Around 11.30am. Death Chamber.

Everyone heard something different in this room, personal to their own perception of death. Virgil used to hear a scream, cut off by silence. Today he heard a single applause that pattered into nothing. Interesting.

He had such bravado, the last time[1] he stepped foot in the Death Chamber for this purpose. Now even his internal voice was quiet and serious.

       ”Boy of the hour!” cried out Unspeakable Tan from the stone dais below, where the ancient border between Life and Death remain unchanged. ”We’re ready.”

No need to ask if he was ready. The blond descended, barefoot in periwinkle pyjamas. There were other Unspeakables loitering about on the stone benches encircling today’s spectacle - some had come to help, others asked to watch out of professional curiosity.

Yavin and Francis waited in the sunken pit alongside Tan, while Carmen de Rothschild walked lightly just behind Virgil.

The tattered black curtain of the archway fluttered, beckoned.

1.	22nd Dec 2011 - Two Innocent Stars

”How’s the, ah, the mark?” Yavin, in his surprisingliy plain black robes, asked once Virgil reached the archway and settled down cross-legged on the floor mat.

His protege undid his top two pajama buttons and pull the material aside to reveal a clock tattoo on his fair chest, approximately where the heart thrummed closest. A difficult amalgamation of Time and Blood magic. Etched in ink of reddish gold, the clock did not feature ordered numbers. Instead it bore a seemingly random sequence.

Every time the lone hand ticked on, the final digit lessened. Yavin knew that this was the number of heartbeats Virgil had left in this life. Quite something, resisting temptation to do that math.

"My compliments to the artist," he smiled faintly at Francis Pepper instead.

It was a masterpiece of sorts, really.

Francis Pepper, unspeakable, chronomancer, father of three, had kissed Gabrielle goodbye that morning with a smile. Pretending to his wife that nothing at all was on his mind. In truth he’d had more than a few sleepless nights over this plan since it had begun.[1] Virgil was a year or so older than Ambrose. Actually he was 506 days, or 1 year, 4 months, 21 days. Francis had done the maths along with the arithmancy as Filius Pepper had described.

The senior Peppers had moved to the south of France to benefit from the warmer weather in their retirement since the nineties. His father’s eyesight had worsened for the work which he finished in the late eighties, but his mind was still sharp as a tack. A lifetime and family history of making timeturners had meant that the Pepper men had accumulated several generations of knowledge which they passed down with great care. Whereas Francis had suggested Virgil seek knowledge in the Ministry’s library, he had sought it in the records and research of his father and grandfather and those before them.

There they had found it, the eventual solution which had become part of the plan. A form of blood magic, not radically dissimilar to that which kept his cousin-by-marriage alive. Though, not anything that St Mungo’s would condone and give as treatment. It had no great healing purpose, other than to highlight to the recipient which they would perish by counting the beats of a heart. Through blood magic he had literally tattooed Virgil with an hourglass of his own lifespan upon his chest. It had been stress enough to mark another without considering the purpose and the outcome. He had a few more grey hairs for the whole process, and he hoped Virgil would not come to seriously resent it.

This sort of magic fell outside of his ‘ordinary’ work and very much into the distinctly ‘unspeakable’ elements. To the point he had not divulged this to Theta, his apprentice and niece. She would learn in years to come as he shared the knowledge with her, but not right now. She was safe in the workshop, untroubled by this experiment. Untroubled, yes, but missing out on the discovery. Because there was still a buzz of excitement beneath the dreadful worry that he was about to watch Virgil Carstairs walk through the veil and not return.

“My compliments to the artist.” Their Head Unspeakable addressed him, having seen Virgil’s chest. Morgenthau was a gifted legilimens, but Francis was sure he didn’t need to be to read the worry lines on his forehead. He’d not even noted the lack of gaudy jumper.

“Thank you, Sir,” he responded somewhat automatically. “I only hope it works. Never been tested beyond there,” he nodded in the direction of the veil. The tattered black curtain gently fluttered and swayed as if were a curtain on the window to nowhere. Nowhere with a quiet hubbub of voices, and if he were tempted to focus carefully, Claire was amongst them.

