IndestructiGirl's Claire Bennet is possibly the best canon character on Tumblr. Her writer is certainly one of my favorite people. Claire synchronizes so brilliantly with countless canons, and her wit and sass and enthusiasm are just so much fun to write. I don't know how old Hayden was when she was in Remember the Titans but I have zero trouble picturing that little firecracker pulling Noah and Claude's arms off as she runs to see the train.
Noah, naturally, is disdainful and distrustful of paranormal things, and Claude, naturally, is a vehicle for me to make Chris Eccleston references in general and Ninth Doctor references in particular-- sorry Claude. (He is so impressive!)
The girl with the cat is, perhaps obviously, Sally Sparrow, as indicated by the hyperlinked Easter Egg-- a turnabout to the hyperlink Kimber received in the "Double Double" drabble. While Caite didn't immediately volunteer to be part of the bigger project, I couldn't not include her Sally, and she graciously accepted this. Considering how big a part Sally and Caite would later play, I am infinitely glad.
I wonder, retroactively and retrospectively, if Claire chats with the train-driver the way that T.J. later does. It's a nice bookend, if one I didn't initially see coming.
I wonder, too, why Claude doesn't like Tommy so much. I mean, superficially of course it's just Nine reacting to Ten and going "that one's a bit dodgy," but in continuity, I'm not sure. Maybe it was because Tommy's parents are later revealed as having died in Fiendfyre-- anyone who messes with such Hellish forces has it coming, maybe Claude's decided. Bet you he saw plenty of that in The War.
Rich Parker Jr. started as an AU version of Spider-Man inspired by the trailer for "Amazing Spider-Man," and while I've since not done as much with him as I really should have, his relationship with IndestructiGirl has been one of the greatest highlights of my roleplaying career. As in his main!verse, Rich's surviving relative is not May but Ben, and Ben serves as his Zen mentor through times of trouble-- hence The Spider-Mantra. His URL was originally DoubleHelixWeb, but he was redubbed RichParkerWasHere at WinterMae's dream-inspired suggestion. Rich wears a hoodie here because of TASM's use of the hoodie, because the hoodie's reputation for thuggishness in England, and because that particular hoodie is a meme in RIch's main!verse relationship with Claire.
Both Tommy and Harold live at "Wool's Orphanage," which is the name that the films give to the orphanage which raised Tom Riddle. Another reason for Wizarding folk to be leery of these two, I suppose, but I couldn't resist the connection.
Ah, Willow. Ah, Giles. I wish I'd done more with these two, to be perfectly honest, but packing Willow off to America in Year Four a) established that Potter!ized versions of Buffyverse events were happening off-camera; b) deprived our protagonists of Willow's fantastic powers for purposes of drama and c) illustrated that there would be very real consequences for what Willow had done, because she's not herself a Chosen One. This, unfortunately, very much shortchanged the very lovely WitchofManyNames of more screentime, but at the same time I kind of felt it was necessary for plot-- plus she got to make eerie future cameos and save the day at the end!
The dress is a reference to one Willow wears in the Season Eight comics of "BtVS," specifically the one in which she descends to save the castle base early on and defend it from Amy and her army of Scottish zombies. Willow and Giles are apparently working and staying with The Devon Coven, an off-camera force for good in The Buffyverse that comes up occasionally.
Not one but three individual Roses asked to be Potter!ized for this story, and while initially I had a bit of a panic about it, I think I did okay? Having one initial Rose divided into three. I tried to tailor the personalities of the dividual Roses to their individual players' portrayals-- RoseTheBadWolf (largely of Twitter) became Rose the Cunning (and the werewolf) because she was the most roguish, APinkAndYellowGirl became Rose the Loyal because she most embodied Rose's friendliness in my mind, and DoctorsCompanionx (later PinkAndYellowTyler, now sadly deleted and blogging from her personal of SuperMerLocked) became Rose the Brave because she was the most stalwart portrayal.
Livid Jackie Tyler is the most fun to write. I almost feel sorry for Pete, here. Almost. He's kind of a prat at this point but he grows up later.
KimberMac's main!verse has not had the best childhood, about which I know very little so I just sort of allude to it by implication. But I cheekily took the opportunity to give her Potter!version the best maternal influence I could think of for a young genius adventurer-- Sarah Jane Smith. This is I think the Sarah Jane from K-9 and Company-- the one from Sarah Jane Adventures we see 26 years later-- though of course this SJ's already living at Bannerman Road. Sarah Jane is a reporter for The Daily Prophet and she already doesn't like Rita Skeeter's methods, and quite right too.
I enjoyed coming up with a magical steampunk version of K-9! The reason he's called "Pluto" here is because that was a name that they originally considered for the canon version of the tin dog, but wisely decided that maybe Disney would take exception to this. Canis 9 is, also perhaps obviously, a callback to his canon name, and a play on the naming conventions for certain brands of flying brooms. The nice young woman from Dover who initially made the dog for the Smith family was KindledByHeart, who we'll later meet as Joanna, The Clock Tower Ghost. And of course I had to point out that Pluto's demotion as a planet met with as much ridicule from The Wizarding World as it did from The Internet and Gus from Psych.
Kim's owl Nimue makes an on-camera appearance, here, though her attitude towards early mornings is perhaps biographical more of KimberMcLeod herself, to which KimberMac alludes. xD
The redhead hurrying to get on the train is, of course, NotSoLittleAriel, having taken a last dip in The Thames to sustain herself for the trip to school on The Express. While her main!verse OUAT-OC faceclaim is Karen Gillan, it seemed obvious to me that her childhood fc should be Caitlin Blackwood, a fact that is alluded later. I already had the beginnings here in mind of Ari's not being able to speak on land because Mermish, and that her gills served as the Homomorphic equivalent to Animagus "tells." ))
Potter!verse, Track 100: "Save Rock and Roll." (Fall Out Boy ft. Elton John)
The pitch was burning.
His lungs were burning.
Cold clammy fingers clutched his throat-- he couldn't breathe-- couldn't call for help to no-one anymore--
--even as his hearts thudded in his chest, they sank--
--even as he had come this far only to die like this--
--a familiar sound detonated in the darkness nearby, and the unmistakable whisper-hiss of metal through the air--
"HAVE AT THEE!"
Oh thank God. Thank you God, it's Darkholme.
Blades akimbo, hacking and carving, Kurt came crashing down out of the night.
Indeed, Inferi were bloodless-- slashing would have no discernible effect-- but removing limbs, chopping off arms, amputating legs-- this would severely limit their mobility--
--and Kurt Darkholme had already had plenty of practice this evening chopping off heads.
The Inferius that had first reached Tommy found its choking arms removed from their shoulders, then its skull from its neck, and with a whirl that didn't even slow for a second Kurt tossed Tommy one of his swords.
Tommy lunged up, reached out, and snagged the saber from the air, twirled the hilt in his grasp, spun like a dervish--
--the two swordsmen fought back to back, making their stand--
--jaws set, eyes flashing in their darkness--
--cold, clutching corpses falling down again under metal colder still--
--Kurt's wand leaped from his sleeve into his free hand and he cast bursts of Sanctifyre--
--Tommy fought like a man possessed--
--he was gonna live. He didn't wanna go.
--and when they had parted the crowds enough so that they had a second's breathing room, Kurt clasped Tommy's hand with his.
"Come with me if you want to live."
BAMF.
*******
The Three Roses reached the space inside The Clock Tower and were breathtaken, stunned, at the havoc raging outside. Thank Heavens that the monsters from the future were still unable to fully manifest, still visible and vulnerable only to Dumbledore's Reserves and their allies. Oh, but those were monsters indeed.
"We should be down there," Rose the Brave insisted, which was very her.
"You bet your arse we should," Rose the Cunning shook her head, which was also very her as she was delightedly redefining herself.
"Bofh uv you know we can't," Rose the Loyal noted, though she would be lying if she claimed she said this without reluctance. "We've got a plan. Tommy's plan. Well. Kim's plan that she lets Tommy fhink he fhought uv."
"Plan's not much good wivvout his nibs, izzit?" Rose the Cunning pointed out, glancing about-- they were alone there except for The TARDIS and the unflying carpet.
"He'll be along, I'm sure," Rose the Brave smirked faintly.
--and before her voice finished fading in the stony, airy space, there came another noise.
A strobing, whooshing, vworrrping sound.
The sound of The TARDIS. Only angrier.
Rose the Brave stared in mystified wonder. "...here he is now?"
...except it wasn't Tommy, wasn't The TARDIS parking beside itself in a terrible conundrum of a paradox.
The shape that faded into reality was a man.
A man in red, with greying hair and movie-star features and a gauntlet older than worlds on his left hand. He was haggard, and he staggered, the sheer effort of appearing right on The TARDIS' Secret-Kept doorstep was murdering him where he stood--
--and yet there he was. The Basilisk.
Nial Ross.
He had landed in a balled crouch, as though some kind of murderous, temporally-displaced machine, but he rose without ceremony.
"Ah," he growled. "The Roses Tyler. The One-in-Three."
He glanced at The TARDIS, which, while unmoving, expressionless, literally wooden-- seemed Revulsed by him, Relashio, horrified and enraged by his very presence.
"And this," The Basilisk growled. "This thing. This curio cupboard that is its own curio. Can it really have caused me so much trouble?"
Three wands as one leveled at his head, unwavering, eyes grim, and in that moment all three Roses were Brave and Loyal and Cunning, all of them all of the above.
