A Second Channe Through Time

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Page count: 14

Potter Manor — Saturday 24th April 1982

Three days later, chaos and joy in equal measure consumed the manor. Molly and Narcissa had practically taken over the estate, barking orders, crying happy tears, and muttering darkly about "reckless boys" who dared to get engaged the night before a Final Battle. Luckily, most of the wedding had been prepared in advance — because if it hadn't, the pair would have murdered James and Sirius on the spot and resurrected them just to scold them again.

James, Sirius, and Hermione wisely left the wedding preparations in their capable (and terrifyingly efficient) hands. Their own focus was elsewhere — on the plan they'd spent months refining. The plan that would either save Harry... or cost everything.

A spring evening settled over the manor grounds, the air warm but the wind crisp as the sun dipped lower. The Marauders gathered by the lake, a blanket spread across the grass. Harry sat in the centre, happily gnawing on the wing of his stuffed Dragon, blissfully oblivious to the weight of the world balanced on his tiny shoulders.

"You can do this," James murmured, squeezing Hermione's hand. His eyes didn't leave Harry — soft, terrified, full of hope. "I've got faith in you."

Hermione swallowed hard. "What if I fail?" The fear cracked through her voice like splintering glass.

"You won't," Sirius said immediately, fiercely. "Your bond with him — your love — it's stronger than anything Voldemort ever created."

Remus stepped forward, the calmest of them all. "Mia... you will save him. I know you will." Something in his voice — a quiet conviction, older than his years — steadied her trembling hands.

"Let's get this over with," she whispered.

She released James's hand and knelt beside Harry, handing him a small bottle of milk laced with a Pain Potion. Harry giggled, drank, and within minutes, his eyelids drooped. Hermione gathered him into her arms, stroking the soft curls from his forehead.

Taking a steadying breath, the ritual began.

Hermione lifted Harry's sun pendant and clasped it with her own moon pendant. James stepped forward, unfolding the Invisibility Cloak with reverence, draping it gently over them both. Remus placed the Resurrection Stone into Harry's palm with a solemn nod. Sirius pressed her wand — the Elder Wand — into her other hand.

Once they backed beyond the perimeter lines she had drawn, Hermione studied Harry's peaceful face for a final, trembling moment. Then she raised her head to the sky and summoned her magic.

"I need you," she whispered, voice breaking. "Please... please help me. Don't let him die. Not again. I can't fail him again."

She closed her eyes. The air trembled around her.

With shaking fingers, she withdrew the small vial of Basilisk venom. She pulled the stopper free. No hesitation — she couldn't afford it. She tipped the vial.

Several drops struck Harry's scar.

Black smoke burst upward in a violent plume. The Horcrux's scream tore through the air — shrill, echoing, inhuman.

Everyone flinched. James stumbled back, covering his ears. Sirius cursed, hands pressed hard against his skull. Remus gritted his teeth, eyes shut tight.

Hermione held Harry tighter.

She never moved. Never flinched. Tears streamed freely, dripping from her chin and wetting the toddler's hair. She whispered the binding vows — half spell, half prayer — calling desperately to the Moon Goddess and Sun God.