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The Thirteenth Month

Summary:

While working on castle reparations after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry and Hermione are accidentally pulled into a time road and transported to a distant realm. Stranded on a strange planet where their magic no longer works, they must help their new guardians solve the time riddle and find their way home. But what if the solution means only one of them can be sent back? Slash, Harry/OMC. Het, Hermione/OMC.

Notes:

Note: Knowledge of the EverQuest game is not needed to follow this story.

A/N: This story has had a long road to get here. I originally plotted it out in 2012 with the help of an author friend and intended to start working on it right away. However, I just couldn’t find a voice for it, so it languished on my computer until 2016, when I dusted it off and fiddled with it some more. But as before, it just wasn’t speaking to me. Frustrated, I put it away and half forgot about it. Then in August of 2019, while I was in the middle of writing another fic *ahem*, this story rammed into me headlong. It was demanding and insistent and instantly filled my head with characters and conversations and scenes and story must-haves and why-aren’t-you-writing-these-down-yets. It was utterly thrilling, if not a bit perplexing. I mean, why now, after all these years? However, not being one to question a muse, I let it flow, and here it is. I hope you enjoy this little corner of my mind. Note: Some of the details and lore from the game have been changed to suit my story. The inconsistencies are minor and I invoke artistic license. ;) (And yes, I will eventually post that other fic, too!)

Gratitude: Thanks much to Tamzen for helping me plot the initial story structure, to JaseFinley for filling in the gaps with his extensive knowledge of game lore (as well as indulging me in many interesting and thought-provoking discussions), and to SnapesFavorite for being the loveliest beta, cheerleader and friend.

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text

The sounds of discord raged above him in the castle. He knew this day would come. He also knew these items, the artifacts he’d been sworn to protect, mustn’t be discovered. They were to remain a secret at all costs. If needs must, they’d said, die with the knowledge – it was that important. Better to let their exploits be lost to the ravages of time than to fall into the wrong hands.

What he had not counted on was being the last of this line, for his children were magically inert. He had spent a lifetime acting as steward and guardian for this secret, as had his father before him. But what of it now? He had no viable successor.

Holding fast to a plain, leather-bound journal, he swept the stray dust from its cover. Everything, including his studies and research, was recorded within. He’d written it in their language, of course – a concession, so that it would remain unreadable to all but their kin. For despite their edict, he had no intention of letting his life’s work be lost forever.

Above him, dust trickled from the ceiling as faint tremors shook the walls. He must hurry.

A flick of his wand settled the objects into a hollowed-out section of the castle wall, far below ground, in the depths of its dungeons. Unbeknownst to him, the objects would sit idle for 122 years, sealed behind brick like a makeshift mausoleum. For in some ways it was.

The sounds of running footsteps drew ever closer, perhaps only a floor above him now.

He quickly surveyed the room and set the final details to rights: a fresh layer of dust across the stone floor returned it to its undisturbed state, just as it had been for centuries before him. The walls, mercifully, had long-ago dried, so that only the vestiges of calcified moss would hint that water had ever dared to venture this deep.

Satisfied, he exited and resealed the entrance to the room, but with mortar and not magic. The pulse of spell energy would only serve to alert someone to the fact that this door hid something. And a door could only hide what did not proclaim to exist.

 

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