Live When There Is Time

Maia Brorsson was doing her best to not burst in tears. Admittedly, her best was not enough and she hated it. Maia had always been too weepy and never could help it. The day had begun pleasantly enough. She had woken up early, had had the time to manage her hair and in a sudden burst of dutifulness had done all her homework on the previous evening. It had been stupid to think that it would last even though the day had started with a double lesson in History of Magic, which she liked. It wasn't demanding. However, next they had Charms with Gryffindor and it had gone downhill from there. Maia was abysmal in Charms. She had been the only one not to manage the assignment and hadn't the Gryffindors enjoyed that. Professor, benevolent as he was, had offered to tutor her on next Saturday. She had had no choice but to thank him and so the joys of Hogsmeade would be lost to her this month.

Now McGonagall was going to kill her. Maia was ten minutes late for the lesson. It was partly her fault for not being able to resist a second helping of

that delicious pudding at lunch. Eating always cheered her up and after the humiliation in Charms she had needed the comfort. She was a slow, indulgent eater so when she had finally left for the lesson the Great Hall was almost empty. Maia was so full of food and enjoying the lingering sweet taste that Peeves' attack took her completely by surprise. Otherwise the poltergeist wouldn't have stood a chance, of course. He rarely even targeted Slytherins in fear of the Bloody Baron. This time, however, the little bugger probably had been so bursting with malicious energy that in the empty corridor Maia had had to do, Green and Silver or not. Having managed to snatch her wand the bastard was now cackling with glee. He zoomed to and fro the hallway shouting obscenities at her. Maia was almost desperate when Peeves finally dropped her wand having caught a glimpse of preferable victim. While Peeves inflicted himself on Filch Maia abandoned all appearances of coolness and started to trot towards the Transfigurations Classroom. Ignoring the tittering Gryffindor third years peeking from a classroom she hoped she would not sweat too much. McGonagall always took points for "untidy appearance."

Entertaining the comforting thought that at least she would not have to answer for her housemates about the lost points after McGonagall had finished her off Maia jogged along and approached a stairway after which only one longish corridor and a left-turn separated her from her destination. She did not have a watch on her person but she must have been already good fifteen minutes late. Running up the stairs she felt the ominous flapping which indicated open shoelaces. Brilliant, why now! Having absolutely no time to stop to fix them she just kept her eyes on her feet, trying to see that she would not stumble on them. Panting, Maia reached the top of the stairs and leaped forward to finish the last part of the marathon.

That was not to be. Suddenly she felt no need to pant or even breath for that matter. During her concentration on her footwear the staircase had taken off, heading for a different landing. It continued its way with inanimate placidity while Maia continued her journey at a far faster pace downwards. Instead of familiar cold and worn stone her feet had met with chilling nothingness. For a fleeting second time seemed to slow down as Maia realized what had happened. Cold terror knotted her intestines and her heart sought refuge in her throat - probably so that she would more clearly hear its last frantic beats. Despite its suffocating effect she was very capable of screaming so loudly that it tore her throat. It was automatic and of little use. No one could come to help fast enough. The drop must have been nearly 60 foot and yet the floor rushed forward with eye-watering speed. Maia pinched her eyes shut in pathetic denial and hoped it would not hurt much.

In the infinitely long moments when she waited the crushing contact with hard stone her thoughts zoomed around bringing up the oddest or memories. In the pinkish light filtering through her eyelids not a film but snippets or her life flickered. Maia had never really believed in the cliché that on the moment of your death you saw your life flashing by. Obviously she was now proven wrong.

"Brorsson, Maia!"

She approached the old hat curiously. It hadn't bitten off "Abbot, John"'s head, so maybe this would not be so horrible. There was no sight of the dragons her brother had told her about. The ones who would eat everyone who at the mysterious Sorting were considered unworthy of Hogwarts.

Lack of big scaly monsters reassured her somewhat and she flopped the hat on her head. The thing's brim covered her eyes, so she could mercifully forget the hundreds of people present and imagine being alone. She never liked crowds.

Soon her head was filled with silent murmuring.

"Hmm.. What have we here? After all this time. Oh, but never mind. On to the Sorting... A stubborn little thing, aren't you. Believe that you are always right? Let's see, where would you feel at home..."

A talking hat? They were sorted by a sentient piece of headwear? Well, it seemed kind enough. Maybe she wouldn't go to the dragons.

"Ah! Unsure of yourself despite quite a dose of arrogance? Don't worry about any dragons. Even if there were such a

tradition, you wouldn't go to them. You are quite a clever little girl, aren't you? Used to having things your way? But not ready to dedicate much of your life to textbooks, though story books are almost an addiction. Well, this laziness rules out Ravenclaw, and you don't have the

penchant for detail necessary there either... And Hufflepuff won't do. You're not

hardworking or loyal - and not ashamed of it. Interesting little piece of work,

aren't you? But so are they all, so are they all...

I'm afraid you aren't very brave, pardon the pun. You believe that that living dog is better than dead lion? How have you come accross the Muggle Bible, child? Well, should have guessed, a Muggle-born Grandfather... Only a Grandfather... hmm... you're

pureblood enough, I'd say...You are ambitious, and a bit more cunning than the

average. You have a bit self-centred way of thinking. Well, I know where they aren't opposed

to that... Off you go and be happy in... SLYTHERIN!

