Live When There Is Time

It is most amusing, if you are thinking clearly enough to appreciate the irony, how your beliefs and scornful thoughts have a tendency to come and smack you in the face when you least expect it. Or are able to expect it full and well, but hope against hope that it would not happen.. Maia Brorsson had truly had her share of that recently.

For example, She had always thought little of those misty-eyed damsels in distress in novels. When something unexpected happened, the idiots simply refused to acknowledge the situation and even less tried to think logically about it. Their whole vocabulary seemed to consist of sentences like "this can't be happening!", "oh! I'm going to faint" and "you will regret this!" Between the aforementioned they of course spouted intelligent and sharp witticisms earning the admiration of the most vile of opponents. Then, in the nick of time, when they would inevitably start to repeat themselves at an alarming rate, the hero arrived and they flew to the sunset with a state-of-the-art broom.

To her horror Maia found herself making a pitiful impersonation of a badly written fictional maiden, only sans witticisms and the knight in a shining armour, of course. What could be expected? Luckily, that far there had been the small mercy that no one seemed to understand her. For all they cared she could have been quoting poets and being disgustingly heroic and defiant. Then this! Maia concluded that she had officially passed a sign which said "Welcome to Worse, population one."

This man, her captor, had some sort of potion which translated speech from one language to another. Now nothing would prevent Maia from speaking herself in to trouble. The small logical portion of her brain peeked from its hiding place and pointed out something odd. There were no translative potions, only spells applicable merely to books. So, who was he really? Deranged potions genius hiding from the world? Then why would she be here? Maia decided to abandon these thoughts, logic clearly wasn't of use yet. Instead of juts agonising herself with fruitless wonderings she might as well try to communicate.

"What...who...how...?"

How eloquent and coherent. Maia started to cough again, it gave her something to do. And the potion had tasted awful, there was more than a hint of rotten eggs and sulphur.

Her companion silenced her with a brief "Shut up!", before she had more time to eloquently dig her present shit-hole deeper. The wizard seemed to be thinking how to phrase himself and Maia had time for the first time to observe her new surroundings. There were hides on a wooden floor and the ever-present fireplace. She looked at it with slight envy: this man would have no problems when arriving by floo - the crate was cavernous and the small fire therein looked almost ridiculous. On the fire bubbled a cauldron. The walls were covered by bookcases and some of them contained, instead of books, vials and alchemist's gear. So the man truly new something about potions.

There was a table in the middle of the room, cluttered with all kinds of paraphernalia the like of which she had never seen. It all looked massive, the handiwork was simplistic and ehavy. Beside a window through which she could see only darkness was another smaller table behind which was a chair. In front of the fireplace was a comfortable looking cushioned chair. On the floor under the larger table and in one corner there were two chests, on which was also piled pieces of parchment and quills. It resembled a scientist's lair, in a batty, reactionary way. Maia was drawn from her observations by the man, who now addressed her with a low and refined voice. That foul potion must have been potent indeed, if it translated the speaker's accent as well as words.

"Who are you?"

Glad that she could easily answer that Maia told him. She told him her name. "Maia Jane Brorsson."

"How did you get here?" Came the swift reply.

Apparently she was at his mercy and could get information if and when he felt like it. It was a statement which hung silently in the air, voiced by neither of them. Well, Maia thought, in for a sickle, in for a galleon and plunged on in an explanation of the whole confusing affair.

"I have no idea. S..Sir? Actually, I don't know what this place is and... Um... I..I thought I was going to d...die and then..." Maia's voice faltered, it sounded idiotic even in her own ears. "I was falling - I had been late, um, was late and then the staircase--"

The man glanced at her doubtfully and promptly forced the other vial between her teeth, interrupting her - not gently. Maia would have liked to glare at him had it not been a stupid thing to do. Never glare at someone, who could kill you instantaneously. This brought to her attention that he had her wand stuck in his belt out of her reach.

"Drink!"

Maia saw no other option and gulped down the fortunately this time tasteless liquid. Soon she started to feel dizzy and realized with a start. Veritaserum! Was the man able to brew Veritaserum or how had he procured it? The use of the potion was strictly prohibited from other than official purposes. And what about that translative potion nobody knew nothing about? However, Maia couldn't pursue these thoughts further for the Veritaserum had taken full effect. Everything swam in pink light and was slightly distorted - like she was inside a soap bubble. Some other force had taken control of her vocal organs for she barely could keep track of the conversation, of which she apparently was participant, though.

