September 2051, 46 years later.
Caleb and Jen had moved away from their group to take a closer look at the rust-coloured plaque. Their teacher had their back turned, and the other kids were scattered on the hills, ripping the bark off some trees or throwing rocks at grasshoppers.
A shimmering lake was stretching at the feet of a range of mountains, and a wooden fence was circling a very large perimeter. It disappeared over steeps, and reappeared higher, following each bend and curves of the land. Its diameter was probably calculated in miles.
Caleb frowned. "I don't see any castle!"
"Read the plaque, silly," Jen fired back.
Hogwarts Castle Territory
Land of the Dark Empire from 1998 to 2005
Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was founded in 854 by Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin. Its purpose was to teach Wizard and Witches from age 11 until their maturity at age 17, and help them learn about the magic in their blood. The school was a place of learning, of friendship, of magic and of light.
The school still exists, but it will never be visible nor accessible to anyone anymore. The perimeter fence shows the territory occupied by the Empire when a Dark Wizard named Voldemort took control of the world in 1998. His rule lasted for seven years—seven years in which he captured survivors and made them play deadly games in what you may have heard as Numberland. In March of 2005, a war was waged to put an end to his Empire. A powerful sleeping potion in the form of a fog was spread across the land, and Lord Voldemort and his minions fell into an eternal slumber. Protective magical barriers were erected around the territory in order to prevent the sleeping fog from spreading to the rest of the land, and to keep anyone from ever penetrating its treacherous territory.
Every year since 2005, on March 1st, Wizards and Witches come in front of Hogwarts territory to reinforce the barriers and reapply over and over again the Unplottable charm. A powerful magic that hides what you are supposed to see: the castle, the fog still endlessly wafting, and bodies—sleeping and dead. It's a commemorative event as well as a necessary precaution.
You could try to hop over the fence and march over the land, but you would bounce back. The loss of this school is a wound that we will never recover from. But we did what we had to do to protect the rest of our country.
Fifteen feet away from the plaque, that is where the sleeping body of Lord Voldemort lay. May he never find rest.
Caleb let out a dry laugh. "I don't believe in this myth. It's impossible."
"Magic exists." Jen crossed her arms, staring at the lake. Near the first plaque, there was another one engraved with the names of each person that was supposedly dead or asleep in the perimeter.
"I know," Caleb said, "but this is ridiculous."
Her eyes flashed, and she turned back to see if their teacher was looking. "Try walking into the territory." A dare.
Caleb did so. He slipped through the fence and strided forward, grass brushing against his legs. A few seconds later, he fell hard on his backside, like he had smacked right into a wall.
"See?" Jen jeered.
Caleb rubbed at his shoulders and got back up. He came back, grunting, face creased. "I would have liked to see what the castle looked like," he said, looking grumpy.
Behind them, their teacher hailed their names. Their field trip was halfway done. Tomorrow, they would return to school. Caleb's favourite class was 'The history of Magic'. They learned about Wizards and Witches, what kinds of potions and spells they could do. It was fun.
He was convinced that somewhere else on the planet, Wizards and Witches were learning about magicless people like him too.
Yorkshire Dales, Scotland—June 2008
Three years after the fall of the Empire
The cities didn't smell putrid anymore. Infrastructures, buildings, roads and houses were still destroyed. Some Wizards had taken the responsibility upon themselves to repair some damage. Even if some areas in specific cities were restored, people weren't using them. There were still a few Death Eaters roaming free. They weren't a lot, but they left wrecked buildings and Games symbols in their wake.
Small communities had started to form around the cities. Most of them were muggle communities, others wizarding communities, and some of them were mixed. Muggles and Wizards were learning to coexist, share supplies and put their complementary skills to use.
Hermione heard through the radio that the champions of previous Empire's Games, like Viktor, stopped living behind wards and started to distribute their supplies with struggling survivors. She heard rumors that some of them had participated in the war, but she didn't truly believe that.