Well, the hat was honest if anything. Lazy and coward, that certainly did good to her self-esteem. Feeling gloomy she stalked to sit at the Slytherin table. Her brother Matt, the bloody family genius with his perfect grades, gave her a slight smile from the other end of the table, but didn't of course invite her to sit with him and his cool fifth year friends. In the same house with Matt. This was going to be just peachy. Of course now her family would be happy, having her in the traditional house. But they really would not have cared had she been sorted anywhere else - she was a girl and a second child after all.

Her Sorting was something Maia would have gladly not remembered. More pictures flickered in her mind's eye: lessons gone by; tests sat in sweaty silence; duelling practises with Matt; school corridors which she had enjoyed wandering...

Maia had her best friend Decima Bulstrode and she was on friendly terms with most of her yearmates. She was not really a social person, though, and liked to be left to her own devices. Most of her free time was spent in the company of the paintings which adorned Hogwarts' halls. Secluded corridors and abandoned turrets were her retreat where she practised languages with paintings of foreigners and even had true friends among the painted people. How she now missed their undemanding company and most of all the possibility to see them again.

All the reminisces, flashes, thoughts, hopes, fears and regrets soon dwindled to a small feverish circle. Maia held no belief to any higher powers and had always scoffed those, mainly Muggle-borns, who did. Was not the wizardkind powerful enough? On her way to certain death there were then no prayers, only sad regrets about the precious years she had wasted. She should have lived more fully, socialized more. She should have seized every day, rainy or sunny - lived to the utmost. Yes, she should have lived when she had time; lived when there was time. Just lived, damn it, and not wasted it all in youthful infatuations and whimsicality!

Lived...Spare...Time...

Suddenly Maia felt a surge of magic, a flash of red, and then everything went blissfully black.

Against all her expectations Maia awoke again. Rather painfully in fact, by falling on her bum but not at a dangerous speed. It took her a moment to orientate herself and she took an awed look around, expecting to see the person who had probably broken her descent with a brilliantly timed Leviosa.

Above her did not open the vastness interrupted only by a few staircases. Instead her eyes met an arched ceiling which was certainly low in comparison to her expectations. From there Maia's gaze fell to meet four adult strangers. All newly acquired relief vanished like a person under an invisibility cloak. Nothing made sense.

What on earth had happened? Had she been dreaming? Was she dreaming? Was she dead or not?

Maia felt a sudden assault of a severe headache and bent down groaning and clutching her head between her knees and sheltered it with her hands. Fighting the blinding white pain behind her eyeballs she struggled to sit so she could keep an eye on the strangers who had not moved or spoken since her descend.

Who were they? Where was she? Why was she not under the stairs? Miraculous escape from death was not unheard of but this kind of radical change of scenery during it definitely was.

That the foursome were strangers was the least odd thing about them. Maia was more disturbed by their rather eccentric clothing. Two women with long gowns of probably wool and black cloaks of similar cloth and were those wimples on their heads? With them were two men wearing black robes underneath of which could be seen simple tunics. The other one had his robe ridiculously wrapped around his upper body, almost like a toga. Maia could accept that they were complete strangers and that their clothing ideals were a tad too medieval even on wizarding standards. Nevertheless, she rather disliked the fact that they all stared at her intensely and not in a hospitable or pleased manner - over the length of wands. Wands! At least they were wizards.

One of the men, a blond-haired one in a red tunic, spoke to her. Maia could not understand a word he said and tried to convey this message to him. The man looked at her disbelievingly and then lowered his gaze to the Slytherin crest on her robes. This seemed to anger him slightly. He looked questioningly at

the other man, in a blue tunic with thin, black, already greying hair, and seemed to ask something in the same gibberish. The addressee only glanced at him

and answered something with an exasperated tone. To Maia's astonishment, if such a relatively mild name could be used of her sentiments, the man

replied, but in some form of Latin. At least Maia thought it was Latin, but she understood as much as from the other man's speech. Excluding the brief glance, the dark one disconcertingly kept his eyes on her all the time. She could just feel his stare and suppressed the urge to shudder. It was not merely cold. It portrayed completely uncaring attitude, as if she was not a person but an object, a thing. Lucius Malfoy had a similar look when he held some of Father's books in his hands. It spoke of indifference, boredom, superiority, assessment and disdain.

At this point the women joined in, using the same harsh tongue as the blond man. One of them seemed to be quite bit younger than the other: she had a fair complexion and large brown eyes which she kept squinting. She was probably a bit myopic.. The other woman was older, but probably under

Forty still. Maia never could tell people's age well by their looks. The older lady had decidedly more considered attire - smooth as just ironed and it fit to her form with exactitude which spoke of much money. Maia was shaken from her fashion assessments when the four began to speak with more and more raised voices. Or the three; the older man was mostly silent and kept staring at her in his cold way. Only occasionally did he comment something, always in Latin.

