Harry had been certain that his kidnapping would be the most daunting and perplexing situation he faced that week. Then again, his life had never been that simple. Instead, he had Karstark in front of him, her transfixing eyes glued to him, surveying every minute detail he gave away. Harry was sure that he was keeping absolutely nothing close to his chest, his eyes wide and any words he could process tumbling from his mouth in a nonsensical mess.

Because, it turned out, one of his captors was Enola Karstark.

He couldn't be blamed for the initial oversight. It wasn't as if Matthew had shared what her first name had been, meaning Harry could never have connected the dots in the first place. And yes, he had technically seen her before, but he'd like anyone to face a horcrux and then try to remember all the details. Not to mention that he was already in a deteriorated state, which ensured his brain wasn't quite up to scratch.

"I'm sure that this must have come as a bit of a shock," Enola said.

Harry's resulting laugh was borderline manic. "That's an understatement if I ever heard one."

"And you have no reason to believe me."

"I…I do."

It was strange how quickly the answer escaped his thoughts, and just how much he meant it. In fact, Harry hadn't once considered the possibility of the woman lying to him. It just felt…right, which was one of the reasons why he'd been able to come to the conclusion in the first place. There was an air of power circling around her that he hadn't felt since he'd last seen Matthew. And, given which allegiances she'd apparently formed, that left him more scared for the future than ever.

"Even so, there must be plenty of things you want to say to me."

"What are you doing here?"

"That might actually be the simplest thing to answer. I was attempting to find Matthew, to follow in his wake. I was only ever told that, as a child, he was forced to flee our home, before the conflict claimed his life. To track the route of a Tardis is tantamount to impossibility, and foolish at best. Therefore, it took me time. It took me years, until the barest hint of his flight path could be found, and even then it wasn't accurate. I was late. If what you say is true, then I'm too late, and if I start thinking about that…well, let's say I'll end up embarrassing myself in front of you when I've worked so hard to curate a certain image."

"But why are you here? Why are you working for Voldemort?"

"Because I had no other choice."

Harry's nostrils flared. "There's always a choice, especially when it comes to this. There were far too many people in the original war who joined Voldemort's side just because it was the easy option, a way to save themselves. If you want to convince me that you're like Matthew, then you're doing a poor job of it, because he would have done everything in his power to get away from a man like your master."

Harry realised that he might have been too harsh on the young woman, although she still was his captor, which surely meant that he could raise his voice at her. But her comments had evidently cut too close to home. He only had to look at the likes of Peter Pettigrew to see how a priority of self preservation could lead to other people dying. His parents would still have been alive if Wormtail had grown a backbone before it was too late.

"Then you have me wrong, Harry. Because I want it made perfectly clear that I'm nothing like Matthew."

Harry frowned. "He said that you were friends…"

"We were. But how many childhood friends stand the test of time?"

Harry couldn't exactly relate to that, seeing as he'd no such chums during his formative years. The Dursleys, and Dudley in particular, had seen to that. But he wasn't going to admit that to Enola, who didn't necessarily know about his backstory. She was perhaps the only person in the magical world who fell into that category, and that surely explained why he was wanting to impress her. There was no other reason, especially that related to the way her eyes tended to gleam or the way the corners of her mouth kicked upwards every so often.

"Why Voldemort? You realise that I'm never going to trust you because of these loyalties."

"Again, you're brave to be pushing me away. Most people would be at least willing to hear me out."

"I'm not like most people."

She smirked in quite a delightful manner. "I'm starting to see that, yes."

"If you were following Matthew, then you should have ended up at Hogwarts."

"Except I didn't. I've already told you how difficult the process was in searching for him. I was lucky to land in roughly the right time period, after multiple false starts. In the end, Voldemort was the first person who found me, who introduced me to this new world."

Harry felt a chill run down his spine as he wondered what sort of influence the Dark Lord had had on her. He pondered how Matthew had been discovered by Dumbledore, and how that had subsequently shaped the boy into the young man he'd become. How would that play out when the role model was so manipulative and volatile?

There was also another point that was confusing Harry, a point that made it slightly easier to give her the benefit of the doubt. In all his time dealing with Death Eaters, none of them had been brave enough to refer to Voldemort by his self-appointed title. It was always a case of 'master' or 'lord', as if uttering his name would bring about severe consequences. But not Enola. She'd said it as easily as any other word, making Harry wonder how she differed to her comrades.

