12:00, When the World Changes

12:00, When the World Changes

Chapter Three - Dark Influences

The darkness surrounding the Intervener faded as he sent the three children on their way. Blackness gave way to a blurry landscape of trees and flowers and rivers. On a bare patch of ground sat the blurry form of the Intervener, with one hand raised over a swirling crystal ball. He could change this place any way he liked. But it was always still blurry, always removed from reality. He was never in the real world. That sacrifice had been made a long time ago. And regret had followed it ever since. Suddenly another blurry form appeared.

"What have you done Intervener?" the voice rang clear, echoing around the space.

"Nothing," he replied, waving his hand over the crystal ball. "Nothing at all."

"We both know that is not true."

The Intervener shrugged. "Do we?"

"Do not toy with me. We are only supposed to watch. Not interfere," the second blurry figure snapped.

"I was fixing a time line that was broken."

"Broken because it had no future," was the shouted reply. "Broken before things got out of control. Broken before it could collapse in on itself."

"In your jurisdiction it had no future," the Intervener said amusedly.

Silence hung thick in that empty space, for there was no air. The noiselessness was eerie and hollow. There were no birds or animals to make the place seem the least bit alive.

"Aren't you tired of being trapped?" There was an echo of something strange in the Interveners voice. "We have the power and the right to live, properly."

"We had to renounce that right long ago my friend."

"I am growing weary of this forsaken place," the Intervener sneered. "I am growing weary of ruling over the living, without being able to live myself."

"It is weary to be a protector of time," the other mused. "But it is wearier still to be jealous of those you protect."

"Those I protect," the Intervener spat. "Lowly creatures."

"Yet you long to live among them?"

"I will live among them."

The blurry figure shook its head. "The Council will not be happy about this."

"The Council is not going to know about this."

A ball of swirling orange and red grew in the Intervener's hands. Then as fast as lighting the ball was released and there was a thump as the other figure dropped to the ground.

"It will be our little secret."

The Intervener turned back to the crystal ball under his hand. Slowly and carefully he waved his hand over the ball. Shapes began to appear, places and faces. Three figures in particular were taking a definite form within the ball's foggy depths. The Intervener could see their mouths moving, forming disapproving lines in each other's directions. When he looked closer still he could see many tiny glittering threads binding them together. Threads representing emotion. Threads that glowed with anger, jealousy, mistrust and unfulfilled needs. All the things that helped to make him stronger. Darkness no longer stimulated him. He craved the pulsing energy that only the light could now bring him.

Hermione felt a sudden twinge of pain in her head. Softly cursing, she rubbed head with her cold hands. She had retreated to the girl's dormitory after her second fight with Ron for the day. Suddenly there seemed to be this void between them. She could not help but think of him with hostility, with anger. She did not know why it was beginning to seem like Ron was an enemy.

"This is my chance," she said firmly to herself. "My last chance."

Her heart beat, which she had always taken for granted, now seemed like a blessing. Just being alive filled her with a kind of hope that she had never experienced. The first and foremost human instinct is that of self-preservation. Hermione was feeling it now with great vigour. Life was beating through her like the elixir of the gods, and she knew that she could not give it up lightly. It was a gift.

Hermione...life...precious...waste not...live...breathe

A precious gift, that must not be taken for granted again. She sat upright with a jerk. The room was empty. But she had thought that she heard an echo. Perhaps it was her muddled mind playing nasty tricks on her. She spread herself out on the four poster bed and breathed in a deep gulp of air. Hermione reflected on how amazing it felt simply to be breathing. The process of inhalation and exhalation, the rising and falling of her chest all of a sudden seemed so magical. She was alive, and that was an incredibly beautiful feeling.

"It would be a crime to waste this," she whispered.

Waste...no waste...life...drink it up...live it...take it in...

Her fingers brushed lightly over her face, making sure that this was not just a pleasant dream created to rock her slowly into the infinite cradle of death. Life never fails to amuse those who have been faced with the loss of it. She got up from the bed, feet tingling as they touched the floor. Without quite focusing on where she was going Hermione left the girl's dormitory. She continued on to the common room and then out into the hallways of the castle. Everything was strangely quite similar, yet oddly different at the same moment.

Hermione felt like she had been wandering for a long time before a professor strode in her direction and stopped in front of her. She was a tall, thin lady swathed in all black. Both her eyes and hair were dark, with a sparkle of mischievousness. However she seemed extremely serious as she approached Hermione.

"Are you Hilary Addams?" the Professor asked.

Hermione nodded slowly.

"I am Professor Naiadia. The Headmaster wishes to see you."

Hermione stood up and followed the lady round the twists and turns of the castle. They passed the usual suits of armour and the like but there were also gargoyles that had most definitely not been there when Hermione had last been at school. She later swore on her life that a few of them had tried to bite her as she passed. Some of them made hissing noises and Hermione was beginning to feel very edgy when at long last they came to the largest and ugliest of the gargoyles that Hermione had seen so far.

