Chapter 2
The tunnel is depressing and dark, just like everything in this horrible world. Scorpius can barely see, and his neck prickles as if something is looming behind him, cloaked by the shadows. He throws an anxious glance behind him. His foot catches a jagged edge, almost sending him sprawling.
Besides the ominous darkness, Scorpius cannot breathe. The air is suffocatingly thick and muggy. Every breath feels like dirt coating his lungs, making him want to cough.
After what feels like ten miles, Snape opens a crooked wooden door and gestures for Scorpius to enter a small, scarcely furnished room. A sliver of a window is barely large enough to allow the fading daylight through, casting the room in shadows. A small fireplace lines the far left wall, the embers glowing red, with a small dust-covered sofa in front. A white table sits in the other corner, the paint peeling, revealing dark wood beneath.
Scorpius manages to get a foot through the door before he is shoved from behind, a hand slamming him into the stone wall. He winces, his breath hitching as his back collides with the stone. Hermione Granger stands before him, rugged and fierce, with her hand twisting in front of his robes and the tip of her wand pressing threateningly to his throat. Caked in dirt, with a halo of grey-streaked hair like the mane of a lion, she looks terrifying. And powerful.
“You make one move, and I’ll blow your fucking brains out,” Hermione warns, dead calm.
“Safe. He’s safe,” Snape yells. He sighs like a migraine is forming when Hermione doesn’t let up on her less-than-friendly hold on Scorpius. “I said he’s safe. Let go. He’s on our side.”
“I am,” Scorpius says quickly. “So if you could just lower your wand," He holds his breath as Hermione glares at him for a beat before she begrudgingly removes her wand from where it is digging into his neck and releases him with a shove. She takes a few steps back.
Scorpius rubs the flushed mark on his neck. His other hand automatically goes to his wand pocket. Hermione notices.
“Give me your wand,” she orders sternly.
“That’s a weird tone,” Scorpius says uneasily.
“That's just the way she sounds; she has an asshole voice,” Snape drawls. He turns to Hermione, giving her a hard look. “He can keep it. Granger, tell him he's alright.”
Hermione responds apathetically, “Everything is great.”
Snape pinches the bridge of his nose. “Merlin, give me strength.”
Hermione barks a bitter laugh, shaking her head at the ground before jabbing a finger at him. “Well, I don’t believe a word you say, you filthy little—”
“It's all my fault. Me and Albus’,” Scorpius cries, startling both Hermione and Snape. His heart is pounding, but the guilt is more suffocating than the dry, dusty air.
“Albus?” Hermione narrows her eyes and turns to Snape. “Dumbledore? What does he have to do with this?”
“He doesn’t mean Dumbledore.”
Another cracked wooden door whines open, and Ron walks in. He has long, fiery hair and a bushy beard. A large scar trails from his cheek, down the column of his neck, to somewhere hidden beneath his shirt.
“Snape, a royal treat. I—” Ron stops, his smile dropping as he fumbles for his wand. “You were followed.” He points his wand at Scorpius menacingly, who goes rigid, his eyes wide.
“Put your wand down,” Snape snaps.
Ron’s eyes dart to Hermione, whose mouth is pressed in a firm line. So, Ron didn't budge. They stand in this tense stand-off: Ron confused but ready, Hermione incredulous, and Snape exasperated, waiting for someone to make the first move. Eventually, Hermione rolls her eyes.
“He’s fine.”
Ron drops his wand and groans. "Oh, thank Dumbledore.”
~*~
Hermione inspects the Time-Turner between two fingers, holding the small golden hourglass to her lit wand. Beside her, Ron is leaning back on a rickety chair that looks close to disintegrating. His face scrunches as he tries to digest what Scorpius has told them.
“Now hold on." Ron drags a hand over his beard. “You’re telling me winning the war rests on Neville? We are talking about the same Neville, right? I mean- I don't believe it. No more Voldemort. And Harry, he has a kid.” He glances at Hermione, shaking his head in disbelief. “Three kids! I mean, I’d kill to see the look on his face when he found out his kid’s chummy with mini Malfoy—no offence.”
