Chapter Forty-Seven: Preparations
"Let me see if I have this right," Gwenn set her cup down with a delicate click. "You've been charged with a quest to free two of the most powerful gods of Eire. To free them you must find a room that exists only within the Dark. You don't know where they are or how to get them free."
"Yes," said Harry.
"What you need," Gwenn said after a moment, "Is an eshu."
"A what?"
"They find things," She rose and paced over to a desk hidden in the corner. She rustled through a few drawers before unearthing a book. The ancient pages crumbled at the edges as she showed it to them. "See? They were gods of the crossroads, trickster gods, but more neutral than harmful. The only way to find what you're looking for is to not know where it is and ask an eshu to help you. It's their specialty."
Harry peered at the book. "They really exist?"
"Oh, yes," Gwenn set the book on his lap with a smile.
"Will we need to pay them?" Draco frowned.
"Favor for favor, but it depends," Gwenn tapped a finger to her lips. "Sometimes you'll have a thing they need, but don't know they need. Then it will be their obligation to help you."
"That's dicey."
"They were hunted by mortal kings," she sighed. "All the ancient monarchies wanted an eshu of their own. They became quite scarce after a while."
"But you think we can find one?" Harry looked up from his study of the page.
"I think -," the goddess was cut off by the world rattling. Draco dove for Harry, sending them both to the floor in a messy sprawl, the book trapped between them. Severus fell, shielding his head from a rain of twigs and clumps of dried earth. Merle had moved faster than they could track, scooping up Gwenn before she could fall and standing fast against the mighty quakes.
"What was that?" Draco pushed away, helping Harry to his feet. They both tried to keep the ancient book in as a complete piece as possible.
"I'm sorry," Harry held it out to the goddess as Merle unfurled his branch-like arms.
"No worries, dear," she sounded shaken. "And that, young man," she nodded at Draco. "Is your cue to hurry up and find a Path Seeker."
"An eshu?"
"Yes, lad," Gwenn patted her hair back into place. "One of those."
"But where do we find one?"
"At the Market, of course!" She wiped her hands on her apron and made a face at the mess on the floor.
"You just said we can't buy them."
"Ah, but eshu are always at the Market," she shook a finger at them. "They help people find things they did not know they forgot."
Draco blinked a few times and then turned to Harry.
"Sounds like we're going to the Market." Harry said. "But what was the shaking, really?"
Gwenn's expression turned grim. "A godly death," she said, her voice soft. "Your Dark God has destroyed another pillar of time."
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"I'm not going in there!"
"Shut up, woman, and move!"
"Don't talk to me like that!"
Ginny watched as Hermione stumbled through the entrance to the Slytherin dorms, with Seamus and Sasha hot on her heels. Her hand tightened around her quill as she watched the older students hustle to the long table under the mirrors, even as Hermione and Sasha continued to snipe at each other.
She'd been a part of that group…before. Before her father had tried to help Harry, before Sirius found out how she had hid Harry and Malfoy's closeness, how…
She let out a sigh and turned back to her stack of homework. Harry wouldn't even talk to her anymore. Draco wouldn't come near her. All she had wanted to do was make her new father happy – but she had not wanted to make Harry mad at her either – either way she had lost and it had taken many apologies for Sirius to stop yelling. Even then, Remus had been the one to write to her, to tell her that Sirius wasn't mad at her, just at everything around him and that she wasn't to take his shouting to heart. She'd written to Bill, who had promised to ask for leave from the new excavation. She wanted her brother there to talk some sense into Sirius and to calm him down, since Ginny was not able to make a dent in the man's panicked plans.
She was angry with Harry, too, for not just going along with everything. Didn't he want a family? Wouldn't he do anything to be with them? She chewed on her lower lip and glanced at the huddled older years. Something was going on, but they were keeping all of the younger House members from the plans. To involve Hermione meant it was probably complicated, but where were Draco and Harry? If the two had cooked up another hair-brained quest to…
She shook her head with short, violent twitches. She was starting to sound like Sirius after Fondorn had been to the Manor. Her father would be worked up for ages after the Healer had left, and even Ginny would feel…compelled…
Her pen slipped from her fingers as she narrowed her eyes. Something felt…off in her head. Foggy, as though she was not supposed to…
Her hand came down with a resounding crack on the tabletop, startling everyone around her. The gathered sixth and seventh years looked over in surprise.
