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A Clock on the Face of Hell

Chapter 1: The Devil and the Clock

I've never liked closed spaces. I don't know if it's a result of living in a cupboard for ten years or knowing how vulnerable you are to an attack, though frankly, I didn't care either. I knew I disliked closed spaces, especially those that were underground, like dark caves and small, narrow tunnels, such as the ones we found ourselves in.

My companion of one month knew that. Even if he hadn't known before we came, he certainly did now. I had been complaining about the lack of oxygen, the potential for disaster and the creatures that lurk in the dark for a while now. And I was still going strong.

"There better be a fucking veela at the end of this shit-hole, Filius."

The half-goblin gave me a resigned look before turning around and resuming his climb. The little man was almost at home in the dark tunnel. He hopped easily from boulder to boulder, skipped over cracks in the rock and ducked effortlessly while I struggled to match his pace.

It had taken me a while to adjust to Filius. I, of course, remembered him from back at school. He had always been that rather eccentric but good-natured professor that could make you work your hardest without being harsh or strict. Back then I used to think he was alright – liked him even – but over the years I had learned not to judge someone by the face they showed to the world, and in Filius Flitwick's case, experience proved me right once again.

Oh, the man was cheerful and likeable, alright. But just because he smiled didn't mean he was a push-over. And just because he used to be Head of Ravenclaw didn't mean he was lost in a sea of books and theories either. It didn't happen often, but once in a while I got to see that other side of Filius Flitwick, the ugly side of a man that had once been so brutal and ruthless that had killed his opponent in an international dueling tournament...

…And isn't guilt a wonderful thing?

As we walked through the endless, narrow tunnel Filius would hold a piece of weathered, old parchment and consult it under the light of his wand, muttering under his breath things like, "...Shall be safe at thine home…the Lord's lore…", "…Into the coldest fires of Time…a path of Old", or "…And power in a circle…walk through Time."

My job was to keep the slippery path illuminated and to check for traps or any kind of danger. It was so unbelievably dull and wearisome that I took to magically prodding every hole, boulder, plant or rock that looked out of place.

However, the longer we walked the fewer things out of place I could spot. It felt like we had been underground for hours. At first I would pull out my pocket watch to check the time, but I soon noticed the damn thing had stopped working. The arrows had stuck at 3:04 a.m. and didn't look like they'd be moving anytime soon.

"How long do you think we've been here, Fil?" I asked.

Filius gave me a look I knew all too well. "We've been over this, Harry," he said, his tone patient, the same he'd use whenever I asked that question. "Just remember to keep your eyes on the path and your ears on the wall. There's no telling what could come next."

"Right."

I was pretty sure what would come next – a dark, long and damp tunnel – but I kept my thoughts to myself.

We had travelled all the way from Ireland to France, and we couldn't even apparate. We had had to take a series of inconveniently-charmed portkeys, which resulted in too much walking and too long days and nights of sharing motels and tents.

Ireland and France aren't even that far apart. Hell, we could've taken the Muggle underground to go from London to Paris. But according to the Magical Empire of Britain's laws, wizards and witches travelling outside the borders required a class 2 passport, whether they used magic or not, and the busiest means of transportation were monitored for trespassers.

Neither Filius nor I could go to the government and request travelling authorization by portkey, apparition or train. It was either flying or taking the ferry, which also constituted risks. I wasn't the most inconspicuous person in the country, to say the least. Add the midget to the mix and we had opted for flying past the tracking wards and the use of random portkeys.

So we had ended up jumping from country to country to avoid being tracked until we got to Lac du Der-Chanteqoc, an artificial lake in northern France known for its large colony of merfolk and a hefty population of the Common Crane, a large bird that makes a strange trumpeting noise and enjoys dancing with its wings uplifted.

And now that long part of our journey – the easiest in every way – was over. At least our one-week trip had included fresh air, good food and comfortable beds. This part included hard, unyielding rock, canned goods and stale, almost putrid air, and seemed to encourage headaches and severe disorientation.

But Dimassio's Clock could be here, so we kept walking, clinging to the desperate hope of a last second chance.

As the stillness grew tense and our patience thin Filius, who disliked silences as much as I disliked closed spaces, began talking. It was idle, pointless conversation centred on the very few memories we had in common, but it kept our minds from the never-ending path. When it became clear we had no other moments to share with each other (I refused to talk about life in the last few years) he turned to the topic of what to do if our plan worked and what we would like to see and do.

"Personally, I would like to see old acquaintances again," Filius wistfully told me. "Imagine seeing them all young. Of course, you had not even been born back then, but the world was different, Harry, vastly different. There was peace and a care-free atmosphere I confess to miss. War was fought in places that seemed far way, much too far for us mere mortals to concern ourselves with it."

Hearing Filius talk with longing about the golden days was somewhat soothing. It brought forth painful memories, images and moments of the old times that were mostly best left forgotten. But among death, destruction and despair there were also memories of my friends and lovers, of the brief moments of peace.

"We should think of this opportunity as a privilege, Harry, one that many – me, among others – would do far worse than killing to experience. After all, who hasn't dreamed of being young again?"

When Filius first managed to contact me and suggested this scheme I hadn't even considered the possible, more pleasant side-effects. For me the plan was a tool to be used, a way to right the mistakes that were made and rip to pieces those that had wronged me and mine. I was a man with a single-track mind. I had lived alone, bitter and hopeless for so long that the idea of a second life sounded almost foreign, like a dream only others were allowed to have.

For some reason Dumbledore came to mind. He would've been disappointed in me, I was sure. He would've been patronizingly understanding, of course, but he had expected more from me, that much I knew. Yet I had changed. The fine line between dark and light magic had blurred for me, while the people that wielded them had settled firmly into black and white, with no shades of grey; I would either slaughter or protect, I only saw foe or friend.

