The feeling of déjà vu was overwhelming.

   The sky was dark and the wind was cold, but even the damp chill of the wind did nothing to block the heat from the building. Even as Lupin squinted through the acrid smoke, he felt himself already sweating. He couldn’t see the tendrils of Fiendfyre just yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time.

   It’s the war all over again, Lupin thought numbly. Sirius, what have you done?

   Cassane pulled back his hood and wiped some of the ashes from his brow as he surveyed the flaming building. All around them Aurors and Hit Wizards were screaming and spraying geysers of water at the building, but Lupin knew they were only doing it as a containment mechanism to prevent the fire from spreading. It would take a wizard of considerable power and skill to wrest Fiendfyre away from the caster’s control, and even more power to banish it.

   And Cassane’s good enough to do it, Lupin thought suddenly, so what is he waiting for?

   “If we want Black alive,” Cassane began slowly, his voice only loud enough for Lupin to hear it above the din, “we need to get him out of there. The banishment spell will incinerate anything inside the radius of the Fiendfyre, and that will include Black.”

   Lupin looked at Cassane with disbelief. “So you’re telling me that someone needs to go into that hellhole? It’s suicide –”

   “Not if you’re fast, smart, and talented enough,” Cassane cut him off, not returning Lupin’s glance. “Unless you think you’re good enough to talk Black down –”

   “Wait, me?”

   “– So he can banish the Fiendfyre on his own – and if he tries, he’ll need to leave the building,” Cassane continued, giving Lupin an irritated glare. “Either way, someone needs to go in. And right now, Black’s got nowhere to run – he’ll fight like a dog in a corner. At least this way he won’t be harmed.”

   “And then what?” Lupin asked angrily. “You honestly think he’ll surrender himself into Auror custody? He’ll be Kissed –”

   “Cassane, Lupin!” an Auror Lupin didn’t recognize shouted. “We need support, now!”

   Cassane ignored the Auror. He only stared at Lupin, and immediately, the werewolf understood. Of course.

   “So…” he began quietly, “so what do I need to survive in there? Bubble-Head Charm, Flame-Freezing –”

   “Not nearly good enough,” Cassane muttered, drawing his wand and sketching a few glowing symbols in the air. “The magic Black’s using to protect himself is woven into the Fiendfyre casting – as long as he maintains mental control, the fire won’t hurt him. However, the Fiendfyre will superheat and blow up any Bubble-Head Charm you try to use, and Flame-Freezing only works with fires that operate at normal temperatures – if you use Flame-Freezing against Fiendfyre, you’ll get frostbite bad enough to lose limbs.” He muttered a few words, and the foreign symbols glowed blue-white before zooming towards Lupin. He winced for the inevitable impact, but the symbols didn’t touch him, only began to orbit around his head like a constellation.

   “What the…”

   “Highly delicate magic Dumbledore worked on when he fought Grindelwald,” Cassane replied briskly. “It’s timed, it won’t hold for long, but it will block against smoke inhalation and the extreme heat. The actual flames –”

   There was a crack of splintering masonry, and the squeal of overheated metal, and Lupin winced as he heard the thunderous crash.

   Cassane nodded curtly. “And that, obviously… well, it won’t block that. It’s still dangerous, but I reckon Black will be on the press floor. The spells fade in ten minutes – you’ve got that much time to get Black out of there. If you’re not out by then…”

   Lupin nodded. “I got it.” He took a deep breath and wiped his eyes again as he prepared to run. “Here goes nothing.”

***

   “If anything, it makes way too much sense.”

   They were walking quickly down the darkened hallways. He could hear Dumbledore’s robes rustling as they headed down the stairs towards the dungeons, the only other sound besides the crackling of the torches and his voice.

   “An interesting statement, Harry,” Dumbledore remarked, his wand suddenly lighting without a thought. “Would you care to elaborate?”

   “There were other secrets of Hogwarts that Tom Riddle – Tonks, that was Voldemort’s old name – found when he was at Hogwarts,” Harry began, drawing his own wand as they entered the dark, dank hall, where which most of the corridors in the dungeons sprung. “He found the Chamber of Secrets in his sixth year, in 1942, and he used it to attack Muggleborns, but after Moaning Myrtle was killed, he laid low. He knew that you, Professor, were keeping an eye on him.”

   “Clearly not closely enough,” Dumbledore said grimly.

   “Professor, you can’t blame yourself, you were in the middle of a war with Grindelwald, in 1943,” Tonks replied, shaking her head. “You couldn’t be everywhere at once. Go on, Harry.”

   “So my guess is that during his seventh year, Riddle decided to go even deeper into Hogwarts,” Harry said, turning down a corridor that went past Snape’s old classroom. “He would have had a natural curiosity for the old pureblood families, and I can bet anything that he might have heard old stories about Phineas Black from either Sirius’ father or uncle.”

   Tonks winced. “So that insane nutcase, that monster Cygnus Black, the one that was possessing Sirius when he attacked us and destroyed the Shrieking Shack – he might have set Voldemort off on this hunt?”

   “Seems likely to me,” Harry admitted. “This is just my guesses, but it makes sense. So let’s say that Voldemort connects the dots like we did and begins looking for Phineas Black’s tomb – the tomb the Headmaster built, but was never laid to rest in. A tomb that wasn’t meant to be built inside Hogwarts, and cracked the surface of the protections the Founders placed over this spirit chamber.”

   “Plausible enough,” Dumbledore said calmly, as they passed Snape’s classroom and continued towards the storage rooms. “And we’re heading for that place right now?”

   “Yes,” Harry breathed as they rounded the corner to reveal a long row of closed doors – Snape’s storage cupboards. “But here’s the thing – Riddle was in his seventh year at Hogwarts, and as smart and talented and powerful as he was, I sincerely doubt he had the magic to get into the spirit chamber.” Harry grimaced. “But I bet he took down everything he could about the entrance or any protections to get there, and I bet he spent some of his time abroad finding the magic he’d need to break inside.”

   “And skipping forward to September, he teaches Theodore Nott everything he needs to know to get inside,” Tonks finished, as they strode past door after door. “And he relies on Nott being smart enough to figure out the magic and break the… seals? Is that what’s keeping the dangerous ghosts back, Harry?”

   “I honestly have no idea,” Harry admitted. “I only get glimpses of the mechanism that the Founders built in that chamber – honestly, it doesn’t quite make much sense, it looks way ahead of its time – so I’m not entirely sure how to stop things, but I do know that Voldemort will have built in some sort of failsafe to prevent Hogwarts from being destroyed.”

   “That… doesn’t sound like Voldemort,” Tonks said sceptically.

   “On the contrary, Miss Tonks,” Dumbledore corrected. “In fact, Harry’s logic makes a great deal of sense – I can easily guess Voldemort wanted Hogwarts intact and stable once the spiritual attacks had finished.”

   “Excepted he miscalculated,” Harry murmured. “He didn’t know what Tonks and I were doing.”

   Tonks let a tight smile slide onto her face as she drew her wand and lit the tip. “You’re talking about simulamancy.”

   “It caused the conjunction,” Dumbledore said grimly, “of that I am quite certain. The interfering magic caused the protections around Hogwarts and its grounds to mutate, thus producing the time distortion surrounding the school. And if the patterns that Alastor described to me are accurate –”

   “Wait, you spoke with Moody?” Tonks interrupted, her eyes widening and her hair going bleach-blonde. “Where, when?”

   “Right before I went to the Hospital Wing to see you two,” Dumbledore replied, giving Tonks a small smile. “I needed to make sure I was on the same page as the two of you, and to retrieve these.” He reached into his pocket, and Harry couldn’t help but make a noise of surprise as Dumbledore pulled the Ectoplasmic Harpoon and Projector from his pocket and handed them gently to Tonks. “I figured, given we may encounter malevolent spirits, that they could come in handy. But back to our discussion, the conjunction also gave Voldemort’s agents a certain degree of flexibility. Normally magic such as this requires a highly controlled pattern to be effective. Here –”

  “He could go through the houses out of order,” Harry finished, his grip tightening on his wand as they turned down another corridor, this one even darker and dirtier than the last. “But I could only imagine how unstable that’s made the magic, or what it’s done to Nott’s sanity. But what we do know is this: if we go through the list of possessions on our pattern, with Luna being possessed by both a Slytherin and Ravenclaw ghost, Ernie being possessed by two different Hufflepuff ghosts, and… when Voldemort possessed me as the second Gryffindor possession, it means that Nott only has two possible possession options left: a Slytherin and the last Ravenclaw.”

   “Which symbolizes death, and with the time distortion, is likely a spirit that not even Theodore Nott will dare release,” Dumbledore said quietly, his eyes flashing dangerously. “Such a release has the very real capacity to slow time to the point where Hogwarts is either lost forever, or instantly destroyed. Both plans would not please Voldemort –”

   “Professor, with respect, at least from what I… remember from when I was possessed, Nott’s insane.” Harry took a deep breath as he slowed his walk, coming up on a blank strip of wall next to a barred door. “If he’s even aware of Voldemort’s orders, he might disregard them anyway.”

   “This was the room where we kept the two Hit Wizards, Larshall and Sanders,” Dumbledore said sharply, pointing at the barred door. “That explains how they were freed so easily, if we’re close to the entrance of the tomb.”

   “We are,” Harry muttered, crouching low and examining the ground. He wasn’t surprised to see much of the thick dust and grime on the floor was scuffed and disturbed – someone had run through the area recently. “Professor, I think we’re close – do you have any spells or magic that could detect secret doors?”

