Harry watched in morose silence as Ron, Hermione, and a few of the other Gryffindors climbed the great staircase after dinner, heading back to their dormitory in the Tower. He would have given anything if only he could be going with them.

For a moment he imagined settling down in the common room, where a cozy fire would be blazing in the grate to help keep away the winter chill that never could be entirely banished from the castle. He imagined spending the evening studying and completing homework assignments, the peaceful silence broken by the occasional comments and laughter of his dorm mates. He imagined sitting at a table with Ron and Hermione, sharing notes and the bag of sweets that Ron always saved from the Hogsmeade weekends.

At that moment, it seemed like Heaven.

But he couldn’t join his friends. Snape had scheduled an Occlumency lesson for that evening and then he had another one of those dreadful detentions with Umbridge. Harry didn’t even know what he’d done to earn this one. He’d been careful not to contradict her idiotic lies anymore. He pretty much kept his mouth shut during Defense, at least he tried to. It was hard, but he’d finally accepted that there was simply no point in arguing with Toad Lady. She wasn’t going to change her mind and all it did was cause him trouble.

Anyway, a lot of the students and other professors believed him now, even if they did have to keep quiet about it. In spite of his gloomy mood, Harry smiled slightly as he thought of how he and his friends had formed the DA. It really gave him a feeling of accomplishment, that he was doing something to fight against Voldemort, even if it was in a rather limited way.

As they crossed the landing and turned the corner, Ron and Hermione looked down at Harry. Ron grimaced sympathetically and Hermione gave him an encouraging smile and a little wave. Harry sighed and turned towards another staircase that led down to the dungeons, his smile fading. At least most of the Slytherins were still at dinner so he shouldn’t run into any of them on the way.

Sure enough, the route to Snape’s office was silent and lonely. Harry trudged along, head down, until he came to Snape’s door. He hesitated a second before squaring his shoulders, lifting his chin, and resolutely knocking.

“Enter,” a stern voice called. Harry opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him.

Snape was waiting, standing beside his desk. His office was always dimly lit and his dark clothes and lank, greasy hair blended into the gloom. His pale face was a sharp contrast. “You’re late, Potter.”

Harry bristled inside, both at Snape’s cool scornful tone and at the injustice of his rebuke. He wasn’t late. Snape had said to come after dinner and Harry had. Most of the other students were still in the Great Hall, finishing dessert. So there was no way he was late. But arguing with Snape was like arguing with Umbridge, pointless and sure to bring trouble down on his own head.

Still, he just couldn’t bring himself to apologize when he knew he had done nothing wrong. So he simply stood there in silence, trying to hide his resentment.

“Arrogant as always, just like your father,” The Potions Master sneered in soft derision.

Harry couldn’t keep quiet at that. “Don’t talk about my father! He was a great man!”

Snape’s black eyes flashed. “I could tell you things about your father…” he began, his voice sounding more dangerous in its quiet menace than if he had shouted. But then he stopped abruptly and clenched his jaw.

Snape and Harry stared at each other for a long moment before the professor finally spoke again.

“Take out your wand,” he said in a voice as cold as ice.

For a second Harry seriously considered turning around and leaving. But Snape would be sure to give him detention for the next one hundred years if he did and even worse, it would disappoint Dumbledore. The headmaster was still being aloof and distant for the most part, which hurt more than Harry wanted to admit, but he had pulled Harry aside just the other day to remind him of how important Occlumency was and that Harry needed to give it his best effort. Part of Harry was angry with Dumbledore and tempted to refuse to try at all, but a bigger part of him wanted to please the headmaster and learn to occlude. Perhaps if he could, then Dumbledore would like him again.

So Harry pulled his wand from his sleeve and tried to brace himself against Snape’s mental attack.

“Legilimens!”

And then Snape was in his mind and Harry’s memories were flashing by…burning breakfast at Privet Drive and Aunt Petunia throwing the frying pan at him; six-year-old Harry had just barely avoided it…a red-faced Uncle Vernon shouting and shaking him fiercely by the shoulders…Dudley and his friends chasing a ten-year-old Harry through the park and cornering him in a tree for hours…Umbridge smiling sweetly as bloody lines scratched deep through the skin of Harry’s hand.

Harry tried desperately to push Snape out of his mind, and for a moment he thought perhaps he was succeeding, but then he realized it was something else entirely. Images kept whirling through his head, but they weren’t his memories any longer, and they didn’t seem to be Snape’s either.

***

Two witches and two wizards in colourful robes stood on the lawn of Hogwarts, looking up at the castle.

“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” one of the witches said softly. She was short and slightly plump. Pretty in a kind, wholesome way with a sweet round face, blue eyes, and thick golden hair piled high on her head in a braided coronet.

Her eyes filled with tears as she stared at the castle. “We truly did it!”

“Why do you speak in the past tense, Helga? Our work has only begun,” the other witch spoke. She was taller and breathtakingly beautiful, with long dark hair that fell in loose curls to her waist. Her face was a lovely smooth oval dominated by large grey eyes.

One of the wizards… a tall fellow with sparkling green eyes and bright chestnut hair…laughed heartily, slipped his arm about her waist and danced her around in a circle. “Of course, Rowena. We all know that. But we’ve been dreaming of this since we were children ourselves. And finally we have our school. A place where we can guide and protect the next generation. Just think…every youngster can have a chance to develop their talents. We can guide and protect them, teach and nurture them. This is definitely a moment to celebrate!”

He let go of Rowena and flicked his wand. Four glasses of sparkling amber liquid appeared. The man and the two witches both reached up to claim one, leaving one glass still hovering in the hair.

The three looked to their companion, the only wizard who had remained silent so far. He was the tallest, with a solemn saturnine face, thick black hair and a beard, and watchful dark eyes.

“Come on, Sal,” the bright-haired wizard said with a teasing smile. “You’re not still sulking, are you?”

“Sulking? No, but I am concerned,” Salazar Slytherin replied quietly. “I am not convinced that admitting Muggle-borns is a good idea. Indeed, it seems like a very poor idea to me, fraught with peril and difficulty.”

“Always the pessimist, aren’t you, Salazar?” the other wizard said lightly.

“And you, Godric, always insist on sticking your head in the sand as if you were an ostrich,” Salazar retorted. “You willingly blind yourself to the dangers of interacting with the Muggle world.”

“I don’t blind myself. I simply believe that your fears are greatly exaggerated. Muggles pose little threat to a true wizard,” Godric told him.

Salazar shook his head. “I think that’s debatable, but rather than get into all that again, have you actually considered… any of you… how difficult it is going to be attempting to teach Muggle-born students along with our own? Most of them won’t know even the most rudimentary skills.”

Helga walked over to him and patted his arm. “Now, Sal, I’ve already offered to teach the remedial courses and help the Muggle-borns adjust.”

