“This is a time turner,” her twin informed her smoothly, holding up the object on the end of the long chain around his neck. “If I use it to go back to the Final Battle, I can hide and watch until Uncle Ron kills Snape. Then I can come back, go to the Ministry, and use Telemency to show them that Uncle Ron didn’t do anything wrong, because there’s really no chance that he did. Don’t you see?” And then, he uttered the wisest and least Jordan-y phrase that had ever escaped his mouth. “But I should bring some support. In case something doesn’t go as planned.”
“Good, because I’m coming,” Emma said immediately, stepping forward.
Tyrone looked at her sideways. “If she’s coming, I am, too. Knowing her, she’ll finish off Voldemort herself and wreck history, and someone has to at least try and stop her.”
“I’ll come,” Ivy volunteered.
“Me, too,” said Ted. “Hey, it’s not even due to be a full moon for another week. This is my first chance to help save the day in human form.”
Haley nodded solemnly. “And of course I’m coming.”
Jordan stood, his posture erect and his face full of authority and purpose. His eyes were dark and hard and his face might have been marble, and if his hand was only inside his jacket, he might have been channeling Napoleon. He at least had the ‘short’ part covered.
He’d looked like this many times before, and it was a look he’d inherited from his father. But now, at age seventeen, a fully grown Seer, and still dangerously confident from the rush of discovering Telemency, he was more formidable than ever. “Follow me,” he said, “we have to pick up one more person.”
“Why do I feel like I’m having a serious case of déjà vu?” muttered Tyrone as the group strode briskly down the corridor.
“Okay, so where exactly are we going?” asked Emma, feeling uncomfortably like a lemming headed straight off a cliff. “And who are you getting?”
But Jordan pretended not to hear her question and simply walked silently until he reached the portrait hole to the Ravenclaw Common Room.
“It’s password protected like ours,” Ivy told him helpfully. “They said so at the Prefect orientation last year. I don’t think there’s any way to talk to someone who’s in there if you don’t know the pass””
“Mooncalf.”
“”word,” Ivy finished in a soft voice as the portrait hole swung wide open.
Jordan gave her a little smile. “Seer, remember,” he said jauntily, and stepped through the portrait hole into the Common Room, motioning to the others to stay back. He was far too sure of himself, far too happy. Even Tyrone thought he was acting disturbingly Tyronish since discovering Telemency. But maybe a little excess confidence was good in such a crazy endeavour as time traveling. Maybe sheer confidence was all that would keep it from being a total disaster.
Jordan made his way through the portrait hole, fully aware of how he was acting even more so of the astonished faces of the Ravenclaws sitting around the Common Room. But one thing that could be said about Ravenclaws was that they were a bright bunch, and no one called out anything like “What are you doing here? You’re not in this house!”
Savouring his freedom to be as strange as he wanted now that his reputation was established, he walked through the Common Room and leaned against a chair. “No need to look so upset; I’m not here to predict anyone’s deaths,” he assured the Ravenclaws, reminding himself irresistibly of Merlin. “I just need Cecilia Longbottom.”
Cecilia looked up wide-eyed from her homework. Everyone around her was whispering and staring, wondering why this sixth year Gryffindor, not even a Prefect, needed to speak to a third year so desperately that he would barge into their Common Room. Wisely, she decided to steer Jordan off to the corner, where it would be difficult for the rest of the room to watch them.
“All right, what’s all this about?” she asked immediately.
Jordan smiled. “Right to the point. Well, for complicated reasons that I really don’t have time enough to explain, several of my friends and I are traveling back to the last battle against Voldemort, and I thought you might want to come.”
Cecilia stared at him and blinked, as if doing so would make what he had just said make any semblance of sense. “What?”
“Your parents were both in the battle. You must wonder what happened and what it was like”trust me, I can honestly say that I’ve been there.”
Cecilia blinked yet again. “Well, yeah, of course, but I’d never want to actually go there. It’s dangerous. And besides, it’d just be embarrassing. My parents only got injured”I’m not surprised, they’re not really the hero type.”
Jordan couldn’t believe his ears. “They got injured? Cecilia, it’s a major accomplishment that they even survived! You wouldn’t say that my dad was rubbish up against Voldemort because he got a cut on his forehead.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it! My dad’s your Herbology teacher. You have to admit he can be pretty spacey, always buttoning his shirt wrong and forgetting what the homework he assigned was. And my mum’s even worse. It’s like I’m the mum and they’re the clueless kids. I have to tell them everything. There’s no way they pulled their own weight against Voldemort.”
“Oh, really?” Jordan’s voice was eerily soft, and his eyes intensified even more. “Because I’ve seen the battle.”
Cecilia was silent for a moment, looking up at the older boy. After a moment, she said in a small voice, “You really believe this Seeing stuff, don’t you?”
Jordan’s expression was faraway and thoughtful, and when he spoke, it was slowly, as if his words were being transmitted to him from somewhere far away. “It’s more… knowing than believing. If it was anyone other than me, even Haley… especially Haley… I’m quite positive I wouldn’t believe a word of it, but when I can see it for myself, it’s impossible not to.” He paused. “But I didn’t see the battle like that. It was in a… different way.” His manner changed, becoming brisk and businesslike once more. “So, are you coming? I do have several of my friends waiting outside your Common Room.”
