Chapter 119. A future built on the past
Sirius, with fire in his eyes and a mane of unruly hair, paced around the room like a caged animal. Sirius, with a worried expression on his face, stopped next to Lupin.
"No, I'm not coming. You know, I think Peter would be a good choice for this mission," he began. "He's quiet and unnoticeable, exactly what you need. Nobody will suspect him."
Lupine frowned.
"Are you sure, Sirius? Peter seems so...timid."
"That's why he's perfect!" - Sirius exclaimed. "No one will suspect quiet Peter. He will be able to complete the task without unnecessary noise." Sirius turned to the cowering Peter. "You can handle it, my friend. We believe in you."
Peter, quietly watching them from his corner, nervously fiddled with the silver medallion in his hands, his eyes sparkling in the twilight, like those of a cornered rat. Lupine agreed hesitantly, realizing that Sirius might be right about Peter.
Albus Dumbledore, shrouded in a cloud of sweetish pipe smoke, watched young Sibyl Trelawney, who, stammering and blushing, tried to predict his fate from tea leaves.
"Hmm... I see... I see... I don't see anything," she muttered, hiding her gaze in embarrassment.
Dumbledore smiled slightly sadly and stood up to leave.
"Thank you for your time, Miss Trelawney," he said, heading towards the exit.
But at that moment the door swung open and Aberforth, Dumbledore's brother, burst into the room, his face grim and his voice harsh:
"Albus, what are you doing here? Get out of here, you're scaring the visitors!"
His gaze fell on a dark figure lurking at the bar counter.
"What are you forgetting here, brat? Get out of here, this place is not for people like you!"
The figure flinched and looked at Aberforth with a look of hatred. The unknown person did not argue and, putting on his hood, disappeared behind the door. Dumbledore turned around, but his gaze was fixed on Sibyl, who suddenly changed. Her eyes rolled back and her voice became low and prophetic.
"There comes one who is powerful enough to defeat the Dark Lord... born of those who have defied him three times... born at the end of the seventh month..."
Dumbledore froze, soaking up every word like a sponge absorbing water. A light of understanding and... anxiety lit up in his eyes.
"One of them must die at the hands of the other," Sibyl whispered into the silence, and her words hung in the air like an ominous omen.
Frank and Alice Longbottom, their faces beaming with happiness, played with their baby Neville, plump and rosy-cheeked, in the cozy living room of their home. Green meadows stretched outside the window, and a fire crackled in the fireplace, creating an atmosphere of warmth and comfort.
At the same time, in another house, on the other side of the country, James and Lily Potter, with the same love and tenderness, looked at their son Harry, who, with a mischievous sparkle in his green eyes, crawled along the carpet, chasing a bright ball.
Both babies, like little suns, illuminated the lives of their parents, filling them with meaning and joy. Both were surrounded by love and care, but the shadow of war hung over both families, threatening to destroy their fragile happiness.
Frank and Alice, members of the Order of the Phoenix, fought bravely against the Dark Lord, risking their lives for the future of their children. James and Lily, also members of the Order, defied Voldemort more than once in defense of their home and their family.
Both Neville and Harry, without yet realizing it, were already part of this war, were already connected by an invisible thread of fate, which in the future would pit them on the battlefield of good and evil.
Snape, pale and agitated, burst into Dumbledore's office, his black robes billowing behind him like a raven's wing.
"The prophecy... he thinks it's her..." he breathed, the words stuck in his throat like shards of broken glass.
Dumbledore, calm and insightful as an ancient oak, met him with a look full of understanding.
"Hide them, hide them all," Snape begged, his voice shaking with despair.
"And what do you offer in return, Severus?" - Dumbledore's words fell into silence, heavy as stones.
"Everything," Snape answered, and in this short word his whole life, all his love and pain were contained.
"Speaking of the future," Lily continued, after a brief silence, "Petunia sent a letter. Dudley is already running around with all his might."
James chuckled.
"I can imagine this little hippopotamus stomping around the house," he said, trying to hide the notes of hostility in his voice.
"James!" Lily exclaimed reproachfully. "He's only a month older than Harry."
"And ten times thicker," James added, winking at his son, who smiled and waved his toy broom when he heard his name.
"You were too rude to Vernon at their wedding," Lily said, changing the subject. "He still can't forgive you."
"And I can't forgive him for his attitude towards magic," James replied, his voice becoming serious. "He's a mahogany-hater, Lily. And I don't want my son to communicate with his son."