Was she hiding a Dark Mark under her gown?

His thoughts then started to drift to examining her body so that he could find out for certain whether she'd physically committed herself to Voldemort. But the images he concocted were alarming to say the least, as he pictured what it would be like to be in that position. Harry was mainly worried that Enola had some of the same capabilities as Matthew, such as an ability to read thoughts when the opportunity arose. He just hoped she wasn't playing that card at that specific moment in time.

"I believe it was more than just a simple case of good fortune that brought him to me," she continued, evidently unaware of his bashful imagination.

"I don't think Voldemort arriving on your doorstep is good fortune," he countered deftly, perhaps invigorated by the spell she'd cast on him. "You can trust me on that, from personal experience."

"Good fortune for him, Harry, not the other way around. It became clear straight away that it wasn't down to luck that he was the first to greet my arrival. As it turns out, Voldemort has grown to be obsessed with both the power I possess and the methods in which I was able to travel through time. You wouldn't be able to explain why that is, would you?"

If Harry's hands had been free, he would have scratched his neck in awkward fashion. "Well…Matthew may have ruined his return to a full body thanks to the Tardis…"

Enola's smile was soft. "That sounds like the boy I know. He was always brash and headstrong, even at a young age."

The temptation was to let her waffle on, to reveal more about her past. In turn, that would provide more details about Matthew's upbringing. That sort of information had proven to be scarce over the years, to say the least. He was now being presented with someone who could share new stories about the boy, almost keeping him alive. But Harry knew that there were greater, more significant considerations to be had.

"Even if Voldemort was the one who found you, that doesn't mean you had to stay with him or serve him."

"What would you have done in my position? I was new to this world, approaching a foreign land. And then, out of nowhere, a man appeared who knew me, or at least knew of my background. Latching onto him was a way of survival, allowing me to steady myself, giving me the time to prepare."

"Prepare for what?"

"To be reunited with Matthew. I had to learn as much as I could about the world I was now in, otherwise I would have ended up just as lost as I might have been in the time streams. Voldemort and his followers could provide me with the information I needed."

"Careful…if they hear you talking like that, they'll snuff you out before you can blink. They don't like to be used."

"Are you already concerned about my wellbeing?" She flashed him a brilliant and bright grin that was at odds with her dark attire and make-up. "I'm flattered, Harry."

He blushed, seeing that Enola was just as skilled at messing with him as Matthew had been. "I wouldn't rush to any conclusions…"

She pouted playfully. "And here I was, getting my hopes up. Voldemort has spoken at length about you, so much so that it has become tedious at times. But he failed to mention how handsome a young man you are."

Again, Harry was sure that his cheeks were on fire, was sure that this was just a new form of torture the Death Eaters had created. Dark spells and forgivable curses may have been more in their remit, but he had to admit that they were creative. They may have been evil wizards and witches, but surely they weren't despicable enough to use teenage hormones against him.

"Funnily enough, I don't think that's the reason why he's interested in me."

"You might be right about that. But, rest assured, I can handle myself, regardless of what they throw at me. And Voldemort seems to know that, or is perhaps wary of what magic I can control, which is why I'm so often left to do as I wish."

"Such as talking to me?"

"A perk of the job, obviously."

"You know, you might deny it, but you sound just like Matthew. He was the most confident person I knew, forever boasting about his talents. Well…I say that, he usually didn't want the attention, but that didn't stop him from being assured of his capabilities."

"And where did that get him? Dead in a ditch from what you're telling me. From my perspective, it looks as if I made the right choice in siding with them. I'm still standing."

Harry bristled at her comments. "Siding with the same people who didn't even tell you that he was dead? That they're the ones who killed him?"

"I keep my secrets, they keep theirs. That's how the world works, Harry, as far as I'm aware. I'm still learning some of the intricacies of your society, which is a difficult task when we're forever stuck in this place."

"You're not stuck. You might keep telling yourself that to comfort yourself, to stop yourself from feeling bad about the choices you've made since arriving, but I'm the only one who can claim to be trapped. You're here out of your own free will. It doesn't matter how many pretty smiles you might send my way, nothing's going to change that fact."

"Do you know what I enjoy the most about you? It's the fire that's within you, coming out every so often when your anger takes hold. It's…electrifying. I can sense you've unlocked some of your pure magic, but that's not the sole explanation, far from it. I'm left wondering whether that fire is of your own making, or a gift left behind by Voldemort."

