~H~

The Time-Keeper

~H~

Harry Potter's eyes burst open, awareness washing over him unnaturally fast. He moved to sit up in his bed, his right hand Summoning his holly wand even his left was carefully disentangled from his lover.

This feeling washing over him, this soft dread in the pit of his stomach … He'd never felt it before, but he knew what it was.

Someone had infiltrated his house in Diagon Alley, the magical protections told him. The house he'd been sleeping in until a minute ago.

He pulled the white sheets from his body and got to his feet, careful not to awake his wife who, even now, presented the image of beauty, platinum-blonde hair strewn about her as she slept.

He found his glasses, quickly put on his underwear and a pair of pants he found on a chair nearby, and slowly crept towards the bedroom door, wand at the ready. The feeling had not abated; the intruder was still about.

Harry did not open any light. He flattened himself against the door, hoping to catch some noise from the small corridor and the living room beyond it. Nothing.

The door was crafted to be silent, but he sent a nonverbal charm at it to the same effect, just in case, before slowly creeping it open, looking through the crack.

There was light coming from the living room.

Harry crept into the corridor, closing the door behind him. He moved slowly, carefully, all senses extended. He could feel someone in the living room, the distinctive beat of magic about them. A wizard. Whoever it was, it was not one of the precious few Harry had allowed to come and go from his home, else the protective magic would not have wakened him so violently.

He lay flat against the corner of corridor that led to the living room, waiting. A minute passed. Two minutes. Nothing. No sound, no movement. The wizard was waiting. For what, Harry didn't know.

Having had enough of waiting, himself, Harry stepped into the living room's light, wand first, ready to cast if need be.

What he saw surprised him, but not enough to lower his guard. Sitting on the sofa across from him in his living room was a woman. A witch. One very unlike he was used to seeing.

She was wearing a dark kimono – if Harry's memories of his brief visit to the Orient were accurate – and tall, wooden sandals on her feet. Her visible skin – neck and face – were painted a soft white, offset by the shock of red on her lips and the gentle, darker colors around her eyes. Her long dark hair were caught up in a very elaborate bun, held together by two thin, wooden needles criss-crossing each other. In her left hand was a stick. Not a wand, he realized instantly, but instead one meant to hold a cigarette, or something of its kind.

Not something one saw every day in the heart of London.

She was looking right at him with a smile, and started talking as soon as he walked in. Soft, amused words that he didn't understand.

Chinese, he realized with a start. He knew a bit of the language, had started learning it a long time ago but hadn't really had the time to invest. She was speaking too fast for his basic understanding. Something about time? Something was late?

"-this any better, dear?"

And suddenly, he could understand her perfectly. Harry blinked, surprised by the sudden influx of foreign magic; a Translation charm.

He hadn't even seen her move.

"Are you quite alright?" she asked, amused, and Harry realized he pondered for too long and failed to reply.

"Been better," he replied, not taking his eyes off of her or lowering his wand. "Could have still been sleeping, for example. What are you doing here?"

"Straight to the point?" she asked with a brief, tittering laugh. "So unlike your old master. He always like to take his time with such things."

"You knew Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked, fingers clenching tighter around his wand despite himself.

"Perhaps not as well as you did," the woman admitted, "but certainly in a different manner, also."

Something about the way she spoke sounded … weird, to Harry. Artificial.

"That's nice, but it still doesn't explain what you're doing in my house in the middle of the night. How did you even get in?" He had been sure of the protections in his apartment. Had set them up himself.

The woman gave another soft smile. Perhaps a mocking one? Her painted face made it hard to tell.

"It wasn't that hard, you know," she informed him. "Certainly harder than the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, at least. My previous stop."

Harry furrowed his brow. Breaking into the Department was no easy feat, even during the night when no one was around. Moreover, this woman knew him, so she must have known that he was the Head of the Department; and still admitted to having broken in.

Harry tilted his head to the side. "I'm going to arrest you," he said. "We'll figure this out in the morning."

A stunning spell left his wand then, the red streak making a beeline for the Chinese woman who made no move to react. Never a good sign. In the miniscule instance after the spell left his wand and Harry making that observation, he began to cast again, certain that it wouldn't be enough.

Inches before hitting her chest, the mass of red magic veered off, changing course and splashing harmlessly against the wall. Harry didn't understand how it happened, but was already in the process of sending another while eyeing the carpet. With a quick Transfiguration, he could-

His thoughts halted as he was blasted off his feet, holly wand jerking away from his fingers. He flew through the air for a second before crashing against the wall and right into a large portrait, its startled inhabitants rushing off to other frames.

Harry dropped to the floor with a grunt of pain. Whatever had hit him hadn't been particularly painful, but it was disorienting and had blown his breath away.

He was beginning to gather his wits and attempting to move when another spell hit him, locking his limbs in place. From his slumped position, his view was perpetually locked on his motionless hands and awkwardly splayed feet.

He heard soft footsteps approach him, until a pair of socked, sandaled feet stood next to him.

"Now you just wait right here," he heard her say, before she headed into the corridor.

Not there, Harry wanted to say. Daphne!, he wanted to shout, but his body would not comply. He strained his ears, trying to listen inside.

Surely Daphne must have heard the thud he made when he hit the wall. He hoped she hadn't. If she was asleep, then maybe the woman wouldn't hurt her. Perhaps ...

Harry couldn't think of that. He strained, fighting against the magic holding him captive. The spell was powerful, but he was still conscious, and thus he could begin to counteract it from the inside. It would be slow, though. Too slow.

He heard footsteps again, several minutes later, and the same sandals along with the edge of the kimono entered his field of vision.

"It seems our business is concluded, Mister Potter."

Harry realized then, what bothered him about her speech. It was tightly controlled and deliberate. Like each syllable had to be consciously enunciated. Was she trying to do that to disguise her real voice? Or maybe a medical condition of some kind?

He wondered if she would kill him now. If she had killed Daphne. He worked in magical law enforcement, knew the probable answers to both questions. But he hoped. He hoped that perhaps Daphne, at least, would be spared as irrelevant.

He would have begged for her, if his mouth could move.

"It is unfortunate that our first meeting had to go like this, but I'm afraid I had no choice. You have your own duties, yes? And Miss Chang has hers. Do not think too badly of me. You do not know it but we are on the same side, if you care enough to draw a line."

The feet moved out of his field of vision, towards the fireplace, and something dropped on his inert hands. His holly wand. Useless to him, but still a comfort.

The telltale whoosh of Floo travel broke him out of his reverie. The woman … Miss Chang, was gone. And he was still alive.

That was good. If he was spared, chances were Daphne had been, too. But he had to check. He had to know for sure.

It took him the better part of thirty minutes to finally break free of her spell. When he did, his limbs were cramped everywhere, and he was pretty sure the wet line down his back was blood from a head wound. He must have hit the wall harder than he thought.

His shaky fingers curled around his wand. It took a few breaths, but he finally felt steady enough to heal his injuries; first the superficial cuts and scrapes, then the deeper one on his head.

He rose with a groan, body protesting every motion, and used a hand against the wall to stagger towards the bedroom.

There she was, lying motionless on the bed, limbs splayed. Her wand lay forgotten, inches from her outstretched hand. She looked so pale.

"No..." he whispered, eyes widening in horror. She couldn't be …

He rushed over, pain forgotten as he dropped next to her, spells flying from his wand.

Instantly he let out a sigh of relief. She was alive, just petrified like he had been.

"Finite," he managed to say, shaky wand pointed at her heart.

Daphne drew in a sharp breath, her hand clamping down on his.

"Ha-Harry?"

"It's fine. She's gone."

Her wild eyes focused on him, before slowly relaxing, and her death-grip on his wrist loosened. She relaxed, letting out a painful groan at moving again. Harry lay down next to her.

"I heard a noise from inside," she said. "I thought you were trying to play one of your imbecilic practical jokes."

Harry choked a laugh.

"Then this woman walked in. I-... I saw your feet, slumped on the living room's floor. I tried to … she did something. I do not think I saw her move, but she incapacitated me."

"Yeah."

"Who was that?"

"Called herself Miss Chang."

He felt her stiffen next to him.

"You know her?"

"Heard of her, perhaps," she corrected him. "A rumor, here and there, from our trade partners in the Orient. Fairy tales."

"See what you can find," Harry said, giving her a nod. "I'll head to the Ministry and do the same. Stay in your parents' house until this blows over."

"And you?"

Harry grimaced. He'd never liked Greengrass Manor. "I'll find a place to crash."

At the feel of her two hands taking gentle hold of his left, he look at her, askance.

She led his hand to gently lay it against her stomach, as of yet still flat.

"You would leave me alone at night?" she asked. "Even now?"

Harry let out a heavy breath.

"This is unfair."

She said nothing, only smiled and pressed his hand with hers just a little more.

"Fine," Harry conceded with a groan. "I'll find you at your family's place, alright? But it won't be often. Tell your Dad what happened. I need to figure out how she does it, find her, and get the files back, in that order."

He felt a squeeze on his hand.

"Of course, dear husband."

Harry shook his head at her sarcastic tone, but said nothing.

"Must we not get up now?"

They should. The house was no longer safe. He'd have to pack the important things –figure out if the risk of the Elder wand's enchantments on that one counter getting overcome was too great – and then immediately head to the Ministry. There was a lot of work to be done.

"Yeah, just..." he said, mulling it over. "In a second."

His wife hummed, and Harry squeezed her hand.

~H~

Harry spent the better part of seven hours talking with Minister Kingsley, his Head Auror Jack Dawnson and a few select Department Heads that he trusted. He told them exactly what had happened and what he knew. Together, they brainstormed a course of action.

The first conclusion they reached was an easy one. No one could know. The rest of the Ministry; and by extension the rest of Wizarding Britain, could not be allowed to know that their Head of the DMLE had been overcome in his home, losing precious Ministry files in the process. The public outcry would be enormous. Heads would roll, measures would be demanded and someone to blame would be looked for. As of yet, they had none to offer. 'A Chinese woman' would hardly go over well with the Chinese ambassador.

They did discuss letting the ambassador know, in hopes of information, but deemed the security risk too great.

Regarding countermeasures, little headway had been made there. Without the case files, which held the pooled evidence and investigation reports, the case of the disappearances was pretty much dead in the water. Months of work was lost, a good chunk of it irreplaceable. To re-create everything from scratch would be a long and arduous process, yielding only parts of what was stolen.