"Don't be so categorical," Lily sighed. "Dudley is still very young, he is not to blame for anything."
"I know," James softened. "But still, I don't like this family. And Snape..."
He paused, as if remembering something unpleasant.
"What about Snape?" Lily asked, alert.
"Nothing," James answered quickly. "I just remembered how he tried to apologize to me after Petunia's wedding. He said he was wrong."
"And what are you?" Lily looked questioningly at her husband.
"I didn't listen to him," James admitted, lowering his eyes. "I was too angry with him. But, you know, Lily, I think that when all this is over, we will make peace with him. I promise."
Lily smiled and snuggled up to her husband.
"I know, James," she whispered, feeling her heart fill with hope. "I know."
"You still think about him, right?" James asked, as if reading his wife's thoughts.
Lily sighed and looked away.
"He was my friend," she answered quietly. "He and I grew up together, James. It's not so easy to forget."
"I understand," James said, hugging her tighter. "But he made his choice, Lily. He became a Death Eater."
"I know," Lily repeated, her voice shaking. "But I can't believe that he really believes in all this... in the purity of blood, in the superiority of wizards over Muggles..."
"He's confused, Lily," James said. "He was always alone, misunderstood... Voldemort gave him a sense of belonging, a sense of power."
"I can't justify him," Lily whispered, clenching her fists. "But I... I still hope that he will come to his senses. That he will return."
"He hurt you so much," James reminded her. "He called you... that word."
Lily flinched as if struck.
"I know," she repeated. "But I... I still can't hate him. I can't just erase him from my life."
She raised her eyes to James, and in their green depths he saw a reflection of complex, contradictory feelings: pain, resentment, but also... love. Love for her childhood friend, for the person who was so dear to her, despite all his mistakes.
"I will always remember him as he was before," Lily whispered, and her voice was full of sadness and... hope.
"Even after all these years, Lily?"
"Always."
James nodded silently, understanding that some wounds never fully heal. And that some feelings, even the most painful ones, remain with us forever.
Deep in the forest, on the edge of Godric's Hollow, the air suddenly began to tremble, as if from an invisible wave. The leaves on the trees rustled, birds soared into the sky with alarming cries. From the void, as if from another dimension, the silhouette of a strange machine slowly began to materialize.
It was a time machine from the future. Its metal body, covered with scratches and traces of rust, showed evidence of many journeys through time and space. The solar panels, like the wings of a giant dragonfly, glinted in the rays of the setting sun. The cabin, with round portholes, resembled the eye of a cyclops, looking into the past.
The time machine smoothly descended to the ground, emitting a low rumble, similar to the roar of distant thunder. The soil beneath her vibrated, the grass bent as if under the weight of an invisible weight.
When the car finally landed, the hatch opened with a hiss, letting five travelers out.
Suzuha Amane, in her usual warrior costume, was the first to set foot on the ground, her gaze directed into the distance, as if she was looking for something in the dense thickets of the forest.
Jeanne d'Arc Alter, wearing a short black dress that hugged her slender figure and a blue coat with a fur collar, came out next. Her silver hair fluttered in the wind, and her amber eyes seemed to pierce the very essence of things. There was an expression of cold determination on her face, as if she was preparing for battle.
Okabe Rintaro, in a white robe and with a crazy sparkle in his eyes, nervously looked around, as if expecting an attack.
Selenike Icecalle, tall and stately, in her black dress with red accents, came out last, her gaze cold and penetrating, as if she was assessing the situation.
And finally, Harry Potter emerged from the time machine, his green eyes blazing with readiness to act, and a scar on his forehead like lightning cutting across the left half of his forehead. He went back in time to save himself.
Okabe frantically grabbed the device from his robe pocket, his fingers nervously running over the buttons, like a pianist performing a complex symphony. The screen of the device flickered, the arrow twitched like a mad ballerina.
"Nothing," he hissed through his teeth, disappointment and anxiety contorting his face. "We are alone."
Harry, feeling his heart pounding in his chest like a caught bird, looked around the time machine.
"FG-206," he read aloud, running his fingers over the numbers etched into the metal. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, mixing with the dust of his journey. "This is the wrong time machine," he whispered, as if afraid that the walls of the forest would hear him.
Okabe turned around sharply, his eyes like black beads glaring at Harry.
"What you said?" he exhaled, tension in his voice, like a stretched string.
"Number," Harry swallowed, trying to stop the trembling in his voice. "He's different. Last time it was FG-205."
