Fic: "Always Too Late", for mk_tortie
Title: Always Too Late
Author: janicechess
Recipient: mk_tortie
Rating: PG (mild violence)
Character(s): Neville, Dumbledore, some Luna and Trio
Warnings: time travel, character death
Summary: Neville learns the truth about time.
Author's notes: mk_tortie, thanks for such an interesting request! Hope you enjoy this. To my beta-readers: I'd thank you once for each universe, but there isn't time or space enough! ~4,000 words.
Always Too Late
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Albus Dumbledore has seen many things in his life, terrible things and beautiful things, extraordinary things and mundane things. By his one hundred and thirtieth year, one thing has become perfectly clear to him: everything that could possibly happen has already happened before. Dark Wizards rise and fall and rise again, even if with a different name. Students think they know everything and are outraged to be told otherwise, and then they become parents and shake their heads to think that they were ever that foolish.
Nothing is ever really new, he has discovered, and so once one has lived long enough, nothing is truly surprising. Yet even he is shocked when a young man appears suddenly and silently in his office, materializing out of thin air into a room that was designed precisely to ensure that could never happen. There is no way he can be there, but there he is.
“Professor Dumbledore, I’m sorry I had to do this, but I had no choice. Please, I need your help.”
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The worst day of Neville's life was the day he received his Order of Merlin, First Class. All through school he'd secretly worried that he wasn't heroic enough to be a Gryffindor; when he'd stepped into the clearing carrying Luna's limp body and found Harry, Ron, and Hermione lying lifeless on the ground along with Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange, he'd known it for sure. A sea of strangers had witnessed him receiving the medal commemorating his failure; it hung heavily around his neck, the cool touch of gold against his skin a constant reminder of his shortcomings.
He should have reacted sooner. He could have helped them.
Or else he should have died with them.
The four others were given posthumous awards of course, but Voldemort had been defeated -- the public wanted to celebrate. They demanded a living, breathing hero; instead they'd gotten Neville, but apparently no one but he could tell the difference.
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"My help?" Albus says, flicking his wand beneath his desk. "We shall see, young man. But first, I'm afraid I must know how you got into this room, and who you are. No, don't try to move. You will find that your body has been immobilized, leaving only your head free. I am sure you understand I must take certain precautions, given the times we live in."
"But I … You don't recognize me? It's only been …" He closes his eyes. "Your beard was never so short. I'm such an idiot." He opens his eyes and looks straight at Albus. The desperation that was there has been replaced by resignation. "What year is this?"
"It's nineteen-seventy," Albus says carefully. He sees where this is going.
"I see. I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't mean to come here. I mean, I meant to come here, but not now. I've come from--"
"No. Do not say any more. Time travel!" Albus says the words like a curse. "It is a foolish endeavour. Anything you say or do could irrevocably alter the future."
"I wish it would. But it's always the same, no matter what I do. Nothing changes."
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They were deep in the forest when the path split: one trail to the right, one trail to the left, and one persisting steadily ahead into the darkness. The pines loomed tall above them and the air was silent and still. Neville stopped, as did the others, but while they looked frustrated, Neville was frantic. The path diverged, just as he had been told it would. He could no longer pretend that his visitor last night had been merely a bad dream.
"Right," said Harry. He turned to face them, one hand clenched in his hair and the other on his wand. "I guess we need to split up. Um. Ron and Hermione, you go to the left. Luna and Neville go right. I'll keep on this path. The tree has got to be close. If you find it, then--"
"I think we should stick together." Neville forced himself to speak up, even though by doing so he was acknowledging that this was real, that the warning he had received from … from himself had been true. Bad things are going to happen. You have to stay together, he had been told.
"It's all right, Neville," said Luna, patting him on the arm. "I know lots of hexes, and so do you. Even if we do encounter a Grumping Gabberleech we'll still be able to defend ourselves."
"Also, we've been searching for hours," added Hermione. She sounded tired. They all did, really. "We need to find the tree, and if we split up, it will go much faster."
Neville shook his head. How could he explain to them? They would never believe him. "I've just got a bad feeling about this. It's safer if we're together." He clenched his fist around his wand, seeing the looks on their faces, knowing what they must be thinking: we shouldn't have brought him with us. "I'm not afraid. I'm not! We just … we need to keep Harry safe," he said, looking at Ron and Hermione especially. Neville saw the change on Hermione's face and knew he'd made her see.
"Let's go this way first," she said, pointing down the left path, the narrowest of the three, the one crowded in on both sides by thick undergrowth. They all began to walk; after a few minutes the path narrowed even further. They pushed their way past the branches, thorns scratching at their arms and faces.