The best options would be to quietly find and apprehend the perpetrator, which was in itself the problem. A forensic team had visited Harry's – now abandoned – apartment, to examine what they could. There was nothing of use to be found regarding the elusive Miss Chang. Whatever it was that she did, it didn't leave a heavy magical sense.

Harry had been afraid that this would be the case, as people of this caliber tended to rely on finesse and efficiency rather than flashiness or heavy uses of force.

He had shared a Pensieve memory of the encounter, in hopes that someone would be able to explain what had happened, but he had expected little. In recent years, he had become the Ministry's go-to expert on practical magic; at least of the sort that was commonly employed in combat, and he had no clue what took place.

In the same vein, none of the people in the know had been able to uncover some hidden trick. To all who had watched, it seemed as if one moment Harry had been standing there, wand aloft, and the next his focus was sent flying and he had been blasted off his feet. All the while, Miss Chang had simply smiled and watched.

It had seemed like a trick of the light when he experienced it, for surely she must have moved and he had simply missed it, but no. The spells that hit him were fairly standard, though they were curiously almost invisible to the naked eye, and came at him directly from Miss Chang's direction. Definitely an Expelliarmus, with a variation of the Bombarda or another kinetic spell to blow him away? In the Pensieve memory examination, no movement was visible from his assailant, and he was quite sure that there had been no other hidden attackers.

His sense for magic had been steadily growing over the last two decades. He had sensed Miss Chang in his living room. He could feel people employing invisibility cloaks or charms to hide themselves.

And there was something in Miss Chang's bearing… A confidence that spoke of absolute certainty in one's self. Of course, an argument could be made that the miraculous trick was how they hid the second perpetrator from his senses rather than how Miss Chang managed what she did, but Harry was fairly sure that was a wrong line of thinking. Still, if he could find nothing as to how Miss Chang cast spells without moving her wand at all, that possibility would also have to be examined.

Harry couldn't stay in his office anymore. Everyone else had left, returning to their own workplaces and work, but he was still left with this issue as a priority. Perhaps some fresh air would do him good.

He grabbed his coat, nodded at his secretary and the few paper-pushers around the office that turned to look at him, then headed to the elevator. From there to the Atrium and from there; after a few polite nods and shaken hands, he Disapparated, coming back into existence in a dark alley nearby with a soft pop. To his left, he could see a street where the alley ended, with cars and passersby going about their business without sparing the exit a single look.

He leaned against the building, letting out a long-suffering sigh and rubbing at the his right eye under his glasses.

Not even a day had passed, and his nerves were already frayed. The phrase 'too close to home' was ironic to a disgusting degree here. He had been assaulted and overcome in his home. With Daphne in there. Anything could have happened.

He'd developed a healthy respect for his combat prowess as the years and the achievements and the experience piled up; to have it all amount to nothing was a very rude shake-up. How could he have let this happen?

His thoughts were interrupted by something. Movement to his left, on the main street. One of the people walking by … seemed familiar.

Harry pushed himself off the wall, hurried to the entrance of the alley and looked in the direction the person had went. He could just make him out, amid the muggles.

He knew that coat.

He followed the man, trying to catch up, passing between the busy afternoon London crowd as quick as he could, excusing himself left and right.

His pursuit must have been noticed because, before he could get close enough, the man bolted, all but jumping into another small alley, removing himself from Harry's vision.

"Wait!" Harry shouted instinctively, pulling his wand out and squeezing between a pair of muggles before following the man in the alley; barely wide enough for one adult man. He caught the edges of the man's coat as he was turning a corner, and started running.

Once Harry cleared the corner he came to a sudden halt; the man had stopped a few paces onward and now stood still, back to him.

Harry cursed himself inwardly, eyes flitting everywhere, looking for potential ambushers. Never rush after a target that has noticed you. It was one of the first and most useful pieces of advice given at the Academy. Hell, he used to give it himself, and now he'd fallen for that simple mistake.

He wasn't thinking clearly, that day in general and especially after seeing that coat, and that hair on the man.

He knew that coat and that hair.

The man turned, and Harry blinked. Once, twice.

"Hello," he greeted himself.

Harry Potter grinned back at him. "Hello, Harry."

"Is this Polyjuice?" Despite the level tone he used, Harry's hand had not stopped pointing his wand straight at, well, his own heart.

Other-Harry smiled again. "I'm going to put my hands in my pockets and pull out two items, one of which will be our wand, held at the wrong end. Is that fine?"

Harry nodded, watching his doppelganger's slow movements critically.

The item in Other-Harry's right hand was indeed a wand, held at the point. Harry would recognize his wand everywhere and if nothing else, this was a perfect replica. Held casually in his left hand was a golden, shiny hourglass.

"I see," Harry said. "When did I get that?"

"A young Unspeakable will stumble into you as you're leaving the Time Room, sometime soon. You will help her to her feet and wave as she leaves, and then you'll look down and notice that she dropped a Time Turner and some research papers."

"Do I report her?"

"No, but you will conveniently find her a few minutes later to give her the papers she forgot, putting this here Time Turner in her pocket as you give her a pat on the back," Other-Harry said with a smile as he tossed the hourglass a few centimeters in the air, catching it again effortlessly.

Harry furrowed his brow. "Do I use it immediately?"

A shake of his head. "No. You'll know when it's time."

"Then, the part where we return it …?"

"Hasn't happened yet. I'll take care of it. As will you, in time."

"Then how do you know that's what is supposed to happen?"

Other-Harry grinned. "I asked myself the same question."

Harry understood.

"Alright. But if it's not soon, what will you do until then?"

There could only be one Harry Potter running around publicly and going to work, after all. Harry was astonished that he'd traveled back what appeared to be days. Certainly a lot more than a few hours.

Other-Harry smiled, but it was a small, wistful thing.

"There's someone I have to find," he said.

Harry didn't understand, but he nodded nonetheless. He'd know, soon. "Anything else?"

Another shake of the head. "That's all we tell ourselves."

"Good luck."

With a last nod, Harry left his future self behind, walking towards the exit of the alley, thinking back on the bewildering experience of talking to himself for the first time.

Meeting himself had been … bizarre, to say the least. He'd time-traveled a couple times in the past, but always made sure never to actually meet or talk to himself. Seeing himself interact from the outside was weird, not to mention the idea that there were two of him running around at any given moment.

Daphne should never hear of this, he resolved.

With a shake of his head he cleared his thoughts, his brow creasing as something else occured to him. He'd received a clue, perhaps unwittingly. The Department of Mysteries. Apparently, he was about to spend a lot of time there. Why, though? He rarely if at all visited that department, only entering the Unspeakables' haunts because of his …

Of his cases!

He'd soon go to the Department of Mysteries, specifically the Time Room, because of a case. More probably than not, it'd have something to do with Miss Chang and the stolen files. Was time travel involved somehow?

After making his way to a secluded spot, Harry Apparated back to the Ministry Atrium, hurrying as much as he could without making a scene on his way to the elevator.

When the door clicked open and he rushed in, he bumped against one of his three favorite people in the world, scattering a bunch of files she'd been holding in her hands.

"Oof!" Hermione exclaimed upon finding herself on her backside, courtesy of a collision with Harry's chest.

"Sorry," Harry said as he rushed to help her, first to her feet and then to gather her scattered papers.

"Department of Mysteries," Harry spoke to the elevator as he was getting back to his feet, which repeated the called floor with its customary dry intonation.

"Harry!" the Head of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures said from next to him. "I've been looking everywhere for you! I found something to help you."

Harry was thankful it was just them in this particular elevator. "Yes, Hermione?"

"I was worried about what you said earlier so I talked to Gibbons and together we went through some old Auror archives, looking for the name Chang to see if anything came up," she replied hurriedly, passing several papers to the bottom of the stack and shaking her head. "That was futile. Too many hits, too many results for our search to come up with anything worthwhile. Chang is a common name, and there are plenty of families in London, never mind all the countries where British Aurors have participated in oper-"

"Hermione, get to the point."

"The point? Oh, right. Well, we were just pulling our hair at how useless the name was, convinced it must be fake, when I had a thought-"

"Of course you did."

She smacked him on the shoulder with the file stack, which actually hurt a bit.

"So I had a thought. The woman introduced herself as Miss Chang, right? Miss Chang."

"You think the term is important?"

"It has to be, right? Or the phrase becomes awkward. So we scanned the Archive again, this time searching for Miss Chang specifically. A lot fewer results, though still many to sort through. It took some doing, by which I mean-"

"Hermione."

"Err, right. Well, the term Miss Chang has been used to refer to a person connected to a case before. More than once, actually, and not in particular connection to any Chang families. The interesting pattern Gibbons discovered was that a lot such mentions had been removed from the archive, the cases changing jurisdiction and ending up in-"

"Level 9, Department of Mysteries."

Harry could have laughed. The automatic voice of the elevator could not have had better timing.

Harry grinned at his friend as the doors opened. She tried to pull some hair behind her ear, a nervous habit from before she started tying it.

"But … how did you know ..."

"Come, Hermione. You're brilliant, and I'm going to need your help," Harry said, taking her by the arm and leading them further in.

"Oy, watch it, Mister!"

Once there, they made their way through the empty hallway and into the Door Room. It looked as disorienting as ever.

"Potter," a voice greeted him. Harry turned to his left and finally noticed the figure standing against the wall, black cloak fading against the dark walls of the room. The figure was covering their face with a hood.

"Really, Dench? Perpetuating the stereotype even in the workplace?"

"What do you want, Potter?" she asked, voice muffled and arms crossed over her chest.

"Is that all you have to say to me? We haven't seen each other since, what, my wedding?"

"Tell me what you require or I will have you thrown out."

Harry sighed. "So sociable … fine. We need the Time Room, and the assistance of whoever you have working there."

The Head Unspeakable said nothing for a few minutes, processing his request.

"What do you want with it?"

"You'd know that if you'd come to the meeting earlier. Did the paper plane not reach you?"

The Head of the Department of Mysteries ignored him. "Why should I give you unrestricted access to the Time Room? You know some of what's held there."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's not like I'll steal anything. Come on, Anne. I'll buy you a drink later."

The Head Unspeakable did not look convinced. After a few seconds of silent staring, she turned to Hermione. "You'll be responsible for him?"

"Hey!"

"I will."

"Fine, then. Find Unspeakable Turner. She'll assist you. No drinks."

