Lord Voldemort for good," he replied.

Allen frowned. Dumbledore seemed very tired, all of a sudden. For some reason, Allen's eyes traveled to Dumbledore's shriveled left hand.

The professor noticed, looking at it thoughtfully. "Indeed, what I ask is a difficult task. But I only want your help in finding it. You see, I have some ideas, and I had wished to check these places myself. But other duties call." He smiled apologetically, dropping his arm and letting his sleeve fall to cover the hand. "I would not ask if I didn't believe you capable. And you are not obligated to say yes."

Allen considered the old man for a minute. Was he imagining it, or was Dumbledore leaning against his desk, letting it support him?

"Allen, how familiar have you become with the war outside of Hogwarts?"

Allen tucked his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet. "Luna and Hermione have filled me in." He paused, considering his words. "To be honest, I haven't seen much evidence of a war at all."

Dumbledore hummed, a slightly amused smile on his face. "No, I suppose you have had your own worries. Perhaps I am burdening you with something that is not your fight."

Moments passed. Allen glanced at the portraits of past headmasters, watching the conversation with interest. Dumbledore was almost sitting on his desk now, and again Allen was hit the impression of great weariness.

He could do a favor. He owed Dumbledore for letting him stay as long as he had, didn't he? He knew about the war, and knew what all that entailed. It worried Luna...and Hermione, he supposed.

What was one detour?

Allen focused back on Dumbledore. "What it's called? The thing you want me to find?"

"The object—objects, truly—I seek is called a Horcrux. It's an item containing a piece of the Dark Lord's soul, and I believe it is the reason he has been so difficult to defeat. These items are hidden, kept with magic and great secrecy, and while I've had some success in securing the locations of a few, the rest remain out of reach."

Allen stared. "His soul?" he repeated in disbelief.

Dumbledore nodded. "He completed a very Dark kind of magic to do it."

"And he's still alive?" Allen replied incredulously.

Dumbledore sighed. "In a manner of speaking, yes. And he will continue to be so if we do not find these Horcruxes." Dumbledore's whole manner shifted, and Allen instinctively straightened up. "I need you to understand, Allen, that no one must know what exactly you are looking for. If the Dark Lord were to somehow get word that we know his secret, you would be in great peril."

As if he wasn't already. Allen nodded solemnly. "I understand, professor."

"Are you sure?"

Allen nodded. "Yes. I just have to find it, right? Where do I need to go?"

Dumbledore nodded, looking pleased. "You are doing me a great service, Allen. I cannot thank you enough." Dumbledore straightened from his desk, walking around and picking up a slip of paper. Allen came forward and took it from him. On the paper was an old black-and-white photograph of a dilapidated manor, sitting high on a hill, a graveyard at the edge of the picture. Allen watched the wind rustle the grass before pocketing the picture before flipping it over, reading the name on the back.

"I would like you to go to that place, and simply look at it with your eye."

"That's it?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Whatever you see, please report back to me. This shouldn't take more than a day."

Allen nodded. "Are you sending another of your people with me?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I trust you can be discreet, and handle it on your own."

Allen smiled slightly. "I'll try not to get lost, sir."

"Thank you, again. Have a safe journey, Mr. Walker."

Allen picked up his bag, gave the headmaster a slight bow, and left the office.

xox

He headed down to Hagrid's to make one last stop.

"Well, 'ello Allen! You're out early," Hagrid greeted him cheerfully. "I was just making a pot o' tea, want ta join me?"

Allen smiled. "Thanks, Hagrid, but I just came by to give you this," he said, and pulled out the Christmas candies, handing them to Hagrid. Hagrid smiled widely, cheeks rosy from either joy or the cold.

"Well, thank you, Allen," he said, voice full of surprised delight. "Ya didn't have ta."

"I wanted to," Allen said, meaning it. "You've helped me so much, Hagrid."

"Nonsense," Hagrid said warmly, waving Allen's words aside with his hand. "Come on, come inside. Let's sit for a bit."

But Allen shook his head. "I have to go. I'll be back," he added hurriedly, for the big man had frowned and looked like he was about to ask him why. "But I have to check something, and when I'm done, I'll come back."