"You," growled Rose,
"get the Hell," growled Rose,
"away from her," growled Rose.
The Basilisk grinned at them, and clapped his hands once, his palm ringing against the metal of The Left Hand of God. "Oh, yes, this should be quite hilarious. The three blonde bitches--"
They didn't give him a chance to finish his sentence.
They hadn't been this united since they'd been a single little baby girl in The Powell Estate.
Three Weeping Angels had already suffered their combined wrath and were now just stonedust in a hall outside a loo.
And again with one voice The Roses roared: "BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"
*******
They sprawled in the grass a ways from the Quidditch pitch and Tommy hacked up smoke and the smell of sulfur-- he couldn't remember if he'd ever Apparated with Darkholme before, one might almost prefer Splinching--
--"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Kurt shook his head, "rough landing. I think-- I think re-entry is harder now, with--" he gestured helplessly at his face.
Tommy drew a shuddery breath, and gazed wide-eyed up at Kurt's face. At the bandage wrapped around his skull, at the darkly bloody patch where there once had been an eye.
And with a chill he remembered a young man in a burned-down future telling him about Mad-Eye Darkholme.
It's all still coming true, all of this it's been for nothing, it's all still coming true--
But before Tommy could demand to know who did this to Kurt, how this had happened, before the revelation of Sam Winchester unleashing The Power of Thor could further drive an icicle between his two hearts--
--before the memory of a terrible time yet to come could cripple his resolve--
--part of The Clock Tower's face exploded, in a concussion, a percussion, a repercussion with a fury that Hell hath none like-- bricks and bits of clock-face shattered and scattered--
--one of the bells tumbled end-over-end-over-end and landed in the couryard near The Entrance Hall, crushing a Judoon with its final CLONG--
"Unglaublich," Kurt breathed, horrified.
Tommy's hearts were in his throat. "Oh-- oh you said it, mate."
Then silver light coalesced out of the blackness, formed into a wolf, and even as the wolf flickered like a TV with a broken vertical hold, her words were a death-knell.
The Patronus' eyes flashed-- and it spoke with a Rose's voice, as panicked as she was enraged: "WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?"
Getting dropped out of the sky repeatedly, singed by lightning, suffering smoke inhalation and Inferius-throttling--
--he didn't say.
"What's happened?" he demanded. "Rose--"
"He's here," Rose fired back. "He's here. He's in The Clock Tower. He's found The TARDIS-- The Basilisk is here. We're holding him off best we can, but-- we rendezvoused up here as bluddy well planned but it sort of all falls apart wivvout you!"
Tommy clenched his teeth and that icicle got driven home after all-- "We're on our way! ROSE! HOLD ON!"
Tommy's eyes snapped to Darkholme.
Darkholme's hand snapped to Tommy's.
BAMF.
Another kind of darkness closed around them in the night, a hot red darkness full of screaming and the breath of Perdition and--
--normally this place was there-and-gone in the instant between the explosions that marked Kurt's dramatic entrances and exits, but for some reason this instant was elongated, protracted, streeeeeetched--
--and a voice like rusted metal rasping on the stone of a haunted tower crowed with overmuch delight: "REAPPAREO!"
And with a whiplashed cry, Decker and Darkholme thudded back into reality, into the ground, narrowly missing the stones of The Sundial Garden, well shy of The Clock Tower.
And, hovering over them, shrouding cloak billowing in tatters around her, a Carrionite cackled to see such sport. And then her finger pointed, and she screamed just as she'd done to intercept Kurt's ferocious Apparation-- "CARPE DIABOLUS!"
--and a Devil's Trap flared to burning life beneath Kurt, and Kurt screamed.
Tommy's hand flew for his wand-- he remembered it was gone-- he roared in frustration-- all he had was Kurt's sword against a Carrionite-- he couldn't help his friend, they didn't have time for this! "NNN--AH! LEAVE HIM BE, YOU MISERABLE CRONE!"
But even as Tommy prepared to throw himself to his death against the mystical hag-- Kurt held up a staying hand-- "It's all right, Thomas! I've got this."
And he reached up with both those eerie hands and pulled open his shirt as though to reveal a Superman "S," but what was beneath the white fabric was not Kryptonian-- but Enochian.
Angelic symbols-- Marks-- were carved into the light layer of fur that lined his flesh-- like brands, like tattoos-- the most ornate of scars. They were interwoven, interconnected-- carved into his skin by the rogue angel Zauriel--
They linked to The Light Mark with which McLeod had deputized him-- the light flowed from The Light Mark and bled into the rest of the Marks, causing the glow to flow in trenches and tributaries across his body--
--it was under their protection that Kurt had escaped the telekinetic grip of yellow-eyed Azazel--
--thanks to their synergy that he had "heard" Tommy's cry for help from across The North Sea--
--and by their power that The Devil's Trap had no hold over him.
He aimed his wand with a grim grin nearly blasted the Carrionite out of the air with one Stun.
"Do what you do best, Bruder!" Kurt bellowed to Tommy as the Carrionite recovered, redoubled her attack-- "RUN!"
Tommy's grip white-knuckled on the saber-hilt.
And he raised the blade to Kurt in a silent battle-cry.
And he turned to face The Clock Tower.
And he ran as though all Hell were at his heels.
********
Dust billowed--
--metal creaked as broken gears ground against splintered cogs--
--The Basilisk bled from the corner of his mouth--
--he was not amused.
"Who's the bitch now?" Rose the Cunning snarled.
He raised his metal fist--
"EXPULSO!" bellowed Rose the Brave--
--The Basilisk caught it, threw it back at her--
"PROTEGO!" Rose the Cunning Shielded both of them as the blast rebounded uselessly.
Rose the Loyal lowered her wand from casting her Patronus and whirled to join the fray-- "PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"
--he tore it from the air like spiderweb--
--threw it into a hail of arrows that The Cunning had unleashed at his face, they stopped as sharp as a Freezing Charm--
--then he pounded his fist into the floor and the shockwave knocked them off their feet like a blast on The Horn of Jericho--
--"ENOUGH!" he spat, flexing his knuckles. "Little pink and yellow gnats, the lot of you-- I will crush you like the insects you are--"
"Bluddy 'Ell you will," Rose the Cunning shot to her feet, even as the other two were still struggling to theirs, "this is for torturing Mae, this is for killing Reinette, you shit!"
The Basilisk snorted like a raging bull and flashed his metal hand out--
--crushing force blew Rose the Cunning backwards, she hit The TARDIS, somehow stayed standing--
"That," she reeled, tried to focus, tried to aim her wand, "that-- th' best you've got?"
But then another voice split the night.
"TYLER."
Four sets of eyes whipped in the direction of that voice, that name spat like an epithet--
And Harold Saxon hovered there in the air outside the blasted Clock Tower, lightning crackling from his fingers, from his pores, eyes bloodshot red with rage-tears uncried for a life unlived, and he told Rose the Cunning with gritted teeth: "GET OUT OF THE WAY."
Rose hit the deck with her sisters even as Saxon's first thunderstorm salvo interrupted The Basilisk's roar of betrayal.
********
The battle raged.
Rubber soles slapped earth as Tommy sprinted towards The Entrance Hall--
--everything blurred around him, breath heaved in his lungs--
--but somehow, his mighty brain still picked out isolated images around him--
--a green-haired woman he didn't recognize dragging down a giant with what looked like a battleship's anchor-chain, some kind of magnetic magic--
--and Ivan Jupiter, rather understandably, staring at her like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen--
--Isaac "Creeper" Harvey and Ivan's sister Hama helping an injured Mae Cardwell hurry through the cross-fire--
--Ari Peterson and Lady Romana fighting back-to-back, wands in hand--
--Sally Sparrow wading in the thick of things, Mac across her shoulders and her camera around her neck-- as much war reporter as warrioress--
--Rupert Giles lighting a Carrionite's cloaks on fire with his burning baseball bat--
--Tommy poured on the speed. He couldn't stop. He couldn't slow.
Neville Longbottom squared off against a Death Eater in the very doorway of The Entrance Hall, but with a passionate cry and the slash of his left hand, his Diffindo gashed the Dark Wizard across the chest and sent him tumbling.
Another Death Eater loomed behind Neville, and Tommy pounded up the steps, leaping at the doorframe, kicking off of it at an angle, improvised parkour muay-thai punch-- bashing the backstabber across the face with the hilt of Kurt's saber, sending them reeling and spitting teeth.
Neville whirled, momentarily taken aback by Tommy's agility, but he blew their half-conscious enemy across the floor with a "STUPEFY!"
Tommy fencing-saluted Neville even as he ran off again, backpedaling for a few steps so he could stay facing the Gryffindor. "Nice forehand, Longbottom! Looking sharp! Don't be stingy with the follow-through!"
Neville saluted him back with his wand, grinning gamely, determination in those eyes. "Just like you taught me!"
"Attalad!" Tommy nodded briskly and pelted off at full-speed as Neville once again rejoined the fray.
Curses and Jinxes shattered and scored around him, but on he ran, had to get to The Clock Tower Courtyard, maybe he could get someone to cast Ascendio on him-- would've been a handy spell to remember escaping Gas Mask Inferi in The Bliz, but nevermind-- take a shortcut to the top-- what he'd do when he got there without a wand, he had no idea, maybe The TARDIS could Requirement him a new one--
But even as he ran, he found himself startled when former professors Alvar and Gently fell in beside him-- Evelyn looked out of breath but was refusing to give up, and Gently-- Tommy had never seen Gently looking so alive.