One of the doors to Harry's right lit up in a pale blue light, before opening. Dull, golden light came from the entrance.

"Thanks, Dench."

"Leave immediately after your research is finished. Don't come again."

"It was fun seeing you too." Harry waved over his shoulder as they entered, the door closing behind them with a thud.

Harry had visited the Time Room a couple times before, usually just passing through, and had never quite gotten used to the sparkling light filling this chamber, emitted from the huge crystal bell jar at its far end. Bookcases lined all the walls, filled as much with books as with clocks. Clocks of all kinds and sizes, from pocket watches to large, imposing grandfather clocks, some of them reaching all the way to the ceiling. The constant ticking from all the clocks filled the silence. A large number of Time Turners lay within a glass case, spanning almost the entire length of the room.

The restored Time Room and its stock of Time Turners was the result of decades of restorative efforts after their ill-advised jaunt through the Department on Harry and Hermione's fifth year. An event that Dench rarely passed on mentioning.

An Unspeakable rose to her feet from a small work desk in a corner, pushing a pair of glasses higher up her nose.

"Miss Turner, was it?" Harry said with a smile as he moved closer, offering his hand for a shake.

"Director, Madam Weasley, pleasure to meet you," she greeted them both with a handshake. "What can I help you with?" Harry was glad she wasn't one of the Unspeakables who still gave him the stink-eye. He'd apologized for ruining their workspace!

Hermione took over here, all but pushing Harry to the side as she explained the situation, what they needed, and some of her theories. For a while, Harry just watched the two focused women converse. It wasn't often he found someone capable of keeping up with Hermione when she was researching something.

He was jolted to movement when they started bringing books down from the shelves.

"Don't just stand there," Hermione huffed irritably. "Be useful."

"Right," Harry replied with a shake of his head, before getting to work.

Unfortunately, progress was slow. The Time Room itself appeared relatively small, but all the material, books and files held in its shelves, if laid out in proper proportion, would require a good chunk of the Hogwarts library. Hermione and Turner went through file after file, passing anything that seemed even remotely relevant over to Harry, who was more familiar with the case and what to look for.

It took them the better part of a week to construct a spherical view of what everything meant. The cases that Hermione had found that had been all but confiscated by the Department of Mysteries all pertained crimes relating to the abuse of time, in various ways.

Most commonly, that meant the abuse of time turners, or illegal creation of sands of time. In all the relevant cases, a Chinese woman, sometimes identified by moniker as Miss Chang, was involved. Sometimes, the perpetrators would be found dead and Miss Chang would be implicated in their murder. Other times, she would interfere with various law enforcement agencies of whatever country, leaving the case to remain presumably unsolved. Considering that all these instances were related to the abuse of the time continuum somehow, it was no wonder the Department had taken jurisdiction of the cases and left them in the Time Room.

From those facts alone, and after long discussions with Dawnson regarding their findings, Harry was able to deduce several things.

The biggest conclusion they got to was that Miss Chang, rather than a single person, seemed to be an organization. A group of some sort. Reports with someone bearing the moniker dated as far back as the Ministry's creation, the point where written records began being kept in any organized manner. Unless Miss Chang was very, very well acquainted with Nicholas Flamel, there had to be more than one.

The fact that it was a group led to the immediate assumption of a goal of some sort: a reason for the group's existence. From what they knew of Miss Chang's operations, them being equally antagonistic towards law enforcement as they were towards other criminals, the logical assumption would be that they were hoarding Time-related artefacts and knowledge, viciously attacking anyone who might show themselves as being owners of such without the protection of entities such as official Ministries.

From what they could tell, Miss Chang had never attacked a Ministry directly before, at least not the British one, beyond incapacitating some Aurors at crime scenes a number of times, the last instance of which occurred over forty years ago. That Harry had been attacked in his home as he had meant that they had gotten bolder or had gotten closer to the achievement of their goal. There was also the possibility that something had made them desperate enough to throw caution to the wind.

As he was leaving on the fifth day of their project, Harry bumped against a young Unspeakable trying to enter the Time Room as he left it, carrying a large box which spilled over as soon as she dropped it in her surprise. Dutifully, Harry pulled her to her feet, helped her gather the things from the box and waved at her as she left.

He saw the glint of the Time Turner in a small corner, forgotten there along with a few scattered papers that had been missed. He pocketed the small hourglass, leaving the papers there for himself to pick up and return. As he was leaving the Department, he thought he saw the edges of a familiar coat turn a corner towards the Door Room.

After about two weeks, follow three straight days of no results, Harry decided that they'd found as much as they could, and further search would be a waste of resources. He had enough to work with. Hermione disagreed, and decided to continue individually, but Harry did not return to the Time Room, or the Department of Mysteries.

He had other avenues to explore.

Mis Chang's fascination with Time Travel had given him a lot of food for thought over the course of the last few weeks. How they would just pop up whenever unsanctioned or foolhardy time travel occurred.

He spent a full day in his office, practically dead to the world as he reviewed the memory of his attack again and again, trying to see if his new insight revealed anything new.

Several hours in, he'd begun to think that he was fooling himself into seeing what he wanted to see. He'd spelled the Pensieve to work slower, showing him the memory five times slower than normal speed. When he did that, something interesting happened.

At the point where he was blasted off his feet, just an instance before that, there was the briefest of blurs from Miss Chang. A trick of the light, perhaps, with how quickly it disappeared. Even seeing the memory again did not assure Harry that it wasn't just his idea.

He left the Pensieve, and cast more spells. This time, he lowered the viewing speed to twenty times slower than normal, the slowest he could make it without endangering the Pensieve, and cast the Supersensory charm on himself, along with a few other such charms. When combined, they would give him increased perception, quicker reflexes, and far exceed the normal human eye's capability to perceive speed, for a limited time.

Holding so many sense-affecting spells at the same time was not only taxing on his concentration, but also dangerous. The human mind was not supposed to operate under such conditions: it was not meant to accept such a high degree of sensory input so quickly. Beyond the killer headache he'd be sure to have after this, prolonged use of such a combination of spells could lead to permanent brain damage.

Still, for the minute he'd need to keep them active, he should be fine.

Watching the memory again under these conditions was … enlightening. He saw, aided by the slowing of the Pensieve and his own increased perception, movement, where before there was none. Miss Chang had not simply sat there and cast magic with her mind. Her hand had moved. It was almost too quick to see, even with all this assistance, but he could clearly make out her hand as it blurred, as well as the glint of her wand before she unleashed the trio of spells his way.

He now knew what Miss Chang had done, but was no closer to understanding how she did it. He spent the next three days in deep contemplation, coming up with theories that might seem plausible if he squinted.

While he worked on this case for these three weeks, Dawnson had been responsible for the Auror Office's day to day operations, while a slew of secretaries took care of most of the administrative work that didn't require Harry's direct input. It wasn't rare for him to be personally working on specific cases, and Harry had made sure to put competent people in key positions so that the Ministry would operate optimally even while he was busy in this way.

He'd have spent the entirety of those days in the office if left to his own devices, but the irate Mrs Potter had had other ideas. Every evening, he got a call on his charmed mirror by his wife, all but demanding he return in time to have dinner with her and her family.

Rather than refuse and risk his wife's wrath, Harry opted to grab his files and continue work from home, after dinner.

Normally, extended meetings with the Greengrass family would tend to test his patience, but such was not the case during this period. He'd Floo in exhausted, having worked from early in the morning, and have little mood for conversation or appearances. Daphne's parents and sister, seeing him this sullen, would respect his state and leave him to eat and retire in peace.

At night he would lay down with his wife and relax, hearing her talk about her day, and fielding her irritated jabs at how absent he'd been lately. With that comforting chattering going on, his eyes would droop and he would fall asleep with her in his arms, only to wake up early the next morning and start the whole process again.

It had been at least two years since he'd been so focused with work. He never enjoyed it when things turned so hectic, but this time was different. This time was personal. Miss Chang had invaded his home, threatened himself and his wife. Harry would not rest or relax while that danger still existed.

So, he worked. He deliberated, he researched, and he planned. Over the course of days, he'd worked up a theory as to how Miss Chang managed to move as she did, and set about researching countermeasures. Any future confrontation with her would depend on it. He meticulously wrote every part of the process down.

That was also a crucial part of his plan.

~H~

"I think you have upset grandmother Mariana."

Harry didn't turn towards the voice. Sweat was pouring down his brow and shoulders, unhindered due to his shirtless state. His arms were extended forward, his right holding his wand. Slowly, with steady but heavy breaths, he let the magic fade and finally his arms dropped, feeling far heavier than they should.

Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heartbeat, and Summoned a towel from a nearby chair, using it to clean his brow and neck. Finally, he turned to look at the speaker.

His wife was standing a few feet away, dressed in a fluffy indoors coat, a smirk on her gorgeous face. Harry followed her line of sight to the stack of portraits that he'd removed and placed in a corner. He shrugged.

"They were getting in my way."

"I think grandmother is less upset at being mishandled than she is at missing seeing you shirtless."

Harry snorted, slowly stepping closer to her. They could hear the muffled, indignant denials of the portrait, stuck somewhere in the middle of the pile.

Not giving her time to react, Harry jerked his wand and Daphne was suddenly propelled forward, straight into his open arms which closed around her. She fought against him, resisting his hug as he laughed.

"Let go of me, you oaf!" she protested. "You stink!"

"Is that any way to talk to me? I missed you, you know."

"And whose fault is that? Let go, or I swear to god-"

Harry laughed again, but did let her go. He watched in amusement as she took a few steps back, wrinkling her nose, using her wand to Vanish all traces of sweat from both of their bodies.

"What's up?" he asked after she was done.

"You missed dinner," she replied critically. Harry rubbed the back of his head.

"Sorry. Suppose I was too engrossed. Did you save me some?"

Daphne scoffed, turning her head away and crossing her arms. "Why should I care if you eat when you do not?"

"Is it in the kitchen or the dining room?"

"It is on a counter in the kitchen, but that does not excuse you."

Harry laughed again, Summoning the rest of his clothes from where he'd dropped them. "Are you going to bed already?"

"Indeed. Eat, bathe, and only then may you join me."

"Of course, love," he replied, stealing a quick kiss despite his wife's grunt of mock-disapproval, and leaving the drawing room.