"Ginny?" Neville finally asked as her chair scraped back and she planted her hands on the worn study table.
"Which one of you is the best at detecting mind-altering curses?" She bit out. There was a bunch of funny looks tossed among the older students, but Blaise was the one to step forward.
"What's the problem?" He asked.
She pointed at her temple. "I'd like to see if a man named Fondorn has done more than muck with my knee."
The sudden blooming of vicious grins around the older years' table was a sight to see.
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Scrimgeour was up to his neck in paperwork and hysterical councilors. Most of the Wizengamot was gathered in his lobby, babbling at each other at a decibel level that was eating away at his ears. The permanent migraine had migrated to encompass his entire skull; his teeth ached from clenching and grinding them together as the waves of pain ebbed by.
His aides were running – running – through the building as fast as his staff could send them. Reports were coming in from both the muggle and magical worlds. Centaurs were disappearing, some were rampaging through communities, mad and frothing at the mouth, babbling some sort of rot about the end of time. Norway's Seer's academy had gone silent. Germany's Prime Minister was being held at wand-point by the German Minister of Magic in case the man got any ideas to announce to the public that the wizarding world existed. It had taken several of Rufus' still-loyal Unspeakables to change the German Minister of Magic's mind on the matter. Fudge and his contingent of former Ministry employees had disappeared off the grid and that empty vacuum of information on his rival made Rufus' skin crawl.
In short, chaos had exploded all over Rufus Scrimgeour's ordered day and he was not pleased.
The one aide he had not seen that day was Chester…or was is Casey? He could never remember the young man's name. Either way, Rufus had expected the boy to be in and out of his office every five minutes like the rest of his new aides, but he had not seen the boy since mid-morning at the latest. Rufus had done something with the inventory files and he had no idea what – his aides always had a better handle on what he had put where and when, especially Casey – or was it Chester?
He hoped Casey – perhaps Christopher? – got back soon. The Wizengamot members would take up the most of his day and he needed the tallies from the Department of Mysteries to brief them…
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"A modified what?"
"Confundus," Blaise tapped his wand against his palm and peered at her. "He's such a dick."
"Who?"
"Fondorn."
"Well, yeah," Ginny flexed her hands, the irrational anger no longer so irrational, burning just under her skin. "When I get my hands on him…"
"Why did he do it, though," Blaise shook his head and turned to the others. "It has to be the entire family."
"Let me see that spell again," Sasha held out her hand for the paper. Blaise handed it over. Her nose wrinkled as she read it over, one hand yanking another reference book close.
"It must have been cast before Harry came to stay with them," Pansy tugged on a lock of hair. "Otherwise how do you explain the change of attitude towards him?"
"Another curse aimed at Harry, do you think?" Millicent tilted her head at Blaise.
"No," Sasha answered with a scowl. Her dark gaze rested on Ginny. "It's not that simple – or that perfect of an excuse."
"Meaning what?" Ginny fired at the older girl.
"Fondorn had at least some legitimate training in the mental arts. He used the modified Confundus to hide the fact that he had used a spell on you, the second part of the spell just…enhanced certain things."
"Enhanced what?"
"Doubt, jealousy," Sasha cocked an eyebrow at her. "The need to conform, to be a good girl, the need to obey and please the father figure in your life. A nasty spell, very insidious. But not illegal."
"The hell it isn't!"
"It was used in the past as a deterrent for chronic offenders," Sasha tapped a finger on the book at her side. "Still used to this day. Considered a Light spell. The Ministry's – and the Unspeakable's – favorite toy."
"What book tells you that?" Blaise crowded in to look.
"Something my family has been recording for centuries." Sasha met Ginny's gaze. "True Chroniclers are bound to lay out the truth, both sides, choosing none. A messy, unloved job, hated by the victors and forgotten by the losers in whatever battles we record."
"Your family are Record Keepers?" Pansy sat up straight.