It was a point that had been troubling Harry for years, but even more so since the revelation that he, himself, was a horcrux. A part of Voldemort had been tethered to him since that Halloween night. How much had that shaped the person he'd grown to be? How much had that dictated his actions, his words, his relationships? He'd spent his formative years trying to convince himself that he was nothing like Tom Riddle, only to be told that they were impossibly, intrinsically linked.

"You're talking about the horcrux, aren't you?"

"That's part of it, for sure. Horcruxes are, without a doubt, the worst of magic. Of course, in my time, they didn't exist. But, if I've learnt anything over my travels, it's that some people are willing to go to any length to stave off death."

"If you extract it from me, then there's nothing to stop Voldemort from becoming practically immortal. He'd be able to hide it from existence, a horcrux that even Dumbledore doesn't know exists. We always thought that there were seven, including Voldemort. But now…we might have been off course. I need to escape, if just to tell my friends about this. But if you do as he wishes…well, they'll never find out…and I suppose I'll be dead shortly after."

"Then do you see it as a good thing that I lied?"

"You…lied?"

"It's going to take a lot more power than I possess to remove a horcrux, if you want your heart to remain beating."

Harry physically deflated. It was the one thing that had kept him going, that had kept his spirits from plummeting to rock bottom. Even then, it hadn't been much to cling onto. He might have stayed alive during the extraction process, but Voldemort would have struck him down as soon as the job was complete. When you were in such a position as Harry was, you learnt to cling onto any silver lining that presented itself. And now even that had been taken away from him.

"But…you told Voldemort…"

"I told Voldemort the truth, or at least part of it. You do have a horcrux inside you, and killing you would therefore be an act of self sabotage on his part. And a large dose of pure magic could theoretically remove it. It's just not something I'd be capable of on my own."

"Then why did you tell him…"

"...that I could do it? One, it certainly makes me look good in his eyes. Two, it reminds his other lackeys that I have more power, meaning they're more likely to stay out of my way. And three…well, you're not going to be much use to me if you're dead."

"How am I being useful?"

"Originally, I was hoping that you could lead me to Matthew, but now that seems to be a dead end, quite literally."

"Which means there's no reason to keep me alive. You may as well run along to Voldemort. I think he'll choose to kill me instead of worrying about the horcrux, seeing as he's still got a few lying around. He can afford to be careless with one."

Harry didn't know why he was offering himself up so willingly. Maybe he was trying to turn the tables, testing her for the first time. He wanted to see where her agenda truly lay, which horse she was backing. He wanted, more than anything, to have hope that she wasn't completely under Voldemort's thumb, otherwise his fate really would have been sealed. And the fact that she didn't move gave him a bit of optimism that he was on the right track.

"There is one reason for me to keep the lie going. The people in this house are dreadfully dull, truly one note sort of people, only ever talking about ruling the world, or destroying it at the very least. You've been the first source of proper entertainment I've had since coming here. So, Harry Potter, keep entertaining me and I'll keep playing this game. No pressure."

xxxxxxxxxx

How many times had she gone through this journey now? And yet, for Hermione, facing the Tardis hadn't grown to be any easier. This time around, she was flanked by Sirius and Dumbledore, having relayed her hairbrained scheme to the pair, the words coming out in a rush as she desperately sought their approval. It made a change to acting behind their backs, but she couldn't afford the delay that another grounding would have led to.

The other change that she was feeling this time around was the steely determination with which she looked at the blue box. Having been morose for so long, it was a foreign concept to be instilled with optimism. The Tardis itself had represented what she'd lost in the past, accounting for her nerves around the ship, but now it symbolised something a lot more beautiful - hope. If things went according to plan, then Harry would be closer than ever.

It felt good to view the Tardis as it was supposed to be, as it once was, rather than what it had turned into.

"Can you just run through again what you're planning on doing for me?" Sirius asked. "It's just I've never been able to properly wrap my head around the Tardis and…everything it does…and how it even works. And I don't want you putting yourself in danger, especially without your parents being told. Your mother frightens me half to death most of the time, and there aren't many people who can manage that."

Hermione was sure that her mother would have loved to have heard that praise.

"We've shown that the Tardis is more than capable of locating Harry and locking onto his energy signature, seeing as it's now on its books, for lack of a better term," she explained. "I'm hoping that we can use the same process. It worked in our third and fourth years. Frankly, I'm ashamed that I didn't think of this sooner."