She and Draco stayed at Yorkshire Dale, blanketed in wards and protection charms. They had started a search for an International Portkey after their visit to the museum in Germany. They decided to start looking for Narcissa in Canada, where her Portkey had supposedly made her land—Manitoba. The candle was the Portkey that Sankros had collected under Draco's order.
They traded and exchanged, travelling across Britain to meet with various Wizards. Almost everybody knew who they were, but nobody trusted Draco. So Draco started to disguise himself.
The only way they could safely reach North America was with a Portkey—they wouldn't be able to fly with Keela and Snowflake. And they didn't want to risk multiple-jumps Apparition all the way to another continent.
They exchanged their radio for a Portkey to France. Then, two months later, they exchanged that Portkey for a Portkey to Italy. It took them four months to find a Wizard family that desperately wanted to return to their homeland, and they exchanged it for a Portkey to Russia.
They weren't able to trade the Portkey to Russia for two years and a half. But in the meantime, they had found another radio.
They found a man who was ready to trade his Portkey to Texas for Keela. They refused, both shocked, although the United States was the closest destination they could wish for. Two weeks later, an underground market in Ipswich traded with them for a Portkey to Brazil. It took five weeks to find someone who accepted to trade the Portkey to Brazil for a Portkey to British Columbia.
They were certain they wouldn't find anything closer to Manitoba. Hermione convinced Draco that they could find a car once in British Columbia and drive all the way to Manitoba—which meant a 24-hour drive.
"This is the best solution," she said, reaching to take Draco's hand across the table.
He was focused on the Portkey shaped like a mug. Outside, the sun was shining over the grassland, the chirps of locusts drifting through the open window. In the living room, Keela was napping on the couch, paws hanging over the cushions. Her fur had started to pale around the muzzle and the eyes, but she was still playful and joyful. Snowflake was lazily sprawled over a square of sunlight on the floor.
His eyes were wet when he looked at her. "What if she isn't there?"
"I'm sure she is." She smiled tenderly, heart squeezing. They couldn't be sure if Narcissa had stayed put. And even if they went, maybe they wouldn't find her. They still didn't know where she was specifically.
Maybe she wasn't alive, maybe—
Hermione shook her head. "We can make the trip today."
Draco seemed to think, and she knew he must have the same thoughts as her. After a minute, he nodded.
"We can leave," he said. "But I want you to be sure that it's what you really want. If we leave, I don't know when we'll come back."
She inhaled deeply. "It doesn't matter to me if we come back or not. The important thing for me is that you find the only family you have left."
"But you—"
"You're my family," she cut him. "I'll go wherever you go."
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. A warm haze drizzled over her. She had never felt more safe in her life than with Draco. His eyes slid to her forearm, where she had inked nine numbers—42 to 50. He ran his thumbs over them.
Then he switched arms, and caressed the pistachio tattoo on the inside of her elbow.
"I'll never be able to make up for everything I did to you," he murmured.
She pursed her lips. "I don't see it that way anymore." They held each other's gaze. "You've made sacrifices for me. You've shown me over and over again how much you love me. I don't understand it, but at least I don't doubt it."
He pushed his chair back slowly, rounded the table, and kneeled before her. She was just a few inches above him.
"When I saw you for the first time in Bromley," he said, low in his throat, "I knew right when I saw you that you could survive the games. You were standing differently. You were looking at me differently. I felt even then that if you were ever a player, you would change the course of Numberland forever. And you did."
She shook her head. "Theo was already planning to bring it down." Saying his name still sent a pang through her chest. There were days where she couldn't talk about him at all without crying.
"He couldn't have done it without you." His eyes roamed over her face like she was the most precious thing in the world, and she inhaled his smell wrapping around her. "You saved my life, Granger, and you saved the lives of thousands of future players."
She hated when he made it sound like she was a war heroine. Like she had personally brought down the Empire and made everyone succumb to a powerful sleeping curse. Nothing would have happened if Theo and Draco didn't allow for her to meet with the Order or to break the rules, if they didn't brew the potion, if the Order didn't have so many soldiers ready to fight. And Narcissa had done so much to make it possible.
She exhaled a shaky breath.