Cecilia raised her eyebrows. “Jordan, I’m a Ravenclaw, not a Gryffindor. I don’t go running off into danger, or whatever it is that you and your friends like to do.”
“But that’s why I thought you should come!” said Jordan. “Every mission like this needs someone who is practical and logical to keep everything from turning into chaos.”
“What about you?” the younger girl shot back.
Jordan laughed humourlessly. “Me? Not anymore. I’ve lost any sense I might have ever had… though at least I’m sane enough to have realized that much.” He narrowed his eyes in thought. “Of course, I don’t think I was ever very sensible, not really. I just tried to convince myself that I was.” He seemed to realize that he was talking to himself and quickly changed the subject back to Cecilia and the mission at hand. “We won’t actually be going into combat,” he assured her, “We’ll just watch from the sidelines, and if anything does happen, I’ve always got my time turner with me. You’ll be in good hands.”
As soon as the words ‘good hands’ left his mouth, he couldn’t help but immediately think of Trelawney ranting and raving about how unique and amazing his palms were. He tried to shake the image from his mind.
Cecilia stared off into space, apparently weighting the pros and cons of the situation, then at last said decisively, “I say we do it. What have we got to lose?”
“Honestly?” He hadn’t been expecting this. Although he knew he’d recruit Cecilia in the long run”he always ended up accomplishing what he set out to do”he’d never predicted, Seer that he was, that it would be so easy. “Well, that’s fantastic. We should go now”and if anyone asks any questions, just say something about how strange I am and how nothing I do makes any sense. That should satisfy them.” He was not joking.
The small third year girl followed him out through the portrait hole into the corridor, where she immediately saw Ted, Ivy, Haley, Emma, and Tyrone loitering around the hallway and playing Exploding Snap.
“Hi!” Ted said cheerfully. “You’re Cecilia Longbottom, right?” She nodded a bit shyly. “Cool, I hear you’re really smart,” he told her. He’d also heard some less complimentary things, too, but there was no way he was going to mention that.
“I’m Ted Lupin,” he introduced himself brightly, as if she didn’t already know. In addition to being a member of the famous Potter’s Pentagon, his status as a Prefect, his height, and the fascinating fact that he was a werewolf made him a fairly well-known figure among younger students. “And this is Ivy Potter, and the girl drawing smiley faces on her shoes is her sister Haley, and that’s Emma Weasley, and the boy with the toad is Tyrone Thomas.”
“Are we really going through with this, going back in time?” Cecilia asked incredulously.
“Wow, you really must not know Jordan,” Emma said with a wry smile. “He’s a psycho. If he wants something to happen, it happens even if it’s totally impossible. I mean, when you’re a loony, I guess that kind of stuff doesn’t matter.”
Jordan raised his eyebrows. “I’m standing right here, you know,” he told her flatly. “But yes, we are going back in time, so let’s go.”
“What, just like right now?” asked Tyrone, looking astonished.
“No, we’re going to the Room of Requirement, then taking the Floo network to my house. Then we’re going back in time.” His voice was so matter-of-fact as to be unnerving.
“Déjà vu again,” Tyrone muttered under his breath as Jordan set off down the corridor, the others following confusedly. “And are we picking up his Muggle girlfriend again or something?”
Jordan whirled around to face him, and the much taller, bigger boy actually shrank back with a look of intimidation. “Giorgi is my friend,” he said, his voice flatter than a pancake. “And if you really think that it would be a good idea to let a Muggle witness the final battle against Voldemort, then you obviously have no idea what you’re getting onto.”
On this encouraging note, the other six looked at once another uncomfortably before heading down toward the Room of Requirement.
“Then why are we going to Godric’s Hollow?” asked Ted.
Jordan’s voice was quiet but strangely deep. “Because,” he said, “That’s where the final battle happened.”
“How did you…” began Tyrone, but this time, it was Ivy who answered.
“He’s seen it,” she replied simply. She was the first person her brother had entrusted with the secret of his exploits in the Pensieve back when that had been the most angst-inspiring event in his life, and it wasn’t the sort of thing that was readily forgotten.
No one asked Ivy to elaborate.
But before they could reach the Room of Requirement, their progress was stopped by an unexpected person. “Well, bonjour,” said Anatoly Capshaw, leaning lazily up against the wall near the Room of Requirement. “You all seem to look very purposeful and epic-heroic. I’m guessing something out of my depth is about to happen?”
Haley looked around at the faces of her friends, unsure of what to say to Anatoly. On one hand, she didn’t want to lie to him; on the other, she also didn’t want her brother to incur his wrath upon her. “Ummm… well, we’re going… somewhere… to do… something,” she said eloquently.
“Ahhh,” replied Anatoly, nodding sagely. “It’s like that time you people charged into the woods to save Ivy from the Acromantulas in first year, or like that time you charged into the woods and defeated Draco Malfoy in fourth year, or like that time charged into the woods and stopped Tancred Apple from giving the secret of magic to the Muggles last year. So, you’ve found yourselves a new bit of woods, have you?” He leaned forward, wiggling his eyebrows mysteriously.
When he put it that way, it sounded like they were always racing into the midst of some arboreal catastrophe to save the day. But they weren’t, not really. Much. Well, it was a family trait.
“We’re actually going back in time to the last battle against Voldemort to see what’s up with Snape,” Haley blurted in one breath.
Anatoly’s limber eyebrows skyrocketed to his hairline. “You,” he proclaimed, “are kidding. That is stark, staring, screamingly loopy, even for you people.”
