Chapter Seven

Belated Happy New Year, my lovelies! This chapter was beta-ed by Nothinglikeyou.

No sooner than Peregrine had uttered the word 'handkerchiefs', he swept out of the room with no further comment, his jaw set.

Harry didn't call after him. He would be back.

The room fell silent, save for the muffled metallic clattering of silverware in drawers and china tea sets jittering on shelves whenever the house vibrated. Then–

"You have got to be kidding me," said Hermione angrily, scrambling around to gather the contents of her pack off the floor and shoving them back into her bag. "Goddamn handkerchiefs, next thing you know pigs will be flying…"

"Pigs can fly," interjected Ron, still craning his neck to watch the Death Eaters outside the house. "Haven't you heard of pigasi?"

"Oh, excellent, pigasi!" Hermione snapped, snatching Tales from Beyond from Ron's hands and cramming it back into her pack, but not before throwing him a filthy look. "Is that plural for pigasus? Surely you can come up with something more original than that–"

"I'm not making it up," said Ron defensively, averting his attention from the offensive group for a split second. "I thought everyone knew about pigasi, haven't you heard the fairy tale about the rabbit and the–"

"I'm Muggle-born, Ronald!" Hermione all but howled. "I do not know the fairy tale about the rabbit and the bloody pigasus!"

"WE'VE GOT A BIGGER ISSUE AT HAND!" Harry bellowed over the argument that boiled explosively to life. He braced his back against the wall, widening his stance to prevent himself from losing his footing. It seemed as though the Death Eaters were aiming even stronger spells at them than before, causing increasingly violent convulsions across the property.

"Remarkably astute observation, Hardwin," said Peregrine, somehow managing to glide back into the room despite the tremors, a moderately-sized trunk in hand.

"What's that?" Harry asked, zeroing in on his luggage.

"Emergency getaway starter pack. If I could offer any advice to young vigilantes such as yourselves, I would say to always keep one on hand. You never know when those bastards will catch up to you." Peregrine tilted his chin up imperiously as he moved towards the window Ron was stationed by. Harry caught his arm as he passed.

"Care to actually explain how they caught up to us?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"I told you already – handkerchiefs!" Peregrine wrenched out of his grip with surprising strength, a bite of impatience in his voice.

"You're telling me it was actually bugged?" Harry exchanged a disbelieving glance with Ron. "How could you have possibly known that? If you knew, why didn't you do something earlier?"

"Oh, Hardwin, please don't tell me you're one of those people who become an amoeba in high pressure situations. That's terribly boring," said Peregrine, briefly rapping his knuckles against Harry's forehead. "Don't forget to use that wondrous organ stored within your skull."

Harry swiped his hand away, scowling.

"Let's see… I didn't know that handkerchief had a tracking spell embedded in it," Peregrine continued, skidding the rest of the distance to the window to peer outside. "I was merely suspicious. Suspicion is how I'm still a free man today. And I did take precautions earlier on. I set up a protective barrier around us, didn't I? I would say that's sufficient. It should hold until we make our getaway."

Outside, the Death Eaters had evidently spotted Peregrine and Ron through the window. Harry could hear excited shouts of 'Fjord!' and 'Potter found him!'. Peregrine stuck his middle finger up, displaying exceptional maturity for his age. The Death Eaters began spitting curses. When Peregrine turned back to face the room, his wizened face was stretched into a shit-eating grin. Ron looked begrudgingly amused.

"But that would mean they've been tracking our progress across the country the entire time," said Harry, far from done with his questioning. "It doesn't add up. You-Know-Who could have sent a group at any time to ambush us, why would he wait until we'd already found– ah."

"Snapped out of your amoeba state?" asked Peregrine briskly. "Excellent, I do prefer to keep intelligent company."

"After he realised what we were doing, he was waiting for us to find each other… then he'd have all of us backed into a corner… two birds with one stone, eh, Tom?" Harry shook his head but was unable to stifle the dark chuckle that left his lips.

"Or four," offered Ron unhelpfully while Hermione continued seething in the corner of the room, hoisting her pack onto her back and indicating that Harry and Ron do the same.

"Unfortunately for him," said Peregrine, a mad gleam in his eye, "the Dark Lord underestimated us. He always did regard himself as above the rest of us, we were mere pawns on the chessboard of his game, brainless puppets to his puppeteer. Arrogance will be his downfall."

There was a soft crackling noise overhead, outside, all around, as if someone had found a crack in hard plaster and was lifting it away in large flakes. The protective barrier was crumbling.