Scorpius shrugs. “Fair enough.”
I mean, it is pretty ironic.
Ron chuckles, then rubs his hands together eagerly. “So in this other world, who am I?”
“Well.” Scorpius thinks for a moment. “You co-own Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.”
“Oh. That's cool, I guess. What about Hermione?”
“Minister of Magic.”
Hermione perks up, looking at Scorpius with poorly suppressed interest. “Really?”
“Yup, and Harry Potter’s head of Magical Law Enforcement. I'm pretty sure he’s thinking about becoming a DADA professor.”
“Okay, so she's Minister, Harry’s a mega boss auror, and… I work in a joke shop." Ron frowns before shrugging. "Well, I should’ve seen that coming. And Snape? Retired yet?” Ron beams, reaching out and lightly whacking Snape on the arm, earning a scowl from the potions teacher.
“I’m dead, presumably,” Snape drawls, casually flicking a curl from his face as Scorpius’ face falls. Ron and Hermione exchange an indecipherable glance.
In their silence, Snape smiles thinly. “You seemed a little too excited to meet me. How?”
Scorpius looks down at his hands, picking at his nails. “Voldemort—well, technically Nagini.”
“How very irritating.”
For a beat, nobody says anything. Ron sits up in his seat, rubbing his thighs, before piping up.
“So, we're supposed to help you return to this other universe. How exactly?”
Hermione interjects before Scorpius can say anything. “You cast Expelliarmus and Engorgio, yes?”
Scorpius nods.
“Well, then a simple shield charm should work,” Hermione answers. She tosses the Time-Turner back to Scorpius, who catches it clumsily. “No infected to worry about in the past, so magic is fine. How long does it last?”
“Five minutes,” Scorpius replies. “And you travel back to the same spot you stand in.”
Hermione grins and stands. “Well, that should be easy enough.”
Ron scoffs, “Mm says you.”
Ron and Hermione combust into bickering, but it was background noise to Scorpius. He gazes at Snape, sitting on the bench, listening to the conversation intently.
Scorpius wishes Albus could have met him. While Snape was brooding and cold, he remained loyal to Dumbledore and, more importantly, Lily, even after all these years. Though Scorpius guesses the same can be said about himself. Here, in this world, he is a king, admired by many and feared by even more. Yet, he is willing to give it up in a heartbeat to return to a world with Albus, with this time-travel nonsense far behind him.
Snape interrupts the bickering, his eyes still lingering on a dark stain on the floor. “The first task was in the arena, simple enough because you're still safe in the ward. The second task is likely a suicide mission.”
All eyes turn to him.
“What do you mean?” Hermione inquires shortly.
“I mean that in the lake, where they were, is outside the ward, and last time I checked, Malfoy couldn’t hold his breath long enough to swim out there.”
“Why can’t I just use a bubble-head charm?” Scorpius asks.
Snape darkens. “Dark magic is attracted to any form of magic. You’d be infected in seconds.”
“Gillyweed?”
“I have none. It's cultivated in the Mediterranean, which is another hub for dark magic, even worse than here. The amount of ancient magic practically swimming in the Mediterranean is baffling.”
Ron huffs, crossing his arms. “Then what do you propose, Severus?”
“Diphylleia.”
Hermione frowns and regards Snape with an odd expression. “But that only grows—”
“I am aware, Granger.”
“Where?” Ron interjects, rising to a stand. “Some of us didn’t pay attention in Herbology.”
“Oh, yes. We are aware.” Snape jeers.
“The Forbidden Forest,” Scorpius answers breathlessly. His stomach drops, and he swivels to Snape, his brows knit together. “But I thought you said it was crawling with the infected people?”
Snape nods easily. “I did.”
Scorpius looks between them, completely out of his depth. He opens and closes his mouth before blurting, “So you all are willing to risk everything?”
“Yes,” Hermione says firmly. Her face is stony with certainty. “I lost most of DA trying to take Voldemort down; I pretty much lost everything. And then you show up with a way to save everyone. After all we’ve been through, after everything that I’ve done, it can’t be for nothing. So I’ll do anything.”
