Chrononauts, Part IIb
May. 5th, 2012 06:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annafugazziPairing(s): Harry/Draco (implied Ron/Hermione, brief Harry/Ginny, Draco/Astoria, Draco/Blaise, other minor pairings)
Summary: Harry and Draco learn that Time is making fools of them again. And then they learn it... again.
Rating: R
Warning(s): Drug use, general confusion.
Epilogue compliant? That's a good question!
Word Count: ~39K
2.5. Hospital wing, Nexus minus 10:30 hours
"What the bloody hell?" said Fred Weasley, stopping in his tracks. "Since when is Malfoy invited to Order meetings?"
George looked at the other Malfoy. "And in duplicate?"
"And... Weasley-tinted?" said Fred.
MacCauley rolled his eyes. "Trust me, I'm no more delighted at my appearance than you are," said MacCauley. "And the colouring is her doing," he nodded sourly at Tonks, who had come into the room right behind the twins, along with Lupin.
"What? What did I do?" she asked, and tripped over a stool.
"My dear cousin helped develop a Metamorphmagus potion," he said sourly as she picked herself up. "Nowhere near as effective as actually being a Metamorphmagus, and has some nasty side effects, but it's been in use for quite some time."
"And you metamorphed yourself ginger?" asked Tonks.
"Not voluntarily," said MacCauley, rubbing his arm absently. "The potion picks what you look like. And it has your sense of humour. I suppose I should be happy it didn't decide to turn my hair pink."
"Who the hell are you by the way?"
"Draco Malfoy, believe it or not, though I'm being called MacCauley to avoid confusion. Long story. And the answer to your questions is that if you take too much Morph, over a long period of time, it can change your appearance or colouring permanently. I suppose I've been lucky, in that I only need to concentrate a bit to keep my colours right; Dawlish has an elephant nose, and can't get rid of it."
"Take too much of it? Why would you do that?"
"One of its side effects is that it's a powerful painkiller, especially for certain magical injuries."
"And you took too much of it?" said Ron.
"It's rather uncomfortable to stop once you've started."
"You're... addicted," said Malfoy. "To this potion."
MacCauley shrugged.
"Unbelievable," muttered Ron.
MacCauley gave a snort. "Don't get self-righteous, Weasley. Potter here has whisky and Gillyweed joints as his best friend, and I've heard tell you're quite the drinker yourself. And your lovely little sister can't do without a few Gillyweed spliffs a day either. I'm told Longbottom got her into them when she and Harry were going down in flames. She probably uses them now to deal with being allied to my father and his cronies."
Ron bristled. "Neither one of us would ever--"
"This is not germane to what we are here to discuss," McGonagall said, breaking in, and quickly brought Lupin, Tonks and the twins up to speed.
"Look, it's really quite simple," said MacCauley as soon as she was done. "It comes down to trust. That's all I'm asking you to do. I will simply leave here, all of you will be Obliviated, and--"
"I will not decide anything without Albus here," said McGonagall.
"Oh for -- he's not here, you stubborn witch, and by the time he comes back it'll be too late," said MacCauley, exasperated, and Harry couldn't help but be a bit impressed. His Malfoy was rude, but never like this; not to McGonagall, anyway.
He wasn't his Malfoy, either.
"Look, I had that parchment, in Harry's writing. Doesn’t that prove anything to you?"
"I'd have to analyse it."
MacCauley sat back. "I suppose it would be simple enough to come up with a charm to make your handwriting look like someone else's," he said glumly.
"No, in fact, it isn't," said McGonagall, frowning slightly. MacCauley looked up at her. "Which is not to say it’s impossible. I should consult Filius--"
"The more people you bring in to this, the larger this gets, the worse," said MacCauley. "You ask Flitwick and it’ll cause more interruptions in this timeline."
"This isn't something we can decide on our own," said McGonagall. "Although I agree that it should probably be restricted to Order members only."
"We're not going to miss out on this," said Harry, and Hermione nodded.
"Besides, they're here," said Ron, nodding at Fred and George.
"Ah, but we're in the Order too now, Ronnie," said Fred with a grin. "We were just handing over school security duties to Lupin and Tonks but this sounds a bit more interesting than going home to work on Snigger Jiggers."
George shook his head. "Wailing Woozies," he said. "Sniggers're purpled."
Fred's eyebrows went up. "Soylent?"
"Permicide."
"Excellent. Wailing Woozies, then. But this is a lot cooler than--"
"Professor," said a Prefect, poking into the room. "There's been a disturbance from one of the school wards. Some odd activity going on near the Quidditch Pitch."
McGonagall got up, along with Lupin, Tonks, Fred and George.
"That ward's one of ours," said Fred and George, alarmed.
"I noticed last night there was something not quite right back there," said Lupin.
"You three stay here," McGonagall said brusquely, nodding at Harry, Ron and Hermione. "You also, Mr. Malfoy," she said to Malfoy, and they hurried away.
There was a short silence and MacCauley sighed, checking his watch, and Harry suddenly noticed that MacCauley was quite pale. Not as pale as Malfoy these days, but he certainly seemed to be competing for Ashiest Complexion right now.
MacCauley closed his eyes briefly, rubbing his arms and then his chest, and tilting his head from one side to the other.
"Why do you keep doing that?" asked Harry.
"Doing what?"
Harry repeated the movements.
MacCauley's lips pressed together and he looked away.
"What is it?" Harry pressed.
MacCauley turned back, annoyance plain on his face. "All right, if you must know, I haven't had any Morph in a while. It's making me a mite testy."
Harry frowned. Just like that, no 'mind your own business,' no rudeness, just 'I'm in withdrawal'?
"And this is where you say, 'I've told you you shouldn't take so much of that stuff'," said MacCauley.
"What? Why?"
MacCauley gave a hollow laugh. "Funny, I get so annoyed when you do that. I'd give anything to hear you say it now."
Malfoy made a low noise of disgust. "You know, even I don’t believe you," he said. "I believe you're some sort of pathetic addict, I can believe you’ve looked into my background to make yourself sound plausible. And you’ve spied on some things I’ve done and invented all the rest, but you’re not from the future and you’re certainly not me."
MacCauley gave him a grim smile. "No? Then how would I know how you feel this year? Where would I get that kind of information?"
Malfoy sneered. "Oh, please."
"How would I know how you feel about him?" MacCauley nodded at Harry. Malfoy’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly before the dismissive sneer came back.
"I don't know what on earth you're talking about."
MacCauley chuckled. "You’ve never told anyone. But I know how you feel. You’ve wondered about boys since forever, you had that thing going with Blaise last year and you loved it, even though he’s an utter twat--"
Malfoy's eyes grew huge.
"You remember him sucking you off? Remember how it felt to come in his hand? Have him come over yours?"
Harry swallowed.
"I know how much you want that with him," said MacCauley, nodding at Harry. "You remember how it felt to make his nose explode in blood on the train, and it felt really, really good, and you thought that kind of hate was all you’d ever feel for him. But life’s become worse and worse this year, hasn’t it?" Malfoy crossed his arms and looked away, an angry blush rising in his face. "You started to notice him more this year, you saw that Slughorn was all over him, and at first you thought you just felt the same bloody jealousy as always. How long has it been since you realized that there was more to it than that?"
Harry cleared his throat, suddenly desperately wishing that MacCauley would shut up. Because it was very obvious that he was hitting a nerve with Malfoy -- several nerves, in fact -- and Harry had no clue what to make of it or what to do and--
"You started talking to that pathetic Muggle-born ghost, because you needed somebody to talk to, and she was all you could get. You thought of telling her how you feel about him now. How you want him to save you, and you want him, and how you’ve wanked to thoughts of him a few times. You hate him, but you want him, and when he saw you crying you tried to kill him because you could be weak in front of anybody, anybody but him--"
"Stop it," said Hermione. "There’s no need for this."
MacCauley gave her a small smile and sat back. "Maybe not. But he definitely believes me now, whether he’ll admit it to any of you or not."
"Not a chance," said Malfoy, standing up and moving as far away from them as he could and still remain in the hospital wing, and Harry winced. Because, slow as he was to pick up on some things without Hermione there to point them out, right now even Ron could tell that Malfoy was lying.
2.6. Hospital wing, Nexus minus 9:45 hours
"Malfoy?" Harry approached the window where he was standing and brooding, twenty minutes later. McGonagall and the rest were still dealing with whatever the problem was out on the grounds, Ron and Hermione were still chatting cautiously with MacCauley, and Harry couldn't take the uncertainty any more.
