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1979
There was no roundabout way of approaching the subject. Siobhan was going to die.
Holding the sphere, she watched the pale blue smoke swirl in its confinement, the future whispering in her ear. The world around her seemed to disappear, the floor her feet stood upon vanishing. The atmosphere of the hall lowered to a gooseflesh-raising chill. All that mattered was the omniscient glow of the orb, held in the crest of her palm reflecting the prophecy of her and another. A boy.
Time would come to tell what it meant, but it was apparent to her that she would be part of whatever was to come; whether she wanted it to or not.
She had been made a target by Voldemort a few days ago, a photograph of her from an old family vacation on "WANTED" posters all throughout Diagon Alley. Voldemort had heard of the new prophecy, one that whispered the truth of his foretold destiny. A traitor in the Order told Voldemort of the first half of the prophecy; that the boy would be born in late July and a guiding hand would lead both to their timely fate. And he wanted her dead, and when someone was wanted dead by Voldemort, it happened.
She was a Guardian of Time in training, evidently the last knowledgeable person on time travel Voldemort had managed not to murder yet.
Her mentors and friends had been wiped out by Voldemort and his loyal dogs. The Guardians had refused to join him, mostly because they were neutral in the war that went on between both good and evil. Guardians of Time didn't interfere with the events that unfolded, they merely observed. The only time Siobhan remembered a Guardian using a Time Turner was during the second World War. It had nearly cost them the war and the revelation of magic to Muggles. And now she was the last witch who knew how to use a Time Turner. She was only a young apprentice learning the basic trade of time travel. She had no idea how she had gotten wrapped up in Voldemort's own fate, she was a girl from an indistinct family, but it appeared that fate was not on her side.
The other half of the prophecy detailed her own demise, along with a confusing riddle of the boy and Voldemort's own mortality.
The thin chain hung heavy around her neck at the truth that rang incessantly in her ears.
She could still see the sand scattered on the floor, tiny hourglasses broken, blood dripping down the walls of the sector and marble pillars. She could make out the trail of a snake through the wreckage. She didn't know how long she had stood there, mourning the death of all her mentors and family. Her parents had been part of the massacre, leaving her an orphan. All of them had died protecting knowledge and truth.
One thing that Voldemort feared most was time, it was one of his greatest weaknesses. If Voldemort had gotten his hands on a Turner, there was no telling what catastrophe would take place next. So the Guardians destroyed every last one. Voldemort had arrived too late, and in a violent rage, he killed them all.