Okabe froze, his face contorted into a grimace, as if he was trying to solve a complex riddle.
"World timeline..." he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Your journey... did it create a new branch?" his gaze darted around the forest, as if he was looking for answers among the trees. "Or... the Universe... it's falling apart," his voice trembled, and a crazy light lit up in his eyes. "Chaos... it comes through the cracks."
Suzuha clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white and stepped forward.
"What should we do?" she asked, her voice, usually firm and confident, trembling with fear.
Okabe straightened up, as if remembering his mission.
"We must stop the killer," his voice regained its former hardness, like steel tempered in fire. "Save Harry... save the Universe."
Jeanne, silently observing what was happening, clutched the flagpole, her fingers turning white from tension.
"Where is he?" she asked, her voice cold and decisive, like a blade ready for battle.
"He will appear," Okabe raised his device like a weapon. "And I will find him. I'll cut his way back. To the future."
The fire of readiness for battle, bordering on madness, burned in his eyes. He was ready to fight time itself to save the world from chaos.
Godric's Hollow greeted travelers with silence and tranquility. Cozy houses, surrounded by greenery and flowers, seemed like toys under the rays of the setting sun. Harry, clutching his wand in his pocket, walked between Jeanne and Selenike, feeling like a stranger in this peaceful corner of the past.
Selenike, looking like a bored aristocrat, slid along the pavement, but soon she had to catch up with the guys. And then her heels began to beat a rhythm, like a metronome counting down the seconds until the inevitable collision. Jeanne, with the flag behind her, looked around carefully, her amber eyes scanning every corner, like a predator stalking its prey.
Harry glanced at Selenike. The cold beauty of her face, sharp cheekbones, thin lips seemed to be carved from marble.
"Yggdmillennia," he whispered, remembering the meeting with the clan before traveling through time. - I wonder what other members of their clan would like...
Selenike caught his gaze, her lips curved into a grin, similar to the grin of a predator.
"We have our own goals," she answered, her voice was quiet, but there was a hidden strength in it.
Jeanne, as if sensing the tension between them, turned to Harry.
"Don't trust her," she whispered, her voice filled with worry. "She has darkness in her soul."
Harry nodded, realizing that Jeanne was right. He felt a cold aura emanating from Selenike, as if from a block of ice.
Suddenly, the walkie-talkie hanging on Jeanne's belt came to life. The crackling noise was replaced by Okabe's excited voice.
"Reader Steiner... he's here! Time machine... enemy agent..."
Jeanne, Harry and Selenice froze like statues, horror and desire to act were visible in their eyes.
"House of Potter," Jeanne breathed, and they began to run, leaving behind the quiet streets of Godric's Hollow, as if running away from time itself.
"Where are they in such a hurry?" Bathilda Bagshot muttered, watching them from the window of her house.
And Jeanne, Harry and Selenice continued to run, towards their fate, towards the battle that would decide the fate of the whole world.
The three time travelers slid like shadows along the narrow path leading to the Potters' house. The autumn wind rustled in the fallen leaves, creating a melancholic melody, foreshadowing an imminent tragedy. Harry, with a heavy heart, quickened his pace, sensing imminent danger.
Suddenly Jeanne froze, her gaze directed towards the dense thickets of bushes growing along the path.
"There's someone there," she whispered, her voice tense, like a taut string.
Selenike, with the air of an experienced hunter, listened to the sounds of the forest.
"Servant," she said, her voice cold and emotionless. "And he may not be alone."
Harry, feeling a shiver run down his spine, instinctively grabbed his wand. But Jeanne stopped him with a gesture.
"This is not your battle," she said, her gaze full of determination. "I can handle."
And, without waiting for an answer, she silently slipped into the thickets of bushes, like a ghost. Harry and Selenike remained standing on the path, watching what was happening.
The figure of Voldemort appeared at the end of the street. Tall, thin, with a pale face and glowing red eyes, he walked like a predator stalking its prey. His black robe fluttered in the wind like the wings of a bat.
"He's coming to the Potter house," Selenike whispered, her voice filled with worry.
Harry clenched his fists, feeling overwhelmed with rage and powerlessness. He wanted to rush at Voldemort, to stop him, but he understood that it was useless. He was just a boy, unable to resist the Dark Lord.
At that moment, sounds of struggle were heard from the bushes. The sound of steel, flashes of light, muffled screams...