"Bloody brambles. Whose brilliant idea was it to take this path?" Ron said. Neville smiled as Hermione lightly smacked the back of Ron's head. They were all together; everything was going to be okay. They pressed onward.
Neville heard Harry inhale sharply as they emerged into a clearing with a towering Scots Pine in the centre. It was the largest tree Neville had ever seen, and Voldemort was standing in front of it.
"What a wonderful surprise," said Voldemort, with a terrible smile. "Kill them all except for Potter," he said to a hooded figure in the shadow of the tree.
It wasn't until the figure slumped forward, dead from five simultaneous Killing Curses, that the hood slipped off, and Neville saw that it was Bellatrix Lestrange.
Voldemort frowned and looked down at his fallen minion. "I wish you hadn't done that," he said, raising his wand. Neville saw three beams of white light hit Voldemort just as Luna fell. Then the pain hit him, and the world went black.
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"The desire to change the past is understandable," says Albus. "We all do things that we regret. But you cannot meddle with time. Countless others have tried, and they have paid the price. You should consider yourself fortunate that none of your actions have so far had any lasting effects. But you must stop."
"But … I've saved my friends. I must have. But then when I go back, my life hasn't changed. Everything is exactly the same. They're still dead and I'm still alive. I just thought … maybe I wasn't trying hard enough. I must be doing something wrong. Please, you have to know how to help me. You know everything."
Albus is momentarily overcome by both the earnestness of the request and the man's faith in him. "I am very sorry that you lost your friends," he says. He means it; this man is too young to have that much pain in his eyes. But he has to make him see the error of his ways. "You desperately believe that things should have happened another way, don't you?"
"Yes. Definitely."
"And tell me, do you believe that, were you to change the past, it could only bring about an improved world?"
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Neville knocked hesitantly on the door; it was so familiar and yet it felt like a lifetime ago that he'd last been in this corridor, in this house. He opened the door when he was invited to do so, and found Harry, Hermione, and Ron gathered around a small table. There were sheets of parchment in front of Harry; one showed a hasty sketch of a large tree with a strange symbol written below it.
"Neville!" said Hermione brightly, as Harry flipped over the drawing. "What are you doing here? The meeting isn't for another hour."
It hurt so much to look at them; Neville almost had to turn away. "Hello," he said. "Oh, is it? I must have gotten the time mixed up. Stupid of me." He grinned, trying to look the part of the bumbling friend. That was how he had been back then, wasn't it? "What are you doing? What was that drawing of? A tree?" Neville held his breath, hoping he would be trusted, would be taken into their confidence. He didn't know why they had been searching for that stupid tree in the first place. It couldn't have been that important; nothing could have been.
Ron and Hermione looked at Harry, who looked down at the table. "Oh, it's nothing," said Harry. "Just something I found. It's not important."
"It looked like … a Scots Pine, maybe? I know a bit about those. That one looked big. It must be very old."
"Thanks Neville, but it's nothing, really."
"It's not nothing," blurted Neville. "I know you're going to look for it. And you're going to take me with you, and Luna too. You're going to ask us at the meeting. But you can't go. We can't go. Not tomorrow, anyway."
"What's the matter with you, mate?" said Ron. "You all right? You don’t look all right. Maybe you should go home, skip the meeting."
"No. You have to promise me you won't go tomorrow." Neville held up his wand, pointed it at his friends. "Promise me or … or I'm not letting you out of this room. I -- it's dangerous. That tree is dangerous."
"You know something," said Harry. "Tell me what it is. It could be -- it could help us defeat Voldemort."
Hermione shook her head. "I still think it's Nagini. She makes more sense."
"Who's Nagini? Is she a Death Eater?"
"What do you know about the tree in the drawing?" said Harry, ignoring both Hermione's muttered statement and Neville's question.
Before he had come here, Neville had sworn to himself that he wouldn't give too much away, but he already had, and he had to make them see. "It's a trap," he said, "and if you go there tomorrow, you'll all die."
Three pairs of eyes stared unblinking at him. Ron laughed harshly. "That's not funny, man," he said.
"I'm not joking."
"All right," said Harry, eying Neville warily, like he was a rabid dog, "we won't go tomorrow. We'll go in two days. Or tonight, even. How's that?"
Neville dropped his wand; his hands were shaking. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you." He turned and walked out the door, hearing a furious whisper of voices once it was closed. It didn't matter what they thought of him; he had done it. He twisted his body around, reciting the incantation in his mind to return to his own time.
When he spun around again, the corridor was dark and dusty. He cautiously opened the door in front of him. The table where Harry, Ron, and Hermione had just been sitting was broken in half, the solid wood split right down the middle; Remus had done that when he'd heard that Harry was dead. Neville touched the front of his shirt and felt the round curve of his medal underneath.
