Sands of Time

Chapter 10

Harry was glad that Hermione hadn't taken the book back yet. He told Ron that Snape wanted him to have his Potion's book, and took that and the Founder's book back to the dungeon.

Snape took the book from him and raised an eyebrow at the title, Common Household Charms. With an annoyed look at him, Snape taped his wand against the book and said, "Finite incantum". The real cover of the book shimmered to life. Instead of turning to Chapter Seven like Harry expected him to, Snape turned to the title page.

"Grameyre Studion," said Snape thoughtfully.

"Is something wrong with the name?" asked Harry.

Snape gave him a patronizing look.

"Other than it being an obvious pseudonym, no," he said.

Harry read the author's name again. It sounded like any other wizarding name to him. "How do you know it's a pseudonym?"

Snape looked annoyed, but explained anyway.

"Studion's a name that an author who wishes to remain anonymous takes. It's a custom that died out awhile ago, but occasionally you get a book like this one, published under the name. If you interrupt me again, you will regret it. Get back to your detention!"

Harry reluctantly went back to his task, doing his best to extract the poison while keeping a surreptitious eye on Professor Snape as he flipped haphazardly through the Founder's book. He had nearly finished (and without burning himself to his surprise) when Snape slammed the book shut in disgust, then opened it up again to a certain place. He read it again, then slammed it shut again.

"I don't think Hermione's going to be happy if you destroy her book," said Harry.

Snape shot him a look of pure loathing.

"Did you read anything in this book besides your precious Chapter Seven?" sneered his professor. Harry shook his head. Snape pushed the book towards him, opening it to a certain place. "Here. Read and learn something."

Harry approached the book curiously. What had Snape found? He looked at the page. Chapter Ten - Godric Gryffindor. He glanced up at Snape, who tapped an entry on the second page.

"Read that one," he ordered.

February the twenty-third, 991

There was a storm today. A storm of the likes I doubt anyone has ever seen. The entire world shook. Not with thunder or lightning, but with magic. Great balls of pure magic floated down the corridors. One of the students is in the hospital wing now being treated for a burnt arm that was her punishment for attempting to magic one of the balls away. The younger students could be found crying in the corners, or staring about in shock, their awakening magical senses overwhelmed by the chaos. I was not above wishing that I could hide with them, but instead I had to stay and keep order.

I told Rowena it was Salazar's fault, but she said I always say it's his fault. I cannot help it if it always is. Salazar never showed his face the entire time. I even ran down to the dungeons and pounded on his door, begging him to answer for the sake of Hogwarts if nothing else. But his rooms were silent with the wards firmly in place.

The storm died down after a few hours. Rowena said it lasted for exactly three, but I'm not sure why that makes a difference.

It was Helga who went down and fetched Salazar for supper. She's been angry at him ever since but she won't tell me why. Slytherin is pretending that nothing ever happened. I'm going to corner him tomorrow and get some answers one way or another.

February the twenty-fourth, 991

I had a dream this morning. Salazar was standing down in his dungeons, his arms raised, and around him flew thousands of silver and green winged butterflies. The-

Harry looked up from the book. There was that reference to butterflies again. He didn't understand, and Godric's dream of Salazar was disturbingly close to his own.

"Salazar Slytherin did something on February twenty-third, nearly a thousand years ago," he said, speaking aloud to himself. "Something to do with butterflies and something that Helga would have approved of. Something that created a magical storm."

"All life is a cycle," said Snape thoughtfully.

Harry's heart started beating faster. He saw the Dumbledore in his dream, mouthing the words over and over. All life is a cycle. All life is a cycle.

"Where did you hear that, Sir?" he asked as respectfully as possible.

Snape reached down and tapped the book again, giving him a small sneer.

Harry leant over and began reading where he had left off.

Then he turned into a giant butterfly and flew off into the sun. It must have been inspired by that cage of butterflies I saw in Salazar's lab last time I was there.

I talked to Rowena first thing, asking for her theories about the magical storm. She had many, but few of them were plausible and none of them pointed towards Salazar. I had to teach in the morning, but then devoted myself to getting Salazar alone. Rowena and Helga would not appreciate me accusing him in front of them or the students.

He came willingly to one of our disused meeting places, but once there, I barely got a word out of him. He denied everything of course, playing with my words like he always does, his eyes twinkling with some inner amusement. But near the end, I got him to tell me something.

All life is a cycle. That was his hint for all the good it will do me. Helga seems to know something of what went on, but she refuses to tell me. Sometimes I wonder how we will all keep this school together if we persist in our secrets. I will ask Rowena again tomorrow, and maybe someday I will have some answers.

Harry was confused and unsure what to do. Snape was sure to dismiss him if he told him about his dream, but he didn't know why Dumbledore would have been repeating Slytherin's thousand year-old hint. For that matter, what did any of this have to do with Dumbledore acting strangely? A thought occurred to him. What if Dumbledore had altered the book when he had Binns take it away? Maybe the book they stole from McGonagall's office wasn't the same book. He shared his theory with Snape.

"It's possible," said the older wizard reluctantly. "We'd have to ask Miss. Granger if she noticed any difference since she's the only one who read it before hand." His face was twisted into a grimace at the very idea of asking Hermione for help.

"What do we do now?" asked Harry.

Snape looked at him, distaste written across his face.

"You are finishing your detention while I read through the rest of the book. Then you will go back to Gryffindor and forget this ever happened. Let me deal with Dumbledore."

"But-"

"Are you protesting, Potter?" Snape's eyes glittered dangerously. "Dumbledore is the only one who has stopped me from making your life here miserable. But both you and I know that you won't go running to Dumbledore no matter what I do..." He trailed off, his point amply made.

Harry clenched his fists, seething inside. He had been right about Snape listening to him, but he should have expected that Snape would want to deal with this on his own. He couldn't stand aside now though, even if Snape made his life miserable. It wasn't just his death that might happen. Remus and Sirius were in danger as well, and who knew who else had been sent conflicting orders that Snape hadn't intercepted?

He was in the process of angrily bottling the poison from the acid root, planning in his head what he was going to say to Snape when he was done, when there was a tentative knock on the door.

Snape looked up, then stared at the door for a long moment before undoing its ward.

"Come in," he ordered.

Harry gaped in shock. Draco stood in the doorway. He spared a glare for Harry before focusing on Professor Snape.

"Sorry to bother you, Sir." Draco gave Snape an ingratiating smile that made Harry sick. "The Headmaster wants to see you in his office. He says to bring Potter with you."

Snape looked as shocked as Harry felt, but recovered a lot quicker.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. Five points to Slytherin for your quick delivery."

Draco made no move to leave. Harry guessed he was hoping to find out what this was all about.

"That will be all," said Snape with a touch of annoyance.

Draco reluctantly left, and Snape stood in the doorway for a moment before turning to him.

"Come along, Potter," he said loudly, then leant in closer. "Keep your hand on your wand," he hissed, before straightening and striding off.

Harry had to run to keep up.