“Yep,” said Haley brightly. “Want to come?”
“Well, let me check my schedule and see how many world-saving missions I have scheduled for today. And I’ll go find the special shoes I’ve reserved specifically for charging into the woods.”
Jordan glowered, not liking Anatoly’s flippant attitude one bit. “Haley, he””
“Is coming? Funny, that’s exactly what I was about to say,” said Anatoly, flashing a smile.
Jordan did not look particularly pleased with this development, to say the least. “Why would you even want to come?” he demanded. “Do you think this is some kind of… of game or something?” He didn’t know Anatoly Capshaw particularly well, but one thing that he knew about him was that Haley seemed to like him, and he generally did not trust his twin’s judgment.
“As a matter of fact, no,” said Anatoly, and in its unsettling way, his face shifted abruptly from open friendliness to icy defensiveness. “I wanted to help a friend, actually. Is this suddenly a crime or something? Or are only cool people and experienced heroes allowed to do it?”
Emma looked around at her friends. “We can’t trust him!” she whispered. “He’s a Slytherin!”
She hadn’t whispered quietly enough, because Anatoly looked straight at her, his expression just as dark and defiant as hers. “And you’re rude,” he shot back. “Believe me, I have just as much respect for you as you have trust for me.” He folded his arms. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I seem to remember that there were eight people on the bright and shiny side of the battle when your uncle defeated Voldemort? Shouldn’t you bring me along for good luck? I am part Irish, if that makes a difference.”
No one said anything for a moment. Then, finally, Ted spoke up. “I’m thinking we need all the help we can get,” he said.
“So long as you know what you’re getting into,” Jordan said seriously as the door to the Room of Requirement popped into existence.
The seven of them stepped inside. And Anatoly followed.
“I can’t believe Dad would want to build a house and everything right where he killed Voldemort,” Haley said, shivering slightly as she stepped out of the fireplace into her deserted house. “I mean, he doesn’t even like to talk about it. Wouldn’t living here make him think about it like all the time?”
Ted came out of the fireplace behind her, the last of the group, and flicked ashes thoughtfully out of his hair. “No, I think it’s kind of the opposite,” he replied slowly. “If I were him, I’d want to live here so I could have a bunch of good memories about this place. It beats having to think about the battle all the time. And I bet he feels at home here, knowing that this was the first place he was ever happy, even though he was too young to remember it.”
“You know, I think you’re right,” mused Ivy, looking impressed. “Knowing how Dad’s mind works, that’s probably the case.” She reflected that all the places where horrible things had happened to her father”Godric’s Hollow, Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic”were all places that were now important in his life, places he’d lived and worked. He’d even donated money to have a Quidditch stadium built in Little Hangleton where the Riddle house and its graveyard had once stood, and had the cave where he had once fought Inferi transformed into a special emergency headquarters for Aurors. The one exception to this rule was Privet Drive, but maybe some wounds were just too deep.
“Well,” said her brother, briskly pulling his Time Turner up over his head and succeeding in making his hair look even more horrible than usual. He flicked his wand and made the gold chain from which it was suspended long enough so that all eight of them could fit in. “Make sure that none of you talk to anyone”especially not to disclose your identities”and don’t get involved with the battle. Horrible things have happened to people who meddled with time.”
Privately, he realized he sounded an awful lot like some ancient white-bearded wizard who plodded around with a staff and a lot of wise warnings from one of Giorgi’s Muggle fantasy novels, but he shook off the thought.
He looped the chain around the necks of all eight of the people who were rather amusingly packed together, elbows seemingly protruding from ears, and noses crammed into armpits. “I’m going to take us back now,” he announced, his voice steady. “The time turner has got lots of knobs”one for minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years decades, centuries, and millennia”so it’ll just be a few turns. You’re going to feel a bit like you’re Apparating, so be prepared, and do not let go.”
He twisted the decade knob twice, the year knob three times, and added a few more twists of the smaller knobs to get the timing exactly perfect.
And then it happened.
Months of using the time turner for Divination classes had caused him to become so used to time travel as to be almost bored with it, but he’d never gone more than a few hours back, and never with company.
In a strangely palpable sort of way, time whizzed past them, while their feet remained rooted to the ground (with the exception of Haley, who seemed to be doing a nervous little step dance of anticipation). The other seven shrieked and gasped as though riding an especially ferocious roller coaster and grabbed each other’s arms and (in the confused jumble) necks.
At last, the maelstrom cleared. And when it did, the house wasn’t there anymore.
The eight of them were standing in the midst of a small heap of rubble, the sort of crumbled rock and plaster that was partly covered with dirt and weeds and had been lying untouched for years.
Apparently, no one had thought to clean up what was left of the Potters’ house after it had been destroyed, or were too afraid to come near, even sixteen years later, or perhaps they had decided to leave it untouched as a monument. But in any case, the effect was at once disconcerting and sad.
“It’s like the opposite of The Wizard of Oz,” remarked Tyrone, up on his Muggle films as always. “We’re in the same place, but we left the house behind.”
Everyone looked around hesitantly and uncomfortably, chills making their way up their spines. The street was deserted and abandoned, sitting in various states of gross disrepair. “I don’t like this,” Emma said definitively.
