Chapter Forty-Eight: The Market
"You know this person, Harry?" Draco looked between them.
The stranger tsked and shook a finger at Harry. "Now, now, Dreamer. Don't you remember what I said about names?"
Harry beamed back at the man, to Draco's disgruntlement. "Sorry, Roan," Harry put their map away in his pocket. "They're new here."
Draco sputtered even as the stranger – Roan – laughed at his expense. "Here now," he began.
"What are you doing here, anyhow?" Roan interrupted, keeping his eyes on Harry. Draco glared at the man and inched closer.
"We're on a bit of a quest," Harry answered.
"Don't just tell him everything," Draco hissed at the other boy. He could sense Severus growing tense at their backs.
"Problem there, blondie?" Roan grinned at them, showing off sharp teeth.
"Roan," Harry shook his head at the man. Draco put his hand on the small of Harry's back and kept his other close to the hilt of his wand.
"We shouldn't talk to him," Severus agreed. "We do not know his allegiances."
"That's a big word," Roan rocked from heel to toe, grinning at Severus. "How many more do you know, laddie?"
Draco could have sworn the temperature around them plummeted by several degrees.
Harry stepped forward, sending a glance over his shoulder to Severus. Draco didn't think the entreaty to the older wizard's limited supply of patience would work, but…
"We really are on a quest," Harry continued. "I'm sure you have an idea as to what and why."
Roan made a face and turned a look towards the gray skies. "You mean you're wrapped up in the mess that's taking over the Otherworld?"
"Sort of," Harry shrugged. "Crom Cruach is back."
Roan moved before Draco could react, clamping a hand over Harry's mouth and staring at him with wide, wild eyes.
"Never, ever say that name," Roan's voice was hoarse. "Never, ever, ever say that name."
Harry pulled free with a sharp look of his own at the man. "It's the truth," he retorted.
"He'll hear you."
"Even here?"
Roan wrapped his arms around his middle and shuddered. "I don't know and I've no wish to find out. Don't say his name, now or ever."
Harry made a face, but Draco could see he was going to let it slide. "We've been told to find an eshu," he said instead.
Roan blinked. "An eshu? Whatever for?"
"To find some people who are lost."
Roan frowned, glancing to Draco, to Snape and then back to Harry. "You really are on a quest."
"Yes. The Morrigan and the Winter King are trapped by…Him. Pythia said I needed to find them and free them before…well, before."
Roan turned away. "That can't be possible. My master, Lugh, he would have known if two of the most powerful gods had gone missing."
"Would he?" Harry tilted his head to one side. "I always got the impression that no one liked the Morrigan and refused to deal with her. The same for the Winter King."
Roan made a helpless gesture. "They are both death gods, to a degree. No one in the bright courts wish to sully themselves with them. And the Morrigan has always been aggressive, everyone knows that."
"She's doing her job," Harry fired back. "What she was made for, just as the others fulfill their roles. Do people look down on them because of it? No. You shouldn't either."
"Hey, hey," Roan held up his hands. "I get you, really I do. But don't you think the other gods would have caught on by now? I mean, if – if He were really back and…stuff?"
Draco was ready to admit – grudgingly – that he might like the other man, with a few Obliviates and a blow to the head on Draco's part. Maybe.
"You just admitted that the Otherworld is having problems," Harry countered. "Pythia…" He faltered and forged on. "Pythia said that with her death, the gazes of the gods would be severed. He moves and all are blind to where he goes." Harry's voice had taken on a peculiar cadence, almost as though…
Draco caught Harry as he swayed on his feet, one hand coming up to rub at his head. "All right there, Harry?"
Roan was watching them with a peculiar expression of his own. "He's no longer just a Dreamer, is he?" Roan asked.
"No," Draco answered. "He's not."
Severus joined them, bending to check Harry's eyes. The other boy tried to squirm away.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just a bit dizzy," but he wouldn't meet Severus' eyes.
"You want to find an eshu," Roan said, jerking their attention back to the selkie.
Draco blinked. "Yes."
"Then you have to leave the false Path you're on."
"False Path?" Severus set a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder as he swayed again.
"Yeah, you've a map, right?" Roan cocked a glance at Harry, who nodded and pulled it out. "See, here, how it looks faded?" Roan crowded close, craning his head to look at the map.
"You can see it too?" Draco asked.