Ron nods, adding: “If we get this right, and we manage to keep you alive, Harry’s alive, and Voldy and the Augurey are dead. It’s worth it.”
Ron pauses for a moment, biting his lip guiltily. “I am sorry, Snape.”
“Sometimes sacrifices must be made,” Snape murmurs gravely. However, after the words escaped him, he suddenly appeared stricken. “I didn’t just quote Dumbledor, did I?”
“Nah.” Hermione smiles slightly. “I’m pretty sure that’s pure Severus Snape.”
~*~
Scorpius rolls the short, jagged knife between his fingers as they creep out of the creaking Shrieking Shack, the hazy sun slowly sinking beneath the horizon, casting the castle in an auburn. Though he can’t see Hermione and Ron, he knows they are beside him, squeezed beneath an invisibility cloak.
Scorpius is attempting to appear nonchalant as he walks to the ward as if he is out for a stroll. At night. He’s sure it's normal here.
As he approaches the tree line, he is suddenly tugged backwards. He stumbles and blinks.
Before him, the translucent blue is almost invisible, except for the slight rippling of magic, like a gently flowing stream. Scorpius reaches a hand out to touch it but drops it to his side, thinking better of it.
With a deep breath, he threw himself forward.
Crossing the ward felt like drinking something cold, the frigid liquid travelling outward through his body. The feeling is fleeting. Once he breaks through the ward, he sprints across the overgrown field, slowing once he is safe within the forest.
Inhaling sharply, Scorpius can almost taste the muggy smell of soil and decaying forestry. He swallows thickly, his heart thumping. Scorpius swivels his head, his gaze darting around frantically. The Forbidden Forest has retained the eerie, dangerous feeling he is used to—like someone is watching him, lurking in the darkness. But here, something was wrong, too. The dark browns, deep greens, and luminescent colouring are traded for dull browns and sickly yellows. Scorpius’ brows come together. It was as though the fantastical magic had been drained.
Hermione and Ron appear beside him, snapping him from his wary thoughts. Hermione turns to him.
“Okay, so a few ground rules. We’re gonna go slowly and quietly. If we come up against anything, you get behind us and stay there, understand?”
Scorpius agrees quickly: “Yup. Yes, I got it.”
Hermione nods, his response appeasing her. She gestures to a dirt path trailing in the direction of where the Triwizard Arena sat twenty years prior. After only a few minutes of walking, he notices something and freezes.
Trailing some of the trees is a web of veins coloured in a gradient of yellows, oranges, and browns. Shelves of mushrooms stippled the veins.
“It’s bone dry. It can’t hurt you.” Ron prods the tree with the hilt of his glittering sword, one he assured Snape was entirely necessary to bring.
“Yup, cooked,” says Ron, offering Scorpius a comforting smile before inclining his head towards Hermione, who hasn't noticed they stopped.
As they walked, the trees became taller and wider, shrouded in dark needles, crawling veins, and small clusters of brackets. The ground beneath their feet grew uneven the deeper they travelled. But after five minutes, they break into the clearing, a grassy patch surrounded by towering pines and oaks.
Scorpius withdraws the Time-Turner from beneath his shirt and removes the chain from around his neck, holding it out for Hermione and Ron. Ron steps forward, but Hermione grabs his shoulder, shaking her head.
“Go alone. Two adults are too noticeable,” she explains.
Scoprius’s stomach drops with anxiety. This is an important task, and knowing him, without help, he could ruin everything. But Scorpius keeps his mouth shut and nods. Taking a steading breath, he presses the side of the Time-Turner. It begins to vibrate and glow before exploding into a storm of movement.
He squeezes his eyes shut. The first task of the Triwizard Tournament, 1995, Scorpius thinks hurriedly.
Everything goes white.
Noise rushes back, and suddenly, he is standing in the bustling arena. Hundreds of heads crowd the stadium, their voices blocking Ludo Bagman’s frankly appalling commentary. Scorpius pushes through people to where he knows his past self would be standing, attempting to sabotage Cedric’s first task. As he shoves through the enthusiastic students, the section he is in breaks into a deafening cheer. Scorpius whips his head around, using his height to peek over the cheering students, though this is made difficult by all the flags and confetti.