“Really, because I absolutely love it here,” Anatoly replied, sarcasm oozing from his words. In the silent street, his voice echoed larger than life. “Frankly, I’m a bit disappointed. Hardly any woods to charge into at all.”
Cecilia rubbed her forearms nervously. “It’s too quiet.”
It was. The eight teenagers stood wordlessly amid the rubble, feeling awkward and anxious and letting the silence swirl around them. Suddenly, Haley let out a gasp and clutched Emma’s arm.
“What?” said Jordan, his head whipping around as though he expected to see slimy green monsters devouring his sister. It would be a fine kettle of fish if they were spotted by Death Eaters just a few minutes into their time traveling trip.
“I just realized,” said Haley, “I really, really hate the name Jeremy.”
Jordan gritted his teeth and used all of his willpower to keep from smacking himself in the face. It was sometimes so hard to believe that he and his sister shared DNA, let alone the same species. “Right,” he said. “Quite obviously, no one else is here yet, so it would be the opportune moment for us to go hide behind one of those houses to watch before the battle starts. Remember, don’t scream, and don’t try to help out, even if it seems grave. If you meddle with the past, you can””
But he didn’t get to list the horrifying side effects of mucking about with time… nor did the group get the chance to hide. Because just then, they heard the explosive sound of several people Apparating at once, just out of the range of vision behind a row of houses.
“Seriously, this place still gives me the creeps every time,” insisted a deepish voice with the mumbling ineloquence of a teenager. “I know it makes you feel better and everything, but why come back now? It’s the third time this year.”
“Yes, we are on a tight schedule,” added an anxious-sounding, slightly shrill female voice.
“Oh, I think it’s quite pretty,” another girl’s voice replied, this one as distant and faraway as if uttered while in the midst of a dream.
“People died here,” a boy’s voice whispered solemnly.
There was a slight pause, then a man’s hoarse voice said quietly, “It certainly does bring back memories.”
Eight figures came from behind a nearby house, and the time travelers froze where they were. They were standing out in the open, in the middle of a pile of rubble. How much more conspicuous could they be? Before any of them could even begin to think of a possible way to hide, the newcomers came into the light, and the friends suddenly realized that these people were both familiar and unfamiliar.
“Who are you?” demanded the tallest of the group, whipping out his wand immediately.
Emma stared. The boy with the wand in his hand was a gawky, gangly boy with vivid red hair cut into a stupid-looking style that must have been fashionable back in the 1990’s. His pale skin was dotted with freckles, and his eyes were blazing like blue hearts of flame. Emma recognized that expression. She wore it more often than her favorite pair of shoes.
This boy was her father, at age seventeen. Her age. The idea was too weird to fully comprehend.
“Well?” Ron demanded aggressively, still holding out his wand.
At last, Ivy spoke up, her voice soft but clear. “We’re on your side.”
There was a brief moment of silence as the two groups looked at one another, sizing each other up. Emma surveyed the faces of the eight people before her, people she knew but who didn’t yet know her.
There was Mr. Potter, looking spindly and awkward in his hugely baggy Muggle clothing. He looked weary and strained, but his face was glowing with purpose in the same way that Jordan’s did when a mission was afoot. There was the future Mrs. Potter, slim and very young-looking for a girl of sixteen, her resemblance to Haley suddenly shockingly noticeable despite their different colouring. There was… blimey, Emma’s own mother hadn’t changed at all. She suspected that even when her mum had been a child, she’d been the exact same lovingly neurotic and nagging Hermione.
Behind her stood Professor Longbottom, an amazing sight on its own. Emma had never been able to imagine Professor Longbottom without his wheelchair, never thought of him standing on his own two legs, yet there he was, a plump-faced and floppy-haired boy. Next to him was Luna, her eyes impossibly huge and misty grey, rather than the blind white that they would become. Her fashion sense seemed not to have changed, though”apparently, blindness hadn’t altered her innate ability to choose outfits that really did not match.
On the other side was Ted’s mother, and Emma had to smile just looking at her. She knew Professor Lupin often talked about his wife’s Dora’s punk stage when she dressed in grungy clothes, wore her hair in pink spikes, and demanded to be addressed by her surname, but it was so funny to see Mrs. Lupin looking so rebellious and… unmotherly. It was especially funny to see the contrast between her and her reserved future husband, with whom she was holding hands.
Emma’s gaze lingered on Professor Lupin. He looked awful. Despite the fact that this man was over twenty years younger than the Defence professor she knew, he seemed older. Although this Lupin’s grey hair was still streaked with brown and his face was less lined, he was shockingly gaunt and ill-looking, shabbily and poorly dressed, and unshaven. His expression was one of mild-mannered misery.
“What are you doing here?” demanded Ron sharply, lifting his future daughter from her reverie. He was apparently feeling in a pugnacious mood, although he didn’t cut a very impressive figure.
“We live in… um… America,” Haley said quickly, keeping her wits together quite well. Talented actress that she was, she was able to pull off a surprisingly convincing American accent. “We were on holiday… that is, vacation, in the country, and we wanted to see the place where Harry Potter killed You-Know-Who. We’re big fans of his.”
Wow. Jordan was impressed. It took a true genius to feign dimness so well, though she had rather lacked subtlety. “Haley,” he hissed, playing along, “I think that is Harry Potter.”
Haley looked up at Harry slowly, blinking, then her face split into a massive grin. “You rock!” she squealed, hugging him and feeling thoroughly odd about embracing a father who did not know who she was. “And you do look kind of like Jordan! Everyone tells us we look like we could be related to you!”