Hagrid stared at Allen, still holding his present, and then sighed. "Alrigh'," he said. He bent down and took Allen up in his arm, squeezing him in a tight, almost painful hug. "You be careful out there, understand? It's dangerous times."

"I will," Allen said. Pushing at Hagrid's arms, the groundskeeper put him down at last and murmured a last, "be careful" before he shut the door.

Allen sighed, tightened his scarf around his nose, and trudged on. He pulled out some muffins from breakfast, munching on them and giving some to Timcanpy, who gobbled then up happily. Halfway down the road, he had eaten them all.

So much for that, I guess, he thought, grinning slightly.

As he walked toward Hogsmeade he got the feeling he was being followed. When he turned to look, he saw no one. But in his world, that didn't mean anything, and Allen was on high alert as he continued down the lane.

He finally reached the perimeter of the village and said softly, "Okay, Tim, where's the Gate?"

Timcanpy rustled by his neck until the golem was free of his scarf, and fluttered up a few feet into the air. He chirped a moment later and zoomed off, Allen rushing to catch up. Timcanpy lead him down the main road, then down a stretch of small, darkened alleys until he stopped, hovering over the entrance of one.

Allen squinted in the gloom. He had never properly shut the door to the Ark, but apparently it had hidden itself.

There—a small spot of light. He stepped closer, and as he did the light—the crack in the door—widened for him, until a Gate had opened up in front of him, waiting.

He hesitated, listening for followers. He sensed no one, and turning around, saw and heard nothing.

He stepped into the Gate.

The Ark was just as he'd left it: warm, bright, filled with white stone buildings out of a Mediterranean postcard. He shut his eyes against the glare of the sun, so bright after the midwinter gloom. He turned to shut the door, and sensed something pass him.

"Who's there?" he called out sharply, hand curling on the door knob.

No answer. He turned his head slowly, looking around. Nothing. Was he being paranoid?

A cold breeze blew in through the open Gate door; fabric rustled just a few feet away from him. Lurching forward, he grabbed the air—and his hands closed tight around something he couldn't see.

The invisible being yelped and Allen frowned. There was fabric under his hands, silky and cool to the touch. He tugged. The fabric revealed itself as it slipped to the ground, a silvery, liquid thing, and beneath it—

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" he snapped, surprise making him harsh. "Why aren't you in class?"

She wasn't even dressed for it, wearing jeans, boots, a heavy coat, scarf, gloves, and a particular fuzzy pair of green earmuffs clamped over her poofy hair. She held her hand to her arm where he'd grabbed her, rubbing it. She sputtered, looking at Allen, then at the Ark around her.

Allen sighed, rubbing his temples. "Hermione, get out of here."

"It's bigger on the inside," she managed at last. "But…but how…?"

Allen didn't have time for this. "I'll explain later if you get off now."

"Oh no," she said, crossing her arms. "I'm not going anywhere, not until you tell me where you're going."

They glared at each other, Allen in exasperation, Hermione in steely determination. At last, he sighed. "I'm going home," he said plainly.

She blinked. "You're what?"

"I'm going home," he repeated. "I have to check something."

She held up a hand. "Wait, you're going home—to the people who locked you up, who would kill you if you did?"

"They won't kill me," Allen sighed. "I'm too valuable."

Hermione clearly didn't believe him. "Allen, that's the stupidest—"

"I know, alright?" he snapped. Dropping his bag from his shoulder he turned away from her. "I know, but I have to be sure. I have to check and see if I'm really here or just going crazy."

"Check what?" Hermione cried in exasperation. "You've been acting strangely since yesterday."

He turned back around. She was frowning in concern at him, her hands clutched in fists at her side.

"Why were you following me?"

She bit her lip, hesitating.

"Hermione."

"Alright," she said, hands clenching together nervously. "I couldn't sleep last night. I was worried. And you didn't answer my question," she added hastily, trying to change the subject.

Allen decided to let it go—for now. "You won't believe me if I told you."

She stared unblinkingly at him, challenge in her eyes. "Try me."

Allen reached up to rub his temple and realized he still had her cloak. He held it up and asked, "What is this thing?"

"It's an invisibility cloak," Hermione replied. "I…borrowed it from Harry."

Allen cocked an eyebrow. "You stole it from your friend?"

