Chapter 24

Allen was still unconscious when dawn came. Johnny shook Hermione awake and she took morning watch while Johnny got some sleep. Kanda brought up breakfast and Hermione asked him if he wanted to rest as well.

Kanda grunted and started tending to his sword, which she took to mean "no."

Since the attack in the square Kanda's confused consideration of her had become straight-out dismissal. He probably thought she was useless, after how badly the Akuma had shaken her. Hermione wanted to prove differently. It had a lot to do with the fact that he was intimidating as hell, and still more to do with shame from losing her cool, even briefly.

Around noon Johnny woke and took over watching Allen, while Kanda took the bed for a nap.

Hermione pulled on her coat and left for Diagon Alley, to Gringotts and the money exchange station.

The Ministry's attitude toward Muggle money in 1896 was even worse than in 1996. She managed to Confound the official out of asking for her vault key, and gave him a false name.

Her next stop was a bookstore, where she scoured texts for ways to make a Muggle immune to anti-Muggle enchantments. She went across the street for stationary and a quill and started making notes right in the shop, marking down several promising ideas. This took a couple of hours, and she relished in the familiar comfort of research, as well as the relief of being out of the hotel room. When she'd exhausted the limited resources of the books, she walked over and had an "academic" chat with the bookstore owner. As she left the store, she paused just inside the door and cast a Memory Charm on the owner, wiping away any recollection of both her and their conversation.

If she had misgivings with the constant spells and trickery, she could easily explain it away. It was necessary and her actions helped Allen, helped Johnny, helped herself. Plus, she reasoned, she was in another time, and by limiting her presence in it, she was minimizing any possible consequences that a trip into even the distant past might have. Surely anyone in her position would have done the same.

When she got back to the room, she gave Kanda the bag of Galleons, and greeted Johnny with a yawn. She found her second wind, and after explaining what she meant to do, managed to cast a complicated series of enchantments on Johnny. By the time she was done, she was just awake enough to see that he would no longer suffer from urgent doctors' appointments, or any other side-effect of anti-Muggle protections. He could now walk in the wizarding world freely. Satisfied and exhausted, she kicked off her shoes, and fell asleep on the vacant bed the second her head hit the pillow.

xox

When she woke, it was the next morning. Allen hadn't stirred. Kanda had gotten a chair sent up and had slept in it, which didn't seem to improve his mood. They ate. They watched Allen slumber. Johnny turned Allen every once in a while, and wiped his forehead dry. He'd developed a fever overnight.

They were all silent, all caught up in their own thoughts. Johnny went downstairs for a drink. Hermione's thoughts had gotten a chance to whirl around in her head, now that she'd gotten some rest. She glanced at Kanda, sitting in his chair, sword lying against his shoulder. He was resting, but she had the feeling he wasn't relaxing.

"How did you really come to Hogsmeade?" she asked, quiet but direct. Kanda merely looked at her. It wasn't the question she'd wanted to open with, but now that she'd asked, it seemed as good a place as any to start.

She smiled slightly, pushing her indecision aside. "There's no way you two simply got lost. The spells and enchantments protecting Hogsmeade are too strong even for someone like you, who can see through them."

Kanda stared at her for several moments, expression utterly impossible to read. "I don't know," he said at last, and the irritation at his lack of knowledge was plain. "But it was when Gill started acting up. We were a few miles away when he started running, and I caught him and tried to drag him off, but he kept going. I couldn't stop him. When we got here he stopped at the first inn we saw and wouldn't leave." Kanda shook his head in disgust. "You know how long it took me to knock him out? It was like he was possessed."

Hermione frowned. "Possessed?"

"Yeah," Kanda grumbled. "Little guy can run too."

Hermione chewed on that for a minute. "He was Compelled," she said at last. "A Compulsion Spell, something meant to draw him and yourself to Hogsmeade," she ventured.

Kanda looked at her like she was growing mushrooms from her ears. "You think someone wanted us here," he said pointedly.

"Yes, but who? And how did they know you'd be here, now?" she mused. "Strange coincidence." She sighed, shaking her head. "Though I can't say I believe in those anymore."

Kanda didn't seem to think much of it. "Whatever you say," he replied. "You know more about this magic stuff than me."