"Phoenix feathers!" Professor Naiadia said.

The gargoyle bounced to one side and the wall, which had been behind it split in two. Hermione hesitated as the spiral staircase began to move upwards.

"Don't be shy dear."

The Professor gave Hermione a small shove onto the stairs. She heard the wall close behind her as the stairs began to rise to mind-boggling heights. At when they reached the top she dizzily stepped off and went through a gleaming oak door into Dumbledore's office. For a moment the spinning silver instruments distracted her but before long the headmaster himself decided to make an appearance.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," he said with a large, genuine smile. "Miss Hermione Granger. Feel free to take a seat."

"H-how did you-?" Hermione started.

"Know your name?" Dumbledore asked. "Well my dear Miss Granger, myself and the Sorting Hat do have an interesting conversation or two every once in a while."

"So you know about Ron and Draco too?" Hermione questioned.

"Yes, I was going to bring Ronald and Draco up here for a word, but you were the easiest to locate," he peered at her over the top of his half-moon glasses. "I am obligated to ask however why you found it necessary to avoid using your real names. And why exactly the names on our enrolment list are not your real names. It's not a simple or strictly legal thing to fool that register."

"It's a long story Professor," Hermione sighed.

Dumbledore smiled as he sat in his chair. "Well luckily I'm not a busy man."

Hermione shakily sat down in a plushy armchair and proceeded to explain the whole twisted story. Dumbledore seemed to look concerned as the story progressed. His facial expressions, while hard to read where changing continually.

"Sent back in time by a spirit to prevent the birth of our world's future hero," Dumbledore mused. "Did you not find that strange to some degree?"

Hermione nodded guiltily. "Yes. But I want another chance more than anything."

"I will not pretend to be all-knowing of the spirit world and it's intentions. All the advice I can give to you is this; even though you have been told to change events in time, be extremely careful what you choose to change. Things do not always turn out the way you predict they will. And spirits; even powerful ones do not always work for the greater good of society."

Hermione left Dumbledore's office feeling angrier than when she had entered it. Everyone seemed to be against her. She did not understand why everyone was frowning upon her for wanting to have another chance to do something with her life.

"I'm not giving that up," she whispered to herself. "Not for anyone."

Don't surrender...life...waste not...live life...live it...succumb...

Ron returned to the group with a heavy heart when Hermione stormed off. His mind could not stay fixed on the frivolous conversation that James and Sirius had started up. Everything seemed to be slowly sliding away from his mind. The speech became more and more incoherent to Ron's mind. Then slowly but surely the talk began to die down and the excitement of that first Hogwarts day was wearing thin.

It was then that Ron noticed someone was missing. Remus had disappeared into the crowd, just as he did so easily in the future. He always left an aura of mystery floating away after him. Even in these younger days it was easy to see the burden behind his eyes. At least if you knew the right way to look. There were certain angles, and particular lights where Remus's pain shone straight through.

Ron chose to follow Remus's example. He slunk away from the group with the heavy weight of conscience lying squarely upon his shoulders. He, like Hermione, had felt that rush of being returned the life that had been stolen from him. But now that the adrenaline had faded away he was left with little energy. He could not help thinking that perhaps he was going to lose both his best friends to the circumstances he now faced.

Ron....forget...it...them...

Slowly Ron shook his head. This day had really worn him down. He felt defeated and broken. Thoughts began to dance in his head of how much easier things would be if he could just close his eyes and make it all disappear. Perhaps the prospect of eternal nothingness really was not that horrifying. Now, Ron would have welcomed it. This was completely different to those past fights between himself and Harry. It wasn't one of those petty arguments that would heal over time. This time Harry was gone for good.

Though Ron could not remember walking the distance, he had arrived at his dormitory. The room looked hauntingly familiar, like some one had simply changed things around for a joke. It was nearly impossible not to expect Neville to trip up the stairs into the room, or to half-see Seamus and Dean come barrelling around a corner. It was hard to believe that the curtains around the bed next to his were going to be drawn around someone that was not Harry.

Pain...don't need...forget...let go...hurts...fading...nothingness...

Ron jumped suddenly. He half-thought that he could hear a voice. Some of the curtains were flapping in the breeze. Impulsively Ron ventured over to close the window. Then he noticed that there was someone sitting outside, on the roof in the bone-chilling wind. Alone in the darkness Remus sat staring up at the crescent moon. Ron clambered clumsily through the window, and sat beside the other boy. Cold gusts of air rushed by, wreaking havoc with their hair. Ron was glad to feel the cold. It reminded him that he could still feel.

"Why did you come out here?" Ron's voice was mostly swept away by the wind.

Remus did not look away from the sky. "Sometimes having people around is too much."