"Where you're going," Gently told him, "you'll need this."
And to Tommy's everlasting astonishment, Gently handed Tommy his wand-- his lost stonesilver wand-- "What? What?"
"I said the same thing," Evelyn remarked, shutting down a Killing Curse mid-flight, she was getting better at her Protegos, "when he found it teetering on the Aeromancy battlements. I should really stop being surprised by this sort of thing."
"The moment you stop letting things surprise you," Dirk lectured her, "the moment The Universe will most take you by surprise."
"Fine," Evelyn snorted, "you've delivered your little sermon, we've run your errands, now can we barricade ourselves somewhere defensible instead of running around like a couple of first-years?"
"Yes," Dirk nodded, "that's an acceptable course of action."
He squinted at Tommy. "Best of British, Decker. Don't let the side down. Be where you need to be."
"Sir," Tommy nodded, still unable to believe the feel of his wand in his hand, the reassuring presence of an old friend, a friend that had met him on the same day he'd met Blue, "yes sir." His eyes darted to Evelyn-- "Be all right. Please."
Evelyn smiled faintly, grabbed his forearm, gave it a quick squeeze. "I'm always all right."
Alvar and Gently split off, heading in another direction entirely, and Tommy powered on through his encroaching exhaustion--
--a sword in one hand and a wand in the other.
He knew now why Gently had seemed so vital.
He had a purpose, and that purpose burned in his dark dark eyes.
He rounded a corner, sprinted through a hallway full of owls and a very frustrated cat--
--the stairways almost seemed to cheer him on, swinging under him so that he could leap from one banister to the next one, cutting the corner off, ignoring gravity--
--the third floor was that much closer--
--his knees churned, his arms pumped, his hearts cannonfired--
--the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor blurred past--
--he skidded sharply to a halt, a curse falling from his lips.
--a massive contingent of Death Eaters blocked the hall, opposed by assorted students and teachers--
--and the four suits of armor that had formed a barbershop quartet, barricading the corridor, their backs to Tommy.
"Sir Didymus!" the Gryfindor armor bellowed, he was called Sir Olorin, glancing back over his shoulder at Tommy, and the purpose must still have been burning in Tommy's eyes because "You look like a man on a mission!"
"I am at that," Tommy nodded, taking a breath. "I need to get to The Clock Tower. It's a matter of a lot of lives and a lot of deaths."
"As it happens," mused the armor in Ravenclaw heraldry, Sir Aiwendil, "noble quests are a forte of ours."
"Might we be of some assistance?" Sir Istarion inquired, dusting off the badger on his shield with the flat of his blade.
"Are we even going to ask him why he's going to that blasted tower?" demanded Sir Curumo, his voice a hiss through his visor.
"It's to save The Roses," Tommy answered hurriedly, let's go let's go let's go, "and the world."
Curumo almost seemed to squint at this. "We do like The Roses. Such lovely voices. The world-- I suppose it could do with a bit of saving. These modern Slytherins never were up to Merlin's standard."
"Thank you," Tommy nodded seriously, sincerely, "thank you."
Sir Olorin raised his sword, squared his shield-- they formed ranks around Tommy, protecting him with their armored bodies-- and Olorin roared-- "CHARRRRRRRRGE!"
They crashed through the raging skirmish, shoving aside combatants from each side-- blades batting and slashing, shields buffeting--
"FORWARD!" Olorin's voice rang out, its powerful baritone, even as he cleaved a Death Eater in twain, "FORWARD DAMN YOU!"
Istarion swore colorfully as a Jinx hit him and he started to rust rapidly-- but Tommy raised his wand and drove the rust back with a fierce "ARMATUS REPARO!" --Istarion nodded to him manfully and then smacked a Death Eater off of his feet with his shield--
--Aiwendil drew a crossbow from his belt and with a single calculated shot knocked the wands out of two Death Eaters' hands--
--Curumo cut a Death Eater down with a Lochaber axe and snarled-- "SALAZAR WOULDN'T GIVE TUPPENCE FOR THE LOT OF YOU!"
--and they were through, bursting through the doors into The Clock Tower Courtyard, Tommy did his best not to make a face at the smell of the pear tree--
"Almost there, Sir Didymus!" Olorin gloried--
--but Tommy had to stop and stare up at the tower itself, lightning crackled around it, fractured sound and jagged light--
"Saxon," he dreaded.
"THOMAS!" a voice cried above them, and Tommy and the armors glanced up with surprise-- for a moment it had sounded like one of The Roses--
--but Joanna the Clock Tower Ghost descended, criss-crossing spells passing harmlessly through her-- "I'VE FOUND HIM, HE'S DOWN HERE!"
And cackling along behind her, still delighted by his own aim with the Snargaluffs, grinning like a mad thing-- "Decker? I hardly know 'er!"
Joanna pointed at Tommy-- "Peeves. Help him! He's got to get to the Tower!"
"Oh," Sir Istarion shook his helmet, "your poor Tower--"
"It's all right," Joanna dismissed, "Sir Knight, but thank you-- what fun is a clock you never get to fix?"
Peeves stared down at Tommy. "You're not half the fun that Potty is, but I suppose it's not out of my way. But we have to do this right."
He swung up a pointing finger, pointed up at The Clock Tower-- and an instant later, spurred by his spectral telekinesis, something blurred from the top of it, swooped down--
--scooped up Tommy--
--the carpet.
Tommy stood astride his flying carpet, powered not on its own steam but a poltergeist's glee, and the old familiar joy filled his hearts alongside the purpose that smoldered in his gaze.
"You have to say it," Peeves crowed, "I had to put my Mary Quite Contrary impression on hold for you, the least you can do is give me a show!"
And as the world fell away behind him and the shaking, shockquaked Tower loomed before him, Tommy drew breath into his beleaguered lungs and bellowed with all the force of his purpose.
"ALLONS-Y!"
********
He cut a cunning figure, there on that carpet, an inspiring sight indeed.
And while she was far from earshot, far from the ringing of that call to arms, Sally Sparrow could see him through the magical telephoto lens of her camera, and she snapped a shot of him, framed against the dark of the sky.
She lowered her camera, then, and grabbed her wand once more--
--right away, she saw two Death Eaters had pinned two seventh-year Ravenclaws, badly wounded them, they were going in for the kill--
--Sally whipped up her wand, ready to cast Protego and hurriedly coming up with follow-up spells, illusions and invisibilities to get the wounded students out of danger--
--but then Mac dug alarmed claws into her shoulders, and Sally's gaze snapped upwards, a chortling Carrionite descended upon her with finger pointed--
"SECTUMSEMPRA!" crowed the twisted creature--
--Sally threw herself sideways--
--Mac springboarded off of her, launching in the opposite direction--
--the Carrionite's spell carved a swath between them, Sally felt grazing, horrible gashes split open on her back, her trunk, her legs--
--Mac lost the corner of an ear--
--but they lived.
Laying in the grass bleeding, Sally nevertheless whirled her wand to bear once more-- "RICTUSEMPRA!"
The Carrionite crashed to the earth in a tangling, interminable cackle, wheezing with agonized glee--
--Sally forced herself, staggering, to her feet--
--but those two Death Eaters were long gone.
Those two students were already dead, their two pairs of eyes forever frightened and staring.
And at the sight of them, long-brave Sally Sparrow fell to her knees on the ground, and something that seemed quite necessary and irrevocable broke inside her.
Potter!verse, Track 90: "Werewolves of London." (Warren Zevon)
The two of them emerged from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, looking rather chuffed with themselves.
"Wish we could've seen the look on 'is face, yeah?" Ron mused, adjusting his armload of Basilisk fangs. "When you stabbed the fhing?"
Hermione was giddy, practically bouncing up and down in her elation, very nearly walking on air without the aid of a wand-- "Oh, you are brilliant. The look on his face-- you could even call him rude names in Parseltongue!"
Ron's grin split his face, he could not in recent memory recall when Hermione had ever been this delighted with him.
"Rude names," he instructed her mock-sternly, "are serious business to us Parselmouths, the first fhing they teach you on the the tapes."
As they turned to proceed down the corridor, however, they stopped sharply--
--the corridor was blocked by three fearsome-looking statues.
Angels with contorted faces, and outstretched, clawing fingers.
"Eyugh," Ron blinked, as Hermione only increased her scrutiny. "Ugly looking fhings, ehn't they? And what're they doing offuv their plinfhs?"
"I think someone must have cast Piertotum Locomotor," Hermione declared with nigh-omniscient reasoning. "Summoned the statues to the castle's defense? Though why they're not moving now is anyone's guess."
"I dunno," Ron frowned. "Your guess'd probably be better'n mine."
Hermione turned to look at him, ignoring the statues. "You can still say that? After the brainwave you had to get Basilisk fangs?"
Ron glanced away from the statues to meet Hermione's gaze--
--time seemed to bulge around them, as though the moment was becoming longer than it was supposed to be--
--one of the statues' hands twitched towards Ron's red head--
"REDUCTO!" three voices cried out in absolute perfect concert, three voices that were one voice.
The statues shattered into dust, and Ron and Hermione looked up in startlement, coughing and sputtering, to see Rose the Cunning coming from one direction, and Roses Brave and Loyal coming from the other.