From the corner of his eye, he glimpses Hermione's bushy head walking through the crowd, and a few paces to her right is a familiar crown of messy raven hair. Scorpius breaks into a grin.
His eyes flicker back to young Hermione, walking straight towards his past self. Scorpius fumbles for his wand and flings a stinging hex. He past-self jumps, rubbing his arm where he was hit, and looks to his left, just missing Hermione as she strode right past them, unaware of their presence.
No interaction. Scorpius releases a relieved sigh. However, his temporary calm is broken as the Time-Turner starts spinning. Bagman yells something excitedly. Albus raises his wand, preparing to cast his summoning spell. Scorpius anxiously raises his own a second after him, quickly muttering a blocking spell. Albus looks at his wand disconsolately, shaking it once before lowering it sadly. Scorpius’ heart sinks. Albus must think he messed up the spell.
But Scorpius’ attention is snared by the Time-Turner, a storm of frenzied ticking. Scorpius panics, fumbling the chain and barely grasping it as everything goes white.
Scorpius slams onto the ground. A starburst of white pain hits the back of his head, and ringing fills his senses. He blinks the haze from his eyes. Hovering above him are Hermione and Ron’s worried faces. Scorpius picks himself up from the ground. He winces.
“Alright there, mate?” Ron asks hesitantly.
Hermione walks over and gently takes his arm, guiding him forward.
“Shake it off. The faster we do this, the better of a chance you have at surviving.”
The ground is blanketed in a thin fog. While Scorpius is trying to keep his eyes off the ground and onto his surroundings, with every step, he can't help but worry he is stepping on a crawling vein, even as Ron assures him he would be fine if he did step on one.
Before him, Hermione is walking briskly, axe in hand, ready to strike. Ron’s sword is resting on the ball of his shoulder. Scorpius feels ill with the small, jagged blade clenched in his fist. They look so sure of themselves, almost comfortable, with their weapons. But Scorpius is terrified of his own, as if it would slit open his palm or manage to find itself burrowed in his side when he isn't looking. But what scares him the most is the thought of using it.
“We should be close,” Hermione cautions.
After a minute more of walking, Scorpius’s jaw drops in awe. In the distance stood a huge tree, the base as large as his bedroom and shrouded in shrubby bushes, rising as tall as his chest. He stops right before the wall of leaves.
“In here? Is there a clearing inside?” Scorpius asks, his face scrunched up in confusion, when Hermione nods in confirmation. “How do we get in?”
Ron shakes his head. “You are going in. There’s a small opening somewhere. It’s small—no higher than your knees.”
The three of them break off and circle the tree. Scorpius rounds the bend, eyes glued to the bushes. Then he sees it. He releases a shocked cry, almost falling backwards.
Leaning against the thick scrub is a man, crumpled and limp with wide, glassy eyes. His crown is split open, and rivers of blood have dried black across his face. His sweater is dyed crimson and slashed, exposing the gaping wound where his flesh has been ripped open.
Scorpius brought a hand to his open mouth in a silent scream. He has never seen a dead body—one that has been violently killed.
Hermione and Ron came running, weapons raised, before freezing at the sight. Ron walks over, dropping to one knee before the man, inspecting his body. He turns to them.
“It's fresh. Maybe a couple of hours ago.” Ron's voice is quiet.
Scorpius’ face is ashen, and he chokes, “What is he doing in here?”
Ron and Hermione look at each other knowingly.
"Maybe—" Hermione pauses, dragging in a ragged breath. “He was attacked by an animal or something.” She sounds like she is trying to convince herself as much as them.
Ron rises to a stand, giving her a doubtful look. She shakes her head anyway.
“Ron, I don’t hear it.”
“Who can’t you hear?” Scorpius interjects, worriedly fiddling with his shirt. Hermione and Ron both shush him. He swallows and lowers his voice. “Who? Are–are you saying that's what the infected do to you?”