"Of course I can," Roan smirked. "No, when it's faded like that, it's a false Path," he continued, glancing at Harry.
"Where would it have taken us?" Harry traced his finger along the worn skin.
"No where. You've been walking in place."
"Have not!" Draco retorted.
"Have too, blondie," Roan's smirk grew as Draco bristled. "The Path I was on is one of the true Paths. You get pockets like these from time to time. Come, I'll take you to the Market."
"How did you know we needed to go to the Market?" Harry asked as they followed the man into the field.
"You're looking for an eshu," Roan shrugged. "That's where they all are."
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More walking, a few map consultations later and Harry was seriously starting to consider calling a camp. Even Roan was starting to look worried, glancing over at the map every time they found a signpost, checking their options.
"The Market should have been two Paths back," he admitted to Harry as they paused at yet another fork. "The worlds are shifting and I don't know why."
"We'll have to stop for the night," Harry sighed.
"That might not be wise," Snape frowned at them, but Harry's feet and back had had quite enough walking for the day.
"We can't go into this exhausted," he countered. Snape raised an eyebrow at him, causing Harry to duck his head.
"Is there anywhere safe?" Snape directed his next question to the selkie.
Roan squinted at the map and nodded. "Two signposts down, there's a sea port, my home town. You can stay there. We'll be able to find the Market easy from there, but you're right. We should go when we're rested."
"We?" Draco challenged.
Roan clapped a hand to Harry's shoulder with a smile. "More than one world owes this Dreamer a bunch of thanks. Come on, if we hurry, I can get supper started before you all pass out from exhaustion."
Harry smiled at the chipper tone, but his heart gave a small twist at the selkie's words. He had helped to bring the Otherworld back to life, but he had brought back other things as well. He had to wonder when the threefold law of returns would come calling for him. As Pansy liked to claim, no one was exempt. All had to pay the dues for their actions in the end, good or bad.
He hoped the law would hold out for a little longer. He had so much left to do.
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Crom Cruach cackled as the tools of the Norns burned on his pyres, the shrieking of the sacrifices long silenced in the blaze. His Priest fairly radiated power, his dark eyes lowered in honor of his Lord, but standing straight at his side, not groveling like the rest. The God let it slide; his Priest had accomplished the fantastic and had lost none of his soldiers in the process. Even now, Crom Cruach could feel the threads of time untangling, causing the world to go mad at every hitch in the flow. The gods would be panicked. The mortals whipped up to a bloody fury. He would guide them to the edge of the abyss and then…and then…
But there was much to do, yet. Time still struggled on, the frantic caretakers trying to mend what he rent. Another death was needed, another strike against the faltering small army of gods and goddesses of time and fate.
He had the perfect target in mind.
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Draco was jerked awake by the sound of Harry screaming. He collided with Severus as he scrambled to the other boy's side.
"Harry?" Roan rushed into the spare room where the three of them had claimed spaces on the bare floor.
No blood came from Harry this time, a detached part of Draco's brain noted as they tried to keep Harry from harming himself as he thrashed. They were all knocked breathless as the quake hit their pocket of the Otherworld. Everything went gray, blurred and then snapped back into focus, as though Draco had been hit by a Stunner and then a counter curse back to back.
Harry was silent once the world had righted itself. Draco crawled to his side, shaking one too-thin shoulder.
"Harry? Harry, wake up." The trembling that sometimes over took Draco during his wild magic dreams hovered just out of his reach. He saw Roan's narrow look out of the corner of his eye, but ignored the selkie for the time being. Whatever it was, was not important. Harry…
Harry blinked up at him and winced, one hand coming up to shield his eyes. "It's going faster," he rasped.
"Another god?"
Harry nodded, shuddering under Draco's hold. "He…he was strange, I mean, the god. Tan, dark hair and he had this thing…" Harry waved a hand over his head. "He was wearing a skirt, too."
"White?" Roan asked.
"Yes." Harry blinked at the man.
"It's not a skirt, it's an Egyptian thing."
Severus knelt at Harry's side. "An Egyptian god, you think?" He questioned.
"I'm no scholar," Roan shrugged. "But we're not alone in the Otherworld. All gods have their own worlds, their own mythologies to lord over," the smile he gave them was lopsided.
Another quake tore through the room, sending them all flying. Harry cried out, back arching as a glow surrounded him. Draco had a breath to stare at the sight – and then the glow moved to him. It felt like someone was pouring lava over his bones as then took hammers to his skull. He thought he might have screamed, he wasn't sure, as the pain vanished, as quick as it came.
