Harry was lost in thought, recalling the mysterious markings on Suzuha's weapon and the time machine. FG-3000, FG-205... What did it all mean? And why did the time machine look like a module from a space station? He couldn't understand how it all connected.
As he pondered, Harry didn't even notice how the concepts of "when" and "where" ceased to exist for him. Time seemed to have lost its power, becoming an endless ocean in which he swam from era to era. But now... Now time had returned, ceasing to be an all-consuming void.
Harry's eyes snapped open, and he looked around. He was sitting at a table in the middle of a familiar green field - in Nora The faces around him were so familiar and dear - Grouchy Eye, Sirius, Hermione, Ron, and the Weasley family. But with them... Tesla, Mordred, Jeanne, and... Elen?
"Could you pass the salt, Elen?" Mrs. Weasley asked kindly.
To Harry's surprise, the girl effortlessly fulfilled the request, chatting cheerfully with the twins Fred and George. Her behavior seemed strange to Harry - could this gentle soul be hiding a ruthless and cold-blooded traitor?
Harry looked at Elen in confusion, not understanding what was happening. Her carefree behavior starkly contrasted with the dark memories Harry had of her evil doppelganger. Was this really the same girl?
"Harry, what's wrong?" Tesla exclaimed, noticing the tears on Harry's cheeks.
Harry gazed blankly at the plate of appetizing soup, but the thought of eating made him queasy. After all the horrors he had endured in the future, even Mrs. Weasley's delicious homemade cooking seemed tasteless.
"Why are you crying, Harry?" Hermione asked with concern, offering him a handkerchief.
Harry silently rose from his seat. How could he rejoice when he had just seen the deaths of all his friends? In that terrible future, they had all perished at Voldemort's hands... And now they were alive again, with Elen among them, who was actually a cunning traitor. Or was she? Harry didn't dare reveal the truth in front of everyone - he feared she would cleverly twist the truth and entangle them all in her web. He was even more afraid of getting entangled himself, not knowing the whole truth.
Harry silently got up from the table and hurried upstairs to Ron's bedroom. He needed to urgently warn Okabe and Kurisu about the impending danger before it was too late. With a trembling hand, he grasped a piece of parchment and quickly wrote:
Kurisu, Okabe Alert In a few days, we'll all be caught by the Devourers and killed!
Finishing, Harry bitterly smiled. Despite the gravity of the situation, his emotional state didn't allow him to formulate his thoughts clearly and coherently. But Okabe would understand the hint and surely come to their aid.
"What's going on, Harry?" Ron's voice came from the doorway.
Harry was silent for a few seconds, thoughtfully examining the piece of parchment with his written message.
"You won't believe me..." he finally said.
"I'll believe you, just tell me," Ron assured him.
Harry took a heavy sigh and leaned back. Ron approached him and took the parchment from his hand. After reading the note, he handed it to Mordred, who was following him. The girl quickly scanned the text and immediately frowned.
"Who? Who is this rat?" she asked.
"I don't know..." Harry muttered.
"How did you find out?" Ron asked.
Harry nervously laughed.
"I... traveled through time," he confessed.
"You didn't suddenly become two people, did you?" Ron countered.
"Okabe... He took me to his time machine and put some headphones on me," Harry explained. "It seems he sent only my personality and memories back in time, not my body."
"Whoa!" Ron exclaimed.
Jeanne, Elen, and Tesla suddenly appeared in the doorway.
"Tell us everything you know!" Jeanne demanded in a stern voice.
Harry looked down.
"I saw you, Elen. You were at the Malfoy Manor with Voldemort, and you said you didn't want to be with losers."
Elen's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and then her face darkened.
"Did I say that?" she asked.
"You were different there. And Voldemort said you'd been replaced... Do you know anything about it?" Harry asked tensely.
The room erupted into a heated discussion. Everyone passionately discussed what they had heard, except for Elen and the silent Tesla. Elen was deep in thought. Finally, she responded gloomily:
"I know."
Mordred immediately flared up with anger:
"Then let's kill that rat right here and now!" she exclaimed, drawing her sword and pressing it to Elen's throat. But Elen didn't flinch.
"Calm down, Princess," Elen said softly, carefully lowering the tip of the sword to her heart. "If Voldemort said I'd been replaced, then that's what happened."
"What does that mean?" Harry asked, puzzled.
"A doppelganger," Tesla clarified. "It seems Elen has a very similar double."
"Or a twin sister," Hermione suggested. "But if Elen is a Servant, then it could only be..."
"An alternate version," Jeanne interrupted.
Harry lowered his gaze and asked quietly:
"Tell me, Elen. Are you a Servant?"