"What about you?" Filius asked. "Anything in particular you wish to change for the better? Besides the obvious, of course."

"Not really," I answered curtly.

Filius looked sad at my answer. For a moment I felt ashamed of myself. This man had been through hell too. What right did I have to ruin his one moment of blissful day-dreaming? But then the feeling was replaced with bitterness. I didn't want pity or sympathy.

"Do you not have any dreams, Harry?" Filius asked, softer this time, as if he were afraid of my answer. "Before this, before Voldemort, and the Empire, and the war – did you not have dreams, aspirations? What did you want for yourself when you were younger?"

"Nothing, Filius, nothing," I answered, trying to reign in my bitterness. "I want to go back and change things, is all. And in case you haven't noticed, we're still far from making the leap, if we even can. I say concentrate on the tunnel first. If we ever make it to where we have to be and all goes well, then, and only then, I'll think about the future."

Filius shook his head sadly, lost in his own thoughts. I didn't know how long I could've kept my resentment at bay if the conversation went too deep. But all he eventually said was, "Call me a dreamer, Harry, but I believe life will one day show you its brighter side."

So focused on Filius' words I failed to skip a familiar crevice in the rock and tripped. I barely managed to keep myself from biting the cold rocks by breaking the fall with my hands. My companion heard me curse and walked back to help me up.

"Thanks," I said, a bit embarrassed.

"No matter," Filius said. "Are you alright?" I nodded and plucked a thin shard of rock from out of my hand. He smiled. "Good. Let's get going then. And do try to see where you place your feet."

"Har, har."

He grinned toothily and resumed walking deeper into the tunnels. I patted myself to make sure nothing was missing. I sighed. It's a wonder my pocket watch had survived so many falls. I quickly spotted it under the glow of my wand, a few feet back the way we'd come from, its golden surface reflecting the light.

I picked it up and jogged to catch up with the half-goblin, who could walk quite fast despite his short legs. He hadn't moved much, however. I found him standing still with a look of utmost concentration and perhaps confusion on his face.

"Filius?" I prompted. "Soiled your underwear already?"

He gave me one of those looks and pointed at the path ahead of us. He said, "Don't you see something...different? I – it feels different already."

I shrugged. It looked quite similar to me, if not identical; the same strange weeds, the slippery, damp surfaces, the rocks lying about randomly... But then I saw it. Or felt it. As if I veiled had been lifted from my senses I sensed the dormant magic around us, a soft, almost delicate thrumming of old power unperturbed by the passing of time, flowing from the back to beyond our line of sight.

"I see it," I said, whispering for some reason. "And you're right. The tunnel changed."

"I believe..." he muttered slowly. "Yes, I believe it has. I wonder what brought this about..."

"I have absolutely no idea," I said. "Only thing we did different is me falling like a klutz."

"Yes, strange. Very Strange," Filius said, his eyes taking in the changes. Poor scholar looked dumbfounded. "Do you suppose stopping made the difference? Or perhaps walking the other way? Perhaps we had been walking in a circle and going backwards broke the enchantment."

"Sounds reasonable," I said. "But does it matter?" I didn't care about reasons as long as we were making progress. "Let's call it life showing me its brighter side and move on."

Filius shook his head. He motioned for me to follow him as he resumed the slow trek. "Alright, cheeky brat," he said, "you walk in front if the tunnel's sudden benevolence isn't of importance."

"Sure thing, boss," I said, feeling quite pleased with the sudden turn of events. "Whatever gets this hunt moving."

The tunnel started narrow but widened quickly as we advanced. Every now and then there was a sudden turn, a definite improvement over the straight path we'd left behind. We went left, right, right, left, right, left, left, and soon I lost count. We were probably miles under the surface by now.

"Good show," I said. "To the cold fires of Time."

"And the lore of Seigneur Dimassio," he added excitedly.

Whereas the previous tunnels had looked like they'd been dug through sheer force – blasting curses and the like – this one was much smoother, and it looked like it had been used for more than just collecting weeds and pungent air. It practically screamed of wizard presence.

The ground was even and dry, no longer slippery. The path had widened, the walls were flat and the ceiling tall. There were drawings on the walls, carved with chisel and wand, including a particularly disturbing one of the Devil holding a large clock with both hands over his head. At seemingly random intervals we would come across metal brackets fixed to the walls, occasionally holding wooden torches that had long since burned out and their magic was now dead.

I was encouraged by how different our path was from what we've been through before. Even though I couldn't see anything that remotely alluded to the third line – 'coldest fires of Time' – we were in high spirits. I could sense we were almost there too.

Filius commented on how the ominous painting of the Devil was recurrent. We kept seeing it at what I soon noticed to be a fixed pattern of around two hundred feet apart. But only a few more obstacles to overcome and I would be the one holding the Clock in one hand and the world in the other.

And fuck the Devil.

As time wore on and the path sloped downwards our excitement slowly dissipated and weariness came back with a vengeance.

The long walk soon had us both irritated and snappy. I was sweating. My robes stuck to my body and I felt uncomfortable in them. No matter how many cooling charms we used the temperature had been steadily building up and our magic had been ignored. My patience – not my most developed trait – was at its end.

At some point Filius once again started some idle conversation to keep our minds off the seemingly endless quest. I soon tired of the nonstop babbling of my companion. He tended to talk too much when bored. I was more of a quiet person, not used to having companionship for long periods of time. His incessant chatter ground on my nerves and despite my short and uninterested responses Filius refused to shut up.

And to make things worse, the Devil – the same damn illustration of the bastard – kept showing up in intervals, mocking me with his possession of the clock. At one point I stopped and glared at it, daring him to move. The absurdity of my actions soon filtered through my brain and I turned and strode away. But the next time I walked past one of its illustrations I started to feel uncomfortably exposed and once or twice I thought I'd seen the vacant spot where its eyes should be follow my progress.