“That’s my point, Helga. A talented witch with your power and skill stuck teaching the Muggle-borns their letters and numbers and how to scratch their names with a quill, things our own children learned years ago. It’s a great waste of your abilities, and at a time when we desperately need you to be instructing according to the magical curriculum. It’s not as if we have an overabundance of professors, you know,” Salazar said, shaking his head.

“We’ve already discussed this, Sal,” Helga replied firmly. “We’ll manage somehow.”

“Yes, I know. Just remember, the Muggle-borns are here on a trial basis only. At the end of the year we re-evaluate and decide if that policy is still sensible,” Salazar insisted.

“Agreed. Now will you please take your glass so we can drink our champagne?” Rowena asked dryly as Godric pulled a face at Salazar and rolled his eyes.

Salazar sighed, but plucked his glass from the air. The four Founders held their glasses together, clinking them softly in a toast.

“To Hogwarts! Long may it stand!” Godric called.

The images faded to darkness, but instead of coming back to awareness in Snape’s office, Harry felt a sudden violent jerk and then everything was spinning. He felt himself falling through the air, as if from a great height and reached out wildly. His fingers closed around something warm and solid, wrapped in cloth, and Harry gripped it desperately.

He landed with a force that drove all the air from his lungs. There was sharp pain as the back of his head struck the ground and for a terrible moment Harry was sure he was dying as he faded in and out of darkness and struggled desperately to draw breath. He pulled frantically at whatever it was he’d been holding onto.

“Let go of my arm, Potter.” Beneath Snape’s anger, there was a thread of concern.

And all of a sudden, the pain in Harry’s head vanished and he managed to take a breath. He became aware that Snape was holding his wand over him, flourishing it quickly in a complicated series of moves.

“Are you all right, Potter?” Snape asked, and his tone was less hostile than Harry had heard before, at least when the professor was addressing him.

It was the civil tone or the hint of worry that Harry had noted before, but he found himself speaking more politely than usual, too. “Yes, sir.” He paused, but felt compelled to add, “Thank you.”

Snape ignored him though, which Harry found vaguely irritating. How hard would it have been to say ‘You’re welcome’, after all? But Snape was looking around, holding his wand at the ready.

Harry sat up and drew his own wand as terrifying memories of the end of the Triwizard Tournament raced through his mind…the cup portkeying Cedric and himself away to an unknown location, being surrounded by Voldemort and Death Eaters, Cedric’s lifeless body lying on the ground.

Could it have somehow happened again?

But they were still at Hogwarts. Harry felt a great rush of relief as he twisted his head and saw the castle at the other end of the sweeping lawn…but wait.

It wasn’t evening anymore. The sun shone high in a bright sky. It wasn’t winter. The blanket of snow had vanished and the grass was green. Flowers were blooming and in the silence, Harry could hear the trilling of distant songbirds. It was warm, too, warm enough for summer. The trees of the Forbidden Forest weren’t nearly so tall or thick as they ought to be, and Hagrid’s cottage at the edge of the Forest had vanished.

The Whomping Willow was gone, too, but there were several tall trees in different places on the grounds. Harry looked about with wide disbelieving eyes.

“What…?” He began in a whisper.

Beside him Snape stiffened and was on his feet in one fluid motion. “On your feet, Potter. Wand ready.”

Harry scrambled up and turned to see two witches hurrying towards them from the castle. He recognized them from that odd scene that had played through his mind earlier and he had to wonder if Snape had seen it too.

Could they really be Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff?

The two witches drew closer and Helga turned to her companion excitedly, “Oh, Rowena! It worked!”

The lovely dark-haired witch simply arched an elegant eyebrow (Could she possibly one of Snape’s ancestors?, Harry wondered) and commented in a faintly superior tone, “Of course it worked, Helga.”

The blonde witch…Helga Hufflepuff?...gave Harry and Snape a kind smile, “Are you quite all right, then? We saw you appear from the castle windows and it did look like a rough landing. We do apologize and if you need medical attention, I’m a fair hand at healing, even Salazar says so.”

Harry wasn’t sure how to respond and for once in his life, Snape seemed to be rather at a loss as well. The professor was quiet for a long moment, his eyes shifting from one woman to the other, steadily keeping his wand ready.

Finally he said, “Am I in the midst of some irrational delusion, or are you truly suggesting that the boy and I have traveled a thousand years through time and that you are the Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw who helped to establish Hogwarts?”

The blonde witch gave Snape an indulgent look. “Yes, dear. We are indeed.”

While Harry gaped at her…he couldn’t imagine anyone brave or crazy enough to call Snape ‘dear’…Rowena added calmly, “Actually, its nine hundred and sixty-four years, not an even thousand. This is the Year of Our Lord 1032.”

“So good to know.” Though he still looked shocked, Snape had apparently recovered some of his snarkiness.

Helga laughed delightedly and, to Harry’s further amazement, she walked over and patted Snape on the arm. “Oh, I like you. Rowena, doesn’t he remind you of Sal?”

“That’s not terribly surprising. He is a direct descendant,” Rowena remarked.

Harry blinked and then glanced over at Snape, to see if he were surprised by the revelation or if he’d already known, but it was impossible to tell. The professor still looked uncertain and wary, but that could have easily just been because they’d apparently been transported back a thousand years in time.

No, not a thousand years, only nine hundred and sixty-four, Harry thought with a sudden, slightly hysterical desire to laugh.

“You have an advantage over us. You know our names but we don’t know yours,” Rowena continued.

“But yet you know that I am a descendent of Salazar Slytherin?” Severus countered.

“The spell that called you here was to bring a descendent of Sal’s and a descendent of Godric’s. Based on your behavior, I surmised that you come from Salazar,” Rowena said.

She looked over at Harry and nodded to him. “while you have Gryffindor blood.”

She turned to let her gaze encompass the both of them again. “But no, we do not know your names or any details of your lives.”

“I’m Harry, Harry Potter.” Harry told her.

“Severus Snape,” the Potions Master said in a grudging tone.

“I’m sure you must have questions. Why don’t we go inside and have some tea? Rowena and I will do our best to explain everything,” Helga offered.

Harry almost agreed immediately, but Snape seemed to read his mind. Without taking his eyes off the pair of witches, or lowering his wand, he reached with his free hand and gave Harry’s arm a light swat. Harry glared, but remained silent and let the professor make the decision.

Snape considered for a long time before finally giving a curt nod. “Very well.”

So they crossed the lawn and entered Hogwarts. Harry looked about eagerly once they were inside. The basic structure of the castle was unchanged and thanks either to magic or to the diligence of its caretakers, it was as bright and clean in the future as it was now in its early years.