"We need to get out of here now," Hermione said, securing her pack to her back and whipping her head around to direct a hard stare at Peregrine. "Are you able to help us head back or not?"

"Fortunately for you," said Peregrine as the ground shook beneath their feet again and their ears were filled with the splintering sound of the weakening shield, "you're in the presence of the only wizard with the ability to send you back into a fluid past – that is, a past in which the timeline is malleable. A past in which you are able to create a new reality, unlike the Tempus Charm you experienced. But you need to make a choice right now. You can all go back right now, or you can wait."

His knuckles were white around the handle of his trunk.

"Right now is the obvious choice, isn't it?" said Hermione, glancing at Harry and Ron for their input. Ron was nodding along in agreement, but Harry's eyes were upon Peregrine's pale knuckles.

"What's the catch?" he asked.

Peregrine's mouth quirked upwards and he shook his head.

"I can never get anything past you, can I?" he murmured. "I don't know what you plan on doing in the past, though I have a good guess, but I presume you'll be wanting to return to the current year after your business is complete?"

"Yes," said Hermione, surging forwards so that she was level with Harry, gripping his arm so hard that it hurt. "Is that not a viable option?"

"It's possible," said Peregrine, after a lengthy pause. "There may be an issue, however. I'll try to explain as briefly as possible. One of the points I did not address in Tales from Beyond is the requirement for a medium. A medium is the gatekeeper of the bridge between time. No one but the chosen medium can send you back in time and bring you forward again. Not only that, but the ritual can only be properly performed in a location that has been appropriately prepared. There is currently one such location beneath our feet at this very instant. I prepared my basement for this when I first moved in here. Unfortunately, it's the only usable location. I created others in the past, but I destroyed them whenever I relocated. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

"I really shouldn't be astounded that you chose to omit something that important." Hermione released Harry's arm and first met his gaze, then Ron's. There was a flat darkness in her eyes. "Presumably Lestrange would act as our medium if all three of us went back in time. However, if those Death Eaters break in while we're gone and take him hostage…"

We won't be coming back.

The unspoken truth rang as clear as a bell through the room, puncturing the sound of crumbling defences all around.

"Well, that's that," said Ron, his upbeat tone almost believable. "We should wait, then. We can wait, yeah?"

Harry didn't reply. He was staring at Hermione, and Hermione was staring back at him. Her features were devoid of expression save for the dull acceptance in the thin line of her mouth, mirror to his own.

He inclined his head towards her, a silent agreement, and squared his shoulders as he turned to face Peregrine. His answer shone out from his eyes.

Peregrine's mouth tugged into the barest of smirks, though his gaze was sad.

"Well," he said, dumping his trunk on the ground and kicking it to the side. "I suppose I won't be needing this after all."

"Why won't you be needing that?" asked Ron blankly, glancing between the three of them. "Aren't we getting out of here now?"

Harry looked at his feet.

"Ron…" Hermione took a step towards him, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. Her voice was gentle. "That's not really an option for us."

"Like hell it's not!" Ron retorted, shrugging her hand off and glaring around the room. "Do you want to get stuck in the past? Think, Hermione, I thought that was your forte! If we're being logical about this, we should get out of this place and regroup later! How long would it take to prepare another place for your time travel ritual thing?"

The question was shot at Peregrine, who was evidently growing edgier as the debate dragged on and the moment the Death Eaters descended on them loomed closer.

"Around a month, give or take," he said, folding his arms and drumming his fingers.

"We can wait a month," said Ron, turning back to Harry and Hermione, his arms outstretched beseechingly. "What's another few weeks to us?"

Hermione took a step back from him, returning to Harry's side. Their shoulders brushed as she said, "It isn't guaranteed we'll be given this opportunity again if we turn our backs now. If we run, the Death Eaters will be on our tail the entire time. They've found all four of us, they won't hold back anymore. How could we possibly stay in the same place long enough for Lestrange to make any more preparations?"

"So we take them out here and now!" Ron's face twisted into a scowl, stabbing his finger at the gaggle of witches and wizards through the window. "There's only one more of them than us."

Peregrine cleared his throat. "I'm afraid that this would not be a battle I partake in. I have too many old ties with the Dark Lord's followers, I do not wish to engage–"

"Then there's only two more of them than us, big deal!" Ron's voice was gradually growing higher in tone, his ears becoming red. Harry had never seen him quite so hysterical before.

"It's not a gamble I'm willing to take," Hermione said.

Ron spluttered, struggling to find the words he so obviously wished to say. "I would've thought… you two… of all people…"

He fell silent, burying his face in his hands and turning his back to them.