   Dumbledore frowned. He raised his wand and murmured a few words Harry couldn’t catch. Immediately, four red sparks popped out of the Headmaster’s wand, and immediately began to skim across the walls, ceiling, and floor. Without warning, the spark that was sliding along the left wall let out a loud ping and flickered brightly.

   They hurried to the spot as the sparks faded, and Harry scanned the blank stone wall.

   “You think the door is here?”

   “Oh, most certainly,” Dumbledore replied thoughtfully, “but the question is how to gain entrance. Such an entrance would have been crafted by Phineas Black, so one must wonder what enchantments he would have used –”

   “EXPULSO!”

   Harry flung a hand over his eyes and stumbled backwards as shards of stone peppered his robes. He wiped his eyes hastily to see Tonks smirking as she blew across the top of her wand.

  Dumbledoure gave a small cough, but Harry noticed a small smile on the old man’s face. “Well, there’s that method too.”

   Harry crouched and pushed himself through the narrow hole Tonks had blasted in the rock, lighting his wand as he stepped into the tomb, a half-remembered image coming to his mind.

   “This is it,” he said, as Dumbledore nimbly stepped through the hole.

   Despite the broken stone filling the room, it was every bit as ostentatious and overwrought as Harry had expected. White marble gleamed from the light of his wand, intricately carved with writhing snakes, entwined around the Black family crest. Harry could spot traces of dusty silver ornamenting the walls, and as Harry glanced back at Tonks climbing through the hole, he noticed a rather striking fresco of what looked like Hogwarts covering the wall.

   “A tomb fit for the most kingly of Headmasters,” Dumbledore said, his expression hardening as his wand brightened. His bright blue eyes immediately fixed on the ornate sarcophagus, set in a depression against the far wall. “And I suspect our culprits entered the depths through that.”

   Tonks aimed her wand at the sarcophagus, but Dumbledore raised a hand, gesturing for her to wait.

   “Do you think it’s trapped?”

   “Almost certainly, Miss Tonks,” Dumbledore replied grimly, gesturing at the ceiling. Harry looked up and immediately took a step back as he saw the jagged-looking silver runes lining the arched ceiling. “Likely a trap or barrier in some form to prevent all but Slytherins from approaching, a trap that Voldemort would not have bothered to remove.” He glanced at Harry, who was eyeing the sarcophagus cautiously. “Harry, why don’t you go and take a look?”

   “But you just said –”

   “Ah, but I suspect you might just display enough Slytherin tendencies to get through,” Dumbledore replied, stroking his beard. “Don’t worry, I’ll Summon you away if there is any danger.”

   Harry gritted his teeth, but he stepped forward, crossing the line of runes, bracing himself for the worst –

   Nothing happened.

   Dumbledore’s eyes brightened. “Ah, good. Now, Harry, if you would examine the sarcophagus?”

   “Wingardium Leviosa,” Harry muttered, stepping into the depression and gesturing at the heavy sarcophagus lid. The marble slab immediately lifted free, and Harry carefully set it down adjacent to the coffin with a heavy thud.

   “It looks like…” he began peering into the blackness of the sarcophagus.

   “Yes?”

   “I think this is our entry, Professor,” Harry said quietly, gazing into the shaft hidden inside the sarcophagus. The light from his wand only lit a few meters down the shaft – it looked as deep as the shaft down to the Chamber of Secrets. “Professor, do you have Fawkes?”

   “I’m fairly certain Fawkes will not be able to pass through the trap, Harry,” Dumbledore replied with a frown. “Is it deep?”

   “Yeah,” Harry said, peering into the darkness. “Which raises the question how Nott got down there without hurting himself – or why the builders of this place didn’t notice the shaft –”

  There was a sudden sizzle, and Harry spun to see a white scrawl of energy erupting from the tip of Dumbledore’s wand. The line of energy lazily contorted, slicing across the runes on the ceiling, each dying with a sudden pop and a burst of foul-smelling smoke.

   “I am sorry, Harry,” Dumbledore apologized, as the last of the runes popped away and he stepped closer. “Just a moment ago, the formula of the runes became apparent to me, including how one might disable them.” He glanced down the shaft. “Hmm… we might need Fawkes here – this shaft does not appear nearly as slick or safe as that of the pipe for the Chamber of Secrets.”

   But Tonks frowned even harder as she stepped closer, her hair going long, straight, and a swampy green. “Well, I’m not the expert here, but it might not be a good idea to bring Fawkes in here, Professor. If there’s magic down there that works on patterns of life and death, wouldn’t a phoenix mess with that pattern?”

   Dumbledore paused. “An interesting hypothesis, Miss Tonks – and also one we cannot afford to take lightly, as I suspect we will soon be dealing with magic far beyond all of our ken, arcane secrets from the Founders of this very school.”

   Harry took a deep breath as he looked back at the hole. “So, who first?”

***

   He wished his thoughts were less clear. He wished that he could blink with confusion and shake his head with disbelief. He wished that he didn’t understand – no, that he was incapable of understanding.

   But he wasn’t. Everything was as clear as glass, as the crystal that he once had stored in the mahogany cabinets of his manor.

   Before everything had gone to pieces. Before he had to stand in a ruined building and face his son.

   Putting as much weight as he dared on his cane, he got to his feet, his wand sliding to his fingers. Despite the shallowness of his breaths, his fingers were dry, not slick with nervous sweat. If anything, he was calm, composted. Like a Malfoy should be.

   The Dark Lord did not say a word – the red-eyed gaze alternated between him and his son. Nothing more needed to be said – it was a very clear ultimatum.

   He could see the cracks in his son’s scarred visage – the uncertainty, the fear, the outright terror – and for a second, he wondered why he didn’t feel those emotions. By all reckoning, he suspected he should feel despair or fear or rage – but he didn’t.

   “Lucius…”

   He could hear his wife’s plea, and despite himself, he glanced at her. All of the emotions that he didn’t have were plain on her face, and for a second, he wanted to break out of the slowly-forming circle and hold her in his arms –

   “Make a decision, Lucius.” Bellatrix spat every word from her mouth like venom. “The Dark Lord may have bought us some time here – on my advisement, of course – but the half-giant oaf and his lizard are on their way.” Her eyes blazed with hateful fury. “And I’d prefer that my sister does not come to harm.”

   “I understand.” In his mind, he was astounded how calm, how controlled he sounded, and despite himself, a tiny grin slid onto his pallid lips. “Fortunately for us, I have another option.”

   And he did. It was a desperate ploy, an ace in the hole, but it could work. He would take the easy way out – the Malfoy way out – and save his son the torment of killing his father.

   His hand snaked inside his robes, to an innermost pocket where he kept a tiny vial he had received over fourteen years ago, a vial filled with a clear liquid, a vial no Auror would understand why he, of all people, kept on his person.

   He flicked the tiny cork cap free with his thumb as he brought it to his lips. He watched Bellatrix’s mouth open in a shriek, the Dark Lord’s eyes narrowing sharply, but they could do nothing to stop it, the fluid was already trickling down his throat, and soon he would feel the pounding in his chest and it would end…

   There was no pounding.

  He froze. Something was wrong. He stared at the vial with horror and panic even as a faint feeling of numb fog filled his mind – it wasn’t possible, he had seen the damned bat test it before he gave it to him –

   The vial slipped from his numb fingers, but did not crash to the floor.

   It flew to the white fingers of the Dark Lord.

   “Oh,” the Dark Lord whispered, his red eyes gleaming with sudden recognition, “oh this is very interesting… Severus, you brilliant, devious man…”

   The Dark Lord looked up at Lucius, and his lipless mouth twisted. “So you sought a relief through Liar’s Heartstone, which would bring your death if the Veritaserum slid down your throat… ingenious, Lucius, truly ingenious, and such a heartwarming display of affection for your son…”

   The mouth twisted into a cruel smile. “Shame that it appears, at least initially, that Liar’s Heartstone is fake.”

   There were gasps from the Death Eaters, even as Voldemort continued to admire the tiny bottle.

   “A brilliant con,” the Dark Lord murmured. “Earns the man his Potions Mastery, and gives his friends a way to avoid the dull tang of Veritaserum – and best of all, the Ministry dares not test his invention, for such deaths would appear as ‘interrogation casualties’. So they rely on the word of a man vouched for by Dumbledore himself, for even in the years of Crouch, they would not dare cross Albus Dumbledore.”

   The Dark Lord’s eyes lit up. “And that means, Lucius, that even if you summon the will to kill your son, you have no desire left to live – and while I do appreciate those with nothing to live for, they have a bad habit of seeking the cold, dark, embrace of death instead of seeking something more constructive.” The Dark Lord glanced meaningfully at Dolohov, whose eyes were stony.

   “My Lord, we must consider the time,” Dolohov said curtly. “Given the rough distance between Nott’s manor and this wreck, I suspect Hagrid and his dragon will be arriving shortly.”

   “Agreed,” the Dark Lord replied briskly, “so let us wrap things up? Lucius, you clearly have no intention of killing your son, and to judge by the petrified look on his face, he cannot kill you. So here is what will happen: I will be a merciful Lord, and extend mercy to your wife.” He nodded to Bellatrix. “After all, I keep the interests of my closest friends in mind.”

   He could hardly believe his ears – Narcissa would be safe, she would have sanctuary –

   The Dark Lord’s eyes narrowed. “However, your son needs to learn a few very important lessons, and I think it’s appropriate that you watch. Fenrir, if you will.”