So it was still the same. Again. Neville let out a choking sob and Apparated home.
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The young man stares at Albus, as if he doesn't understand the question. Then perhaps he does, as his eyes lose some of their fire. "I don't know."
"You don't know? But you must know the answer to that question. If you cannot say for certain that any alteration to the past will lead only to beneficial changes to the future, then you should not attempt to change it." Albus is using his most patient voice, the one he used to use when trying to teach the subtler aspects of Transfiguration.
"But … you can never know for certain …" His voice trails off. "That's your point, isn't it."
"So you see, then, why I cannot help you in this endeavour? Why you must accept that your friends--"
"No!"
Albus is sure that if the young man could move, his hands would be clenched tightly into fists. Albus stands up, his knees creaking, and walks around his desk until they are face to face.
"I won't accept it. Ever," the man says quietly.
"So I see," says Albus. "I presume, from what I've seen so far, that you are a Gryffindor. I also presume that you will never give up your quest. It appears I have no choice but to tell you the truth and hope that you are strong enough for it. Some are not."
"What truth?"
"The truth of why you have not been successful in changing your past. It is quite simple: changing your past is impossible."
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"Right," said Harry, "I guess we need to split up. Um. Ron and Hermione, you go to the left. Luna and Neville go right. I'll keep on this path. The tree has got to be close. If you find it, then send your Patronus to tell the rest of us."
Neville made his way along the path, enjoying the cool quiet air of the forest. Luna was beside him, head tilted up as she walked.
"What are you looking for?" Neville asked, looking up as well.
"Dragon Squirrels," she said. "They have an affinity for large trees, so I thought that we-- oh my." She stopped abruptly, staring ahead of them on the path.
Neville looked ahead as well, and nearly tripped when he saw what was there. "Is that … what is that?" he said in a whisper. "It looks like … it …"
It ran up to them, waving its hands. "What are you doing?" it yelled at Neville. "I told you last night that you had to stay together. Don't you remember? You promised me that you would."
"Are you a Chameleon sprite?" said Luna. "I've never seen one before, but you look exactly like him--“ She pointed at Neville, who was frozen in terror. “-- so you must be. Unless you really are him. You do look slightly older." She craned her neck forward, peering at the Doppelganger's face. "Look, Neville! Perhaps in the future you will be able to grow a beard after all."
"Why didn't you stay together?" it asked angrily. "You have to go to the others. Now!" For a moment, Neville had thought that this person, this entity, might really be a future version of himself, but now he knew it couldn't be; he could never be that frightening. He didn't have it in him.
Somewhere in the forest, Hermione screamed. All three of them looked toward the sound. Neville shivered and started to run back down the path; Luna followed him, looking grim.
"You're too late," the stranger called after them. "We're always too late." Neville stopped and looked back, but the man was gone.
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"I don't understand," the young man says. "I went back and … different things happened. Different things than the first time."
"Yes, you did go back. But to which past?"
"What do you mean? There … isn't there only one?"
Albus shakes his head. "There is a past for every universe. The actual number is incalculable, possibly infinite. In the beginning, it is thought, there was one. But then, a choice was made."
"What choice?"
"Any choice. It does not matter. There was a fork in the road, and time split in two, half choosing one way, half choosing the other," Albus says, spreading his hands apart, "thus creating one universe for each possibility. This has been occurring since the beginning of time, with every choice and every action. Every time a particle of dust falls one way instead of another, a new universe is born. Every time you choose to have kippers instead of sausages ..." He pauses and looks into the young man's eyes. "Every time you travel through time …"
The man draws his brow downward, his face a picture of concentration. "I don't understand."
"When you appear in the past, that in itself is a change. The universe … splits the moment you appear. A new set of possibilities emerges. And when you return, it is to your own time, your own universe--"
"Where nothing has changed."
"Yes. Precisely." Albus pauses, wishing he could make his next words easier to hear. "I am sorry to say you could spend the rest of your life trying to save your friends. You could save them a thousand times in a thousand different realities. But you will never be able to save them in your own."
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Neville crouched behind a cluster of young trees, watching the clearing. Voldemort and Bellatrix were talking; he could not hear what they were saying. While he waited, Neville fantasized about leaping from his hiding place and slaying them both single-handedly, before the others could even arrive. His heart was racing with excitement. This time, he was going to save them.
He heard their voices coming loud and clear up the path, broadcasting their arrival before they were visible through the undergrowth. Then Ron and Hermione emerged into the clearing, arguing. They were alone. Neville could have screamed in frustration -- he had tried in so many ways to get them all here together, but it never worked; they never listened.
"What a delightful surprise," Voldemort said, smiling into their shocked faces. He nodded at Bellatrix, who lashed out with her wand, forming deadly words with a vicious snarl.