"Not sure what that was about," Hermione frowned,
"but fhanks, I guess," Ron finished her sentence, though neither of them noticed that that's what had happened.
"Trust us," said Rose the Brave, "those weren't friendlies."
"You two all right?" wondered Rose the Loyal.
"Yes, quite," Hermione nodded easily. "But we need to get to Harry."
"Shift, then," Rose the Cunning gestured in a giddyap sort of way. "Fhings are getting noisy out there."
As the two of them hurried off, armloads intact, Hermione glanced over her shoulders at The Three Roses, who had stopped to hug in the middle of the corridor, rejoicing that they were together, that they were all okay.
"You know," she murmured as they went, "the name 'Rose.' It's a lovely name. My parents always told me they loved that name."
Ron got a surprised, knots-in-his-stomach look on his face. "Wazzat mean, then?"
"Oh," Hermione blushed a delightful shade of pink, "just-- future reference."
Potter!verse, Track 88: "Let The Flames Begin." (Paramore)
Her House had already ascended the stairs to The Great Hall, but she had lingered far behind, walking through chillingly dark and empty corridors in her cognitive dissonance.
Rose the Cunning put a hand through her hair and surprised herself by finding tears on her face. She was done. So done. With her House, with her classmates, with these people that for so long she had tried to coddle and cozy up to.
No more.
She wanted out. Out from under that damned Slytherin name.
Rose hesitated-- she heard muttering.
Somehow she'd found her way up to the first floor from the Slytherin Common Room, and it was from an Arithmancy classroom that she heard the muttering. Arching an eyebrow, hesitant, she nevertheless peered in--
--and saw a familiar face.
Her face, essentially.
Just a bit more... translucent.
Joanna the Clock Tower Ghost hovered by the dark lit windows of the classroom, gazing worriedly at Peeves-- who held The Sorting Hat in front of him and stared at it oddly-- oddly even for Peeves.
Joanna glanced over at Rose and smiled gently. "Oh. Hello, Tyler. I'm sorry, I'm-- I'm not sure which one you are."
"Neivver am I," Rose replied, quite truthfully, and then jutted her chin in Peeves' direction. "What's wiv the prankster?"
"I told him a battle was coming," Joanna explained. "And he just got this look on his face-- like he sometimes gets-- when he's having a feeling he can't identify, or hasn't had a lot of experience with. I see him staring to nowhere-- just puzzled. He's had so much fun undermining first Umbridge, and now Snape and The Carrows... but it's not easy for him, doing the right thing."
"I have a feeling," Rose admitted, "I know how that goes."
"So he's," Joanna gestured, though she held this truth to now be self-evident, "getting some help deciding."
Peeves put The Sorting Hat on his head, and then threw his arms out to the sides like tah-dah! ...but nothing happened, nothing happened, and Peeves lowered his arms dejectedly only to an instant later go tah-dah! once more.
Still nothing, and worse than nothing, as The Hat grimaced: "I'm really not sure what you want from me, poltergeist. I've known you almost since the beginning and I still have no idea what makes you tick."
Peeves scowled, yanked the hat off. "Stupid sombrero worth no dinero--!"
"Actually," Rose hesitated. "Can I see that if you're done with it?"
Peeves wheeled around to gaze at her. "Oh! Tyler! The Three-Fold Woman, still Folded, Spindled, and Mutilated."
Rose's lip twitched in evident displeasure at that particular terminology, but shrugged. "That's me." She pointed to The Hat. "I could use some help deciding, too. D'yeh mind?"
Peeves snorted, and rolled his eyes-- eyes which changed to ridiculous colors as he did so. "Suit yourself. But I know now why The Hatter was Mad-- 'twas his Hat that drove him so!"
Rose opened her mouth to wonder if The Sorting Hat really was The Mad Hatter's Hat, but then Peeves yanked it down over her head so hard that it covered her eyes and she was plunged into darkness.
Oh, yes, she heard The Hat's voice in her head, you again. That was an interesting Sorting, even for me, hearing the same name called three times in a row and Sorting each one into different Houses.
"See," Rose replied, with a wince, "that's just the fhing. Could I have anuvver go? I can't call m'self a Slyvverhin anymore, not after today, I just can't. The way they all cheered when Slughorn declared that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was on the march, I-- it makes me sick just t' fhink about it."
I am afraid, The Hat replied, with crisp professionalism, that my verdicts are final. That's how the magic works.
Rose shuddered, there, under that brim, unable to elucidate the rise of disappointment and frustration within her. "No. No-- because-- because The Weasleys, The Twins, they got sorted into the same House, yeah? Just-- just re-Sort me, I'll go wiv Hufflepuff, I know that's the catch-all."
I Sorted you into Slytherin, The Hat persisted, and I meant Slytherin, and I can effortlessly recall that you were excited about it at the time, eager to be rid of the other two triplets that had dogged your quest for identity, your ambition, all those years.
"But that was then," Rose insisted, pleading, "this is now."
Which brings me to my next point, The Hat continued. That was then. This is now. You are of course a very different person than you were when you put me on that first time, just as anyone would be.
The moment in which I Sorted you into Slytherin was the very definition of a defining moment. But you have had many other defining moments since then, I don't need to be a Legilimentic Artifact to see that. And you see, of course, then, that you are not a moment.
You are not any of those moments in particular.
You are a continuum.
Rose processed this hurriedly-- she wasn't stupid, of course, but still-- "I. I am?"
You are not anyone's definition of you, least of all mine.
If you wish to be over and done with Slytherin House, you don't need me to give you leave.
Just go. And live your life. And be who you were born to be.
Peeves yanked The Hat off of her with a gleeful "PEEKABOO!"
The room was surprisingly brighter out from under The Hat, lit by the stars outside and the glow of the two spirits. Joanna had scarcely moved at all since Peeves had shoved The Hat onto Rose's head, and Rose suddenly realized that only instants had passed since Peeves had done so.
Joanna winced. "...any joy?"
Rose nodded slowly, reached up, and peeled the Slytherin crest off of the robes she wore, just tore it off and threw it aside. "Actually. Yeah."
"Oh," Peeves snorted noisily, making fart noises by blowing through his lips, "that's just lovely, I'm having an amortal-life-crisis and I get bupkis, and she gets The Magic Eight-Ball to work on the first shake!"
With disdain, Peeves threw The Hat down on the floor near the windows. "I hereby declare you out of fashion."
Joanna gave The Hat an apologetic look. "Oh, Peeves."
But then Joanna looked back up at the chaotic entity and she saw... something different in his eyes, in his smile. Something new. Like he was on a turning point of something.
It was then that another glowing entity came sniffing 'round the door, joined by still another moments later. Two ephemeral wolves, her sister's Patronuses.
One of them squinted at her, and wondered: "You all right?"
Rose nodded easily, and gestured for them to lead her on, to lead her to the other two Roses. "Yeah. I'm sorted."
As she hurried off, she passed Filch coming the other way, who looked like he'd been sacked and that someone had kicked Mrs. Norris.
"Professor McGonagall," he mumbled, though Rose the Cunning could hear this well enough as she moved away with her werewolf ears, "humbly requests your assistance."
"You'll have to flip a coin," Peeves dourly replied.
"What?" Filch sputtered, incensed. Bad enough he had to come here begging and scraping when all the world had gone mad, now he had to jump through hoops?
"Please indulge him, Argus," Joanna requested gently. "I think it'll be for the best."
Filch despised Peeves, but Joanna, Joanna had always expressed a certain quantity of kind gratitude when Filch had maintained the cogs and gears and hands of her beloved Clock Tower, and so few beings in this place did appreciate Argus Filch.
And thus, muttering displeasedly to himself, he fished in his pocket, found a counterfeit Knut that he had once long ago confiscated from The Weasley Twins, and tossed it into the air with a thumb.
Rose was long gone by the time the coin landed, but she still heard Filch's incredulous swear, Joanna's delighted cheer, and felt the stones of the corridor tremble under her feet with the force of Nature that was Peeves' cackling, plane-engine laughter.
Potter!verse, Track 82: "No Light, No Light." (Florence + The Machine)
The two fresh howls tore up to the sky as if calling down The Moon, and the seven animals took off like a collective shot-- like a fusillade.
The wolves had little trouble keeping up with the stag and the great grim dog, but the fox and the cat had to hang back a bit-- somewhat envious of the rat's passenger seat.
Trees whicked past like telephone poles outside of a train window.
That wolf, the stag noted conversationally as they tore through the trees, just swore.
The dog whuffed cheerfully at this. You wanna wash her mouth out, Prongs? I thought you were spoken for.
Rose the Brave snorted. Yeh're welcome to try, mate. Results not guaranteed... at least not the results yeh're after.
You're Animagi, "Prongs" reasoned. But how are we communicating?
Classified Ministry technology, Tommy quickly supplied. We're Aurors. Attempting to retrieve an undercover agent bitten by werewolves in the line of duty.
Yuh-yuh-you're Aurors? the rat stammered, panicky, as he bounced up and down clinging to the back of Prongs' neck.
Shut up, Wormtail! the dog snapped, shooting the rodent a glare.
Yes, that's right, Mae interjected, making intuitive leaps of which Dirk Gently might perhaps be proud-- there had been a certain flavor to Wormtail's fear, and to Padfoot's recrimination, and y'all are unRegistered-- with werewolf problems o' yer own, 'pparently.