   He didn’t even see the werewolf leap from the shadows, but he heard his son scream as the werewolf pounced onto Draco, his razor-edged nails slashing, his gleaming teeth biting. He heard Narcissa scream, but Bellatrix’s grip on her sister’s arm was iron.

   “It’s not the full moon,” the Dark Lord said conversationally, ignoring the strangled yells and blood splattering across the broken floorboards, “but rest assured, once Fenrir is finished breaking Draco, Bellatrix will take great care in putting him back together.”

   He couldn’t say anything. He knew the blood was gone from his face as he watched the werewolf tearing into his son with savage intensity, the screams only split by the sounds of snapping bones and tearing flesh.

   “And I?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

   The Dark Lord had no expression. “In recognition for your years of service, Lucius: I will be merciful this one time. I grant you a clean death.”

   He wished he could be standing on the marble floor of his manor, a place worthy of his final stand.

   He wished he could hold his son and tell him that somehow, the Malfoy name would stand tall, that they would somehow persevere and seize the greatness they had once craved.

   He met Narcissa’s beautiful eyes and he wished he could hold his wife as well and tell them that he loved them, that he would always be there for them, and that whatever he was called to do, he would always come home.

   “Avada Kedavra.”

   There was a flash of green, and his wishes died unspoken.

***

   Despite the light of their wands, the darkness didn’t fade away.

  It was almost like a living thing, clawing and scratching back every fragment of light, as if the very presence of light in the chamber was somehow an affront to the darkness.

   Dumbledore lowered his wand very slowly, the soles of his boots still glowing from the spells cast so that they could land safely. The white light from his wand only highlighted the lines on his face and the blazing energy in his eyes.

   “Harry, do you see anything?”

   Harry raised his wand a little higher as he tried to peer through the blackness. The ground beneath him was unhewn stone, rough enough to nearly twist his ankles upon landing, but he had the strangest feeling that the jagged roughness of the rocks was not only intentional, but sculpted, as if some ancient intellect had shaped the ground to look like it.

   He tried to peer through the darkness – he couldn’t tell how big the room was, it was too dark. “Professor, I don’t see anything. Don’t you have any better spells?”

   Dumbledore frowned for a few seconds, and then with a quick murmur, raised his wand high. The spark of light that leapt from the tip of the wand soared upwards, pushing back the darkness over the jagged ceiling, but barely illuminating the cavern.

   Tonks whistled softly. “Shit…”

   The cavern seemed to be too big to fit beneath Hogwarts, with soaring, cathedral-like walls and vaulted ceilings. Along the edges of the cavern, stalagmites erupted forth and extended like talons, but the path was surprisingly smooth, and Harry could only wonder if the Founders had never intended the place to be found, why the path seemed so smooth…

   He squinted as he peered further – in the distance, it looked as if there was a fissure in the rock wall, and if he looked hard enough, he thought he could see a flicker of greyish light –

   “Professor –”

   “I see it, Harry,” Dumbledore said softly, stepping closer. “The flicker of light looks like flames –”
   “But fire isn’t grey,” Tonks muttered, stepping next to Harry and taking a hold of his hand – but even despite the comforting warmth of her palm, he couldn’t help but feel a damp, clammy chill race down his spine. “Professor, are you –”

   “This is magic of a different time, Miss Tonks,” Dumbledore replied, adjusting his spectacles as he lowered his wand. “Magic of a bygone era, where wonders were wrought with incantations and rituals of power that even I cannot fathom. Magic that may not be as sophisticated as that which we use today, but made up for sophistication with raw, unrestrained power, and a desire to plumb the very boundaries of life and death. Magic that would be deemed Dark or restricted to the Department of Mysteries because it deals with death and what might come after, a mystery where very few of us have dared explore.” Dumbledore’s expression hardened. “It is not hard to understand what drew Tom Riddle to this place.”

   The path was uneven, but passable, and Harry felt his gaze being drawn to the sheer walls of rock rising closer and closer around them, as if it was sculpted by an unseen hand – and the more Harry stared at the stone, the more he felt it. Something was wrong about this cavern – something out of sync with the natural world, with –

   “This is a hall magic formed,” Dumbledore said in a low voice, answering Harry’s question as they trudged closer to the greyish flicker. “Not formed by any natural process, or by any witch or wizard alive today.”

   “Then what could –”

   Tonks’ voice stopped in mid-sentence as she glanced closer at the stone wall surrounding the high-ceilinged narrow corridor they had walked into – for on every inch of the wall there were words, repeating over and over.

  …even armour of finest platinum has a crack / on the walls of pain the spirits wrack / to find the truth the makers lack / our place in hell is missing…

  Harry slowly ran his finger over the rough words carved in the wall. “I… Professor, do you –”

  But Dumbledore did not respond, only pointed upwards, at the path ahead.

  And there he was, his smile smug, insufferable, and unfailingly twisted, his beady eyes alight with merriment and horrible curiosity…

   “Peeves,” Tonks growled.

   The poltergeist didn’t respond to Tonks’ word – he only kept smiling that toothy smile, not moving from his spot high above the path, his eyes knowing and mocking –

   “Enough of this charade.”

   Harry tore his eyes away from Peeves to Dumbledore, and he found himself involuntarily stepping back away from his Headmaster. He had never seen anger like he did on Dumbledore’s face, anger that had gone beyond simple contempt or hatred – no, this was even beyond righteous rage, but the raw fury of a powerful man driven to the limits of patience and the end of control.

   “I have no more patience for games, Peeves,” Dumbledore said in a low, terrifying voice, tightly controlled but threatening all the same, his eyes blazing with raw fury. Harry’s grip on Tonks’ hand involuntarily tightened. “We have had enough. Whatever horrific crimes lie at the center of your origin that drive you to behave like in such a villainous manner are no longer of consequence – leave.”

   Peeves blinked, and for a second, Harry thought the threat had been enough – but the poltergeist did not leave its spot.

   Instead it raised an arm, and pointed into towards the grey flicker.

   “I…” Harry coughed as he tried to summon up his voice. “I don’t think he’s going to stop us, Professor. He never did before.”

   “He is the one piece of this puzzle that continues to elude us all,” Dumbledore said, his voice low and harsh enough to vibrate even the stone around them. “The one piece that doesn’t match up with the rest of the story, the one element that remains elusive –”

   “Well, if he’s not stopping us, he’s kind of irrelevant right now,” Tonks said nervously, her hair going dark as she glanced up at the poltergeist above him. “We need to find Nott, and I get the strange feeling we’re close.”

   Harry took a deep breath. “The corridor doesn’t look much longer. Professor, any spells you know that might help?”

   Dumbledore paused, and then turned to face Harry and Tonks.

  “Declino phasmatis.”

   Immediately, Harry felt a frigid feeling spread through him, as if every inch of his body had been soaked in icy, turgid water.

   “I apologize for this discomfort,” Dumbledore said sombrely, “but it should keep you protected from offensive spiritual attacks. It will not block possession – there is not concrete form of magic that can effectively stand against that – but it will prevent magical attacks from harming your soul if cast by ghosts or poltergeists.”

   “You think that’s likely?”

   “Miss Tonks, I suspect that is the only attack that we will face,” Dumbledore replied grimly. “The more I stand here, the more I suspect it – we are no longer in the world we know. The reality we see here is twisted, only tenuously tied to what we recognize as normal. When the Founders chose to seal away the souls that could harm Hogwarts, they did it in a way that was both ingenious and exceedingly dangerous – a reality out of time with our own.”

   The Headmaster bent, and picked up a loose stone.

   “What do you want to do with that?”

   Dumbledore did not respond to Harry’s question. He let go of the stone.

   And it did not fall.

   “Out of time,” he said. “A kink in the very fabric of reality we know – a magic far beyond what I ever dared to dream.” Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “However, if I am to believe my own eyes, Voldemort somehow managed to parse the magic of this place, to perceive and understand the complex and twisted relations between time and space and death itself – even to the point where he could create magic simple enough to be used by anyone to send articles into the past or future, albeit with a limited scope.” The Headmaster shook his head. “Oh, Tom, what have you done…”

   “The question is not what he did, Professor.”

   All of their wands snapped up towards Peeves, but the poltergeist seemed completely unconcerned – or unaware entirely – that he was being threatened.

   “See, he only tapped the surface,” Peeves hissed, not moving from his spot. “Voldemort skimmed the water of the river, but he didn’t plumb the depths – well, at least not initially. But then again, you already know when he did go swimming, don’t you, Professor?”

   “We don’t have time for your riddles, Peeves,” Dumbledore said harshly, completely ignoring Harry and Tonks’ confused glances at the Headmaster. “If you know something, or if you plan to stop us –”

   The Headmaster’s words were interrupted with laughter – shrill, uneven, unnatural laughter.

   “Oh – oh, Professor, you all can pass,” Peeves cackled, still not moving from his spot. “I’m not going to stop you – after all, the game’s still not over, and I’d love to see you bring things back into place, but there’s nothing here I want. I’m just here because I figured you all want to see that familiar face – you know, that grin that reassures you that you’re on the right path.” Peeves’ smile deepened, and not for the first time, Harry saw something malevolent in the poltergeist’s eyes. “After all, I’ve read my parts of my script, I know when I come in.”

   And without another word, the poltergeist vanished. It was as if Harry had blinked and he was gone – nothing indicated Peeves had ever been there, or was even anything but a figment of their imaginations…

   “We’re getting spooked,” Tonks said, taking a deep breath, her hair going blood-red. “We need to keep going – look, the light’s not that far ahead.”

