Anyway, he had things to consider. Like the accelerated timeline. It was clear to him now that the Ministry was planning to close in on Hogwarts by this time next year, and likely the Order, too. No more dissent would be possible. It was only logical that this would be the next step.

And what about me?

Tee had sealed his own fate when he chose to cross wands with his older self, of course, and a sinking sense of despair and regret had been eating away at him ever since. Surely this hadn't been the right choice, surely it was another lapse in judgment — because it was surely going to end in his death. In the end, he would be just another Horcrux between the Order and Voldemort, another trinket to be destroyed.

And yet there was the weight of Dumbledore's letter in his pocket. Tee had read the pages over and over until they curled at the edges and felt soft as cloth in his hands. He knew each word by heart, charging him with what had once been Dumbledore's role; maintaining the balance of power and keeping Hogwarts autonomous, whether it involved fending off the Ministry or Death Eaters. But Tee had never been one for duty. It was convincing himself to start doing his 'duty' to Salazar Slytherin that had gotten him into this mess to begin with. Why repeat the idiocy?

Dumbledore would regard him from over the top of his half-moon spectacles, with a reproachful twinkle in his eyes, and say 'Tom, it is because it is the right thing to do.' Even now, his tongue burned with acid at the thought. Despite himself, his hand went into his other pocket, brushing the rounded surface of the Resurrection Stone. Not since that disastrous rendez-vous with his mother had he dared turn it three times and coax a wraith from beyond the Veil.

I'm not scared, he thought. I just don't need to speak with him. He certainly made himself clear in his letter. I know what he wants me to do.

"Do I want to do it?" he said, aloud, to no one in particular, as he watched Lucius finally leave the premises. No trouble, then. His shoulders sagged with relief. Do I want to die?

Tee scoffed. After all this, to die for what? Just because his own experiences as an unfortunate side effect of Horcrux creation had dissuaded him from trying it again, didn't mean he was keen to throw himself before the sword. Sometimes he was certain that Dumbledore got him mixed up with someone else — Severus Snape, Lily Evans — one of his more pliant little prodigies from the Muggle world.

“Well,” said Harry, his eyes already half-lidded and body growing limp. “See you on the other side.”

It seems time has just run out. Voldemort finally got his way and killed Albus Dumbledore, the last thing standing in his path.

T.M. Riddle and the new Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, try to shore up Hogwarts' defences, in a last-ditch attempt to stave off the darkness. But with a scattered Order and the Ministry cracking down on dissent, that's a tall order.

Harry Potter's not confident he'll make it to eighteen. For now, he'll try to lie low, piece together the information he's been left about the remaining Horcruxes, and fight back any way he can. Dumbledore's Army is rising.

The future speaks to Ruby Potter, and voices from beyond the Veil have joined in. If she can figure out how the hand needs to be played, she just might find the move that wins the game.

Death, as always, will take his inexorable course. Remember to live, because you have to die.

“You’ve been in here for hours; is everything alright?”

Ruby startled, the quill falling from her grip to land in her lap, splattering black ink. But it was only Sirius, regarding her with a look of concern before he leaned down to pick up the nearest of her crumpled letters.

“Yes, it’s fine,” said Ruby reflexively, but Sirius raised an eyebrow, looking most unconvinced, until she admitted: “I’m trying to write this letter to Flamel…”

“Ah, I see.” Sirius flattened out the letter, peered at it, and frowned. “I hear he’s running low on elixir, it won’t be long now.” Then, he gave her a knowing look. “Is it about Lily— Lily’s notes?”

“Yes,” said Ruby. She scooped up the rest of the attempted letters and shook them into the bin, before pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment. “You don’t happen to…”

“I admit I never paid much attention in Alchemy,” said Sirius. He made as if to pick up the notebook, then thought better of it. “Maybe Snape…” He trailed off, saying under his breath: “Funny that, isn’t it?”

He cleared his throat, shaking his head as if to rid himself of whatever unpleasant thought had just crossed his mind. “I think Delacour would be some help, wouldn’t she?”

Ruby regarded her ink-stained fingers. “She suggested I write to him.”

“I suppose it’s quite esoteric.”

Sirius swallowed hard, and Ruby got an idea of where his mind was; an image that had been projected into her mind when they’d met at Godric’s Hollow, of a Sirius from nearly sixteen years ago, stumbling out of her parents’ house with Harry clutched to his chest as lightning rent the sky. Right now, the sight of their cold, unmoving bodies must be burning behind his eyes.

“Well, you can’t spend all day in this stuffy library,” said Sirius, in a forcibly cheery tone. Then, he offered his arm, like the very picture of a Victorian gentleman in his dark velvet robes. “Shall we?”

“I didn’t know you played,” said Tee.

“Very badly,” Ruby admitted. She removed her gloved fingers from the ivory keys and folded them in her lap, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What are you doing here?”

He said nothing, but crossed the room and lifted her half-finished letter from the lid of the piano before unfolding it and scanning the contents. Ruby looked at him all the while, observing his saturnine face like she was studying an oil painting, but his expression betrayed no emotion.

“He’s still alive, then… down to his last drops of elixir. I hear it’s a horrible death… becoming old again.” Tee folded the letter. “I met him once, you know.”

“Right.” She flipped the sheet music over and began to clunk out the notes to Beethoven’s Ode to Joy to drown out whatever drivel he would say next, until he waved his hand and stilled the hammers.

Irritated, she slammed the cover down loudly enough to make Hephaestus yelp in disapproval, swivelling around to glare. “What?”