After an uncertain amount of time agonizing over the same unchallenging path we discovered the reason our cooling charms failed and the temperature rose.

"What do you think?" Filius asked.

"Many things, Filius, and none of them good."

We stared at the abyss of fire. The tunnel ended abruptly and the ground vanished. We stood at the very edge. The huge cavern was as wide and long as a Quidditch pitch was wide. Another step forward and we'd fall and burn. I hadn't imagined this to be the 'coldest fires of Time'.

There was magic in the air. Not the one you choke on in cheesy romance novels, but the kind you expect to find on ground zero, where fire burns everywhere and everything else dies. I recognized the fire as Gubraithian fire, a type of flame that never goes out but doesn't spread by itself.

That was good news, at least, for it suggested someone had deliberatively cast the ever-lasting fire from the very bottom of the trench right up to be level with the end of the tunnel we stood on. As long as this was an original part of the defences set to keep most out but some in we were fine, we had a chance. I knew we would cross it somehow.

Filius shielded his eyes from the fire's harsh glare and pointed at the other side of the abyss. He said, "Can you make out that…platform? What is that?"

Through the billowing smoke I could see the hazy outline of something that looked like a doorway. It was certainly unlike the tunnel we stood in. There was definitely a door, probably the entrance to Dimassio's quarters.

"That's our way out, alright," I said. "Looks like a doorway to me. Just cross the fire and we're there."

I looked down at the fire. The heat was overwhelming. I thought about drowning the enchantment, the only way it could be put out. It would take a tremendous amount of power, for no doubt this trap had been cast in more than one day – more than a month, probably – but it was doable.

"So this is it?" I asked, and part of me was deeply disappointed at the lack of a proper obstacle. "We walk for miles and our only challenge is this? The son of the most powerful wizard in the history of France defends his tomb and possessions with a long walk, creepy pictures and a small pit of fire?"

"Your arrogance will kill you, Harry," Filius said. He didn't look pleased with my attitude. In fact, he didn't look pleased with anything. Not that I could blame him; I felt the exact same way. "We are risking everything to make the leap. Should we fail again, you know what will happen – you see it every day. So lose that arrogance and think things through."

I shook my head. The half-goblin was much too serious sometimes. A healthy dose of dark humour was what kept my head in place, especially when I was feeling frustrated and out of patience. Filius dealt with his nightmares and problems with formality and detachedness. Everyone coped their own way, I supposed, but that didn't mean I liked him pissing on my parade.

"Whatever, Filius," I said. "Just tell me how to make it to the other side. Only way I can think of is to dispel the fire. Thoughts?"

"You won't be able to, Harry," Filius said, and through his irritation I thought he sounded a bit patronizing. It instantly got on my nerves for some reason. "This is Gubraithian fire. It is no ordinary flame. It will burn forever, undisturbed by the lack of oxygen or the matter thrown at it. Our best chance is to avoid it. For you to engage in a power struggle would be useless and foolish."

I gritted my teeth. "I don't think so," I said. "The fire will burn no matter what we use to protect ourselves. The only way forward is by putting it out."

"Perhaps, Harry, but I believe you are wrong," he said and sighed, as if sharing his thoughts with me was pointless. "There are many paths we can explore. We can find the focal point, we can try and create a portkey or we can levitate ourselves over the fire. Notice it only rises up at ground level? There are many possibilities. Do try to be reasonable."

"Reasonable? I'll give you reasonable, you dolt," I hissed. "A portkey won't work. This whole complex is layered with protections against apparition and portkeys, as we found out when we first stepped inside. Levitation won't work either, no matter how high you put yourself in the air – the fire is too strong. No amount of cooling charms will counter it." I glared at him. "And don't even give me that shit about the focal point. How the fuck are you going to find it with all that fire? It could be anywhere! We don't have time for this, Filius."

"Ah, but time is all we do have," Filius said.

"Spare me, man, we don't have that much time. Someone could come 'round any minute. I'd like to search for that damn clock without Aurors trying to curse me." I motioned for him to move away from the edge. "Step aside, Filius, I'll do it."

"Patience is a virtue, Harry," Filius said, "and rashness is often the downfall of youth. I know the long walk has left us exhausted and aggravated. But let us think this quietly and patiently, for with enough time we are sure to –"

But I was having none of it. I was past the point of caring.

"Cut the bullshit, for fuck's sake!" I said. "I won't waste time looking for a solution that already exists, you conceited prick. Step aside now or I'll move you."

Filius' face clouded. "You'd do well to remember I am not one of your friends, Potter. And as such, I demand respect from you, no matter how important you think you are. Are we clear?"

My temper reared its ugly head, always too close to the surface these days.

I grabbed the half-goblin's shoulder and spun him to face me. "I will say this only once, man, before I snap," I said, the warning in my tone evident. "Do not patronize me. Do not treat me like an idiot. And whatever you do, don't tell me what I can or can't do, damn it! I'm not sixteen years old anymore, Professor, and you don't even know me! Got it?"

Filius looked startled for a moment. Then his expression shifted to anger, his face grim and eyes narrowed. His wrinkled frown and flared nostrils gave him a possessed look, unnatural almost.

"Wake up, Potter!" he said coldly and pushed me against the wall. "This is not one of your little adventures in a magical castle. What is wrong with you? A mistake won't cost you points now, you idiot. If you fail, the consequence is death – death for me and for you, and for everyone else that is counting on you. Now stop stroking your overly-fucking-inflated ego and –"

"ENOUGH!"

I roughly grabbed the midget from the scruff of his neck and tossed him aside. My breath came out harshly. I turned and stood tall before the raging inferno and magic flared dangerously. I lifted both arms at shoulder level and my wand jumped to my hand from the holster on my forearm. Wind came from nowhere and my black cloak billowed behind me.