He blinked up at the dusty ceiling, panting for breath. "What…was that?" He tasted blood in his mouth. His inner cheek was bleeding.
Roan's worried face entered his line of sight. "We need to go," the selkie looked pale under his tan. "Things are moving too fast."
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"That has got to stop happening," Pansy moaned from where she had been thrown.
Blaise checked on Neville, but the former Gryffindor was fine, already up and helping a few younger years to their feet. He noticed the small flash of light go off over the dorm entrance – someone not of their House was outside and trying to get in.
Blaise picked his way across the room, avoiding tossed furniture and shards of glass from the fallen mirrors. He opened the door and ended up with a double armful of bloody Hermione and a crowd of strangers pressing at her heels.
"Bloody hell," he grunted as he hauled the half-conscious girl upright. "You'd better hurry up, Draco."
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"Where's the Market?" Harry asked as he struggled to keep pace with the nervous selkie.
"It was down this Path to the Old Sign Post – it's just called that I don't know why – and then across. I hope it's still there."
"You think it's moved?" Draco asked.
"I think a lot of things. Right now I'm trying not to think about a great deal of them."
"There is no need for such a tone," Snape sniffed.
Harry watched as a muscle in Roan's cheek jumped. "Are you still coming with us?" He jumped in before the selkie and the Potions Master could get into another row.
A few lines eased from Roan's face. "Of course I am," the selkie's chin came up. "I wouldn't leave you high and dry like that. Selkies keep their word."
Harry ignored Draco's eye roll and let out a soft, relieved breath. Having a native guide would save them a lot of time, especially on the way back, in case…
He wrested his thoughts from that particular future and focused on keeping pace with the party. It sucked to be the shortest of the group.
Seeing the possible futures was easier in the Otherworld – just as keeping them at bay was easier as well. The Paths they had walked seemed to also buffer the effect of seeing multiple futures. The few people they had passed had had a vague sort of haze around them that Harry could bring into focus if he squinted, but it was nothing like the constant bombardment he got the longer he went in Hogwarts' crowded halls.
Harry cut a glance at Draco, noting the faint lines around his eyes and mouth. No one knew why the magic had jumped from Harry to Draco. Harry felt guilty at having put the other boy through his routine agony – a sentiment Draco had not approved of and told Harry as much. Why Harry shouldn't feel guilty was beyond him – but he had not said as much to the blond. Draco was taxed enough in the strange world, surrounded by strange people who made any Slytherin worth their salt more than a little paranoid. Harry figured he was still part Gryffindor in that regard.
Harry followed the selkie down into the heart of the small village Roan called home. The smell of the sea was heavy on the air; the brine from the breakwater, the lingering odor of the fish market and tar from the docks, it all mingled together in the air, causing Harry's nose to twitch. He heard Snape sneeze and swear – Harry would have never had guessed that the Potions Master had such a sensitive nose.
They bypassed the long docks and small harbor, following a hard-packed trail of sand and dirt. Low shrubs lined their path on one side, on the other shop after shop lined the small beach that formed after the wall of the harbor gave away.
They went single file down the path; to their right, next to the shops, was an actual road lined with cobblestones. All of the buildings were dark, made of weathered wood and painted every shade of the rainbow. The buildings were two to three stories tall and here and there Harry could spot lights in some of the upper windows, the yellow glow of candles peeking out around the edges of drawn curtains.
The path led down to the town square, where three old sigh posts were placed in a triangle. The area was paved with circles of different colored cobblestones, the concentric circles causing Harry's eyes to cross as he stared.
"Here we are," Roan took a deep breath and motioned for Harry to join him with the map. Together they watched the map flicker to life as they faced each of the signposts.
"Thank all the gods," Roan let out a shaky sign. "The Market is stable."
"Where to?" Draco pressed close to Harry's side, one hand on the smaller boy's waist.
"That way," Roan pointed at the most worn of the three stone posts. "It's one of the oldest markets in this part of the Otherworld. We're sure to find an eshu there."
Together they stepped up to the signpost and across, entering into yet another world.
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Ginny signed her name with a hasty scrawl, using her free hand to dash tears from her face. She was tired of crying – she reached out and gripped her Jaredth, drawing the cane close to her side. She was tired of being stupid, despite Pansy's claim that it was mostly Fondorn's work that had influenced her choices during the last few months. She'd had enough of being a pawn. She was going to change that, one way or another.