“Run me through the plan again.” Francis instructed Virgil, keeping his back to the veil. Not that the two of them didn’t know it inside out. But he very much wanted to see Virgil step back out of that veil as he’d proved he could before.

1.	Sept 7th In its Own Time

He had felt his heart beating all of the night before last, sitting at dinner with his parents. They had not asked why he wanted to join them - Edgar and Angela never asked.

Tha-thump tha-thump tha-thump...

And as he buttoned up his top, Virgil still felt it racing. He was committed to this experiment for reasons he couldn't explain to himself, all starting with the moment he saw his own image past the veil. So strong was his commitment that he easily complied to the tattoo and to the other stipulations of today's events.

Instead of sending his mind through, he would be walking in bodily. It was the only way to guarantee Pepper's mark would follow through. Unspeakable Tan had assured them that if V's soul hadn't been lost the last time, there was no reason his body would this time. Because what was a body to Death?

It wasn't his expertise anyway, he was barely a full Unspeakable. He just had to trust that everyone else here knew what they were doing.

"The plan," he repeated, all at once calm and restless as a waiting cat. "Right. After I have been tethered and prepared, I'm going to enter past the veil. If everything happens the way it did before, I'll find myself at the crossroad between this world and the next. The theatre."

Virgil glanced away from Francis' serious face - as serious as he felt - to look at Yavin, who was working with Tan to unravel the enchanted red yarn that would tether him to this side of the arch. Just a string, it looked. They would use his own wand as its anchor.

He was going to feel naked, walking into all this without wand in hand. "My future self shouldn't need prompting, he will show me his mark. I don't know how long I will have, my questions will be brief and succinct."

What if his future self didn't...? What if it was all a hallucination? Or worse. What if there were things past the veil they never imagined, creatures of deception and illusion?

"At the first sign of trouble," V moved on from his fears, grimacing. "I'll tug the tether twice. Pull me out. If all goes smoothly, I do what I did the last time and force my way back out."

The unspoken third option was that he would sever the yarn if he couldn't come back. Sever it to let them know.

One man sat on the lowest tier of the chamber, as close to the goings-on as he could be without intruding. He was cloaked in robes of pale lilac and seemed to be completely at his ease. The Chamber of Death held no fear for the man - he served a far more powerful force. After all, death may be final, but love was eternal.

In his few short years as an Unspeakable in the Chamber of Love, Pentameter Puddifoot had learned that every other aspect of what was studied on Level 9 was impacted by love. Love could overwhelm thought, it was undiminished by time, it could conquer death. It was unconditional and there was nothing more powerful.

Still, sending someone beyond the Veil was dangerous. Sending someone as new to the title as Virgil through was doubly so. The situation was unusual enough, and interesting enough, to pull Tam from the Ever-Locked Room. Disaster or triumph either one would make for an incredibly romantic story. Either Virgil would succeed in his quest and be lauded and adored or he would never return and the mournful cries to follow would composethe story of his life in love.

He took a nice long look at the mark on Virgil's chest and suppressed a shudder. Tam was familiar with blood magic and seeing the tattoo made him uncomfortable in a way the room they were in never had. Tam didn't understand time magic very well at all, too much maths, but the symbol spoke of things better left unknown. Then again, the purpose of all Level 9 was to push into the unknown - in that regard what Unspeakable Carstairs was attempting was truly admirable.

Tam pulled a crystal flask from somewhere within his voluminous robes and took a small sip. The mixture of Amortentia and wine helped to steady his nerves, but he had prepared the mixture weak that morning - he couldn't afford to have his inhibitions impaired on such an important day. He could have done without, but even a couple of drops of the love potion helped to keep the room's voices at bay.

He was there as an observer, not to interfere, and there didn't seem to be anything to add in any case. The experiment wouldn't have progressed to this stage had every contingency and outcome not been explored in great detail, so he sat and watched silently as Yavin and Unspeakable Tan unspooled the tether and Virgil redid the buttons on his top.