She knew her twin brother would never direct attention to the resemblance between the two generations of Potters”he was still too logical, even though he constantly insisted that he wasn’t anymore. Logically, if you don’t want someone to realize you’re his son from the future, you don’t point out the resemblance between the two of you. But Haley knew more about people”and she knew that black hair and green eyes were an unusual combination. The safest bet was to draw attention to it, and allow everyone to realize it and then drop it completely a few minutes later.
Harry gave the group a bashful half-smile, apparently not used to being randomly hugged by excitable girls. Up close, he looked pale and haggard, and there were dark circles under his eyes. “It’s nice to know I’ve got support, I guess,” he said.
“So,” said Cecilia casually, “Er, what are you doing in Godric’s Hollow, then?”
“Well,” said the perky-looking Mrs. Lupin, who was apparently not yet “Mrs.” anything. “Harry just likes to hang out here, makes him feel calm… and Remus and Neville and Luna and Ginny and I just joined today to help him””
“Tonks!” exclaimed Ginny quickly.
“”out…”
Ginny smiled apologetically. “Sorry, you never know who’s a Death Eater.”
Tyrone gave the group his most winning smile, which was saying something. All of his smiles were pretty wining. “Oh, that I understand. But trust me, we’re not Death Eaters,” he laughed.
“Ahhh,” came a drawling voice out of nowhere, “but we are.”
And suddenly, they were surrounded. Black-cloaked figures formed a ring around the group, masked faces leering and wands extended. It was a trap.
Jordan turned white, his freckles standing out across his nose like chocolate chips on an underbaked cookie. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The plan was to wait safely behind one of the dilapidated houses, not to get involved with the fight or tamper with the past, even to the slightest degree. But they had no choice. They had to fight… or there was no alternative but death...
And across from him, the boy who would become Jordan’s father looked just as petrified as he did. “If Voldemort comes, we’re dead,” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth to Hermione. “We still never found the last Horc… you know.” The Death Eaters had moved closer now, their wands drawn out, closing in around the sixteen frightened people.
Just then, there was a red bang of light, a nonverbal incantation, and a Death Eaters fell to the ground. Hastily, Neville tucked his wand back into his pocket, barely shifting a muscle.
The silence was palpable, weighing on them all for one terrible moment as the Death Eaters stared at one another and at the sixteen in turn. Then the Death Eaters sprang to life, flinging curses, lunging forward, pairing off to duel.
“Everyone fight for defence! Follow the plan!” shouted Harry. He tilted his head and his mouth moved slightly, forming the phrase, ‘no plan”fake it.’
As the battle began, not with the measured niceties of a civil wizards’ duel but a frantic many-sided free-for-all, Haley yanked her brother aside, pulled her Invisibility Cloak out of her purse, and shook it out.
“Put this on,” she whispered, thrusting it at her twin. “You can’t let anyone even try to attack you. You’re the brains behind all of this, we can’t afford to lose you.”
Jordan blinked. “No, I””
“Look, don’t try to pull the ‘brave and noble Gryffindor’ card on me. I’ve known you forever, and I know you’re not Dad. When it comes to battle, you’re more of a Slytherin.” Coming from her, unlike nearly anyone else, this was neither a compliment nor an insult. It was a simple fact.
“But you””
“Whatever!” exclaimed Haley, tossing it over Jordan’s head. “If you die out there, don’t come running to me. Let’s face it, your life’s more important than mine is. You have to realize you’re one-of-a-kind… I mean, the future needs someone like you a lot more than they need one more actress. And if anything happens to you, you know the rest of us won’t stand a chance.” She pulled her brother into a tight hug that left his arms dangling awkwardly, trapped beneath her viselike grip. “Listen, Jor-jums. I might not get another chance to tell you this, but you’re a cooler guy than I gave you credit for. I’m proud of you, baby brother.”
Jordan felt his vision blurring slightly, and was glad that his face was concealed beneath the cloak so that Haley couldn’t see his expression. “I still think it’s stupid to give the cloak to me,” he said. “Your defensive skills aren’t as strong as mine. But… you’re a lot braver than I am. I should’ve realized that ages ago.”
There was a loud ‘bang’ behind Haley, as Jordan pulled the cloak up and vanished completely.
“Oh, I have to duel now!” she squealed. “See you around! Or… not see you around, Invisi-Boy!” She winked and skipped off, wand clutched in hand.
Remus Lupin’s wand had been knocked from his hand, and the hulking figure of Travers the Death Eaters was moving ever closer toward him, his steps seeming curiously slow and dreamlike. Remus could feel his heart beating in his ears, and his knees protested loudly as he scooted back further in search of his wand.
But Travers’s wand was pointing directly in his face, and he could see every enlarged pore on the man’s red nose as he came closer. “Accio wand,” he hissed, and caught Remus’s wand neatly in his hand as it came zooming toward him.
“Looks like you’re out of luck,” he jeered. “Die, werewolf scum!” He slashed his wand and began to utter the dreaded incantation. “Avada””
“PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!”
Travers fell frozen to the ground, his eyes still darting back and forth, and an extremely tall and skinny boy stood where Travers had a second before, prying Remus’s wand from the Death Eater’s stiff fingers. “Hi, I’m werewolf scum, too!” he greeted the fallen Death Eater brightly. “Except for the scum part.” He held out a hand to Remus. “You all right?”