She opened the top drawer of her desk and rooted around under the pile of detritus that always seemed to grow. She found the small charm Bill had given her before the end of summer holiday – it would deliver her letters to him directly, without the use of owl post. It was something the goblins had let him claim from his last excavation and he had given it to her. She had to wonder how much her brother had guessed at what was going on. He had seemed normal at the winter holidays, but Bill had already moved out of the house by the time Ginny was old enough to remember clearly. She had always loved her brother, but she did not really know that much about him.
She sealed the letter with the special wax he had given her and touched the charm to the wax. She had never used the charm before, preferring to send her letters to Sirius and then on to International wizard post. She did not have time for that, now.
With a pop, the letter vanished from her desk. She strung the charm on a thin gold chain and slipped it over her head, letting the metal warm against her skin.
All her hopes depended on the letter she had just sent. If the family she had dreamed about had any chance of reforming, it all depended on if Bill received her letter in time.
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"We'll need one here and here," Sasha pointed at the detailed plans of the castle.
"But what about here," Hermione pointed at a spot near Hagrid's hut.
"It's in the middle of a field."
"Yes, but two of the wards intersect there. It will hold up the western side of the castle grounds."
"We can repair the grounds," Neville countered. "We can't repair the castle if it's ripped apart."
"Of for…fine," Hermione threw her hands into the air. "But we need a secondary anchor on that side of the castle. Securing the hot houses should be a priority as well."
"Why?" Blaise arched an eyebrow at the Gryffindor.
"Because, you dolt, if we end up caught in a time loop – of if, Merlin forbid, Harry fails – we might e suck here longer than we know."
There was a small moment of silence. "Oh, bugger all," Blaise muttered, glaring down at the plans. "That changes a lot of things."
Sasha rubbed at her temples. "We'll take the fields then. We'll need the animal pens if worse comes to worst. Eating house elves is just awful. I'd rather a steady supply of chicken." She ignored the gagged sounds coming from the small group of exiles seated near them.
None of the Slytherins tried to interact with the exiles much. Sasha still didn't trust any of them, despite what Hermione said. The one in charge, Colin, was a shifty-looking sort. She narrowed her eyes at him, watching as he glanced at Hermione more than the plans laid out in front of them. Exiled at fourteen for deliberate interaction with muggles – at twenty he had put together quite the crew of criminals, one of which Sasha was sure to incur the wrath of their Head of House. To let any black market potions master into their sanctuary was something Severus Snape would have been livid about in any event, end of the world or not.
"How many of the time turners do we have?" Sasha squinted at the northern section of the castle.
"Twenty three."
She let out a sigh. "To do this right, we need to place them on all of the main anchor points and start them all at the exact same time. That should…"
"Should?" Colin interrupted.
"That should," she forged on, "create a temporary plane for all of the grounds. The Headmaster has agreed to stay in his office for the duration – He'll hold the wards. If he falls, we all fall."
"How's his health?" Neville asked.
"Madam Pomfrey will be there everyday. You've felt how strong he is," Sasha shook her head. "It will be a constant drain on his magical reserves, but if Harry and Draco succeed, then it should be fine."
"And if they don't?" Colin asked.
"Then we'll burn that bridge when we get to it," Sasha forced out through clenched jaws. Colin looked like he was ready to argue some more, but Hermione put a hand on his arm and the man shut up.
"So, we have twelve points to secure the plane of this reality," Blaise touched the small token nearest him. They had fashioned small tokens to mark their choices in lieu of marking the plans with ink.
"Where are the teachers?" One of the exiles – Mike, Sasha thought his name was – asked.
"They're with Dumbledore at the moment," Hermione answered. "They will hold each of the dormitories, so that accounts for four more time turners."
"Oh, damn," Sasha blinked and sat up straight. "We need a new Head."
There were a variety of curses around her.
"Can a prefect fill in?" Someone asked.
"No," Sasha ground her teeth together. "We need the Head of House or his closest relative – someone with enough power…"
The all shouted when their floo flared with vivid green fire and a man rolled out of the ash. A furious Lucius Malfoy stared at them all, not batting an eye at the forest of wands pointed at his heart.
"Where, exactly, is Severus Snape and my son," he snarled into the silent room.