Ron fell, dead from the Killing Curse. Hermione screamed, anguished, and cast the same Unforgivable back at Bellatrix. Neville wondered if she'd ever cast one before. But whether she had or not, she clearly wanted Bellatrix dead. Neville felt a small surge of satisfaction at the sight of Bellatrix slumping forward, eyes vacant, but it was short-lived. Hermione turned to run, but before she had taken three steps, the green light found her too, this time from Voldemort's wand.
Neville couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Even if this was how it had gone, it should have been different by now, after everything he'd done.
He heard the quick patter of someone running, the sound of branches being pushed aside. Harry. Neville stood, preparing. The Ministry had examined Harry's wand after the battle; Neville knew exactly what he was going to cast.
Two beams of white light shot at Voldemort, one from directly in front of him and one from off to his left. Harry followed the second beam with his eyes, found Neville, and nodded at him.
Voldemort screamed, his face contorted with rage. "No! I am immortal!" he said, before his body dissolved into mist.
Neville leaned against a tree, shaking and breathing heavily. He had saved Harry. It wasn't enough, but it was something. It was a start. Harry began to walk towards him, frowning. Neville wished he could stay and talk to him, but the other Neville -- the one who actually belonged in this time -- would be arriving any minute. He had to leave. Now.
"See you soon," said Neville softly. He turned and thought the words and then turned again, facing the empty clearing. The tree was marked with a plaque. But now, thought Neville, it would be different. One fewer name would be on it. And the next time, there would be one fewer still. He jogged over to it.
In memory of Harry James Potter, Ronald Bilius Weasley, Hermione Jane Granger, and Luna Lovegood. Their sacrifices will never be forgotten.
Neville sat under the tree for a long time. When he rose, it was dark. He needed help. And there was only one person who could help him.
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The young man looks lost. "But … Time-Turners …"
"Ah, yes. Those are a special case. Fascinating devices. They do indeed allow one to return to one's own past, but oddly enough, only to ensure that what has already happened does indeed happen. A lifetime of study would not be sufficient to resolve the paradox."
"But I don't understand.… Why did you say time travel was dangerous, if you can never change the past?" the young man asks with tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.
Albus conjures a chair and releases the Partial Body Bind. It would be cruel to require him to stand any longer. "Just because you cannot change your own past does not mean you cannot change somebody else's future. By being here, you have altered my future. I now know things that I would never have known otherwise."
The man falls into the chair and covers his face with his hands. "I … I'm sorry. I just wanted to help."
"Perhaps you did," says Albus. "Would you like some tea?"
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"What are you looking for?"
"Dragon Squirrels," said Luna. "They have an affinity for large trees, so I thought that if we found one, we could follow it."
"What do Dragon Squirrels look like?" asked Neville, imagining miniature dragons with a fondness for nuts.
"Oh, they just look like regular squirrels, except they breathe fire when they're angry."
Neville frowned. "Isn't it bad for things that live in trees to breathe fire?"
Luna laughed as though Neville had just said the silliest thing in the world. "They don't get angry when they're in the trees, of course."
Neville could think of no reply to that. He didn't think he could get angry in a forest either -- it was so peaceful. He had the feeling that nothing bad could ever happen here. They walked on in silence until Luna stopped, looking to her right.
"Oh, look at that snake! It's so big!" she said in a hushed voice.
Beside the path lay a large snake coiled on itself. Its earth-hued pattern blended with the dirt and dry leaves of the forest floor. It lifted its head, its tongue flicking through the air.
"What should we do?" Neville asked quietly. "Do you think it's dang--"
In a blur of motion, the snake struck out. It was so large and so fast. "Oh," said Luna, collapsing to the ground, holding her side. She began to convulse, and the snake hissed. Neville had the ridiculous thought that the snake seemed pleased with itself.
"No!" shouted Neville, slashing with his wand. Sectumsempra, he thought, over and over and over.
The snake lay in a bubbling pool of blood, its life slowly draining away. Neville watched the black liquid run through the dirt. In the distance, he heard a scream. It sounded like Hermione.
He knelt by Luna's side and touched her neck, feeling for a pulse, hoping the blue of her lips was just a trick of the light. He gently picked her up, then turned and ran back down the path. A bright flash of green cast ghoulish shadows across the trunks of the trees and on the ground.
He kept running, hoping he wasn't too late.
Minutes later, unseen by anyone, a sickly mist rose from the snake's head like a fog just before a white light lit up the forest.
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The young man puts down his teacup and stands. He nods at Albus and says, "It was nice to see you again, Professor." His voice is low and sad. Then he twists around and is gone.