"What? What do you want?" Malfoy asked.
"Nothing. I... nothing."
Never mind, don't ask, Harry told himself. You won't get anything out of him. Just go back to Ron and Hermione and leave him alone.
"It's not true, you know," Malfoy blurted. Harry looked at him. "He's barking. I don't know what he's up to, but you can't possibly even think of trusting him."
"I don't."
Malfoy blinked.
"He does have some interesting points to make, though."
"No he doesn't!"
Don't ask. Don't ask.
"Are you working on a Cabinet?" he asked in a rush.
Malfoy's eyes widened. "Am I what? No! Of course not!"
They glared at each other.
"Look, if you're honestly gullible enough to fall for him saying I'm, I dunno, in love with you or something..."
Harry could feel himself starting to blush.
"Though of course it would make perfect sense to someone like you, wouldn't it? Naturally someone who's hated you for six years wants nothing more than to moon after you like that Weasley bint."
Harry blushed harder. "Sod off," he said. "No, I don't believe that part. But the Cabinet? That part makes sense."
"You're an idiot," said Malfoy.
"I saw you talking to Borgin at Borgin and Burkes. And you're up to something this year. And you look bloody pathetic, trying to deny it." Malfoy glared at him. "I heard what you said on the train back in September, and I heard what Snape said to you during Slughorn's Christmas party. I heard what you said to Myrtle, I know you've been worried about something and slinking around to the Room of Requirement--"
"Shut up, Potter," Malfoy snapped. "You don't know a bloody thing."
"As for your love life, I really couldn't care less--"
"Shut up!" Malfoy shouted. "Just shut up!!"
2.7. Hospital wing, Nexus minus 9:30 hours
"All I am asking you to do is let me go and stop Greyback," MacCauley repeated wearily, after the Order members had come back from the grounds.
"And let you out of our sight, and Obliviate us," said Hermione. "That’s the part that nobody here is particularly eager to agree to."
"How do we know that's all you'll do?" said Fred. "How do we know you won't go and make sure the Death Eaters get through the Cabinet? You say you studied that damn thing all year--"
"I did, seven years ago, yes," said MacCauley. "And I’m not about to go back to it and try to solve in a day what I couldn’t solve in a year. I never figured out why it didn't work. It should have. I said the spell, but nobody came through."
"And you’ve no idea why."
"No. Look, the bloody thing was destroyed two days after Dumbledore's fall. And they destroyed its twin in Borgin and Burkes, too. I never did figure it out. The only Death Eater in Hogwarts that night was Fenrir Greyback, and I’ve no idea why. I didn’t even know he was supposed to be on the mission." He paused. "And if it's any comfort to the rest of you, he mauled me that night, too. I made the mistake of trying to step in front of Dumbledore and he swatted me aside like a fly, almost took a piece of my arm off in the process. It's why I started to use Morph, in fact."
"And you’re going to prevent him from coming through?"
"I will go to the Room of Requirement and wait until he's left," he nodded at Malfoy. "Then I'll wait until half past midnight to see if Fenrir comes out. If he doesn’t, I’ll go to the Astronomy Tower and as soon as Fenrir appears there I’ll AK him -- all right maybe not AK," he amended hastily, no doubt from seeing the shocked expressions on everyone's face. Harry glanced at Hermione. What kind of world did MacCauley live in, where somebody could refer to using an Unforgivable so casually? "I will get rid of him, in some other, Forgivable, way. You," he gestured to Harry, "and Dumbledore will land, talk to you," he gestured to Malfoy again, "and take you into protective custody with the Order, Dumbledore won't fall to the bottom of the Tower, and rather than spending the rest of his days as a mindless vegetable until someone has the decency to end the life-keeping spells, he will instead be able to teach Harry here where to find the other Horcruxes. And everything will go on as it should."
"And you? When you're done, you go back to your future?
"No. I can't. I'll probably just disappear."
"And if you don't?" said Hermione.
"I'll go into hiding, and try not to affect anybody or anything. Whatever you want," MacCauley said impatiently. "Out of the way, where I can't bother anyone any more."
There was a brief silence.
McGonagall glanced around those assembled. "Any thoughts?"
"Are we taking a vote?" asked Fred.
"Absolutely not," said McGonagall firmly. "In Albus’s absence, the security of the school is my responsibility and the decision is mine. However, I would appreciate hearing your opinions."
"I'm sorry," said Lupin. "I'm not convinced."
"I am," said Tonks. She shrugged at Lupin’s questioning look. "It makes sense to me."
"I told you, there are so many ways he could be faking--"
"Why would he, though? And he was able to get into the school without setting off the wards--"
"Yes, I believe you two already had this discussion in my presence," said McGonagall. "I doubt you’ll be able to resolve it. Anyone else?"
"Must admit this one’s a lot more likable and believable than his younger version," said Fred.
"Must be the colouring," added George.
"But we're not convinced either," they both finished.
"Neither am I," said Ron.
"I am," said Hermione. "Professor, he--"
"Potter?" asked McGonagall.
Harry stared at MacCauley. The story seemed so bizarre, and yet strangely plausible. And the idea of Dumbledore dying, of the Wizarding world torn apart, of he himself turning into some younger version of Mad-Eye Moody...
And Harry couldn't help noticing that MacCauley looked awful; he was pale under his freckles, his eyes seemed slightly glassy, and he kept tilting his head every so often, as if trying to get rid of water in his ear.
"I believe him," he finally said, not aware until he'd said the words that that was what he was going to say.
"If anyone's going to bother to ask my opinion, I think he's barmy," said Malfoy.
McGonagall nodded. "Very well, then. I'm afraid I agree with the majority here, Mr. MacCauley. You will remain here for the moment, and then we shall decide what to do with you. We will use the information you have given us to make sure that Albus does not--"
"And by doing that you’ll change the timeline even further," he said. "Except if I know Dumbledore, he’ll insist on going ahead and doing whatever the hell it was that he was going to do, and he’ll probably still put himself in danger and still end up at the bottom of that wall--"
"You don’t know that," said McGonagall.
"And he's going to die," MacCauley said bitterly. "He's going to lie there, this brilliant, powerful wizard, and die after a year of not knowing his own name and being tended to like a plant that shits and pisses."
Harry shuddered. "Since when do you care about him? In your timeline, he never did anything for you."
"In my timeline, you dolt, he offered me sanctuary," said MacCauley wearily. "Disarmed and helpless, he didn't beg, he didn't rail at me; he offered to keep me and my mother safe. And then he was practically killed before my eyes. And then I saw all of you, lost." He stared at Harry. "In my timeline, you never got over that. He was the last protector you had. You've lost your way. You're not who you were. You drink a lot. You've lost your two best friends. And all of you, all of you are miserable. It's a shit future you're heading towards."
"So why don't you tell us about it, so we can avoid it?" asked Tonks, waving her wand and conjuring a quill, parchment and ink bottle.
"Because some of why it's miserable is due to your own choices, but a lot of it is just the way the Wizarding world has fallen apart and I very much doubt I'll be able to change any of it, considering I'm having trouble convincing this group of anything."
"So where did we end up?" Tonks insisted, absently filling her quill with ink and landing most of it on the floor instead.
MacCauley heaved a sigh and closed his eyes, and rubbed the space between his ginger eyebrows for a moment. Tonks got out her wand to Vanish the ink spill. "Well, you two are with the Ministry," said MacCauley, gesturing to her and Lupin. "Got married later this year."
"You're mental," said Ron, but as they all gaped at Lupin and Tonks Harry couldn't help but notice that Tonks's hair was going from mousy brown to pink, along with her face and the now apparently forgotten ink blot. And Lupin's own cheeks looked pretty flushed too.
"You've separated, though, and it's anyone's guess as to whether you'll be able to save your marriage. Your mother was arrested by the Ministry on suspicion of aiding the purebloods after my mother got back into contact with her, and you two almost divorced over remaining loyal to the Ministry. Ted Tonks is now in the Banned Order; you haven't spoken to him in years. He blames you for not fighting harder to get your mother released; you blame him for participating in the raid that resulted in the pureblood detainees being Dementor-Kissed. Your daughter, Andie -- named after your mother -- is two years old, very sweet, bright green hair, never met her namesake and will never meet her grandfather."
"My Mum got Kissed?" said Tonks, her voice hushed.