Rat's out of the bag, Padfoot, Prongs declared, resignedly.
We'd be willing to overlook this transgression, just this once, Tommy offered, talking out of his back end but being extremely confident about it, in exchange for civilian assistance in containing and retrieving our specimen.
They skidded to a collective halt as Padfoot and the two Roses sniffed around, reoriented-- and off they went again--
I don't like this, Prongs, Padfoot grimaced audibly. We take care of our own.
Yes, Prongs replied, shouldering his way through a copse of willows, shaking the leaves off his antlers as Wormtail yelped, but just our own?
Padfoot appeared to consider this for a moment, but then reluctantly conceded: Fine.
Prongs half-glanced over his shoulder at the quick brown fox. Prongs. This is Wormtail, and Padfoot, I'm sure you've already figured that out. We're looking for our friend Moony-- he got away from us this time.
Tommy squinted up at him as his black paws kicked up leaves of grass in his efforts to keep up.
He knew those names from somewhere. Claire had said something about a map-- he'd place it at some point.
For now, he replied: Codenames, is it? Plausible deniability. Well.
He glanced at the orange cat beside him, wryly considered Mae's ability to bounce back-- This is-- Pogo.
Mae the cat squinted at that, but she didn't appear to mind.
Encouraged, Tommy fired glances up ahead at the two wolves-- indicated Rose the Brave-- That's Valiant Wolf, and then Rose the Loyal, fondly remembering a certain dress she'd worn once upon a Yule Ball, the same cut as her sisters', but an amazing color on her, and Bronze Wolf.
I'm called-- he began, and then drew a blank on a name--
--Fantastic, Mae quipped cheerfully.
Tommy appeared to quirk an eyebrow at her. Well, he did like Roald Dahl.
Pleased to meet you lot, Prongs bobbed his head.
Speak for yourself, Padfoot harrumphed--
--but then they burst through the trees, through a chill mist that emanated from the ground like Glacius cast in a humid room--
--found a rocky hill face, at the bottom of which was crumpled a Muggle automobile and, curled up in a small pile, two human beings-- very likely Muggles themselves--
Their hearts sank, collectively, in more ways than one--
--because not only had the two werewolves beaten the other animals to those humans, the lycanthropes glancing at each other warily and territorially as they sniffed at the necks of their prey-- but hovering there above the ground, circling like vultures--
--were Dementors.
Which brings us, Tommy groaned, his introductions unfinished, to Bad Wolf.
Mae hissed, her tail inflating-- the sight of those swirling wraiths was enough to bring back every damn memory of that Hellish funhouse...
Bloody Hell, Padfoot snarled, what on Earth are Dementors doing away from Azkaban?
Perhaps just drawn here by rampant emotions-- werewolf rage or Muggle panic, a cocktail of the two? Fantastic wondered-- but at the same time he could start to see-- something-- coalescing around the edges of his vision-- sundered and fractured timelines-- part of that strange sixth sense that Castiel had awakened in him-- something was meddling in the timestream-- The Dementors had been sent here, like those Weeping Angels had been sent after Dirk... this was the work of their enemy, this was why The TARDIS had sent them off-course, they had to stop this.
Must've been the people-smell, Wormtail hesitantly suggested, that got Moony's knickers in a twist--
--and I fhink the Dementors've actually saved their lives, Valiant Wolf rumbled, taken the edge off uv the werewolves' bloodlust, they've not bitten anyone yet!
Not for long, Bronze Wolf keened. We've got to do somefhing!
I'll drive off the Dementors! Prongs declared, and in an eyeblink had already started reverting--
No, wait, Fantastic protested-- far too late.
--for when the pale, vaguely-familiar bespectacled lad emerged from stag-shape with a rat on one shoulder, drawing his wand, he immediately staggered, nearly fell to one knee-- in human shape, he was no longer insulated from The Dementors' collective effect--
--and at the same time, his scent shifted, and the two werewolves looked up from their comatose human quarry, saw a fresh and spry target--
Change back! Padfoot demanded. Hurry!
Prongs groaned, suddenly realizing his brave, sacrificial folly, but he didn't let it stop him-- he ignored Padfoot's admonition-- forced himself to hold his wand aloft--
--he whispered-- "Evans."
--and he stood upright like a bolt, wand flashing out straight, his resolve restored--
"EXPECTO," he unleashed, as though it were a battlecry, and his courage was sufficient to stir the hearts of all who beheld him, "PATRONUM!"
A stag exploded from his wand in a shower of pale light, head ducked and antlers glowing as bright as the moon overhead, plowing into the astonished Dementors and driving them back, back, back, tossing them this way and that--
--but as the Dementors scattered with the haunting and clammy mist, so too did their effect on the werewolves, and Moony and Bad Wolf snarled and snapped and bounded for Prongs--
--he wasn't as easy a target as the two fallen Muggles, but he was a challenge, and that instantly became the priority.
Moony dove for Prongs, jaws open wide, but Padfoot tackled him in mid-air-- Oh no you don't, mate! Prongs is a twat half the time but you'll never forgive yourself if you take a bite off him!
Bad Wolf had been right behind him, but Valiant and Bronze met her on the ground before she was able to pounce-- they snarled, they thrashed, they rolled--
Prongs stumbled back, tripped on a tree-root, Wormtail went flying with a scream--
--but Prongs was already changing back, his rack of antlers pressing out of his forehead under his jet-black fringe--
--he pocketed his wand again before his hands became hooves--
--as Moony hurled Padfoot aside, Prongs slammed Moony bodily against a tree-trunk with bone-rattling, leaf-flurrying force--
Moony bayed at him, snapped to drive him back, and retreated, seeking more defensible ground--
--Bad Wolf kicked Valiant across the snout with a hindleg, cuffed Bronze behind the ears with a forepaw, pelted after Moony-- apparently they'd formed an impromptu pack.
Padfoot and Prongs gave furious chase.
Fantastic shook his head, incredulous-- Valiant Wolf, get after 'em, I'll be right behind you-- Pogo, make sure Wormtail's all right-- Bronze Wolf, get the humans up and out of here!
To his, frankly, astonishment, none of them quibbled in the slightest, not one of them questioned-- Kim was officially their leader, but apparently in her absence Tommy was an acceptable lieutenant.
Off they stormed, "Fantastic" watched them go, but a few paces after he made to follow Valiant and the others, a glinting flash caught the corner of his eye-- he lurched back-- and a sword sunk into the dirt in front of him, neatly severing a root.
Rory the Roman stood over him, ache in his eyes and tension ratcheting every plastic muscle.
Ah, Tommy mused as his ears flattened back on his head, backing up a few paces in a hurry-- I was wondering when you were gonna show up.
********
Rose the Loyal-- Bronze Wolf-- bounded up to the small, crippled car just as the two humans were starting to stir.
Putting the car between her and them, she hurriedly reverted to human form, drew her wand-- and gestured-- "Reparo!"
The car shuddered, twitched-- metal creaked and contorted-- the cracks crawled back down the windscreen-- it was rather like an old Stephen King film, but she tried not to think about that.
--she sank to one knee, peered under the car, noticed that hoses and lines were snaking back into place, and quickly cast Refilling Charms on each of them to make sure that any lost fluids were immediately replenished.
As she stood, she found that the two humans were sitting up-- starting to look around, reorient--
--bah, there was nothing for it, she was going to have to ask them questions to straighten this out, she'd have to do magic in front of them and modify their memories afterwards-- Obliviate had never been her strongest spell, but she could manage it in a pinch.
"'Ello," she managed an encouraging smile. "You two got in a spot uv bovver, din'yeh? Don't worry, it'll all be sorted, soon. Just stick wiv me."
The auburn-haired gentleman helped the black-haired woman to her feet, they dusted each other off-- they looked pale, still, from the Dementors, but that might be just the moonlight.
"I'm sorry," the man shook his head, "but what's happening to us? We were just driving North, going to The Isle of Skye-- and we got-- struck by lightning?"
Just because Hufflepuffs weren't renowned for their intelligence like Ravenclaws were, didn't make them necessarily stupid-- Rose, like both of her sisters, was plenty bright-- she instantly made the connection with The Rifts, the descriptions that Rich and Tommy had brought back with them from St. Mungo's. Which meant they could have been propelled through time as well as space.
"That's a strange occurrence indeed," Rose frowned. "Pardon me for asking-- but what's the date? The date and the year. Just for-- making sure yehr not suffering ill-effects from th' lightning strike."
The woman nodded furiously. "Yes, that's what I thought must've happened. It's March-- March 1978. March 4th."
"'It's not just a date,'" Rose grinned cheerily, "'it's an order.'"
The man frowned, and apparently wanted to protest her flippant comment, but she kept going: "Can you tell me what time it was when this all happened?"
The man hesitated. "Yeh-- yes. I was looking at the radio right before it happened, it was eleven at night. We'd quite missed the last ferry to Skye but we were going to find a B-and-B and finish the trek in the morning--"
Rose held her wand up towards the sky, squinted at the moon, and did her very best to remember the lessons that Firenze had taught them about orienting yourself by the stars, determining dates and times and where you were-- her wand glowed with just a touch of Divination--
She blinked, murmured to herself: "Not in time, then, just in space-- same Bat-time, different Bat-channel-- an'-- blimey-- we're just outside Hogwarts. We're on the grounds."
"What's that, then," the man demanded to know, gesturing to the glowing stick in her hand, "when it's at home?"