It couldn't have lasted more than thirty seconds.

Strange stray thoughts tried to disrupt my focus, but they failed; my mind was solely on the fire. I brought my hands down and crouched to touch the warm rock. The wind swirling around me roared as I fed it power, its rushing noise drowning any other sound, including Filius' frantic swearing. With my wand in my right hand I abruptly stood and slashed it vertically.

I felt the rush, it was exhilarating. There was nothing that could match the feeling of absolute power, of my will shaping the world. Any other experience would pale in comparison.

My irritation left me, replaced by that all-encompassing feeling of control and blind fury; my heart-beat sped up; my muscles tensed; the wind around me whipped the few flames that dared lick too close. I was ready.

"Is this foolish? Is this useless?" I yelled over the roar of the wind. "Here's your respect, Flitwick. I'll show you foolish, you son of a bitch!"

The reddish glare of the fire seemed to dim, properly cowed. The tip of my wand burned a harsh white – I was the one that burned now. The uncertain shadows of the monstrous cavern vanished, leaving a blinding light in its wake. I thrust my open palm and wand forward. The roaring storm that circled me travelled the length of my body. It coiled around my forearms and burst like a cannon through the weak fire, aiming at the exit opposite me.

The sea of flames parted, split in half. As the thick, black smoke was blown away I saw the door being blasted off its hinges. The Gubraithian fire grew taller as the wind forced it to the sides. Directly in front and below me I could see the bottom of the trench. Flames spat daringly forward but when in the way of my storm they were roughly pushed back.

I put everything I had into the spell – every ounce of my will and power, of my anger and frustration. The fire had no chance.

In seconds my magic overpowered the enchantment and it began to shrink into itself. The twin towers of flame that flanked my unforgiving wall of wind stopped rising and collapsed. The Gubraithian fire made a last attempt to regain control but I squashed it ruthlessly. With a last upwards slash of my wand the fire rushed to meet the ceiling, exploded in a shower of flames and vanished, leaving the room in darkness and silence.

I let my shoulders slump as exhaustion caught up with me. I was breathing in and out in short gasps. That had been a tremendous expenditure of power. I turned and found Filius slumped on the ground, supporting himself with his hands on the rock, his eyes wide and a little fearful. I sheathed my wand and helped him up. He didn't look to be all there yet.

"You okay?" I asked, not unkindly, but certainly not pleasantly either. "Come on, Filius, snap out of it."

Filius shook his head to clear it. I left him leaning against the wall and turned to inspect the empty trench with my hands clasped behind my back. My feelings of frustration and anger vanished quicker than they had come, and in their wake I felt strangely empty, as if I'd been gifted with something that had been roughly taken away.

I cast a small globe of light and willed it to hover in the middle of the large room before me. Its light pierced the darkness that had settled in – the darkness I had brought about. I knew I was still a little high on adrenaline, but I couldn't help feeling proud of my work. Yet the feeling of emptiness lingered, similar to the one I associated with suddenly leaving the company of the Dementors' icy grip.

"Harry?" Filius whispered behind me. I turned to look at him. "I – I'm – I didn't…" He swallowed nervously. There were tears in his eyes and his expression was that of a sad, resigned man, which puzzled me. I got the impression that he was hiding something from me. "I'm sorry. I couldn't possibly have imagined you to – well – you to do…that."

I nodded slowly and sat on a flat rock opposite Filius. My unfocused eyes found the illustration of the Devil carved on a wall. This one was different though. It looked to have been carved deeper into the rock than the rest and was surrounded by a flickering outline that formed a circle of fire around it.

"That's alright, Filius," I said awkwardly. "And I'm sorry too."

He managed to quirk a small smile and a nod, but his gaze still tended to drift towards where the fire had been with a look of longing on his face. I frowned. There was more going on here than I'd noticed.

"What happened, Fil?" I asked softly. "What did you see?"

I thought I caught a glimpse of guilt on his face, but it was gone before I could be sure.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Harry."

"Well, what you said, your tone…and what I said, too, I suppose," I answered, deliberately not looking at him. My eyes found the dark outline of the doorway across where the fire had been. I couldn't see the door, which I knew was lying on the floor somewhere. "It was completely out of character for you to say those things. So what happened?"

"And it wasn't out of character for you, too?" he said with a weak chuckle.

I smiled sadly. We both knew that wasn't the case, though I had never acted that way with him before.

His hesitant smiled vanished and he sighed wearily, and I thought he looked tired, old, as if there was a weight on his shoulders that he couldn't wait to get rid of. I never would've told him, never said it aloud, but I was deeply ashamed of the way I'd acted and quite glad Filius didn't seem to be holding it against me.

"I believe that was an enchantment more cleverly designed than we gave it credit for," Filius answered. I was pleased to note his tone and body language were slowly reverting to his usual self. "At first sight it looked like the Gubraithian fire was a formidable enough protection that it could stand by itself. But it wasn't."

"Take a close look at this illustration." He gestured at the Devil, which had been carved right above where he was leaning against the wall on the floor. "Ominous symbolism aside, this is a conduit powered by the fire, used to spread an enchantment that tampered with our feelings. I am sure you missed it, busy as you were drowning those flames, but when you effectively dispelled the Gubraithian fire this…art work flashed red. The same happened with every other painting within the tunnels."

He gave me a tired smile.

"Had you not acted the way you did, we would have undoubtedly killed each other, given enough time."

We spent a moment in silence. It was gratifying to know that me acting like a royal dick had at least yielded some positive results. I trusted Filius, and I trusted his judgement. If he said there was enchantment that made us act that way, then I believed there was. But even if the alien feelings of anger and frustration had vanished, the excitement that had possessed us less than an hour ago did not return.

"Well, no point in agonizing over it," Filius finally said. He slowly stood up and patted me on the elbow. "Best not to think of it too much, Harry" he said, kindly now, as I was used to him. "Compose your thoughts while I look into how to reach that platform."