Elen also looked down, and a heavy pause hung in the air, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the fireplace.
"I shouldn't be the one to tell you, but since your lives depend on it... Yes, I'm a Servant," Elen admitted. "If I understand correctly, my Master is in danger, and I must protect him."
"But... who is your Master? Maybe we can help?" Harry asked.
"And what if you can't handle it, Elen? And what's your real name?" Ron added.
Elen cast her gaze downward, thoughtfully examining the Command Spell marks on Hermione's and Ron's hands, before her eyes settled on Harry's palm. A resolute determination flickered in her eyes, as if she was ready to make a contract with him right then and there.
"I can make a contract with Harry or Tesla," she said. "You'll learn my name in time."
"With a Servant?" Ron and Hermione exclaimed in unison. "Is that even possible?"
Elen looked at them with a calm, unyielding gaze. Her eyes clouded for a moment, as if she was pondering something serious. Then, she resolutely extended her hand, as if offering a contract. Suddenly, she turned on her heel and strode towards the door.
"A Servant of the Caster class can sometimes make a better Master than a wizard," Fujimaru observed. "But Caster also needs a Master. Elen, where are you going?"
Elen's lips tightened, betraying her inner tension. She gave Fujimaru a scrutinizing look, as if deciding whether to trust him.
"I need to save my Master," she finally said in a cold, detached tone. "He's in danger. I can't delay any longer."
Turning to Fujimaru, Elen suddenly grasped his hand, her eyes burning with determination.
"If you're willing, Fujimaru, I propose you become my new Master," she said, her voice tense but confident. "Time is short, we must act immediately."
She took a step towards the door, but...
"I won't let you!" Mordred blocked her path. "You're staying here!"
Elen froze, her gaze fixed intently on Mordred, who was blocking her way. The air was charged with tension, as two powerful forces seemed ready to clash. Fujimaru shifted his gaze from one to the other, sensing the aura of danger emanating from them.
"I can't stay here," Elen said in a icy tone, taking a step forward. "My duty is to protect my Master."
Mordred sneered, placing her hand on the hilt of her sword.
"Your Master is a coward. He abandoned you here and fled. Why do you need him?"
Elen's eyes narrowed, her voice trembling with anger:
"Don't dare say that about him!"
She took a swift step towards Mordred, but the latter swiftly drew her sword, pressing it to Elen's throat.
"One more step, and your head will roll on the floor," Mordred growled. "I swear it!"
At that moment, Fujimaru resolutely stepped between them, spreading his arms.
"Stop We can't afford to fight now!" he exclaimed, surveying them with a decisive gaze. "Elen, I understand your desire to save your Master. But think – can you really help him alone? You need allies!"
He turned to Mordred, looking her straight in the eye.
"Mordred, put down your sword. Elen is not our enemy. We don't know if she'll betray us. Together, we'll do better than alone!"
Mordred snorted, but slowly lowered her sword from Elen's throat. Elen cast Fujimaru a strange, almost grateful glance.
"Well, Fujimaru, you make sense," Mordred reluctantly admitted. "You've convinced me. Let her stay. But if she pulls something – I'll kill her without hesitation!"
Elen remained silent, only nodding curtly. Fujimaru breathed a sigh of relief. The crisis was averted for now.
"Let's hear what's really going on first," Tesla intervened. "No one except Harry knows what's happening."
Elen hesitated for a moment, then nodded in agreement.
"Tell us, Harry," Fujimaru urged, and the young man began his tale.
Harry took a deep breath and started telling his friends about the terrible future he had returned from. His voice sounded gloomy and broken as he described how almost all of them had died in catastrophic events that had ruined the world. As he recounted this horrific story, Harry's eyes dropped, clearly struggling to relive what he had seen.
After listening to him, the friends exchanged worried and frightened glances. Mordred was the first to break the tense silence:
"What's this supposed to mean?! I don't even know why I should die!"
Hermione frowned, concern etched on her face.
"This means the situation is critical. We need to contact the Yggdmillennia clan and Fiore Forvedge as soon as possible. They might be able to help."
Sirius nodded, his face grave.
"Yes, we can't afford to delay. The clock is ticking, and it's possible we're running out of minutes. We must act decisively."
The dusty sunlight streamed in through the windows of the boys' dormitory, where the group of friends sat huddled around the bed instead of a table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together, with handwritten parchment scattered before them. Across from them were Jeanne Alter in armor, Mordred with her sword at her side, elegant Elen in rich garments, and none other than Nikola Tesla himself, dressed in a strict Victorian-era suit.