With a rush of clarity, like storm clouds parting overhead, Harry finally understood.

"You're afraid," he said quietly.

"I'm not afraid," said Ron unconvincingly, his voice muffled, but lowered his hands and turned his head to face them. His eyes showed the barest hint of moisture. "I just thought… you two are the ones who've been stranded in another time. You should see the possible consequences of this risk more clearly than any of us. You should be the most terrified, you should be the ones insisting on running, damn it all, running and not looking back!"

Harry met his wild gaze steadily.

"It's because of that that we don't want to run," he said and reached down to squeeze Hermione's hand. "We thought we'd never see home again. But we have, and maybe that's enough."

Hermione squeezed his hand back and reached out to take Ron's.

"As long as we've got each other, I know we'll be alright," she said. Her lips wobbled into a smile.

Ron stared at her, at the mask of bravado she wore like a shield. Harry could pinpoint the exact moment the panic withdrew from his eyes to be replaced by something hard and unyielding.

He gave a sharp nod.

Harry exhaled and turned to Peregrine.

"You sure you're okay with this?" he asked.

"It's fine," said Peregrine. He was already standing at the far corner of the room, rapping his wand upon seemingly random spots on the wall. "I'm fine. Besides, it was a given that they'd get me eventually. What better way than with this last act of rebellion? They'll be spitting mad when they realise what I've done!"

He laughed, but the sound was strung taut. He finished knocking against the wall and lowered his wand, taking a step back. There was a pregnant pause in which nothing happened. Then the wall split down the middle, rearranging itself into a narrow doorway with slow, heavy clunks. Harry peered in. Everything beyond the first few steps downwards was pitch black. Hermione and Ron appeared in his peripherals, staring into the darkness from over his shoulder.

"Ladies first," said Peregrine, gesturing with his wand.

Harry could only imagine the look he must have received from Hermione.

"Allow an old man his jokes," he said with a low chuckle, stepping forward to take the lead. Harry followed suit, Hermione tailing him and Ron bringing up the rear. They were plunged into darkness when the wall closed itself behind them. Finding no need to communicate with one another, they each raised lit wand tips in unison to illuminate the narrow passageway with its old, crumbly stone walls. Harry brought his wand higher to properly gauge their surroundings. Below the ground, the place was dilapidated (there was no kinder way to put it). Age-old cobwebs were matted in clumps to the ceiling. Fresh webs housed spindly black spiders (Harry could almost hear Ron shrinking in on himself). The steps were rough-hewn rock, dangerously uneven to walk on.

Hermione stumbled on a loose step behind him and barely managed to steady herself on his shoulder. Harry jumped at the contact and hissed into Peregrine's ear, "Can't you have made this place a little more… well, less likely to brain ourselves on the wall?"

Peregrine was easing himself down the stairs with the grace of a person with much practice. He glanced at Harry over his shoulder and said with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Safety not guaranteed."

The descent continued in silence. Harry tripped over once and almost pushed Peregrine to his likely death. A spider landed on Ron's shoulder and nearly resulted in the demise of the lot of them.

All things considered, it was a rather uneventful journey downward. Harry's paranoid mind offered more entertainment than the reality of the trip. Every few seconds he fancied himself hearing heavy boots stampede into the little kitchen they had previously occupied. It wasn't uncommon for him to whirl around to ensure the noises he heard directly behind them were merely ghosts of his imagination.

When they finally reached the basement after what felt like an eon but was realistically probably only five minutes, Peregrine turned to them and instructed, "Lights out."

There were simultaneous mutters of, "Nox," and once again a heavy black weight pressed in on Harry's eyes. He blinked, no longer entirely sure whether or not his eyes were open. There was the noise of fabric shifting ahead of him, just where Peregrine stood, then slowly lights bloomed into existence around the room, like golden flowers unfurling. Peregrine was sweeping his wand in a smooth motion from one corner of the basement to the other, the torches in iron brackets attached to the walls rattling to life.

It was less basement than dungeon. Harry was vividly reminded of Snape's classroom as he took in the less than welcoming sight. They stood in a circular chamber whose ground, walls and ceiling were constructed entirely of smooth cobblestones. There was no interior decoration, save the torches set into the stone walls and a rickety wooden table across the room. Someone had drawn a large circle on the floor in white chalk, with debatable accuracy in Harry's opinion. Words in a foreign language had been scrawled in the centre of the circle, with various unfamiliar symbols surrounding it. The result was an elaborate piece of art Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from.

