-Chapter Twenty Three-

A Finale Of Sorts

Harry stared at him in a mixture of horror and disbelief. "Mr. Diggory?"

"Yes," said Diggory. "Does everything make sense now?"

They unfortunately did. Harry thought back to his fourth year, to when he and Cedric Diggory had competed in the Triwizard Tournament. How Cedric had been killed. Amos had always been intensely proud of his son, and was always boasting about Cedric's achievements. He remembered Amos' anger at the perceived ignoring of Cedric's involvement in the Tournament over Harry's.

"But why are you doing this?" he asked finally.

"You couldn't possibly understand," replied Diggory.

"I think I do!" Harry replied, his voice rising. "You're doing this for revenge aren't you? Using the Master and the Daleks to kill me and avenge your son!"

"There it is again!" shouted Diggory. "That… that arrogance! This is not about you Potter! This is about Cedric."

He crossed over to the writing desk and inspected it for any damage from the Master's attack. Harry slowly made his way to where his wand had fallen. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he would feel safer with it.

But Diggory saw the slight movement and reacted instantly. With a flourish his wand was suddenly a black quill. He immediately began writing on the paper on the desk. "The ground at Harry's feet suddenly softened and Harry found himself sinking, his wand remaining just beyond his reach."

Before Harry could even react he suddenly found himself being sinking. Looking down, he was horrified to see that the rocky ground had now turned into some sort of mud that was pulling him down. Harry struggled with all of his might, reaching for his wand but it remained tantalisingly out of his reach. Just when he thought he was finished, the sinking stopped at his waist before the mud solidified again.

"Do you like it Potter?" sneered Diggory, looking at Harry in triumph.

"How did you do that?" asked Harry, struggling not to panic.

"Everything written on the parchment on this desk comes true," explained Amos, grabbing a pile of papers that was sitting on the desk and holding them up. "And as you can see, this story of ours has been going on for quite a while. That is why you will not spoil our plans."

"Our plans?" asked Harry, now very confused. Who else was involved?

In answer Diggory looked over to the tunnel he had emerged from and Harry did the same. Another hooded figure walked out and removed its hood, revealing the face of Aneytha Diggory, Amos' wife. Any hope Harry had that she might help him when she shot a look of pure venom at him (1). So she blamed him too.

"It wasn't my fault!" shouted Harry. "We both took the trophy so that it would be a joint win! How was I supposed to know that it was a portkey?"

"But it was your fault that he were there!" roared Amos. "Your repeated successes in the Tournament drove Cedric into trying harder and be there with you in the maze!"

"You just don't get it, do you?" said Aneytha. "All your bravado does is get people into trouble. First Cedric in the Tournament, then your friends and Sirius Black in the Ministry. Who next?"

Harry was silent.

"How are things looking?" Aneytha asked Amos, looking away from Harry.

"The same," replied Amos. "The entirety of Hogwarts is nothing more than jumbled mess, thanks to him." He gestured over to the corner where the Master's body lay.

"Then rewrite it!" cried Harry. "Use that parchment to fix everything, get rid of the Daleks, bring everyone back!"

Aneytha glared at him for a moment before turning away so that Harry couldn't see her face. "You can't bring back the dead. Believe me, we've tried."

A heavy silence fell across the room. Harry could tell what they were thinking. A brief movement caught his eye in the mouth of the tunnel he had entered and he strained to see what it was.

His heart skipped a beat at what he saw. There, peering cautiously around into the cave, was Ron and Hermione. Harry thought fast. If the Diggorys saw them then who knew what could happen. And if Ron and Hermione were there than that meant the Aurors couldn't be far behind. And if Amos and Aneytha thought they were being attacked…

"So what the Master said," he began, desperate to distract them. "About us being fiction…"

"All true, I'm afraid." said Amos, the contempt evident his voice. "Aneytha and I eventually realised what we we were. You can see and understand how things are if you are in the right emotional state you see…"

Like from the loss of your son. Thought Harry, wisely keeping it to himself.

"We tracked down the writer in the hope that she could bring Cedric back," continued Aneytha. "But… Something went wrong."

"Leaving us in charge," added Amos hastily. "And we soon realised that we were now in charge of the story and that we could change things for the better." He waved his wand (which was suddenly no longer a quill) and the bubbles in the air flew downwards, allowing Harry to see the images he had seen before. "Look at them, Potter. Look at what we have achieved."

At first Harry couldn't see anything different about the images but soon realised that it wasn't the places, it was the people. One bubble floated forwards, displaying an image of Azkaban. On it the sun was streaming through the corridors, making it into a brighter place. The prisoners were being led out of their cells by various guards. "Murderers, thieves and con artists, have had all of their negative attributes removed and are being released." he heard Diggory say. Another image flew forward, displaying an image of St. Mungo's. On it everybody was climbing out of hospital beds, laughing in disbelief. "With a simple sentence, all illnesses and maladies are removed and the people are cured." More images flew by, before settling on the image of Voldemort from before. Now Harry saw he was shackled to a wall, looking half-dead. "And lastly we have imprisoned the Dark Lord somewhere he can never harm anybody again. Look at we have done, Potter. We have created paradise."

"But you can't just change people!" cried Harry, horrified at what he had seen. "Where do you stop? First it's changing a criminal to be better, then what? Altering people because they annoyed you? Getting rid of part of what makes them them because you don't approve?"