"We had a child?" said Lupin skeptically. "That's ridiculous. Werewolves don't breed."
"Apparently you did," said MacCauley. He turned to the Weasley twins. "And you two and Angelina Johnson... well, that was one for the hideously uncomfortable family albums." Fred and George shared a baffled glance. "Fred got engaged, married, separated, and divorced from her all within six months, and then she joined the Order, and now he loses no opportunity to remind his brother that all he got were sloppy seconds."
"Now I know you're mental," said Fred, disgusted.
"I wish I was. I told you it's a shit future. You... all of you, you're miserable." MacCauley took a deep breath. "And now I get to watch it all happen again."
2.8. Hospital wing, Nexus minus 9:15 hours
McGonagall and the other Order members had gone to her office to discuss what to do with MacCauley, again leaving Harry and his friends, and Malfoy, to guard MacCauley. Harry had gone to look out the window, eyeing the lovely day outside and wishing he was there. Wondering if maybe Ginny was out there again. If he should maybe try to talk to her. Wondering if things like their relationship mattered, considering everything else that was going on right now, and wondering if this was precisely the kind of thinking that had broken them up in the future. Would break them up in the future. Blast. His thoughts were restlessly churning with no particular resolution appearing before him, when he heard a soft cough at his elbow.
"It's true," said Malfoy, his voice low.
"What is?" asked Harry wearily. God, how many hours had he been in the hospital wing now? Too bloody long, anyway. And apparently he was supposed to go for a dangerous little jaunt with Dumbledore not too many hours from now? Barking.
And the bloody hospital wing was too quiet, too sterile, too reminiscent of various times he'd been in with one awful magic injury or another. Empty beds and bare floors and clean, crisp white bed linens. Vials with floaty bits in luridly coloured liquids all along the shelves on the wall.
"I'm not... I'm not in love with you." Harry blinked, startled. Malfoy drew a long breath. "But I did... do things... with Blaise. I never told anyone about that. I know Blaise didn't either, because I Obliviated him afterwards."
Harry's eyes widened. Good God. He turned around. "Why would you -- did you force him, or--"
"What?! No, Merlin's beard!" Malfoy said, angry. "I wouldn't -- that's just so typical of -- you sanctimonious--" he broke off, and there were two spots of colour on his cheeks. "I wouldn't force anyone! Blaise wanted to, believe me! Only I didn't want him to tell anyone afterwards."
"So you are... erm..."
"Gay, yeah," said Malfoy, a hint of defiance in his eyes, though his cheeks were getting rosier by the second.
"But on the train -- Parkinson was... erm..."
"All right, maybe bi," said Malfoy.
"Why are you telling me this?"
Malfoy shrugged.
"Was any of what he said about... erm, about me..."
"He exaggerated," said Malfoy. "A lot."
Harry’s eyes widened. That was as good as admitting it. Merlin. Malfoy had a sort of gay crush. On him.
He cleared his throat. "Why tell me this now?"
Malfoy didn’t look up. "Potter... how would he know any of that? I’ve never -- not even said a word -- and definitely not written anything, and I know I still treat you the same way as before -- there’s no way he could possibly know--"
"Actually you don’t treat me the same as before," said Harry. Malfoy raised his face and stared at him blankly.
"You don’t -- I mean, I never would’ve guessed you felt anything, erm, positive," Harry stumbled, and Malfoy looked back down, his cheeks reddening even further. "But if anything you’re more... I dunno, you act like me and Ron and Hermione hardly even exist. Like you’re not even thinking about us at all any more."
"You exist, believe me," muttered Malfoy.
Harry cleared his throat. "You don’t act like I do. I suppose it’s part of what’s made me suspicious of you this year."
"Did either of your little minions notice that?"
"Ron and Hermione? They’re not my minions. And no. Or... well, I suppose Hermione may have. They both thinking I’m mental, though. About you being involved in anything suspicious."
Malfoy smiled slightly.
"Actually to be honest they... erm, they said I’m sort of, erm, obsessed with you."
Malfoy looked back up at him, shocked.
"Not -- not, I mean, in a weird or, you know, g... erm..." Harry trailed off. Oh, that was tactful.
Malfoy’s lips twitched. "Not in a weird, gay kind of way, you mean?"
Harry could feel his blush heating even further. This had to beat the time Uncle Vernon had had to explain the stains on Dudley's sheets, which Harry was in charge of laundering, for Most Mortifying Conversation For All Involved, Ever.
Harry cleared his throat. "That, erm, really didn’t come out right. Sorry."
Malfoy chuckled and Harry found himself almost smiling. "So you’re obsessed, are you?"
Harry shrugged. "I’d call it curious."
Malfoy laughed, and Harry suddenly realized he hadn’t seen Malfoy laugh in a very, very long time. "I’m sure you would."
"You know, it actually doesn’t feel all that great to find out I was right," he said, surprising himself.
"Why not?"
"I... you’re... I know you don’t want to do whatever it is Voldemort told you to do," he said, and winced in sympathy as Malfoy blanched at the name. "You’re -- if MacCauley’s right, you’re not sure you’re right any more. It’s not -- I wanted to figure you out when I thought you were plotting fiendishly and, I don’t know, laughing a sinister laugh or something." Malfoy smiled slightly. "You’re not, are you?"
Malfoy wrapped his arms around himself. "No."
"Maybe it’s a good thing he -- MacCauley -- came back in time. I mean, he said you accepted the offer of sanctuary. And he survived, and he’s free, and all that."
"That’s him," said Malfoy. "That’s not me. Where he comes from, the Dark Lord is gone and all the Death Eaters died years ago, right? Last I heard, over here they’re all still pretty alive."
"Yeah, but the Order is here. And if Dumbledore offered you sanctuary -- or, well, offered MacCauley sanctuary -- then I’m sure he’d do the same for you. And they can keep you safe."
"You put a lot of faith in one batty old man," said Malfoy.
"He’s beaten Voldemort before," said Harry.
Malfoy chewed on his lip.
"Think about it, at least," said Harry.
Malfoy gazed at him uncertainly and Harry reflected that this was the first time he and Malfoy had ever had a real conversation with no insults or hexes.
"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall, re-entering the room with the other Order members in tow. "Would you please join us?"
2.9. Hospital wing, Nexus minus 8 hours
"Now, before we contact the Ministry about Mr. MacCauley, there are a few things we need to--" and suddenly McGonagall was interrupted by a flash and a cloud of smoke, appearing as if from nowhere. Harry stood and spun to face the source of the noise, wand out. Through the smoke he could see everyone else in the same defensive stance, all wands at the ready. The smoke cleared, and Harry felt his mouth drop open.
"Harry?!" said MacCauley.
The man who had just emerged stumbled, then threw up, and Harry’s mind reeled. What the hell could this be--
"No, I’m - I'm all right," gasped the man, though he was clutching on to MacCauley’s arm. "Only if there’s a chair or something..."
MacCauley glanced around and pushed the new arrival to the closest bed, pausing briefly to Vanish the mess on the floor. "What the hell are you doing here?" he said, his face pale under its freckles but a distinct vein of the closest thing Harry had seen to happiness beginning to colour his voice.
"Hang on," the man said weakly. "I -- no, I won’t pass out like you did, Hermione gave me Pepper-Up after we saw what had happened with your arrival, but I feel like I’ve been run over by a troll. On a train."
McGonagall cleared her throat. "Are you--"
"Harry, yeah, from seven years in your future," said the man. He looked up at Harry and gave him a wan smile. "So now you know what he’s been feeling like," he said, cocking his head in Malfoy’s direction.
"Mr. MacCauley, I take it that this was not planned," said McGonagall.
"Not in a million years," said MacCauley.
"MacCauley?" said the new Harry.
"To avoid confusion," said MacCauley.
The new Harry chuckled weakly. "Well if you're going by Eric MacCauley, I suppose I should go by Joshua Hayford, shouldn't I?"
MacCauley's eyes crinkled at the edges. "Never thought we'd use those names again after the Tabard mission was over."
The new Harry smiled back at him. "Doesn't seem right to be nostalgic about that one. I remember you complained about the smell of sheep for weeks."
"Not as much as you complained about the banshees," said MacCauley, and Harry was struck by the genuine affection he seemed to have for the older version of himself. "Harry, not that I'm complaining, but why are you here?" MacCauley asked.