Albus sips at his tea, feeling very old indeed.
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Author: janicechess
Recipient: mk_tortie
Rating: PG (mild violence)
Character(s): Neville, Dumbledore, some Luna and Trio
Warnings: time travel, character death
Summary: Neville learns the truth about time.
Author's notes: mk_tortie, thanks for such an interesting request! Hope you enjoy this. To my beta-readers: I'd thank you once for each universe, but there isn't time or space enough! ~4,000 words.
Always Too Late
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Albus Dumbledore has seen many things in his life, terrible things and beautiful things, extraordinary things and mundane things. By his one hundred and thirtieth year, one thing has become perfectly clear to him: everything that could possibly happen has already happened before. Dark Wizards rise and fall and rise again, even if with a different name. Students think they know everything and are outraged to be told otherwise, and then they become parents and shake their heads to think that they were ever that foolish.
Nothing is ever really new, he has discovered, and so once one has lived long enough, nothing is truly surprising. Yet even he is shocked when a young man appears suddenly and silently in his office, materializing out of thin air into a room that was designed precisely to ensure that could never happen. There is no way he can be there, but there he is.
“Professor Dumbledore, I’m sorry I had to do this, but I had no choice. Please, I need your help.”
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The worst day of Neville's life was the day he received his Order of Merlin, First Class. All through school he'd secretly worried that he wasn't heroic enough to be a Gryffindor; when he'd stepped into the clearing carrying Luna's limp body and found Harry, Ron, and Hermione lying lifeless on the ground along with Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange, he'd known it for sure. A sea of strangers had witnessed him receiving the medal commemorating his failure; it hung heavily around his neck, the cool touch of gold against his skin a constant reminder of his shortcomings.
He should have reacted sooner. He could have helped them.
Or else he should have died with them.
The four others were given posthumous awards of course, but Voldemort had been defeated -- the public wanted to celebrate. They demanded a living, breathing hero; instead they'd gotten Neville, but apparently no one but he could tell the difference.
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"My help?" Albus says, flicking his wand beneath his desk. "We shall see, young man. But first, I'm afraid I must know how you got into this room, and who you are. No, don't try to move. You will find that your body has been immobilized, leaving only your head free. I am sure you understand I must take certain precautions, given the times we live in."
"But I … You don't recognize me? It's only been …" He closes his eyes. "Your beard was never so short. I'm such an idiot." He opens his eyes and looks straight at Albus. The desperation that was there has been replaced by resignation. "What year is this?"
"It's nineteen-seventy," Albus says carefully. He sees where this is going.
"I see. I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't mean to come here. I mean, I meant to come here, but not now. I've come from--"
"No. Do not say any more. Time travel!" Albus says the words like a curse. "It is a foolish endeavour. Anything you say or do could irrevocably alter the future."
"I wish it would. But it's always the same, no matter what I do. Nothing changes."
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They were deep in the forest when the path split: one trail to the right, one trail to the left, and one persisting steadily ahead into the darkness. The pines loomed tall above them and the air was silent and still. Neville stopped, as did the others, but while they looked frustrated, Neville was frantic. The path diverged, just as he had been told it would. He could no longer pretend that his visitor last night had been merely a bad dream.
"Right," said Harry. He turned to face them, one hand clenched in his hair and the other on his wand. "I guess we need to split up. Um. Ron and Hermione, you go to the left. Luna and Neville go right. I'll keep on this path. The tree has got to be close. If you find it, then--"
"I think we should stick together." Neville forced himself to speak up, even though by doing so he was acknowledging that this was real, that the warning he had received from … from himself had been true. Bad things are going to happen. You have to stay together, he had been told.
"It's all right, Neville," said Luna, patting him on the arm. "I know lots of hexes, and so do you. Even if we do encounter a Grumping Gabberleech we'll still be able to defend ourselves."
"Also, we've been searching for hours," added Hermione. She sounded tired. They all did, really. "We need to find the tree, and if we split up, it will go much faster."
Neville shook his head. How could he explain to them? They would never believe him. "I've just got a bad feeling about this. It's safer if we're together." He clenched his fist around his wand, seeing the looks on their faces, knowing what they must be thinking: we shouldn't have brought him with us. "I'm not afraid. I'm not! We just … we need to keep Harry safe," he said, looking at Ron and Hermione especially. Neville saw the change on Hermione's face and knew he'd made her see.
"Let's go this way first," she said, pointing down the left path, the narrowest of the three, the one crowded in on both sides by thick undergrowth. They all began to walk; after a few minutes the path narrowed even further. They pushed their way past the branches, thorns scratching at their arms and faces.
"Bloody brambles. Whose brilliant idea was it to take this path?" Ron said. Neville smiled as Hermione lightly smacked the back of Ron's head. They were all together; everything was going to be okay. They pressed onward.
