Chapter 294: Time-Turners
A few days had passed.
Phineas's(future) injuries had mostly healed, and life had returned to a semblance of normalcy. During this time, he—Present Phineas—learned of Lisa's death. He went to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries to visit the unconscious Sirius and view Lisa's scarred, lifeless body. With a heavy heart, he gathered his forces, regrouped at Lisa's manor, and launched a large-scale hunt against the Death Eaters.
Eventually, he set his sights on the Parkinson manor.
"It's time for me to act," muttered Future Phineas.
That evening, Future Phineas gazed at the white smoke rising into the twilight sky—a consequence of his own covert actions. Down below, Ministry of magic Aurors scrambled to modify the memories of Muggles who had witnessed the incident. Drawing his coat around him, he stepped out of 12 Grimmauld Place.
He strolled to the street near the British Ministry of Magic and came upon the familiar, battered telephone booth.
But Future Phineas didn't use this entrance. His mission was illegal—he planned to infiltrate the Department of Mysteries and steal a Time-Turner. Entering through official channels would raise too many questions.
With a quick glance at the hidden Ministry behind the booth, Future Phineas narrowed his eyes and vanished with a sharp crack—Apparition.
Not all places were like Hogwarts with strict anti-Apparition enchantments. These enchantments are not so easy to use.
The Aurors of the Ministry of Magic have mastered a specialized form of magic that allows them to control Apparition within a limited timeframe. However, this ability does not grant them unrestricted access to ministry—they cannot remain within the ministry indefinitely. As a result, the British Ministry of Magic has chosen not to prohibit Apparition entirely when entering the school. In fact, some Ministry employees use this very magic to commute to and from work.
In an instant, Phineas vanished—only to reappear at his destination: the Department of Mysteries, the most enigmatic branch of the Ministry of Magic.
The corridor leading to it was unnervingly bare, its end marked by a single door, pitch-black and unadorned. To step through was to enter a realm of secrets known only to the Unspeakables who worked within. Even Ministry officials tasked with administering the death penalty were permitted no further than the antechamber—the infamous room with the Veil.
No one could say what lay beyond, or what awaited Phineas there.
Yet without hesitation, he crossed the threshold.
The room beyond was vast and circular, steeped in darkness. The ceiling, the floor, the walls—all black, as if carved from shadow itself. Dozens of identical doors lined the walls, each one seamless, handleless, and unmarked. There was no way to discern where they led… or what might emerge from them.
Phineas turned and shut the door quietly behind him. The hall was unusually vacant—thanks again to his prior diversions. Shadows from the candlelight danced across the walls, lending the room a haunting stillness.
He scanned the twelve doors. Somewhere beyond one of them was the room where the Time-Turners were stored. But which?
Suddenly, a rumble echoed through the chamber. The circular wall began to spin, and the blue flames blurred into streaks of light. When the rotation ceased, the doors were shuffled—rendering his orientation useless.
He cursed under his breath. Now he couldn't even tell which door he'd come through. He suddenly regretted closing the door.
Phineas drew a steadying breath. Lingering wasn't an option—his task wasn't to search for an exit, but to locate the room housing the Time-Turners.
Gripping his wand tighter, he approached one of the featureless black doors. His left hand pressed against its surface, the metal chilling his palm. If danger waited on the other side, he'd strike first.
With a sharp push, the door swung open.
No ambush. No creeping horror. Only light—blinding after the consuming darkness of the circular room.
Blinding was an exaggeration, of course. The chamber beyond was dim by normal standards, but compared to the abyssal black of the hall, the glow from the gilded ceiling lamps felt almost harsh. The space was cavernous and near-empty, save for a few scattered tables and, at its center, an enormous glass tank.
It was large enough to drown in.
Dark green liquid filled it, thick as potion, and suspended within floated pearlescent shapes—sleek, ghostly, undulating with a lazy, hypnotic grace.
Are these brains?
He shuddered.
What were they studying here?
Shaking off the thought, Phineas exited and marked the door with a rare spell: Flashing Mark—a temporary glowing symbol for navigation.
He moved to another door and entered. This room was darker, cavernous, and ringed with descending stone benches—like a courtroom. At its center stood a crumbling stone arch draped with tattered black curtains.
The Veil.
Phineas descended cautiously, an odd compulsion drawing him closer.
He stared at the fluttering curtains. No wind. Yet they moved.
Death walked through here, he thought, recalling Nicolas's words.
He froze.
He felt as though something—or someone—stood just beyond the veil, watching him.
Sweat formed on his brow.
He backed away. An overwhelming urge to pass through the veil had nearly overtaken him.
I can't stay here.
Then he heard it.
Whispers.
"...does not belong... this world... traveler... God…"
Phineas could vaguely make out fragments of whispering, though he had no idea what they meant.
Even so, he knew he couldn't stay any longer. He might keep his sanity once or twice, but over time, he couldn't be sure he wouldn't be tempted to step through that door.
Nicolas never mentioned this.
He left swiftly, marking the door behind him.
As soon as he stepped back into the hall, the walls rotated again.
Phineas checked a new door. Locked—completely. Not even his wand helped. He marked it differently and moved on.
The next door opened into brilliance. The ticking of clocks echoed everywhere. Grandfather clocks, pocket watches, and sand timers covered every surface.
This is it. The Time Room.
As he wandered between tables, he passed a tall bell-jar filled with glittering air currents. Inside, hummingbird-like creatures hatched from gem-like eggs, flew, and then reverted—again and again.
He continued. Different side-rooms were marked with symbols: crystal balls for prophecies, hourglasses for time.
He found the hourglass door and entered.
The Time-Turner's Chamber.
Phineas pushed open the door and stepped inside. The room contained numerous clocks, but unlike those outside, these glowed with a golden radiance.
At the center stood an enormous hourglass. Having used a Time-Turner before, Phineas immediately recognized its function - this was a massive Time-Turner, its twin glass bulbs towering over him, the golden sand within shimmering with latent power.
Yet Phineas couldn't comprehend the purpose of such an enormous Time-Turner. Judging by its massive scale and the immense magical energy radiating from it, this device could—if functioning as intended—potentially transport someone back a thousand years or more.
Throughout the room, glass-fronted cabinets lined the walls. Behind their shimmering panes rested dozens of miniature hourglass pendants, each glowing with golden light—standard-issue Time-Turners kept safely in storage.
From the moment this dangerously flawed magical invention first appeared, countless wizards acquired Time-Turners for personal use. At the slightest hint of danger, they would activate the devices to rewrite the past.
The consequences ravaged the wizarding world. For decades, history itself became unstable - a chaotic tapestry of shifting events where cause and effect unraveled. The very fabric of time grew frayed from constant meddling.
Eventually, the Council of Elders intervened with drastic measures. They confiscated every existing Time-Turner and systematically destroyed all knowledge of their creation. Only two records survived: one archived by the Council itself as a grim reminder, and another secured within the Department of Mysteries for controlled study of temporal magic.
Phineas approached a cabinet. As expected, it wouldn't open. Of course the Department protected these relics.
He raised his wand.
"Reducto."
As the magical power concentrated in the snakewood wand grew stronger, Phineas fired the spell.
The glass-door cabinet was his target.
It shattered instantly, and as the Time-Turners inside began to fall, Phineas levitation spell—cast with his left hand—caught them before they could hit the ground and break.
Phineas guided one of the Time-Turners into his pocket while the others remained suspended in the air.
Just as he had anticipated, the next moment, the shattered cabinet repaired itself, and the floating Time-Turners returned to their original positions. Only the one now tucked in Phineas pocket proved that what had just happened wasn't an illusion.