Her gaze briefly lowered to the floor, that guilt threatening to eat away at her. As much as the realisation had brought about a renewed sense of faith, it had also been joined by a slap in the face, a proverbial bucket of icy water being thrown over her. Because she should have come up with the plan sooner. She should have cottoned onto the fact that they'd succeeded in the past thanks to the ace up their sleeve. And yet the Tardis had slipped her mind, her grief wanting her to forget the monument to her lost love.

What if Harry died solely because of her tardiness?

Sirius was the one to console her, walking up to Hermione and placing a comforting arm around her shoulders. He forced her to look up at him, evidently not alarmed by her teary disposition. She'd been fearful that she would find disappointment in his eyes, anger perhaps, seeing as she'd failed his godson. But he countered her dread with a warm smile, his eyes sparkling, instead choosing to view her as the person who was going to save the boy he cherished.

Which only added yet more pressure onto her shoulders.

"You can't beat yourself up," he instructed softly. "You may be the brightest witch of your age, but you're allowed an off day."

"Not when it puts Harry in danger!"

"He's already in danger, and that's not your fault. Since he was taken, you've been consumed by your worry for his safety. It's no surprise that you weren't as sharp as you usually are. All that matters is that you figured it out in the end."

"Not to mention the fact that there are plenty of adults who have experienced what the Tardis has to offer," Dumbledore added. "And none of them considered this possibility either. If there is guilt to be felt, then it can be passed around."

Sirius was nodding his head. "The only reason I didn't think of it was because I believed…well, I thought the Tardis wasn't working. That's what Harry told me, anyway. Something about it dying. I didn't even know it was alive to begin with."

"We're working on a lot of assumptions, obviously," Hermione said. "We don't know much about how the Tardis works. But we came up with the idea that, without Matthew around, the Tardis has lost the main source of its power. I…I think that, with an injection of that same power, she could operate for long enough to track Harry down. Flying her would surely be impossible, but that's where apparition can come in. It was that skill that got us into this mess, so it's only fair that it helps solve everything."

"But…we don't have any of that power, do we? If Matthew isn't here…"

Dumbledore's eyes were sparkling, which hadn't been the case over the past week. "I believe this is where Miss Granger comes in. She could, so to speak, plug the gap."

Sirius looked at her curiously. "You could?"

Hermione was steadily growing more nervous. "I'm not remotely saying that I have the same power levels as Matthew but…I have been able to access them. It's worth a try, isn't it? It's always been easier to use them when I'm faced with a life threatening situation, and this is certainly in that category as far as Harry is concerned. I've got to do this."

"Then I have every faith that you'll manage this."

"We'll provide whatever assistance you require," the headmaster assured her.

"I was thinking that…it might be best if I do this on my own," she suggested carefully. "That'll help me concentrate and…connecting with the Tardis is probably going to be quite a personal experience."

Sirius fidgeted uncomfortably. "I don't know about that…"

Dumbledore raised a hand to stop his protests. "We'll be outside throughout the entire endeavour, Sirius. If something goes wrong, we'll be able to intervene. I believe it is more important to give Miss Granger the best set of circumstances to tackle this."

She was slowly heading for the blue doors. "Thank you, headmaster."

"Good luck."

As Hermione ventured inside, she was well aware of the fact that there was every chance Dumbledore could have tried his luck at coaxing some life back into the ship. His feats of wandless magic proved that he had a strong connection to pure magic, even if he didn't totally see it in that regard. But the old professor was standing to one side, allowing her to do this. There was a sense that he understood the necessity of having a personal link to the Tardis to make the process remotely possible.

And there was the other reason as to why he was letting her take charge, the reason she'd said herself. She needed to do this. Dumbledore was giving her the opportunity to not only make up for her sluggish realisation, but also prove beyond doubt that she could harness the power within her. Harry had done precisely that during their endeavours to destroy the most recent horcrux. Now it was her turn to take on that responsibility, in the same place where her exploration of pure magic had started.

The Tardis had been a shadow of its former self the last time she'd been inside it, but even that felt like a bright oasis compared to the surroundings she was met with. It was almost difficult for Hermione to navigate the setting, with the darkness making her nearly miss the first step on the staircase. If her nerves had already been frayed beforehand, then they'd been shot to pieces following the stumble and she gripped the railing with a fierce might.