   They continued down the path, and…

   “Professor, have you ever seen anything like this before?”

   “I wish I could tell you that I have.” Dumbledore’s voice seemed to catch for a moment. “But on the other hand…even seeing it now, I would never have wanted to.”

***

   Even with the protective charms, the heat was worse than anything Lupin could have imagined.

   His head pounded as he staggered across the main floor of the building, where the enchanted presses had once pounded out the Daily Prophet. The presses were gone now, leaving nothing behind but scorched stone and twisted scraps of metal, but Lupin thought he could still smell the chemical odour of oil and ink.

   The Fiendfyre surged and coiled around the cavernous, hellish hall, but there was little left to burn in the epicenter of the spell, and few of the beastly apparitions that composed the flames were visible. But Lupin could still feel the hot pangs of the magic fire, barely contained by the protective magic. It was as if on every inch of his skin he could feel the blistering heat of being only an inch from a burning oven, even with the enchantments.

  It’s as if I’m being cooked alive, Lupin thought numbly. Well, at least until the enchantments run out – then I’ll be burned to cinders… come on, Sirius, where the hell are you –

   The spell came out of nowhere. Lupin ducked instinctively, his eyes tracing the line of attack –

   “Sirius!”

  He gagged on the hot smoke, but he saw Sirius’ eyes widen with recognition. He seemed completely untouched by the flames and smoke, standing inside a magical cylinder (which seemed more defined by the absence of the inferno) which Lupin guessed was a rough protection that the Fiendfyre spell allowed.

   “Get over here!” he heard Sirius shout, waving wildly for his friend to get inside the enchanted circle, his long-fireproofed Triumph motorbike growling next to him.

   He took as deep of a breath as he dared and staggered through the flames, clawing his way to his closest friend, nearly stumbling over a hunk of blackened, withering metal –

   The bracing chill of the night air nearly sent him tumbling backwards. It was as if he had stepped out into a chill, frozen meadow, with not a hint of smoke or ash to taint it. He glanced upwards to only see open sky through a shredded hole in the roof, and while the night was streaked with dark clouds, he thought he could see a glimpse of the moon…

   “I can’t believe it,” Sirius whispered, pulling Lupin to his feet and into a tight embrace. “Merlin damn it all, you came through that hell… how did you –”

   “Cassane,” Lupin gasped, wiping soot from his eyes as he struggled to get his bearings. “He… you talked to him before doing this? He knew?”

   “Enough of it.”

  There was something in Sirius’ voice that Lupin hadn’t heard in a long time. Not since the war. It wasn’t rage – no, he had heard that in the Shrieking Shack two years ago. No, this was something deeper, rawer, anger tinged with grief and something else…

   “Sirius, they know you’re in –”

   “Yeah, I know.”

   “They’ve dropped Anti-Apparition jinxes all over the block,” Lupin said, his voice quickening as he glanced at the hell seething behind him. “You’re not going to be able to Apparate out of here, and odds are, with you controlling the Fiendfyre, you won’t be able to create any Portkeys at the same time.”

   Sirius didn’t answer that comment, only looking out at the fire.

   “You want to know why I did this?”

   Lupin nodded. He knew he should be shouting something, demanding an explanation why the hell Sirius would have dared try something this insane, but that tone in Sirius’ voice said more than words.

   “Do you want to know what Voldemort did to Harry?”

   A new chill rushed down Lupin’s spine that had nothing to do with the night air. “What? Did Voldemort… how –”

   “I can’t explain all the details,” Sirius interrupted, a real edge in his voice this time, “but I don’t need to, and I don’t want to. I listened to my godson break down, say how he lost something that he’ll never be able to get back, something that Voldemort never tried to take from any of us. Hell, I didn’t even think Voldemort was capable of it…” He looked away, staring into the Fiendfyre. “There are lines, Remus, and then there are lines. Voldemort crossed one of the latter ones.”

   Lupin couldn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say – what had Voldemort done?

   “And you know what the worst thing was?” Sirius continued hoarsely, turning back to Lupin. “Even despite every instinct in my gut that was screaming for me to run out and do something, to hold my godson in my arms and tell him it would all be okay, I knew somehow that it wouldn’t be enough. No, that’s not it – no, it’s more like I couldn’t just say ‘it’s all going to be okay’, because that would be a lie.” Sirius’ face contorted in a snarl. “It’s not just going to be ‘okay’. Sometimes, everything goes to hell, and there’s not a damn bit of respite you can give that doesn’t involve the good intentions that pave the road there.

   “So I stayed back in the shadows, knowing that I had to make sure the rest of the world didn’t find out about what Voldemort did.” Sirius’ voice was suddenly guttural, almost savage. “I knew that somehow, I was going to be the one to make sure the truth never saw the light of day – and if that meant consigning this shithole and Cuffe to the hell they belong in, so be it. Harry might be forced to live with this hell, but that’s not something everyone else has to know about. And that was Voldemort’s plan all along – that’s why he got a hold on Cuffe in the first place. He planned this.” He snorted. “Well, not this.”

   “Sirius,” Lupin said in a low voice, “you’re not going to get away from this one. They’ve got a full strike force surrounding this place, and while there are no Dementors… Sirius, the only way you’ve got a hope in hell of surviving the next few hours is if you come quietly. Cassane will make sure you get a fair trial –”

  It came out of nowhere, dropping out of the black sky above them. Lupin dove backwards towards the motorbike as Sirius’ wand shot up, spraying curses –

   Curses that either went wide or were deflected, as the cloaked and hooded figure tore up Shield Charm after Shield Charm with a desperate intensity that stunned Lupin – Sirius was an incredible duellist, who was this guy –

   “He’s not getting a fair trial.”

   Lupin drew his own wand, even as his mind raced to identify the muffled voice against the roar of the flames, he knew it sounded familiar –

   Sirius’ eyes blazed with hatred. “You’ll never take me alive.”

   “I don’t need either of you alive,” the figure snarled, and ripped back his hood. Lupin recognized the man immediately – even though he had never seen the man before, Harry’s description had been unmistakable.

   “Then what do you want?” Sirius snarled.

   “Simple,” Kemester hissed. “Answers.”

***

   It was unlike anything Harry had ever imagined.

   The new chamber was larger than the castle above them. The lights streaking from the tip of Dumbledore’s wand could barely be seen from the apex of the cavern. And even despite the light – a grey, formless light that seemed to come from nowhere at all – the chamber seemed impossibly black.

   But that wasn’t what drew Harry’s awestruck gaze, or Tonks’ murmured oath. He almost stepped forward – only for Dumbledore’s hand to grasp his shoulder very tightly.

   “Careful, Harry.”

   Harry glanced down, and immediately regretted it – because outside of a tiny arch spanning the room, barely half a meter wide, there was no floor in this chamber. It was a chasm, and Harry had the chilling feeling that it was somehow bottomless and inescapable.

   But even that wasn’t enough to draw his awe. Even despite the impossible dimensions of the hall, the cryptic warnings etched into the wall… nothing had been like this.

   It was a sphere of stone, and Harry guessed it was about fifty meters wide. It hung suspended over the void, slowly rotating with a coarse, slow ticking like the tiniest movement of the largest clock on the planet. It was only connected to the rest of the cavern via the slim, unsupported arc – a bridge over nothingness. The sphere itself was a glossy black, simultaneously reflecting and absorbing every light in the chamber, but somehow the gloss looked liquid, almost as if the sphere was drenched in oil. And all across the rock were silvery metal spines, spraying out of the black stone at random like the prongs of a snowflake. But unlike the stone, they were dull, not reflecting any light whatsoever.

   “Professor,” Harry asked anxiously, “I think it’s fair to say this is something… this is something that the Founders couldn’t have –”

   “From everything we know about Godric, Helga, Rowena, and Salazar, I would agree,” Dumbledore replied, his tone sombre, but Harry could hear some wonder and curiosity creeping in. “In fact, I would suspect that this place was not shaped by them at all, but rather by something beyond our time entirely. When reaching beyond death, Harry, time is both quintessential, and yet insignificant. What is crafted here is both linked to our time and yet outside of it. I suspect that all the Founders may have done – indeed, all they may have needed to do – is reach here and extend their will – and then the mechanism created itself – outside of what we consider time.”

   “So without any passage of time, there’s been no decay, and thus, no dust,” Tonks concluded. “And I’m guessing Nott’s inside that sphere.” Her eyes narrowed. “Probably wherever that control mechanism you were describing is, Harry.”

   “Hold a moment,” Dumbledore said, raising a finger, “for I suspect...” Without warning, the old wizard bent and examined the foot of the stone arc. “Ah. That is unfortunate.”

   “What now?”

   “It’s an old language, centuries old,” Dumbledore said thoughtfully, “and while it is crude, the meaning is unmistakable – those who are not linked to the sphere cannot enter it.”

   “What?” Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “So you’re saying… you’re saying we came down here for nothing?”

   “Not at all,” Dumbledore replied calmly, “because you can enter the sphere.”

   “But I’m not…” Harry’s voice trailed off. “Wait… you’re thinking because of the simulamancy, I can get in?”

   “Yes,” Dumbledore replied simply.

   “And we’re just going to, what, stand back here?” Tonks demanded angrily. “We did not get this far just to send Harry in alone –”

   “Agreed,” Dumbledore said, a small smile crossing his face, “which is why you and I, Miss Tonks, will be working to provide whatever aid to Harry that we can – and work to cover our escape, for I suspect when Nott is subdued, the magic he is utilizing will break.” His eyes hardened. “We may be facing an onslaught of spirits – and here, there are no controls or bonds upon them. Inside the sphere their presence may be blocked, but I suspect the conflict will grow much larger.”