Jeanne, holding a flag, fought with Passionlip, an Avenger-class Servant. Her movements were fast and precise, like those of a skilled swordsman. Passionlip, in her black dress and with a mask on her face, parried her blows, her eyes burning with a mad fire.
"You?" Jeanne exclaimed, recognizing her opponent. "I thought you had settled down after the incident in the Room of Requirement. Maybe it was worth finishing you off then?"
"You showed mercy, Jeanne d'Arc," Passionlip replied, her voice hoarse and mocking. "And now you will pay for it."
"I protect the innocent," said Jeanne, dodging the blow of Passionlip's dagger." And you serve evil. You will always lose, Passionlip."
"I serve my Master," Passionlip answered, her eyes flashing with anger. "And I will carry out his orders."
Their blades crossed in a deadly dance, sparks flying in all directions. Jeanne lit a flame around her left hand and strengthened her sword, turning it into a powerful weapon capable of defeating enemies with just its appearance. Passionlip, calling on her shadows for help, tried to surround Jeanne and deprive her of room to maneuver. The darkness closed in around them like a living thing, trying to consume the light and hope.
Jeanne, feeling her strength leaving her, took a step back, her breathing became labored, and sweat appeared on her forehead. Passionlip, taking advantage of her momentary weakness, rushed to attack, her dagger flashing in the moonlight, like the poisonous tooth of a snake.
At the last moment, Jeanne dodged the blow, but the blade still grazed her shoulder, leaving a deep wound. Pain pierced her body like a hot knife, but she didn't make a sound.
"Weak, just like then," Passionlip hissed, her voice full of contempt. "You don't deserve to be a saint."
She dealt Jeanne several more blows and knocked her down. She put her hand to the gaping wounds, but that didn't stop her. Jeanne, gritting her teeth, raised her flag.
"I never called myself that," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "I am a warrior. And I will fight to the end."
Gathering the remnants of her strength, Jeanne called on her faith, her devotion to the ideals of goodness and justice. The light emanating from her flag became even brighter, pushing away the darkness created by Passionlip. Passionlip, blinded by the light, staggered back, her shadows trembling and beginning to dissipate.
"No!" she screamed, feeling her strength flowing away like sand through her fingers. "I can't lose! I must carry out the Master's order!"
But the light was stronger. He penetrated into the most hidden corners of her soul, burning out darkness and despair.
"Goodbye, Passionlip," Jeanne whispered, her voice full of compassion and sadness. "May your soul rest in peace. Everything is dust, everything is dust..."
And with that, she delivered the final blow, piercing Passionlip's heart with her sword. The Servant's body trembled and then scattered into thousands of sparks, which slowly died out in the night air.
Jeanne, exhausted and wounded, sank to the ground. She won, but this victory came at a high price.
"Jeanne!" Harry and Selenike ran up to her, their faces full of anxiety.
"I'm fine," Jeanne whispered, trying to smile. "Just a little tired."
She looked towards the Potter house, where Voldemort's figure was already visible.
"He's close," she said. "We need to hurry."
And they continued on their way, towards their destiny, towards the battle that would decide the fate of the whole world.
They stood at the top of the hill, watching Voldemort's shadow move down the street, approaching the Potter house. There was tension in the air, as if before a thunderstorm.
Selenike, with the air of a predator studying her prey, turned to Harry.
"You have a chance to change everything," she said, her voice was quiet, but hidden power was felt in it.
Harry was silent, his gaze fixed on the house where his parents once lived. He knew that a tragedy was now unfolding there that would change his life forever.
"You can stop him," Selenike continued, her eyes flashing with a greedy gleam. "I can help you. I'm an experienced wizard killer, Harry. Together we can destroy it."
Harry remained silent, his fists clenched until his knuckles turned white. He felt a storm of emotions raging inside him: rage, despair, the desire for revenge.
"You can grow up with your parents," Selenike whispered, like a snake tempting its prey. "You will have a normal life. You won't be the Chosen One, you won't have to fight Voldemort..."
Harry closed his eyes, trying to drown out her voice. He knew it was a trap, that Selenike was trying to exploit his pain, his despair.
"You can change everything," Selenike repeated, her voice insistent, like drops of water sharpening a stone. "Just tell me and I'll do it."
Harry opened his eyes and looked at her. His gaze showed determination and... pain. He understood that nothing could be changed, that he had to go through his own path, his own destiny. He was silent. He was silent with all his might, although he wanted to scream. His lips pressed into a thin line and his breathing quickened.
"We have to go," Jeanne said, her gaze directed towards the Potter house. "The time has come."