Neville heard Harry inhale sharply as they emerged into a clearing with a towering Scots Pine in the centre. It was the largest tree Neville had ever seen, and Voldemort was standing in front of it.
"What a wonderful surprise," said Voldemort, with a terrible smile. "Kill them all except for Potter," he said to a hooded figure in the shadow of the tree.
It wasn't until the figure slumped forward, dead from five simultaneous Killing Curses, that the hood slipped off, and Neville saw that it was Bellatrix Lestrange.
Voldemort frowned and looked down at his fallen minion. "I wish you hadn't done that," he said, raising his wand. Neville saw three beams of white light hit Voldemort just as Luna fell. Then the pain hit him, and the world went black.
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"The desire to change the past is understandable," says Albus. "We all do things that we regret. But you cannot meddle with time. Countless others have tried, and they have paid the price. You should consider yourself fortunate that none of your actions have so far had any lasting effects. But you must stop."
"But … I've saved my friends. I must have. But then when I go back, my life hasn't changed. Everything is exactly the same. They're still dead and I'm still alive. I just thought … maybe I wasn't trying hard enough. I must be doing something wrong. Please, you have to know how to help me. You know everything."
Albus is momentarily overcome by both the earnestness of the request and the man's faith in him. "I am very sorry that you lost your friends," he says. He means it; this man is too young to have that much pain in his eyes. But he has to make him see the error of his ways. "You desperately believe that things should have happened another way, don't you?"
"Yes. Definitely."
"And tell me, do you believe that, were you to change the past, it could only bring about an improved world?"
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Neville knocked hesitantly on the door; it was so familiar and yet it felt like a lifetime ago that he'd last been in this corridor, in this house. He opened the door when he was invited to do so, and found Harry, Hermione, and Ron gathered around a small table. There were sheets of parchment in front of Harry; one showed a hasty sketch of a large tree with a strange symbol written below it.
"Neville!" said Hermione brightly, as Harry flipped over the drawing. "What are you doing here? The meeting isn't for another hour."
It hurt so much to look at them; Neville almost had to turn away. "Hello," he said. "Oh, is it? I must have gotten the time mixed up. Stupid of me." He grinned, trying to look the part of the bumbling friend. That was how he had been back then, wasn't it? "What are you doing? What was that drawing of? A tree?" Neville held his breath, hoping he would be trusted, would be taken into their confidence. He didn't know why they had been searching for that stupid tree in the first place. It couldn't have been that important; nothing could have been.
Ron and Hermione looked at Harry, who looked down at the table. "Oh, it's nothing," said Harry. "Just something I found. It's not important."
"It looked like … a Scots Pine, maybe? I know a bit about those. That one looked big. It must be very old."
"Thanks Neville, but it's nothing, really."
"It's not nothing," blurted Neville. "I know you're going to look for it. And you're going to take me with you, and Luna too. You're going to ask us at the meeting. But you can't go. We can't go. Not tomorrow, anyway."
"What's the matter with you, mate?" said Ron. "You all right? You don’t look all right. Maybe you should go home, skip the meeting."
"No. You have to promise me you won't go tomorrow." Neville held up his wand, pointed it at his friends. "Promise me or … or I'm not letting you out of this room. I -- it's dangerous. That tree is dangerous."
"You know something," said Harry. "Tell me what it is. It could be -- it could help us defeat Voldemort."
Hermione shook her head. "I still think it's Nagini. She makes more sense."
"Who's Nagini? Is she a Death Eater?"
"What do you know about the tree in the drawing?" said Harry, ignoring both Hermione's muttered statement and Neville's question.
Before he had come here, Neville had sworn to himself that he wouldn't give too much away, but he already had, and he had to make them see. "It's a trap," he said, "and if you go there tomorrow, you'll all die."
Three pairs of eyes stared unblinking at him. Ron laughed harshly. "That's not funny, man," he said.
"I'm not joking."
"All right," said Harry, eying Neville warily, like he was a rabid dog, "we won't go tomorrow. We'll go in two days. Or tonight, even. How's that?"
Neville dropped his wand; his hands were shaking. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you." He turned and walked out the door, hearing a furious whisper of voices once it was closed. It didn't matter what they thought of him; he had done it. He twisted his body around, reciting the incantation in his mind to return to his own time.
When he spun around again, the corridor was dark and dusty. He cautiously opened the door in front of him. The table where Harry, Ron, and Hermione had just been sitting was broken in half, the solid wood split right down the middle; Remus had done that when he'd heard that Harry was dead. Neville touched the front of his shirt and felt the round curve of his medal underneath.