   “So you’re telling me instead of facing some pissant of a Slytherin, we could be facing a horde of hostile ghosts?” Tonks asked, her expression faltering slightly.

   “I believe so.”

   Tonks glanced at Harry. “Want to switch?”

   Harry couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at that, and he regretted it as soon as he did – the sound felt incredibly out-of-place in the otherworldly cavern. Instead, he simply pulled her into a quiet embrace.

   “I love you,” he whispered.

   He felt Tonks stiffen momentarily, but then she sighed. “Yeah… yeah, I know.”

   “Okay,” Harry breathed, breaking the embrace and looking at Dumbledore. “Good luck, Professor –”

   “Hold just a moment, Harry,” Dumbledore said, and his eyes unexpectedly twinkled. “Did you think that I would let you enter that chamber completely unprotected? I might know an enchantment or two that might aid you in your duel.”

   Harry’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

   “Deadly serious,” Dumbledore replied, raising his wand. “Harry, you are a very special young man, and it would be highly irresponsible of me to not grant you every protection I can muster.”

   Harry suddenly froze – he could have sworn he heard someone laugh…

   “What is it, Harry?”

   He shook his head. “I could have sworn – never mind.”

***

   “Give a reason,” Sirius growled, raising his wand and pointing it directly at Kemester. “I can kill him right now and still control the Fiendfyre, and after everything he’s done –”

   “I’d deserve it,” Kemester replied, side-stepping away from Sirius and closer to the edge of the circle of flame around them. “But at this point… you have answers, Black.”

   “I don’t – what the fuck do you want, Kemester? I’m an innocent man! Why would I betray my closest friends –”

   Kemester spat on the stone, his face twisting with utter disdain. “Does this look ‘innocent’ to you? You killed Cuffe – and according to Skeeter, he was one of the two that attacked her at Bonaccord Hall. A convenient way to cover your tracks.”

   “I killed Cuffe,” Sirius said through gritted teeth, and Lupin could tell that there was real sweat coursing down his friend’s face, “because he was going to take actions that would ruin my godson’s life.” His face contorted into a snarl. “You know, the godson you beat into a pulp!”

   “And he nearly killed me in response,” Kemester spat, “so I’d call us even. But why the protective streak – on the road you tried to kill him –”

   “I was possessed, you imbecile!” Sirius roared. “Your lackey saw me save his life from your lot days earlier – do you honestly think I’d try to kill him?”

   Kemester’s eyes snapped to Lupin. “You buy this, werewolf?”

   Lupin coughed as he stood straighter - in his gut, he knew the words he would speak would ultimately decide his fate, likely for worse.

   “I do,” he said, his voice barely audible above the roar of the flames. “He’s telling the truth, and… and although I don’t think everything he’s done is right –”

   “Remus –”

   “ – He’s on our side,” Lupin finished, ignoring Sirius. “But what about you? The traitor… it was Reed Larshall, wasn’t it? Your partner?”

   A muscle in Kemester’s scarred face twitched. “Yeah… yeah, it was him, but I want his handler. The one who was really responsible for all of the leaks and attacks –”

   “And, what, you think that was me?” Sirius asked incredulously. “I stand against Voldemort, not for him! I’m on your side – I just don’t play by your rules.”

   “My rules are the law!”

   “Yeah,” Sirius retorted with a sneer, “and how did that work out for you, or your brother, or your father –”

   The flurry of curses streaked at Sirius, and Lupin reflexively ducked, but Sirius parried all of them effortlessly.

   “You can’t beat me, Kemester!” Sirius yelled, twirling his wand as he stepped a little closer. “Those rumours from fourteen years ago about me being Voldemort’s right-hand man wouldn’t have been started without a grain of truth! And you knew you weren’t going to get anything from me you don’t already know – so why are you here? Trying for one last scrap of glory, bring me in to salvage your name and reputation, or whatever’s left of it?”

   “In a world where evil uses words and good uses Fiendfyre,” the scarred Hit Wizard snarled, “anything and everything is possible, as much as we might not want it.”

   There was something strange, something familiar, in Kemester’s voice that sent a chill down Lupin’s spine. The man knows coming here, diving in through the roof… he knows it was suicidal. He knows that he’s not going to get anything out of Sirius – hell, he knows he’s outclassed by Sirius – then why did he…

   He understood, even as Kemester lowered his wand.

   “Sirius,” Lupin began slowly, “he’s not going to kill us. He can’t.”

   “How do you know?” Kemester spat.

   “Because I recognize that tone in your voice,” Lupin replied sadly, fighting back the catch in his throat, “and I’ve been there.”

   The Hit Wizard was silent.

   “And you thought if you came here, on your own – because the Aurors and Hit Wizards outside don’t know you’re here, I’m guessing – you could get what you wanted,” Lupin continued, ignoring Sirius’ startled expression and focusing on the hard, emotionless façade Kemester was maintaining. “And if I wasn’t here… it would have been easy. Sirius wouldn’t have hesitated.”

   “Too true,” Sirius growled. “Give me one reason and I’ll do it right now – this bastard deserves it –”

   “Is that what Harry would have wanted?” Lupin demanded.

   Sirius paused for a few seconds, and then nodded decisively. “Yeah, fairly certain.”

   Lupin shook his head. “No… no, that’s not how it’ll be.  Harry can’t… no, he can’t be tied to this. His life is bad enough as it is.” He took a long, deep breath. “Sirius, we need to leave.”

   Sirius looked at Lupin with scepticism, and then concern. “But Harry –”

   “Right now, we make things complicated,” Lupin replied sharply. “Harry doesn’t need that – no, he can’t know this is what we did – at least not now.” He glanced at Kemester. “And you… I’m not about to fulfil your death wish. I’ve been where you were… and taking the coward’s way out is never the answer.” He shook his head. “I should have learned that long ago. Come on, Sirius.”

   “I should stop you,” Kemester said, his voice both toneless and embittered. “You’re both fugitives –”

   “Then try,” Lupin replied grimly, “and you’ll die, and you’ll just be one more body on the pile. No moments of glory, no questions, not even much concern – you’ll be a footnote, instead of a hero.”

  Sirius snorted as he climbed up onto his motorbike, his wand still angled at the Hit Wizard. “He’s no hero, Remus.”

   “No,” Kemester said, barely audible over the roar of the motorbike’s engine. “I’m just… I’m just the man looking for the truth.”

   Sirius shook his head with disgust as Lupin climbed onto the bike. “Oh yeah? And what did you find?”

   “The law, and the fire and blood that surrounds it,” Kemester replied, as the Triumph roared. “In short… nothing of substance.”

***

   The stone arch wasn’t slick – in fact, it was quite easy to balance upon, with the long Ectoplasmic Projector in one hand to balance with – but Harry couldn’t help but feel a tremor in his gut every time his nerves got the best of him and he happened to glance down into the blackness on either side. There was something wrong about that darkness – something that not even the protective enchantments Dumbledore had provided would be able to stave off.

   He hastily shook his head and looked at the sphere looming ahead of him. Despite its rotation, the arch still connected to a single door into the sphere. In fact, it seemed that while the sphere still rotated, the door didn’t move.

   “Focus, Harry,” he heard Dumbledore’s voice echo out over the void around him. “No spirits have arrived, there is nothing stopping you from entering.”

   Harry took a deep breath as he stepped a little closer. The open door was within reach now, and he braced himself for impact –

   Nothing happened. The stone door slid open at the touch of his fingers, and he heard Tonks give a whoop of triumph. Even in the blackness of the cave, that buoyed his spirits.

   Now to just beat one pissant of a Slytherin…

   He climbed the obsidian stairs, his eyes taking in everything he saw. The thin white light from the tip of his wand illuminated his distorted reflection in the murky, glossy walls, and he focused on the light up ahead, a light that seemed of many colours and of none all the same time…

   He reached the top of the stairs, the widest part of the sphere, and looked into a chamber he had only seen in visions that he’d classify as nightmares.

   The floor was glossy and black like the rest of the chamber, but this time there was light everywhere, cascading off of spindles of metal embedded in the ceiling and walls. Harry was abruptly reminded of a picture he had seen in primary school of the Northern Lights, but where all the clouds and mist was sucked away, leaving only stars and waves of energy behind.

   In the center of the room was a dais of a greyish-black material Harry didn’t quite recognize, and on the dais was a strangely rusted and tarnished podium, with exposed cogs, wire, and chipped, glowing gemstones – and on the podium, about five feet across, was Hogwarts.

   Harry couldn’t help but be astonished. Illuminated brilliantly from every angle was a scale model of the entire castle and its grounds, sculpted with such intricate detail that Harry only wondered who could have crafted it. It didn’t look like any material he was familiar with – in fact, the more he looked at it, the model seemed to blur and flicker, as if it wasn’t quite solid…

   “Potter.”

   The voice was filled with raw hatred, and Harry’s wand immediately snapped up as a hooded figure stepped out from behind the dais. He hadn’t been visible behind the model of Hogwarts, but now Harry could see him. He could see every detail of the young man’s wasted face and hollowed eyes, his stringy hair and pallid complexion, his dirty robes and his insane smile. The Slytherin patch on his robes was only barely visible beneath crusted blood and filth.