"You don’t appear to be making much progress," said the older Harry -- Hayford, was it? "Yeah, we’ve still got your Sieve open, we’re still watching -- though we can barely see a thing, even with Spelled glasses, and Hermione’s headache is getting blinding. It got really bad once you’d gone through -- not just the Sieve, but everything. Padma’s pretty sure there’ll be nothing visible in the Sieve, now that I’ve come through. As for the timeline itself, it’s all bloody chaos."
"The Disappearances must be getting overwhelming," said MacCauley.
Harry -- Hayford, dammit -- nodded. "Not just that, though," he said. "You'd think that with the house burning down around us we'd be too busy scrambling to survive to take the time to trip each other up."
"You'd be wrong?"
"Couldn't be more wrong. It's insane."
"What's happened?"
"Your mother nearly killed your father at the Truce House," said Hayford bluntly. Malfoy's eyes widened, but MacCauley's face remained impassive.
"Was that due to the time collapse, or was she just checking off things she's always wanted to do before the end?"
"Hard to tell," said Hayford. "Fred and George have landed each other in hospital. I've got George in custody."
"You arrested me?" George exclaimed. "I mean -- you arrested him? After he'd got hurt?"
"He's in the Order," said Hayford. "Price on his head. The Order doesn't have proper medical facilities, so he had to come to St. Mungo's, which is in our territory. Don't feel too sorry for him; the wizard who was with Fred at the time will never walk again, and Fred himself was almost blinded."
"Merlin," muttered Fred.
"Andie's disappeared."
MacCauley breathed in. "Oh God. What happened?"
"Disappearance at her nursery school. Remus and Tonks are frantic."
"And you were sent back as a last-ditch effort?"
"I volunteered. To see if I could convince this lot, and because I’ve got some information you don’t." He turned to McGonagall. "You have to let Draco -- sorry, MacCauley -- do what he came here to do," he said. "He’s telling the truth. And if you don’t let him... there’s still something you need to know, to win this thing."
"Well we all know that there’s in-fighting in your future," said Hermione gently. "We’ll make sure to avoid that--"
"That’s not what I mean. I mean, there’s something Draco didn’t know before he came back."
"What?" said MacCauley.
"Whoever changed the past? They fucked up."
"I think we all got that," said MacCauley, and Hayford shook his head.
"No, I mean worse than we’d thought. It wasn’t just that they destabilized time. They... they missed a spot."
"What?"
"Whoever went to track down and destroy all the Horcruxes. They failed. They missed a spot."
"Fuck. Where?"
"Me."
"What?"
"I was the last Horcrux," said Hayford. MacCauley’s mouth dropped open. "Voldemort died, yeah, but a part of him was still left. In me."
MacCauley reached out for Hayford’s hand and held it, shifting to sit closer to him on the bed. "Oh my God. Harry, are you sure?"
Harry blinked. What the hell was that? Holding hands with Draco Malfoy? He glanced at his Malfoy, who looked just as bewildered.
"Hang on," said Harry. "Dumbledore's never said anything about that."
Hayford glanced at him. "Maybe Dumbledore didn't know. Maybe he would have told me eventually. In any case, I am a Horcrux. We’ve no idea how it happened, but it did."
"Who told you this?" asked MacCauley.
"Hermione." MacCauley’s eyes narrowed and Hayford shook his head. "I didn't trust her, and neither did Ron, so he had her arrested--"
"From the Truce House?!" said MacCauley, aghast.
Hayford nodded. "Tested her under Veritaserum. Then I went to six different people to confirm it. Padma Patil, Snape, Healers, researchers..."
"And you're..."
"Horcruxed."
"Harry, she could’ve--"
"Oi, you're the one who wanted to bring her into all of this in the first place," said Hayford. "Besides, all complex readings of magical auras and all that aside, there's one pretty simple test: if I’m a Horcrux, I can still speak Parseltongue." Hayford looked up. "He’s one too, obviously," he said, pointing at Harry.
Harry felt a crawling sensation along his spine. Bloody hell. That was... that was beyond disgusting. Suddenly he felt soiled.
MacCauley took a deep breath. "So it's not just the time shattering."
"It's not just the time shattering that’s gone wrong. It's me." Harry winced at the pain in Hayford’s voice.
"Harry, God, I’m so sorry," said MacCauley to Hayford.
"Funny, here you thought that maybe when you went back in time, we'd all disappear, right?"
"Right."
"Draco, what if it's not everyone in our timeline that needs to disappear, but just me?"
"What?"
Hayford looked down at their clasped hands. "I'm the one who's wrong. I'm the one who needs to just..."
"No, come on." MacCauley reached out and cupped Hayford's cheek, gently tilting his head up to look at him.
Harry could feel his mouth dropping open, and the general feeling of shock in the room was palpable. No. No way. It couldn't be. MacCauley had said that they were friends, but...
"The timeline would be unstable whether you were yourself or not," MacCauley said urgently. "The one doesn't have to have anything to do with the other--"
"It might, if the reason the timeline is unstable is that not only did Dumbledore die, but I was left alive. If what I've done, as Head Auror and fucking Voldemort Wrapping Paper, has been so different from what I should have done that--"
"You're not fucking wrapping paper, you're still yourself, only--"
Hayford reached up and brushed a strand of red off MacCauley's forehead, and gave him a grim smile. "Not really. Hermione, Remus, Padma, all of them tested me. I'm no better than Voldemort, because part of me is Voldemort. And Hermione's got a theory that once the original body of a Horcrux-maker dies, their Horcruxes grow more powerful within their containers, to try to get a new body. They were right all along."
MacCauley was silent for a moment. "I bet Weasley had a fine time saying I told you so," he finally said bitterly.
Hayford shook his head. "He cried," he said, his voice tight. "I haven’t seen him cry since Molly and Percy died."
MacCauley drew closer and pulled Hayford to him. "Fuck," he said, and closed his eyes, burying his face in Hayford's hair, and it was as though there was nobody in the world but the two of them. "Fuck, all this time, all this worry..."
"But hey, maybe... maybe it'll all be all right, as long as I die," said Hayford. "Or rather, he does." He pulled back slightly and looked at Harry.
What?
"What?!" said Hermione.
"He's a Horcrux," said Hayford. "What else should you do, with a piece of Voldemort's soul?"
2.10. Hospital wing, Nexus minus 7 hours
"All right, that is enough," said McGonagall, breaking in at last after a discussion that had raged for almost an hour. "Mr... Hayford," she said, turning to Hayford, "Regarding the decision to allow Mr. MacCauley to do what he came here to do, I am sorry, but the decision has already been made. I'm sorry that you apparently went to a great deal of trouble to come here and argue your case, but I still cannot allow you to do what you have asked us to. It would be utterly irresponsible."
"Even after seeing him?" said Fred, jerking his head towards Hayford. "Where d'you think he came from, then? And how does he know all the stuff he knows? Doesn't it prove anything to you?"
"It certainly makes coming to any decision somewhat more problematic, but in the end--"
"Somewhat more problematic?" said George. "Utterly buggers it up, I'd say."
"Professor Lupin, what do you think?" asked Hermione.
"I am inclined to agree with all of you, that their story is extremely compelling," said Lupin. "But in the end... I'm sorry. I have to agree with Professor McGonagall. We can't just let them go."
"Tonks?"
"I already said I believe him," said Tonks. "I vote we let them go."
"And I already said that this is not a democracy and we are not having a vote," said McGonagall.
"So what are you going to do with us?" asked Hayford wearily. Harry couldn't help noticing that Hayford wasn't looking much better than MacCauley by this point, his hands trembling and his grey eyes bloodshot.
"Keep you here, until Albus returns," said McGonagall. "Then turn you over to the full Order, and decide what to do with you as a group."
"Keep us imprisoned, then?" asked Hayford. "We haven't done anything wrong."
"I highly doubt you'll be confined for any terribly long period of time," said McGonagall.
"Just long enough to make sure we fail in what we came all this way to do," said MacCauley bitterly. He and Hayford shared a look of despair, and Hayford covered MacCauley's hand with his own.
"All right, then," he said, turning back to McGonagall. "I understand." He cleared his throat. "One thing, though. Hermione was also able to work out when the time traveller is going to land."
"We already knew that," said MacCauley.
"No, we had a rough guess as to when the time traveller was going to affect the timeline," said Hayford. "Hermione and Padma were able to figure out that he's going to land in the Room of Requirement around 7:30. They said that if you still refused to let MacCauley go, you should still have someone meet the time traveller there. Especially as it's almost certainly going to be Fenrir Greyback."