"Now, who are you?"

"Maia Jane Brorsson."

"Where are you from?"

"Oxford."

"Who has taught you magic?"

"The teachers at Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Tell me, when were you born?"

"In the year 1981."

Again the man fell into one of those disconcerting silences for a good five minutes. Then he continued.

"By which calendar?"

"The Christian one, as it is in common use and thus convenient. So, according to it, my year of birth is 1981 A.D"

A longer silence. And...

"How old are you?"

"I'm 17 years and five months. On my sixth year at school."

The man watched Maia carefully, like wanting to be sure of something. He checked her pulse on her neck - his fingers were cold and calloused. Circling around her like a vulture he took in her appearance.

"No one has ever been able to resist my Veritaserum, it is simply impossible. That means you really are from the future."

The wizard's voice held a tone of statement, not a question. His face, having hitherto been in turn contemptuous, cold or inquisitive while turned on Maia now formed its lines to a frighteningly calculating expression - a typically Slytherin expression. She had seen it in various forms on the faces of her classmates, their parents or her own parents. She herself had never really mastered it to perfection. The expression said in four-feet-tall letters hmmm... what is in this for me?

Dully, in a world of blocked nerve-ends, something tried to frantically come through to her attention. Wait a minute, she was from the future? That expression on his face struck a some sort of unconscious cord in her memory and some hundred tapestries adorning Hogwarts' hallowed halls surfaced in her mind. It could not be, could it? For once Maia hoped logic would fail her. The resemblance between "Salazar" here and the real Salazar Slytherin in those pictures was more than uncanny.

The questioning began again. If not for the circumstances, Maia would have liked the man. He had a habit of ripping her from her thoughts and making her think of something else when those thoughts started to head in the wrong direction. Wrong in this case being synonymous to if-this-is-what-I-think-it-is-I-want-a-lightning-to-strike-me-now. Only, thus far those new thoughts hadn't been promising, either. It was still a curious feeling, being able to think more clearly, but still having no say in the conversation. Veritaserum had crushed all her defensive floodgates. What a disgrace for a habitual liar like her. Maia was somewhat proud of her ability to weave falsities fast and credibly. Why see lies as something bad? They made things more interesting, were a way of forming and controlling reality. In words lay power.

"So, are you good at magic? A powerful witch?"

"My marks are mostly average. I'm better in more theoretical subjects. So, particularly powerful I am not. The practical part of subjects never comes easily to me"

" Theoretical subjects? Tell more."

"Well, I'm a whiz in languages and History of Magic. Teachers often praise my well-phrased and grammatically correct essays, too. I pride myself on my literary knowledge and skills.

"Is that so... History of Magic you say?"

Had Maia not been in the Veritaserum-induced stupor she probably would have bolted and plunged to her death through the window at those ominous words. The man started once again circling her and muttering to himself. The image of vulture fluttered through her consciousness again. The wizard had a decidedly Roman air to himself. The legendary nose was easily recognizable and not very different from that of Professor Snape. He wasn't very tall - 5 feet and nine inches or so. For a Roman, though, that would have been extremely tall if Maia remembered right. As she had Norse ancestors she was quite tall for a girl, only about an inch shorter than he. Maia never heard the end of it from her classmates. How Decima had crowed at it, comparing Maia to her elder sister. No! She couldn't think of them now, safe in somewhere.. somewhen, without a care in the world. Well, maybe they had cares, but she didn't feel like putting things in perspective.

Concentrating on the present, whenever that was, was more reasonable. From the previous room she remembered the other three. Their images had been burned in to Maia's mind's eye by the intensity of the situation. She could see them as clearly as if they were present. The blond man had been at least four inches taller than her present questioner, and more muscular. The women had been short, almost tiny, especially the elder one. Maia could have looked down on the two had she not been sprawling on the floor at the time.

While Maia was musing about the outlook of her only anchors to sanity, other humans, the man had been thinking. Not saying much, only muttering quietly to himself. She couldn't hear what he was saying. Now, however, he seemed to have decided to encage her in his little world again. Not to give any answers but ask questions again. The man was unreadable but Maia supposed he had an idea as what to make of her and that gave him advantage over the situation. She had barely been able to force herself to accept the fact that somehow she had ended up in the past. This was the real Salazar Slytherin.

