Albus stood at the top of the astronomy tower, looking out over the grounds as they were bathed in the new light of early dawn.
It was one of his favorite spots in the castle, to think. To consider.
Idly tapped the edge of the stone ramparts with one wrinkled finger, he allowed his genial smile to slip away and let his eyes fall closed as the warmth washed over his tired face.
He felt a weight on his shoulders that was different, heavier than it had been in years.
He was slipping.
He was missing something. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Some underlying note of the song that was just slightly awry, throwing the rest out of harmony.
Ronald Weasley, killed by the troll that Quirrell thought would help him restore his master.
Tom Riddle, returned and escaped again, leaving behind a dead follower and another traumatic event to add to Harry's already difficult life.
The stone, gone from the mirror with no indication of where or how. Surely Voldemort couldn't have it; Albus had seen the specter escape from Quirrell's ruined body in Harry's mind.
Nicolas and Perenelle were gone too, now. Although they forgave him, he could not yet forgive himself.
Marietta Edgecombe, disappeared without a trace right under his nose. He now suspected Tom was involved with that as well.
And finally, Colin Creevy. Petrified without explanation, just like Mrs Norris. Just like the others, fifty years ago. Before he knew just what Tom was, and only suspected.
He had felt like this, back then.
During the war.
Tom was dangerous, unpredictable, and ruthless. Fighting against him was harrowing and exhausting, never able to be sure what tragedy would strike next. Seeing ghosts and demons around every corner, whether they were actually Tom's work or not.
He hadn't been this off balance in eleven years. He didn't appreciate the return of the uncertainty.
Albus couldn't risk going public with the attack. The ministry would be quick to point fingers, quick to take action against the last supposed culprit, and Hagrid deserved better than to be framed once again.
Something was still missing, hidden from his sight.
Was it just Tom? Was he back again, possessing another student or teacher under Dumbledore's nose?
Or was it something else?
…
Ginny stirred the glistening liquid in the steaming cauldron with robotic motions.
Colin's terrified eyes staring up at her, pleading her to help, to do anything…
She added the pre-sliced roots to the potion and stirred again.
His blood splattering the stone floor while the runes glowed and hungrily drank in his life, feeling the knife in her own flesh as the ritual twisted…
"Yay! It worked! Good job, Ginny!"
She glanced over at her lab partner and tried not to flinch at Luna's wide smile.
The blonde always looked so carefree, so innocent, even with her mismatched eyes. If Ginny didn't know, hadn't stumbled across what lay underneath…
She smiled back and looked away, repressing a shudder. She liked Luna, continued to be friends with her even after Luna's mother died-
Blood pooling and running across the wooden floor of the eccentric kitchen, leaking under the door…
But it was still hard; like sitting next to a feral dragon, or a capricious fae. She was never sure if she would be the next one to be burned.
She took a deep breath and let herself lean into the emerald chains wrapped around her soul. They were more comforting than they should be. Strangely enough, despite being just as dangerous as Luna, Ginny trusted Harry not to turn his teeth and his music on her. She trusted him to turn his horrific edges onto others, onto her enemies, if she asked. She was his, now, and she could feel that he was the type to take care of his Things.
Luna was less predictable, but at least Ginny could be more confident in her immunity now than ever before.
She leaned back and looked around the dungeon. Everyone else was also finishing up, although none of the other potions looked quite like theirs.
Professor Snape worked his way around the room before looming over their table.
"Miss Lovegood…" Snape drawled, his eyes widening minutely despite his normally cold control. "This is not a cure for boils."
Luna bounced in her seat and smiled up at the dour man.
"Nope! That sounded boring!"
Snape's eye twitched.
"I had not considered that adding the quills earlier and adjusting the ratio could produce such a potent poison. As boring as it may seem, I will have to ask you to refrain from creating such dangerous concoctions during class in the future," Snape said. He seemed far calmer than Ginny expected, given the circumstances.
His eyes met hers and she gasped at the emerald collar she could feel around his soul.
Harry owned him, too.
What?
"Ah. Miss Weasley. I wonder if I should congratulate you or give you my condolences."
Ginny almost laughed. She felt a bit manic. This was absurd.
"I don't know either, professor, but I appreciate both."
…
Despite making up her mind what felt like hundreds of times, Tracy still almost chickened out at the last second. The knot of anxiety in her stomach threatened to overwhelm her.
It shouldn't be this hard to talk to Daphne.
Her best friend.
Even if there was a wide, rushing river between them, now.
It felt like she could only watch from the opposite shore as Daphne drifted away.
She knew that it had to do with Potter, and Daphne's new friends. There was something… off… about them.
Tracy wanted to know. Wanted to be a part of the group. She and Daphne had always been the ones who saw through the charades, laughed and raged at the pureblood customs together even as they dreaded their futures.
