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Dimly, he could tell that something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. He could hear screams, and the sound of people running. He slipped down from the bunk and reached for his clothes, but Mr. Weasley, who had pulled on his jeans over his own pajamas, said, “No time, Harry -- just grab a jacket and get outside -- quickly!”
Harry did as he was told and hurried out of the tent, Ron at his heels.
By the light of the few fires that were still burning, he could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.
A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Harry squinted at them….They didn’t seem to have faces….Then he realized that their heads were hooded and their faces masked. High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small.
More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice Harry saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.
The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and Harry recognized one of them: Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.
That’s sick,” Ron muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. “That is really sick….”
Hermione and Ginny came hurrying toward them, pulling coats over their nightdresses, with Mr. Weasley right behind them. At the same moment, Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the boys’ tent, fully dressed, with their sleeves rolled up and their wands out.
“We’re going to help the Ministry!” Mr. Weasley shouted over all the noise, rolling up his own sleeves. “You lot -- get into the woods, and stick together. I’ll come and fetch you when we’ve sorted this out!”
Bill, Charlie, and Percy were already sprinting away toward the oncoming marchers; Mr. Weasley tore after them. Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction toward the source of the trouble. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was coming ever closer.
“C’mon,” said Fred, grabbing Ginny’s hand and starting to pull her toward the wood. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and George followed. They all looked back as they reached the trees. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was larger than ever; they could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the hooded wizards in the center, but they were having great difficulty. It looked as though they were scared to perform any spell that might make the Roberts family fall.
The colored lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around them in the cold night air. Harry felt himself being pushed hither and thither by people whose faces he could not see. Then he heard Ron yell with pain.
“What happened?” said Hermione anxiously, stopping so abruptly that Harry walked into her. “Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid -- lumos!”
She illuminated her wand and directed its narrow beam across the path. Ron was lying sprawled on the ground.
“Tripped over a tree root,” he said angrily, getting to his feet again.
“Well, with feet that size, hard not to,” said a drawling voice from behind them.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned sharply. Draco Malfoy was standing alone nearby, leaning against a tree, looking utterly relaxed. His arms folded, he seemed to have been watching the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees.
Ron told Malfoy to do something that Harry knew he would never have dared say in front of Mrs. Weasley.
“Language, Weasley,” said Malfoy, his pale eyes glittering. “Hadn’t you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn’t like her spotted, would you?”
He nodded at Hermione, and at the same moment, a blast like a bomb sounded from the campside, and a flash of green light momentarily lit the trees around them.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Hermione defiantly.
“Granger, they’re after Muggles,” said Malfoy. “D’you want to be showing off your knickers in midair. Because if you do, hang around...they’re moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh.”
“Hermione’s a w--” Harry started heatedly but was cut off by a bang from the other side of the trees. Forest detritus knocked everyone to the ground but Ron, who clutched the tree next to him.
“Augh, get off me, Potter!”
“You’re sitting on my hair, you big git!”
Muffled curses came from the twist of limbs and cloaks. Harry found himself collapsed in a heap, tangled with Hermione and Malfoy.
“This is hopeless.” Hermione tried throwing up her hands, an effort thwarted by Harry’s elbow and Malfoy’s shoulder.
Ron climbed to his feet and leaned down to help. His hand reached for Harry’s, but before he could, a glittery silver dome sprang up around the three tangled on the floor, throwing Ron back into the tree with a thump.
“Ron!” Harry shouted from under Malfoy’s surprisingly comfortable leg, watching his friend look around dazed.
“Do you hear that?” Harry asked Hermione.
Hermione tilted her head towards the ground, listening closely. A soft humming began to increase in volume as Ron struggled to his feet.
“What? Harry, what is this? I can’t get through! You have to--” Ron was interrupted by a moan from Malfoy.
Malfoy said, “Shut it, Weasel. This hammering is already loud enough without your annoying voice on top of it.” Ron scowled and opened his mouth, but Hermione groaned and clutched her head.