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Janus touched the worn pillars of his temple, the ruined glory returning to its once vivid splendor as he watched.
Time shuddered, the strange ripples distorting his view. He could feel the gods of his ancient city, native and foreign, reaffirming their bonds with their temples. Rome's populace boiled, the mortals wild and angry, thronging in the ancient necropolis, surrounding a giant building Janus had no memory of at all. All of the graves were gone as well – from the few explosions and angry mortals he had crossed, he had found that many of the more minor deities had not taken well to the fact that the One God's temple had taken over their sacred sites.
Still, the mortals and their angry panic were starting to worry him. Their refusal of the miracles Mars had created, covering his fields with a wheat harvest Janus had never before seen, was strange. From what he had heard from the other gods, the mortals reactions were happening all over, almost as if the silly creatures had forgotten about the gods and magic.
Unbelievable.
His head went up as a rainbow arched over the entire city. Janus could taste snow in the air – the sudden appearance caused the mortals outside his temple to wail in fear. They had been doing that more of late.
The pair of armed females landed in front of him as he exited his temple. Their arms and helm proclaimed them as valkyrie, but the grief on their faces caused a chill of fear to touch his spine.
"Greetings," he inclined his head.
The pair spoke in unison. "Greetings, Janus, god of Rome. Odin All-Father sends you this message. The Norns are gone, burnt to death at the base of Yggdrasil. Ra from the desert bids us warn the others; Hauh has perished as well. Mind the keepers, Janus, god of Rome." The women gasped as another time ripple shuddered over the city. Bifrost disappeared in a shower of sparkles and the valkyrie vanished.
The chill of fear had turned into a giant ball of dread – he feared the valkyries' warning had come too late. As he watched the skies above his beloved city buckled and start to fold, he knew he was right.
Fortuna was gone.
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"Welcome to the Market," Roan stepped aside so they could get a good look.
Harry gaped as he looked out over the cliff they had arrived on. Below them, the Market seemed to stretch on forever; it was made up primarily of tents of all colors and sizes. The sharp scent of exotic spices floated up on the breeze. The faint thrum of chimes and people hovered in the ether.
The Market was set into a small depression; around the rim, signpost after signpost sprouted up from the Dark. Harry could see neither limit nor the other edge of the Market from their vantage point.
"How many Paths lead to this place?" He put a hand to his chest. His heart was starting to pound and he did not know why.
"More than fifty," Roan stepped forward, making for the broad path that led down the rim and into the Market.
"Fifty?" Draco choked.
"All sorts come here, bright court and dark; foreign gods and acolytes," Roan tossed a smile over his shoulder. "They say Danu and Dagda called this placed home before they created the worlds and the gods."
"Is that true?" Harry hurried to catch up to the man's long strides.
"Don't know," Roan shrugged. "That was long before my time. We will find help here, though. I'd bet on it."
"Now you've jinxed us," Draco muttered.
Roan seemed to miss a step, catching himself on Harry's shoulder. "You follow the old ways?" The selkie turned a surprised look onto the blond.
"Of course I do," Draco growled back.
"Will wonders never cease," Roan said and it took Harry stepping between them to keep Draco from hexing the man.
The rim separating the Market from the entry points wasn't very tall, perhaps three stories at most. Harry could see a steady stream of people bustling through the stalls, but…
"Is it always this empty?" Snape voiced his concern.
"We're in the Between hours," Roan said. "Too earl for the morning Market, too late for the Night Market."
"We were warned to stay away from the Night Market," Draco said.
Roan nodded. "That would be smart, if you were alone." He thumped his chest, causing the small medallion around his throat to jump. "You're with me, though and that makes all the difference."
Whatever response Draco had ready for that remark was swallowed by their entry into the Market itself.
There was no order to it that Harry could see. Rows of tents seemed to be added at random, causing small alleys to appear between the rows of larger tents. The odor of cooking food made Harry's stomach rumble. They had had little time to stop for food in the hustle to leave for the Market. Perhaps…
"You're hungry?" Roan asked, his brows drawing together.
"Yes…shouldn't I be?" Harry placed a hand over the offending area.
"I…" Roan shook his head, trailing off to mutter under his breath.
"Here," Draco pushed a bar of dried…something into his hands. "The house elves made these. They're pretty good."
Harry wrinkled his nose. "Looks awful."
"It's made with honey," Draco took a bite of his own, as though to make a point.