I watched him stand on the edge of the tunnel, carefully lean forward and look down. My ball of light still hovered ahead and bathed the room in white. He whistled appreciatively. It had been a hell of a lot of fire to extinguish.

"We could lower ourselves to the ground," Filius suggested. "Rock looks a bit hot, if that smoke is anything to go by, but we could use a few freezing charms and walk right to the other side. What do you think?" He turned around. "Harry?"

"Wha – Oh, yeah. Sure."

It didn't take long for us to reach the other side. Filius had a knack for self-levitating spells and I watched a little jealously as he showed me just how he'd earned his Mastery in Charms.

My spell wasn't as graceful or accurate, but it was definitely faster. I shot up like a bullet and managed to more or less go in the general direction of the platform. Filius had to catch me in mid-flight and I allowed him to levitate me and deposit me on the ground. It was all rather embarrassing.

"Interesting charm," he commented. "Self-propulsion is a remarkably difficult piece of magic. Keep practicing that, Harry. One day you will make it as reliable as a levitation spell." He grinned at me. "Who knows, maybe you'll stop flying around like a maniac on those brooms of yours."

We walked over the door I'd blasted off its hinges. The sight of Filius and the door together brought that feeling of guilt again. But I squashed it immediately and repaired the door with an impatient wave of my wand.

Since the room didn't look special in any way we headed towards the only other door that led somewhere other than the fire pit. Filius checked the doorknob for traps. The tip of his wand glowed a deep blue. He nodded confidently. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

The next room was definitely what we had been looking for – in one way, at least – but not at all what we'd expected.

I noticed something odd and wrong as soon as I stepped inside. It didn't take a particularly keen observer to do so. And it didn't take Filius', "Holy Mother of God," to spot it either.

Gravity didn't work.

It was a circular room, littered with objects drifting lazily from side to side. Anything that wasn't fixed to the floor or walls floated. Items bumped on the walls and changed their course, never losing their momentum. I stared, mesmerized, as a large mahogany desk in pristine condition soared right past me, bounced off the left wall, the ceiling and the ground, colliding with lit gas lamps, parchment, books and golden coins in its path, only to start anew.

"Well, this is…different," I commented. "What's going on here?" Filius didn't answer. I looked at him and noticed he was lost to the sight that met us. "You alright? What is this thing?"

"Time," Filius whispered distractedly, almost reverently, his tiny jaw slack and his mouth hanging slightly open.

And why did that sound vaguely ominous?

We moved slowly forward, trying to avoid the flying objects as much as we could. No easy task, really. I had to push aside the same large, yellowish bone twice.

We made it to the centre of the circular room and stopped. There were no doors leading away from the place. The way we came in was the only exit. I looked at the wooden door we'd come through. I was pretty sure we'd left it open, yet it was firmly shut. I noticed on this side it looked new, as if it had been freshly cut from a tree only a day ago. And my cloak, glasses and other items I had with me stayed firmly in place, unperturbed by the room's magic.

"Don't get me wrong," I said, "because I am grateful my underwear stays where it should be, but why exactly isn't our stuff affected by – well, by whatever this is?"

"I haven't the foggiest," Filius answered, his eyes still focused on the drifting objects. I looked at him, surprised at the choice of words and the lack of interest.

"Filius, buddy, pay attention. You all there? The clock and tome are supposed to be here somewhere. Do you think they're floating around with the rest of this garbage?"

His attention snapped back firmly into place and he slowly nodded. "Yes. Yes, I believe they should," he said. "This is, most likely, the very end of the complex. 'The Lord's lore shall be safe at thine home'. And this looks remarkably like the personal quarters of a wizard of the past days." Filius' gaze settled on a chair that was slowly rotating on its spot. "Well, you know what I mean…"

I cracked a grin.

"Then let's find it," I said.

I chose one side to start with and Filius took the other. Every now and then I would see him staring vacantly at some object that glided past his face. I supposed the magic in place had to be fascinating for a scholar such as himself. Even I could appreciate the power and skill Dimassio must've possessed to create something like this. And if he did, then the odds of finding a time-travelling clock that actually worked had just increased tenfold.

I pushed past a mattress stuffed with feathers and looked around. The tome and clock remained as elusive as always. Any way I turned only inane objects caught my attention. The light of the still-working gas lamps reflected oddly off a few coins that moved slowly in a line, like a thin stream of floating gold that I had to slap away like bothersome flies.

My eyes settled on a small number of books that were being pushed against the wall by a cauldron, of all things. I walked closer and tossed aside the pleasant reminder of Severus Snape's death. I bent to inspect the books but heard a loud and distorted clanging noise.

I turned just in time to see the cauldron hit the ceiling and smash into pieces. Filius looked at me disapprovingly from the other side of the room. I shrugged. Who would've thought a cauldron made of pewter could be smashed apart?

But before our disbelieving eyes, the pieces blurred and seemed to melt. The liquid mass of molten pewter then reformed into the broken pieces and joined together. The cauldron looked as if I'd never smashed it and lazily resumed its fly around the room.

"I'll be damned!" Filius cried.

I looked warily at the other objects floating in the circular room. This place was starting to freak me out. Fascinating it may be, but I was beginning to think there was something deeply wrong here, more than just the lack of gravity. I sensed something distorted within the magic, something dead yet living, something so deeply unnatural it shouldn't exist.

Amidst the many useless books I couldn't hope to read I found one that stood out. Not by its elegance or cover, but by the lack of them in comparison to the rest. This had to be it – it had to be The tome. It consisted of a few pages of yellowed parchment sewn together with a thin thread of Acromantula silk dyed black.

"I think I got the tome, Filius," I called behind my back. Could this be it? It had to be. Maybe this would say where to find the clock. "Come 'ere and let's have a look."

