Sands of Time

Chapter 13

"No, thank you, sir," said Harry. He did not sit down.

Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon spectacles.

"I'm afraid I must insist," said Dumbledore.

Harry didn't know why Slytherin wanted him to take a lemon drop, but he resolved not to. "No," he said firmly.

Dumbledore couldn't use Imperius on him, so he had no way of forcing Harry to do what he wanted. The hint of a smile on Slytherin's face was worrying though.

"It won't harm you, I assure you."

Nothing Dumbledore was doing was assuring him.

"Very well." Slytherin walked around the desk a lot faster than he had ever thought Dumbledore could manage. He approached Harry, and Harry backed away, fumbling in his pocket for his wand. He should have been following Snape's advice and kept his hand on his wand.

"Petrificus corpus," said Dumbledore casually.

Harry was frozen from the neck down. The Headmaster produced a small, corked bottle and in one swift, brutal movement, pinched Harry's nose and tilted his head back. Harry tried to hold his breath, but when he finally opened his mouth to breath, Slytherin poured the potion down, forcing Harry to swallow or choke. With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore unfroze Harry, then looked sadly at him.

"I'm sorry I had to do that," he said.

Harry stared at him.

"What was that?" he demanded. His hand finally found his wand, but would sending one of the few duelling spells he knew at Dumbledore do any good? Dumbledore shook his head sadly, and returned to his desk.