So it was still the same. Again. Neville let out a choking sob and Apparated home.
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The young man stares at Albus, as if he doesn't understand the question. Then perhaps he does, as his eyes lose some of their fire. "I don't know."
"You don't know? But you must know the answer to that question. If you cannot say for certain that any alteration to the past will lead only to beneficial changes to the future, then you should not attempt to change it." Albus is using his most patient voice, the one he used to use when trying to teach the subtler aspects of Transfiguration.
"But … you can never know for certain …" His voice trails off. "That's your point, isn't it."
"So you see, then, why I cannot help you in this endeavour? Why you must accept that your friends--"
"No!"
Albus is sure that if the young man could move, his hands would be clenched tightly into fists. Albus stands up, his knees creaking, and walks around his desk until they are face to face.
"I won't accept it. Ever," the man says quietly.
"So I see," says Albus. "I presume, from what I've seen so far, that you are a Gryffindor. I also presume that you will never give up your quest. It appears I have no choice but to tell you the truth and hope that you are strong enough for it. Some are not."
"What truth?"
"The truth of why you have not been successful in changing your past. It is quite simple: changing your past is impossible."
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"Right," said Harry, "I guess we need to split up. Um. Ron and Hermione, you go to the left. Luna and Neville go right. I'll keep on this path. The tree has got to be close. If you find it, then send your Patronus to tell the rest of us."
Neville made his way along the path, enjoying the cool quiet air of the forest. Luna was beside him, head tilted up as she walked.
"What are you looking for?" Neville asked, looking up as well.
"Dragon Squirrels," she said. "They have an affinity for large trees, so I thought that we-- oh my." She stopped abruptly, staring ahead of them on the path.
Neville looked ahead as well, and nearly tripped when he saw what was there. "Is that … what is that?" he said in a whisper. "It looks like … it …"
It ran up to them, waving its hands. "What are you doing?" it yelled at Neville. "I told you last night that you had to stay together. Don't you remember? You promised me that you would."
"Are you a Chameleon sprite?" said Luna. "I've never seen one before, but you look exactly like him--“ She pointed at Neville, who was frozen in terror. “-- so you must be. Unless you really are him. You do look slightly older." She craned her neck forward, peering at the Doppelganger's face. "Look, Neville! Perhaps in the future you will be able to grow a beard after all."
"Why didn't you stay together?" it asked angrily. "You have to go to the others. Now!" For a moment, Neville had thought that this person, this entity, might really be a future version of himself, but now he knew it couldn't be; he could never be that frightening. He didn't have it in him.
Somewhere in the forest, Hermione screamed. All three of them looked toward the sound. Neville shivered and started to run back down the path; Luna followed him, looking grim.
"You're too late," the stranger called after them. "We're always too late." Neville stopped and looked back, but the man was gone.
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"I don't understand," the young man says. "I went back and … different things happened. Different things than the first time."
"Yes, you did go back. But to which past?"
"What do you mean? There … isn't there only one?"
Albus shakes his head. "There is a past for every universe. The actual number is incalculable, possibly infinite. In the beginning, it is thought, there was one. But then, a choice was made."
"What choice?"
"Any choice. It does not matter. There was a fork in the road, and time split in two, half choosing one way, half choosing the other," Albus says, spreading his hands apart, "thus creating one universe for each possibility. This has been occurring since the beginning of time, with every choice and every action. Every time a particle of dust falls one way instead of another, a new universe is born. Every time you choose to have kippers instead of sausages ..." He pauses and looks into the young man's eyes. "Every time you travel through time …"
The man draws his brow downward, his face a picture of concentration. "I don't understand."
"When you appear in the past, that in itself is a change. The universe … splits the moment you appear. A new set of possibilities emerges. And when you return, it is to your own time, your own universe--"
"Where nothing has changed."
"Yes. Precisely." Albus pauses, wishing he could make his next words easier to hear. "I am sorry to say you could spend the rest of your life trying to save your friends. You could save them a thousand times in a thousand different realities. But you will never be able to save them in your own."
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Neville crouched behind a cluster of young trees, watching the clearing. Voldemort and Bellatrix were talking; he could not hear what they were saying. While he waited, Neville fantasized about leaping from his hiding place and slaying them both single-handedly, before the others could even arrive. His heart was racing with excitement. This time, he was going to save them.
He heard their voices coming loud and clear up the path, broadcasting their arrival before they were visible through the undergrowth. Then Ron and Hermione emerged into the clearing, arguing. They were alone. Neville could have screamed in frustration -- he had tried in so many ways to get them all here together, but it never worked; they never listened.
"What a delightful surprise," Voldemort said, smiling into their shocked faces. He nodded at Bellatrix, who lashed out with her wand, forming deadly words with a vicious snarl.