Less than an hour later, he joined Daphne in her childhood room, more than large enough for both of them. Even though she had not used expansion charms as liberally as her sister, whose room resembled an underground cavern in size, it was still as big as his entire apartment. He found Daphne already in bed and reading a book. He undressed quickly, slipping under the covers beside her.

He let out a sigh of contentment, left hand snaking around his wife's shoulder and drawing her closer. She obliged, putting the book side and leaning on his shoulder. They lay in comfortable silence for a while.

"Father wants his drawing room back, you know," she informed him a few minutes later.

Harry let out a snort of amusement. "Does he now?"

"It has been almost two weeks since you ceased your work in the Ministry and took it over. He is anxious to return it to its proper state."

"Weird, he hasn't told me anything."

This time, it was Daphne who found something amusing. "You have not seen your face these last few weeks, otherwise you would understand why he did not. You have been very … intent, lately. Short. Abrasive."

Harry pursed his lips, rubbing at his eyes under his glasses with his free hand.

"Suppose you're right. Sorry, it's just …"

"You need to do this."

"Yeah."

He felt her delicate fingers take hold of his hand. "Why?" she asked.

Harry took a minute, before finally deciding on a reply.

"I was … complacent," he admitted. "Arrogant. It put us all at risk. Never again."

"You are being ridiculous."

Harry chuckled. "Maybe."

"You seem different today."

"Different how?"

Daphne trailed perfectly manicured fingers over his chest.

"Less intense. Happier."

Oh. Harry supposed it made sense. "I finally feel like I've got a good handle on it," he admitted. "I never thought holding so many charms and enchantments at the same time would be possible."

"But you did it."

Harry nodded, the move bringing his chin to the top of her head. "Yeah."

"You plan to confront her soon, then?"

"I'll go tomorrow."

There was a long silence.

"You think it will be enough to beat her?"

Harry considered this. It was a question he'd often ask himself, lately. "Perhaps not," he admitted. "But then again, that's not the point. I'm not going to try to bring her in, at least not tomorrow. First I want to talk to her. Them. Get some answers."

He felt, more than saw, his wife's frown. "Is that prudent?"

"I think it is."

"How many are you taking with you?"

Harry shook his head. "It's just me. All goes as planned, there won't be a fight at all."

Daphne froze, half-rising off his shoulder, supporting herself on her elbow to look straight at him with a frown.

"You must be joking."

"I'd never be able to get a full squad of Aurors into China legally. Even going by myself took this long to be approved. They don't trust our Ministry."

His wife considered this, her beautiful lips pressed into a thin line. Eventually she let out an irritated groan, before letting herself rest against his shoulder again.

"What time are we leaving, then?"

"We?"

"I have not let you do something this stupid alone in over seven years. I am not about to start now."

Harry's grip around her shoulders tightened, as did his grip on her hand.

"You're not going anywhere."

"But-"

"No. No buts, no negotiations, no arguments," Harry cut her off, voice much harsher than he'd meant to. He guided their clasped hands to Daphne's belly. "Now, of all times, I won't let you so much as get out of the house. I'm going to stun you and tie you up if you as much as think about following me. Is that clear?"

"That is unfair. You also have a duty to-"

"Is that clear, Daphne?"

She did not reply, and the silence stretched. He felt her shoulders quiver as she worked through what he said.

"Besides," he continued, softening his voice as much as he could, "I told you I'm only going to negotiate. Nothing will happen."

"Then why have you spent the last two weeks practicing how to fight her?"

Harry did not reply for a long while. "Just in case," he allowed finally.

Daphne did not offer a response, but he could feel her dark mood. This was one of the cases where she knew that she had nothing nice to say, so chose to say nothing, instead. Harry chuckled, admiring her restraint, and let the conversation end there.

~H~

"... just a few kilometers west from Xi'an. Xi'an has over seven million inhabitants, but Xianyang has barely a million. According to our sources, no wizards live nearby. Not one in the entire prefecture."

Harry shook his head at his Head Auror, hunched over his desk at the Director's Office over a pile of papers.

"I'm not surprised," Harry said. "With the Emperor's tomb and the Terracotta Army so close."

Dawnson looked up at him, giving him a cautious glance. "You think Chang had something to do with … that?"

Harry grimaced. Nobody liked to speak about the cursed army.

"We know her group's been around for at least that long," he answered, before shaking his head, "but there's nothing beyond speculation, even from our people in China. We need to focus on the situation at hand."

"Well, at the very least we know that-"

Dawnson stopped talking when the cough was heard from the door. Both men turned their heads to see it ajar, a nervous face peeking in.

"Yes, Radley?"

"Um, excuse me sir, but there are two gentlemen here to see you."

Harry sighed. Radley could have transferred out of his duties as his secretary years ago, but the younger man never did.

"This is sort of important. Have them set up an appointment."

He was beginning to look down when his secretary spoke up again.

"With all due respect, sir, you might want to talk to them. It's William Weasley and Neville Longbottom. They … they mentioned your wife, sir."

The sheer mention of Daphne was enough to instill a healthy fear to anyone in the Auror Office. Perhaps not without justification, but Harry rather thought both sides were being overly dramatic.

"Fine," he said. "Let them in and let's see what what they want."

Mark looked annoyed. "Harry, the operation is set to begin in just-"

"This'll only take a minute."

With a huff, Dawnson let it go, returning his attention to the desk and their plans.

Not long after, the door opened to admit Neville and Bill, who thanked Harry's assistant before he closed the door.

"Hey guys," he greeted them, receiving smiles in return. They looked good. Neville's scars contrasted wildly with his pleasant smile, giving him a more sinister look, matching Bill's own nicely. As for the eldest Weasley brother, though he hadn't had long hair in over a decade, he still managed to maintain the same confident bearing of his youth. "What are you doing here?"

"Daphne called," Neville explained. "I assigned some classes to my assistant, and here I am."

Harry frowned. "Why are you here?"

It was Bill who answered. "We're not quite sure. She didn't explained when she Floo'd Shell Cottage. Only mentioned that you're about to do something moronic and that we're to come with you under pain of death."

"I see." So that's what Daphne was angling for. "Give me a second, would you?" he asked as he fished in his pockets for the charmed mirror, receiving nods. He walked to a corner of the office, then spoke her name into the mirror.

A few seconds later, his wife's scowling, devastatingly attractive face appeared.

"What?" she said.

"Why'd you bother Neville and Bill? You know I can't take them with me."

"You most certainly can," she argued hotly. "You will either take them with you, or permit me to come. Under no circumstances are you going alone."

Harry let out a sigh. "Daphne-"

"I am serious, Harry," she cut him off. "I will not budge on this matter. If you want to see either of us again, you will comply."

Harry closed his eyes, forcing himself to relax and not instantly lash out at her. He hated being threatened, especially like this and especially by her, but he knew why she did it. He understood that she was only worried about his safety, and expressed it the only way she knew how. He let out a breath, steadying himself, and opened his eyes again.

"Even if I wanted to, I can't."

"Actually ..."

Harry turned his head towards Dawnson with a frown. It was common courtesy not to interrupt someone in the middle of a personal call. The man himself looked a little sheepish, but spoke nonetheless.

"I think you could. They're not affiliated with the Ministry, and are well known as being your close friends. It'd sell the tourist angle, at least."

"See, Harry?" Daphne said instantly, grasping at Dawnson's words and forcing his attention back to her.

"Why them?" Harry asked, trying to buy a few seconds to think. He heard his wife scoff.

"They are the least imbecilic in your immediate circle of friends that I could call. At least of those that could be useful in a hostile environment."

"Psst," he heard Bill whisper to Neville. "I think that was a compliment."

"Yeah?"

Harry shook his head. He searched for words to let her down gently, but her expression stopped him. Determined. Fierce. Angry. Harry knew well how highly she valued her word. If he outright turned her down, she'd make good on her threat.

"I'll explain the situation to them and give them the option of coming," he allowed at last. "I won't force them, and I don't want you upset or demanding anything if they refuse. Alright?"

"That is acceptable. They shall not refuse if they know what is good for them."

"Alright," Harry said, nodding at her. "I love y-"

"Stay alive."

She cut him off briskly, before shutting the mirror connection. Harry let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his head at the embarrassing display.

"I think I made her mad."

The three other men in the room, two of them married, laughed.

"I know that feeling," Bill told him. "She'll get over it."

"How come she convinced you, anyway?" Harry asked him. "Don't you have some half-dozen children to occupy you?"

"Three, I'll have you know. Fleur's looking after them. Daphne can be … persuasive."

"What's going on, Harry?" Neville asked, tone gaining some degree of seriousness.

For the next half-hour, Harry and Mark explained the situation to them, as detailed as time allowed and without revealing anything confidential. All the essential information was shared.

"Harry, it's almost time." Dawnson told him at some point after glancing at a clock. Harry nodded.

"I'll be going then. You take care of the Office until I get back, okay?"

The two men clasped hands.

"You be careful out there. I wish you'd stop doing this."

Harry grinned. "Wouldn't be me if I did."

Dawnson let out a sigh. "I suppose not."

Harry turned to Neville and Bill. "You two coming?"

Both nodded. "Can't let you have all the fun."

He jerked his head towards the door. "Come on then. We have a Portkey to catch. We'll talk on the way."

~H~

Thankfully, the Portkey to Beijing, in the form of a pen, was large enough for all three to hold. The company of Neville and Bill had been communicated before them, but thankfully the Chinese didn't seem to care about them.

All these weeks that Harry spent researching, thinking and experimenting with magic, Dawnson had been hard at work pushing the red tape necessary for Harry to visit the Qing Empire's land. Half of it was spent to wiggle out of being saddled with any number of Chinese escorts. For his own security, supposedly. It wasn't easy, or so Harry was told, but Kingsley eventually confirmed that the Emperor's administration had allowed Harry to travel unsupervised, though he was in no way exempt from the Empire's laws.

That was fine.

Of course, it took a few hours before the three of them could leave Beijing. There were hands to shake, smiles to give, courtesies to follow. Harry politely refused another offer of a guide and a protective detail, citing that he felt perfectly safe and couldn't possibly impose on the good Emperor Kangxi's hospitality and generosity. That got him some frowns, but Kingsley had already seen this fight through, and they let them go without further questions.

Harry Side Alonged Neville and Bill to a few locations, meant mostly to hide their trail to any inquisitive minds. The Chinese suspected that he had a reason for visiting beyond tourism, but they didn't have to know what it was.