Sasha turned away. "We used to be. Now it's just my cousin and I." Seamus laid a hand on her shoulder. She did not shrug it off.
"So you're saying he used a completely legal spell on me that changed the entire way I think?" Ginny demanded.
"No," Sasha turned back. "He used a completely legal spell to reinforce what you already thought to blow it out of proportion. I suspect he did the same to both Sirius and Remus – though I wonder about Bill. He has a check-up with the Gringott's healers before he goes on to new locations, doesn't he?"
"Wait, are you saying…"
"They would have caught the spell," Blaise nodded. "Which means Fondorn was either smart enough not to cast it on him or Bill never gave the man a chance to catch him alone."
"Hey, wait…"
"Probably the later. Bill would be wary of people using him – he is a cursebreaker, after all," Neville added.
"You mean to say this is our fault?" Ginny burst out, tears making her eyesight blurry. "That right now, when I can think clearly I'm so mad and – and confused and disgusted with myself and – and – you mean that those ideas, all of that – that claptrap – was me? It wasn't someone else?"
There was a thick moment of silence. Ginny felt her breath catch in her throat. "We – I – we never, never would have – how can you –," she shook her head, taking a step back. Her knee gave out on her, her cane, her precious, precious cane she had not spared more than a fleeting thought about for bloody months, was no where to be seen. She fell, landing in a heap, tears spilling over and streaking down her cheeks.
Pansy got there first, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Ginny sniffed, trying to keep the tears at bay, but to no avail.
"Shh, shh," Pansy ran soothing circles over Ginny's back as she cried. "I won't lie to you, Gin. It was your thoughts that directed the curse, but, but," she said over Ginny's tears. "But they were pushed out of proportion, blocking the common sense from your argument. You couldn't defend against it and still you protected Harry as best you could. It's all right, Ginny. It's all right…"
But despite the words that should have been reassuring, it tasted hollow to Ginny, like dust and ashes on her tongue.
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"Do you have the map?"
"Yes, Draco," Harry replied without looking up. "We're going the right way."
"You're sure."
"Of course I am."
The directions Gwenn had given them were complicated, as was the map, which only Harry could read. Neither Snape nor Draco had been pleased by that. Having the folded piece of tanned skin felt good in his hands – he had missed the Marauder's Map more than he had known.
Having a physical representation of the Otherworld was nice as well. It would only show sections, from signpost to signpost as they traveled. Gwenn said it was because the Otherworld was always changing that the map had to be able to change as well. It made sense to Harry, but he wasn't sure about the others.
They were warned to avoid the distortions – Gwenn told them that nightmares could be made real from the rifts in time and space and Harry was in no hurry to test that theory out.
There were a number of Markets in the Otherworld. Capitalized because they were more than just areas of gathered traders; no, Markets themselves were like a small world unto themselves, with gods and rules all of their own. They appeared where the Paths intersected more than twice – the more Paths that crossed at any one place meant the larger the Market would be.
There were different types of Markets as well. Gwenn had warned them away from the places labeled Night Markets or Flesh Markets – and she would not explain why. The Flesh Market was easy enough to guess at, but the Night Market was a mystery.
They had passed through one small Market, where the vendors had scattered at the first sight of them, leaving a ghost town as they approached. They'd had to pick a Path at random from there and hope for the best. Harry had chosen the brightest of them all to follow. He was beginning to doubt his decision.
They had left the ever-present woods and ended up on a strange maze of wooden bridges that crossed from one bare strip of sand and grassy earth to the next. Strange shadows moved under the gray waters, too large to be any fish that Harry was familiar with. He tried not to dwell on the fact that they could be attacked at any time by those creatures and had hurried along the Path, hoping the next signpost would appear soon.
After the maze of bridges, they stepped into a world of pillars. Harry had clung to Draco's arm as they picked their way across the thousands of posts that seemed to go on forever. Severus had been silent the entire time over the field of posts. Harry didn't blame him. He hadn't been able to see the bottom of the ravine below them either.
Harry glanced at Draco and then back at the map. "We'll need to think about stopping somewhere," he said.
"Not here," Draco frowned at the fields around them, their newest location. "Let's see what comes up next."