"Good work," Filius said.

He started walking towards me. I snatched the book from thin air.

And I felt the air shift, the magic snap.

Every single object in the room fell, no longer able to defy gravity. I heard Filius yell and throw himself to the ground. I saw lamps, furniture, books and other pieces of the room's decoration smash to the ground, like puppets whose strings had been abruptly cut.

I managed to flick my wand and shield myself from the assortment of debris raining down on me. A whole wooden bookshelf would've crushed me had I been a little too slow. Filius hadn't been so quick but I didn't see any particularly heavy objects fall on his hard, little head.

I sat up a little shakily and stared at the chaos that was the room. There was everything everywhere. I shook my head. I was starting to dislike the place rather heartily. At least the unnatural magic had dissipated, though I had the feeling it'd be back as soon as we touched the clock.

"Filius, you okay?"

I tossed away the huge bookshelf and stood up. I could see the half-goblin's feet poking from under a silk-covered skin that had once served as a coverlet. He pushed the bedding off of him and looked up at me. There was oil on his hair and a few feathers had stuck in it. He didn't look too happy.

"One day," Filius said as he stood up and brushed himself off, "your overly-developed Seeker tendencies will lose you a couple of fingers. If there is one lesson you wish to learn from me and take to the past, Harry, is that you always, always check for traps in articles of dubious origins."

I tried not to snicker. But what he said was something to think about. You'd think that after hunting Horcruxes for the better part of three years I would've developed some sense of caution. I hadn't, not too much. Hunting Voldemort's merry little pieces of soul had taught me many valuable lessons, but it would take me a few more nasty accidents to get to the point I find myself in right now.

"Duly noted," I said. "Now about the book…"

I found it lain at my feet. We settled down to inspect it more carefully. Surprisingly, it wasn't written in Old French. But not surprisingly, I couldn't read Old Hungarian script either. The writing looked elegant, with its series of sticks, circles and curves drawn accurately on the yellowed parchment, and not a single splotch of ink was out of place.

But it was no more understandable than the previous map.

"I can't make heads or tails of this thing, Filius," I said and slumped against the wall. "Let's forget about the instructions and summon the clock once and for all."

"Go ahead," he said unconcernedly. He turned a page of the old tome and adjusted his reading glasses. "But do remember what I said about your grabbing unpredictable objects."

I tried to summon the clock but I didn't know its proper name or what it looked like, which made it difficult. Maybe it was charmed and couldn't be summoned. Anyhow, I had no luck. I resigned myself to wait while Filius solved things his way.

Boredom overtook me quickly. I tapped my foot on the ground impatiently. Filius looked up, sighed and dove right back in to his precious book. I wasn't a man of idleness and patience. I tried to find something to entertain myself with but old Dimassio's room didn't help. I was usually good at reading people. I could tell this man hadn't been the type to waste time. The floating aside, everything looked normal, practical or valuable in an old-and-collectable sort of way.

I told Filius I'd try another search. He said, "Knock yourself out," and kept on reading without missing a beat. One had to wonder where the little bastard had learned Old Hungarian script.

I turned and drew my wand, ready to find that clock. If it was magical at all then I was sure I'd feel it or detect it, so I began by using revealing spells on the random pieces of useless objects littered around the room. The search showed no results, however. But I was undeterred. I knew there were spells used to mask magical signatures. Even the most powerful of enchantments could be concealed if the caster was strong enough.

Meanwhile Filius began reading certain passages aloud and occasionally commenting on things he found interesting. It didn't amount to much and the book never said where the clock was. We learned that Dimassio had been experimenting with sand. I snorted when I first heard it. Filius promptly corrected my notions and explained that there was a special kind of sand used in time-turners, and this clock probably used the same element, hence Dimassio's interest.

He also explained that Dimassio's journal – for that was what it was – contained his many experiments, where he would transfigure objects into something, would toy with different amounts of sand and would use the clock to rewind time as much as he wanted. Oddly enough, he never wrote down his experiences with time-travel itself.

I listened absent-mindedly as I worked. After my first failed attempt I tried levitating the assortment of crap. One by one they lifted off the ground as I inspected them and then left them hovering above my head.

After my last attempt failed I was pondering what to do next when I heard Filius mutter, "I wonder… Yes, it could be. But no, too farfetched…," and then he went back to reading but stopped his flow of comments.

I opened drawers, ripped apart the mattress stuffed with feathers, examined chests, sliced open linen sheets and even checked the walls, looking for a crevice on the rock that might suggest there were hidden rooms or hiding places. I found nothing.

"Harry," Filius called when I placed the objects on the ground again. His voice sounded calm and detached, as if he were preventing himself from getting his hopes up. "There are a few passages here you should see."

"Alright," I said. "Read it to me."

He cleared his throat, pushed his glasses up and began to read.

"Entry # 97, 1393. My experiments have failed today. It seems most magic is unresponsive within the Clock. I have yet to find an alternative way of crafting such an exquisite and intrinsically magical sand. My best efforts have come quite close, yet the difference is vast, for a slight miscalculation while within the Clock could be catastrophic."

"Interesting," I said. "What? Did I miss something?"

"Pay attention," Filius said.

"Entry # 123, 1393. Today I celebrate my success, for I have found the Clock to be unique and thus far workable. The key is in the sand. I could not, by any means, duplicate it, but I shan't need to, for the room itself provides. Tomorrow I shall make the first of my many transitions. My young son shall be in charge of my people and the Clock, where he will wait until my return from the mysteries of the past."

"His kid would wait inside... No, you – you can't possibly mean..." I looked around the room, trying to spot something, anything, that would confirm what Dimassio implied. "Is this it? Is this really it?"