During the exchange Maia, though very afraid, was relieved that no one demanded her of anything. All she wanted to do was to wake up from this absurd nightmare and gulp down a pint or two of headache potion. Some anti-hallucinogenic would do good, too. She had no idea where she was, what had happened or who the people were. Looking around she noticed that the room resembled the Headmaster's office, in fact, seemed to be the same, only with different decoration. Four comfortable looking chairs stood in front of the fireplace, walls were covered with tapestries and the room was bright, warm and cosy, despite its lack of further furniture. On a table were books heaped in messy piles. The residents appeared to be sombre people, for all of them were heavy, leathery tomes - not a single paperback or novel was in sight. If Maia was to stay here, she would certainly die. She couldn't live without literature. In

that respect the Sorting Hat been right: her reading habits resembled an addiction.

She was again startled from her inspection, this time by a painful poke on her shoulder. The blond man had apparently been elected to be the questioner: he spoke again and probably showered her with questions. The women looked expectant. Maia would have gladly replied had she understood any of it. These people didn't act like Death Eater recruiters, known for their "mark first, ask then" policy, so she could only presume that they were as baffled as she. Since

her muteness seemed to annoy them, Maia decided to give them her best and started in turn babble back at them in good Queen's English. They could not be so dense as not to realize she did not share their language, or could they? The Blond one blinked and looked at the others pleadingly saying something, probably stating the obvious. As English didn't reach them Maia threw in some phrases of German, which she had amazingly enough probably sleep-learned on those boring lessons. Her tentative discussions with the painting of Doctor Faustus in the attic of the Serpens Tower must have paid off. In lessons Maia had mostly slept.

At this point Maia's fear had begun to abate: she was baffled, they probably were baffled. They hadn't killed or tortured her yet. She had no reasons to hold back anymore, the situation couldn't possibly get any more absurd and it was a definite improvement from the 60-feet drop, from which she had so pleasantly been deprived.

The German had caused a faint shimmer of recognition cross one of the women's face, the tiny red-haired one, who had a green gown, but she obviously didn't understand any more than Maia had understood from the Latin spoken earlier. Oh yes, there was Latin, too. That might bring interesting results. What could she say? Courtesy never was redundant as Mother had so often repeated.

"Salvete. Nomen mihi est Maia Brorsson."

They all startled and suddenly the hitherto mostly silent man addressed her while the others watched, understanding dawning on their faces along with confusion.

"Salve. Nomen mihi est Salazar Slytherin."

Maybe she was in a coma, having wild dreams? Better not risk it. Maia scooted backwards, remembering the fireplace almost too late, took a sharp turn to the right and ran past the blond man to the door like a lunatic, which she in a way was. Logical thinking had abandoned Maia a while ago. Her brain had probably considered it absolutely useless in the current situation. Was this a cruel joke? What had happened?

And what actually was behind that door? No, it did not matter. Here was a man who claimed to be a dark wizard from long ago and it was impossible to travel more than few hours in time. All Maia wanted was to get out and escape. It was too taxing and nothing made sense. It would have been better to die than lose her mind. Just a few more steps and the time had slowed down again as she concentrated on the door...

"Stupefy!"

And Maia was claimed by sweet oblivion.

"Ennervate."

Small word, spoken calmly and Maia continued running towards the door... which

wasn't there anymore? Oh, right, she had been Stupefied. Brilliant. She was a witch, supposedly and in a bout of panic forgot such a simple spell as Stupefy. Not that she could perform it on a larger animal than a rat. But she had hit something warm and solid. Oh, right, what had she been escaping. OR more correctly, who. The man claiming to be Salazar Slytherin, who was now in front of her...0 centimetres away... on whom she was currently leaning? No, who was holding her by the arms in a bruising, no, in a bone-breaking, grip.

Looking down on her with a cold expression he pushed Maia backwards and she ended up on the floor, acutely noticing that this must be a different room because instead of chilly stone floor her derriere encountered a soft hide. "Salazar" started to pace around her, barking words in Latin. The tone of his voice suggested that Maia had better answer and soon, or unpleasant things would happen. He grabbed the Slytherin crest in her school robes and shaked her violently as Maia was conveniently in his grip along the crest. Maia decided to do her best to indulge him.

"Non comprehendo. Er...Non linguam latinam bene loquor."

.

He looked at Maia with contempt but stepped back letting his eyes sweep over her. He looked like he had never seen an outfit like hers, which was disconcerting since as a wizard he definitely should have seen school-robes before. Especially if he imagined himself to be the Founder of her House. Suddenly the frustration on his face transformed into calculation. He regarded her for a while and then turned around to rummage in the shelves which circulated the entire room, stuffed full with books and different kind of equipment.

All the books were of the same boring-old-textbook variety as in the previous room. Why were there only leather bound tomes?

"Salazar" had obviously found what he wanted, for he approached her with two vials in his hands: one contained muddy brown liquid, the other... water? He took a sip of the brown stuff, grabbed her chin and forced some in her mouth. Maia spluttered at the foul taste and couldn't help complaining. He would not understand anyway.

"You could have asked!"

He smiled triumphantly and replied.

"Ah, but you would not have understood."

Maia felt like having another stupefy at her.