"The signpost hasn't even shown up yet," Harry tilted the map at the other boy. Draco waved it away – he said all it looked like to him was crazy lines bleeding all over the page. It made his eyes hurt.
"We've time yet."
"We've been walking for hours."
"Are you tired?" Snape asked from Harry's other side.
"No, sir," Harry shook his head, "But we'll have to stop sometime, won't we? If this goes on too long?"
"Preferably we would get this done quickly," Snape nodded. "But it may take us more than one day."
"Adventure tales never talk about the waiting, or the walking," Harry sighed.
"I think you have fulfilled enough of those adventure tales to know just how different reality is from fiction," Snape snorted.
Harry rolled his eyes, but stayed quiet.
"Hold up," Draco's hand latched onto Harry's arm. "I see something."
They froze, all of them with their wands out. Harry peered into the gloom, looking for whatever Draco had spotted. He was about to call the blond's bluff when he saw it – a faint outline of something moving on the horizon.
"How did you see that?"
"Couldn't you?"
"All I see is a tiny blob and I can only half-see it now."
"It's a person," Draco narrowed his eyes and shifted from foot to foot. "A man, I think."
Harry exchanged a glance with Professor Snape and shrugged.
The hairs on the back of Harry's neck began to prickle as the man drew closer. The stranger was not following the Path; he walked out over the rocky fields, straight and true. As he drew closer, the tingling on the back of Harry's neck grew worse. It was almost as if…
"Lugh's balls," the man exclaimed, stopping a few feet in front of them, where his Path intersected with theirs. "Dreamer, you do get around." Roan the selkie tipped back the floppy hat that hid most of his face and grinned at them. "What, now? No hellos for an old friend?"
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"I've got their locations."
"Guards?"
"Two at the end of the hall. Shift change every four hours. All rookie Aurors, most of them don't even walk the hall. Their main interest seems to be the door to the Department of Mysteries."
"And the Room of Magical Devices?"
"Down the hall to the first right, second door on the left."
Colin nodded, studying the small group around him. "We'll go at the next shift change. It's time to dump all the small problems into Scrimgeour's lap so we can have the confusion. What else?"
"We'll need a distraction for the guards," Shelly pointed out. "You're the only one with the credentials to get into the building. We get close and the alarms go off."
Colin worried the skin of his lower lip. "I'll think of something. You all be ready when the alarms go off. They'll already be ringing, so they won't notice if you enter. I'll need your help with transporting the time turners. Have the port key?"
"Ready and waiting," they each said.
He let out a long breath and met each gaze in turn. Shelly, Mark, Matthew and Carey. They had risked everything to come back to the world that had exiled them. They had risked everything in one last attempt to mend the rifts between them and the rest of the world.
"Right," he said. "Let's do this."
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Hermione, for all of her youth, had been the only muggleborn wizard in Colin's little group of exiles he had collected. Carey was the oldest, a pureblood witch with a potions bent that included more muggle ingredients than most. Her experiments had gotten her exiled, but her skills kept her busy on the black market, digging a niche for herself and a steady stream of news for the rest of them about the goings-on in the wizarding world.
Their hopes had been raised when the old gods had reappeared in both the muggle and the wizarding worlds. But as time wore on and none of the Ministers of Magic had stepped up to the challenge of uniting the two worlds, their hopes had dried like rain puddles in summer. What little information they had received from their contacts in Knockturn Alley grew scarce. Then the killings had started and no one was willing to talk to them anymore. Not even to Carey, with all of her reputation and long-standing trust in some of the more seedier shop owners of Knockturn Alley.
It had been Hermione who had solved their information crisis. Her ideas of espionage were brilliant – something she seemed hesitant to take acknowledgement for, claiming she got most of her ideas from the muggle television. Colin had never gotten used to watching the moving pictures trapped by a ruddy big box, so he wouldn't know. Mark had seemed to agree, however and the subject was dropped.
Through their various contacts – and a hair-raising meeting with Mr. Ollivander's second cousin – they had procured a new wand for Colin, papers and identification that would pass all the inspections by the Ministry and a charm that he could wear inside the building that worked as a remember-me-not spell, with a few variations. Gaining access to Scrimgeour's staff, even before he was inducted as Minister, was easy. Avoiding the paranoid and loyal Unspeakables had been another problem.