"Yes, yes, I believe it is, Harry!" Filius said excitedly. "All the pieces fit. The room is circular, perfectly circular. You broke an object and it repaired itself, almost as if it'd never happened. These objects should be, not only on the ground, but decaying at the very least, if not completely rotten altogether. And yet this wood is solid and polished. Doesn't look a day older than two weeks to me!"

"Makes sense," I said, mostly to myself. "Who would put so much effort into making a circular room? Yes, it makes sense. This is why Dimassio retired here – not because of the Hundred Years' War, not because he was comfortable in his tunnels." I looked around in wonder at the ceiling and walls. "It's right here," I continued, slower this time, to make sure I followed my own train of thought, "Dimassio settled here because he wanted to study the clock. We are inside the clock – the whole room is the clock!"

My nature tended towards skepticism, but I couldn't help some hope from welling inside.

"I can't friggin' believe this one," I said, more to myself than Filius. He nodded anyway, frantically paging Dimassio's journal. "And there's no sand because we haven't transfigured anything yet." He nodded again and looked up, an expectant look on his face.

I understood. I pointed my wand at a gas lamp and gave it a flick. Nothing happened. I frowned. It had been a long time since I'd last failed a transfiguration.

Filius drew his own wand and tried. He failed too. "What the…"

"Maybe the magic is supposed to be active?" I suggested. "Like when we first came in and all this shit was floating about?" I remembered the unnatural feeling of the magic and how it had dissipated as soon as I touched the journal.

"Yes, yes, you're right," Filius said. "But how do we activate it?"

On a whim I walked over to him and grabbed the journal. I felt it at once. Something pulled at my energy and directed it at the parchment. I tried to fight it but it was over too quickly. The objects barely rose above the ground. The unnatural magic came back, pulsing unnaturally through the room. And I, still a bit dazed from being magically raped by an old journal, kicked the nearest drawer and it smashed against a wall, splintered and automatically repaired itself.

Filius grinned.

"Bastard charmed the parchment and tied it to the room," I said, a little surprised at how quickly I'd figured it out. "Felt like a...like a switch. I bet he was tired of ink flying all over the place when he tried to write his findings."

"Good work, good work!" Filius said enthusiastically, unconsciously reverting to his teaching habits.

"And next," I said and pointed my wand at the lamp. It morphed into a black cat. "Yes!"

Filius echoed my sentiments. But soon I noticed there wasn't any sand. The cat looked scared out of its wits, too. The hair on its back stood on end and he began thrashing and yowling as if it were in pain. For a moment I just stared at the cat in confusion as the clock's magic levitated the spitting beast, the annoying screeching ringing in my ears.

"Merlin," Filius cried. He quickly whipped out his wand and vanished the poor cat.

"Thank God," I said. "What the hell was wrong with it? Jesus fucking Christ." I plucked my pinkie into my ear and wiggled it. "Anyway, that obviously didn't work. What's our next option?" But Filius didn't answer. I turned to look at him. He was staring at something behind me. "Filius?"

I followed his gaze and found a small amount of sand piled neatly where my companion had vanished the cat.

Then pieces started to fall into place; clothes and other items we brought inside the room were unaffected by its magic because they weren't part of the enchantment; some objects in the room, not the gold and books, were originally sand, from which Dimassio had transfigured his material goods; I was willing to bet that the mass of the cat I'd transfigured was similar or exactly the same as the mass of the total amount of sand I was staring at, which meant we could choose how further back we'd travel by deciding how many objects to vanish; the gas lamps, the furniture, the wood and the bedding were in perfect condition because they were encased in time, for the room kept its sand and air unperturbed, which could also explain the written documents found by historians that reported Dimassio had lived well past one hundred fifty years old.

"This is it," I whispered, a little dazed by our sudden success. "We found it, we did it. Here it is. We can do it; I can finally go back and make this work."

Filius stood up and slowly approached the pile of sand. Gently, almost lovingly, he waved his wand over it, and smiled when the tip of his wand turned a dark purple.

"It's the sand, Harry! The time-turners' sand!" he said. "I bet this is where it all came from. No one ever knew…couldn't duplicate it… Dimassio must've been careless and left some outside the room."

I didn't particularly care for Dimassio and his little fetish with sand right now.

"Come on, Filius, let's do this."

I'd thought he would say we had time to spare, or that we could do it slowly and well, without rushing things to avoid any mistakes. But the little man was a bundle of energy. He waved his wand in an arc above his head and the floating objects quickly drifted towards one side of the circular room.

He was forced to keep them just above the floor. Apparently the hovering pieces refused to touch the ground. It looked like they did, but they bounced off less than an inch away before actually making contact with the rock.

I flicked my wand and transfigured the sand the cat had left behind into a stack of brown feathers. A quick test ensured the door was properly closed. The magic pulsed stronger through the room, as if it were sentient and could tell what was about to happen.

"So how does this work?" I asked once everything was in place.

"We need to measure the amount of sand we need," he said. "Regular time-turners usually carry forty grams of it. Each hour you intend to travel back uses one gram. That amount, in turn, is filtered through the time-piece and powered by your magical core when you come into contact with the chain or time-turner."

Filius quickly pulled out a piece of parchment and transfigured himself a chair and a desk to write on. He scribbled furiously as I paced around the room, impatient to get to work.

"Let's see," he said, still writing and not looking up. "The target is 1980, the year before your parents were murdered. The precise date isn't important, only the year. So that's 252, give or take a month or two…a little over 7500 days, more or less…and, yes, we need about 400 pounds to make it work."

"You're fast," I said, impressed. "You transfigure us a scale and I'll vanish."

He nodded and we set to work.

We soon noticed, however, that not every object turned to sand when vanished. In fact, only a few of them did. It seemed Dimassio had brought in some furniture, books and other items from outside to make himself more comfortable, and those wouldn't produce the sand we needed. We managed to find little over 900 pounds of it. Filius said the furthest back we could travel if we used everything would be around fifty years.