"I know what you're thinking," he smirked. "You hate it when I talk you up."
She scoffed and evaded his burning eyes. "I actually hate to feel like I don't deserve you."
He leaned toward her, lips ghosting above hers. "You and me both." He kissed her, and pulled away. "Now, are we ready to leave?"
Finding a car in British Columbia hadn't been the hardest part. The trip from BC to Manitoba was long, most of the time filled with silence. Keela kept her head out of the window to bite the wind, and Snowflake settled on Draco's laps while Hermione was driving.
When they reached Manitoba, they drove around the province for days. The air was tangy with remnants of the fog, but it smelled fresh near bodies of water. They figured Narcissa would probably stay near water to breathe clean air, and so they especially searched along the shores of the Hudson's Bay and around the Lakes.
They got out a few times to situate themselves and memorize their surroundings so they could apparate easily. They let Keela run free in the grass and they fed sardines to Snowflake.
Hermione noticed Draco's face getting dimmer by the day. They had brought the little radio and she charmed it so it wouldn't change frequency. She still wanted to hear about the UK. She listened as it told them that Hogwarts would never reopen again, that trade was the best currency for both Wizards and Muggles, that numerous parties had been deployed overseas to eliminate the fog, that China's embryos of Numberland had been destroyed.
When their car ran out of petrol in Manitoba, they walked.
They were on the shore of Lake Winnipeg, Keela playing in the shallow water and Snowflake wandering around the bushes when Hermione spotted something on the wet pebbles.
"Draco?" she called, picking it up.
He came, whistling for Keela to come back closer.
"Look," she said, showing the pistachio in the middle of her palm.
He frowned. "Huh."
"I know." She pocketed the nut, a strange feeling unfurling inside her chest. She casted her eyes down and started to look around.
A few feet away, on the left, she saw another pistachio. She picked it up. One was a chance. Two was a pattern.
Then another, closer to the grass bank, where the pebbles ended and the soil began.
Three was a trail.
"I think—" Her breaths were shorter now, heartbeat quickening. "Draco, it's a trail."
He called Keela back, and Snowflake trotted toward them when he noticed they were leaving the shore. They found a pistachio every five feet. They weren't placed in a straight line, so their path curved on the land. They weaved around trees and shrubs. Her heart was hammering with the thrill.
Until, ten minutes later, the trail of pistachios stopped.
They were in the middle of a field—and there was nothing.
A handful of pistachios in his hand, Draco looked around. "Mum?" He called, again and again. The wind was blowing in his hair, and Hermione's heart ached for him.
She stepped to him, and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I really thought—"
A farmhouse appeared in the field with a strong woosh, and they jumped.
Narcissa, wand in hand, was standing in a garden, an apron tied at her waist. Her hair were darker and shorter, almost like a light shade of brown. She looked softer, her cheeks were fuller and she pressed a hand to her mouth.
"Draco!" she cried, before dashing to her son.
He ran to her, imitated by Keela, and Hermione scooped Snowflake in her arms. Her knees were trembling with shock, but she hurried to meet them.
Draco and his mother embraced, and Hermione could hear both of them crying. Narcissa's arms were tucked inside Draco's chest, like his entire body was folded around her. Protecting her. Loving her.
Then she pulled away, and precipitated on Hermione. She gasped when she saw Snowflake, and she sobbed even harder.
"You found him?" she squeaked, wiping her tears.
Hermione's tears slid slowly on her cheeks, but she was smiling. "Right after you left. We took care of him." She extended the white cat to his mistress, and she took him.
But instead of petting him, she put him down and pulled Hermione against hers.
"Thank you, my girl," she murmured in her hair. "I'm so glad you're okay."
Hermione's throat squeezed, and she hugged Draco's mother back. "Me too."
Narcissa bent to greet Keela.
"Mum, you put pistachios on the ground?" Draco asked.
Eyes shining, she nodded. "I wasn't able to get back to Britain. But I always knew you would come for me. The best way for you to find me was if I stayed put. I knew you would search near water. And pistachios, well, I found bags of them in supermarkets and I knew that only you would recognize what they meant."