Hermione’s face grows hard, her eyes ablaze. "Ok, from this point forward, we are silent. Not quite. Silent.”
Scorpius' questioning gaze flickers between the two of them. “What–”
“No,” Ron says firmly, his voice barely audible. “No questions. Just do it.”
"I found the opening," says Hermione.
They follow her to the other side of the tree. She points at a small opening in the bush. Scorpius kneels, peering inside. The brush is thick, curving into the shape of a tunnel. He glances up at them before crawling inside.
It is a tight fit. Scorpius' back scrapes the top, and the sharp rocks in the dirt bite the skin at his knees. The pungent smell of wet earth fills his senses. But with a squeeze through the end, he tumbles into the tree's hollowed trunk. Yet he catches himself before he can face-plant into a small patch of flowers.
He can’t help the soft gasp of awe that escapes him. The flowers were like nothing he’d seen before—they were dainty with translucent petals that seemed almost iridescent in the weak sunlight streaming from a small opening in the thick canopy.
Scorpius tries to brush some of the dirt from his hands before pulling the leather bag Snape had given him from his pocket. Carefully, he picks the flowers, pulling them from the root just as Snape had instructed and gently placing them into the bag. When Scorpius finishes, he draws the bag closed and shoves it in his pants.
He crawls back through the tunnel. He stops a metre before the end and slowly inches out before tugging himself free.
Ron is leaning on a tree over to the right. When he notices Scorpius, he pushes off the tree and makes a motion, returning with Hermione in tow.
With the flowers in their possession, they retrace their steps back towards the Shrieking Shack.
Scorpius is pleased with how uneventful their mission has been as they walk silently through the forest. However, their silence is quickly broken by the distant sound of a tree falling, followed by the startled cries of crows. They all jump and turn in the direction of the noise. Nobody moves. But after a moment, Ron beckons them to keep walking.
Their footsteps are slow, precise, and careful. Every step is meticulously placed to prevent the slightest noise. Every groan from the trees or rustling of leaves caused them to hover mid-step, breathless, before continuing.
The forest floor abruptly drops 6 metres, exposing the moss-covered rock before evening back out. A large, creaking pine, tall and skinny, sits on the ledge with dangling roots where some of the soil has eroded. Ron easily slides down and moves forward to survey the forest. Scorpius places his blade between his teeth and starts to crawl down with Hermione by his side, using the roots as support.
Scorpius is 2 metres from the ground when the tree groans. Scorpius and Hermione snap their heads up just as the pine tree splits, the roots coming loose and falling. Scorpius jumps, falling to the side, and rolls, barely missing the trunk as it smashes with a ground-quacking thud. He is momentarily stunned with adrenaline; there is a horrible, erratic thumping in his chest as if a large bird is trapped inside his ribcage, beating itself to death against his sternum. He slowly staggers to a stand, his hip throbbing, and sees Hermione do the same on the other side of the tree, her face tight with pain. Ron clutches her side as she draws to full height.
Scorpius gracelessly hops over the trunk. They regarded each other for a beat when a piercing croak came from somewhere to his right. Ron and Hermione raise their weapons in the direction of the noise. Hermione grabs Scorpius’ shirt firmly and drags him behind her.
His breath catches in his throat, and Scorpius scans the trees, looking for the source. The forest is dark and littered with things that obstruct their view.
Then, a train of clicks followed, echoing off the trees. Scorpius has never heard a worse sound in his life. They all take slow steps backwards, frantically searching for this hidden monster.
A limping figure rounds a tree. An infected. Its face is completely skewed and scarred by the same fungus growing on the trees, but it bears a maw of jagged teeth. It releases another rapid trail of clicks as it hobbles towards them, tweaking as it swivels, no longer facing them, and releasing a loud croak.
The three of them steadily creep backwards towards a moss-shrouded boulder. Yet, Scorpius can’t fathom why they aren’t running away as fast as they can or why the infected monster isn’t attacking them.
When they are hidden behind the rock, Ron turns to him and mouths silently, “They can’t see, but they can hear,” gesturing towards his own eyes and ears.