But there were some small differences. There were only a few portraits hanging on the walls; there were no suits of armor; rugs, tapestries, and pieces of furniture were set in different places; and when they passed the door to the Great Hall, Harry peeked in and noticed that instead of the four long House tables, there were only two smaller round tables at the far end.

Rowena and Helga led them down a corridor and to the circular steps that led up to the headmaster’s domain. There were no gargoyle guardians barring the entrance now, though. They simply walked up the stairs and into the circular office.

Harry was accustomed to seeing the room furnished to Dumbledore’s taste and it was here that the differences were most jarring to him. Where the headmaster’s great mahogany desk usually rested, there was a U-shaped table instead. Of course there was no red and gold phoenix standing on a bronze stand and no spindly-legged tables with silver contraptions. The office actually looked rather bare, though one wall was lined with bookshelves and an exquisitely beautiful tapestry showing the Four Founders standing before the castle hung on another.

Helga waved her wand at the straight-backed wooden chairs around the table and they changed into comfortable stuffed armchairs instead.

“Normally we keep the wooden chairs for when we have students or visitors up here…it looks more professional. Intimidating, Salazar says. But they are hard and stiff so when it’s just us we change them. You don’t mind, do you? These really are much more comfortable. Oh, go ahead and sit down, of course.”

Harry started to sit, then paused with a sidelong glance at Snape. Perhaps it would be wiser to follow his professor’s lead. Snape remained standing until Helga and Rowena had seated themselves before cautiously perching on the edge of a chair. Harry hesitated, but the only other free chair was right beside Snape. Reluctantly he slid into it.

He followed Snape’s example and kept his wand in his hand, and when cups of tea and a platter of pastries appeared on the table before them, he and Snape did not eat or drink until the witches had.

It wasn’t good manners, Harry knew, but safety did have to be a top priority. Helga and Rowena must have understood because they promptly sipped their tea and nibbled on the tarts before giving their guests a knowing look.

“You can go ahead and eat. It’s quite all right.” Helga smiled.

Rowena gave them an approving look. “I think Salazar would be proud of you, if he were here. And that brings us to our explanations, I suppose.”

She folded her hands on the table before them and began. “There are four of us…Helga, Salazar, Godric Gryffindor, and myself…who have been close friends for many years, since childhood. We are among the fortunate in the wizarding world. Our parents were able to send us abroad to school so that we could learn to use our powers to our greatest ability. But until last year, there was no school in Britain for young wizards and witches to attend and many families either could not afford the tuition and fees the foreign schools charged or they did not wish to send their children to live so far away.”

“The result is that magical education in Britain has been…well, haphazard at best. Most families teach their children on their own, and in some cases it works out well, but often the children grow up with huge gaps in their education. For example, if the parents own an apothecary, their children will be skilled in Herbology and Potion-making, but will likely know next to nothing about Transfiguration. An Arithmancer’s child will be very knowledgeable about Ancient Runes, but will be unable to cast a simple Shield Charm.”

“So for many years now, my friends and I dreamed of starting our own school here, where youngsters could study all the basic magical subjects and receive a well-rounded education.” Rowena smiled and gestured about them. “Last year we finally realized our dream and founded Hogwarts.”

“We’ve just finished our first year,” Helga added. “And it’s been so rewarding. We have students from eleven to seventeen…well, actually those are our guidelines but I know full-well that Geordie and Fiona McClean are only ten and I believe we have some that are older than seventeen. Even some of the local villagers come up sometimes to learn a bit. But that’s all right. We’ve always said that we were willing to teach anyone who wanted to learn.”

“Well, not quite anyone,” Rowena remarked.

She and Helga exchanged knowing looks.

“Before opening Hogwarts, we had a rather strong disagreement over whether or not to admit Muggle-borns,” Rowena told them.

Snape only nodded. Harry had to struggle to repress a scowl. A thousand years and the wizarding world hadn’t made much progress in its prejudice against Muggles. But of course he knew that. The Sorting Hat had told them all that the troubles went back to the days of the Founders. Stupid Salazar Slytherin. Harry already had a strong dislike for the man, especially if he were anything like Snape.

“Helga and Godric felt that they should be included. Salazar was adamantly opposed, and while I did not feel as strongly as he did and for different reasons, I did have some reservations as well.”

Rowena sighed. “I’m sure things are very different in your time than they are now, but in these days most Muggles are woefully ignorant.” She seemed to notice Harry’s indignant expression and shook her head at him. “I mean ‘ignorant’ in its true definition of ‘uninformed’ and ‘uneducated.’ Most wizards are literate and we teach our children to read and write at an early age. The majority of Muggles are illiterate peasants. Pure-blooded wizarding children come to us prepared to read texts and write essays. The Muggle-borns come not knowing the alphabet or how to print their names.”

“But isn’t that even more reason to teach them?” Harry exclaimed. “They need an education even more than the purebloods.”

“Be silent, Potter!” Snape snapped.

But Rowena only smiled and shook her head again. “That is a valid point, and one that Helga and Godric successfully argued, that we have a moral obligation to teach those who are willing to learn and help them to achieve their potential and have a fuller, richer life. However, my reservations were based on the fact that our objective in founding Hogwarts was to provide a quality education in the magical courses, not to teach beginning literacy skills. I was concerned that by admitting Muggle-borns we would have to devote so much time just bringing them up to the basic standards that we would be forced to neglect our other students.”

“There are other concerns as well,” she continued. “Most Muggles are deathly afraid of magic and believe that wizards are devil’s spawn. While we have very limited contact with the Muggle world and can usually escape unharmed from persecution, there have been some cases where a wizard or witch was caught unaware.”

She looked directly at Harry. “More often, it is young children who cannot control their magic who are found. There are wizarding families who have had to flee for their lives from a panicked crowd of Muggles coming to burn them alive. There have been cases of small children being hurt or even killed. It hasn’t happened often, but even one occurence is too many.”

There was a silence and Harry noted that both Rowena and Helga looked particularly sorrowful.

Rowena took a deep breath. “I’m not saying that prejudice against Muggles or Muggle-borns is right, but that perhaps it is more complex than you might think. Those who believe that we should keep to ourselves and have no contact with Muggles often have a reason for feeling that way.”

“So you think it’s wrong to let the Muggle-borns come to Hogwarts?” Harry asked her softly.

“No, I did not say that. I had reservations, but Helga and Godric were persuasive and I eventually came to agree with them. Salazar was more resistant, but he finally agreed to a compromise. We would admit a small number of Muggle-borns on a trial basis and at the end of the year, we would evaluate the situation and decide whether or not to continue the practice.”