In short order we had the four hundred pounds of sand ready and piled at the middle of the room. I had my Mokeskin pouch fully stocked with everything I thought I'd need. I double-checked its contents while Filius paced around the room, his long fingers rubbing his tiny chin.

"To activate the clock Dimassio would simply close the door and burn the sand," he said and kept walking. "Do you know how to cast Gubraithian fire?" I nodded. "Good. I guess that is all, Harry."

I frowned. I didn't like that air of finality he had about him.

"What are you on about?" I asked.

He looked sad, resigned. It reminded me of how he'd acted after I'd drowned the sea of fire in the ante-chamber to the clock.

"I can't go, Harry," he said. I saw how much it cost him to say it. The half-goblin had been dreaming about this moment for months. "We don't know what will happen if two of us make the leap. Dimassio always worked alone and I don't think we should risk something going wrong."

"But... No, Filius, forget it. You're coming with me," I said resolutely. "I am not going through that shit again without someone who knows what happened." Filius shook his head and started to collect his things. I was getting nervous. "Oh, come on, Fil! What could possibly go wrong?"

"Many things, Harry. Time is not something you play with."

"But why me then? Why can't you go back?" I said. "All you have to do is warn Dumbledore and my parents. As long as Neville and I aren't marked by the prophecy anyone can kill Voldemort! Just go and live your life."

He smiled sadly. "I enjoyed getting to know you, Harry. Prophecy or not, there is something special about you, and I'm not one to leave the fate of our world in the hands of chance." He walked up to me and patted me on the elbow. I looked at him pleadingly. "Go make us proud, kid. If anyone can do it it's you. And go find me when you go back. I'm sure my other self will be pleased to meet you."

And he walked away. Suddenly our journey became my journey. I was to do everything again, from the start, with no one to understand how fragile our resistance had been and what I'd had to do since Voldemort's second uprising began. No one would know how Hermione took a killing curse meant for Minerva; how Neville, terrified out of his wits, mounted a piece of shit of a broom to divert a dragon's attention away from Hogwarts; how the few Professors the school had left mounted a defence for the students to escape; how Dennis fucking Creevey stood up to fucking Voldemort himself to save my life and got torn to pieces for his trouble...

Filius stopped at the door and gave me one last look. I saw the resolve on his face and I knew he couldn't be convinced. What would happen to him? What would happen to this timeline? Would he spend the rest of his life wondering how I did, spending his nights alone in some cave in the middle of nowhere, huddled under the warmth of a few blankets as the Empire widened its horizons and life as he knew it died?

There was no way that would happen. I would have never forgiven myself.

"Filius, stop," I said, not the least bit surprised by how calm and authoritative I sounded.

My mind was made up. He turned away from the open door and as I walked towards him I pulled out my wand. I saw his eyes widen.

"You're not going anywhere, Fil. This is your chance. This was always your chance."

"Harry, please don't force my hand," he said, and he pulled out his wand too, but kept it pointed at the side. "Let us part on friendly terms. I do not wish to harm you."

It was my turn to look at him sadly. I would've been fucking proud to call the little bastard a friend.

"Drop your wand, Filius," I said. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. But make no mistake, you will have your second chance."

The moment he sighed and shook his head I knew I'd have to fight for this. He wouldn't just give in and do as I said. He started saying, "Be reasonable, Harry, please. You will finally meet your –" but I snapped off three quick, silent stunners. The half-goblin was fast and an expert and a shield flickered to existence. My spells bounced off but he was still hesitant to counter-attack while I had no qualms about knocking him unconscious if I had to.

I pointed my wand straight and started walking towards him. The Clock lit up with different colours as my spells whistled through the air and hammered on his barrier. My wand was a blur; objects were dragged from an unseen force away from me; Filius realized I was cornering him and I caught a glimpse of his next move in his eyes.

He slashed his wand up and my incoming spells crashed harmlessly on the ceiling. Through the dust and debris that fell I saw Filius point his wand at the ground. There came the pop I'd been expecting and he jumped high into the air, higher than he could've hoped to jump without magic. But I already knew he would do that. He had underestimated me again. The moment he was shooting past above my head I violently lashed out.

His stunner flew off the mark and his back was slammed against the ceiling. The force was enough to incapacitate him and I gently lowered his body to the ground, where he lay unmoving, the look of panic I'd seen on his face replaced by the peaceful features of an unconscious man.

"I'm sorry, buddy," I whispered to the empty room. "I really am. But you deserve this chance as much as I do. We can do it together. It'll be me and you, me and you."

I began waving my wand in an intricate pattern and the walls and ceiling began to pulse with energy, recognizing what was coming. The tip of my wand glowed a fiery red as I pointed it down. A torrent of gold and red fire surged forward and enveloped the time-turner's sand.

The walls and the ground shook, the objects lifted off the ground and spun dazzlingly fast, close to the ceiling, which started to crack ominously. I crouched down next to Filius and looked up, alarmed, thinking I'd cast the Gubraithian fire wrong. I felt something tugging at my magic. I had somewhat depleted my core but I still had some juice left, and my power swirled aggressively against the intrusion.

But the clock didn't relent. It was too strong for me to hold off. I felt something being ripped away from me. I felt Filius' body shaking next to me and I guessed he was experiencing the same odd feeling I was. The walls began to spin. The sand spit and crackled angrily on the ground as the ever-lasting fire burned around it. I knew I'd pass out any second now.

The four hundred pounds of magical sand exploded in a shower of glittering crystals. I was thrown violently to the ground, where I remained stuck next to Filius, my limbs suddenly unresponsive. I tasted blood in my mouth. And as the grains of sand slowly fell over me and the light began to dim I started to laugh, a hoarse and hysterical laugh of triumph, of knowing I'd succeeded and together we were leaving the nightmare behind.