Remus took the hand gratefully and got up. Standing, he came to the boy’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he said, and dusted off his robes. He paused and squinted at the boy for a moment, a faint crease appearing between his eyebrows. Something about him seemed strangely familiar. “You’re really a werewolf?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’m Ted, by the way. Ted…” his eyes flickered around the square that had become a battlefield. “Ted… Window…toad…spoon.”
“Ted Windowtoadspoon,” Remus repeated flatly. He was sure the boy was lying about his surname, and he had no idea why, but he decided not to question it.
The boy, Ted Windowtoadspoon or whoever he was, nodded. “Yeah. That.” He bobbed his head awkwardly, then his friendly face darkened and his wide blue eyes turned sad. “People like that Death Eater make me so mad,” he sighed. “Anyone who calls people scum… my girlfriend’s, um, her mother doesn’t like me, either, though I guess that’s fair, because I can’t say I’m all that fond of her, either.”
“You let people know you’re a werewolf?” asked Remus. It was hardly a secret that he was one, but it hadn’t been his decision to reveal it to the wizarding world. Snape had made that decision for him. “And you have a girlfriend?”
Ted smiled. “You sound so surprised!” he said. “Am I really that bad-looking?” He laughed. “Yeah, everyone at my school knows I’m a werewolf, it’s not really a big deal. It’s easier than trying to keep secrets from everyone.” As casual as he was speaking, something about the tone of his voice made it sound as though he had said this many, many times before.
Remus was torn between being really impressed and being cynical. The boy seemed so confident and optimistic… and he couldn’t be any younger than sixteen. Surely he was dealing with the violent spells and wolfish moments that all werewolves approaching adulthood had to face.
“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Ted asked. “That woman with the pink hair over there?”
Remus swallowed a lump in his throat. For some reason, he felt nervous. “Er, in a way,” he said, feeling himself blushing like a teenager again. “But it’s hardly a long-term relationship. It’s not as though we plan on getting married or anything.”
“Does she know that?” asked Ted, who seemed uncomfortably interested in the details of a total stranger’s personal life.
“Well, no, but I think it would be fairly obvious,” Remus said rather bitterly. “Who’s ever heard of a werewolf getting married? And we don’t breed.”
“My dad’s a werewolf,” offered Ted, “and he’s been one since way before he got married. And I know what you’re thinking”he didn’t bite me. It was a freak accident. But anyway, he says he doesn’t care what werewolves are and aren’t supposed to do as long as mum’s fine with everything.” He smiled. There was something about his voice”it certainly wasn’t very deep, and his tone was always soft and off-hand, but something in that voice made it impossible not to listen.
“Actually, you know what my dad says?” continued the boy. “He says it’s our choices that make us who we are, not our abilities.”
Remus rolled the words over in his brain. There was depth there, and there was depth behind the boy’s friendly light blue eyes, even if he made everything seem so obvious and clear and simple. “Your father definitely sounds like someone worth listening to,” was all he said.
“Oh, yeah.” Ted nodded. “He’s probably the smartest guy I know.” He hesitated, as if about to say something else, but apparently thought better and instead simply gave a quick wave and said, “Well, I really have to help my friends out in this battle thing. I’ll see you.” And with that, he jogged around the corner.
Remus didn’t know what had just hit him. That boy”the werewolf”had been unquestionably strange, but you couldn’t say that he didn’t have confidence. It was that quiet, plain sort of confidence, and Ted was definitely more gawky than cocky, but unlike any other werewolf Remus had ever known, he seemed more like a normal, easygoing kid than anything else.
Even more remarkably, Ted had made Remus feel ashamed for never having been one himself.
Ted had been brought up well. His father sounded like a remarkably grounded man”not to mention married and the father of perfectly well-adjusted offspring. “It is our choices that make us who we are, not our abilities…” He thought about this for a moment. Fenrir Greyback was, in essence, the same thing as him, but he’d chosen to use being a werewolf against the world. As for Remus… he’d chosen to use it against himself.
Our choices, not our abilities…
Remus would always be a werewolf, and he knew that wasn’t going to change. But he could decide for himself whether he wanted to be werewolf scum.
Jordan felt like a coward, standing on the sidelines of the battle under the Invisibility Cloak and watching everything that was going on around him. But he realized he wasn’t there to fight. He was there to observe, to see what exactly Snape did and what his Uncle Ron did, and that was it.
They’d been there for about half an hour. Ted’s mother had already killed the elderly Death Eater called Nott--Charybdis’s grandfather, Jordan realized”and Emma, being resourceful, had taken his wand off of his dead body. Now armed with two weapons, she was dueling Amycus and Alecto Carrow at once.
Nearby, Tyrone was parrying spells against the massive Thorfinn Rowle, though he was making himself a bit vulnerable by constantly checking to see how Emma was faring in her fight. Jordan was in a mind to shake him and tell him to watch out, but he didn’t have to”Emma called across to him while deflecting a particularly nasty jinx of Amycus’s, “Tyrone, it’s great that you’re worried about me and all, but you’re making me worry about you. Pay attention, already!”
Tyrone opened his mouth to protest as Emma ducked a Stunning spell. Jordan almost smiled at his cousin, being as close to tender as she knew how. But Emma and Tyrone weren’t the only ones busy. Jordan’s parents, his Aunt Hermione, and Cecilia’s father were back to back fighting off Death Eaters from all directions, as Cecilia’s mother nonverbally summoned and snapped as many Death Eaters’ wands as she could.