Ron fell, dead from the Killing Curse. Hermione screamed, anguished, and cast the same Unforgivable back at Bellatrix. Neville wondered if she'd ever cast one before. But whether she had or not, she clearly wanted Bellatrix dead. Neville felt a small surge of satisfaction at the sight of Bellatrix slumping forward, eyes vacant, but it was short-lived. Hermione turned to run, but before she had taken three steps, the green light found her too, this time from Voldemort's wand.
Neville couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Even if this was how it had gone, it should have been different by now, after everything he'd done.
He heard the quick patter of someone running, the sound of branches being pushed aside. Harry. Neville stood, preparing. The Ministry had examined Harry's wand after the battle; Neville knew exactly what he was going to cast.
Two beams of white light shot at Voldemort, one from directly in front of him and one from off to his left. Harry followed the second beam with his eyes, found Neville, and nodded at him.
Voldemort screamed, his face contorted with rage. "No! I am immortal!" he said, before his body dissolved into mist.
Neville leaned against a tree, shaking and breathing heavily. He had saved Harry. It wasn't enough, but it was something. It was a start. Harry began to walk towards him, frowning. Neville wished he could stay and talk to him, but the other Neville -- the one who actually belonged in this time -- would be arriving any minute. He had to leave. Now.
"See you soon," said Neville softly. He turned and thought the words and then turned again, facing the empty clearing. The tree was marked with a plaque. But now, thought Neville, it would be different. One fewer name would be on it. And the next time, there would be one fewer still. He jogged over to it.
In memory of Harry James Potter, Ronald Bilius Weasley, Hermione Jane Granger, and Luna Lovegood. Their sacrifices will never be forgotten.
Neville sat under the tree for a long time. When he rose, it was dark. He needed help. And there was only one person who could help him.
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The young man looks lost. "But … Time-Turners …"
"Ah, yes. Those are a special case. Fascinating devices. They do indeed allow one to return to one's own past, but oddly enough, only to ensure that what has already happened does indeed happen. A lifetime of study would not be sufficient to resolve the paradox."
"But I don't understand.… Why did you say time travel was dangerous, if you can never change the past?" the young man asks with tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.
Albus conjures a chair and releases the Partial Body Bind. It would be cruel to require him to stand any longer. "Just because you cannot change your own past does not mean you cannot change somebody else's future. By being here, you have altered my future. I now know things that I would never have known otherwise."
The man falls into the chair and covers his face with his hands. "I … I'm sorry. I just wanted to help."
"Perhaps you did," says Albus. "Would you like some tea?"
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"What are you looking for?"
"Dragon Squirrels," said Luna. "They have an affinity for large trees, so I thought that if we found one, we could follow it."
"What do Dragon Squirrels look like?" asked Neville, imagining miniature dragons with a fondness for nuts.
"Oh, they just look like regular squirrels, except they breathe fire when they're angry."
Neville frowned. "Isn't it bad for things that live in trees to breathe fire?"
Luna laughed as though Neville had just said the silliest thing in the world. "They don't get angry when they're in the trees, of course."
Neville could think of no reply to that. He didn't think he could get angry in a forest either -- it was so peaceful. He had the feeling that nothing bad could ever happen here. They walked on in silence until Luna stopped, looking to her right.
"Oh, look at that snake! It's so big!" she said in a hushed voice.
Beside the path lay a large snake coiled on itself. Its earth-hued pattern blended with the dirt and dry leaves of the forest floor. It lifted its head, its tongue flicking through the air.
"What should we do?" Neville asked quietly. "Do you think it's dang--"
In a blur of motion, the snake struck out. It was so large and so fast. "Oh," said Luna, collapsing to the ground, holding her side. She began to convulse, and the snake hissed. Neville had the ridiculous thought that the snake seemed pleased with itself.
"No!" shouted Neville, slashing with his wand. Sectumsempra, he thought, over and over and over.
The snake lay in a bubbling pool of blood, its life slowly draining away. Neville watched the black liquid run through the dirt. In the distance, he heard a scream. It sounded like Hermione.
He knelt by Luna's side and touched her neck, feeling for a pulse, hoping the blue of her lips was just a trick of the light. He gently picked her up, then turned and ran back down the path. A bright flash of green cast ghoulish shadows across the trunks of the trees and on the ground.
He kept running, hoping he wasn't too late.
Minutes later, unseen by anyone, a sickly mist rose from the snake's head like a fog just before a white light lit up the forest.
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The young man puts down his teacup and stands. He nods at Albus and says, "It was nice to see you again, Professor." His voice is low and sad. Then he twists around and is gone.
Albus sips at his tea, feeling very old indeed.
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