There had been a few, vague briefings on the today's activities - though the details hadn't moved beyond the bare minimum of what Sasha needed to know.  They were embarking on a risky, touchy and potentially landmark-making investigation.  There would be a lot of observers.  He, like many of the Unspeakables, would primarily be an observer - and the unofficial scribe and one of the note-taker for the event. 

He wasn't to do anything else, unless he was given specific and explicit instructions. 

Sitting on one of the front-most stone benches, next to a wizard in lilac robes, quill set to official, Department of Mysteries classified-charmed parchment as Virgil summarized the plan at Mr. Pepper's request. 

Exploration of The Theatre: Planned Protocol

• Subject A, Unspeakable Carstairs, to enter veil with physical and tangible tether connecting him to mortal plane.
• Barring unforeseen complications, Subject A to contact and converse with Subject B, his alternate iteration
• When primary objective complete - or unforeseen circumstances of an unacceptable degree arises - Subject A to signal to mortal plane for extraction.  Emergency escape considered last resort

Enacted Protocol

• 15 meters of acromantula-silk rope affixed to Subject A.  Unspeakables Morgenthau and Tam in control of the end of the rope intended to remain in the mortal plane

Sasha reread the notes and sighed before looking up at the scene before the archway, doing his best to ignore the shouts of rage, anger and blame infiltrating his head from the rippling darkness. 

Francis nodded, agreeing with the summary. It was reassuring to hear it spoken aloud, and if he’d been more of a performer, to be iterated aloud for their audience. There were people perched on the benches, hopefully with just intellectual enthusiasm rather than spectacle. Muggles did this when they launched rockets to space, and they blew up sometimes, and most tragically, sometimes with muggles inside. Francis was content with meddling with time rather than space.

“Always work on the notion you have no time,” he reminded the younger unspeakable, as he had already, two, three, maybe four times since they had hatched the plan. When dealing with time loops and jumps it was always pertinent to use the time you had wisely. It could be snatched away from you before you had a chance. It was why Francis never forgot to tell his wife he loved them, and his children (much to the boys’ squirming).

The rest of the team had done this before, the yarn and the veil. Only Francis knew now that had been for a different reason. Those pentrals, souls seeking a host. This had to work, and if it did, the possibilities! That beyond the veil all times existed, so feasibly his late self would already be there. He would have to write new chapters for the Pepper family accumulated knowledge.

“Any questions?” He asked, ensuring he gave Virgil another chance to ask. Francis glanced up at the others, checking their expressions too. The tightness at the top of his stomach didn’t want to budge.

What, he wondered, was he going to tell the boy's father?

Yavin helped Daphne Tan unravel the yarn and arrange it in a spiral on the floor, while Virgil went through the steps with Francis once more.

He was struggling not to think about what could go wrong and how he would have to deal with those consequences. It was perhaps a little funny that he was the least keen on this experiment, considering the favouritism often shown for the young Unspeakable.

       “Any questions?” Pepper asked, and the old wizard looked over to meet his gaze with a troubled one of his own.

But Virgil shook his head readily, having paid close attention to the other man's advice.

        "I'm ready," he answered and got up to place his wand in the centre of the red spiral - it stood on its handle, upright, silver lime. An uncomplicated instrument for his protege's complicated magic. Well-bonded, it would serve as the ideal anchor.

"This goes without saying," Yavin secured the other end of the string to Virgil's wrist, "but, ah, don't do anything stupid."

The young Unspeakable huffed a humourless laugh, nodded once. He stepped away and Yavin numbly watched him approach the arch with the same soft tread that once crossed Stardust floorboards. To a thespian, he supposed their little audience must seem like background noise.

But it was still something of a shock when Virgil turned around at the threshold and grinned carelessly at him. Then, deliberately, he fell backwards - past the veil with nothing left of him in the chamber except a red string leading into blackness.

Loop #0

He landed in the Death Chamber as if flung violently onto his back, cold hard floor knocking the breath out of him.

Even before opening his eyes, he felt a powerful burst of magic reverberating in the air around the archway. It sent out an intense shockwave - clouds of shimmering gold and suffocating black.