But now… Daphne was different. She wasn't playing the same games as everyone else, anymore.
Tracy wanted to be free of the games too. She just didn't know if she had the courage.
But she knew that she couldn't let Daphne fall alone. She had to try, even if the broken glass cut her.
She quietly snuck through the curtains of her best friend's four poster bed and nudged her.
There was a knife against her throat and glowing emerald chains lighting up the night. Her neck prickled as tiny ruby drips slid along the blade.
It was a good thing that she had already silenced the dark space inside the curtains, because her strangled scream would have definitely woken up their roommates.
"Oh hey, Tracy. You shouldn't surprise me like that; it's not healthy," Daphne said nonchalantly, removing the dagger from her throat like it was a completely normal reaction.
Tracy tried her best to get her voice working again as she stared at the verdant chains wrapped around Daphne's arms.
What the hell?
Daphne sat up and waited while Tracy's breathing started to return to normal.
Her eyes followed the crimson droplets on the knife's edge as they flowed towards the tip.
It certainly didn't help Tracy's composure when her best friend ran her tongue over the blade and lapped up her blood, humming with a curious tone as she tasted her.
Was everything mad, now?
Don't think about it. Tracy took a shuddering breath and pulled herself together. If she stopped to think for too long, she would break.
"I know… I know you told me that I should talk to Potter, but I wanted to come to you first. I don't… you're different, Daph. I feel like we're drifting apart, and I don't like it. I'm still not sure about Potter, but I don't want to let you go."
Daphne tilted her head sideways and seemed to consider her carefully. It was unnerving, but Tracy forced herself to meet her gaze. This was still Daphne, even if there was something dark behind her pretty blue eyes.
Maybe there always had been.
"You're right, Tracy, and I'm… sorry, even if I don't regret making my deal with Harry. I didn't intend to leave you behind."
Tracy nodded. It was partially her fault too. The eyes in the dark alcove unnerved her.
"I want in, Daphne. Potter scares me, and honestly, you all kind of do too, but I don't want to get left behind. I'd rather dive into the unknown with you than watch as you fly away without me."
Daphne smiled. It wasn't necessarily a nice expression. Tracy took another deep breath. There was something else she needed to ask about.
"Daph… you said, last year, before Christmas, that Harry set you free. And then… then… your father disappeared…"
Her friend's eyes grew more intense as she peered into Tracy's soul.
"I know…" Tracy continued shakily, "you told me what he did to you, what he was… but…"
She pushed through, despite the eyes.
"I won't… tell anyone, or do anything but… Daphne, did Harry kill your father?"
There was a long silence.
"No. I promise, I won't lie to you, Tracy. Harry didn't kill my father."
Tracy didn't know if she should be relieved or not. She had been sure that she had figured it out, but she didn't think that Daphne was lying.
Then her friend's smile widened, and blood red eyes opened in the dark.
"I killed my father. Harry just handed me the knife and helped me clean up the mess afterwards."
Tracy didn't know if that was better or not.
…
Harry surveyed the crowded ballroom, looking for his date.
She did so like to run ahead.
He ignored the murmuring of the mingling partygoers as he strode across the cavernous hall.
A soaring canopy of glass trees spread wide overhead, letting rainbow light filter through from the distant suns.
The dappled beams highlighted the ladies in their intricate dresses and the gentlemen in dashing suits.
Drinking from goblets of crimson while they laughed merrily.
He found her twirling idly by the edge of the dance floor, her pretty dress swishing around her knees and her hands clasped behind her back as she stared skyward.
Harry couldn't help but smile.
"You look lovely, Alice."
She refocused on him, with her wide eyes.
"I didn't expect to run into you here, Mr Hatter," she said. Her voice was like chimes in a summer breeze.
"Certainly a pleasant surprise," he said. She had, of course, invited him. And walked with him through the forest, to the party, before she had skipped ahead. Not that it mattered.
The music started again, drifting through the mist.
"Would you like to dance?" Harry asked, although he already knew the answer. Why else would they be at a ball?
Luna smiled, nonetheless. "I'd like that very much," she said, taking his offered hand and leading him through the crowd.
For all their pretty costumes, the other partygoers didn't have faces. Just blank, empty masks of unblemished flesh.
Empty, empty, empty.
He turned and pulled her against him as they took their places among the faceless couples. He reveled in the feeling of her waist under his hand, her body aligned in harmony and the soft skin of her hand against his own.
They moved to the sweet music together, under the glass sky, as the crowd twirled around them.
Harry couldn't help but fall into her mismatched eyes and felt her doing the same to him.
She was so beautiful, his Alice.
Round and round they went, both around the endless ballroom and into and within each other's eyes in an infinite loop as they danced.
Within the Looking Glass.
…