They played the role of tourists for the rest of the day, just in case, grabbing dinner and drinks in Shanghai before spending the night in a nice hotel. The next day, after nearly an hour spent properly applying a plethora of charm variations Harry himself had designed, he Apparated everyone to their destination.

Xianyang.

"This place is giving me the creeps," Neville said, and Harry could hear the caution on his tone.

"It's a nice enough area," he said with a shrug, eyes going over the suburban area they were walking through. He had to fight to keep his eyes going at a carefully calculated normal place. Even after all the practice he'd gone through, talking and walking without giving anything away wasn't easy.

There was no time for Neville and Bill to practice with the set of charms, however, and using them without familiarity would not only hinder them, but do so in a rather lethal fashion. Harry had to trust that he wasn't leading them to their deaths.

"That's not what I mean. Just thinking that we're this close to the Army makes me uneasy. Are you sure we're in the right place?"

"We're in the right place," Harry confirmed.

Bill chose that moment to interject. "Speaking of the Terracotta Army, do you think we could make a little detour to the mausoleum, Harry?"

He heard Neville's neck let out a pop, so quickly did it swivel to face the Weasley. "You want to go closer? Are you insane?"

"I'm a curse-breaker," Bill corrected with a grin. "I live for this."

"Well you won't be living for long if you go," Neville grumbled.

"Come on!" Bill insisted. "The Empire doesn't even guard it. We could just stroll in!"

Harry shook his head. "The Empire might not guard the tomb, but make no mistake. The tomb is guarded." The Ministry's Chinese contacts had said that much at least, in fearful whispers and ominous letters.

Bill let out a strangled noise from deep in his throat. "You can't tell me that kinda thing and expect me to not want to go!"

"Fleur would never forgive me if I let you. Besides, we came here for a reason. There's a good chance it'll get you killed, if that's what gets you going."

Bill's long-suffering huff could only be for dramatic effect. "You are the worst fun person I know."

"We're here," Harry said a few minutes later, coming to a halt. They'd left the borders of the town proper.

Neville frowned. "Are you sure? This is it?"

"What do you see?" Harry asked.

"An old warehouse?"

Harry smiled. "Look again. Really look."

For a few seconds silence reigned. Then, twin gasps of surprise.

In the place of an old warehouse, there now stood a massive, ancient estate. Elaborate wooden architecture, delicate, majestic gardens, ponds with colorful fish, the entire deal.

Their awe did not last long, movement drawing their attention. Along the winding cobble path, leading through the garden and the pods and ending at the beautiful gate that marked the edge of the estate, a figure was coming towards them.

They tensed, but whatever it was that they expected, seeing an old lady slowly hobble her way towards them wasn't it. The aged woman wore a beautiful black kimono, her grey hair caught up in a bun with a pair of long, shiny pins, her arms clasped behind her back.

She reached the decorative wooden gate, stopping at the threshold, and regarded them with sharp eyes and a smile. The three men had not moved since noticing the hidden estate.

The woman spoke Chinese, but all had used Translation charms.

"Are you lost, dears?"

Harry looked at her. Really looked at her. "I think we're right where we need to be."

"That is arguable," she replied. "But where are my manners? Would you like to come in for tea?"

"We'll have to respectfully decline," Neville said from his left. "We're looking for someone."

Harry's ability to sense magic had grown over the years, with skill and intuition and experience all factoring. He sensed no veiling magics at play, yet he still had the distinct impression that the old lady in front of him was the young woman who'd attacked him. He could tell from the way she spoke; the same slow, methodical and deliberate intonation. One that he now recognized from experience. Polyjuice, perhaps? He knew for a fact the results of Polyjuice were hidden even to his senses.

"Is that so?"

He shook his head. "Drop the act."

The old lady smiled, and his two friends gave him a look, but didn't question him. She might not look anything like who they thought they were looking for, but both knew that this could be achieved in many ways.

"Am I distressing you?" she wondered. "My apologies."

Then, the strangest thing happened. She changed. Her already hunched form grew shorted, smaller. Her aged face grew taut and smooth. Her clothes shrank with her, her hair turned black and long, free of its pins. Her -now lovely- face dusted over with white makeup and color in her cheeks.

She couldn't look older than twelve.

Harry felt the Transfiguration on the clothes and makeup, but not the complexity required for Human Transfiguration of this magnitude.

The three of them took in the little girl in front of them, who smiled and took a deep bow.

"Is this better?" she wondered. When none replied, she put a finger on suddenly pouting lips. "No?"

Not waiting for a reply, she changed again. She grew taller, wider in places, her clothes and makeup growing with her. Her hair snaked up on its own and pulled itself into a familiar knot, and suddenly Harry was staring at the exact woman who had invaded his home.

His wand slipped into his hand.

"Mister Potter," she said, for the first time addressing him directly. "I have to admit I am surprised to see you here."

"Surrender," Harry said without preamble. "Come quietly and subject yourself to trial on British soil."

She laughed. A soft, becoming sound. Harry had expected something of the sort.

"I am quite sure you have no jurisdiction on my side of the world, Director."

Harry nodded. "That is true. It won't stop me."

One moment her hands were clasped and the next, a long, springy wand was held delicately on her left. Harry saw it slip down her sleeve, but Neville and Bill's eyes widened at the sudden appearance.

"You want to initiate violence with me? I would have thought you wiser than that, Mister Potter. I understand what you've done. The sheer complexity of the charmswork is nothing short of genius, but can you deal with all the sensory input? Can you avoid being distracted by all the sounds and smells and details that you're taking in?"

"I wouldn't be here if I thought otherwise."

Miss Chang smiled again. "Do you really believe your Supersensory is enough to match my time dilation?"

Harry's lips curved in a smile. "Perhaps not," he said. "But it will be closer to a fair fight than before. Tell me, Miss Chang, how do you feel about the prospect of a fair fight against me?"

Silence reigned as the woman processed this.

Eventually, they heard her chuckle. "I have to say, I had not expected such bluntness. Your old master was always so fond of the pleasantries."

Harry itched to ask her more about Albus, but knew that now was not the time.

"Where are the rest of you?"

An arched eyebrow. "I don't follow, dear."

"The others from your group."

She chuckled. "My group is me, Mister Potter."

Harry frowned, considering whether to believe her or not. In the end, it didn't matter. He couldn't sense anyone else nearby right then.

"Why did you do it?" he asked. "You've never antagonized the British Ministry this brazenly before. You should have known that it wouldn't just be forgotten."

"You had something I needed to fulfill my function."

"The file," Harry said, brow furrowed. She nodded.

"Poor Miss Calaghan's disappearance first drew my attention, and I've been looking closely ever since. However, forensics was never my strong suit. I needed the results of your investigation to confirm."

"Confirm what?"

"That this is, indeed, a case for me. I know who your killer is, Mister Potter. If you let me go quietly, I will take care of him. How does that sound?"

"Unacceptable." Harry shook his head. "Tell me," he commanded. "Tell me everything."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"People are dead," he all but yelled, and felt Neville's hand rest on his elbow, grounding him. They knew to let him do the talking, but they were still there and offered what support they could. He took a deep breath, before continuing in a calmer fashion. "And your theft has halted our efforts to stop it. If you think I'll just trust you with this, you're crazy."

Miss Chang watched him, her expression revealing little. Silence reigned for a few seconds.

"Your mentor taught you well, I see."

Harry's confusion must have shown on his face. "What do-"

"Come with me, then," she interrupted him with a smile, her red lips striking against the white of her make-up.

"What do you mean?"

"If you don't trust me to take care of it, come and bear witness. You would need my assistance to reach him, and in this way you stop pointing your wand my way. Profitable for everyone, yes?"

Harry took that in, exchanging a look with his friends. Neville looked tense, but Bill gave him a nod.

Harry extended his senses as further as he could but, beyond the blazing magic of the estate in front of them, felt no other presence in the area.

"They're coming too," he said, jerking his head to the side to indicate his two companions.

"Of course you may bring your friends. Come along, now," she said as stowed away her wand and turned her back to them, starting a steady walk back the way she came, through the grounds and towards the house. The three of them followed closely. Harry considered dropping the combination of charms that kept him hyper-aware, but decided against it.

"Is the murderer using time-travel somehow?" he asked.

"How did you come to that conclusion?"

"A hunch, maybe. The unexpected disappearances, Miss Calaghan's unexplained aging when she was found, and your own organization's single-minded involvement with crimes involving tampering with time."

"Spoken like a proper Auror. Yes, unfortunately you are correct."

"I've never seen time-travel used like that."

"No, I expect you haven't," she said, and to Harry's surprise, her tone wasn't the fake jovial one she'd used so far.

They walked in silence, the traditional wooden house growing much larger the closer they went. The garden and the ponds were breathtaking. By the way Neville was practically salivating, many of these must have been rare.

"You were wrong, you know," he said eventually.

"Regarding what?"

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry replied. "Yes, we were close, but he never taught me magic directly."

Miss Chang turned to him, giving him a knowing look.

"Surely you know that the last thing a man like him had to pass on were magic lessons."

Harry considered her words for a few seconds, memories of his time with the venerable headmaster floating through his mind.

"I suppose," he conceded. "But you don't understand what it was like, back then."

"Explain it to me, then."

"Professor Dumbledore had a plan, one that I learned after his death and followed. This plan was not one I would survive. He knew I had to die, he wasn't grooming me for anything."

She looked at him again, a smile playing on her lips.

"And yet here you are."

Harry shook his head. "He couldn't have known it would turn out like this. That was a fluke."

"Knowledge and hope are two different things, Mister Potter, but each one powerful in their own way. Old Albus had a function to perform, as surely as I do, and he hoped you'd take over for him once he was gone." She winked at him. "I think he would be proud of you, yes?"

Harry said nothing else, this much already being a lot to swallow. They reached the house in the next few steps but, rather than be let inside, Miss Chang led them around, following the patio as they circled around the mansion.

"I would offer you tea, but I'm afraid time does not permit. We leave immediately."

Neville looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow. With a burst of focus, Harry extended his senses again. Nothing. He gave a slight nod, which seemed to be enough for Neville.

Miss Chang's slow steps led them down from the patio into another, smaller path. After winding around a few colorful bushes, the path stopped in front of a small, circular wooden construction. It reminded Harry of a gazebo or a shrine, but its wooden surfaces were solid and there was a door at the front.