She smiled, then picked Snowflake up and stroked him. Then, like she remembered something, she frowned.
"Where is…" She stopped, like she didn't know what she wanted to ask.
Draco swallowed and fiddled absentmindedly with a pistachio. "We need to sit down."
The farmhouse was tidy, and the warm summer wind blew through the linen curtains. The evening was drawing close, and dark clouds were looming over the land. Bugs were chirping in the grass, and the garden smelled like rich soil. It would rain soon.
Hermione, Draco and Narcissa sat on the porch, watching Lake Winnipeg and the shapes of spruces around it. A plate of muffins was set on the end table with a dish filled with pistachios, beside the small radio that crackled the faint voice of FM-034.
Hermione tucked her hair in a ponytail. A blanket was spread on her legs, and Snowflake was sleeping on her lap, paws tucked underneath him and facing the field. Keela was laying on her stomach at Draco's feet, yawning occasionally.
"Will you ever go back?" Draco asked his mother, still looking into the distance.
Narcissa didn't answer immediately, her cup of tea set on her knees.
"I don't know." The tall grass of the field started to sway under the wind. "It's all impermanent." She had grown somber with the news they had delivered.
Hermione kept quiet, gaze lost to the clouds rolling over the faraway hills. She still couldn't grasp this reality they were living. This year marked the tenth year since the arrival of the fog. Ten years since society had been brought to its knees. Ten years since the majority of the population died and the rest of them scattered in the darkness.
Society wasn't gone. The world wasn't gone. She didn't know how they would ever go back to a normal way of life. Hogwarts was lost forever. The place she had called home was also the prison that had shattered her in too many places.
She thought of Narcissa's words. How everything was impermanent.
That storm overhead would pass. Those muffins would cool down. The rock of the mountains would erode, and centuries would roll by like clockwork. But somewhere in the Highlands of Scotland, hundreds of souls would keep on sleeping. An eternal slumber that defied the impermanence of life.
With a vivid flash, she remembered something she had long forgotten. She gasped, delicately lifted Snowflake from her lap and gave him to Narcissa. She hurried inside to get to her bag. She rummaged through its magical depths feverishly for minutes. Hoping it was still there.
When her hand closed around the box, her heart jolted.
She returned to the porch and extended the chocolate frog to Draco. "Look," she said excitedly, a little out of breath. "I'm sorry, I found it three years ago and it's probably not even good anymore, but I thought it was special. Don't you think?"
Draco was staring wide-eyed at the candy in her hand, and Narcissa's mouth was thin, her chin trembling.
"Wh-What?" Hermione frowned, looking at them.
"Hermione," he said gently, voice tight. "Can… can I have it?"
"Of course. That's why I took it."
He exhaled a breath and took the box from her hand. She didn't understand what was so special about it, except the fact that candy was rare. He opened the box and caught the frog before it could flee.
He snapped the old chocolate in half and extended a piece to his mother, and a piece to her.
A tear was rolling down Narcissa's cheek, and Hermione decided to let them have their moment. Mother and son looked at each other as they put the chocolate in their mouth.
Hermione sat back in her chair, and let the slightly bitter chocolate melt in her mouth.
The radio sputtered softly. "The London Eye market celebrates its two-year anniversary this week. Make sure to stop by if you have something to trade."
After a moment, Draco took her hand, and they weaved their fingers together. "Thank you," he whispered. And she knew that the chocolate frog was meaningful to him for a reason he would say in his own time.
"For the first time in three years, no sightings of Death Eaters or Scavengers were reported in a week. We advise you to remain alert, and take every precaution as you—"
Hermione turned off the radio, craving her own company for the first time in years.
The rain came and stopped, the muffins cooled down and the chocolate melted, like the incarnation of impermanence itself. At the end of the evening, when Narcissa was back inside the house, Hermione and Draco stayed seated on the porch.
Together, they watched the fireflies blink in the night. They weren't always shining. Sometimes their glow dimmed and disappeared, and the insects seemed lost in the darkness for a while.
But light always came back.