"Some new, specialized weavver-sensing equipment," Rose replied, making a Back to The Future reference so smooth and blithe that Tommy might have proposed on the spot. "Making sure the anomaly's past us."
"I'm sorry," the woman frowned, leaning on the car for support, "this is all a bit too much-- who are you?"
Rose smiled softly at her, and at the gentleman, and she knew immediately that they would need a dash of truth, plain and unvarnished, in order to accept anything else.
"Rose," she told them, none of this "Bronze Wolf," "my name's Rose. And who are you two, then? On your way to Skye, d'you wanna see Dunvegan?"
The woman smiled gratefully, instinctively responding to the honesty of Rose's answer. "Yes. We were going to scatter my mother's ashes up there-- she wanted to be scattered at this old house she used to like, but that got demolished thirty years ago and she always did like castles and fairy stories, though she'd never admit it. My name's Jill--" she gestured to the man-- "this is my fiance, Gene. Gene Granger."
Rose the Loyal, as had been firmly established, was by no means stupid. She had visited the Gryffindor table lots of times to visit her sister, and overheard a certain adorable brunette wunderkind sheepishly talking about her parents' dental practice. So as soon as she heard those names, she stopped. And she stared.
"Oh," she blinked. "Right then."
********
"It's you," Rory scowled, pointing the sword at Tommy's wet, black nose, "under that fuzz, isn't it?"
Tommy flinched. You weren't supposed to remember.
"Yes, well," Rory snorted, "you did all right with that, I suppose, but memory charms are rubbish when your Lord and Master can play with your plastic brain cells as though they were-- plasticine. He didn't know, for a long time, about you. But he jolly well does now."
Tommy closed his vulpine eyes, ducked his vulpine head. "Oh. Oh, I'm sorry."
Rory smiled a damaged little smile. "Not half as sorry as I am. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SAVE ME."
Tommy's eyes snapped open and he met Rory's gaze hard-- I will. I am.
"It's too late," Rory replied, bitter, broken, his sword arm swinging limp by his side. "It's so too late. This was his big play. This was his grandstand move. This was the one time in all of history that he could take out a member of The Holy Trinity of The Second Wizarding War without everything crumbling out from under him-- not the blue-collar noble pureblood, as enduring as he is self-sacrificing-- not the half-blood with the heart of gold and the indomitable free spirit-- but the raw, ice-blooded, unflinching, number-crunching intellect-- here and now, she could be dead before she was ever born. Without her, they'd never amount to anything and Voldemort would reign supreme."
Rory laughed a laugh so hollow it echoed. "But no. But no. You've saved her. You've saved her from Dementors and werewolves and countless foresty monsters, oh my. You've saved her from me. Which means now he's coming to the party-- the big final battle, it's rolling in and he's rolling in with it and everything's going to be so much worse."
...final battle, Tommy breathed, then demanded, where? ...when?
"Dunno when," Rory shook his head, "soon. You are out. Of. Time. But it's going to be where it was always going to be."
Tommy's eyes widened, his left ear flicking in a terrified semi-circle. Hogwarts. But-- but he can't get there. The First Eternity Turner broke inside Hogwarts-- he can't intercede there directly, not inside the castle walls! He can't navigate in through the interference!
Rory squinted at Tommy, shook his helmeted head. "You really think he's going to let that stop him? He's going to force his way in, brute force, and damn the repercussions. He's coming. The Basilisk is coming-- and it doesn't matter how brave you are, or how clever, or how resourceful-- I'm no coward, even though I used to think I was-- it doesn't matter how much courage you've got-- he's got all the power, and he's going to grind you under his heel with that power to get what he wants-- which is a world ruled by The Dark Lord, or a world ruled by him in The Dark Lord's name. You can't stop him."
"You can't win. You can only hope to survive. Under one thumb or another."
...in the grass yards and yards away, a small bedraggled grey shape lay sprawled with wide, horrified eyes turned up to the canopy and the sky.
An orange paw padded onto the forest floor beside him. Wormtail, Pogo wondered, gently frowning down at him. Y' all right? I've been lookin' all over.
Oh, Wormtail replied, his mental voice a broken squeak, Agent Pogo, yes. Just-- just had my world turned upside-down for a moment.
********
Rose the Loyal stared at Mister and the future Missus Granger for a long, long holding of breath.
"Okay," she decided, letting that breath out in a rush. "I'm gonna hafta ask yeh to trust me. It's not gonna be easy-- but yeh've already seen some impossible fhings tonight, I just promise that this one's to yehr benefit. This one'll get yeh back on th' road t' where yeh wanna be."
She held up her wand. "Just... trust me on this."
Jill and Gene shared a wary, puzzled look, and Gene seemed to shrug: How else are we going to get out of this?
And Jill nodded. "Yes. Yes, please help."
Rose nodded gratefully. "Now. I need yeh to tell me. As specific as yeh can. Where you were when the lightning struck."
Gene popped open the glove box, unfolded the Automobile Association maps, squinted down at them. "Here. Here. Right after the A82 splits off from the A85 again."
"Right, gottit," Rose nodded, then closed her eyes-- held her wand up in front of her face, concentrated and-- touched the wand to the car. "Portus."
She had, after all, two years previously, watched as Romana had turned a car into a one-time one-way Portkey.
She smiled faintly, proud of her recollection, and then reached out to hover her fingers just over the surface of the car. "All right. When you're ready-- when you're ready, everyone at once, touch the car. Get a good grip. On fhree."
********
Bad Wolf springboarded off of a fallen tree and launched for Padfoot, teeth gleaming and spittle streaming from her jaws...
...Padfoot stood his ground, glared up at her, snarling, bring it on--
--but then Prongs swept into her path, caught her on his antlers, tossed her aside, using the momentum of her leap some sort of venison aikido--
--and then his back leg flashed out-- it was just a graze across Bad Wolf's jaw, but still-- it was like getting hit with a glancing blow from a car, and Bad Wolf staggered, disoriented--
--just in time for Padfoot to body-slam her to the ground, pin her on her back with his paws on her shoulders as she whimpered and averted her gaze-- lupine submission, reluctant surrender.
Padfoot stood there for a moment, and then backed off-- it seemed the gentlemanly thing to do-- permitting the rattled she-wolf to dust herself off and lick her wounds.
A moment later, Valiant Wolf came trotting up dragging an unconscious Moony by his left hind ankle. Yeh want I should just drop this anywhere, then? she wondered wryly.
For a moment, Prongs and Padfoot just stared at her.
Then Padfoot looked at Prongs. Bagsies.
*******
You may have given up all hope, Fantastic grimaced, Rory, but I haven't. And d'you know why? Because I know something the enemy doesn't know. I can see something he can't.
"Oh?" Rory scoffed. "And what's that then?"
Tommy stared at The Centurion for a moment, licked his chops. I can see that these events were always going to be part of the process, part of the unfolding of history. Granger was never going to get unborn, not from this-- we were always going to have this conversation, we were always going to do this.
Rory frowned, puzzled, but-- despite himself-- intrigued. "And what difference does that make?"
That for all his pomp and circumstance, Fantastic replied, for all his arrogance and incalculable power-- he's still just playing his part in the grander scheme, he's playing at being a chessmaster when he's no less a pawn than the rest of us. And the difference is-- I can change things. I can go places he can't. He's trying to think outside the box-- I own The Box.
You just need to give me something. Something I can turn against him.
Give me a lever and a place to stand. C'mon, Rory. Come on, you beauty.
Rory stared to nowhere for a moment. Then sheathed his sword, and narrowed his eyes at Tommy the Fox. "Mintumble. The secret is Mintumble."
Tommy had no idea what that meant, but he nodded eagerly, his bushy tail wagged-- Yes. Yes. Brilliant, brilliant Rory. Thank you.
Rory turned to go. "Don't thank me. Save us. Save the world. You and Potter. You're the only hopes we have."
There's nothing only about me, Tommy replied, Roranicus. Because I am not alone.
Rory faded off into the dark. "Must be nice."
Pogo and Wormtail approached, then, found Fantastic standing there-- looking cool and resolute.
Makin' friends an' influencin' people? Pogo wondered, glancing after the shadowy figure as her tail swished behind her.
I hope so, Fantastic replied. God, I hope so.
Wormtail didn't say anything. He just stood there on his hind legs, looking off in another direction, forepaws folded in front of him, looking quite shell-shocked.
He barely glanced up as Padfoot and Prongs herded a grumpy, dejected Moony into view. Bad Wolf and Valiant Wolf padded along shortly thereafter, Valiant gently consoling Bad Wolf-- who looked for all the world like she was trying to make the best of an embarrassing situation.
Mission success, I take it? Fantastic wondered.
Fat lot uv good you were, Valiant snorted back.
Fantastic flared one nostril. I had to take a meeting.
I hope, Prongs stepped forward, ducking his head so that Wormtail could scuttle onto an antler and take his usual spot, this squares us.
So far's th' law's concerned, Pogo promised him, we've never met.
Not that we would've let that stop us, Padfoot pointed out. We never have before.
Fair do's, Fantastic chuckled.
C'mon, Valiant jutted her head. Let's get this one back to base. It's past her bedtime.
Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs began to take their leave. Prongs turned back, just one last time, and nodded to Fantastic. Thank you for your service.
Fantastic felt a thudding in his chest as his Transfigured single heart skipped a beat. Thank you for yours.