Speaking of Cecilia, she raced past him, covering her head in her hands as if shielding herself from flying debris in a tornado. Her cheeks were pink and she was quite out of breath, her face grubby with dirt and her lip bleeding slightly.
As Jordan looked at her, a spell hit the girl squarely in the chest. He gasped. A full body bind… not a Death Curse… he felt himself let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
Cecilia collapsed to the floor, her body stiff and rigid as a board. Only her eyes could move, and they were wide and fearful. Jordan felt a pang of regret as he knelt down next to her, still invisible. Why had be brought her? She may have been bright, but she was only a third year, nowhere near ready to fight fully grown dark wizards. Of course, that had never been in the original plans, but at least everyone else he had brought with him was of age with the exception of Ted, who would be in less than a month.
He had promised, he realized, that Cecilia would be in the best of hands. He’d told her she wouldn’t be hurt. But here she was, lying on the ground, and he hadn’t done anything to protect her.
“Cecilia,” he whispered as quietly as possible into the girl’s ear. Her eyes darted even more frantically, searching for the source of the mysterious voice that had spoken to her out of nowhere.
“This is Jordan, under Haley’s Invisibility Cloak. I want you to play dead. I could lift the spell on you right now, but I think you’d be safer if you pretended you were already dead. I’m sorry you got attacked.” She didn’t say anything which made sense as her mouth was frozen, but Jordan knew she would listen to him. She was, after all, a very practical person.
Jordan straightened up, just in time to see a curse from Walden Macnair hit his Uncle Ron in the face. An angry gash ripped down his cheekbone, spattering blood everywhere. Ron let out a roar of pain and whipped around, stunning Macnair in retaliation… but to Jordan’s horror, he realized that in turning to face Macnair, Ron had turned his back on Antonin Dolohov, who was slowly creeping up behind him.
It happened in slow motion as Jordan tried to move quickly enough beneath the cloak to stop the Death Eater. Dolohov’s long, twisted face stretched into a wicked smirk as he drew out his wand and directed it at Ron. He opened his mouth and hissed “Ava””
Just then, a blur streaked past. Silly-looking blond ringlets flying behind him as his limbs raced erratically, Anatoly Capshaw knocked the wand out of the Death Eaters’ hand, paused for a thoughtful second, and punched the man in the nose.
Only once Dolohov was down did he Stun him.
Anatoly straightened his wire rim glasses and nonchalantly wiped the blood off of his fist. “Slytherin on Slytherin combat!” he announced to no one in particular. “Novel idea, don’t you th”” He broke off suddenly and crashed to the ground as a Stunning Spell hit him in the face.
Jordan stared out at the scene. Already, Cecilia and Anatoly were down on the ground”thankfully, both alive”and the girl who would be his mother seemed to be nursing a broken wrist. Neville Longbottom was limping, bruises blooming across his face, Ron was gushing blood from the cut on his face, and Ted’s nose looked to be bleeding. But on the whole, he reflected, it could be much, much worse, and he fervently hoped that the status quo wouldn’t change.
There were at least twice as many Death Eaters as there were of the… well, Jordan couldn’t help but think of them as the “Bright and Shiny Side,” as Anatoly had called them earlier. But there were also far more Death Eater casualties.
Death Eaters, he realized, would never do what Anatoly had dared and put themselves in danger to save another member of their side. They would never team up and fight together, would never try to save each other. They fought for glory, to receive recognition by their master, not to protect their ‘friends.’ That was their weakness. The edge that Jordan’s side had over the Death Eaters was that they worked together, and it made them stronger.
It was strange that Jordan, the one who enjoyed solitude more than anything else, the one who was standing apart from the battle under an Invisibility Cloak, was realizing the value of teamwork. But he hoped it didn’t give out. The good guys had won when he’d seen the battle in the Pensieve, but strange things happened when people meddled with time. He couldn’t be so sure anymore.
On the far side of the battlefield, Haley was sitting on the ground, her lip trembling and her wide green eyes welling up with tears. Huddled in a ball with her jacket drawn around herself, she looked no more than twelve years old, and the sight of a miserable little girl was enough to make almost anyone stop in their tracks. In fact, someone did, although not exactly with the friendliest of intentions.
“Well, what’s this, then?” said a man’s harsh voice from behind her.
Haley looked up slowly to see a tall, muscular Death Eater, his eyes suspicious slits behind his mask. “Are you good, mister?” she asked in a soft whisper of a voice, quivering slightly.
“Uh… yeah… sure, kid.” The Death Eater shifted uneasily. “What are you doin’ here?”
Haley hiccupped, hugging her knees. “Well, my big brother was going with his friends to Godrics’ Hollow, ‘cos they wanted to see Harry Potter’s old house, only Mummy said I had to come along, too, because I have a Girl Guides meeting at seven, and we got here, and then the bad men got here, and then my big brother disappeared and I have to go to Girl Guides, and I can’t find him!” She wiped her runny nose on the sleeve of her jacket as fat tears splashed down her face. “What if he’s dead?” she whimpered.
The Death Eater looked even more uncomfortable. “Look, who are you, kid?” he asked. It was the second time he’d called her ‘kid’ in about as many minutes. Haley was keeping score.