And they continued on their way, towards their destiny, towards the battle that would decide the fate of the whole world. Approaching the Potters' house, Harry pulled out a neatly folded Invisibility Cloak from his pocket. Unrolling it, he threw the robe over his shoulders, after which he met Jeanne's gaze. Her eyes seemed to ask her not to do anything stupid, and he nodded in agreement. When her gaze expressed a silent question, Harry shook his head. He will go through this alone.
A deafening explosion pierced the air in Godric's Hollow, shattering the front door of the Potter house. An ominous figure in a black robe appeared in the clouds of acrid smoke. Lord Voldemort crossed the threshold, illuminating everything around with the ghostly glow of his red eyes. Every step he took echoed ominously, like the sound of a metronome counting down the last moments of the Potter family's life.
"Lily, grab Harry and run! It is he! I'll stop him!" James shouted in despair, snatching his wand.
The air shook with the fury of clashing spells. The azure flashes of James' protective magic melted under the pressure of the Dark Lord's spells. But he could not resist Voldemort's power for long. An emerald flash of Avada Kedavra pierced the air and burned away James' defensive magic. The Dark Lord's spell threw James against the wall like a rag doll. His body slid limply along the cold surface, leaving behind a trail of blood, like the signature of death.
Lily locked herself in the nursery in horror, clutching a crying Harry to her chest. With a trembling hand, she frantically drew ancient runes in the air with her wand, erecting a fragile magical barrier. Lily knew that this would not hold Voldemort back for long. Tears of bitterness clouded her eyes as she looked at her son's innocent face, realizing that she was doomed.
The walls shook. The runes flared up and crumbled into ash. The door flew off its hinges, opening the way to a nightmare. A tall, thin silhouette in a black robe stood on the threshold. The pale snake's face was distorted by a frightening grin. His shadow, like a monster, swallowed the room, cutting off Lily and Harry from the world of the living.
"Get out of the way, stupid girl!" Voldemort hissed.
"No, not Harry, have mercy! Kill me better!" Lily begged in despair.
"Avada Kedavra!" the dark magician barked mercilessly.
A flash of green light illuminated the room. Lily collapsed silently to the floor, still trying to shield her son with her body. Voldemort approached the crib, where the frightened baby began to cry. Curling his lips in a contemptuous grin, the dark lord raised his wand over the child.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A dazzling green flash momentarily eclipsed everything around. But the incredible happened - the spell ricocheted off the baby's forehead and rushed straight into the chest of the taken aback Voldemort. There was a monstrous roar, as if the walls of the universe were collapsing. With a chilling scream, the dark lord's body was scattered into ethereal pieces. His clothes fell to the floor and turned to dust.
Little Harry was left lying in his crib, crying in fear. A trail of blood, like lightning, pulsed on his forehead. Lily's motherly love and self-sacrifice gave her son the protection of ancient magic, which Voldemort himself did not know about.
Severus Snape quickly materialized in the middle of the destroyed street of Godric's Hollow. His eyes widened in horror when he saw a gaping hole where the front door of the Potter house had been. I was late... Snape's insides went cold with a terrible premonition. He rushed headlong inside, jumping over the rubble.
In the living room, Severus' gaze fell on the body of James Potter stretched out against the wall. His glassy eyes stared unseeingly into space, and a thin stream of blood flowed from the corner of his mouth. Snape froze for a moment, realizing the terrible truth - the Dark Lord had come here after all. But then he was overcome by desperate hope: "Lily! Maybe she managed to escape!"
Severus flew up the steps to the second floor in two leaps, not feeling his feet under him. He burst into the destroyed nursery and froze in his tracks. In the middle of the room, Lily lay with her arms outstretched. Her fiery red hair was scattered across the floor, and her emerald eyes stared unseeingly at the ceiling. Something snapped in Snape's chest. He fell to his knees next to the motionless body of his beloved, feeling the earth disappearing from under his feet.
Severus crawled closer and touched Lily's still warm cheek with a trembling hand. Her face seemed so peaceful, as if she had simply fallen asleep. A strangled sob escaped from Snape's chest. He carefully lifted Lily's lifeless body, pressing him to him, and sobbed desperately, burying his face in her hair. Severus's shoulders shook with silent sobs. The pain of loss tore his heart apart.