As they left, however, that thudding in his heart didn't relent-- he staggered-- Blimey. Cor-- blimey-- what is that?
Valiant Wolf glanced warily at Fantastic, What's the matter? Eat a gingerbread man that didn't agree wiv yeh?
At the same time, Bad Wolf sniffed at the air, and growled with dismay.
Pogo stared at Fantastic, her whiskers in disarray. Something was going on between her Grace and her survival instincts and her feline intuition-- No. No. I know what this is.
With wide wide lamp-pool eyes, Pogo glanced at all of them as horror dripped from her telepathic voice: Th' Dementors have Th' Phone Box.
********
Gene and Jill staggered back from the car as though it had stung them, staring about in astonishment at the road, the-- they were back where they'd started.
"Good Lord," Gene gasped. "How is this possible?"
"I don't understand," Jill shook her head. "It-- it's not possible."
Rose smiled gently, and lowered her wand. "It's really not. I could tell you some jiggery-pokery hullabaloo about-- electrical disturbances causing wormholes, wormholes causin' electrical disturbances, all that-- Carl Sagan stuff-- but it's all just technobabble and me mate Tom does it better. It's just easier t' say-- it's not possible. But sometimes fhings that aren't possible are possible, and even though yeh're rational people I know yeh're intelligent enough t' accept two conflicting ideas at the same time. Yeh're actually two uv th' most accepting people I've ever heard uv."
Gene frowned. "You've heard of us?"
Rose smirked faintly. "Figure uv speech."
Jill laughed a weary laugh, and made to lean against the car again-- but then started and jerked her hand away from it, not sure if it was again going to catapult her through the world. She shook her head, looked at her hand, looked at the car.
"I'll tell you what," she mused, "my mum-- my dear oul' mum, gone before her time-- she was the most rational person I'd ever met, wouldn't have given the time of day to anyone selling miracle cures or pseudoscience-- but at the same time she never spoke one cruel word against people who believe in God or faith or prayer-- I think she could have managed this. I think she could have believed in the impossible."
"Tell me about her," Rose prompted her gently. "What was her name?"
Jill smiled a wobbly little smile, blinked back a tear. "Oh. Her name was Susan. Susan Pevensie. She had such adventures, traveled the world-- I always did feel a bit plain standing next to her, just a dentist."
"She sounds brilliant," Rose nodded slowly, leaning against the car to show it was safe now. "But I tell yeh what, don't ever fhink yeh're plain-- yeh're brilliant, yeh are, just brilliant, especially tegevveh-- and any kid you two have is gonna be somefhing else."
Jill's smile straightened and softened. "Oh. Oh, thank you."
Rose inclined her head in a you're welcome sort of way, then mused, half to herself: "'Susan.' That's a lovely name."
Jill bobbed her head. "I've always thought so. But you know what else is a lovely name? 'Rose.'"
She glanced over at Gene. "If we ever have a daughter, Gene, we should name her Rose."
Gene arched a reddish eyebrow at this. "I suppose that's doable."
Rose's eyes went wide. "No!"
They looked at her in shock, and she hesitated, backpedaled, laughed: "What I mean is-- Rose is such a trendy name, there'll be plenty of girls named 'Rose' when your daughter gets to school. Why not name her somefhing different? Somefhing... somefhing from Shakespeare?"
...she glanced at Gene: "Maybe do a bit uv wordplay for the middle name, yeah? Clever parents, clever girl, clever name."
"G'won," Rose gestured. "Get on in. Get on wiv yeh. Go give dear oul' mum a proper send-off."
Gene Granger and Jill Pevensie each hugged Rose in turn, climbed in the car-- and with a funny sense of deja vu-yet-to-come, Rose raised her wand, and breathed: "Obliviate."
Even as she lowered her wand again, Rose was already walking, already heading out of sight. She couldn't Apparate back to Hogwarts grounds, but she could send a message by Patronus... let them know where to come pick her up.
A few moments later, Gene and Jill found themselves awakening in the car by the side of the road as the moon slunk away below the horizon.
"Did we fall asleep?" Jill wondered.
Gene looked at the clock on the dashboard. "For a little while."
********
The Dementors crowded around The TARDIS, huddled, teeming masses-- the object had a soul, of sorts, but The TARDIS' soul was connected to Tommy's, and they were sapping him through that link...
...even though the sunrise was peeking over the horizon, now, the darksome creatures turned the twilit woodscape to a mournful, gloaming, haunted grove...
...a lesser man would have been drained, daunted, but the fox sprinted through the trees, and popped back into human shape, his wand spinning up into the air beside him with the force of his Untransfiguration, he snatched the wand out of the air without looking--
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" a silver-white quadrupedal shape blossomed from his wand and with lashing tail and gnashing teeth he sent the Dementors packing.
"Right then," Tommy growled, standing there with wand still up and out, nodding to himself. "Sorted."
As the Patronus dispersed, however, Mae and Roses Brave and Cunning moved up behind Tommy-- Rose the Cunning wearing an outfit of clothes that Mae had deftly Transfigured out of leaves--
--and they stared for a moment.
"But, hold on," Rose the Brave murmured, "that wasn't a fox."
Rose the Cunning shook her head. "Your Patronus-- your Patronus's always been a fox."
"Not always," Tommy admitted softly, glancing at both of the Roses, as though daring them to make fun of him, to-- to take advantage of this moment of vulnerability. "Not for awhile now."
But neither of them did. They slipped their hands into his and walked with him the rest of the way to The TARDIS, one on either side of him.
Mae walked along behind, her sunrise-colored wings lit by an actual sunrise, and she grinned a delighted little smile.
********
The TARDIS faded into existence beside a bus stop, and Rose the Loyal stood up to meet The TARDIS as she did so.
The doors swung open, and Tommy stepped out, swept her into a hug, and hug him back indeed Rose did.
As she stepped into The TARDIS, however, Tommy glanced up at the blue shade climbing the sky, at the warm circle of light on this lovely March morning--
--but he couldn't smile to himself, couldn't rejoice in that warmth.
He swung the door shut behind him with a creak and a click.
Potter!verse, Track 80: "What Does The Fox Say?" (Ylvis)
"I just thought," Tommy hesitated, as they one by one stepped aboard, and took long, measuring looks around The Console Room, "one trip? One trip and you'd understand."
"We dun have time for tourism," Rose the Cunning frowned, sitting against the pillar that had the former flying carpet draped over it.
"It is," Rose the Brave pointed out, leaning against The Console, glancing back to make sure she didn't bump anything when she put her hands down, "very important that we stay under the radar right now. If Snape changes his mind and tells The Ministry that our sister's a werewolf, a so-called half-breed, we'll be out on our arses. Not that that would be so bad, but we've got mum and careers to fhink about. None uv us would be able to get work if her lycanfhropy got made public."
"M'surprised he hasn't outed me already," Rose the Cunning smiled faintly. "Instead, Wolfsbane Potions every monfh like clockwork... didn't he out Professor Lupin? And that was before we had a puppet government covering for a fascist regime uv blood-purists."
"Maybe he's a better man than we've given him credit for," Rose the Loyal pointed out, running her fingers gently, affectionately, along the railing of the walkway, "we never did hear the whole story about what happened that night wiv Dumbledore. Plus-- he used t' be Head uv your House. That means somefhing to him."
"Even though I'm a blood-traitor," Rose the Cunning rebutted, arms crossed loosely over her stomach, "and a Slyvherin-in-Name-Only, these days?"
"I just fhink," Rose the Loyal insisted, "there's no such fhing as a one-sided coin."
"Well," Tommy interjected with an awkward grin, "let's hope that worldview isn't too Knuts."
As one, The Three Roses covered their faces and groaned.
"That was bluddy awful," Rose the Cunning snorted.
"It made me an ickle Sick-le," Rose the Brave managed, keeping a straight face.
"Oh!" Rose the Loyal brightened. "Did it make yeh-- erm-- Galleons uv sick?"
She hesitated. "Y'know. Like gallons." And then illustrated with bothersomely authentic Ron Weasley slug-barf noises.
Rose the Cunning stared straight ahead of herself for a moment. "That tears it. I'm disownin' th' lot uv yeh."
"If you were gonna disown us," Rose the Brave pointed out, snorting goodnaturedly, "yeh would've done it by now."
"But you were serious," Rose the Loyal glanced at Tommy. "You just wanna take us somewhere? Somewhere not-- on The Great Basilisk Hunt?"
"Mm," Tommy nodded, pressing his lips together, nodded again, "mm, yeah, exactly. Somewhere we can go to get away from all this nonsense, yeah? To not worry about-- school for a change. We could try and find Fiddler's Green! Plot the Unplottable!"
"It does sound," Rose the Brave mused, "pretty inviting."
Rose the Cunning rolled her eyes. "Fine. Is Mae coming?"
Tommy hesitated. "Well-- she-- she does live here. I think she's out?"
Rose the Cunning pointed down one of the hallways off of the entryway. "If she's out, she left the oven on. I can smell--" she whiffed deeply "--homemade Jammy Dodgers?"
Immediately, she squinted at Tommy. "Must be nice. Havin' a beautiful woman to play 'house' wiv at all hours."
"Honestly," Tommy insisted, "it is not like that, I said this to Rich and I'll keep saying it. Those Jammy Dodgers ehn't even for me! They're for her boyfriend's dad, she's sending him a CARE package."