Harry felt … something, from inside. No single presence exactly, but there was magic in there for sure, of a kind he couldn't quite place. It pulled and pushed and twisted, like a maelstrom. He was surprised he hadn't felt that from the road.

Miss Chang extended a hand to open it, before pausing, hand frozen in the air as if struck by a sudden thought. "Mm, I know," she murmured before retracting the hand and turning to look at him. "You go in first, Mister Potter."

He felt Bill's strong hand on his shoulder as the taller man took a step forward. "Not a chance," the Weasley said, brow creased.

"You go first," Neville said in turn, looking at Miss Chang with narrowed eyes.

"Relax, dears. This is no trap. In there is our, shall we say, ride. It differs from person to person, and I was merely curious."

"Well then-"

"It's fine, Neville," Harry cut him off, turning his head to give his friend a nod. "It'll be fine."

Neville's lips were a thin line, but he gave a sharp nod of his own and said nothing else.

Nothing for it. Harry walked forward, pushing the door gently open; and walked into the light.

~H~

Harry took slow steps into the vast expanse around him. A place so gigantic it wouldn't even fit into the entire grounds of Miss Chang's property, let alone the small closed-off gazebo.

He knew this place. It was different, but he knew it. He'd been here before.

He heard the others slowly follow him, passing through the doorway of light and stepping into the platform, eyes immediately roving around in curiosity, taking in the bright gray and near stark-white surfaces.

"A train station," he heard Miss Chang deadpan from behind him. "Your idea of a gateway that crosses the realms of time and space is a train station. How … English."

"This is amazing," he heard Neville murmur, and it was. Harry's memory of the last time he'd seen this version of King's Cross had been faint and no matter how he'd tried, he couldn't pull it out for use in a Pensieve. Still, seeing it now, again, he remembered everything.

"It's empty," Bill noted.

"Indeed," chimed Miss Chang, coming to a stop next to Harry. "How are we supposed to get anywhere like this, Mister Potter? Follow the tracks?"

"We're in a train station, you say," Harry replied, a smile playing on his lips. "I think if we so desire, we'll be able to board a train."

No sooner had he finished his sentence than a train materialized at the edge of the visible tracks, where the light's intensity grew and obscured further vision. It wasn't a steamer like the Hogwarts Express, either. It was one of those fancy smooth and sleek ones Harry would see in recent years but hadn't actually boarded yet.

The train slid silently along the tracks, coming to a smooth stop in front of them. A door opened.

Harry turned, smiling at the woman next to him. "Shall we?"

They all climbed aboard, finding the interior colored the same white, with long lines of comfortable-looking seats until the end of the wagon.

The door slid closed behind them.

"Now what?" Neville asked when nothing happened.

"This is where Mister Potter's involvement ends," Miss Chang replied, hands hidden inside her sleeves. "Despite this being his version of the Vortex, it still needs me to operate it."

"Shouldn't we be heading for the driver's car then?" Bill questioned.

"This is a metaphor," Miss Chang replied. "We don't have to actually be in the driver's seat for it to work. But I suppose there's no harm in it, is there?"

They moved along the walkways and through wagons until they reached the first one, opening the door and letting themselves into the driver's control room. Neville and Bill took two seats at the back, while Miss Chang and Harry sat by the instruments.

Upon taking the driver's seat, Miss Chang instantly began pulling levers and pushing buttons, seemingly at random.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Harry asked.

"Remember, Mister Potter. This is a metaphor."

As if to confirm her words, the train began to noiselessly slide forward, picking up speed until it reached the edge of the station and plunged right into the near-solid wall of white light at the end of the visible tracks.

After that, Harry still felt the very light jostling of the train's movement, but all they could see outside the windows was white.

"How long will it take to get there?" he wondered after perhaps fifteen minutes.

"You are the one who manifested a train, Mister Potter," Miss Chang reminded him, sounding irritated. "You should know that it's not the fastest mode of transportation."

Harry didn't ask again.

"You mentioned you know who the killer is."

"I did."

"Tell me more."

Miss Chang gave a sharp nod, though she didn't turn to look at him. "You were right, earlier. He's using time-travel to forcibly bring his victims to the past. Miss Calaghan was no fluke."

"Who is he?"

He sees her expression harden, made all the more severe by the make-up.

"I will not say."

Harry exhales. "Miss Chang, if we're to work together-"

"I understand what you're saying, Mister Potter. I want to cooperate, but his name I will not share."

"Why not?"

"No one will know him. No one will think about him. After his death he will be forgotten, as if he never existed. I will not name him."

Harry processed this for a minute, noting the sheer fury laced in her tone. This was more than a duty; this was personal.

"How does he do it, then?" he asked instead. "Our Ministry's research division is quite capable, but nothing we're aware of could yield such controlled trips so far back."

Her face turns to him momentarily, just long enough to give him an irritated glance.

"Save me your Auror needling, Mister Potter. You already have a theory. Share it so I might confirm."

"Your method is the first time I've heard of time-travel of this scale being possible," Harry notes. "It's not unreasonable that the killer is using the same or a similar one."

"And what do you conclude?"

"You taught him."

Silence reigned for a minute.

"Not … exactly," she finally admitted. "Yes, he appears to be using a bastardized copy of the Vortex, but I did not teach him directly."

"How did it happen, then?"

"He … he has spent long years by my side," she said and Harry noted how strongly she was gripping the lever in front of her, how tightly her jaw was set. "He must have been slowly studying it, while I was unaware. One day, he wasn't there. I had assumed that he simply left. Not … this."

"And then you found out about the murders?"

She nodded. "It was then that I realized what had really happened. So you see, Mister Potter, I have a personal stake in seeing this case coming to a permanent close."

Harry digested this. "What is his goal?" he asked. "Why is he kidnapping and killing people?"

She looked at him then, giving him a strange look with pursed lips.

"He has always fancied himself a researcher," she said, "a pioneer in pushing our understanding of magic further. But he was too careless, the safety of his subjects always the least of his priorities. The Emperor himself removed him from service and destroyed his facility. He claimed to have reformed, seen the error of his ways … and I believed him. Like a fool, I believed him."

"Human experimentation?" Harry heard Neville mutter from behind him, horrified. He shared the sentiment.

They finally had everything they needed to paint a clear picture of what had happened. All that was missing was the killer's name. Then again … they were heading there to witness Miss Chang end the threat she'd created. Perhaps her wish that he remain unnamed was one Harry could respect, considering the degree of personal involvement. He didn't technically have official jurisdiction here, after all.

~H~

They arrived in a storm of fire and lightning. Literally.

From the endless whiteness of before, the train seemed to pass some sort of boundary before bursting back into the world, though not without resistance. For the first time in their journey they had to hold on as the train bucked, threatening to throw them from their seats as it fought to stay level. From the window panels they could see fire, coming to life all along the length of the train and trailing behind it, flashes of lightning and the echoes of thunder breaking the monotony of the earlier silence.

Harry did not speak to Miss Chang, for he could see her expression locked in concentration as she struggled to control the train's mad spinning and turning. He noticed how high they were, followed quickly by the realization that they were losing altitude; and quickly. They were dropping fast and wildly enough that Harry couldn't distinguish the blue of the sky from that of the ocean.

Their loss of control ended as unexpectedly as it arrived, the train righting itself moments before presumably crashing into the water. They flew, a hundred or so meters above the serene surface of the ocean, and Harry took the reprieve to control his breathing.

"My apologies for the turbulence," Miss Chang broke the silence. "Going backwards was easy enough, but going sideways is always the tricky part."

Harry felt more than saw Bill's grin and turned to glare at the redhead. That was enough for him to close his mouth and swallow whatever crude remark he was no doubt about to say, but not enough to stop him from wagging his eyebrows suggestively. Harry snorted.

"There," Miss Chang announced, drawing their attention to a tiny speck of land, visible down below. Everywhere else Harry looked, nothing but endless blue met his gaze.

The train gently set down on the surface of the water, the driver's car breaking through the relatively small ways and carving its way through as it approached the island. The transition from water to sand was seamless and the train came to a halt, spread out along the beach.

They filed outside, eager to leave the train's confines.

"Where are we?" Bill wondered, looking around. The beach went on, looping around after a few hundred meters, vegetation starting at a hill maybe fifty meters in, obscuring vision deeper into the island.

"Somewhere in the Mediterranean, I would say," Neville responded, looking critically at the trees and the rocks that were lining the beach.

"When are we?" Harry asked.

From his side, Miss Chang responded. "August 17th, the year of your calendar 737."

"Is this where the killer is hiding?"

She nodded.

"Those are some impressive compulsion charms," Bill noted, wand in hand. "Muggles won't be approaching this place for miles."

Harry had felt them, too. The island was blanketed by charms. As Bill said, this place would never be found by mundane people, and no wizard would have reason to look for it in the middle of the ocean.

More importantly, whoever had set up the protections had been expecting company.

"He knows we're here," Harry said, looking at the woman by his side.

"Of course. He knew this was inevitable."

"There have to be traps set up."

"No doubt. Feel free to stay by the train while I take care of it."

Harry said nothing, only fell into step beside her as she started heading further into the island, entering the vegetation and heading in a straight line, as if she knew where she was going. They'd seen the entirety of the island from above though. It wasn't that big, so whatever they were looking for couldn't really hide.

Among the trees, they did encounter a few magical traps. Nothing particularly imaginative and with Bill and himself there, most of them didn't even go off. A few tongues of flames and delayed explosions blew harmlessly while they stood a safe distance away. Some cursed trees were destroyed before they were anywhere close enough for their enchanted limbs to reach for them.

Their march went mostly unmolested.

"Guys," Neville said, half an hour after their arrival, "I think we found it."

The rest of them turned and joined Neville where he was, in a small opening between rocks and trees.

Through it, they could see the forestation clear. There, on the top of a small hill, was a tower, its base built like a small fortress. Harry turned to Miss Chang, an eyebrow raised.

"We're here," she confirmed. "He always did have a flair for the dramatic."

"Do we just walk right up to it?"

A small frown marred her features. "Let's get a bit closer, but stay behind me. There's something off."

The three of them followed her suggestion, walking slowly behind her as she made her way towards the tower, wand in hand.

Perhaps two dozen paces from the wooden gate, she stopped.

"I see," she said.

"What is it?"

"He created a small pocket in time. A bubble, if you will, inside which time flows according to his whims."