“So, a few weeks ago, we completed our first year and while it was very fulfilling, I must admit that it was also more exhausting and difficult than any of us had realized it would be,” Helga took up the tale. “But we were encouraged. The children had learned so much and they are such eager and willing students that it was all worthwhile. We all agreed to continue the practice of admitting Muggle-borns and then…”

She broke off and tears came to her eyes. “One of our Muggle-borns went home to her family and even though we had cautioned the children against using magic away from school, especially the Muggle-borns, for some reason she performed a simple charm for her brothers and sisters. But some other Muggles witnessed it and went into a frenzy, believing her to be possessed. There was a mob and she was killed.”

“Well, of course we were all devastated and that tragedy sparked Sal’s arguments again. He said that Muggles were treacherous fools and we were better off without them. Even more, that by admitting Muggle-borns and teaching them to use their powers, we were placing them in danger, that they were better off never knowing about our world, too.”

Helga sighed and looked at them sadly. “I don’t know what to think, I have to admit. All the children had made such progress, especially the Muggle-borns, and they were so excited and happy. All year I’ve believed that we were right, that we were doing a good thing, opening up new possibilities to them. But I can’t deny that poor little Moira would still be alive if we hadn’t brought her here.”

“You were right,” Harry said softly. “You are doing a good thing teaching them.”

“I hope so,” Helga said quietly.

Snape cleared his throat. “I still don’t understand how Potter and I came to be here.”

“Of course,” Rowena sighed. “Helga and I were mostly sad and confused after little Moira’s death, but Godric and Salazar were angry. Unfortunately, when Sal began arguing against the Muggle-borns again, they turned their anger against one another. They were the best of friends, but it ended in a duel and with Salazar leaving and swearing that he would never return to Hogwarts. Godric stormed off in a fit of anger too, and Helga and I were so confused and distraught. Even with all four of us, we were barely managing to run the school. There are precious few other wizards and witches capable of teaching. We have a few guest instructors, but the four of us are the only full-time staff members.”

“Helga and I were afraid we would have to close the school, but then one of our part-time professors, and a good friend of ours, came to us and told us about a vision she had had,” Rowena continued. “She is one of the few true Seers and many of her visions have already come true. She told us that far into the future there was a Gryffindor and a Slytherin who could bring the Four Founders into harmony again and save Hogwarts. Fortunately for us, she also knew a spell that could touch your minds and bring you here from the future. She and her husband are geniuses. They were my mentors and they spell-creators.”

A sudden knock on the closed door interrupted Rowena’s speech. She smiled. “There she is now. Come in, Sarah.”

The door opened and a tall, slender woman came in. She had frizzy hair and hazel eyes that were greatly magnified by her spectacles. Harry’s jaw dropped and if he had happened to glance over at Snape, he would have noticed that even the Potions Master looked startled.

Helga beckoned to the woman. “My dears, this is Sarah Trelawney-Dumbledore, our professor of Divination.”

Sarah Trelawney-Dumbledore glided over to the table, smiling and seating herself at Helga's invitation. The blonde witch introduced Harry and Snape and Sarah nodded to them.

"Hello, then, and welcome. I'm sure you're feeling a bit shell-shocked and no wonder, of course. But we do need your help and I hope you'll find it in your hearts to come to our aid. Oh, thank you, Rowena," she added as Rowena poured her a cup of tea and handed her a plate with a pastry.

After watching Sarah for a few minutes, Harry could see some striking differences between this Trelawney Seer and the scatter-brained professor he had known in the future. While Sibyll Trelawney favoured gauzy spangled clothes and often spoke in a faraway misty voice (except on the rare occasions when she actually had a true vision), Sarah was dressed in a simple blue gown without adornments and seemed much more brisk and clear-minded.

Snape spoke with a touch of asperity in his voice. "So you're telling us that you have called Potter and myself nearly a thousand years through time because your Divination professor"-his lips curled over the words-"dreamed that we might somehow mend the rift between Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor? And how, pray tell, do you believe we're going to do that?"

"Well, we thought perhaps you could speak with them," Helga began.

"And what are we to say?" Snape demanded.

"The right words will come to you," Sarah said calmly.

Snape closed his eyes for a minute and Harry thought he looked as if he were silently counting to ten. Finally he opened his eyes and asked, "And if we refuse or if we try and fail? Will you allow us to return to our own time or do you intend to keep us here?"

"Of course we will send you back to your own time," Rowena replied. "You're not our prisoners."

"But we do ask for your help," Helga said softly. "Won't you please at least meet with Sal and Godric before you go? It could mean everything."

Harry couldn't help but want to reassure her; she looked at them so pleadingly, but he had to admit that he did feel rather out of his depth and that perhaps it might be better to let Snape make the decision.

The Potions Master was silent for a long time. He looked so cross and glowered so that Harry was sure he would refuse and he was surprised when Snape finally gave a curt nod. "Very well. How do you propose we go about it?"

"We have a portkey that will take you to Sal's house...well, not actually to his house. Salazar is paranoid about unwanted guests and has all kinds of wards around his property, but the portkey will transport you close by," Rowena said.

"Well, suppose you fetch the portkey and we'll be off," Snape stood from the table, pushing his untouched plate of food away.

"Wouldn't you like to rest a while first?" Helga offered.

"The sooner we finish this fool's mission, the sooner we can return to our own time," Snape answered shortly.

Sarah Trelawney-Dumbledore held out a small leather bag. "This pouch is the portkey. Inside is a magical compass that will lead you directly to Salazar Slytherin's home. Once you've spoken to him, come back here and we'll go to visit Godric."

"And then you will return Potter and myself to our own time," Snape said firmly.

The witches nodded. "Of course."

For the first time, Snape looked over at Harry. "I suppose we should ask your opinion of the situation," he grudgingly admitted.

Harry hesitated, but finally nodded. "I'm willing to help."

Sarah laid the leather bag on the table and waved her wand over it. It glowed with a soft blue light which faded after a few seconds. "The portkey is activated now."

"Right then. Potter, touch it on the count of three," Snape ordered. "One, two, three."

Harry and Snape reached for the bag and then there was the great lurch as if an invisible hook were yanking them through space and everything swirled together.

***

They landed in a small clearing surrounded by tall trees. Harry's feet slammed into the ground with such force that he fell to his knees. Snape scowled down at him.

"Merlin, Potter, do you always land like an ungainly elephant?"

Harry glared but bit back a sharp retort that would have only caused trouble as he climbed to his feet.

Snape rummaged through the bag and pulled out a small silver instrument. He studied it for a moment, then scowled some more. He turned the compass over in his hand as if looking for something on the back and then waved his wand over it. Then, in a rare loss of temper, he flung it to the ground and began to swear in a low furious voice.

Harry watched him uncertainly and a bit nervously. It wasn't like Snape to lose control and Harry decided it might be best for him to just stay quiet for the time being. After a few minutes Snape fell silent. He glared at the compass and then around at the trees, finally settling his gaze on Harry.