"Very well," said McGonagall. "We will do so." She paused. "Thank you."
Link to Part Ia
Link to Part Ib
Link to Part IIa (Previous)
Link to Part IIc (Next)
Link to Part IId
Summary: Harry and Draco learn that Time is making fools of them again. And then they learn it... again.
Rating: R
Warning(s): Drug use, general confusion.
Epilogue compliant? That's a good question!
Word Count: ~39K
"What the bloody hell?" said Fred Weasley, stopping in his tracks. "Since when is Malfoy invited to Order meetings?"
George looked at the other Malfoy. "And in duplicate?"
"And... Weasley-tinted?" said Fred.
MacCauley rolled his eyes. "Trust me, I'm no more delighted at my appearance than you are," said MacCauley. "And the colouring is her doing," he nodded sourly at Tonks, who had come into the room right behind the twins, along with Lupin.
"What? What did I do?" she asked, and tripped over a stool.
"My dear cousin helped develop a Metamorphmagus potion," he said sourly as she picked herself up. "Nowhere near as effective as actually being a Metamorphmagus, and has some nasty side effects, but it's been in use for quite some time."
"And you metamorphed yourself ginger?" asked Tonks.
"Not voluntarily," said MacCauley, rubbing his arm absently. "The potion picks what you look like. And it has your sense of humour. I suppose I should be happy it didn't decide to turn my hair pink."
"Who the hell are you by the way?"
"Draco Malfoy, believe it or not, though I'm being called MacCauley to avoid confusion. Long story. And the answer to your questions is that if you take too much Morph, over a long period of time, it can change your appearance or colouring permanently. I suppose I've been lucky, in that I only need to concentrate a bit to keep my colours right; Dawlish has an elephant nose, and can't get rid of it."
"Take too much of it? Why would you do that?"
"One of its side effects is that it's a powerful painkiller, especially for certain magical injuries."
"And you took too much of it?" said Ron.
"It's rather uncomfortable to stop once you've started."
"You're... addicted," said Malfoy. "To this potion."
MacCauley shrugged.
"Unbelievable," muttered Ron.
MacCauley gave a snort. "Don't get self-righteous, Weasley. Potter here has whisky and Gillyweed joints as his best friend, and I've heard tell you're quite the drinker yourself. And your lovely little sister can't do without a few Gillyweed spliffs a day either. I'm told Longbottom got her into them when she and Harry were going down in flames. She probably uses them now to deal with being allied to my father and his cronies."
Ron bristled. "Neither one of us would ever--"
"This is not germane to what we are here to discuss," McGonagall said, breaking in, and quickly brought Lupin, Tonks and the twins up to speed.
"Look, it's really quite simple," said MacCauley as soon as she was done. "It comes down to trust. That's all I'm asking you to do. I will simply leave here, all of you will be Obliviated, and--"
"I will not decide anything without Albus here," said McGonagall.
"Oh for -- he's not here, you stubborn witch, and by the time he comes back it'll be too late," said MacCauley, exasperated, and Harry couldn't help but be a bit impressed. His Malfoy was rude, but never like this; not to McGonagall, anyway.
He wasn't his Malfoy, either.
"Look, I had that parchment, in Harry's writing. Doesn’t that prove anything to you?"
"I'd have to analyse it."
MacCauley sat back. "I suppose it would be simple enough to come up with a charm to make your handwriting look like someone else's," he said glumly.
"No, in fact, it isn't," said McGonagall, frowning slightly. MacCauley looked up at her. "Which is not to say it’s impossible. I should consult Filius--"
"The more people you bring in to this, the larger this gets, the worse," said MacCauley. "You ask Flitwick and it’ll cause more interruptions in this timeline."
"This isn't something we can decide on our own," said McGonagall. "Although I agree that it should probably be restricted to Order members only."
"We're not going to miss out on this," said Harry, and Hermione nodded.
"Besides, they're here," said Ron, nodding at Fred and George.
"Ah, but we're in the Order too now, Ronnie," said Fred with a grin. "We were just handing over school security duties to Lupin and Tonks but this sounds a bit more interesting than going home to work on Snigger Jiggers."
George shook his head. "Wailing Woozies," he said. "Sniggers're purpled."
Fred's eyebrows went up. "Soylent?"
"Permicide."
"Excellent. Wailing Woozies, then. But this is a lot cooler than--"
"Professor," said a Prefect, poking into the room. "There's been a disturbance from one of the school wards. Some odd activity going on near the Quidditch Pitch."
McGonagall got up, along with Lupin, Tonks, Fred and George.
"That ward's one of ours," said Fred and George, alarmed.
"I noticed last night there was something not quite right back there," said Lupin.
"You three stay here," McGonagall said brusquely, nodding at Harry, Ron and Hermione. "You also, Mr. Malfoy," she said to Malfoy, and they hurried away.
There was a short silence and MacCauley sighed, checking his watch, and Harry suddenly noticed that MacCauley was quite pale. Not as pale as Malfoy these days, but he certainly seemed to be competing for Ashiest Complexion right now.
MacCauley closed his eyes briefly, rubbing his arms and then his chest, and tilting his head from one side to the other.
"Why do you keep doing that?" asked Harry.
"Doing what?"
Harry repeated the movements.
MacCauley's lips pressed together and he looked away.
"What is it?" Harry pressed.
MacCauley turned back, annoyance plain on his face. "All right, if you must know, I haven't had any Morph in a while. It's making me a mite testy."
Harry frowned. Just like that, no 'mind your own business,' no rudeness, just 'I'm in withdrawal'?
"And this is where you say, 'I've told you you shouldn't take so much of that stuff'," said MacCauley.
"What? Why?"
MacCauley gave a hollow laugh. "Funny, I get so annoyed when you do that. I'd give anything to hear you say it now."
Malfoy made a low noise of disgust. "You know, even I don’t believe you," he said. "I believe you're some sort of pathetic addict, I can believe you’ve looked into my background to make yourself sound plausible. And you’ve spied on some things I’ve done and invented all the rest, but you’re not from the future and you’re certainly not me."
MacCauley gave him a grim smile. "No? Then how would I know how you feel this year? Where would I get that kind of information?"
Malfoy sneered. "Oh, please."
"How would I know how you feel about him?" MacCauley nodded at Harry. Malfoy’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly before the dismissive sneer came back.
"I don't know what on earth you're talking about."
MacCauley chuckled. "You’ve never told anyone. But I know how you feel. You’ve wondered about boys since forever, you had that thing going with Blaise last year and you loved it, even though he’s an utter twat--"
Malfoy's eyes grew huge.
"You remember him sucking you off? Remember how it felt to come in his hand? Have him come over yours?"
Harry swallowed.
"I know how much you want that with him," said MacCauley, nodding at Harry. "You remember how it felt to make his nose explode in blood on the train, and it felt really, really good, and you thought that kind of hate was all you’d ever feel for him. But life’s become worse and worse this year, hasn’t it?" Malfoy crossed his arms and looked away, an angry blush rising in his face. "You started to notice him more this year, you saw that Slughorn was all over him, and at first you thought you just felt the same bloody jealousy as always. How long has it been since you realized that there was more to it than that?"
Harry cleared his throat, suddenly desperately wishing that MacCauley would shut up. Because it was very obvious that he was hitting a nerve with Malfoy -- several nerves, in fact -- and Harry had no clue what to make of it or what to do and--
"You started talking to that pathetic Muggle-born ghost, because you needed somebody to talk to, and she was all you could get. You thought of telling her how you feel about him now. How you want him to save you, and you want him, and how you’ve wanked to thoughts of him a few times. You hate him, but you want him, and when he saw you crying you tried to kill him because you could be weak in front of anybody, anybody but him--"
"Stop it," said Hermione. "There’s no need for this."
MacCauley gave her a small smile and sat back. "Maybe not. But he definitely believes me now, whether he’ll admit it to any of you or not."
"Not a chance," said Malfoy, standing up and moving as far away from them as he could and still remain in the hospital wing, and Harry winced. Because, slow as he was to pick up on some things without Hermione there to point them out, right now even Ron could tell that Malfoy was lying.
"Malfoy?" Harry approached the window where he was standing and brooding, twenty minutes later. McGonagall and the rest were still dealing with whatever the problem was out on the grounds, Ron and Hermione were still chatting cautiously with MacCauley, and Harry couldn't take the uncertainty any more.