"Are they members of some important pure-blood witch or wizard family?" Jeanne Alter whispered, nodding towards the letter.
Sirius, who was standing nearby by the fireplace, overheard her and grunted in agreement.
"The Yggdmillennia family? They could put the Malfoys in their place, let alone compare themselves to them. Those clans are like empires in the modern wizarding world."
"Really now!" Harry exclaimed. "So, we just needed to meet someone from their family to gain access to such a prestigious circle?"
"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Sirius countered, shaking his head. "The Yggdmillennia family prefers the private school of magic 'Clock Tower' instead of Hogwarts."
"Another magical school?" Harry asked, surprised.
"Yes, one of the most prestigious and secluded ones," Sirius nodded. "It's located in the heart of magical London, right next to the British Museum... ah, what's it called again?"
Hermione tensed up and interjected into the conversation.
"Ah, yes, I've read about the Clock Tower. They say it's ancient, but equipped with the latest technology..."
Their discussion continued, with the young people animatedly discussing the fortress-like magical school, as they prepared the important letter for Fiore Forvedge.
Ron's eyes widened in realization.
"Wait a minute... Clock Tower and Big Ben? What if they're actually located in the same place?"
"Impossible, Ron," Hermione asserted, furrowing her brow. "I've read a lot about it. The Clock Tower is a massive underground complex, a real fortress of magic, hidden deep underground."
"Where do you know all this from?" Ron asked, curiously twirling the deluminator in his hands.
Hermione gave him a condescending look.
"Because I read books, unlike some people."
Ron rolled his eyes and began to flick the deluminator's lid, causing the magical sparks to flicker on and off in the dim light of the candles.
"Come on, Hermione. Can books really explain all the secrets of the magical world?"
Their argument held a familiar, nostalgic tone from their school days at Hogwarts. When would they be able to safely return there? Elen, gracefully adjusting her locks, politely cleared her throat.
"I don't mean to interrupt your disagreement, friends. But if you'll allow me, I can share some information about the Clock Tower that I know for certain..."
Her precise, polished manner of speaking immediately caught everyone's attention. Even the usually boisterous Ron fell silent for a moment, forgetting about the deluminator.
"...In any case, we need to write the letters first, to get things moving," Sirius summarized, looking around at the group.
"I'll take care of the letter to Fiore Forvedge," Jeanne volunteered, firmly straightening her back. Her face, framed by blonde hair, seemed carved from stone. "I've had experience with such correspondence in my time."
"You?" Sirius raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Of course, he had heard tales of the remarkable warrior girl from France, but still...
Jeanne simply shrugged in her armor.
"I am Jeanne d'Arc, though my memory is not complete. But I vividly remember corresponding with influential nobles of that time."
Her authoritative tone and direct, unyielding gaze silenced everyone. Even the usually fidgety Hermione simply nodded, acknowledging Jeanne's expertise.
Mordred, who was sitting nearby, snorted and looked away, examining her blade. For her, these diplomatic formalities were just an unnecessary hindrance. In her heart, the young warrior eagerly anticipated the upcoming battles and the chance to finally prove herself in great battles.
The silence was disrupted by Nikola Tesla's creaky voice:
"Well, my battle comrade will handle the correspondence. And what shall we do in the meantime?" He glanced at Ron, Harry, and the other young wizards.
"According to history, you were an illiterate peasant," Hermione noted skeptically, pursing her lips. "How could you possibly write letters?"
Jeanne d'Arc stood tall, her eyes sparkling.
"Illiterate? Me?" she scoffed. "You must be joking, my friend. I come from a family of impoverished nobles. Do you really think a mere shepherdess could master fencing or horsemanship without training from a young age?"
"But in history textbooks..." Hermione began to argue, but Jeanne firmly shook her head.
"My life was almost five hundred years ago! It's a miracle that people remember anything at all about those events. Over the centuries, much has been distorted and lost."
Under the weight of Jeanne's persuasive arguments and fiery gaze, Hermione reluctantly yielded.
"Alright, let's assume that's true. But what exactly are you going to write in this letter?"
Jeanne smirked and rubbed her chin.
"Now, let me recall... In those days, we usually began with long, elaborate greetings and praises for the recipient. Something like, 'To the esteemed Lady Forvedge, heir to the noble and ancient house of Yggdmillennia, Mistress of numerous castles and lands...'"
Ron burst out laughing, clutching his stomach.
"Come on, Jeanne! They're from some ancient magical family themselves, what good are our compliments to them..."
"Hey!" came a resolute shout from Mordred's direction. The young knight leapt to her feet, leaning on the hilt of her sword. "Whatever you're planning, I'm involved too!"