"Welcome to paradise," said Peregrine. He had moved to the table across the chamber without Harry noticing and was flicking through a book that hadn't been sitting atop it behind.

"What's that star doing up there?" Ron asked. His voice was still a tad breathy, his eyes shifty from his recent encounter with the spider.

"What?" said Harry.

Ron pointed, his eyebrows raised. Harry followed the direction of his finger to the centre of the ceiling. A simple five-pointed star had been roughly engraved into the hard stone.

Before Peregrine could open his mouth, Hermione seized the opportunity to flex her own knowledge. Harry was almost glad. It brought back a sense of familiarity to this otherwise alien situation.

"That's the nautical star," she said quickly. "It's typically associated with the United States armed forces in the sea, but anyone with a little knowledge of our basic history knows that it's more deeply enrooted in sailor culture than the United States specifically. Some people call it the north star because it's supposed to symbolise–"

"–a lost traveller finding their way home, that's right," said Peregrine, smiling a little. "That was my intention, anyway, when I incorporated it into the design."

Harry stared at it, his head tilting to the side as he examined the star engraving. He wasn't entirely sure why, but it seemed to radiate a sense of ancient magic. It was inexplicable, but there was something calming about it. The nerves twisting like loose wires within him lay still. It was almost as though it was calling him home.

"You said it takes you weeks to prepare a place for this," said Ron. "It doesn't look like it would take that long to put a few drawings on the ground."

"I had to lay down a foundation of wards and enchantments," countered Peregrine, returning to the book on the table. "This is deeply volatile magic, you can't just 'put a few drawings on the ground'. I wouldn't expect the likes of you to understand."

Ron spluttered, his ears growing red. "What's that meant to mean?"

Peregrine spared him a look of disdain. "Only those of pure-blood lineage could hope to fathom the magic entrenched in this ritual."

Hermione scoffed.

Harry sighed. "I hoped you might have outgrown that sort of thinking, Peregrine," he said bracingly. "Besides, Ron actually is pure-blood, if you really do care to know."

"Not that it matters," added Ron.

Peregrine raised an eyebrow, having earned his unadulterated attention. "Really? Which family do you hail from?"

"Weasley." Ron's voice was begrudging, but his gaze was challenging.

Peregrine rolled his eyes and turned back to the book once again. "Merlin and Morgana help me," he muttered.

While he continued sweeping through the pages, Hermione turned to face Harry and Ron.

"Alright," she said. "It looks like this is really happening. First, we need to establish what our endgame is."

"Preventing Tom from creating this future," said Harry swiftly. "Peregrine sending us into a fluid past should do the trick, since it won't be a fixed timeline."

"Breaking the time loop the Tempus Charm created is the goal, then," said Hermione. "We're going to have to be careful, since every action we take will alter the future. All we have to do is locate the origin of the Tempus Charm… when shouldn't be an issue, as long as Peregrine performs the ritual properly…"

"Don't doubt me." The voice came from over Harry's shoulder and he started. Peregrine was standing behind them with the book tucked under one arm and a short, wickedly sharp blade in the other hand. "Now, if you've read my book as you say you have, I'm sure you're all aware of this part. All prospective time-travellers, please leave a sample of blood at the centre of the circle. As soon as you have left your mark, this ritual will have officially commenced, so I ask that you refrain from removing yourself from within the circumference. Any part of your body which exits the circle's boundary will be left behind."

He held out the blade. Without looking at Hermione or Ron, Harry took it first. He stepped into the circle and walked to the middle. With only a slight grimace, he ran the sharp edge against the palm of his hand and held it out, allowing the crimson dribble to splatter against the cobblestones. Hermione entered the circle next, taking the knife from him and mimicking his action, a crease forming between her eyebrows as she added to the red stain across the ground.

Harry waited for Ron to join them, but he remained outside the circle, his arms folded. There was a hard light was within his eyes again, the same Harry had seen earlier but had not commented on.

His heart sank into his abdomen region and did not resurface.

"Ron," said Hermione, a little impatiently. "Come on. We've got to get going. I doubt we have very long before the Death Eaters break in and figure out where we are."

Ron shook his head. "I'm not going."

It appeared that he had finally managed to shock even Peregrine into a state of silence. Not a single half-witty, half-snide comment left his lips. Hermione was a different matter.

"We haven't got time before this," she snapped.

"No, you don't," said Ron. "Off you pop."

Hermione stormed towards him until she stood with her toes against the boundary, her hands forming fists at her sides and her voice rising in volume. "I would drag you in here if I could, but unfortunately I'd rather keep all my limbs intact, so hurry up and come over here!"