"What? What do you want?" Malfoy asked.
"Nothing. I... nothing."
Never mind, don't ask, Harry told himself. You won't get anything out of him. Just go back to Ron and Hermione and leave him alone.
"It's not true, you know," Malfoy blurted. Harry looked at him. "He's barking. I don't know what he's up to, but you can't possibly even think of trusting him."
"I don't."
Malfoy blinked.
"He does have some interesting points to make, though."
"No he doesn't!"
Don't ask. Don't ask.
"Are you working on a Cabinet?" he asked in a rush.
Malfoy's eyes widened. "Am I what? No! Of course not!"
They glared at each other.
"Look, if you're honestly gullible enough to fall for him saying I'm, I dunno, in love with you or something..."
Harry could feel himself starting to blush.
"Though of course it would make perfect sense to someone like you, wouldn't it? Naturally someone who's hated you for six years wants nothing more than to moon after you like that Weasley bint."
Harry blushed harder. "Sod off," he said. "No, I don't believe that part. But the Cabinet? That part makes sense."
"You're an idiot," said Malfoy.
"I saw you talking to Borgin at Borgin and Burkes. And you're up to something this year. And you look bloody pathetic, trying to deny it." Malfoy glared at him. "I heard what you said on the train back in September, and I heard what Snape said to you during Slughorn's Christmas party. I heard what you said to Myrtle, I know you've been worried about something and slinking around to the Room of Requirement--"
"Shut up, Potter," Malfoy snapped. "You don't know a bloody thing."
"As for your love life, I really couldn't care less--"
"Shut up!" Malfoy shouted. "Just shut up!!"
"All I am asking you to do is let me go and stop Greyback," MacCauley repeated wearily, after the Order members had come back from the grounds.
"And let you out of our sight, and Obliviate us," said Hermione. "That’s the part that nobody here is particularly eager to agree to."
"How do we know that's all you'll do?" said Fred. "How do we know you won't go and make sure the Death Eaters get through the Cabinet? You say you studied that damn thing all year--"
"I did, seven years ago, yes," said MacCauley. "And I’m not about to go back to it and try to solve in a day what I couldn’t solve in a year. I never figured out why it didn't work. It should have. I said the spell, but nobody came through."
"And you’ve no idea why."
"No. Look, the bloody thing was destroyed two days after Dumbledore's fall. And they destroyed its twin in Borgin and Burkes, too. I never did figure it out. The only Death Eater in Hogwarts that night was Fenrir Greyback, and I’ve no idea why. I didn’t even know he was supposed to be on the mission." He paused. "And if it's any comfort to the rest of you, he mauled me that night, too. I made the mistake of trying to step in front of Dumbledore and he swatted me aside like a fly, almost took a piece of my arm off in the process. It's why I started to use Morph, in fact."
"And you’re going to prevent him from coming through?"
"I will go to the Room of Requirement and wait until he's left," he nodded at Malfoy. "Then I'll wait until half past midnight to see if Fenrir comes out. If he doesn’t, I’ll go to the Astronomy Tower and as soon as Fenrir appears there I’ll AK him -- all right maybe not AK," he amended hastily, no doubt from seeing the shocked expressions on everyone's face. Harry glanced at Hermione. What kind of world did MacCauley live in, where somebody could refer to using an Unforgivable so casually? "I will get rid of him, in some other, Forgivable, way. You," he gestured to Harry, "and Dumbledore will land, talk to you," he gestured to Malfoy again, "and take you into protective custody with the Order, Dumbledore won't fall to the bottom of the Tower, and rather than spending the rest of his days as a mindless vegetable until someone has the decency to end the life-keeping spells, he will instead be able to teach Harry here where to find the other Horcruxes. And everything will go on as it should."
"And you? When you're done, you go back to your future?
"No. I can't. I'll probably just disappear."
"And if you don't?" said Hermione.
"I'll go into hiding, and try not to affect anybody or anything. Whatever you want," MacCauley said impatiently. "Out of the way, where I can't bother anyone any more."
There was a brief silence.
McGonagall glanced around those assembled. "Any thoughts?"
"Are we taking a vote?" asked Fred.
"Absolutely not," said McGonagall firmly. "In Albus’s absence, the security of the school is my responsibility and the decision is mine. However, I would appreciate hearing your opinions."
"I'm sorry," said Lupin. "I'm not convinced."
"I am," said Tonks. She shrugged at Lupin’s questioning look. "It makes sense to me."
"I told you, there are so many ways he could be faking--"
"Why would he, though? And he was able to get into the school without setting off the wards--"
"Yes, I believe you two already had this discussion in my presence," said McGonagall. "I doubt you’ll be able to resolve it. Anyone else?"
"Must admit this one’s a lot more likable and believable than his younger version," said Fred.
"Must be the colouring," added George.
"But we're not convinced either," they both finished.
"Neither am I," said Ron.
"I am," said Hermione. "Professor, he--"
"Potter?" asked McGonagall.
Harry stared at MacCauley. The story seemed so bizarre, and yet strangely plausible. And the idea of Dumbledore dying, of the Wizarding world torn apart, of he himself turning into some younger version of Mad-Eye Moody...
And Harry couldn't help noticing that MacCauley looked awful; he was pale under his freckles, his eyes seemed slightly glassy, and he kept tilting his head every so often, as if trying to get rid of water in his ear.
"I believe him," he finally said, not aware until he'd said the words that that was what he was going to say.
"If anyone's going to bother to ask my opinion, I think he's barmy," said Malfoy.
McGonagall nodded. "Very well, then. I'm afraid I agree with the majority here, Mr. MacCauley. You will remain here for the moment, and then we shall decide what to do with you. We will use the information you have given us to make sure that Albus does not--"
"And by doing that you’ll change the timeline even further," he said. "Except if I know Dumbledore, he’ll insist on going ahead and doing whatever the hell it was that he was going to do, and he’ll probably still put himself in danger and still end up at the bottom of that wall--"
"You don’t know that," said McGonagall.
"And he's going to die," MacCauley said bitterly. "He's going to lie there, this brilliant, powerful wizard, and die after a year of not knowing his own name and being tended to like a plant that shits and pisses."
Harry shuddered. "Since when do you care about him? In your timeline, he never did anything for you."
"In my timeline, you dolt, he offered me sanctuary," said MacCauley wearily. "Disarmed and helpless, he didn't beg, he didn't rail at me; he offered to keep me and my mother safe. And then he was practically killed before my eyes. And then I saw all of you, lost." He stared at Harry. "In my timeline, you never got over that. He was the last protector you had. You've lost your way. You're not who you were. You drink a lot. You've lost your two best friends. And all of you, all of you are miserable. It's a shit future you're heading towards."
"So why don't you tell us about it, so we can avoid it?" asked Tonks, waving her wand and conjuring a quill, parchment and ink bottle.
"Because some of why it's miserable is due to your own choices, but a lot of it is just the way the Wizarding world has fallen apart and I very much doubt I'll be able to change any of it, considering I'm having trouble convincing this group of anything."
"So where did we end up?" Tonks insisted, absently filling her quill with ink and landing most of it on the floor instead.
MacCauley heaved a sigh and closed his eyes, and rubbed the space between his ginger eyebrows for a moment. Tonks got out her wand to Vanish the ink spill. "Well, you two are with the Ministry," said MacCauley, gesturing to her and Lupin. "Got married later this year."
"You're mental," said Ron, but as they all gaped at Lupin and Tonks Harry couldn't help but notice that Tonks's hair was going from mousy brown to pink, along with her face and the now apparently forgotten ink blot. And Lupin's own cheeks looked pretty flushed too.
"You've separated, though, and it's anyone's guess as to whether you'll be able to save your marriage. Your mother was arrested by the Ministry on suspicion of aiding the purebloods after my mother got back into contact with her, and you two almost divorced over remaining loyal to the Ministry. Ted Tonks is now in the Banned Order; you haven't spoken to him in years. He blames you for not fighting harder to get your mother released; you blame him for participating in the raid that resulted in the pureblood detainees being Dementor-Kissed. Your daughter, Andie -- named after your mother -- is two years old, very sweet, bright green hair, never met her namesake and will never meet her grandfather."
"My Mum got Kissed?" said Tonks, her voice hushed.
"We had a child?" said Lupin skeptically. "That's ridiculous. Werewolves don't breed."