The humming had gotten louder, so loud now that Harry was also wincing and covering his ears. But nothing he did blocked out the noise. It reverberated, bouncing off the insides of his skull until he thought his head would shatter. Grunting, Harry buried his pounding head into the only direction that seemed to ease anything, Hermione’s side.
A faint crack of malicious laughter and distant screams barely permeated the clearing, just enough to remind them where they were.
“What are you two doing? Get up!” Ron said, tensely scanning the forest around them.
But Harry couldn’t answer him, couldn’t stand, couldn’t do anything, and it didn’t seem Malfoy or Hermione could either. The three of them were stuck in this hazy cloud of thrumming echos and pounding pain. Huddling closer to Hermione’s side, he could feel Malfoy’s shoulder digging into his thigh, but couldn’t bring himself to care.
The humming was reaching for a crescendo. As it squeaked up the register, Harry screwed up his eyes, smushing his glasses so hard against Hermione he felt them crack.
Then--as suddenly it came on--the humming evaporated. One moment he wanted to rip his head open to ease the rattling din, the next it was gone, with only a faint tinkle easing away with a whisper.
The silver dome had apparently vanished too, because Ron was hurrying over unimpeded now.
“Finally! Hermione, grab my hand. I’ll pull you out first and--” but he never finished his sentence. As soon as she grabbed his hand, he screamed and jumped back, his hand smoking.
“Auughhh!!! My hand!”
“Oh no, Ron!” Hermione struggled to get to her feet. “Ron, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what I did! Let me see.” She ran over, reaching for his smoking hand, but pulled back as he yanked it away from her, panting.
“This is just great,” muttered Malfoy, rolling over and unraveling himself from his cloak. He shook it as he got to his feet, completely ignoring the other three, which suited Harry just fine. He didn’t want to think about how close he had gotten to Malfoy just then. Or the fact that he hadn’t really minded.
“What was all that, d’you reckon?” Harry asked, glasses askew, Harry held his stomach and shakily got to his feet. The pain in his head was dissipating, but the weird feeling in his stomach was new. He squinted over at Ron, who was flexing his hand experimentally, wincing in pain. “How bad is it?”
He sighed as he felt the remnants of his glasses break even more.
“I have the strangest feeling in my head right now,” Hermione answered instead, as she touched it gingerly. “No weird humming anymore, though. What about you? Reparo.” She flicked her wand and his glasses fused back together. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Malfoy rubbed his chest. “The way you three run, I’m surprised no one’s followed you by now.”
Hermione scoffed, “Oh come off it, don’t play dumb. You’re going to tell me you’re not feeling weird now?” She looked pointedly at his hand on his chest. Malfoy snapped his hand away and scowled at her.
Ron looked back at them, holding his injured hand gingerly, and blinked. “Wait a minute…” he said, recognition slowly dawning in his eyes. Malfoy turned to face him, now looking significantly closer to livid.
“Don’t you dare say what you’re thinking, Weasley. It’s not gonna happen. It didn’t happen, and whatever you think might have happened, it didn’t,” Malfoy said curtly.
For once, Ron didn’t take the bait. He looked at them for another minute, his mouth hanging open slightly.
“Don’t you guys see what you look like?” he said.
The three looked at each other, then back at Ron.
“Do I have dirt on my nose?” Harry asked him, rubbing his face with his sleeve as Hermione combed her fingers through her hair looking for leaves. “What is he on about, Ron?”
“You’ve got to be kidding, Weasley. No. It’s not--no, no no no.” Malfoy was staring at Harry. “This is not happening. This cannot be happening.”
“What are you on about, Malfoy?” Hermione said before turning disgustedly to Ron. But Ron’s face was more grim than Harry had ever seen.