"We knew you'd think like that." snarled Diggory. "Just like Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore knew?" asked Harry, horrified.

"No." said Aneytha. "But we knew that he think along the same lines as you. That is where the Master came in." She pointed her wand at the mirror in the corner, whose surface shimmered. A character appeared within it: a wizard, dressed all in white with a long grey beard and holding a wooden staff. The mirror shimmered and the image was replaced by a man in a victorian outfit with a piercing gaze. Then it was replaced by a bearded man in sea-faring garb. Then a woman dressed all in black, a veil covering her face. A small man with a mop of black hair in scruffy clothes. A young maiden with impossibly long hair. A masked man dressed in shining purple tights and a jet black cape, a strange-looking gun in hand. On and on the images went, getting faster and faster. "This world stores all of it's characters when not in use. Some are created from fiction while others have been…. drawn into the world and altered to suit it's needs." Amos crossed over to where the Master's body was lying and looked down at it with contempt. "We knew that Dumbledore would not agree with what we are doing so we used the Master to keep him distracted. But we didn't anticipate on the Master's ambition."

"So the Master's just from another story?" asked Harry, risking a quick look at Ron. Both he and Hermione were creeping up the pathway, wands at the ready and being careful not to be seen. "The Daleks as well?"

"No." said Aneytha. "From what we can tell the Master's a fictional version of the real thing. We felt the Master was best suited for distracting Dumbledore from our plans. But he was too independent. He worked for his own goals. As for the Daleks, they were drawn into Land of Fiction like so many others. We put them to good use."

"But they're killing everyone!" cried Harry, pointing at an image of Hogwarts. "And do you think they're going to stop there? They're going to wipe out the everyone!"

"We can fix that!" shouted Amos. "We can bring everything back!"

"Then why haven't you?" challenged Harry.

There was a long silence. Amos and Aneytha looked at each other uncertainly.

"You can't do it, can you?" said Harry with growing realisation. "You can't control them because they're not made of fiction, is that right?"

More silence. Harry's worst fears were confirmed. "Then you've killed us all. Your attempts to 'save' us have done the exact opposite."

"It was necessary," whispered Amos, no longer angry. "We had to do it to stop Dumbledore from finding out. He would have stopped us from saving the world. You have to understand…"

But the look on Amos' face showed that he didn't believe them himself and he hid his face in his hands. Athena hurried over to him and embraced him, silently weeping. Harry looked on. "There must be something we could do…" He suddenly spotted Ron appear on the plateau and quickly beckoned for him to get back out of sight.

But Amos had seen the movement. In one swift movement he he pushed Aneytha aside and pointed his wand at Ron. "Impedimenta!" the spell hit Ron full force, sending him barrelling back and nearly over the edge. "A trick!" roared Amos. "A stupid trick to allow your friends to rescue you!" He pointed his wand at Harry, a dangerous look on his face.

"Expelliarmus!" cried Hermione suddenly, sending Amos' wand flying from his hands. With a bellow of rage Amos flung himself at the wand. Aneytha sent a a curse Hermione's way, who blocked it. Ron leapt forward, sending a jinx at Aneytha. "Get Harry!" he shouted over the sound of spells. Hermione ran over to Harry and pointed her wand at him. "Finite Incantatem!"

Instantly the ground softened and Harry was able to pull himself out with Hermione's help. "We need to get out of here!" she yelled.

"No!" shouted Harry, running over to the desk. He had to undo everything before things grew worse. He grabbed his wand and was surprised to find that it had turned into a jet black quill. Dismissing the change, he began to write.

Everything the Diggory's had done was reversed. Things were back to as they were before-

"IMMOBULUS!"

Harry cried out as the freezing spell hit him square in the back and he found himself unable to move, falling backwards to the floor. Behind him Hermione shrieked as Amos knocked her back with a spell. On the other side of the platform Ron had been subdued by Aneytha. The bubbles shuddered as the new changes were implemented and everything began to go back to normal. "No, Potter!" roared Amos. "You will not undo everything we have strived for! I can see now that there is only one thing we can do"

"Amos…" began Aneytha uncertainly. "Are you sure?"

Amos nodded. "It's the only way." He glared down at Harry. "Our original was a lot more extreme. You see, we realised what the main problem was. It was you, Potter. We realised that if the Dark Lord had not attacked you back then, none of this would have happened. He would have been defeated by Dumbledore and everything would be different today." A single tear fell from his eye. "Cedric would still be here. But we thought you had the right to live as much as any other and strove to change things for the better. Yet here you are, ruining everything. We're going to have to do things differently." He turned away from Harry. Harry looked over at Aneytha in desperation but she would not meet his gaze.

Amos sat at the desk and began writing. "We shall have a new world. One without Harry Potter!"

The whole room started to shake. Harry struggled to rise but the spell was still affecting him. He watched in horror as a gigantic bubble rose from the pool, far larger than any of the others floating in the air. As everybody watched the giant bubble rose up, absorbing the smaller bubbles as it did so.

"A new world" whispered Amos. Aneytha walked over and took his hand.

Then it began to grow, swallowing everything up as it did so. Harry desperately tried to move as it began to envelop him and the others.

Then everything went black.

Appendix

(1) "A look of pure venom" actually dates from Wizarding times and refers to an extremely old urban legend of poisoning someone by looking at them and silently saying the spell without the use of a wand.