   “Nott,” Harry growled, the anger boiling up his gut. The tiniest fraction of his mind felt pity for what had happened to the Slytherin, but Harry shoved that back – this bastard, this creature had enabled Sirius’ possession, had attacked Cho and Luna and Colin and Ernie and Su…

   And me. No, you’re getting mercy, Theodore.

   “I’m going to give you one chance,” he said aloud, his voice echoing across the chamber. “Dumbledore’s waiting outside, and while he’s just as furious as I am, you might get mercy. He’ll protect you from everyone looking to rip you apart, like Moody and McGonagall and every other student in the school.” Harry’s eyes hardened. “Including me.”

   “Have you ever stared into the face of Death, Harry Potter?” Nott whispered, his eyes glinting merrily as he lit his wand, casting the twisted lines of his face into an even more grotesque light. “Looked into his hollow, glowing eyes and asked him his name? Asked those behind him what they would give to quench their thirst for some grand conclusion to their tale?”

   “You brought back spirits that were kept away from Hogwarts for damn good reason!” Harry snarled. “They were gone, we didn’t need this!”

   “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, Potter,” Nott whispered, “because this – this device the Founders built a millennia ago, built by enslaving Death – this was keeping them from going on. Some wanted to stay behind, yes, yes, but others just wanted to pass – to go down that road beyond all time and space and life itself.” Nott shook his head. “I’m not like the Dark Lord, Potter, I do not fear Death, because I have stared into his eyes and asked him his name, promising that I will free him from these bonds.”

   The insane smile on Nott’s face deepened. “And by weaving your little web over the school, simulamancer, you’re going to bring all of Hogwarts with me when we dive into the timeless eternal instant that Death offers.”

   “Voldemort doesn’t want you to destroy Hogwarts –”

   His statement was cut off by Nott’s shrill, uneven laughter.

   “Do you… do you think I care?” the Slytherin shrieked with an insane giggle. “The man doesn’t understand the glory and majesty that comes after – he seeks to prolong this because that’s all he knows and can possibly understand! He hasn’t seen the moment beyond the passing, he’s only felt the lingering agony of a half-life, one he would prefer than the presence of being beyond such paltry concerns of age and dimension!” Nott’s expression darkened. “And he’s not the only one – there are others who sin far, far greater.”

   “What, me?” Harry spat. “Because I use simulamancy –”

   “There were only two copies of ‘The Book of Inversion and Duplex’,” Nott hissed. “You idiot – you haven’t seen it yet, even though everything has been given away, every scrap of information dangling in front of your face, the one who would steal from Death…”

   But the Slytherin’s snarl vanished, his eyes suddenly alight. “But that doesn’t matter, because you’re not getting out of here alive to deal with it – I’ve taken this school to the precipice of eternity, and all it needs is a little push.”

   Without warning, Nott slammed a hand on the dais. Suddenly, the cogs and loose wire began spinning with a shriek of agonized metal. The chipped gemstones ignited with an internal fire. From inside the mechanism, levers extended from the edge, right below the model of Hogwarts.

   Nine levers – three bronze, two gold, two silver, two ebony – arranged in a upward spiral around Hogwarts. Seven levers had been pulled, five so violently pulled that Harry could see shattered gears and twisted metal at their connection. Two levers remained – one silver, one bronze.

   Sparks suddenly sprayed the room from both the podium and the spindles of metal around the room, and Harry threw a hand over his face. Everywhere the sparks landed, hot, multi-coloured fires erupted, burning even on the stone.

   But wherever they touched him, they fizzled away into nothingness. Dumbledore’s enchantments had worked their magic.

   And suddenly, Harry knew the words he had to say. There was no feeling of déjà vu now – no, it was certainty. He had been here before, he had said the words before, and he suddenly understood why he saw visions whenever he used simulamancy – he was stepping through Death’s timeless sphere, but since he already knew his past, all Death could show him was his future.

   A future in which he won. In which Nott couldn’t stop him.

   He lowered his arm and dropped into a fighting stance. “Not nearly enough,” he called out, letting a confident smile dawn on his face. Strangely, he couldn’t taste blood in his mouth. I could have sworn… it doesn’t matter, there have been little differences before. “What else you got?”

   Nott’s eyes flashed, and the Slytherin raised his own wand. The tip of the wand flashed before the matte black whip erupted forth, somehow visible against the black walls…

   “Ooh,” Harry remarked, cocking an eyebrow. “Kinky.”

   The whip cracked, erupting in liquid-blue fire, dripping tendrils of liquid flame onto the floor, and for a second Harry could now see the crusted bloodstains –

   And then the sphere shook.

   Harry was off-balance for a fraction of a second, but he quickly planted his feet as Nott took a firm hold of the podium to hold his balance. A few of the bloodstains on the floor had caught fire now, adding flickers of hot blue light around the chamber to the discordant stream of colours.

   “Your little stronghold doesn’t seem so strong,” Harry shouted, keeping an eye on the flaming whip as he began to circle the podium to get a clear shot at Nott. “Guess Voldemort didn’t teach you enough tricks to keep this thing stable –”

   “I don’t need his tricks,” Nott replied, his eyes utterly mad as his smile deepened. “I don’t need his luck, or his skill, or anything. You and your friends, on the other hand… ah, they’re going to need everything they can get.”

   And raising a hand that was suddenly soaked in blood, Nott grabbed the last silver lever on the podium and pulled.

***

   Dumbledore had heard the tremor erupt across the sphere, and he immediately angled his wand, prepared for whatever he might see –

   “That thing could collapse at any second, Professor,” Tonks said anxiously, giving her wand an experimental twist as he steadied the Ectoplasmic Harpoon. “I think, even if we don’t use the bridge, Harry could be – fuck, what the –”

   Dumbledore saw it too. Suddenly, the greyish light that seemed to come from nowhere in the chamber had intensified – and it had a source.

   For around the sphere, things began to appear. Translucent, hovering over the emptiness, their eyes milky white and glowing softly as they coalesced.

   Every set of eyes focused on them, and he could hear Tonks take an involuntary step backwards. And even despite the dozens of spells that leapt to the front of his mind, he couldn’t help but feel a moment of unease.

   He hadn’t expected this many.

   “The ghosts of all who have died badly at Hogwarts,” he whispered, and even above the growing din of incoherent murmurs from the spirits, he knew Tonks could hear him. “Nott only skimmed the surface…”

   All at once, the pupil-less eyes of the ghosts narrowed, fixing on them both. He could hear Tonks’ breathing hitch with fear, and he couldn’t blame her – souls of students, teachers, and everything in between, known and unknown, for Hogwarts: A History had always been poor in recording the deaths and disappearances throughout the centuries.

   “Miss Tonks,” he began slowly, “please hand me the Ectoplasmic Harpoon.”

   She slowly handed him the staff, her hands trembling as the temperature in the chamber plummeted as the spirits began to manifest more fully.

   “Thank you,” Dumbledore said softly. “Now, I want you to turn around, and run.”

   “Professor, Harry is –”

   “In far less danger than the two of us,” he interrupted, the mass of spectres only growing thicker and higher in front of him, raw hatred of the living in their eyes. “I may be able to buy you some time – only one is required to defend the corridor.” He turned and looked at Tonks, her hair now matte black, her face only a few shades away from the spirits. “I will follow if I can, but Minerva and Alastor must be prepared.”

   Tonks blinked rapidly, her eyes growing damp. “I… Professor, I can –”

   “I knew the risks when I took this job, Miss Tonks,” Dumbledore replied kindly, tapping the Ectoplasmic Harpoon with his wand. Immediately, the spear ignited with white-hot light, sizzling as Dumbledore gave it an experimental swing. “And I cannot see any nobler death than dying for my school. Now run, please.”

   He didn’t turn to see Tonks sprint away – he focused only on the horde of spirits hovering over the void. All of their eyes were now on him – only on him.

   Dumbledore only adjusted his spectacles with the edge of his wand, and with a thought, a corona of silver light erupted around him, looking like nothing less than a haze of shooting stars.

   His wand and the harpoon blazed with magic, every colour gleaming more brightly as he extended his wand – a challenge. He pointed not at any spirit in particular, but at the floating sphere rotating slowly over the pit, where sparks were spraying from the dulled metal prongs.

   “It seems almost cliché,” he said aloud, “and my robes are not grey, but I feel at this point, the words are most apt indeed… and while I feel… unworthy to appropriate them, and I have no illusions that they mean anything to you…” Dumbledore allowed himself the barest hint of a smile. “Yes, it is right.”

   The spirits rose up, their incoherent murmurs blending together into a roar of agonized souls, and Dumbledore’s blue eyes blazed with righteous fire.

   “I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, and you shall not pass.”

***

   Immediately, he knew he had made a horrible mistake.

   The lever slipped from nerveless hands as he felt a rush of numbness, as if every inch of his body had been submerged in frigid water – but there was something wrong with this numbness, it wasn’t cold, it was –

   Well, I didn’t expect this… but I’ll make do.

   The voice, echoing and utterly unrecognizable, was in his head..

   The voice was in his head.

   He struggled to draw breath, pull any air past his lips – but he couldn’t. His chest quivered as he tried to inhale – but every muscle was numb.

   He was drowning in air.

   It wasn’t supposed to –

   I cannot possess him, the voice interrupted, and despite the numbness, the voice began to gain distinction and character. It was still too low, he couldn’t discern the gender, but the part of his mind that wasn’t screaming at him had recognized the pattern – and was terrified.

   I cannot possess him, he protects himself with his cursed practice, the voice spat, which means it’s just you and me – and since you are a Slytherin, it’s an easy choice.