Harry tensed, fully expecting the weight of Snape's fury to fall on him, but instead the professor spoke in a terse, but restrained tone. "The compass is not working. Its needle is spinning wildly in circles rather than pointing us in a particular direction. Either it was somehow broken by the portkey travel or those idiot witches didn't set it right to begin with."

"Should we go back to Hogwarts?" Harry asked tentatively. "Can we even...?" His voice trailed off at the fearful thought of being stuck somewhere in an unknown place a thousand years in the past with Snape for his only companion.

Snape waved his hand dismissively. "I can apparate us back to the school, or at least to a point close by, since I don't know whether the anti-Apparition wards have been set up in this time. But I am not sure that that is the wisest course of action."

He paused before saying more slowly. "There is another possibility, Potter. There is a chance that we are pawns in some scheme we do not yet understand, and I am not sure that our hostesses are completely trust-worthy."

"You think they've set us up?" Harry asked him.

"I do not know," Snape answered grimly. "But in any case, I need to think the matter over and I do not want to simply sit here like bait in a trap. Let's move, Potter, and keep your wand at the ready."

Harry nodded, drew his wand, and silently slipped after Snape as the professor cautiously led the way out of the clearing and into the forest beyond.

For the rest of the afternoon they stole through the forest, speaking little and walking as softly as possible, trying to leave no trace of their passage. Though he tried not to dwell on it, Harry couldn't help but think of all the dangerous creatures that he knew lived in the Forbidden Forest and while he thought they were probably some distance from Hogwarts, there was no telling what kinds of creatures might live in this place and time.

Not to mention that there could be other wizards who might try to harm them.

Every time a twig snapped or a breeze rustled the leaves, Harry and Snape froze and looked sharply about, but other than a few squirrels and a songbird they saw no other sign of life.

As the sun was setting Snape came to a halt. "We'll camp here tonight."

They were in a space...not really big enough to be considered a clearing...between several sturdy trees. The ground was covered with ferns and moss and Harry supposed it was as good a place as any, though he couldn't help but think longingly of his bed at Hogwarts. But then Snape flourished his wand and transfigured a couple of twigs into two plushy sleeping bags with pillows.

Harry was so delighted he almost forgot he was speaking to Snape. "Oh, that's brilliant, sir!"

Snape sneered at him. "Haven't you learned anything in five years of Transfiguration class, Potter? If it were up to you, I suppose we'd be lying on the hard ground and eating acorns."

Harry glared at him. Why did the man always have to be so hateful? What had Harry ever done to him? But at least Snape had transfigured a sleeping bag for him. He sank down on it with a weary sigh.

Snape gave him a contemptuous glance as he stalked about, twirling his wand in a complex series of motions and muttering incantations under his breath. It was almost a quarter of an hour later when the professor came to sit on his own sleeping bag.

Harry really didn't want to ask, but his curiousity got the better of him. "What were you doing, sir?"

Snape gave him a disdainful look. "Concealment and protection charms, Potter. I would prefer not to be attacked in my sleep."

"Oh."

He sat quietly while Snape conjured cups of water and a platter of meat pies. The Potions Master immediately began eating, but Harry hesitated to reach for one until Snape snapped. "Well? Are you waiting for an invitation, Potter? Or this meal too simple for you?"

It would be too embarrassing to admit that he had been uncertain about whether he was supposed to eat, too, so Harry just mumbled, "No, sir. It looks delicious. Thank you."

Snape looked at him suspiciously, as if he thought Harry's meekness were some trick, but he didn't make any further comments. When they had polished off the meat pies and drained their cups of water, Snape vanished the leftover utensils and lay down without a word, turning his back to Harry.

With a small sigh, Harry crawled into his own sleeping bag. It was early here, but he'd already had a full day at Hogwarts...his Hogwarts in his own time...and they'd been walking for the past several hours too. He was exhausted and, he had to admit, a little bit scared. Well, more than a little bit, actually.

He looked over at Snape. The professor's back was rigid and unyielding; his lank lay across his pillow. But Harry had to admit to himself that he was glad Snape was there after all. Snape could be a real git and a petty bully, but he was exceptionally clever and very talented. Harry thought that if anyone could get them through this and safely back to their own time, it would be Snape.

Exhaustion overcame him and he fell into a sound sleep.

He was young…just a little boy…cowering in a corner of a small cramped bedroom, listening to the loud angry voices of his parents. They were fighting about money this time. Sometimes it was his father’s drinking or unemployment or the neighbors gossiping about his mother’s odd clothing or about magic or about anything at all, really. They never needed much of a reason. He only hoped they wouldn’t remember him. He was always an easy target for their fury…

He was a bit older, though still young. He was at the center of a crowd of children in the school playground, jeering and making fun. He wished he had a wand, that he was old enough to do magic. Then he would make them pay…all of them. But he wasn’t. He lifted his chin and yelled back defiantly, even though he knew it only made things worse. A bigger boy threw a rock and it grazed his cheek, leaving a bruise, though he scarcely noticed compared to the other litany of bruises and cuts inflicted both at home and here at his primary school. A teacher shouted and hurried over to intervene, though her lips tightened when she saw the crowd’s victim. She scowled at him even as she shooed the other children away. He wasn’t surprised; teachers never liked him. He was sullen and angry, oddly-dressed, always a loner. He never studied or did his homework. When was he supposed to do that? He spent his evenings doing chores or staying away from home. He ducked his head and went to sit on a bench at the edge of the playground. He spent the rest of the time sitting with his head down, ignoring the happy chatter and laughter of his classmates. He was never invited to play with them. Who would want to be friends with a freak like him? Well, he didn’t care, anyway. He didn’t need them. He didn’t need anyone.

His father, in a towering rage with his face twisted with hate, raised the belt again and again. His back was agony, criss-crossed with fiery welts. He bit down hard on his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, and hung on the sides of the table with white-knuckled intensity. But he would not cry. He never cried. And when his father finally flung the belt to the kitchen floor and staggered out, leaving his shirt in tatters and his back a bloody mess, his mother came to the doorway and met his eyes impassively. “You bring it on yourself, Severus.”

Harry woke with a jerk, his breath catching in his throat. He sat up and looked around wildly, completely disoriented for a moment as he realized that he was freed from his nightmares, but neither was he in the familiar dormitory in Gryffindor Tower.

As he stared at the darkened forest, Harry realized that he had hoped, somewhere in the back of his mind, that the past few hours had been another crazy dream. But no, he was awake…he pinched his arm just to be sure…and it was real.

He was lying in a plush sleeping bag in a forest in the middle of the night, presumably a thousand years in the past. No, he reminded himself, only nine hundred and sixty-four. And Severus Snape lay sleeping just a few feet away.

Severus…

Harry stared at the professor’s silhouetted form. What had those nightmares been? Could he somehow have glimpsed Snape’s childhood memories? But how? Could Occlumency have something to do with it?