It broke her heart to see the ship in such a state, further inspiring her to go ahead with her plan. Even if it was a momentary return, to see the Tardis in its full glory one final time was worth the effort alone, forgetting how crucial it could also be in securing Harry's livelihood. Hermione got the feeling that the ship was trying to greet her, trying to welcome her with its usual warmth, but was failing to do so. She wondered whether her setting knew what she was about to attempt.

It was with a relieved sigh that she made it to the console, clinging onto it for emotional support nearly as much as physical. Hermione looked up at the central column, the only faint source of light that emanated in the chamber, and that was only because of glass reflecting the sunbeams filtering through the small windows. Shut off from the rest of the world, the unwavering silence made her feel more alone than ever, highlighting how she didn't have her two boys beside her.

Highlighting why she was going to such lengths now.

"Hello, old girl," she whispered, her palm placed against the column, trying to figure out whether the subtle warmth was just a creation of her imagination. "I really need your help."

Hermione didn't exactly know why she was talking to the Tardis, knowing that it wasn't going to respond anytime soon. But it was easier to face the challenge if she considered the ship as a companion supporting her efforts, rather than just a tool. A tool that was broken and obsolete. And she'd seen Matthew hold conversations with it so many times that it was like she was following in his footsteps. Perhaps copying his actions would be the key to re-energising the craft.

"I don't know for sure what you need from me, but I'm really praying that I've reached the right conclusion. What do you say, hey? One last adventure for old time's sake?"

Naturally, she wasn't met with any response, or at least not one that she was able to decipher. But there weren't any complaints either, which had to be seen as a good sign. And she was going to accept any encouragement that came her way. So, putting all her effort into concentrating her mind, using the same mental techniques Matthew had taught her for years, she spread out her hands, letting them rest against the cool console. And she closed her eyes, hoping for a miracle.

She'd properly seen her fingertips imbued with pure energy once before, during a visit into Matthew's mind. Hermione drew on that inspiration and she would have been met by a similar sight if she'd bothered to open her eyes again. Her hands, unmoving from the machine, started to glow, golden power billowing around her digits like a storm. She didn't have to open her eyes to know that something was happening, for she felt it through the warmth that spread from her hands across her entire body.

Buoyed on by the sign of success, Hermione focused even harder on allowing her pure magic to take hold, to let it run wild. Perhaps that was always the thing that had held her back in the past, her unwillingness to relinquish control. She liked to be in charge of everything, particularly her own body. Now, she was trying a different tact. She was willing to be directed by the power, feeling how it wanted to escape. It was as if the Tardis was responding to its presence, dragging it further out of her body, desperately searching for me like a person would take breaths after nearly drowning.

And, as it embraced the new source of pure magic, the ship thrummed in delight. It was quiet at first, nothing more than a hum. But then the approving noise was joined by the console gaining life, glowing as it once had done all the time. The central column followed suit, accompanied by the surrounding lights, the entire chamber washed in a mixture of light and magic in a display that Hermione couldn't even enjoy. Though she was sure her two spectators outside were being treated to a magnificent show.

"I need you to find Harry," she instructed, her voice sounding more forceful and authoritative than it had ever done. "I need you to latch onto his aura. Take what you need from me. Whatever you need, it's yours. I'm yours."

Her magic spilled away, rising and coalescing around the column, the Tardis working with the energy in a triumphant performance. Sparks flew from the console, perhaps in protest at the sudden charge, perhaps in the sheer effort of following her order. The monitor buzzed and whirred, a myriad of locations flying by on the display as it searched for her friend. All the while, Hermione felt herself slipping, felt her body wanting to give up, felt the Tardis draining her of everything she was worth.

It was only when she heard the systems chime that she let go, the ship somehow telling her that she'd done enough. She was falling soon after, the doors springing open. Hermione wasn't sure whether that was the Tardis alerting her protectors, or the two men somehow sensing her collapse. Whatever the reason, Sirius was soon clutching her, cradling her shattered body as it tried to recover. She was too dazed to understand his words, if he was talking at all.

The lights were once again dimming, the Tardis giving one last bow. Hermione just hoped that it had lasted long enough to work, that the results could still be seen. She didn't have the energy to direct Dumbledore to the screen, didn't have the strength to tell him what he needed to be looking at. But he somehow knew all the same, walking over to that specific part of the console and sucking in a sharp breath.

"We have our heading," he announced.

Sirius checked Hermione's stabilising condition before moving away. "Where? Where is he?"

"If I'm correct…that's Malfoy Manor."