   He felt some of the numbness fade, and immediately he sucked down a breath – and immediately felt himself sprawling against the cold stone floor, his nose bleeding freely from the curse to his face.

   Well, it’s clear he’s not waiting, the voice said with a sniff, but no matter, I’ll deal with him the old-fashioned way. You, though… well, this body is not to my liking.

   The numbness faded instantly, and the remaining pieces of Nott’s rational mind abruptly coalesced with horror.

   And I think, the voice added, with a sultry edge as if she was speaking seductively straight into his ear, that you’ll find the change rather… interesting.

***

   Harry kept his guard up as Nott began to thrash on the floor, his voice strangled as he began to shriek with pain. His back arched, his legs thrashed, his wand nearly slipped from his contorting fingers…

   “I should end this now,” Harry said in a low voice, giving his wand a small twirl as he stepped closer. “But he’s unarmed –”

   And since when have you cared? his mind retorted. After what he did to Hogwarts, what he did to you, the best thing he deserves is a quick, merciful death.

   Harry gritted his teeth and summoned all of his rage and hatred to the front of his mind – and it wasn’t hard.

   “Avada –”

   The air was blasted out of his lungs as he sprawled backwards, skidding across the slick stone floor. His wand didn’t slip from his fingers – Dumbledore had given him a charm that kept the contact between his hand and his wand rather sticky – but it took him a few seconds to get back on his feet –

   And what he saw was the stuff of nightmares.

   Nott was suspended in the air, held up by invisible meat hooks, his limbs nerveless and uncontrolled as waves of magic washed over him. His wand, which was somehow still in his hand, seemed to still be moving of its own accord, dragging Nott’s arm along with every motion in a grotesque dance.

   But as unnerving as that was, it wasn’t that which disturbed Harry. He couldn’t take his eyes away as Nott’s arms and legs seemed to thrash at random, twisting and contorting in ways muscles don’t allow – but then again, it looked as though the muscles were sloughing away inside the skin, skin that seemed to tighten and twist into a new shape. It was as if Nott was a corpse suspended in the air, drinking the worst batch of Polyjuice Potion ever brewed.

   His robes changed too, the filth and dirt vanishing as the cloth seemed to twist and tighten into a new shape, emphasizing curves and assets that the Slytherin boy didn’t possess – and from the look of horror in his eyes, that he never wanted to possess…

   Harry took a deep breath. “Flamma lacero!”

   The arc of fire, superheated to blue-white by an enchantment Dumbledore had provided, vanished an instant before it made contact. Harry squinted, trying to look past the transformation – it looked as if the spell had been blinked out of existence, leaving only a faint outline of blue sparks –

   “No… no no no, NO!”

   Nott yanked his head back as if somebody had grabbed the back of his hair – hair was softening, lengthening, twisting into an intricate knot as the muscles on his face warped and twisted –

   “Fuck… atrum chain levitas!” Harry shouted, thrusting his wand outwards.

   Lightning erupted forth – only to vanish into outlines of blue sparks an instant later.

   “AVADA KE –”

   The spell came out of nowhere, connecting right under his chin. He felt his feet leave the floor as he slammed hard against the ground, his teeth vibrating with the impact –

   “That… was rude.”

   Harry blinked rapidly as he shot upwards, his wand already rising for another curse as he saw the transformation continue. He saw the face, a blend of Nott’s features with something feminine and coldly striking. He saw budding nubs of flesh begin to swell on Nott’s chest, his robes expanding to reflect the transformation…

   But even despite the change in front of him, his mind was somewhere else. I know that voice… I remember hearing it before… the tower…

   Immediately, his mind jumped to a spell he knew had worked before.

   “Mens fragor, mens fragor!”

   The blue orbs erupted from his wand – and immediately vanished. Harry’s righteous shout died in his throat.

   The figure now standing before him only had the barest shadow of Nott in his – no, her – appearance. Hair that had once been matted and filthy was now sleek and pulled back into a tightly coiled braid, tied with a silver ribbon. Robes that had been covered with vomit and blood were now a spotless dress that seemed to shimmer with magic, yet drew attention to all the right places. Even the blood on her hands was gone.

   Only in her large, dark eyes was there a shadow of Nott’s madness and hatred, otherwise completely unseen behind striking features and a beauty that seemed lethal as it was sensual.

   And I don’t feel attracted to her in the slightest, Harry suddenly realized, his eyes brightening. There’s no warmth, there’s nothing real there – with Tonks, there’s something there, there’s something real, something magical –

   “Oh, there’s something magical all right.”

   The voice didn’t match her appearance. It was a blend of a woman’s with Nott’s, as if two people were speaking at the same time over each other – and both voices were in Parseltongue.

   Harry’s wand snapped up. “You can’t read my mind –”

   The woman gave a sniff. “I see what’s on the surface – although it’s very clear you don’t. If you only had that insight… ah, you’d be that perfect weapon that the Headmaster so desires.” Her wand rose. “Instead you’re the imperfect weapon, the notched sword, the bent wand. Such things are only needed for scrap.” A cruel smile grew across her face. “And here I thought you had a chance to learn something before we fought again.”

   And then he got it, and white-hot rage surged through him.

   “You were the Slytherin ghost that possessed Luna –”

   “I told you I’d see you in Hell,” the woman replied smoothly, effortlessly switching between Parseltongue and English and back again, giving the wand a little twirl as she stepped forward. “But then again, imperfect blades don’t get to the bottom of the Pit – they end up broken on the precipice. And that takes us here. And unlike you, I’ve been down and back, sought to defeat Death as my heritage requires I rise to do.” Her eyes narrowed. “And all I need to do is crush the insect in front of me to reclaim my position.”

   It was as if Reality had returned, and slapped him in the face.

   Here I am, Harry thought, his gut shrivelling with sudden fear, up against a witch who’s probably way out of my depth – at least from the way she’s talking she is – and I still have no idea how to stop that damned mechanism that keeps freeing the spirits –

   He glanced at the Hogwarts model as his mind raced – it had something to do with that podium, he needed to do something to it –

   He only barely saw it coming, and he dove to the side – even as a giant, glowing boot made of energy streaked down and smashed into the rock, only inches away from where he was.

   “I crush insects,” the witch hissed, “but I suppose fire works just as well. Abyssus incendia!”

   It erupted like a torrent out of her wand, dragons and serpents of living fire streaking towards him. Harry dove to the side again as the inferno slammed against the stone, but he could see it racing back towards him, even as he was scrabbling across the floor –

   Got you.

   Without warning, he wasn’t on the floor anymore – the front of his robes was in her hand, and they were on the dais, only feet away from the inferno that was sweeping around the room, surrounding them all in a cyclone of fire.

   Harry instinctively swung the Ectoplasmic Projector, but she easily dodged it, sketching a magical symbol in the air that blazed with hot blue flame –

   There was nowhere left to run – the dais was only a few meters wide, and all around him was fire and the spell was already streaking towards him –

   “PARIETIS!”

   The invisible wall of force erupted into being, stopping the flaming symbol inches from Harry’s face and reflecting it backwards into the inferno around them.

   The inferno abruptly turned blue-white, and Harry blinked back tears at the sudden burst of light as he tried to take aim at the blurry shadow that was sweeping closer, her gown now blazing with magic –

   His curse went wide again, and suddenly, her wand was up, and there was no time to block –

   CRACK.

   This time, it wasn’t just lines of tarnished silver and gold washing over his eyes – now he could see faint black lines criss-crossing everything as the witch stepped back, a foul expression on her face.

   “So you took another simulacrum,” she snarled over the roar of the fire around them. “Daring indeed, simulamancer, but the wonderful thing about that instant of death that goes on forever is that it gives you a lot of time to think – and considering how tied I am to this, it wasn’t hard for me to figure out how I can sever the connection.”

   Harry’s eyes widened, and his wand immediately shot up. What is she –

   “Simulamancy, after all,” the witch continued, an evil smile spreading on her face, “is linked to the gender divide – the vast dichotomy that creates an essential extenuating condition – so what happens if I change that?”

    Harry tried to deflect it, but she was too fast. The spell hit him in the chest.

***

   He was standing on the barren, mottled-grey wasteland again, facing the wall that merged with the sky, the black iron door.

   Su Li was there, her naked torso and head embedded in the metal, but it was different this time. This time around her shoulders and waist, there was cracks in the iron.

   Her face was impassive, but her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

   Harry laboured to breathe. “Why… why am I here –”

   Su’s eyes flashed with supreme disdain – she wasn’t going to tell him anything, even as pain began racing up all of his nerves –

   “Okay,” Harry gasped, dropping to his knees even as his legs buckled. He felt his center of gravity shift violently, but he recognized the feeling – he had been in his simulacrums before, he knew what was happening. “She… she’s trying to transform me, but why am I –”

   There was the splintering of metal, and Harry could see something twitch behind Su’s shoulder – as if there was an arm behind it, that hadn’t been torn away…

    And then he understood. “She’s… she’s trying to transform me into… and since there’s a connection between us, it’s ultimately going to be…”

   His voice trailed off. “But the simulamancy will break when it happens,” he whispered, and he could already hear his voice becoming more feminine as he watched his body warp, the pain strangely muting. “The dichotomy –”

   The iron holding the other shoulder cracked. Her expression did not change as she bent at the waist, her arms sliding free from sockets behind her back that Harry hadn’t noticed….