Harry didn’t know and he certainly couldn’t ask Snape so he supposed he’d never know. He sighed and shook his head to clear it. He was tired, more so than ever, and he ought to try to get back to sleep. He lay back down and closed his eyes, but when he’d fallen asleep once more, he fell back into nightmares.

This time he dreamed of Voldemort, but a Voldemort who seemed kindly and wise at first, promising him safety and acceptance, respect, even love…someone who cared for him, after all this time.

But then Voldemort changed. He was a monster instead of the caring father-figure. He delighted in hurting, maiming, destroying. Even his most loyal followers weren’t safe. There was no family, only suspicion and cruelties and pain. Death Eater meetings were only rallies to torment and kill innocent victims.

And then the images were truly horrible.

Harry’s eyes flew open. He was breathing as hard as if he’d been running all night instead of sleeping. He was dimly aware that the sky was grey now and the sun was rising. A new day was beginning. But he was too shaken by his dreams to really notice.

What in the world? Why was he being plagued with visions of Snape’s life…for he felt sure that that was what they were. Wasn’t his own life bad enough without borrowing someone else’s nightmares? But even as he thought it, Harry knew that as much as he’d suffered, Snape’s life had been even worse.

He glanced over at the professor with unaccustomed sympathy. As he watched, Snape stirred and slowly sat up. He glanced over at Harry and their eyes met. For once Snape’s gaze held no contempt or hostility. Instead the professor’s black eyes seemed uncertain, puzzled, and perhaps even a tiny bit sympathetic.

But surely Harry was just imagining that.

Snape abruptly looked away and climbed out of his sleeping bag. He pointed his wand at himself and at once his clothes were straight and his hair was neat. Without looking at Harry, he asked, “Would you care for a refreshing charm, Potter?”

His voice was unusually quiet and almost polite. Harry paused as he was clamboring out of his own bag to stare in amazement. After a moment he said, “Yes, sir” and his own voice was subdued.

Snape waved his wand at Harry and an instant later he felt a whoosh of cool air and he felt pleasantly clean again.

He took a deep breath. “Thank you, sir.”

Snape only nodded. He conjured bowls of porridge and toast for breakfast and once they’d eaten he vanished the sleeping bags and said briskly, “Let’s be off then.”

They set off through the woods again, carefully picking their way through the trees and keeping their wands in hand. Neither spoke and the next couple of hours passed in silence.

The sun rose in the sky and it became uncomfortably warm. Harry discovered that his thick jumper, perfect for keeping warm in the drafty castle in the winter, was not the ideal clothing for traipsing along on a summer’s day. Before he grew too hot and sweaty, he paused long enough to pull it over his head and cast a shrinking charm on it.

Snape turned back to see what was keeping him, but refrained from making a sarcastic comment. Harry stuffed the now-tiny jumper into his pocket and hurried to catch up.

Soon afterwards they heard the sound of running water and came upon a wide shallow stream.

“We’ll follow the creek,” Snape said, sounding pleased. “There’s likely to be a village or at least a house near water and we can ask if anyone can direct us towards Salazar Slytherin’s home. If we haven’t come across anything by lunch I’ll Apparate us back to the school and demand that those witches return us to our own time.”

They walked along, following the stream, and everything seemed peaceful…until the creek curved and as they came around the bend, Snape, who was a few steps ahead of Harry, froze and then aimed his wand. “Stupefy!”

Harry peered around him to see a huge panther-type creature ahead, drinking from the stream. It had chestnut-gold fur, sharp claws, and two horns growing from its forehead. Snape’s stunning spell hit it in the flank and it toppled heavily to the ground.

“What is it?” Harry asked in a low voice.

“A bicorn,” Snape replied. “It’s a dangerous animal, Potter, very territorial and aggressive, and its’ scratches and bites are poisonous. There are none left in Britain in our time, but it was different a thousand years ago.”

“Nine hundred and sixty-four,” Harry murmured.

Snape snorted. “Indeed. Well, I’ve read they often live in prides, like lions, so we must be extremely careful.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than they heard several deep growls and then a blood-curdling roar. Three bicorns sprang out of the woods close to their fallen comrade.

“Stupefy!”

Harry and Snape desperately cast spells at the creatures and they too collapsed harmlessly to the ground. But then there was another roar, much closer, and even as Harry spun around a bicorn dropped from a tree just behind him and pounced.

He felt a dozen stinging lashes across his back. The last thing he saw of was Snape’s face, looking uncharacteristically frightened. Then his vision blurred and mercifully, everything went dark.

The next thing Harry was aware of was the low murmur of voices. He was lying on his stomach, on something soft and warm, and the burning pain across his back was gone. Cautiously he opened his eyes a slit and saw Snape and another man sitting in chairs a short distance away, before an empty fireplace.

Harry recognized the other man at once. His slender lanky build, thick dark hair and neatly trimmed beard…he had seen this man before in a vision or a memory or whatever it had been.

Salazar Slytherin.

Harry cleared his throat and sat up, realizing that he had been lying on a bed in the corner of the small room. “Sir?”

His voice came out sounding unusually small and weak. Harry immediately flushed with shame and tried to speak more forcefully. “Where are we? What happened?”

Snape and Salazar both came over to him. Harry was surprised when the Slytherin Founder actually knelt beside him and asked in a surprisingly gentle tone, “How do you feel, lad? You had some ugly wounds.”

There were a few twinges in his back when he moved, but hardly enough to be noticeable. His white shirt had been repaired, too, Harry noticed. The bloodstains and tears were gone. Harry smiled at the man, subconsciously responding to the warmth he could sense in Salazar. “I feel fine, sir. Thank you.”

He glanced up at Snape. The professor was not kneeling, as Salazar was, but he was standing close by and actually looked concerned.

“We are at Salazar Slytherin’s hunting lodge,” Snape answered. “Ironically, he appeared just as you were attacked and helped me to defeat the remaining bicorns. We were able to heal you with a combination of spells and medicinal potions that I always keep on me and then Salazar suggested that we come here to talk and allow you to recuperate.”

Salazar conjured a third chair to sit with the two before the fireplace. “If you’re feeling well, lad, why don’t you come and join us? We’ll have a bite to eat and then Severus can finish explaining how the two of you came to be searching for me.”

So they all went to sit in the chairs and Salazar summoned a house elf who brought them thick meaty sandwiches, bowls of stew, and glasses of wine. Harry didn’t think he’d ever eaten anything so delicious…except maybe the food at the Opening Feast every year when he’d just returned to school from a summer of near-starvation at the Dursleys.

Snape told him the tale of how he and Harry had been called to the past to try and resolve the rift between Salazar and Godric Gryffindor and then a long silence fell. Salazar gazed into the dead fireplace for a long time before speaking.