Hermione checked Allen's temperature, and changed the warm dry cloth on his forehead for a cool wet one. "So why have you been looking for Allen all this time?" she asked, sensing that being straightforward with Kanda was best.

"None of your business," he replied, just as bluntly.

"We're in this together now, whether we like it or not," she pointed out. "It is my business."

But Kanda didn't rise to the bait and further efforts to pry the answer out of him only made him irritable. She saw the way he cradled the sword to his chest, seemingly relaxed but ready to unsheathe the weapon at a moment's notice. She decided to stop while she was ahead.

She glanced at Allen, saw him sweating, and wiped it away.

That sliver of guilt in her chest twisted, and she wondered if she should have actually listened to Allen, instead of thinking she knew better.

There was nothing to do about it now, and no time for regrets. When he woke up (for he had to wake up) she would ask, and she would be forceful, until they finally started getting somewhere.

Her thoughts wondered to Harry and Ron, and hoped that they were alright. If their positions were switched she'd be worried sick, and she felt guilty for not thinking of them sooner. She just hoped that, if Allen got a hang of his time machine, they wouldn't have to miss her at all.

xox

The cycle continued for another day and night. Allen remained asleep. Kanda spoke only when necessary, so Hermione became used to his silence. Johnny asked her questions about Hogwarts and magic, which she readily answered, falling into the comfortable habit of lecturing. Unlike most of her schoolmates, though, Johnny listened with apt attention, drinking in every word, stopping to ask questions and rerouting the topic until Hermione and he were engaged in lively debate. It bled over to the science Johnny knew, and Hermione was fascinated to learn how the Science Department had melded science and magic together.

That's when Hermione remembered the notebook.

"Your Order has underground storage, where you keep your research and other documents?" she asked.

Johnny nodded, frowning at the question. "Yes, most of the Order's records exist in one form or another there but...how did you know that?"

Hermione bit her lip nervously for a moment. "Allen and I were down there, the day before we ran into you."

Johnny's eyebrows shot up and even Kanda looked surprised. "How did you get in?" Johnny asked. "Wait, how did you escape?"

She sighed. "Well, there wasn't any resistance. The Order was empty. No, please don't interrupt," she added hurriedly, because she saw Johnny tense up and open his mouth to ask questions she didn't have answers to. "Don't worry, I'm sure the Order is still around, now. You see, I'm a witch, but I'm not from this time, 1896. I'm from 1996."

They both stared at her for several moments, stunned. Kanda recovered first. "How?"

They weren't laughing at her, or looking at her in disbelief, and that was encouraging. "We came here through the Ark." She explained what had happened, how she and Allen got stuck in Hogsmeade after escaping the Order's ruins.

"Before we left the grounds, though, I found this," and she got up and pulled out the leather-bound notebook she'd found in Allen's file box from her coat. "Have either of you seen this before?"

They shook their heads.

"I haven't tried to open it," she continued, her voice hesitant. "But it was in his box, and before I found it Allen asked to me look for anything related to someone called the Fourteenth. After we escaped into this time, Allen told me a little about him, but..."

Johnny tensed and Kanda's eyes narrowed. "We can talk about that when Allen wakes up," she finished hurriedly.

Kanda clicked his tongue impatiently. "So what about the notebook?"

"I know it belongs to Allen, but considering the state he's in, I think whatever's inside might be too important to wait for him to wake up. But I wanted you both to know about it before I tried. Do you mind?"

Hesitantly, the two men glanced at the notebook, but then Johnny said, "No. If it was in Allen's things than it might have answers. Let's open it. I'm sure he'll understand."

Hermione nodded. She had given this some thought and felt it was the right thing to do, and so didn't hesitate to add, "You're his friend," she said. "I think you should do it."

Surprised, Johnny accepted, taking the notebook from Hermione. Eyes alight in interest, he turned it over in his hands before unwrapping the leather cords that kept it bound.

But that was all he could do—the book wouldn't open. As if the pages were glued together, it wouldn't budge. Not for Johnny, not for Kanda, and not for Hermione after she hit the book with dozens of opening spells, a few Finite Incantatems for good measure, and vocal threats at the book that it open at once or she'd burn it. (Weirder things had worked and Hermione was very frustrated at that point.)

Finally, Kanda took the book, wrapped the cords around it and gave it back to Hermione. "We'll try again later," he said gruffly, and that was the end of that.