Nearby, a frightened Harry was crying heartbrokenly, sitting in his crib. But Snape didn't even notice the child's presence, completely absorbed in his grief. He pressed Lily's cooling body more and more tightly to his chest, as if hoping to breathe life into her. But the miracle did not happen. At that fateful moment, Severus Snape felt that the meaning of his own existence had faded along with his beloved. And no force can heal his wounded soul...
The sad cry of two souls orphaned that night - an adult man and a tiny boy - echoed in the ruins of a destroyed house, where love and happiness had reigned until recently.
But in the nursery, hidden under the invisibility cloak, there was another witness to this tragedy. Harry, with his face frozen in horror, watched what was happening, like a ghost, unable to interfere with the course of events. His heart was breaking with pain and despair, but he understood that he could not change anything, could not break the time line.
Harry walked out of the nursery like an automaton, his steps silent and heavy, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. He walked past his father's body, past his lifeless mother, clutching the invisibility cloak in his fists, as if trying to contain the emotions rushing out.
Leaving the house, he walked towards Jeanne and Selenice, his silhouette, hidden under the robe, seemed ghostly and unreal, as if he no longer belonged to this world. Only when he walked around the corner of the house, he threw off his robe, as if throwing off the burden of unbearable pain.
He fell to his knees, his body wracked with sobs that he could no longer hold back. Tears burned his cheeks like hot lava, leaving behind salty traces of despair.
Jeanne, with pain in her heart, watched him. She understood what he had gone through, she understood how hard it was for him now. She wanted to come up to him, console him, hug him, but she was afraid to frighten him away, afraid to disturb his loneliness.
Carefully, as if afraid of his reaction, she touched his shoulder. Harry didn't react, as if he hadn't felt her touch. Then Jeanne sat down next to him on the cold asphalt and hugged him, pressing him to her, as if trying to protect him from the whole world, from all the pain and suffering.
In her eyes one could read sympathy, understanding and... recognition. The recognition of this young man who, despite his young age, showed incredible fortitude by allowing a tragedy to happen in order to save the world. Recognition of a hero who did not yet realize his greatness.
Selenike stood aside and silently watched them. After a couple of moments, she grinned, her smile cold and cruel.
"It's a pity," she said, turning away. "You missed your chance."
Jeanne put her hand on Harry's shoulder.
"You made the right choice," she said, her voice full of sympathy and understanding.
Harry nodded, feeling her touch calm his raging soul. He knew that his path would be long and difficult, but he was ready to go through it to the end. Harry, his eyes full of tears, looked up at the top of the hill. There, Okabe stood frozen like a lone sentinel, his silhouette clearly silhouetted against the night sky. There was sadness and compassion in his eyes, as if he shared Harry's pain, as if he, too, had experienced this tragedy.
Okabe slowly walked down the hill, his steps heavy, as if he carried the weight of responsibility for everything that was happening on his shoulders.
"It's time," he said, his voice quiet and hoarse. "The time machine is waiting."
Harry, Jeanne and Selenike followed him silently, making their way through the night forest like ghosts, leaving no traces on the wet ground. There was emptiness and despair in their hearts, as if they had lost a part of themselves that night.
Having reached the time machine, they climbed inside, taking their seats. Okabe sat down at the control panel, his fingers nervously running over the buttons, as if he was trying to find a way out of a confusing maze.
"I retrieved fuel and equipment from another time machine," he said, his voice strained. "FG-205. I... I destroyed her."
"For what?" Selenike asked, her gaze full of bewilderment.
"To ensure that we have the opportunity to return and not mess up again." Okabe replied without taking his eyes off the remote control. "Now we have enough fuel for the journey. And... and something else."
He pressed a button and the time machine came to life, making a low hum like an awakening beast. Strange particles flickered in the air, like fireflies dancing in the night.
"What is this?" Harry asked, looking at the glowing dots with curiosity.
"Time particles," Suzuha answered, her voice quiet and mysterious. "They exist outside of time and space, they... they connect all world lines."
Harry remembered the indescribable multi-dimensional ocean that he had seen during his consciousness' journey through time. An ocean where the past, present and future merged together, where time lost its meaning.
"Time is not linear," Okabe said, as if reading his thoughts. "It's not a river that flows only in one direction. It's... it's more like an ocean, with ebbs and flows, with whirlpools and currents. We can travel through it, but we cannot control it."
"And what does it mean?" Jeanne asked, her gaze full of anxiety.
"It means the future is not predetermined," Okabe replied, his eyes lighting up with hope. "We can change it. We can create a better future."
And with these words, he pressed the lever, sending the time machine on a new journey.