"A likely story," Rose the Cunning harrumphed, but there was a twinkle in her eye, she was teasing-- could he tell? She thought she'd push the envelope a little more, his expression was priceless. "Then again, you are inviting all fhree uv us. Fhought yeh'd increase yehr odds, yeah? One out uv fhree ehn't bad?"
Tommy looked like he was going to panic. "It's not-- I didn't-- I'm not--"
"Two hearts," Rose the Cunning continued, on a roll, as her sisters stared at her in mingled horror, fascination, and amusement, "an' that massive Ravenclaw intellect, and yeh have to fhink wiv the brain below yehr waist?"
"Oh, now," Rose the Brave chided, but she had to hide her mouth behind her hand a little.
Rose the Loyal looked a little mortified on Tommy's behalf. "--that was-- that was a little uncalled-for--"
Rose the Cunning smiled a tiny little smile. "Oh. I'm just taking th' piss. Winding 'im up. Because it really has been monfhs."
"Yeah," Tommy nodded, getting some traction under his rubber soles again, "yeah, that's-- fair play to you."
Rose the Brave straightened a bit, then suggested, encouragingly: "So how about that Fiddler's Green, then?"
Tommy grinned a long, slow grin at her, and started flicking switches. "See, yeah, I was thinking-- could use a nice, placid spot, yeah? And if we're going for a pleasure cruise, why not try for a place that all sailors dream of, right?"
The energy changed in the room, The Console quivered under Tommy's fingertips, The Time Rotor hesitated, hovered, ready to rise, ready to fall...
At this, The Roses quieted, gazing upward, looking around the domed ceiling, watching the tremble in the wires, the shiver in the coral--
--it was one thing to be standing beside Blue the Box, or even inside her. It was quite another to be standing inside her when she was underway.
Like standing still as all of Forever roared by outside.
--and then--
--the moment passed--
--with a thump and a lurch--
--a feeling in everyone's inner ear and inner belly that everything was skewing to the left hard--
--and a screaming careening sparks from the ceiling--
--a horrified yell came from the kitchens and the sound of shattering china--
--and The TARDIS thudded, shuddering, to a stop, as the sound of splintering crunching wood reverberated outside.
Tommy and The Three Roses sat there on the floor of The Console Room looking-- shaken, rattled, rolled--
"Blimey," Tommy mumbled where he sat on the grated floor. "Tell me we haven't landed on someone else's shed."
"You're a complete git," Rose the Cunning explained as she sat up, hauled herself to her feet, then offered a hand up to Rose the Loyal.
Rose the Loyal accepted gratefully. "(Cheers, fhanks.)"
"Do all your landings go this way?" Rose the Brave wondered, shoving her hair out of her face.
Tommy popped to his feet, adjusted his tie. "A few, yeah. And a takeoff or two. But definitely not all." Bounding around The Console, he popped his glasses on, swiveled the monitor-- "Hold on, I'll try and figure out where we are. And, erm, when."
"Could always have a peek outside," Rose the Cunning pointed out, not unreasonably. And then, quite as normally as one could act under the circumstances, swung the door open, found it quite dark, and stepped outside to peer about in the dim light that emanated from The TARDIS' doorway.
...it was at that moment that everything went horribly wrong.
The clouds parted.
And Rose the Cunning found, to her horror, that the night sky was actually quite well lit after all.
Lit by a full moon.
She shuddered, and she spasmed, and she whirled to face her friend and her sisters, and when she tried to tell them get away, all that came out was a grim, rolling grrrrrrrowwwwwwwl.
"Get her back inside!" Tommy roared, practically vaulting The Console to try and reach her, reach the door, "The TARDIS seemed to be protecting her, get her back inside!"
But even as he lunged close, even as her sisters reached for her, Rose the Cunning reeled away, sagging to her knees as the agony set in-- flinging up talon-tipped hands to warn off their approach even as her lovely face distorted--
"It's too late!" Rose the Brave shook her head. "Even if we got her in now, she'd just turn into a werewolf inside and tear us all apart!"
--and it seemed this was true, as she ripped at her human clothing, her sensibilities had rapidly shifted to the lupine even as joints popped and forelegs tangled up in sleeves--
"There's nuffing for it," Rose the Loyal nodded, her eyes already changing color-- "--there's only one way we can keep her from hurting anyone, or doing anyfhing she'll regret."
Rose the Brave met that heterochromatic gaze with one of her own, her opposite-colored eyes, and she nodded, and her jawline started to streamline...
"Oh," Tommy put his hands in his hair, face stricken, "I don't understand. I don't understand how this could have happened--" his gaze snapped ceilingward, his dark eyes staring daggers up at Blue the Box. "--why did you bring us here?"
Behind them all, Mae staggered in from the kitchens holding her head-- "Nnnwhass happenin'? Think I jus' took a teaset t' th' face--"
Her eyes widened and her head cleared in a hurry. "Oh. Oh God."
--with a final grind of bone on bone, Rose the Cunning thrashed out of the knot of her jeans and pelted off into the darkness, and, tails flashing behind them, her sisters sprinted after her in hot quadrupedal pursuit.
Tommy hurtled through the door after them-- but then Mae was grabbing his shoulder, she'd caught up to him with a surge of sunrise-colored wings, and her dark eyes met his. "Don' be an idiot. Transfigure! Y'won't stand a chance'a catchin' up on foot as a human, even's quick's y'are, an' even if y'did she'd tear y'apart!"
"Right," Tommy nodded, his wand flashed out--
--and with a flourish, with a shiver and a rush, he transformed--
--into a creature with golden orange fur, searching dark eyes, a pale belly, and a tuft of spiky brown hair atop his head between swiveling, triangular ears. He was a fox, like his Patronus.
Beside him, Mae hauled The TARDIS' doors shut, and her own wand flourished--
--and she was a slightly different shade of orange beside him, with legs made for springing and eyes that pierced the dark-- her shoulder-blades were white at the top, with a stripe of dark gold, and then copper, fading into the orange of the rest of her fur-- her shoulder blades had the same color scheme as her wings. Like her own bouncy Patronus, she was a cat.
They shared a grimly determined look, flared their nostrils into the wind, and dashed after the three wolf-shaped Roses.
As they bounded through woodlands, however, Tommy couldn't help but feel an encroaching sense of deja vu.
It's weird. Hard to tell in the dark. Think I've seen these woods before.
And then he heard, beside him as he ran-- Yeah. Well. Robert Frost references 'side, s'not like we're likely t'find a streetlamp in these parts.
Tommy the Fox almost tripped into a four-legged tangle as he glanced over at Mae the Cat. What?
Mae stared back at him. Oh. OH! Thought I was daydreamin'-- that was actually you?
And-- and that was you. Tommy was gobstopped-- it-- it must be The TARDIS. She's got Legilimency, because she's a Room of Requirement-- and she's linked to me through my rapport with the ol' carpet-- she must be seeing that we need to understand each other, and it's providing translation! Never needed it before, even in The Bronze Age, Galatea spoke English-- and Blue didn't translate Dirk's Latin because he didn't need to be speaking it! It's using the subtle pheromones and body-language that The Roses use to understand each other when one is in wolf-shape and another isn't-- bolstering it with Legilimency-- realtime mental translation!
Mae shook her head as she ran, causing her whiskers to flicker and ripple about. Did T.S. tell y'Blue might be able t' do that?
Tommy hesitated. Must've skimmed over that bit.
The cat's features lent themselves to a very sardonic glare. It amazes me how y'ever got such good grades as y'did.
But-but-but-- Tommy sputtered. This is amazing, it's even translating your accent.
Before Mae could comment that it wasn't her accent that needed translating, there, Captain Estuary, they burst through the underbrush to find Roses Brave and Loyal hurriedly sniffing about a clearing--
Bluddy can't-- c'mon, yeh stupid nose, work! one of them demanded.
Oh, no, you've lost her, Tommy groaned.
Tommy? the other one hesitated-- right, that one was the one from Hufflepuff, he could tell from her eyes-- is that-- it's like yeh can hear us!
Tommy's brushy tail twitched amongst the shrub-branches. Well, I can hear you.
Forget it, it's-- Rose the Brave whuffed-- there's anuvver scent, it's all over the place-- we've gotten good at the wolf fhing but I've never smelled anyfhing like it before.
Mae squinted-- Could it be a fantastic beast? Like-- a Magical-type thing?
It's possible-- Tommy frowned-- though I thought that The Ministry kept a close eye on that sort of business-- didn't let them run around in just any forest--
Everyone shush! Rose the Loyal snapped her head up, looking out into the trees as Rose the Brave's head leveled and swiveled at the same moment. Somefhing's coming. A lot of somefhings.
Tommy hesitated, twitching his head back and forth-- Are you sure-- oh, right, no, there it is.
Mae backed up a few steps, her tail rapidly inflating. Oh-- oh m'Gawd-- what is that?
And then they came thundering out of the trees.
Two, no, three of them.
A great black dog, what seemed-- particularly to the four young Witches and Wizards, in their smaller, animal states-- to be nearly the size of a small bear.
A stag, antlers bold and gleaming in the moonlight, hooves pawing the leaf-beds as he glanced from side to side--
--and a rat, clinging for dear life to those antlers.
The four members of The D.R. stared in stock-still startlement at this equally-strange collection of newcomers and, after a few moments of reorientation, the newcomers stared back.
But then, off in the distance, in another direction entirely, there came a howl, a howl that split the night sky--