“I’m Haley, and I’m eleven and three whole quarters.” She beamed up at the man through her tears.
The man, who seemed to be a new recruit to the Death Eaters, scratched the back of his neck and muttered, “Er, I’m Jeremy Corking, and er””
“You know what?” said Haley, her tone suddenly weirdly bright as she got to her feet. She looked Jeremy Corking straight in the eye, and there was much more than innocence shining in those eerily yellow-green eyes of hers. “I really, really hate the name Jeremy.”
And without warning, she kicked the man hard in the shins, sending him sprawling back onto the ground and freezing him with the Immobilus spell.
She curtseyed to the Death Eaters’ prone form. “Thanks,” she said. “That was a really great acting exercise you helped me with there. Oh, by the way”I’m seventeen. And just because I’m little and adorable doesn’t mean you should let your guard down, Jeremy, not that I’m complaining or anything. Toodles!” And she ran back into the square to find a new victim.
Jordan blinked under his Invisibility Cloak. It was not often that he got to see Haley in combat, but he’d cottoned onto the fact that he was surprised far too often by her skill. What was it about her that made her so easy to underestimate? At least she knew how to use that quality to her advantage.
As she raced over to duel with another Death Eater, her brother reflected that Haley really was in her element here. Her boundless energy made her quick and impossible to catch. Even her ADHD was an aide on the battlefield; she was unpredictable, never settling into a routine.
But it wasn’t just that she was skilled at fighting. Emma was a better dueler, and Ivy had a much broader grasp of magic. Jordan was infinitely smarter, Ted was better at observing and anticipating his opponents’ dueling style, and Tyrone was more graceful and indefatigable. But Haley had… it was bravery, Jordan had to admit. Incredible bravery that was all too easy to overlook in everyday life.
His thoughts were interrupted as he aimlessly reached up to scratch his nose and suddenly realized that he could see his hand perfectly well. But… how… why wasn’t the Invisibility Cloak…
“Would you look at this,” said a quiet, sneering voice from behind him.
Jordan whipped around and stared up into the pale, pockmarked face of Augustus Rookwood, who was pointing a wand directly into Jordan’s face and clutching the wadded up Invisibility Cloak in the other hand.
“I saw your hair and I almost thought you were Potter from behind… but he’d never be cowardly enough to hide under an Invisibility Cloak during battle,” said Rookwood, baring his yellowed teeth in a crude imitation of a smile.
Jordan said nothing. He didn’t have time to, because Rookwood hissed, “Cruc--”
“Expelliarmus.”
Rookwood’s head snapped around to see a small girl walking nonchalantly toward him, light glinting off of the sparkles and rhinestones decorating her denim jacket. She was… smiling as she twirled the wand between her fingers, and it wasn’t an unpleasant smile, either. She looked friendly and perky, which had to be a bad sign.
“Sorry, it’s just such a pretty wand, and I had to take it,” chirped Haley. She stopped in her tracks and looked up into the astonished face of Rookwood with her big, childish yes. “Hi, Mr. Pizza Face! Nice day, isn’t it?”
Rookwood snarled and lurched toward her, not as blinded by the cuteness as Jeremy Corking had been. This was probably because Haley hadn’t had the bright idea of insulting Corking’s complexion.
Haley did an odd sort of curtsey, and without warning, began skipping toward the ruined house that would belong to Giorgi Anderson’s family in twenty years. What on earth was she doing, trying to get a Death Eater mad? And what would she do once she got to the house?
Jordan blinked, not believing his own eyes, as the answer became apparent. An ancient, rusty ladder leaned against the side of the building, leading up to a flat roof. Without even a moment of hesitation, Haley grabbed the ladder with both fists and began to scamper up to the roof.
It was completely insane. Everyone knew, as plainly as the fact that Haley couldn’t stand it when people raised one eyebrow, that she was terrified to death of heights. Unlike the rest of her Quidditch-loving family, she couldn’t even bear to fly a broomstick more than a few feet off the ground, and even then, she had to squish her eyes tight shut”so the resulting crashes made her even less fond of flying.
But now, she was over halfway up that rickety old ladder, her sights determinedly fixed upon the roof. Did she think this was a surefire way of escaping from Rookwood? Because if she did, it wasn’t working. After tracing her trajectory for a moment, the Death Eater seized the sides of the ladder and started up it after her.
Jordan stared in horror. All around the battlefield, people on both sides were stopping to watch Rookwood chase Haley up onto the roof of the house. But what would happen once they were both on the roof? How would Haley get down? He couldn’t be the only one wondering this, because all around him, people were pointing and shouting, though Jordan only heard a dull mumble that roared incomprehensibly through his ears.
Haley and Rookwood were both standing on the roof now, facing one another. It was impossible to read Haley’s face from so far away as she began edging backward across the roof, Rookwood still pursuing her.
Jordan’s jaw was clenched and his face had gone greenish-white. Before his very eyes, he saw Haley backed up against the edge of the roof, dangerously close to toppling off.
She was trapped.
His grin visible from the ground, Rookwood reached out one hand lazily and snatched back his wand, pointing it straight at Haley’s throat. There was nothing she could do.
But she did something anyway. Despite the fact that there was nothing behind her but thin air, Haley took one more step backward, off the edge of the roof.
She screamed wildly, clawing the air… and then, with a terrible ‘crunch,’ she was silent.