Hermione had kept the others as up to date as she could from Hogwarts. One by one, Colin had sneaked passes and erased entry alarms for as many exiles as he could; he would need a larger crew than his small five – six, counting Hermione – to make a real change in both the worlds.
Now they were needed. They had a plan and a place to gather. He wasn't sure how Hermione had managed to secure the Headmaster of Hogwarts' permission but they were all granted rights of sanctuary at the ancient castle. All they had to do was provide the time turners and get out of the Ministry alive with them intact. No problem. Really.
There were a few traps he had set throughout the Ministry over the last few months. The authorities were all very concerned about the people coming into the building – it was what they did when they got into the hallowed halls that the guards paid no attention to. Colin was willing to bet he could have danced a naked tango for one down the hallways and only a few would have batted an eyelash at him. He'd heard stories about Fudge's tenure, after all. A naked tango for one would be the least of their surprises.
From his rickety desk he pulled out all of the minor problem folders he had been stock piling. Sending them to the secretaries in batches would be easy; the interns were faceless aides in the office, often changing places with each other, getting fired, rehired or switching with other interns with nary a report between them. It was supposedly a training program for Ministry hopefuls. It had been the ideal job for Colin to slip into and take over for his own agenda.
Distributing the files was the easy part. He delivered a few himself, watching as Scrimgeour's office seemed to explode from the inside out. Councilors were shouted for, Aurors were called to report – he was certain none of them would be able to remember which aide they had passed their reports to – after all, there were so many of them and all of them faceless in the eyes of those who felt they controlled all the power in the wizarding world.
After the Minister's office was abuzz with confusion, it was time to set off the alarms. The pranks Hermione had procured for them had been free of charge by the girl – she said she had gotten them as payment for a debt, but debt for what she had never said.
The first few set pixies free in the records rooms, causing the women there to scream and rush in all directions. More Aurors were called in to handle the pests. That was when he set off one of the larger traps. The entire first floor of the Ministry became a fetid swamp, causing the rushing Aurors to sink hip deep in the muck. The horse-flies were an added touch that sent everyone into a flaying panic. The entire building alarm went off. Colin smiled.
The Aurors guarding the door to the department of mysteries rushed from their posts as the alarm blared down the hall. Colin eased out of the Notary Public's empty office and scurried down the hall, his hand tucked into the chest pocket of his robe and the port key in his left hand. If he was discovered he would need to move fast and fumbling for his way out would only cost him time – and perhaps his life.
The Room of Magical Devices was locked, but he had swiped a set of master keys early on in his internship. A few seconds of precious time were wasted in finding the right key and he was in.
The room was full, floor to ceiling, with shelves. It seemed to go on forever in the dusty gloom. A small counter shielded what seemed to be a small waiting area from the rest of the chaos. Colin skirted the counter and the aged recording book that sat in the center, along with a quill and capped inkwell. He wasn't about to record his theft.
He knew the others would need a few minutes to clear the swamp and the other cascading traps he had placed around the building. He needed to use that time to find the time turners and get them ready for quick transport.
There did not seem to be any rhyme or reason to the room of magical devices. Splotchy-looking lamps were piled next to tarnished cups; books of all sorts were piled in whatever space could be found for them. An entire shelf of delicate porcelain unicorns followed his movements with beady black eyes that sent shivers down his spine.
From Hermione's hazy recollections, the time turners were near a corner of the room, but she had neglected to tell him which corner. The one to the far left had plastic spiders spilling across the floor and its opposite had stuffed kneazles in a paper box labeled defective. He really didn't want to know.
He found them just as the others piled into the room, breathless and wide-eyed and babbling something about advancing hordes of Unspeakables clearing the whole building. Colin tossed them each a box of the time turners, gave them all a nod and activated his port key just as the door to the Room of Magical Devices burst open and a team of Aurors rushed inside. Their spells went wide, spilling overstuffed shelves of magical objects to the floor, covering the lingering images of the thieves as they vanished into the night.
End chapter Forty-Seven