“We met at the Palazzo de Magic in Rome when we were nine…the other Founders and myself. We were the only students from Britain in our class. We were friends from the first day we met. We soon became even more. We were a family, brothers and sisters. I’ve lived with them almost every day of my life since then. When we fought and I left, I left a huge piece of my heart behind as well. I would like nothing better than to return to them. But I feel very strongly about not admitting Muggle-borns to the school. Their feelings are equally as strong. I don’t know how we can reconcile that.”

Harry looked at him curiously. Salazar Slytherin really didn’t seem to be the type of man he had expected him to be. Based on everything he had heard about him, and on the way the Slytherins now acted, Harry had assumed that Salazar was cold and heartless, blinded by prejudice and hatred.

But Salazar seemed to be kind and gentle, not the kind of person who hated others for no reason.

“Why do you feel so strongly against the Muggle-borns?” He asked softly.

Salazar sighed. “Both of my parents’ families were persecuted and killed by Muggles who were fearful of magic. They were the sole survivors. I grew up fearing and disliking Muggles. But as I grew, my friends and I occasionally had adventures that brought us into contact with Muggles and I began to see that not all of them were like that, and even to have some sympathy for those that were so frightened.”

“Later on, when Hogwarts became a reality, Godric and Helga tried to persuade me that teaching the Muggle-borns would be a step towards enlightening them, reaching out to one person and one family at a time and showing them that wizards are not monsters to be feared, but just people like them, with different talents and skills. They said it was the right thing to do, to help those children learn to control their magic, to reach their potential and to give them a better life. I still had doubts, but I allowed myself to be convinced.”

“We opened the school last fall with twenty-three students, seven of them Muggle-born. Of course those seven were terribly behind the others, but we all worked hard to help them catch up, especially Helga and Godric. And they all made a great deal of progress.”

Salazar was quiet again for a few minutes. “There was one little girl, Moira Stuart, who was particularly gifted. She was one of the young ones, only eleven, and tiny…she looked even younger. A pretty child with golden hair and blue eyes. She had strong magic, even at her age and mostly untrained you could sense it. But more, she had intelligence and ambition. I’ve never seen a child who worked harder, who had such determination to succeed. She was kind and sweet, too. Everyone at the school loved her. Even I was completely won over.”

His face grew hard. “And then she went home for the summer and did a cleaning spell to help her sister finish the chores. Some Muggles saw it and they killed her. They killed that beautiful little girl.”

He looked at Harry with haunted, angry eyes. “That’s why I believe we should never admit Muggle-borns again. It’s dangerous to them, even more than to us. I could not bear it if another child died because of us.”

“But think of the children whose lives you might save, perhaps have already been saved, because you brought them to Hogwarts,” Snape said softly.

Salazar and Harry both looked at him.

“What do you mean?” The Founder asked roughly.

“I mean the Muggle-borns who are in danger every time they cannot control a bout of accidental magic,” Snape answered. “They could just as easily become victims too. They need someone to teach them, to teach them control and to use their powers wisely. They need protection too. There may be a slight risk in bringing them to Hogwarts, but I believe they will be in even greater danger if you do not.”

Salazar stared at him for a long while before turning away. “I…I will consider what you’ve said.”

“Then that is all we can ask,” Snape turned to Harry. “I believe our work here is done. Shall we return to the castle and see about getting back to our own time?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, sir.”

They stood and shook hands.

“Thank you, sir, for helping to save me,” Harry told Salazar.

The great wizard smiled at him and said, “You are most welcome, young Harry. I was glad to be of assistance.”

He and Snape said farewell and Salazar advised them to walk to the edge of the forest surrounding his property to be out of range of his own anti-Apparition wards. They did so and as they reached the trees, Snape said to Harry, “You will need to take hold of my arm, Potter.”

Harry did so and just before Snape spun and took them back to the school, he looked back at the lodge and saw Salazar standing in the doorway, watching them. Harry waved and then everything was dark and he felt a terrible squeezing sensation. He couldn’t breathe and was beginning to panic…but then it was over and they were standing at the edge of Hogwart’s front lawn. Harry staggered, but Snape reached to steady him.

Harry looked at the Potions Master in surprise. “Thank you.”

Snape nodded curtly and led the way up to the castle.

Helga and Rowena met them in the entrance hall.

“Are you all right? Did it go well?” Helga asked eagerly.

Snape glowered. “Aside from your portkey malfunctioning and Potter almost succumbing to bicorn poisoning, I suppose you could say so.”

“Oh, we do apologise. Are you quite all right, dear?” Helga turned to Harry in concern.

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’m fine now. Salazar helped Professor Snape to cure me.”

“You were able to meet with Salazar then?” Rowena asked.

“Yes, and while I do not know that he will return, I believe he is considering the possibility,” Snape told her. “And now Potter and I wish to go back to our own time, if you would be so good as to come to our aid.”

“Of course. We can never thank you enough for your help,” Helga said graciously.

“Yes, we are most sincerely grateful,” Rowena added.

“Then perhaps you would assist us in getting home?” Snape commented dryly, and Harry had to hide a grin at the professor’s snarkiness.

Rowena smiled and flourished her wand in a complicated series of twirls and swishes. Once again, everything swirled together and Harry felt as if he were falling from a tremendous height.

Then he and Snape landed together, in a pile on the cold floor of Snape’s office.

“It must be contagious,” the Potions Master grumbled as he climbed to his feet.

Harry gave him a curious look and Snape added, “The ‘landing like an ungainly elephant’ bit.”

This time Harry couldn’t hide his grin and though Snape snorted again, he didn’t seem angry. As he scrambled up from the floor, it occurred to him that he had never felt so comfortable around Snape before. He hoped it lasted.

The clock on the wall chimed and they both turned to see that they had returned at almost the exact moment they had left.

“Amazing,” Snape murmured to himself.

The damp chill in the air reminded Harry that it was wintertime again here and that he was shivering. Quickly he pulled his jumper from his pocket and enlarged it back to its normal size. As he tugged it over his head, he noticed that Snape was watching him with an odd expression…considering and cautious, but not hostile.

“Last night…or whenever it was that we were camping in that forest…I had some unusual dreams,” Snape said slowly. “They seemed to be scenes of your life.”

Harry felt himself turning red and he stared at the floor, waiting for Snape’s vitriolic jeers about how pathetically weak and spineless he was.

But it never came.

Instead Snape said quietly, “It would seem that I might have misjudged you, Potter.”

Harry raised his eyes, staring at him in shock.

Snape looked extremely uncomfortable, but he continued in the same neutral tone. “I also believe that I have seen some evidence that Umbridge is abusing you.”

“What?”