Everything happened quickly, in less time it took to form a thought. Virgil tried to sit up just as his wand - stood upright a step away - exploded. Splinters of lime wood, charged with intense magic, ricocheted in every direction.

       ”Morgenthau!” he heard Rothschild scream.
”Healer!” someone else called out.

Virgil got to his feet, breathless, and looked up to see that a shard of wand wood had lanced itself right into Yavin’s neck. The old wizard’s eyes rolled back.

Francis held his breath as Virgil stepped beyond the veil and clicked his stopwatch. He seemed to vanish into nothing, and had the red string not trailed him, Pepper would have been convinced Virgil would not return or had even gone anywhere. It continued to unspool on the floor but had no sooner done so then it stopped. Then suddenly, he was back, sprawled onto the floor before the archway where he’d begun in his pyjamas. The sudden rejection - as it appeared to those in the chamber - made him fumble the watch.

The blast of magical energy that then resulted shook the floor beneath their feet, and set the nearest unspeakables to Francis off balance. He felt his brown leather shoes slide on the stone floor as if had been iced over, as if state and matter were cycling. The wand explosion tore his attention from Virgil to shielding his face and Rothschild screamed before Pepper could make sense of what was going on. Their senior’s neck lanced by what had been Virgil’s wand. There were cries for a healer, and in the split second, Francis knew he couldn’t do anything to help there, but could at least get a handle on Virgil and what had happened.

“Virgil,” he spoke urgently, as bodies hustled forward to attend. “Virgil, what happened? You were gone mere seconds.”

The man sitting next to Pentameter was young, perhaps around the age of Unspeakable Carstairs and had a wintery surname, like Frost or Sleet - to be honest, Tam wasn't really sure what the bloke's name was. It wasn't that Tam was unfriendly, far from it, he just spent most of his time in an area restricted from even other Unspeakables and he hadn't yet had the opportunity to work directly with the other man before.

There were two distinct types of Unspeakable: those with an organized mind and those without. Many, like the Peppers, relied on structure; they used arithmancy, logic, and set parameters to enact their studies. People like Tam, on the other hand, relied on instinct and emotion. Neither was better than the other, they simply approached things in different ways. Unspeakable Frost or whatever his name was, seemed to be of the first group if his fastidious note-taking was any indication.

Having already grown bored from watching the preparations, he took a peek at what his coworker had written. It seemed that Pentameter wasn't the only one who had trouble remembering names. "I'm Tam," he said in a polite whisper, "That is Tan," he pointed his head toward the Unspeakable of Death.

"Or I'm Unspeakable Puddifoot and that's Unspeakable Tan. Or I'm Tam and that's Ne-Ne," Then he smiled and looked back to the action just as Virgil fell into the unknown.

It was an unnecessarily dramatic way to cross planes and Tam was enthralled. Even in the face of certain peril, a bit of theatrics was always appreciated.

Then, after a thousand lifetimes and no time at all, Virgil was back. His reentry to life was far more grandiose than his exit had been. First came the body, then the expulsion of great magics, then the shattering of the wand.

There was no time to prepare or protect, so Pentameter braced himself as best he could and held his breath until the roiling clouds of black and gold passed.

An unrestrained scream followed as Tam's eyes took in the scene. He rushed forward, intent on helping but unsure of how or even where to begin. The burst of magic was outside Tam's ability to help, and Francis Pepper had Virgil well in hand.

Yavin, however, had a shard of wood impaling his throat and seemed to be in the most immediate danger. "Do not touch the splinter with your skin, there could be residue," he said to those nearest their Department Head. What sort of residue Tam couldn't be sure, but safety was more important now than ever.

A quick touch to the wrist, then, "His pulse is strong, that's a good sign," Tam had some basic skill with healing, but nothing spectacular. Certainly not enough skill to try and fix Morgenthau himself. "He needs to be taken to Mungo's - did we send someone to fetch the healer?"

Vitals taken, Tam moved on and pulled his wand - he couldn't heal Yavin, but he needed to at least stop the bleeding. The wood could have easily punctured his esophagus, their Department Head could drown in his own blood before the Healer even arrived.