“You guys are shining, like you’re covered in ice or glitter or something.” He paused. “This is bad. Real bad. Mum told us stories about this, but I never thought it’d be real--”
Malfoy jerked his head up again. “It’s not real, Weasley, because that can’t happen. Not here. Not with you two.” He scowled at Harry and Hermione. “I can’t-- when my father hears about this, he’s going to--” his eyes widened and he stopped, face paling. His shoulders started to shake and his breathing became erratic.
Harry said, reaching a hand out to keep the other boy from falling into him, “Malfoy, what are you on about? Slow down. You’re--”
“Don’t touch me, Potter!” He jerked himself back and away from the other boy.
As if Malfoy had punched him, Harry doubled over in pain, clutching his chest with a groan. He felt little whimpers escape as he panted, shaking violently.
Hermione gasped, grabbing Harry’s shoulder. “What did you do to him?” she growled at Malfoy, running her hands over Harry’s chest looking for damage. He felt her fingers, but everything seemed muted beneath the pain in his chest.
“Nothing!” Malfoy protested faintly, stepping back and looking more nauseous by the moment.
“We have to get you all back to the tent, now!” said Ron, still holding his burned hand.
Harry felt his whole body twitch and it was all he could do to stand upright, leaning heavily against Hermione.
“Malfoy!” Ron’s voice was muted to Harry’s ears, but still furious. “You and I both know what this is. So if you don’t grab his bloody hand RIGHT NOW and come with us back to the tent, we’re all going to be royally fucked. Do you really want everyone out there knowing what just happened?”
“What did just happen, Ron? I don’t see any glitter on us. And why can’t Harry--”
“It’s too much to explain here, and thankfully it’s fading for now. But we have to get you all back to dad. Malfoy! Now!”
Malfoy glared at Ron for a moment, then groaned and yanked Harry’s hand closer, pitching Harry forward a step. Immediately, the pain in his chest lessened, but Harry still felt like he was walking through a fog. He took a deep slow breath, straightening a little. Hermione let go of him, but still hovered, and Malfoy was determinedly looking anywhere but at Harry and Hermione.
“C’mon,” Ron said as he started carefully back towards their tent.
“Can you walk?” she asked Harry, eyes flickering to the boys’ hands.
He nodded once, leaning on her for support as the three hobbled slowly and quietly after Ron.
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Back in the tent, Ron paced. Harry leaned forward with his arms on the table, Malfoy grasping his hand grumpily. Hermione stood behind him and rubbed small circles on Harry’s back as they waited. He didn’t want to admit it out loud, even if he had the energy to do so, but the simple circles she made were more soothing than they had any right to be.
A moment later, Mr. Weasley burst in.
“Oh, thank heavens you’re all here.” He stopped short staring at Malfoy. “Draco Malfoy--what--Ron, what--?” He looked at Ron, who stopped pacing.
“I think they just Time-Shifted.” Ron said bluntly. Malfoy twitched.
“Oh come off it, Weasley.”
Ron crossed his arms. “Alright then, you snot-nosed prick. How else would you explain what just happened?”
Malfoy said nothing.
Mr. Weasley stared at the four of them.
“Well . . that is...uh...that is to say...Ron, that’s preposterous. Why on earth would you--”
“They were freaking out, Dad! Something about a really loud humming noise, apparently, at any rate, since I couldn’t hear it. So there’s that. And there was this shield thing that bounced me off. And Harry’s chest!?” At this point, he was talking to Malfoy, who opened his mouth furiously. “What about that? That’s--”
“You’re wrong, Weaslebee. It has to be something--”
“Wait, what are you talking about, Ron? Harry and I--”
“Enough!” Mr. Weasley closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sit down, Ron. And tell me exactly what happened.”
A quarter of an hour later, they had brought him up to speed. An uneasy silence filled the tent. Mr. Weasley stood abruptly. Harry foggily watched him pace back and forth in the tiny entryway.
“Mr. Weasley?” Hermione said tentatively. “Did something happen to us? What did Ron see that Harry and I couldn’t?”
Mr. Weasley put his hands on his hips and looked at her for a long moment. He took a deep breath and blew it out hard before sitting down at the table.