Johnny wasn't done asking questions about the future and asked Hermione to tell him all she knew about the Ark and its time travel abilities. The conversation dissolved into bouncing theories back and forth, each more unlikely than the last.

Either they accepted her story as fact or hid their disbelief well, because the idea of Hermione being from the future didn't seem to faze them for long.

xox

When Allen stirred, all three of them stopped and stared, waiting for his eyes to flutter open. But he only made muddled whispers in his sleep, and his face grimaced with pain, eyeballs flicking back and forth under his eyelids—in the midst of a disturbing dream. Johnny sighed, and then looked to Kanda and Hermione.

"Why don't you two go downstairs and get a bite to eat?" he suggested. "Get out of the room. I'll keep an eye on him."

Kanda rose to his feet and walked to the door. "Coming?" he asked Hermione impatiently, and she shrugged on her coat and scarf and followed him out, with one last glance at Johnny watching over Allen's restless dreaming.

They walked down in silence, but Hermione was used to it with Kanda. He wasn't comfortable to be around; Hermione felt like every other word she said to him irritated him. He was completely unapproachable. But she'd seen him in action, and knew he was good in a crisis. For some reason, his distant brand of steadiness the last few days kept her calm. Most importantly, though, Hermione sensed that he had been truthful with her, if reluctant; and so, without realizing it, Hermione was giving Kanda the benefit of the doubt she'd never given Allen.

To anyone who knew either of them well, it would have come as a great surprise, but somehow that's how it was.

They got a table and ate a quick, silent lunch. By now, Hermione knew better than to try small-talk with Kanda. As they finished Hermione said to Kanda, "I want to check on the Gate, to see if maybe it'll work for us this time."

"I doubt it," Kanda replied, but followed her out anyway as she walked toward where the Gate was still open, weaving through busy streets filled with horses, carriages, and people in strange dress. Hermione cast a charm to deflect attention, and so they walked unnoticed. To get to the Gate, they had to pass the site of the battle—and as they turned down the way Hermione had to clamp her mouth together to stop from gasping.

It was still a mess of rubble. Ropes had been put up to keep people out. Police inside the ropes were poking around, inspecting the damage.

"Let's try this way," she said, and Kanda seemed to agree; at least he didn't argue. Taking the long way round they came upon the crack in the door from the back. It was still there, a dim line of light so discreet that you would only spot it if you were looking for it. Hermione tried to open the door, but as before, no spell seemed to work.

"It's a song," Kanda said, after a few moments of watching Hermione get steadily frustrated.

"What?" she said, turning to face him.

"The beansprout makes it work with a song. He's the only one who can do it."

"Well, why didn't you say so before?"

Kanda shrugged.

"You should have said something," she replied gruffly, pocketing her wand. "Here we are stomping around in the cold for no good reason."

"We're out of that room, aren't we?" Kanda replied, just as gruffly.

She sighed. "Come on, let's get back."

The wind picked up and snowflakes began falling as they walked, colder and sharper as it bounced off the stone walls, and the temperature was dropping so fast that when they entered the Leaky Cauldron Hermione sighed with relief at the intense heat of the fire, and even Kanda seemed grateful to be indoors. She greeted the innkeeper and ordered soup to be sent upstairs before following Kanda up.

As Kanda cleared the stairs and started down the corridor to the room, he stopped. Hermione frowned and was about to ask why when he held up a hand for silence. His hand fell to his sword, not drawing yet, and he advanced slowly down the hall, utterly silent.

Hermione followed, trying to be as effortlessly quiet. She watched him; his shoulders had tensed, but he took a breath, loosening himself. The grip on his sword tightened as he put his other hand on the doorknob. He stood motionless, as if listening for something, completely intent on the door and yet, Hermione suspected, totally aware of everything around him.

In a second the door crashed open, Kanda drew his sword, and Hermione got inside just as Kanda slammed Allen against the opposite wall, blade to his throat, Kanda's full weight pushing against Allen—Allen, wide awake and dark grey, looking at Kanda with unearthly coldness.

Hermione gasped and Allen's attention shifted to her face. Her stomach rocketed to her throat at the expression there—pure malevolence shining from golden eyes.

"Look at me," Kanda growled. "Look at me, you shit Fourteenth!"