"A timed Forgetfulness Potion. You'll forget the last five minutes and the next hour, until a time of my own choosing. It should take effect any moment now..."

~~~~~

"Lemon drop?"

"No, thank you, sir," said Harry.

Dumbledore looked disappointed, but didn't press him. Fawkes let out a soothing note from his perch near the desk and Harry looked at the bird in surprise. Granted it was Fawkes' burning time, but he had forgotten the bird was in the room before.

"How long have you had Fawkes?" he asked. Snape's departure meant he was on his own, so he would have to choose his questions carefully. Dumbledore smiled kindly at him.

"Ah, Fawkes. He was the most thoughtful gift I've ever received. Helga sent him to me many years after I left Hogwarts. He has been a good friend since, and an inspiration for some of my experiments."

"So was the Basilisk," pointed out Harry. Dumbledore's eyes narrowed in anger for a moment.

"I'm afraid I was a bit hard on Severus," he said abruptly. Harry was surprised at the change of subject, though it was more at the topic Dumbledore had chosen to change to.

"Hard on him?"

"This must have been as much a shock to him as it was to you," said Dumbledore. Harry thought of Snape sitting in his room earlier, completely forgetting that he was talking to one of his most hated students, and nodded in agreement. "I don't blame him for trying to take control of the situation. It's what I always encouraged my Slytherins to do after all."

"You knew about the Death Eater's meeting tonight," accused Harry.

Dumbledore nodded.

"Severus told me he might be summoned over the next few days. I had hoped it might be later, but had to let him go." It had looked more like Slytherin had forced him to go in Harry's opinion. Dumbledore seemed to read his mind. "Of course, he would not have agreed with what I am about to ask you, Harry. You need to follow him. It's crucial that you be with Professor Snape at this meeting."

"Just as it was crucial for me to face Voldemort by myself in my first-year? And the Basilisk in my second? For all I know you arranged my meeting with Voldemort last year," Harry nearly yelled that last sentence. He was shaking with anger. Dumbledore looked sadly at him.

"I am not omniscient, Harry. You went willingly into danger time and again, and sometimes all I could do was keep you from being seriously harmed. I am sorry to have failed you." He looked so old.

Harry felt his anger drain out of him and wondered bitterly if that was the reaction Dumbledore had wanted.

"Why don't you go after him, Harry?" asked Dumbledore gently.

Harry considered the question. He was being encouraged to follow his professor to a Death Eater meeting which would probably be attended by Voldemort. Was Dumbledore really trying to kill him?

The Headmaster read his mind once again, and Harry could see the twinkle was back in his eye. It had never looked so mocking or sinister before. "I'm not trying to kill you, Harry. I influenced Trelawney into thinking she had made that prophecy. When she awoke to find that piece of parchment in her handwriting, she was forced to believe."

"Was the letter fake as well?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Of course it was. Do you really think I would tell Remus to do that?" he asked mildly.

Harry wanted to shake his head no, but he couldn't. He had the strangest feeling that Slytherin would do exactly that if he thought it was for a good reason.

Dumbledore sighed and took off his spectacles to rub at his eyes. He looked very tired.

"I think it's important that you attend this meeting, Harry. It will be perfectly safe. Just fetch your invisibility cloak and take these two portkeys." He held out a small box with two carven figures nestled inside. "The black raven will take you to wherever Severus has apparated to. The white bumblebee will bring you back here, or rather back to the front of the castle, since the portkeys will not actually work, inside the castle's wards." He held out the box and still Harry hesitated. The Headmaster stared straight into his eyes.

"You proved your trust in me in your second-year. Is it asking too much for a little more now that we are so close..." He trailed off and Harry was left wondering what he would have said. "No matter. You can go or stay, Harry. Professor Snape will need you, but here is the box. I wish you luck." He thrust the box into Harry's hands and swept out the door.

Harry stared down at the box in his hands. He didn't have much choice, did he?

*****

Harry went to fetch his invisibility cloak. He was sure Slytherin had made a mistake. In order for Harry to get his cloak, he would have to get to his trunk, which meant going to Gryffindor tower. It gave Harry the perfect opportunity to tell Ron, and maybe Hermione about what was happening, even if he would have to wake Ron up to do so. Dumbledore wouldn't be happy about having his secret told to anyone else and maybe his friends could help him. Hermione was certainly good at puzzles...unless Slytherin wanted him to tell his friends.

Harry considered the paranoia behind his latest thought and wondered if he'd be clomping about with one magic eye, yelling 'Constant vigilance!' at dustbins in the future. Of course, there was always the problem that Moody had been right to be paranoid...

Lost in his thoughts, it took Harry a moment to notice the voices that were echoing down the corridor.

"It won't do any good, Helga."

"You're getting cynical in your old age, dear."

"I'm a portrait. I don't age. I fade away."

"Isn't that a comforting thought. Hush now." The voices faded as Harry walked slowly down the corridor, trying to keep his footsteps silent. One side of the corridor was draped in a huge, faded tapestry. Opposite it were two portraits, only one of which was occupied. The other contained two women, both in flowing white robes.

Harry paused to study it. Had they been the ones talking, or had it been the occupants of the now, empty portrait?

The witches were elegantly posing together, staring boldly out of the painting. The blonde one had her hair up in a bun, while the darker-haired woman let hers hang loose. Both had more than enough grey gracing their heads. They had very stern expressions frozen on their faces.

Harry continued to stare at the painting and finally realized what was wrong with it. The women weren't moving.

"Sorry to bother you, but are you the Founders?" he asked, feeling slightly silly for asking a portrait such an important question. There was no response, not even a blink from one of the women. He was about to give up when he noticed a movement. The hair of the dark-haired woman was swaying slightly in the breeze.

"I saw your hair move, so I know you can respond." His statement had the desired effect. The blonde-haired woman's hand moved to check her bun, and was slapped down again by the other woman.