Ron nodded silently. The winds continued to whip and howl around them in a symphony of agonised voices.

"I can understand the darkness," Remus said. "It is always the same."

"Can't say the same for people ay?" Ron tried to sound conversational.

He was answered only with the wind's melodies. It rushed over the grounds, rustling the grass and creating ever-changing ripples on the lakes smooth black surface.

Remus shifted uncomfortably. "People can hurt you."

There was an unseen power conveyed in those words. With those four words Ron suddenly saw a snapshot of what it felt like to be Remus. For a moment his guarded self had dropped and Ron had glimpsed the pain of growing up while having to deal with lycanthropy. The inner scars obviously ran deep. It was already easy to see that they would never properly heal. But then, it was already stunningly obvious that he was learning to hide them.

Ron...new need...forget...him...forget...all...disappear...

Then the spell of silence was suddenly broken as Sirius and James careened onto the roof, closely followed by Peter. The wind's chilling whistling was overpowered by laughter, and that little bit of the real Remus that Ron was startled by faded into oblivion. The five boys sat on the rooftop for hours, discussing all the events of the day.

Eventually eyes started to grow heavy, and the time between yawns drew closer together. James was the first to crawl away towards bed. The others had a bit of a laugh at him, then continued to try and identify the many constellations that shone brightly in the blackness. Except for the pale, sickly light of the moon and stars everything was clothed in jet black. Peter was the next to crawl back through the window into the dormitory. There was a crash as he tripped over the trunk at the foot of his bed and a choice curse word. Then all was silent once more.

This silence was different though. Whereas the silence that hung heavy between Ron and Remus had been a cautious silence of pain, this silence was comfortable. As Ron's eyes began to close for longer and longer periods of time he too headed towards the comfort of bed. Sirius and Remus however, were awake for far longer.

Sleep...forgetfulness...fade...memories...pain...forget...succumb...

Draco sat upon a dark green armchair in the Slytherin Common Room with his eyes tightly shut. Even the thought of time travel had always given him migraines, let alone this. Seeing his father had been strange. Draco had never before looked at his father and seen a part of himself staring back at him. His head was throbbing, and his thoughts were all beginning to run together in a warped mess.

At any moment he would have welcomed the chance to fade back into nothingness. It had a calming effect on him. Draco had always believed that he thought too much. But now the events of the day were crowding in on him and strangling all thought of sleep from his mind. He had never been prone to attacks of insomnia before, but now he highly doubted the fact that he would ever sleep again.

You...don't...care...stay quiet...be strong...clear

One of the biggest eye-openers had been his encounter with Snape, where he played the hero. Draco had always viewed Snape with something close to idolisation. But today the image he had of his future Potion's master had been altered forever. Snape was not immune to attacks from his peers. He had his weaknesses, his vulnerability. Just like everyone else that Draco had ever known. And for that Draco despised him.

The Common Room was starting to empty now. It was getting late in the night, even for the most vampirish of the Slytherins. People slowly began to leave, flowing away towards the dormitories with a stifled yawn. Tired feet tripped and lingered too long on the steps. A boy sheepishly retired to bed after rolling out of the chair he had fallen asleep on. Before too many stars had slipped out of the night sky there were only two people left in the room. Draco and a girl with long, sleek, dark hair and dark eyes.

She seated herself in a chair beside the fire, sometimes getting up to pace the room. She was beautiful in a dangerous way, like a lioness. She moved like one too, with limbs of liquid steel. For a moment she eyed Draco off before crossing the room to join him.

"So you're the new Drayce material then?" she asked, voice strong.

Draco nodded; suddenly knowing how the antelope felt when cornered by the beautiful lioness.

"I hear that you saved Snapey boy," she gave a half-grin. "That kid is always going to need saving."

Draco nodded again. Somehow he felt as if the vocal chords in his throat had all tightened up in her presence. But Draco couldn't help feeling that way. The way she sat always suggested that she was coiled waiting for a killing strike.

"The strong, silent type then," the girl purred. "Can you not speak or do you just not want to?"

"I can talk," Draco retorted, somewhat violently.

The girl grinned evilly. "So the kitten has claws."

"I'm no kitten," Draco sneered. "And my claws are sharper than you think."

"Nice to see someone around here with a slight backbone," she extended a delicate hand. "Bellatrix Black."

"Draconis Szeer."

"Strange name," Bellatrix commented.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I could say the same for you. How do you know Snape?"

"Wouldn't you love to know," Bellatrix purred once more. "I'll see you round."

Draco watched Bellatrix slowly make her way up the stairs towards the dormitory. Every step she took was strong, purposeful. He had known her, in the future. She had seemed even wilder then. But here she was much prettier. A wicked smile spread across Draco's face as he settled back into the armchair and began to stare into the fire once more.

What they don't...cant hurt them...power...power...silence...succumb.