"I assume walking into that would be bad for us."

"Astute observation, Mister Weasley. Now, hang back a bit, I'm going to bring it down."

Harry, who had never before heard of such a thing being possible, deferred to the expert and took a few steps back. Miss Chang's arms rose, her wand swaying gently this way and that, brief golden sparkles emitting from its tip. Harry's Supersensory, long since dialed down to its base form, caught the faint chanting she took up and his eyes followed the path of her wand.

A minute or so later, the tower shuddered. It shimmered, gaining a sheen to it before fading, reverting back to its original appearance. Miss Chang sagged slightly, letting out a heavy exhale.

"Is it done?" he asked.

"Yes. Let us head in and end this farce."

She wasn't even trying to make her tone civil at this point, but Harry didn't comment on it. This was personal to the Chinese woman, and there was nothing he could say that would calm her.

They approached the gate that, to Harry's senses, wasn't magically trapped. A wave of Miss Chang's wand saw it opened, darkness revealed from inside.

Without hesitation the four of them walked on, crossing the boundary, their steps now echoing against the solid stone floor.

Behind them the gate closed of its own accord, plunging them in total darkness. Four wands lit up, bathing the corridor in light.

Miss Chang sucked in a breath, drawing Harry's attention.

"What is it?"

"A double layer," she replied. "He is … more devious than I anticipated. He's negated time alterations within the bounds of his tower. I can't bring it down while in its effect. My time-dilation is nullified, too."

Harry could tell, because her speech had lost its forced quality. She no longer had to calculate while speaking at high speed so that it would sound normal to other people. Her trump card was gone.

He turned to look at the closed gate. It shone brightly to his eyes, magic flowing into it from the walls all around, strengthening it and making sure it remained closed. Breaking it open would be tough without finding the source of the enchantment, but not impossible.

"Sounds like you were expected," Bill mirrored his thoughts.

"No matter," Miss Chang growled, her grip on her wand tightening.

"He's planned for you," Neville warned. "Maybe you should rethink your strategy."

"Enough talk," she ground out, beginning to walk further down the corridor. "Stay here if you're so worried."

Harry shared a look with Neville and Bill and shook his head, before opening his stride to catch up to Miss Chang. He didn't quite trust her, and he didn't owe her anything, but their interests were aligned for now. This man, who had stolen secrets of time better left forgotten, could not be allowed free reign.

They broke into a hall, of sorts. It wasn't particularly big, nor furnished. A few closed doors lined the walls while stairs led higher into the tower. The only notable feature were the massive support columns that lined the area.

"What do you sense, Mister Potter?"

Harry closed his eyes for a second.

"There's someone casting magic on the floor above," he revealed. "And there's nine more people arrayed around him. Weak and faint, but they're there."

Perhaps a ritual of some sort? The equidistant placement of the weaker presences wasn't lost on Harry, who had seen enough in his time as an Auror to get a sinking feeling then.

"I think we found the missing people," Neville murmured.

"Come," Miss Chang commanded, taking the stairs. They followed.

The door at the top was unlocked. What they found on this floor made Harry's fists clench.

Lining nearly every available surface were shelves, workbenches, or machinery the use for which Harry could not imagine. A far cry from the abandoned ground floor, this space was used and filled to the max.

Strapped to grotesque bonds of metal and wood lay the victims, naked, injured and bleeding.

In the middle of the floor, amid the support column, was the man. The first thing Harry noticed about him was his attire. A black long-sleeved shirt lay beneath an apron that had at one point been white. Now it was anything but, covered with grime and blood, some of it dry while some still dripping from its edges.

The warlock himself must at some point have been handsome, judging by his angular characteristics and physique, but he'd apparently let himself go. His dark, greying hair and beard were dirty, unkempt and uncut.

As soon as they entered, the man smiled, revealing yellowing teeth.

"I knew you'd come sooner or later, my dear."

"Do not call me that," Miss Chang hissed, the hand holding her wand trembling with fury. "Never call me that."

The man cocked his head to the side. "You used to like it so. What changed? Have I been remiss in sending letters? As you can see, I'm not seeing anyone. This is merely work. The company can get rather … stale."

"Harry," Neville whispered, leaning close to him. "We need to help these people. They're badly hurt."

Harry nodded. He knew that, but he hadn't made a move yet because he didn't know what these contraptions they were strapped on where, only that they were thrumming with an energy that gave him goosebumps.

"Try to get them down, once it starts," he replied in an equal whisper, receiving a quick nod.

He turned his attention to Miss Chang and the warlock, who hadn't stopped their conversation.

"... and by my authority as Miss Chang, this madness ends now," the Chinese woman was saying.

"Authority?" the man replied with a chuckle. "You have no authority but the one you claim for yourself. How cruel and arrogant of you and everyone before you. You've hoarded so many secrets, so much knowledge- and for what? What have you done with it? Nothing."

"The scope of my purpose is beyond your understanding. Evidently."

"I never bought that lie!" the man barked back. "And now I have the results to prove it! You came to stop me? You won't. See for yourself; witness what I have achieved with the knowledge you so selfishly stole and hoarded!"

As he spoke his wand hand rose, and several things happened at once.

Miss Chang took a step forward, arm and wand extended, fully intending to curse the man- but stopped. She turned her head to look at the trapped woman to her right, who was suddenly writhing, mouth open in a silent scream even as her eyes stared straight forward without moving.

With a start, Harry realized that the same thing was happening to all the victims that had been lodged on the metal contraptions. They were straining against their bonds soundlessly, but evidently in great pain.

In front of each of the victims, whose thrashing was ceasing as quickly as it had appeared, the air blurred. In the small spaces in which reality appeared to warp, figures appeared.

Copies of the man, nine in total, exactly the same and each with a wand in hand, appeared, one in front of each of the bound people.

"What have you done?" Miss Chang's quiet words sounded eerily clear in the loaded silence. Harry turned to her, shocked at the look of utter horror and revulsion on her painted face.

"You madman," she whispered, as if in disbelief. "What have you done?"

"Look! Look what I can do!" the warlock replied, excited. "An infinitesimal fraction of a second from my future or past from which I pull myself to the present. And the best part, I can do that however many times I want! The loss of a moment here and there is nothing! You could never do that, but I could. All I needed was-"

"Harry!" Neville sounded from his left, alarm and panic in his voice. "They're dying!"

Neville's frantic yell broke the tense and momentary stalemate. Miss Chang snarled, unleashing a spell towards the man and interrupting his raving. Instantly, the nine copies also opened fire, and chaos erupted.

It was all Harry could do to cover Neville in his mad dash towards the closest bound person, a few meters in front of him, shielding him from several of the copies who had decided to attack them. All around, spells whizzed, shields flared and explosions rocked the building as Miss Chang attacked the original man and Bill did his best to distract as many of the others as he could.

Neville himself was firing off spells blindly from his wand as he run, until he finally reached a bound man, half-hiding behind the machine while frantically checked for vital signs.

Harry knew it was pointless. From the moment Neville had shouted, he'd known his friend was wrong. Those people weren't dying; they were dead already. Whatever the man had done to allow him to bring time-traveling versions of himself here, it had cost these people their lives.

He swung his wand to the right in a jerky, wide motion. Instantly, one of the men advancing on them was blown off his feet, span in mid-air before smashing back down on the ground and hitting his head at an angle. From the crack, Harry knew the man was dead.

His eyes instantly flew to the original, still locked in a furious duel with miss Chang, who was flinging curses both magical and verbal.

The man was still there. The death of his future or past self had not affected him in any way. Harry could have maybe accepted that by saying that the one who died was the future him, but then he saw Bill levitate a workbench and smash it into another copy in a vivid display of gore, and knew that not to be true.

Whatever the man had done, he had broken the cardinal rule of time-travel, its one constant; the loop.

He had no more time to think though, as Neville was joining the fight in earnest now and he no longer had to focus on protecting him. There were copies of the man everywhere Harry looked, moving around the support columns, coming at them from all sides.

Harry blocked a barrage of spells coming his way, curses and hexes that he recognized, before sending a single of his own out. It pierced right through the shimmering shield the copy in front of him erected before lodging itself into and through the man's chest.

Off to his right, the two copies that were assaulting Bill were making the entire tower shake with their endless barrage of exploding curses. Bill would deflect them or hide behind supports for cover, but they took out huge chunks off the walls and columns.

The fight seemed to turn in their favor after Neville's transfigured rat swarm brought down another copy in a cacophony of pitiful screams, but then time seemed to still.

Harry felt what was about to happen a split-second before it did.

Miss Chang, too absorbed in her duel with the original warlock, wasn't able to turn in time to shield herself against the pair of spells sent towards her by two of the copies across the room. The bolts of light slammed into the Chinese woman's side, blasting her off her feet and slamming her against the nearest stone column with enough force to shatter it. The column came down in pieces, bringing a good chunk of the ceiling down with it, obscuring Harry's vision of the scene with debris and a sudden cloud of dust.

"No!" he screamed and slashed his wand, but was too late. His curse took a man in the abdomen and cleaved right through him at the same time as Neville's fire-whip curled around another's throat, but they could not prevent the assault on Miss Chang.

A frustrated swipe of his wand scattered the dust cloud, revealing the carnage. Miss Chang was lost, buried under the rubble, the only visible part of her being her left arm, shoulder and head. Her wand lay discarded an inch away from her unmoving hand, and blood was pooling around her. Her makeup had been ruined, distorting her pained expression further. The wooden pins holding her bun aloft had been lost, her now disheveled hair fanning around her like a macabre curtain.

Harry had no more time to look at his fallen ally, as two of the remaining men had turned towards him. Seething, he turned his wand to them.

The battle didn't last long after that. Harry and Neville made short work of the remaining copies on their side, and Bill finally ended the string of explosions one copy favored when he deflected one of the man's curses back to him.

The ceiling groaned, stones dislodging and falling regularly. All around them, most of the support columns had been destroyed, and several parts of the wall were missing. Harry did not let the tilting of the floor hinder him as he advanced on the original man. The killer's eyes were gleaming, a crazed look in his eyes and a satisfied smile on his face even as he spewed obscenities at Harry and his friends.

A jerk of Harry's wand deflected the hasty cutting curse the madman sent his way.

Another saw the man's wand flying out of his hand, much to his sudden anger.