"Apparently you did," said MacCauley. He turned to the Weasley twins. "And you two and Angelina Johnson... well, that was one for the hideously uncomfortable family albums." Fred and George shared a baffled glance. "Fred got engaged, married, separated, and divorced from her all within six months, and then she joined the Order, and now he loses no opportunity to remind his brother that all he got were sloppy seconds."
"Now I know you're mental," said Fred, disgusted.
"I wish I was. I told you it's a shit future. You... all of you, you're miserable." MacCauley took a deep breath. "And now I get to watch it all happen again."
McGonagall and the other Order members had gone to her office to discuss what to do with MacCauley, again leaving Harry and his friends, and Malfoy, to guard MacCauley. Harry had gone to look out the window, eyeing the lovely day outside and wishing he was there. Wondering if maybe Ginny was out there again. If he should maybe try to talk to her. Wondering if things like their relationship mattered, considering everything else that was going on right now, and wondering if this was precisely the kind of thinking that had broken them up in the future. Would break them up in the future. Blast. His thoughts were restlessly churning with no particular resolution appearing before him, when he heard a soft cough at his elbow.
"It's true," said Malfoy, his voice low.
"What is?" asked Harry wearily. God, how many hours had he been in the hospital wing now? Too bloody long, anyway. And apparently he was supposed to go for a dangerous little jaunt with Dumbledore not too many hours from now? Barking.
And the bloody hospital wing was too quiet, too sterile, too reminiscent of various times he'd been in with one awful magic injury or another. Empty beds and bare floors and clean, crisp white bed linens. Vials with floaty bits in luridly coloured liquids all along the shelves on the wall.
"I'm not... I'm not in love with you." Harry blinked, startled. Malfoy drew a long breath. "But I did... do things... with Blaise. I never told anyone about that. I know Blaise didn't either, because I Obliviated him afterwards."
Harry's eyes widened. Good God. He turned around. "Why would you -- did you force him, or--"
"What?! No, Merlin's beard!" Malfoy said, angry. "I wouldn't -- that's just so typical of -- you sanctimonious--" he broke off, and there were two spots of colour on his cheeks. "I wouldn't force anyone! Blaise wanted to, believe me! Only I didn't want him to tell anyone afterwards."
"So you are... erm..."
"Gay, yeah," said Malfoy, a hint of defiance in his eyes, though his cheeks were getting rosier by the second.
"But on the train -- Parkinson was... erm..."
"All right, maybe bi," said Malfoy.
"Why are you telling me this?"
Malfoy shrugged.
"Was any of what he said about... erm, about me..."
"He exaggerated," said Malfoy. "A lot."
Harry’s eyes widened. That was as good as admitting it. Merlin. Malfoy had a sort of gay crush. On him.
He cleared his throat. "Why tell me this now?"
Malfoy didn’t look up. "Potter... how would he know any of that? I’ve never -- not even said a word -- and definitely not written anything, and I know I still treat you the same way as before -- there’s no way he could possibly know--"
"Actually you don’t treat me the same as before," said Harry. Malfoy raised his face and stared at him blankly.
"You don’t -- I mean, I never would’ve guessed you felt anything, erm, positive," Harry stumbled, and Malfoy looked back down, his cheeks reddening even further. "But if anything you’re more... I dunno, you act like me and Ron and Hermione hardly even exist. Like you’re not even thinking about us at all any more."
"You exist, believe me," muttered Malfoy.
Harry cleared his throat. "You don’t act like I do. I suppose it’s part of what’s made me suspicious of you this year."
"Did either of your little minions notice that?"
"Ron and Hermione? They’re not my minions. And no. Or... well, I suppose Hermione may have. They both thinking I’m mental, though. About you being involved in anything suspicious."
Malfoy smiled slightly.
"Actually to be honest they... erm, they said I’m sort of, erm, obsessed with you."
Malfoy looked back up at him, shocked.
"Not -- not, I mean, in a weird or, you know, g... erm..." Harry trailed off. Oh, that was tactful.
Malfoy’s lips twitched. "Not in a weird, gay kind of way, you mean?"
Harry could feel his blush heating even further. This had to beat the time Uncle Vernon had had to explain the stains on Dudley's sheets, which Harry was in charge of laundering, for Most Mortifying Conversation For All Involved, Ever.
Harry cleared his throat. "That, erm, really didn’t come out right. Sorry."
Malfoy chuckled and Harry found himself almost smiling. "So you’re obsessed, are you?"
Harry shrugged. "I’d call it curious."
Malfoy laughed, and Harry suddenly realized he hadn’t seen Malfoy laugh in a very, very long time. "I’m sure you would."
"You know, it actually doesn’t feel all that great to find out I was right," he said, surprising himself.
"Why not?"
"I... you’re... I know you don’t want to do whatever it is Voldemort told you to do," he said, and winced in sympathy as Malfoy blanched at the name. "You’re -- if MacCauley’s right, you’re not sure you’re right any more. It’s not -- I wanted to figure you out when I thought you were plotting fiendishly and, I don’t know, laughing a sinister laugh or something." Malfoy smiled slightly. "You’re not, are you?"
Malfoy wrapped his arms around himself. "No."
"Maybe it’s a good thing he -- MacCauley -- came back in time. I mean, he said you accepted the offer of sanctuary. And he survived, and he’s free, and all that."
"That’s him," said Malfoy. "That’s not me. Where he comes from, the Dark Lord is gone and all the Death Eaters died years ago, right? Last I heard, over here they’re all still pretty alive."
"Yeah, but the Order is here. And if Dumbledore offered you sanctuary -- or, well, offered MacCauley sanctuary -- then I’m sure he’d do the same for you. And they can keep you safe."
"You put a lot of faith in one batty old man," said Malfoy.
"He’s beaten Voldemort before," said Harry.
Malfoy chewed on his lip.
"Think about it, at least," said Harry.
Malfoy gazed at him uncertainly and Harry reflected that this was the first time he and Malfoy had ever had a real conversation with no insults or hexes.
"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall, re-entering the room with the other Order members in tow. "Would you please join us?"
"Now, before we contact the Ministry about Mr. MacCauley, there are a few things we need to--" and suddenly McGonagall was interrupted by a flash and a cloud of smoke, appearing as if from nowhere. Harry stood and spun to face the source of the noise, wand out. Through the smoke he could see everyone else in the same defensive stance, all wands at the ready. The smoke cleared, and Harry felt his mouth drop open.
"Harry?!" said MacCauley.
The man who had just emerged stumbled, then threw up, and Harry’s mind reeled. What the hell could this be--
"No, I’m - I'm all right," gasped the man, though he was clutching on to MacCauley’s arm. "Only if there’s a chair or something..."
MacCauley glanced around and pushed the new arrival to the closest bed, pausing briefly to Vanish the mess on the floor. "What the hell are you doing here?" he said, his face pale under its freckles but a distinct vein of the closest thing Harry had seen to happiness beginning to colour his voice.
"Hang on," the man said weakly. "I -- no, I won’t pass out like you did, Hermione gave me Pepper-Up after we saw what had happened with your arrival, but I feel like I’ve been run over by a troll. On a train."
McGonagall cleared her throat. "Are you--"
"Harry, yeah, from seven years in your future," said the man. He looked up at Harry and gave him a wan smile. "So now you know what he’s been feeling like," he said, cocking his head in Malfoy’s direction.
"Mr. MacCauley, I take it that this was not planned," said McGonagall.
"Not in a million years," said MacCauley.
"MacCauley?" said the new Harry.
"To avoid confusion," said MacCauley.
The new Harry chuckled weakly. "Well if you're going by Eric MacCauley, I suppose I should go by Joshua Hayford, shouldn't I?"
MacCauley's eyes crinkled at the edges. "Never thought we'd use those names again after the Tabard mission was over."
The new Harry smiled back at him. "Doesn't seem right to be nostalgic about that one. I remember you complained about the smell of sheep for weeks."
"Not as much as you complained about the banshees," said MacCauley, and Harry was struck by the genuine affection he seemed to have for the older version of himself. "Harry, not that I'm complaining, but why are you here?" MacCauley asked.
"You don’t appear to be making much progress," said the older Harry -- Hayford, was it? "Yeah, we’ve still got your Sieve open, we’re still watching -- though we can barely see a thing, even with Spelled glasses, and Hermione’s headache is getting blinding. It got really bad once you’d gone through -- not just the Sieve, but everything. Padma’s pretty sure there’ll be nothing visible in the Sieve, now that I’ve come through. As for the timeline itself, it’s all bloody chaos."