“Before I answer your question, Hermione, there is something I have to explain.” Harry watched her face take on its diligent I’m-paying-attention look.
“To you and Harry, growing up without magic and then suddenly discovering an entire magical world exists was probably, I mean, I’m assuming...or rather wait...that’s not right...what I mean to say is.” He took a deep breath. “What you three have apparently just experienced is something called a Timeshift Bond, typically just called a Timeshift. This is a very rare type of magic, one that was, to my knowledge, a mere myth, albeit a fantastical one. To Ron, Draco, and myself, discovering it could possibly be real,” he scoffed. “Why, it would be the equivalent of--” he fumbled for a moment.
“Discovering magic existed,” Ron supplied.
“Yes, quite so.” Mr. Weasley nodded. He looked at the four of them speculatively.
“This bond’s very existence has been debated for centuries. The limited information available comes from works of fiction or myth, lost to the realm of wizarding bedtime stories. There are three generally accepted truths about Timeshift bonds.” He tapped his fingers against the table.
“One, this bond manifested at crucial moments in history, when two, or three it would seem, individuals touched at that pivotal moment. Two, the bond always preceded a cataclysmic magical event. The bond that is created is a sort of check-and-balance for this major event. Major floods caused by improper magic use, famine affecting magical creatures, maniacal despots rising to power...” Mr. Weasley trailed off.
Everyone looked pointedly at Malfoy, who flushed and narrowed his eyes but said nothing.
Clearing his throat, Mr. Weasley continued. “The power from this bond is clearly starting to grow inside you three. These things that you felt, the humming, the barrier Ron couldn’t penetrate? These things are...symptoms of this bond. No one is really sure of any others but those are--”
“What about me?” Harry forced his mind to clear a little bit. Sitting helped. Sitting next to Hermione helped. Unfortunately sitting next to Malfoy helped too. “Why did my chest practically go up in flames before?”
“I don’t know.” Mr. Weasley sighed. “As I said, I know very little about this magical bond.”
“Then surely Dumbledore would know?” Harry said, feeling slightly dizzy -- he hoped only with frustration. “It’s not too long until we’re back at Hogwarts. Can’t we just ask him?” Leaning back in his chair helped. He rubbed his chest again.
“I have to be honest with you, Harry. I trust Dumbledore with my life, do you understand? But Dumbledore has,” his eyes flicked to Malfoy, who had leaned forward with interest, “many things on his plate right now,” he finished evasively. “Let’s speak to him about this after we talk to Molly.” He sighed. “And Aunt Muriel.”
“Aunt Muriel?” Ron said disgustedly.
“As fascinating as your family history undoubtedly is,” Malfoy’s voice dripped sarcasm, “I really must be getting along.” He started getting up from his chair, but a fierce glare from Ron kept him pinned as Mr. Weasley spoke from his chair.
“That this power was believed to be a myth does not mean people did not try to acquire it--by any means necessary,” Mr. Weasley said pointedly. “In nearly every fable, er, account, I suppose, people sought after it desperately. Some even claimed to know how it worked, though no one really believed that. What caused its appearance, the effects it had on the people involved, how to use it. None of it is truly known or recorded. All anyone knew is that it is incredibly powerful magic and people have killed and died for the chance to possess it. They don’t much care what happens to the members of the bond, either.”
At this, Mr. Weasley looked at Malfoy.
“Do you understand, Mr. Malfoy? It is not just undesirable for the three of you to be connected. Our most important job now is to find out everything we can to protect the three of you and ensure that no one knows of this magic’s existence. Regardless of if you believe in the bond or not, the three of you are now in grave danger because of what other people believe.”
Malfoy’s eyes flitted around the room like a trapped animal. Harry felt him take a deep breath. “I understand.” he said hoarsely.
“And do you also understand,” Mr. Weasley continued carefully, “that you cannot go home tonight? That you and Harry and Hermione must remain nearly touching at all times for the next 24 hours? And that they cannot go back home with you for what I’m sure are obvious reasons?”