Scorpius nods fearfully.
The croaking continues as the infected limps closer towards the boulder. Scorpius holds his breath, but his thudding heartbeat is deafening. He hears it screech loudly before trailing off into small clicks.
Scorpius glances at Hermione. Her face is scrunched, and her jaw is clenched tight.
Another horrible squawk. It swivels its head towards them, coming inches from Ron, but suddenly runs past them, twitching as it stops.
A terrified gasp escapes Scorpius. The infected pivots to face them before screaming and lunging at Ron. Hermione and Scorpius jump backwards as Ron impales the monster with his sword and swiftly pulls it from its gut. The monster lunges at him again, and Ron struggles to fight it as it attempts to bite his face.
“Go!” Ron screams.
From their left comes a piercing squawk as another infected person hurtles towards him and Hermione. Hermione grabs his shirt, and they start tearing through the forest, the monster screaming after them.
Hermione pulls him to the left.
Scorpius looks behind him. They may have lost the infected, but they didn’t cease running. Scorpius was gasping. His whole body is alert with fear and his eyes are unable to focus on anything in particular.
Scorpius felt his foot hook in the tangle of roots sprouting from the ground. A sharp, wet pain bursts in his forearm as he smacks the ground. Hermione falls on top of him. They both flip onto their backs, frantically crawling backwards, when an infected appears from behind a tree and shrieks, running towards them.
Hermione jumps to her feet, screaming to hide, and takes off running. Scorpius notices a small hole in one of the trees. He quickly pulls himself through just as the clicking monster passes him in favour of Hermione. The tree is fat and damp, similar to the thousands of others in the forest. From the hole, he notices a shallow cave made from the roots and dirt of an uprooted tree. He army-crawls from the hole, throwing himself into the safety of the small cave.
He brings his knees to his chest, curling in a ball. He is trembling to death, and his sweat swells into fat pearls before sliding down the side of his face. He wills himself not to breathe, not to make a single sound. Slowly, he creeps from his hiding spot, surveying his surroundings.
When Scorpius rises, a hand clamps around his mouth. Instinctually, Scorpius writhes before turning to see Ron above him, a finger pressed to his lips. They freeze looking at each other, Ron still holding him almost in a chokehold with his palm flat against his mouth, until a twig snaps to their left, sparking a series of croaking trills.
Ron drags him to the ground behind a tree, looking around before gesturing his head in the opposite direction. Hesitantly, Scorpius starts crawling after him.
They make it a few metres before Ron steps on a dried vein of fungus trailing from a tree. It cracks loudly. They both turn their heads fearfully as an infected whip in their direction, shrieks and pounces at them. But with a smooth slash, Ron slices the infected's head clean off its spasming body. The monster falls to its feet, its head connected by a few writhing tendrils as dark blood pours from the severed sections.
Scorpius and Ron say nothing as they quietly pant, staring at the dead monster. Scorpius looks at the crumpled corpse, once a wizard like himself. He knows he should feel something. But he feels nothing, barely a twinge of emotion. However, his body is still trembling with fear and adrenaline.
He glances up at Ron, who is regarding him with a stony expression. Scorpius suddenly wonders how many infected Ron has killed before. How many non-infected people?
“You alright?” Ron asks, still panting, his eyes on Scorpius’ arm.
Scorpius looks down.
His arm is slit open from elbow to wrist and slick with blood. The side of his shirt is stained bright red from where his arm must have rubbed it. His breath hitched at the injury. He completely forgot about the searing pain from when he fell earlier with Hermione. He hadn't realised he was bleeding.
Gingerly, Scorpius brushes over it and sighs, relieved, when he realises the cut is shallow. He looks back up at Ron and assures him with a small smile. His answer must have been good enough for Ron because he nods curtly.
Ron turns around, looking for Hermione. In the distance, they hear a blood-curdling croak.
Ron points west, back towards the castle, before breaking off into a run in the direction they last saw Hermione. Despite every inch of his body telling him to go with Ron and find Hermione, Scorpius obeys and breaks into a sprint.