"The Disappearances must be getting overwhelming," said MacCauley.
Harry -- Hayford, dammit -- nodded. "Not just that, though," he said. "You'd think that with the house burning down around us we'd be too busy scrambling to survive to take the time to trip each other up."
"You'd be wrong?"
"Couldn't be more wrong. It's insane."
"What's happened?"
"Your mother nearly killed your father at the Truce House," said Hayford bluntly. Malfoy's eyes widened, but MacCauley's face remained impassive.
"Was that due to the time collapse, or was she just checking off things she's always wanted to do before the end?"
"Hard to tell," said Hayford. "Fred and George have landed each other in hospital. I've got George in custody."
"You arrested me?" George exclaimed. "I mean -- you arrested him? After he'd got hurt?"
"He's in the Order," said Hayford. "Price on his head. The Order doesn't have proper medical facilities, so he had to come to St. Mungo's, which is in our territory. Don't feel too sorry for him; the wizard who was with Fred at the time will never walk again, and Fred himself was almost blinded."
"Merlin," muttered Fred.
"Andie's disappeared."
MacCauley breathed in. "Oh God. What happened?"
"Disappearance at her nursery school. Remus and Tonks are frantic."
"And you were sent back as a last-ditch effort?"
"I volunteered. To see if I could convince this lot, and because I’ve got some information you don’t." He turned to McGonagall. "You have to let Draco -- sorry, MacCauley -- do what he came here to do," he said. "He’s telling the truth. And if you don’t let him... there’s still something you need to know, to win this thing."
"Well we all know that there’s in-fighting in your future," said Hermione gently. "We’ll make sure to avoid that--"
"That’s not what I mean. I mean, there’s something Draco didn’t know before he came back."
"What?" said MacCauley.
"Whoever changed the past? They fucked up."
"I think we all got that," said MacCauley, and Hayford shook his head.
"No, I mean worse than we’d thought. It wasn’t just that they destabilized time. They... they missed a spot."
"What?"
"Whoever went to track down and destroy all the Horcruxes. They failed. They missed a spot."
"Fuck. Where?"
"Me."
"What?"
"I was the last Horcrux," said Hayford. MacCauley’s mouth dropped open. "Voldemort died, yeah, but a part of him was still left. In me."
MacCauley reached out for Hayford’s hand and held it, shifting to sit closer to him on the bed. "Oh my God. Harry, are you sure?"
Harry blinked. What the hell was that? Holding hands with Draco Malfoy? He glanced at his Malfoy, who looked just as bewildered.
"Hang on," said Harry. "Dumbledore's never said anything about that."
Hayford glanced at him. "Maybe Dumbledore didn't know. Maybe he would have told me eventually. In any case, I am a Horcrux. We’ve no idea how it happened, but it did."
"Who told you this?" asked MacCauley.
"Hermione." MacCauley’s eyes narrowed and Hayford shook his head. "I didn't trust her, and neither did Ron, so he had her arrested--"
"From the Truce House?!" said MacCauley, aghast.
Hayford nodded. "Tested her under Veritaserum. Then I went to six different people to confirm it. Padma Patil, Snape, Healers, researchers..."
"And you're..."
"Horcruxed."
"Harry, she could’ve--"
"Oi, you're the one who wanted to bring her into all of this in the first place," said Hayford. "Besides, all complex readings of magical auras and all that aside, there's one pretty simple test: if I’m a Horcrux, I can still speak Parseltongue." Hayford looked up. "He’s one too, obviously," he said, pointing at Harry.
Harry felt a crawling sensation along his spine. Bloody hell. That was... that was beyond disgusting. Suddenly he felt soiled.
MacCauley took a deep breath. "So it's not just the time shattering."
"It's not just the time shattering that’s gone wrong. It's me." Harry winced at the pain in Hayford’s voice.
"Harry, God, I’m so sorry," said MacCauley to Hayford.
"Funny, here you thought that maybe when you went back in time, we'd all disappear, right?"
"Right."
"Draco, what if it's not everyone in our timeline that needs to disappear, but just me?"
"What?"
Hayford looked down at their clasped hands. "I'm the one who's wrong. I'm the one who needs to just..."
"No, come on." MacCauley reached out and cupped Hayford's cheek, gently tilting his head up to look at him.
Harry could feel his mouth dropping open, and the general feeling of shock in the room was palpable. No. No way. It couldn't be. MacCauley had said that they were friends, but...
"The timeline would be unstable whether you were yourself or not," MacCauley said urgently. "The one doesn't have to have anything to do with the other--"
"It might, if the reason the timeline is unstable is that not only did Dumbledore die, but I was left alive. If what I've done, as Head Auror and fucking Voldemort Wrapping Paper, has been so different from what I should have done that--"
"You're not fucking wrapping paper, you're still yourself, only--"
Hayford reached up and brushed a strand of red off MacCauley's forehead, and gave him a grim smile. "Not really. Hermione, Remus, Padma, all of them tested me. I'm no better than Voldemort, because part of me is Voldemort. And Hermione's got a theory that once the original body of a Horcrux-maker dies, their Horcruxes grow more powerful within their containers, to try to get a new body. They were right all along."
MacCauley was silent for a moment. "I bet Weasley had a fine time saying I told you so," he finally said bitterly.
Hayford shook his head. "He cried," he said, his voice tight. "I haven’t seen him cry since Molly and Percy died."
MacCauley drew closer and pulled Hayford to him. "Fuck," he said, and closed his eyes, burying his face in Hayford's hair, and it was as though there was nobody in the world but the two of them. "Fuck, all this time, all this worry..."
"But hey, maybe... maybe it'll all be all right, as long as I die," said Hayford. "Or rather, he does." He pulled back slightly and looked at Harry.
What?
"What?!" said Hermione.
"He's a Horcrux," said Hayford. "What else should you do, with a piece of Voldemort's soul?"
"All right, that is enough," said McGonagall, breaking in at last after a discussion that had raged for almost an hour. "Mr... Hayford," she said, turning to Hayford, "Regarding the decision to allow Mr. MacCauley to do what he came here to do, I am sorry, but the decision has already been made. I'm sorry that you apparently went to a great deal of trouble to come here and argue your case, but I still cannot allow you to do what you have asked us to. It would be utterly irresponsible."
"Even after seeing him?" said Fred, jerking his head towards Hayford. "Where d'you think he came from, then? And how does he know all the stuff he knows? Doesn't it prove anything to you?"
"It certainly makes coming to any decision somewhat more problematic, but in the end--"
"Somewhat more problematic?" said George. "Utterly buggers it up, I'd say."
"Professor Lupin, what do you think?" asked Hermione.
"I am inclined to agree with all of you, that their story is extremely compelling," said Lupin. "But in the end... I'm sorry. I have to agree with Professor McGonagall. We can't just let them go."
"Tonks?"
"I already said I believe him," said Tonks. "I vote we let them go."
"And I already said that this is not a democracy and we are not having a vote," said McGonagall.
"So what are you going to do with us?" asked Hayford wearily. Harry couldn't help noticing that Hayford wasn't looking much better than MacCauley by this point, his hands trembling and his grey eyes bloodshot.
"Keep you here, until Albus returns," said McGonagall. "Then turn you over to the full Order, and decide what to do with you as a group."
"Keep us imprisoned, then?" asked Hayford. "We haven't done anything wrong."
"I highly doubt you'll be confined for any terribly long period of time," said McGonagall.
"Just long enough to make sure we fail in what we came all this way to do," said MacCauley bitterly. He and Hayford shared a look of despair, and Hayford covered MacCauley's hand with his own.
"All right, then," he said, turning back to McGonagall. "I understand." He cleared his throat. "One thing, though. Hermione was also able to work out when the time traveller is going to land."
"We already knew that," said MacCauley.
"No, we had a rough guess as to when the time traveller was going to affect the timeline," said Hayford. "Hermione and Padma were able to figure out that he's going to land in the Room of Requirement around 7:30. They said that if you still refused to let MacCauley go, you should still have someone meet the time traveller there. Especially as it's almost certainly going to be Fenrir Greyback."
"Very well," said McGonagall. "We will do so." She paused. "Thank you."
Link to Part Ia
Link to Part Ib
Link to Part IIa (Previous)
Link to Part IIc (Next)
Link to Part IId