He felt sick - the destruction of his wand cutting as deep into him as the sight of Yavin suddenly surrounded by concerned Unspeakables.

Virgil had to tear his eyes away, prompted by Francis Pepper's questions. For a moment he felt terribly young and clueless; like he didn't know what was happening or he didn't want to know. Like nothing would ever be good again. Only for a moment, though.

"Seconds?" he repeated, all the while trying to slow his breathing.

 It had seemed ages before he reached the theatre past the veil - falling through all that nothing.

"I m-met him, I met me," Virgil gathered his wits about him. "He said... shit. Futurists. Do you know that word? He said these Futurists are going to try something, today, at the Gala on Diagon. He said we have to go and see what happens."

But that wasn't all he said! V gestured, holding his hand up and staring at his feet to focus. "Before the Gala. Whatever happens, it's going to change everything between us and muggles..." his gaze flicked back up to Francis. "The statute?"

It had worked.

Merlin!!

Amongst the commotion an inner Ravenclaw curled his fist and let out a gleeful yes! But the outer parent didn’t stop studying Virgil.

“Futurists. Do you know that word?” Virgil asked, seeming dazed. Francis felt his heart skip a beat. “… are going to try something today…” Virgil was trying to make heads of whatever had happened to him and Francis bit his tongue to stop himself interrupting in his haste. “… it’s going to change everything between us and muggles… the statute?”

“Merlin,” Francis uttered aloud this time, “I’ve heard of them, yes.” He confirmed, looking away from Virgil, allowing his mind to work on the information instead. “Tapendra Trishna mentioned them to me - they’d approached him.” Tapendra had once taught Astronomy at Hogwarts, so Francis felt safe to assume Virgil knew of him. Pepper and Trishna had become friends over interests in amalgamating magic and science. Trishna worked with Cambridge University, as did Sasha who had been taking notes at the start of this, and that kind of personality seemed to be kindred with Futurists.

“They are pro muggle in terms of revealing our magic and working with them, that was the gist. If they’re going to do something with the Statute…” he felt cold, “it could be like the Leaky Cauldron incident all over again.” The commotion behind them had circled in on Yavin.

“And the other you was definitely future you?”

Still somewhat muddled from his journey, V tried hard to absorb what Pepper was saying as voices rose and fell around them - around Yavin. He was vaguely aware of more Unspeakables slipping into the Death Chamber to tend to their Head.

Pro-muggle? The disaste-- no, Calamity is what Other Virgil called it. The Calamity was the doing of muggle loving idealists?? Trishna and Sasha were probably the only ones he knew with such an ideology, and they hardly seemed the type to go around setting off explosions. His impression of such wixes was that they were ultimately harmless.

"What? Oh, yes," he touched hand to chest, swallowing. "Except... except he had a low number, Francis. I'm talking about... about hours or minutes left."

That was right. His older self didn't have many heartbeats left in him at all. "My clock wasn't moving over there but his, it kind of was. Slowly. It moved twice, five or so beats at a time. The second time, I was forced out."

Virgil spoke faster now, though calmer. What happened was unexpected but it wasn't over and he needed to keep his head on.

"Something forced me out, some.... I don't know," he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "But the Other Me, he knew we didn't have much time. I think I have to go back again after we do what he says."

That was the only thing that made sense, or Other Virgil would have surely tried to say more.

It had worked! Really worked! All his misgivings about using blood magic on Virgil evaporated. Unfortunately it was replaced by the fact Department healers were now attempting to whisk away Yavin and future!Virgil was approaching death at a rapid pace.

“Hours?” Francis latched onto the possibility, “How old did he look?” The Virgil in front of him was not scheduled to pass on to the next plane for decades if not longer.

“Back?” Francis shook his head not out of disagreement but out of trying to catch up with what was happening. “But if something’s going to happen then we can’t go back unless you want to time-turn yourself in and I think that is highly unadvisable.” It was bad enough they were meddling with life and death without then throwing in a casual paradox. This was already a bloody great paradox!