Harry was now no more than five meters away. The man took a step forward, perhaps hoping for physical violence, but Harry did not give him the chance. With a furious snarl he snapped his wand forward, blasting the man back and slamming him against the wall. He slid to the floor in a heap, pained and injured; but alive.

Harry aimed his wand at the man, who was lifted off the ground. All around them, the man's had-beens and could-have-beens lay bleeding and dead.

"Harry," Bill said from his side, looking tired and unnerved but thankfully uninjured. "The place is coming apart. We need to move."

It was all Harry could do to keep his voice level when he spoke, addressing the floating and helpless murderer.

"You are under arrest," he said. "For your crimes, you will be taken to British soil and subjected to trial. Then-"

A voice spoke up then, interrupting him. "A-arrest?" he heard it croak out. Harry didn't recognize the voice, so pained and distorted was it. He snapped his head to the right, eyes widening as he took in Miss Chang's broken form. Most of her body was lost under the rubble, but she was still hanging on by the skin of her teeth.

Her wand was held in badly shaking fingers and her head was lifted a few centimeters from the ground. Even covered in blood, grime and dirty make-up, she stared painfully at the man who had stolen and corrupted her life's work, before claiming her own life as well.

"Trial?" she spat, a globule of blood leaving her mouth with the word. "No … I … I won't allow it!"

Her shaky fingers raised the wand and with surprising strength, turned it towards the murderer's floating form. Fire spewed forth from the magical focus; hungry, eager purple flames that snaked around Harry and attached themselves to the man's legs, slowly climbing upward even as his screaming began.

"I name you; deceiver," Miss Chang thundered, with strength Harry wouldn't have attributed to someone with smashed lungs.

"I name you; betrayer!" she shouted again as the flames reached the man's neck. Harry could see the man's flesh blacken and shrivel in places, melt and drip in others.

"And I curse you to burn, from this day till the end of time!"

Harry lowered his wand but the man stayed afloat, now entirely covered in the wicked purple flame. His agonized screams permeated the room as the inferno ate away at his body, revealing the gleaming bone beneath.

Even as Harry watched, some of his flesh knit itself back together, only to be melted off again. The man's bones flickered in and out of sight as the fire fought with whatever it was Miss Chang had done that was keeping the man alive and repairing his body.

"Harry!" Neville shouted in his ear and only then did Harry realized that his friend was gripping his arm like a vice. "This place is coming down. We have to go!"

And it was true. The rumbling was getting worse. Dust and stones were falling from the ceiling. The remaining support columns were quickly gaining spidery cracks along their lengths, unable to hold.

Harry's eyes turned away from both his friend and the burning man, instead searching and finding Miss Chang's green pair looking back at him.

Her wand had been dropped and her hand was open, fingers extended his way, reaching. Her expression had lost its fury, now left only with a pleading look, made all the more terrible by blood and grime and what remained of her makeup.

Harry reached her in a few long strides, kneeling down and taking her hand in both of his own. His eyes flit around the rocks, panicked. Only part of Miss Chang's upper body was visible, along with her head and left arm. The rest of her was smashed to a pulp under the weight of the partially collapsed upper floor.

Nothing that Harry knew, nothing that he could do, would possibly save her now. He turned pleading eyes to Neville and Bill, who only returned looks as helpless as his own must have been.

"Look … at me."

His eyes snapped back to the dying woman in front of him. The pool of blood had stopped expanding.

Her hand dislodged from his own and reached up, taking hold of the nape of his neck as he lay hunched over, pulling him further down until his forehead bumped against hers.

From this close, he could hear her agonized breathing as whatever remained of her lungs tried to suck in air and coughed out blood.

Her hand left his neck, picking up her wand again and bringing its badly shaking end to her temple. Her eyes scrunched shut for a second before opening again with a sudden gasp.

The wand tip left her temple, trailing an ethereal white thread with it. With a swift move, the wand tip connected to Harry's own temple, who let all this happen in confusion.

"Take … it," she wheezed amid difficult, short breaths. "Take it all. Learn … understand. It falls … to you now, Mister Potter. Find … find Miss Chang. Teach her."

A flash of determination in that pair of green eyes. Red blood was making its way there, too, snaking its way into the whites of her eyes.

"Promise me," she insisted with another hacking breath.

"I promise," Harry managed to whisper, mind nearly overcome with the current assaulting his mind. Memories, experiences, knowledge, things he'd never known or imagined and could barely begin to comprehend all flooding into him.

Then Miss Chang could no longer hold her hand up, dropping it with another shuddering breath.

"Go," she said at last, her resigned voice almost too weak to be heard over the cacophony of the collapsing tower, even though they stood barely centimeters apart.

Her hand lay down and her head lowered itself to flush against the dust-covered floor. Neither moved again.

Harry stood frozen, reeling from her sudden death and from the influx of foreign information that he didn't know what to do with.

"Harry!" Bill's shout broke through his daze as he felt two pairs of strong hands grab both his arms around the shoulders and jerk him to his feet. "We have to go!"

"This tower is coming apart!"

Harry wanted to move, but found that he couldn't, still grappling to distinguish his own memories and mind from those of Miss Chang, who'd shared an enormous part of her life with him.

He knew her name now.

He registered his friends dragging him out of the room, his last look of it a vision of the murderer, still screaming and burning and screaming, even as his tower collapsed around him. Neville and Bill dragged him down through the stairs, going as fast as they could, before making a run for the exit which seemed to only resist a little before being blown off its hinges, revealing their escape.

The two managed to get him out and not a moment too soon, as the tower finally collapsed, losing all coherence as it dropped in on itself, blowing dust and debris everywhere. A quick shield from Neville protected them.

Harry did not register his friends continue to drag him away, too far lost inside his own head.

When he next emerged, he opened his eyes to the shiny white ceiling of what he recognized as train they'd used to get here.

He rose shakily to a sitting position. The bed had been comfortable, and his body felt rejuvenated. The raging whirlwind inside his mind had abated to an intense headache.

He made his way to the driver's wagon. Neville and Bill looked up, relief evident in their faces.

"Hey mate. You gave us a scare."

"How long was I out?"

"An hour or two. Kinda hard to tell in here, if I'm honest."

Harry nodded as he let his body drop on one of the drivers' seats. He let out a heavy breath, bringing his hands up to rub at his eyes under his glasses.

"Harry, not to sound rude," Bill began from behind him "but do you know how to drive this thing? Because if not, we're kind of stuck here."

Harry removed his hands from his eyes, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. For the first time, he took careful stock of the equipment around him.

He didn't know what any of this did. Not really.

But it didn't matter.

"I do," he replied with a nod, wincing as dozens, hundreds of Miss Chang's memories rose, providing him with an understanding he wouldn't be able to put into words.

His hands reached out, pushing buttons and levers at random.

"It's all a metaphor, after all," he added as an afterthought.

The train lurched into movement.

~H~

Returning to the island, days after making their rather clumsy way back to their own time, turned out to be as simple as Apparating to it.

Harry hadn't thought it possible at first, but Neville suggested it and he found that he couldn't really disagree with the idea. They had been to the place, even if it had been hundreds of years ago. In theory, unless the islands was unrecognizable now, it should work.

Thankfully it did, and the three of them appeared on the beach with a pair of cracks and a pop. He'd considered taking the train, but still didn't trust his landings.

Looking around, he immediate difference they noticed was that the island was devoid of vegetation of any kind. It was now entirely comprised of rock, dry soil and sand. The compulsion charms still held; no Muggle had ever known this place existed.

"I've tried looking this place up in the last week," Bill noted as they made their way up the hill to the crumbled remains of the once-tall tower. "I found nothing. If anyone ever found this place, they didn't share."

That was just as well, to Harry, who took to clearing the debris in silence, magically lifting tonne after tonne of stone. Neville and Bill helped him.

There was no remnant of the woman who had troubled him so, these last few weeks, nor the victims. Nothing left. She was completely gone to the passage of time, but she still remained in his mind. Harry Potter would remember Miss Chang.

He understood the scope of her purpose, now. It was right there in his mind, the way the previous Miss Chang had explained it to him. To her.

His senses picked up something else. Something that brought a frown to his face.

"Help me on this side," he instructed as they redirected their clearing efforts.

After a few more moved pieces of rubble, they saw it.

The murderer was little more than a skeleton with bits and pieces of muscle and flesh hanging on. He was still burning, faint purple embers slowly and lazily dancing along the surface of his body. There was enough flesh around his neck for him to able to clearly form pitiful moans of pain, half broken pleading and half incoherent screams.

Even now, after over a thousand years, he was still burning.

Harry stared down at the broken, pathetic shell of a man in contemplation. A long, silent minute passed.

"What do we do with him, Harry?" Neville asked softly, from his left. Harry pursed his lips.

He wanted to leave the man there. To pretend he never saw him and let him burn. Rather, to make sure no one ever found this place, muggle or wizard, and let the cursed wretch suffer for the rest of eternity. It would be … satisfying.

Harry let out a sigh, shaking his head, before turning to look to his right.

"Bill?" he asked. "Think there's something we can do?"

The Weasley nodded. "Let me run some diagnostics, and then I'll explain."

It took them a few hours to work out exactly how to break the curse that was keeping the murderer alive and burning. To break one was to break the other, but Harry had no qualms there. He would set the man free, but owed him nothing beyond that.

They watched as the purple flames slowly petered out, vanishing slowly and pitifully. Now, lying against the broken pieces of his tower, the collection of bones and burned flesh that had once been a man opened one half-formed eye to look at Harry, surprisingly lucid after a millennium of torture.

"Thank … you..." the man wheezed with his final breath as whatever magic was anchoring his soul to his broken body was lifted and his spirit was finally released to depart from the realm of the living.

Harry got to his feet, running a hand through his hair as he considered the merits of burying, cremating or even simply Vanishing the remains.

In the end he decided that no, he shouldn't do any of that. That would give the dead wretch acknowledgment, which he deserved to no degree. Harry would honor Miss Chang's wishes.

It took them a few minutes to make a small memorial in her memory and say a prayer. On it, Harry scratched the woman's real name and her date of birth. After that, the three of them sat down on the beach, taking in the sunset on the horizon, each one lost in their thoughts.

"What happens now?" Neville asked at some point, breaking the silence and drawing Harry's attention. His friend looked troubled, in a way.

Harry considered the question. A memory flashed through his mind. One of his own.

He turned to look at the horizon again, a sad smile finding its way to his lips.

"There's someone I have to find."

~Fin~