Allen did, lazily—only this person was not Allen. Oh, he had his face, but something else was…wrong. Missing. Revolting. It wasn't just the vicious glint of his eyes. His whole self radiated wrongness, and Hermione drew her wand, gripping it tightly to stop her shaking hands, preparing herself.

Her eyes took in the room, and she saw what Kanda had seen from a second after rushing in—Johnny was slumped against the bed, a trail of blood above his head in a sick splash of red. He was unconscious.

She pointed her wand at Allen, a curse on her tongue, scared of Allen and scared for Johnny.

"Hello Kanda Yuu," Allen said. His voice was soft and slick and Hermione shivered.

Kanda pressed his blade to Allen's neck; a spot of blood appeared where the blade nicked the skin. "Aren't you Allen Walker?" he demanded. "Answer me!" He pressed the blade harder; the line of blood spread. "Come on, beansprout!"

Something happened then. The wrongness of Allen faded; his expression went from malevolence to confusion, as his skin faded from gunmetal grey to a sickly white. "Kanda?" he asked, and it was Allen again.

Kanda watched him another moment before letting Allen go, easing up slowly, lowering the sword but keeping it bared. Hermione lowered her wand but didn't pocket it, her hand shaking by her side.

Allen looked from Kanda to Hermione, and then his eyes drifted to Johnny. They widened in shock and horror. "Did…did I…?"

"Not you," Kanda said, and sheathed the sword. "Get a grip, beansprout."

The relief in Kanda's voice was well hidden, but there, nonetheless. Hermione swallowed, summoned her courage, and walked over to Johnny.

Allen stayed out of the way, curled up in a ball with the inflated Timcanpy, watching mournfully as Hermione and Kanda tended to Johnny. Johnny smiled and waved off Hermione's concern, and Allen's apologies, which Hermione personally thought a bit ridiculous of him. She said nothing; Allen looked truly repentant. But she couldn't find it in herself to meet his eyes just yet; the fresh memory of hatred in them was still at the front of her mind and made her heart clutch with fear.

I'm better than that, she thought to herself. It's something he's fighting. It's not his fault.

She understood why Kanda was here now. He was here in case Allen failed to rein the Noah in. The thought terrified her and she couldn't bring herself to voice it aloud—to ask and confirm. She understood, so much better now, what Allen's "curse" truly was, why he was so afraid of it, of involving others with it. He'd finally told her his story, not, as she'd believed, to allow her into his confidence, but to convince her to back away, to try and help her understand why she couldn't get involved. In her realization came burning shame—for thinking she understood his story, for believing this whole mess was really something as simple as a curse. And worst of all, for trying to push Allen into facing it for her own satisfaction.

Because that's what it was, she realized at last: a burning need to fix the puzzle she couldn't begin to see the whole of, to prove she was up to the challenge of it when he'd never wanted her to play. To prove she was worthy of—what, exactly?

She'd solved harrowing challenges before, for Harry, for Ron, for survival—but those circumstances had been completely different, and she'd been among friends who welcomed her help and knowledge, people she cared about and who cared about her. She'd been in situations she had agreed to be in, not knowing everything but knowing enough, and she'd chosen to be by her friends' sides in every single one of those situations, regardless of the risks. Johnny and Kanda had come now—Allen's friends, people who knew what they were getting into and stepped up anyway, because they cared. Allen pushing them away was because he cared, in the exact same way Harry pushed away those he cared about. For the first time, she was seeing that. Allen pushed her away because it wasn't her business, and because he didn't want to see even strangers get hurt. It was so painfully obvious.

What, exactly, brought her and Allen together other than a forced partnership? They weren't friends; they were barely acquaintances. She didn't know anything about him and yet she'd stepped into the deepest, darkest part of him and insisted she had a right to be there.

And now, after seeing…him, the Fourteenth, there was no going back. Hermione sat still on the vacant bed and warred with shame and fear and the backbreaking sense of responsibility for shoving her way into it all and having reached this point of no return so blindly.

There was a knock at the door.

Numbly, Hermione stood and walked over to the door, cracking it open to see the housekeeper with a tray of bowls, filled with steaming soup. Carefully, so as not to let the witch see into their room, she took the food and shut the door. Wordlessly she handed everyone dinner. She'd forgotten all about asking for it to be sent up; it felt like another age. Another Hermione had asked for that meal.

The food grew cold, untouched. And that night, no one slept well.