Ron's jaw tightened and he glanced to the side, away from her. "I can't, Hermione. I've got to stay here with Lestrange."

"That's ridiculous! Why are you staying with him? Why are you doing this?"

"Because I'm going to do all I can to make sure you and Harry can come back," said Ron quietly. He directed his gaze towards Peregrine. "I'll guard your back until you can bring them home."

Something unspoken passed between them. Peregrine inclined his head once in acknowledgement.

Ron glanced back at Hermione's face and whatever he saw made him drop his gaze, his mouth forming a line.

"Let me do this, Hermione. If this is all the sacrifice I have to make, I'll gladly step out of this adventure."

"We need you," Hermione whispered. Her voice was thick and Harry realised she must have started crying. "I need you."

Ron lifted his face and smiled sadly. "You two will find your way. You always do."

He met Harry's eye. Harry smiled back at him, a lump forming in his own throat. "Alright," he said, his voice cracking. "See you in a bit, Ron. We'll take it from here."

He stepped forwards and put his arm around Hermione's shoulders, drawing her back to the centre of the circle. She did little to resist, simply extending an arm in Ron's direction.

"Please." It came out as little more than a whisper, a desperate wish caught in the back of her throat.

Harry's knuckles whitened around her shoulder. "Peregrine," he said roughly.

Peregrine spared Hermione one last glance, something curious in his gaze, before turning to address Harry. "Once you can no longer hear me speaking, I need both of you to visualise the time you want to go back to. In fact, visualise is too weak a word. I need you to–"

"–feel it, I know," said Harry. "You wrote it in your book. We can manage it."

He cast a quick look down at Hermione. She had wrapped both arms around herself, gaze fixed upon Ron's face, but Harry knew she was listening.

"We also need to agree upon a time in which I'll cast a return portal for you," continued Peregrine. "A day in their time should translate into approximately ten seconds in our time. What time limit will you allow yourselves to achieve your objective?"

"Seven minutes and thirty seconds," said Hermione. Her voice was tiny. "That will allow us forty-five days."

"We'll earn you that time," said Ron, then the corner of his mouth tipped up a fraction. "Hey, Hermione. Come back safely and I'll take you out some time."

Hermione's head jerked up, momentarily stunned out of her mood. "Like a…?"

"Yeah, like a date." He grinned now, all bright blue eyes and freckles and a barely-recovered burnt nose. "I'll be waiting right here. And Harry?"

"Yeah?"

There was a pause in which Ron chewed over his words. Then he shrugged and said, "Go get him."

Harry smiled down at his feet.

Peregrine pointed his wand at the five-pointed star above Harry and Hermione, the book from his desk open in his other hand. The lights emitted from the torches around the periphery of the chamber dimmed. Peregrine swept his eyes over the words in the book, opened his mouth, and began.

The words that rolled off his tongue were soothing, elegant and haunting, all rolled into one. Harry closed his eyes, the words lapping over his body like heated water or a balmy summer breeze. His body was slowly blooming with warmth from his core as though he'd just taken a large swig of Firewhisky.

He moved to release Hermione, but she clutched onto his arm and he relented.

The undersides of his eyelids were turning red, sparks dancing like music notes. He dared peek his eyes open to see what was happening but was blinded by glaring white light from all directions. He could no longer hear Peregrine, there was only the loud rushing of wind in his ears. In that moment, Harry was positive that his heart had swollen to at least double its normal size. He could feel the enlarged organ pulsing, imprinting its mark somewhere in his throat where it had no business being.

Hermione's fingers were bruising his skin. He doubted his own grip was much better.

Exhaling through his mouth around the heart-shaped mass obstructing his airways, Harry conjured a vision of the time he wanted to be taken to. He imagined Tom's deep-water eyes, his long, thin body, the nuances of his voice, the taste of his lips. He imagined the years before the idea of the Tempus Charm had been planted in Tom's head, he imagined the string of the time loop breaking. Then, unbidden, he saw Peregrine. Long, auburn hair, pitch-black eyes the loping gait of youth sun-tanning in Australia a quill behind an ear the tip of his tongue tucked between his teeth as he consulted paper after paper

The space around him was now impossibly bright his eyes scorched behind closed eyelids the rushing wind around his ears endless was there ever a time before this blindness deafness where was she

Gone

Scrambling empty alone

Hands over ears eyes

Bright

Loud

Burning heat stamping nape of neck

Howls tears why

Silence

After however many chapters, we're finally venturing into plot territory! Wow! Let's hear a "hip hip hooray!"