   He felt lumps growing on his chest, and long hair dropping over his face, which he knew was changing. His glasses shattered as they fell to the ground. He tried to breathe, to say something, but his jaw felt stiff, as if it was locked in place, his lips sealing shut even as an icy voice erupted inside his head –

  - let’s see how YOU like it-

   Her legs burst free, and Harry couldn’t scream as his muscles went limp abruptly, some force dragging him like a broken doll towards the wall, shoving him against the iron, his robes evaporating into grey mist, exposing pale breasts –

   -lessons need to be learned. you will PAY for your crime above crimes. this will allow the balance to be maintained. i can and will stop her, but only if YOU STAY HERE –

   He tried to scream, to say something, but it was as if he didn’t have lips on his face. He felt his arms and legs wrench back, sliding into the iron that chewed away on deadened nerves and flesh…

   -but here’s the catch. she’s freed me, and i am fully aware you have hooks in me as well. things will go back to as they were when i end it, and wisdom will come with you leaving me ALONE. but when you realize the truth that you have ignored, you will set her free. you will set her free. YOU WILL SET HER FREE. i do not care if you accept the devil’s deal, but YOU WILL SET HER FREE-

   Harry couldn’t speak, but even as the iron dragged his torso and head against the wall, he managed a nod. Su seemed satisfied with that.

  -enjoy the silence.

***

   Her eyes opened.

   Immediately, she could feel the heat of the blue flames circling around them, but she ignored it. She ignored the triumphant shriek of the witch, who was already shouting another curse, one that would seize her mind –

   But she was already moving. Her muscles brimming with enchanted strength from the Headmaster’s charms, she pounced upwards onto the podium, crouching over the ‘model’ of the castle. Her lank black hair cast a long, forbidding shadow even as she slid her wand back as her hand drifted along the side of the podium, searching for it –

   “What are you –”

   She saw the sudden moment of fear in the other witch’s eyes, but she didn’t care. She raised the Ectoplasmic Projector above the glimmering Astronomy Tower and thrust downwards.

   Immediately she could hear the rumble of shattering stones far above her that sounded like nothing more than the spear of a god piercing the school, but that was only a piece. She needed one last step… one last moment.

   The cycle is complete.

   Her fingers found the last bronze lever.

   When she pulled it, it snapped.

  Everything went white.

***

   In the cavern outside of the sphere, every spirit let out a howl that caused thin rivulets of blood to trickle from Dumbledore’s ears – a howl only lasting for an instant.

   Every prong of metal on the sphere exploded into sparks – and when the blinding light had vanished a few seconds later, the spirits were gone.

   The sphere hovering over the pit groaned, its slow spin grinding to a halt. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Dumbledore could hear the breaking of stone –

   His wand snapped out. “WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!”

   Immediately he could feel the strain as he struggled to suspend the massive black sphere as the arch crumbled away beneath it, but even with his magic enhanced, he knew he couldn’t hold it for long – but he needed to get Harry out of there, and he was out of options –

   “Fawkes!”

   He heard the trill of phoenix song, and his heart leapt in his chest as he saw Fawkes soar above him with a flash of fire and red-gold plumage. His will hardened, and he redoubled his efforts to keep the sphere aloft even as the phoenix tried to sink her claws into the orb of stone –

   Her claws found no purchase on the stone, and immediately Dumbledore’s hope began to fade, but he wasn’t about to give up now…

   He could feel sweat stinging his eyes as his mind raced – there was one more option, a spell he had only seen Tom cast non-verbally, but perhaps he could do it, if he moved fast enough –

   “Fawkes, to me!”

   The phoenix soared close, and even Dumbledore grasped the plumage, he felt his feet leave the ground. He didn’t know the words of Tom’s incantation, but he knew what it did, and with the wand in his hand… it should be enough.

   He extended his wand as Fawkes flew about ten meters beneath the shuddering sphere, his levitation spell barely holding. But he wouldn’t need to hold it for much longer.

   And then he would have just over a second. Just over a second.

   He caught the phoenix’s eye, and somehow he knew Fawkes understood.

   “Fawkes… now.”

   He dropped the levitation spell and immediately poured all of his intent into his wand, trusting that somehow the wand would understand his desperate plea. Even behind his glasses, tears filled his eyes as Fawkes rocketed through the air, just beneath the speed of sound as the sphere began to plummet…

   CRACK.

   The hole in space was open, and the sphere fell through.

***

   The Astronomy Tower had been split apart, and had been crashing down, masonry and stonework tumbling towards the ceilings of the rest of the castle –

   But then it stopped.

   A blink later, the Tower had been restored.

   But somehow, every boulder and shard of stone and shingle and wood remained broken. Driven outside of the tower by the instant of repair, they hung like a cloud of debris around the tower, never to fall.

***

   A kaleidoscope of colours cascaded over Hogwarts again, driven by flickering, silvery lines. But this time, every single thread turning a burning blue-white, driving every colour to searing vibrancy, as if every instant of the sun’s light lost in the emptiness of the time sink was finally shining forth…

   The blast that came a few seconds later levelled every sapling fifty meters around the school, broke several windows in Honeydukes, and shattered every bottle of liquor in Hogsmeade.

***

   In a ruined shack a few miles away from a deserted, stately manor, a golden box hidden behind an arsenal of enchantments exploded with white-hot light. The ring inside of it evaporated to nothingness, leaving only a small, dark stone behind.

***

   In a subterranean cave beneath an ocean cliff, a lake of corpses collectively shuddered – and then exploded into a cloud of gore.

***

   In a manor only recently abandoned, a massive map on the world hanging on a wall ignited, burning to scraps in seconds before the flames inexplicably faded away.

***

   Past a long, dark corridor and a black door, a dozen glass spheres on dusty shelves exploded.

   A stack of hourglasses on gold chains cracked, spilling precious sand across the chamber as their enchantments died.

   And in a room that had once held only an archway and a veil and now held so much more, a mechanism that had only moved sporadically now began to whir with energy, its master slowly nodding with satisfaction, a single tear streaking his face.

***

   One instant, he was embedded in iron, his mind screaming in hopeless rage at the grey emptiness…

   And then he was free, on hands and knees on the ground, his breath heaving, his lips unsealed, staring down at the ground through his glasses –

   His glasses.

   Harry looked wildly down at himself. His robes had been restored, his glasses repaired, his body restored to normal – even though he had no idea how long he had been sealed away – it felt like forever, even though he knew it was probably only an instant –

   -you’re welcome-

   He looked up, only to see Su Li standing over him, a supremely disdainful expression on her face.

   “Did you,” he asked desperately, scrabbling to his feet, “did you get –”

   -it’s not over. while the abomination may have been driven back, the true crime has not yet been solved. you will be free to return to your body, and I will return to mine-

   Su Li’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and Harry quickly took a step back.

   -but you and i will know this, and know the connection – it was your dangerous choice, not mine –

  “I was never going to use your body for a simulacrum,” Harry said quickly. “I only needed it –”

   -for this. in the end, the choice is yours. i have used your cords to guide you to where it all began – the Headmaster did the rest – but from here on, i can do nothing more-

   “T-Thank you,” Harry whispered. “I’m sorry.”

   Su Li shrugged, her dark gaze drifting past him to stare at the broken iron door.

   -death is only a timeless instant before the step onwards – but as you should know by now, if you get stuck in a instant, you can’t get out.

***

   He awoke in pain.

   “Shit… lumos.”

   His wand lit up, and Harry groaned as he wiped a smear of blood from his nose and mouth – from the looks of things, and from the blood splattered across the top of the podium and the floor, he had really taken a hit when –

   He paused, his thoughts racing with confusion. Where was he? The chamber around him looked similar as the one he’d left, but all of the silvery prongs had vanished, and the ‘model’ of Hogwarts on the podium was gone. And besides the thin light of his wand, everything had gone out.

   He rose cautiously to his feet, quickly scanning the room, searching for anything that he could see –

   He saw a vaguely human-shaped smear of blood and grit on the floor, and he grimaced. From the looks of things, there was nothing left of Nott to salvage.

   “Guess I just need to get out of here,” he whispered, quickly finding the door and stumbling down the uneven stairwell. He kept a firm hand on the wall, but even that felt like it was crumbling beneath his fingers, vanishing away...

   He reached the bottom of the stairs and the exit… and his mouth fell open with shock.

   He wasn’t standing in a hall of impossible dimensions anymore. There was no long archway to a narrow corridor, and Dumbledore was nowhere in sight.

   Instead, he saw a hall with a very visible ceiling, palely lit by candles with blue fire and glimmering torches. The entire hall reminded him of a cathedral – a cathedral filled with high, dusty wooden shelves, stacked with glass spheres of every size and shape. Each sphere was coated in dust, and there was a dim light leaking from each, giving the entire hall an unearthly glow. A few shelves had collapsed – and from the destroyed masonry and rock surrounding them, Harry guessed that the sphere’s arrival had caused that, but most of the room was intact.

   He wiped a trickle of blood from his nose as he frowned and shivered – it was frigid inside the hall. “What the… where the hell –”

   “It’s the Hall of Prophecy.”

   Harry’s ears perked up – he knew that voice. But why is he –

   “For you,” Nathan Cassane said quietly, stepping out of the shadows from behind one of the shelves and adjusting the edge of his robes, “it’s where it all began – or, at least to most people. The prophecy about your birth was made here, and was kept here, until Voldemort stole it.”

   Cassane gave a long, shuddering sigh, blinking quickly as he finally met Harry’s eyes. “But enough about that – you’re here, and that’s what’s important. Forget the past.”

   He stretched out his hand. “Let’s go for a walk, Harry – it’s about time we talk about your future.”