Snape reached for Harry’s right hand, turning it so the reddened scars were visible. His black eyes blazed. “Do you deny that she has used a Blood Quill on you?”

It seemed rather pointless, with the evidence staring them both in the face, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to answer.

Snape sighed and released his hand. “Come, Potter. We are ending Occlumency early tonight and meeting with the headmaster. He has allowed that odious woman a great deal of power in an effort to avoid a confrontation with the Ministry, but he will never knowingly permit a student to be abused.”

“No! We can’t,” Harry protested desperately.

Snape arched an eyebrow and started to speak, but Harry rushed on.

“We can’t. If there’s a fight with the Ministry, Dumbledore might have to leave the school and we need him here. We can’t take a chance on…”

“Be silent, Potter,” Snape said firmly. “Even Fudge, as contemptuous as he is, cannot defend Umbridge using a dark object and physically abusing a minor child. Dumbledore will not be going anywhere. Umbridge’s days as a free woman are numbered, however.”

“I’m supposed to have detention with her tonight,” Harry murmured.

Snape’s lips tightened. “You will not be having any more detentions with that woman, Potter. Now come along.”

He swept towards the fireplace and took some Floo powder from a jar on the mantel. Harry followed him, feeling completely dazed and bewildered by this strange turn of events.

Harry was humming happily under his breath as he hurried down the corridor. All the other students had left Hogwarts for the summer holidays a few days ago and he and Severus would be leaving soon too. The professors had to stay for an extra week, for end of year meetings and other such duties, but Harry didn’t mind. He was just so grateful not to have to return to the Dursleys.

So much had changed since that night six months ago, when he and Severus had gone back in time, nine hundred and sixty-four years, Harry thought with a grin. Just as Severus had said, Dumbledore had been enraged over the Blood Quill and had immediately set to work having Umbridge evicted. He’d contacted parents of other students she’d abused and the press, and with all the uproar and fury from the public, Fudge had had no choice but to denounce her and give up any attempt to influence the running of Hogwarts.

Umbridge had quickly been carted away for a trial, and after having seen Dumbledore’s rage and power firsthand, Harry thought that Toad Lady was lucky to have gotten off with a ten-year sentence in Azkaban.

And things had only gotten better after that. They’d continued with Occlumency lessons and once Severus had begun truly teaching him, Harry had made amazing progress. He hadn’t had a vision from Voldemort in months, not since saving Mr. Weasley’s life, in fact. He could completely close his mind to the dark wizard now, and he and Severus were beginning to work on Legilimancy as well. Dumbledore had even mentioned that there might be a way, with the three of them working together, to attack Voldemort’s mind and destroy him that way rather than risk an actual confrontation.

But Harry needed to master Legilimancy first. He and Severus were working diligently towards that purpose though. Severus rarely praised him aloud, but Harry had heard him tell Dumbledore that Harry was one of the strongest, most gifted students he’d ever taught and that Severus believed they would be able to defeat Voldemort within a year.

Severus…

He was really the reason that Harry’s life was so much better now, the most important one. The tentative new relationship that had begun during their trip to the past had grown strong, first into a close friendship and then into even more.

Harry couldn’t keep from smiling as he remembered the evening Severus had told him that he wanted to become his guardian. At first Harry hadn’t been able to believe Severus, to believe that anyone could really want him. But when Severus had taken him in his arms and dried his tears, Harry had begun to hope that he had finally found a family.

And he’d given something back to Severus, too, he hoped. Severus had been able to quit spying finally. Harry had hated knowing that he was in danger and sometimes even suffering when he went to those horrible meetings, but Severus had been reluctant to quit. He felt he had to atone for the mistakes he’d made in the past. But then Dumbledore had convinced him that teaching and protecting Harry was an even more valuable contribution and Severus had finally agreed to give up his spying duties.

But Harry thought that he’d given Severus even more. Just the other evening, when his guardian had come in to say good-night, Severus had stroked his fingers through Harry’s hair and told him that he’d never been happier than since Harry had come to live with him.

And now they had the whole summer to look forward to. Later that day he and Severus would travel to the cottage on the Yorkshire moors that belonged to them now. Severus had bought it just a few weeks before so that they could have a real home. Dumbledore had placed it under the Fidelous Charm, with Severus as the Secret-Keeper, so it was perfectly safe and Harry could look forward to the best summer he’d ever had. Severus had even agreed to let Ron and Hermione come to visit.

He hadn’t agreed to allow Sirius to come by, but Harry was working on that. He wasn’t sure if his guardian and his godfather could ever truly get along, but at least for his sake, they were attempting to be civil towards one another, and even if Severus never did want Sirius to come to the cottage, he had agreed that Harry could visit at Grimmauld Place.

“Harry, dear,” a voice broke into his thoughts and Harry turned to see a witch in a portrait calling to him. He stared as he recognized Sarah Trelawney-Dumbledore.

“I never knew you were here!” he exclaimed as he hurried over to stand beside her.

“You don’t come this way very often, do you?” She smiled.

Well, that was true. Her portrait was in the corridor leading to the Slytherin dungeons and even though he lived with Severus now, Harry usually Flooed back and forth from their rooms. It was sheer chance that he was walking today.

“I’ve been wanting to speak with you for a while now,” Sarah said. “It’s good to see you looking so happy, dear.”

Harry smiled at her. “Thank you. I am happy now, and it all started because Severus and I went back to your time.”

She nodded and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Oh, I know. I couldn’t tell you earlier, but you and Severus were a big part of the reason we called you back.”

“Really? I thought it was because your prophecy said that we needed to help bring Salazar back to Hogwarts,” Harry said.

“Well, that was part of it,” Sarah replied. “And thank you very much for your help. Sal did come back, did you know?”

Harry nodded. He and Severus had read in the history books about how Salazar Slytherin had returned to the school and had reconciled with the other Founders, even that he had become a great defender of Muggle-borns.

Sarah continued, “But there was more. The prophecy foretold of a another threat, a powerful dark wizard who would live a thousand years in the future and cause great destruction unless two former enemies could learn to love one another and work together to defeat him. That’s another reason why we called you back. And why we mis-set the portkey, for that matter. We wanted to give the two of you time alone.”

Harry tilted his head at her quizzically. “Did you have anything to do with those dreams we had that night?”

Sarah grinned a little slyly. “You’re a sharp one, Harry Potter. I cast a spell to make you dream, to be able to see through one another’s eyes. Can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Harry told her. “We’re happier than we’ve ever been.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m so happy for you, dear.”

“Harry!” Severus’ voice rang out. “Are you ready to leave?”

Harry turned to see his guardian standing further down the corridor, just outside the doorway to their rooms.

“Yes, I’m coming, Severus!” He called back. He smiled at Sarah. “Thank you. And tell the others ‘thank you’ too, please.”

He turned and hurried down the corridor to join Severus.