Malfoy stood and raked his hands through his hair in frustration.
A wave of dizziness fell over Harry. His eyes swam in and out of focus and the bottom of his stomach dropped out. He felt himself sag to the side, a soft oomph coming from the wall he leaned into.
“Oy!” Ron’s shout stopped Malfoy. “Look at them!”
Harry could faintly see three blurry heads turn to him. Hermione’s head is heavy, he thought dazedly.
Malfoy took a step closer to them, and Harry blinked his eyes back into focus. He felt Hermione straighten up a little and start rubbing circles on his back again. For the second time, he thought about how good it felt. He took a deep breath and blinked but otherwise didn’t move.
“Fine!” Malfoy said, walking around and grasping both of their shoulders roughly. Harry jumped at the zing! that went from his head to the tip of his toes. He looked at Hermione, whose eyes had widened too. No one said anything.
“But I need to talk to Theo first,” he said with finality.
“Who?” Ron asked.
“Theo Nott. He’s in my tent. You need to bring him here, since I obviously can’t leave with these two, you absolute--” he looked over at Mr. Weasley and caught himself. “I have to tell him something to explain to my parents why I’m not coming home tonight.”
“Go, Ron. Quickly.” Mr. Weasley nodded at his son. Ron shook his head and stormed out muttering.
Hermione wrung her hands. Before Harry could ask her to stop and go back to rubbing his back, she said, “You said there were three things you knew, Mr. Weasley, but you only told us two.”
Sighing heavily, he looked over at them. “The third point that every account relates,” he said quietly, “is that there is no way out of this. No countercurse, no potion, no ritual, nothing. Your lives, it would seem, have been appropriated by fate. We can only hope to figure out what that purpose is before. . .” he trailed off.
“You can’t be serious.” Hermione looked at him in disbelief. “How are we supposed to live like this? And forever!? That’s not possible. This can’t be permanent. We have to find some sort of countercurse.”
“Most people would be thrilled at the honor of being around me all day. But of course, you wouldn’t count yourself lucky, would you?” Malfoy interrupted her furious rambling with a sneer.
She rounded on him. “You! I cannot believe we’re being threatened with your presence for the next twenty-four hours, let alone for the foreseeable future! You have officially progressed beyond a cockroach and degraded to a slimy little worm.” Malfoy’s face flushed again. She persisted mercilessly. “If I stepped on you, would you slither away or squelch beneath my shoe? Let’s find out!”
Before Malfoy could retort, she whipped out her wand and pointed it at him. Mr. Weasley jumped to his feet shouting, but it didn’t matter--Hermione had already frozen. Harry saw Malfoy collapse to his knees, howling in pain, his hands clutched his head tightly as if they were the only things keeping his skull together.
“Hermione. You must put your wand down. He’s going to fall unconscious if you keep it up,” Mr. Weasley said, walking slowly towards her with open hands as Malfoy started to rock back and forth.
Hermione didn’t move, her gaze trapped by the writhing boy on the floor. Mr. Weasley eased her wand hand down, and Malfoy’s body melted into the floor. He lost his balance and pitched into Harry’s knees. Harry blinked but didn’t say anything. Malfoy leaning against him made the ache in his chest loosen just a little.
“As much anger as you feel right now, you cannot act on it,” Mr. Weasley said, quietly helping her to her chair. “The amount of pain you can cause each other is magnified by the power of the bond. Your connection is new. It’s raw and untethered, nothing grounding it. Magical bonds need foundations to be successful. They’re usually only entered into by conscious choice. For this to happen to the three of you, at your ages, with your histories, I don’t even want to consider the potential consequences.” He paused again. “But as much pain as you can cause each other, if you’re not careful, it is nothing compared to what I’m worried could happen if others find out.”
Harry watched Malfoy’s shoulders rise and fall against his knee with a mild fascination. Hermione said nothing. There was nothing to say.