She flushed. "Borrowed! I'll give it back. Look, I'm here to help."

"No, no, no," Allen interrupted. "No. You followed me, with a disguise no less. You aren't here to help me, you're here to spy." She flinched at the accusation but didn't back down, meeting his eyes evenly. This only served to rile him up more. "You need to leave. Where I'm going isn't safe."

"Then why are you going?" she retorted. "I'd say it's more dangerous for you than me."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

She sniffed. "What was your plan?"

He hesitated. His plan had been to do his trip to the Order, then the trip for Dumbledore. With Hermione here, he wasn't so certain which place to go first. She sighed, but there was no satisfaction in it. "That's what I thought. See that cloak you're holding? It hides people quite effectively. You didn't even notice me following you."

"Yes I did," Allen replied, just to spite her, but Hermione plowed on.

"I can help you find what you need back at your home without you being seen. If it's really so dangerous and you still insist on going ahead anyway, at least don't do it without someone to help you."

He tightened his jaw, glaring at her, but then sighed. "Then what's your idea?"

"The cloak and my magic. Move in, get what you need, get out. Simple."

"That's not a plan."

"It's better than what you had."

"It's exactly what I had," Allen replied shortly, and then could have kicked himself for getting distracted. "Look, you can't be here!"

"You owe me answers, remember? You promised, yet here you are, running away."

He sighed, rubbing his head. He really didn't have time for this. It stung that she was right. Damn it all.

"Fine," he said at last. She wanted the Order? That's what she'd get, and then he would drop her back to the school and get his favor for Dumbledore out of the way afterwards. Simple. "You want answers? I'll show you. But don't say I didn't warn you."

She nodded, trying not to look satisfied. He walked forward and shut the door to Hogsmeade. It was a darkly stained wooden door, with a brassy doorknob.

"How do you know which door takes us back to Hogwarts?" Hermione said, looking at the other doors around them.

"I'm working on that," he grumbled, rifling in his pockets for a knife or a handkerchief or something to mark the door.

"Well then, here," Hermione said, and raised her wand. "Engravio," she intoned, and with a flick of her wand, a symbol burned onto the door. Allen watched in amazement, staring at the school crest of Hogwarts as it cooled on the wood.

"That'll do," Hermione said briskly, pocketing her wand. Turning to Allen she said, "So. How are we leaving?"

He stared at her as she stood there: hands in her pockets, head held high, determined eyes scanning the Ark, and looking for all the world ready to jump out of an airplane or run the world.

He sighed in defeat, picking up his bag. "Follow me. Timcanpy?" he said, and the golem flitted in the sky, chirping before flying away at a walking pace.

Hermione continued to stare at the buildings and the city as they climbed up, awe seeming to cool her temper. "How does it work? Where does it fit?" She glanced at Allen. "What is this place?"

What use was holding back now? "It's the Ark," he said plainly. "It used to be Noah's Ark, but it's mine now. It takes you anywhere in the world without the travel time. Every door leads to someplace new—or it will, someday. Most of them don't go anywhere yet."

"Incredible…" Hermione said, looking around. His words registered and she paused. "Wait, Noah's Ark? As in the Noah's Ark?"

Allen nodded without a word.

"But that's a myth," she said in disbelief, looking around in renewed awe. "And it's a big ship, not…well…"

"Well, a few weeks ago if you'd told me that witches and wizards and flying broomsticks were real I would have said the Science guys were on mushrooms again."

She looked away from the expansive view of buildings and back to him. "What?"

"Never mind. Down here, we're almost there."

Hermione continued to ask questions, but Allen didn't reply, head consumed with worries as butterflies flitted wildly in his stomach. He turned past an empty fountain into a wide alley, bright and cheerful as the rest of the Ark. His step slowed as he approached a door, a sign reading HOME in bold letters hanging up for all to see. Hermione stopped beside Allen, glancing between the sign and Allen.

He shut his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to steady his heart, and hummed the Fourteenth's melody, until he felt the door form. Opening his eyes he reached for the doorknob, grasping it a moment. Taking another deep breath, he turned it and opened the door. Before them stretched empty darkness.

"I'll go first," he said softly. "Follow closely."

Hermione nodded, pulling out her wand and clutching it tightly in her hands.

Allen stepped down into the outside.