Elen authoritatively placed a hand on Mordred's impulsive shoulder.
"I'll keep an eye on you in this matter. Your fiery temperament isn't exactly suited for drafting diplomatic letters."
Mordred bristled with indignation.
"Keep an eye on me? I was recognized by King Arthur himself, I am his legitimate heir!"
Elen merely smiled indulgently in response.
"That's exactly why you need a personal secretary for such formalities."
Her words carried the benevolent superiority of an older mentor. The other members of the group exchanged glances, hiding their smiles. It appeared that the spirited Mordred had once again fallen into the trap of Elen's graceful diplomacy.
Tesla watched the scene with curiosity, nodding approvingly. Ron whispered to Harry:
"It's always like this — ladies are always bossing each other around!"
Hermione glared at Ron belligerently, having overheard his words. Harry just laughed silently.
"Alright, fine!" Mordred finally exhaled, sheathing her sword. Her combative spirit had been cooled by Elen's calm demeanor. "But what about that vagabond with the little girl? Could it really be Jack the Ripper and her Master?"
"Jack the Ripper?" Harry asked in confusion. "No, of course not! Her Master was Bellatrix Lestrange."
Mordred's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Splendid! Then her head will be the first to roll!" she laughed, brandishing her sword once more.
"Easy there, warrior," Sirius intervened, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Bellatrix has already gotten what she deserved."
Mordred shook her head stubbornly.
"No mercy for scum like her! I will personally end her to quench my thirst for justice!"
"She served her time in Azkaban," Sirius said firmly. "In the most dreadful prison of the wizarding world. Do you think she'll be scared of you or a death at your hands?"
Jeanne silently observed the argument. She understood the burning desire for vengeance that flared within the young warrior Mordred. Similar feelings had once led her, Jeanne, to the battlefields.
Elen shook her head and softly spoke.
"Revenge is a trap, dear Mordred. It will burn your heart from within with a bright but dangerous flame. It's better to leave this woman to the justice she deserves."
Mordred gritted her teeth but, after a brief internal struggle, nodded and sheathed her sword. It was evident that Elen's words held sway over her.
.
In the spacious living room of the Fortress of the Thousand Years, which served as a refuge for the numerous families of the Yggdmillennia clan, silence reigned, broken only by the crackling of logs in the fireplace. Fiore Forvedge, wrapped in a blanket, sat in a wheelchair, gazing thoughtfully at the dancing flames. Her brother Caules and loyal comrade Gordes Musik were seated nearby.
Suddenly, a homunculus servant entered the room, bowing respectfully before the household.
"Lady Fiore, a letter for you," he said, extending a sealed envelope.
Fiore raised an eyebrow in surprise and took the letter. The envelope bore her name, along with the note "Personal. Urgent!"
"Who could this be from?" she murmured, opening the envelope. Caules and Gordes leaned in curiously.
Fiore unfolded the letter and began to read, her eyes quickly scanning the lines. As she read, her expression changed from surprise to disbelief, and then to concern.
"What is it, Sister?" Caules could not contain himself. "Who is the letter from?"
"It's from Harry Potter," Fiore said slowly, not lifting her eyes from the letter. "He writes... very strange things. He says he's returned from the future, where he saw my death at Voldemort's hands. And he asks for an urgent meeting to explain everything."
"Nonsense!" Gordes snorted. "It could be a trap."
Wait," Fiore gestured to stop them, thoughtfully tapping a finger on the armrest of her chair. "There's more... He mentions Jeanne d'Arc Alter, Mordred, and even King Arthur. And also... a time machine by someone named Okabe Rintarou."
She looked up, her gaze resolute as it passed over her brother and friend.
"If this is true... if Voldemort really returns and starts killing wizards and Servants... we need to be prepared. We must hear what Potter has to say."
"But it could be dangerous!" Caules protested. "What if he's working with Voldemort and wants to lure you into a trap?"
Fiore shook her head, a light smile playing on her lips.
"No, I don't think so. Harry Potter is not the kind to serve the Dark Lord. He hasn't forgotten who killed his parents. Besides, if I am to die... I'd rather it be in battle, not at the hands of an assassin."
She folded the letter and tucked it into her breast pocket.
"Send Potter a reply. I will receive him... and listen to all he has to say. And then we'll decide how to act next."
Caules and Gordes exchanged glances but dared not argue. After all, Fiore was recognized by even the clan head as a future elder, and her word could be considered law. All they could do was comply and hope that this meeting wouldn't bring more trouble. Because if Harry Potter was telling the truth... the impending storm promised to be truly terrifying.