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It took Ron forty-five minutes to return, Theo Nott in tow. Theo went straight over to Malfoy, but Ron looked thoughtfully at his dad. “Dad, what happens to freed house-elves?”
Mr. Weasley stopped pacing at Ron’s question. “I’m not sure, son. It doesn’t happen very frequently.”
“Mr. Crouch just freed his elf,” Ron said offhandedly. Mr. Weasley looked surprised. Ron continued, “Apparently, Amos Diggory found her with the wand that had cast the Dark Mark.”
Mr. Weasley’s was thunderstruck. “That couldn’t possibly--how could an elf--they must be out of their--” he spluttered.
“Where’s she going to go?” Hermione asked.
Mr. Weasley ran his hands over his face. “She’ll go to Hogwarts, I expect,” he answered. “There aren’t many other places that are likely to take a freed elf...” Mr. Weasley continued talking to Hermione, but Harry tuned them out and focused his limited attention on the two Slytherins in the corner.
“...tell you what’s going on,” Malfoy said quietly. “I don’t even know if there is anything to tell. But on the off chance there is,” he grimaced, “it’ll be bad.”
The side of Theo’s face Harry could see looked worried. He murmured something Harry couldn’t hear.
“Wednesday morning tops, though I really hope the night before.” Malfoy scowled and looked over at Harry, who pretended to stare off into the table again. Not a hard sell, since his head still felt like a rock. Or like a cloud. Or like a rock made of clouds. What on Earth was he on about. He’d distracted himself so thoroughly he nearly missed Theo pocketing something Malfoy passed him.
Mr. Weasley looked over to the two Slytherins. “Almost done, Draco?”
“Yes, sir,” he said automatically, then looked up and blinked in surprise.
“I expect Mr. Nott should be getting going then.” Mr. Weasley said, not unkindly.
Theo held Draco’s arm for a moment and gave him a long look before turning to Mr. Weasley.
In a quiet voice, Harry heard Theo say to Mr. Weasley, “He’ll say he’s fine, but If he needs anything, would you mind please owling this address instead of his parents?” Theo handed Mr. Weasley a crisp business card with an address written in small, elegant print.
If Mr. Weasley was surprised, he didn’t show it. “Very good. He’s lucky to have a friend like you. Best be getting along then.”
Theo nodded and looked both ways before he left the tent.
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“I think it’s time we started packing up. Ron, go get your brothers and sister together and head back for the first portkey. We’ll pack up here and grab the second one. Don’t tell any of them what’s going on just yet.” Mr. Weasley turned to the kitchen and started vanishing the trash.
Looking like he’d rather do anything but leave them, Ron walked to the tent flap. Hesitating, he looked over at Harry and gave him a reassuring smile. “We’ll figure something out, Harry. Don’t you worry. There’s no way that we can’t figure out a way to fix this,” he said before walking back outside.
“You three, come with me,” Mr. Weasley called out. Malfoy shakily climbed to his feet. Harry was grateful for Hermione’s steady, soothing hand on his arm.
As Mr. Weasley finished packing the tent with magic, Harry let Hermione help him into his cloak. She stood in front of him and adjusted it around his shoulders, and he felt such a sense of peace just being next to her that he smiled. Her eyes flicked up.
“It’ll be okay,” he told her because he had to say something. “We’ll figure this out.” She sighed, before turning resignedly to Malfoy. She was much less careful helping Malfoy into his cloak than when she helped Harry. Malfoy only looked exhausted.
Pulling up his hood, Harry slowly hooked his arm through hers. As Hermione grabbed Malfoy with her other arm, they carefully followed Mr. Weasley through the back of the campsite until they reached the portkey point.
With varying degrees of horror, resignation, and catatonia, four hands grabbed for the portkey.
“Nearly time,” said Mr. Weasley anxiously. “Just another minute--”
As they waited, the three teenagers slumped into each other with exhaustion, with the Dark Mark hovering in the night sky behind them. With a whistle and twist of reality, the four of them vanished.
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