"That dratted wind. Why ever did we allow Notker to paint us outside?" complained the darker-haired woman as she fixed her own hair.

"I believe he complimented your complexion. Said he could show it off best outside and you practically flew down from the tower to pose," said the other, the amusement evident in her tone. "But we should perhaps address the young man who has so accurately guessed our identities." She turned her gaze on him. "I am Helga Hufflepuff and this is Rowena Ravenclaw. How can we help you?"

"What were you talking about before I came up?"

"An old debate," said Ravenclaw hastily. "Nothing you need to worry about."

"Perhaps he does," said Hufflepuff, eyeing him speculatively. "I don't think we've ever had a Gryffindor talk to us before."

"Did it have something to do with Slytherin?" Harry asked.

"Perhaps," answered Hufflepuff. Harry got the impression they were waiting for something.

"You must prove yourself worthy of our knowledge." Rowena's dark eyes were boring into his, and he cast about desperately for something to prove himself.

"I know that you thought that Gryffindor and Slytherin were being childish with their bickering and pranks," he told Hufflepuff. "I know that Slytherin's adder was named Striker." His knowledge didn't seem to impress them. What could he mention to them? "The storm. There was a magical storm that might have been caused by Slytherin, and you told Godric that it lasted exactly three hours," he told Ravenclaw triumphantly. They seemed surprised by his knowledge. Helga looked questioningly at Rowena, and the dark-haired witch gave a reluctant nod.

"Turn around, and look," ordered Ravenclaw. It was a strange thing to ask, but after an encouraging nod from Helga, Harry did as he was told.

The tapestry covering the far wall shimmered. Threads now glowed with new life, reweaving themselves seamlessly to display a new picture.

It was a garden. Row upon row of flowering herbs in neat sections. The threads rewove again, focusing in on two figures in the background. It was Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, sitting on a bench near one end of the garden. They looked old, the colour leeched from their hair and Rowena had one trembling hand on a walking stick. When their voices came, they were cracked and faded, like the sound on an old movie.

"You helped him after we condemned him. After you condemned him." Rowena's voice sounded bitter.

"It was only a phoenix, dear. Every man deserves a bit of comfort, and he never tried to harm us," Helga said. She was playing with a sprig of juniper.

"What did he try to do then?"

"I do not fully approve, or understand what he did, but I know the motivations behind it. He wants us to succeed. He wants Hogwarts to succeed," said Helga firmly. Rowena stared off into the distance.

"Three hours," she said softly.

"He set you a pretty puzzle didn't he?" Helga sounded amused. Rowena gave a snort of disgust.

"And one for Godric as well. All life in a cycle..." She turned to face Helga. "What did you see? You went to his lab right after the storm."

Helga waited a long time before speaking.

"He was crumpled on the floor in the middle of his lab, and I thought he was dead. His hair colour shifted strangely between his usual dark red and a fine grey, but it settled once he opened his eyes. He refused my help to stand up, but I helped him anyway since he looked ready to collapse. It was only then that I noticed the floor around him was littered with dust and the tiny bodies of hundreds of dead butterflies. Green and silver wings that crunched under our feet."

"He didn't seem to see them. He was babbling about succeeding. Saying that he'd established the cycle and that the ancient wizards were fools. I asked him what he was talking about, and he caught my wrists, peering into my face as if he were searching for something only he could see. I...I don't think he found it because he released me and gave me some perfunctory thanks before shooing me out of his lab. You heard his excuse later on. He was working on some revolutionary potion, and was so engrossed that he never noticed the storm." Helga's displeasure at the lie was written across her face.

"Why didn't you tell us? Or at least me?"

"Does what I saw give you any more insight into what happened?" asked Helga.

"Something with butterflies obviously and cycles. Merlin's beard, Helga! If you had told me this years ago I might have had the time to research, now...We don't have much time left."

"Pessimism will get us nowhere!" snapped Helga. "I know he has Hogwarts' best interests at heart. That is all I require. We did the same thing after all. My tapestries, your spells. We will live on in this place long after our bodies fail." She sounded sad.

"Our journals and our memories. We must leave them behind or how else will our future understand us?" asked Rowena mournfully. They sat in silence for a moment before Helga shook herself.

"Enough of this. Dinner will be served soon and we'll be missed in the Great Hall." She got up to leave and the threads of the tapestry grew dimmer, rearranging themselves into the faded pattern they had held before.

Harry stood in a shock for a moment before turning to ask the Founder's portrait a question. The two witches were gone and all he could see in the painting was the faint grass in the background.

Something touched Harry's leg and he jumped. He looked over, then down. Dobby was clutching his robes with one hand, while holding a large package to his chest with the other.

"Dobby is sorry to bother you, Harry Potter, sir."

"What do you want, Dobby?" asked Harry wearily.

Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw's conversation had just given him more questions. He didn't know what to think about Slytherin anymore. Dobby held out the package towards him.

"Headmaster Dumbledore asked Dobby to give you this, sir."

Harry took the package, and realized by the weight what it must be. His invisibility cloak. "He says you must hurry, sir. He says you don't have time to dawdle. Professor Snape is in danger, sir. I will help you, sir. Here." Dobby touched him with one of his fingers.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, and blinked in shock as he found himself standing outside the main entrance to the castle. It seems there hadn't been a flaw in Slytherin's plan after all.

Harry looked longingly up towards where Gryffindor tower would be if it weren't so dark, then opened the box with the portkeys. Even if Slytherin was lying, he couldn't let Snape face this danger alone, though every part of him was trembling at the thought of facing Voldemort again. He un-wrapped the package and pulled his cloak on. With one finger, he touched the black raven carving. A hook tugged at his navel and Hogwarts disappeared into the night.