Harry nibbled on the edges, tasting cinnamon and sugar more than honey. He followed the still-muttering Roan into the Market and tried to ignore the tasty smells wafting from some of the vendors. Draco and Severus weren't having any problems. Harry chalked it up to his being weird yet again.
The press of futures was prominent in the market, almost as bad as Hogwarts on a bad day. They hadn't gone more than a few feet into the Market proper when Harry glued himself to Draco's side and had a death grip on the blond's hand.
"Harry?" Draco's lips touched his ear.
"Strands," he choked out through a mouthful of dried granola. Draco's hand tightened on his and the looming strands eased back bit by bit.
The further into the Market they went, the more elaborate some of the tents became. Some had grown past the tents and made actual buildings, though they were few and far between. The longer they were there, the more foot traffic began to fill the dusty streets. Fabled creatures from every story Harry had ever read about were everywhere he turned his head.
Of them all, the locals to the Market gave Draco the widest berth. A few seemed to recognize Harry and he thought he heard a faint cry of "Dreamer!" go up in one alley. But no one rushed him, like the mobs of the wizarding folk had from time to time. One or two brave souls had taken a step towards them, only to pull back when they saw Draco. Harry wondered what they saw when they looked at the other boy.
Roan led them past a row of jewelers, all of them watching their small party with wide eyes. Draco's gaze lingered on the stalls, his pale eyes caught by the glittering jewels. They almost ran into Roan as the selkie came to a sudden stop in the middle of the road.
"Lugh's balls," Roan muttered. "This would happen with you lot."
Harry peered around Roan, even as Draco struggled to tear his gaze away from the shiny objects lining their path.
A line of men – at least Harry thought they were men – in brightly patterned robes stood in front of them. They all had turbans on their heads, reminding Harry uncomfortably of Professor Quirrell.
"Who are they?" Harry whispered to Roan.
"The people you've been looking for," the man in the center answered. His face and hands were all the visible skin Harry could see. It was tanned like old leather, wrinkled around the eyes and mouth. The man's turban was a deep purple, as were his robes. The robe stopped short, near the thigh, showing sturdy leather pants and boot, as if the man had dressed ready for travel and not pleasure.
"Rasheed," Roan said. "I thought you had faded."
"I had," the man inclined his head and moved his gaze to Harry. "I was woken."
Harry tried to swallow the dried granola in his mouth and failed, coughing up a lung instead. He was forced to hang onto Draco as Severus pushed a canteen into Harry's hand and helped him take a drink.
It wasn't the manliest image he could have presented. His face was flushed with more than his exhortations when he looked up at the crowd.
The man Roan had named as Rasheed was several steps closer than Harry remembered. Up close, Harry could tell the eshu – he had to be an eshu – was the oldest of the lot, his dark hair peppered more with silver than dark strands.
"Are you well, Dreamer?" the man asked, hands folding into the sleeves of his robe as he stood his ground.
"Fine, thanks," Harry rasped out.
A smile touched the corners of the man's mouth. "We have been waiting for you," he said.
Harry blinked and glanced around. Many of the shops had closed up their fronts, the vendors vanishing.
"I…hope that's a good thing," Harry said, flexing his grip on Draco's hand. Draco squeezed back. Harry could see the hilt of the blond's wand in his free hand.
"Oh, yes," Rasheed smiled, even as the whole world seemed to shatter around them. "It is."
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Lucius felt the Slytherin Head of House position settle over his shoulders like a physical weight. He rolled his head from side to side hearing the vertebra crack and pop as tension settled into his frame.
At least Severus had not allowed Draco to go alone, Lucius' hand tightened around his cane. When he had seen both Draco and Severus' clock hands in the mortal peril position…He wasn't sure if the current chaos in the world was what allowed the old floo passages to reconnect or not, but he was willing to take every short cut to the castle he could get his Slytherin hands on. He would be at the school when his lover and his son returned or he would find a way into the Otherworld himself and drag them out, so help him Merlin. He refused to lose another person he held dear to the jaws of war. He categorically refused. They would have to go through him, first.
The position as temporary Head of Slytherin House meant he could not leave the ancient quarters until the world righted itself. Before he had left the Manor, Lucius had gotten a number of reports about a major theft at the Ministry – it rankled, a bit, to know that a Gryffindor and her exile friends had been the ones to set that escapade into motion and not a Slytherin. Still, the youths of his former House were putting in a fine showing of their own on the placement of the time turners. Constant runners to and from the other Professors kept them in on the loop – Flitwick was a virtue to their planning, as the Head of Ravenclaw had had the most use with the time turners than all of the rest of them combined.
Most of the objects had been set in place – there were just three more that needed to be set and they would be ready. Lucius knew they were running out of time. Outside the castle, the storms had begun; great sheets of lightning flashing over the Forbidden Forest, sparking fires in the inner depths. The skies had not dimmed to a night's full darkness in over a full day. The skies remained a muddy reddish gray, as though a great fire roared just over the edge of the far horizon. It put everyone's nerves on edge.
Lucius had never put much thought as to Severus' position as Head of Slytherin House. He would have to commend the Potions Master when he saw him next. The strain was taxing, even in the short amount of time Lucius had filled in the role.
He settled into a plush chair near the hearth. Messages were being run in from the common room, since the school floo seemed to muck with the stability of the House wards when they tried to connect to the hearth in the Head of House's private rooms.
"Sir?" A young girl padded up to his side. "Another message from Professor Flitwick, sir."
"Thank you," he took the creased note. Flitwick was concerned over the stability of the Infirmary – good man, Lucius noted. Poppy will have to take vows to the castle to correct that. He noted down his thoughts and sent it off. It was frustrating, in a way, to be bound, helpless in a room while children – children – ran about securing their boarders. It must be borne, he reminded himself with a sigh. Until they get back and the world will be saved. Somehow. Again.
Lucius pushed away the heavy doubt that lingered like an ague in the back of his mind. Even he was not sure how the world could be saved from the brink of insanity it was perched upon.
He hoped the three travelers in the Otherworld had a better idea than he.
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Bill jerked awake, ears ringing with the sound of clear trumpets. He rubbed at his eyes, flinching away when he poked himself in the forehead with his wand. He had grabbed it out of reflex and had not let go.
His heart was thundering in his chest, but even that could not drown out the sounds that had filled his dreams for nights on end. Trumpets, horns, any number of variations would chase him awake night after night, sweating hard and panting for breath. Always, always the Black Manor stood in his dreams, like some silent sentinel that judged him every time he closed his eyes. The dreams were starting to affect his work, making him jumpy and forgetful. The goblins had already hinted that perhaps he should take another vacation. His aide from Gringott's was in favor of the idea and urged him to go see his family on a daily basis. For a goblin, the offer was extraordinary. Bill surmised that he must look like he was at death's door to get such a generous consideration.
Bill dropped his hands and considered the option. He was leery of returning to the boiling pot of whatever was going on at the Black Manor – something was off in that House and he could not put his finger on what. He had been tempted to use his skills as a cursebreaker the last time he was there…but Ginny's pleading had stopped him at the last minute. His sister was petrified of losing her new father's regard - which was silly, since Bill knew that Sirius thought Ginny hung the moon. Even Remus' quiet acceptance was bothering – the werewolf Bill remembered was more than happy to challenge Sirius' declarations and go head to head with the animagus in a full on shouting match from time to time. But at Yule…The house had been quiet. Too quiet, now that he reflected on it.
The soft chime of priority mail made him blink into the gloom. The sand, sand and more sand of the desert was difficult to keep out at the best of times. Now that the world was tilting at the edge, the sand storms were rampaging across their new excavation site every other day, making it impossible to work. It was yet another thing that had added to Bill's problems with sleeping. No work meant no pay for his grunt labor and every day there were pushed back on their schedule meant another man he lost at the end of the week.
Bill was pretty much convinced that fate was out to turn him gray long before his time.
He padded over to his mail slot in his boxers; the tent was too hot to sleep in anything else. At such a new site, Bill preferred to have quarters at the dig, instead of the nearest town. More than once he had defended Gringott's claim on the treasures against would-be treasure hunters. Gringotts had paid him back with loyalty – and a larger cut of the final sum from those digs.
The letter that lay in the special tray, however, was not a standard Gringott's notice. The plain parchment was embellished with a plain black wax seal, with a stylized letter in the center. He knew that seal. There was only one like it in the world he had found.
He tore open Ginny's letter and scanned the contents. The ringing in his ears seemed to grow louder. A few minutes later had most of the camp awake and aware that he was going on vacation. Immediately.
Bill was on his way to Black Manor.
End Chapter Forty-Eight