There simply wasn't any other plausible explanation, not that this one was any more believable in her opinion. After all, Maia had been raised in the wizarding world and knew all too well that strange things happened. Knowing from history, Slytherin's reputation and way with people the other three people had to, then, have been Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff. Otherwise Slytherin probably would not have deigned to grace them with his presence and treated them as almost equals. If she had interpreted the situation correctly, being in somewhat unobservant state of mind then. She also knew that Slytherin was a descendant of Roman wizarding nobility. When Maia thought about it, it all fitted together like the pieces of puzzle which pictured a basilisk.

Maia had met the Founders. The Founders! This lead to a disturbing train of thought. Why on earth had the others abandoned her at the mercy of Salazar Slytherin? She could have been a Muggle-born for all they knew. Well, there was that Stupefy. She truly had no idea what had happened or how long she had been out. They could have discussed the matter thoroughly, or Slytherin could have cast some more Stupefies and finished it off with a couple of Obliviates.

No. That was not reasonable. Maia felt strangely betrayed, though that, too, was unreasonable.. She was a Slytherin and had cast snide remarks left and right back at home. Now she felt very unambitious, humble and wanted to bawl her sorrow for all to hear. But that would have been the ultimate gesture of a meek damsel. Fortunately she had no time for inner debate about to cry or not. Slytherin had suddenly removed her outer robes with a minute flick of his wand and regarded her now curiously.

"This is how the female students dress themselves in the future? Like harlots! Such short 'gown', for want of a better word? The fact that you were wearing my coat of arms in your chest suggests two things. Either you are my descendant or for some curious reason the students of my house have been given permission to wear it. I rather think the latter is correct in your case. Is this so?

"Yes. The house insignia were introduced in 1300s and have been in use since."

The Veritaserum had started to lose effect and Maia could choose her words again, but saw no reason to lie. She was good at it, but this was Salazar bloody Slytherin himself. He probably knew many ways of making her sorely regret such a mistake. The horror of the shock in the previous room had returned in full blast. Maia almost wished herself back to her own time, merrily on the way downwards. She could have been a wet spot in the making, but at least the laws of nature would have worked properly. Now, instead of 60 feet she had plunged through thousand years.

Slytherin spoke again.

"I'm beginning to understand this. You could not understand our speech, because the language has evolved during the millennium gone past. This means, that no one but myself can converse with you if I choose so. Your family doesn't exist in this time so there is no one to claim you. You are well trained in witchcraft, according to our own principles and could be further educated here and now. I can see that you are obviously a bit over the average intelligence, your reactions to the situation you found yourself abruptly reveal that much. Tell me, what happened before you appeared out of the blue in front of me and my colleagues. I might then enlighten you about your present situation and its practical consequences."

Maia told him briefly what had happened. At that Slytherin looked intrigued and told her to elaborate every single detail as she them remembered. Maia complied and it seemed that he had an idea of how she came to be here. That didn't mean that he told it to her. No, she was of course left in the dark. No one ever told anything to her at home, either. Once again Slytherin was silent for a long while.

"I want to make sure that you completely understand a few facts. As a member of your house you know that people are not kind to others if they cannot in some way benefit from it. If I were to throw you out you would not survive a month. Only strong females with our nobility behind them are free to do as they wish. Out there you would not be better off than a Muggle woman. Speaking of Muggles, I don't know about your time, though I will know soon, but nowadays the are extremely hostile towards magical folk. You would be persecuted, burned, raped and robbed. This has been the fate of many Muggle-born witches who had not been crafty enough to marry a wizard. Do you understand? I only bother with you with even this amount of civility because my spell revealed you to be a pureblood, if a bit contaminated on maternal side. "

Maia nodded mutely. Slytherin was correct. Frighteningly, coldly correct.

"Just to make sure that you would not get in your head to appeal to my colleagues I let you know that they gave you over to me. I will reveal them your origins in a light suitable to me. I cannot let you have more of that potion for its existence is a secret. In your robes you had my coat of arms which convinced even Gryffindor that I had the primary claim on you. Do not expect anything from them - we made a pact when we founded this school to keep peace among such an eclectic group of people. They know that your case is rightfully mine and will not do anything for a stranger to hazard the existence of this school. Do you follow me?"

A nod seemed to be a convenient reply again. Maia's mind was boggling from the information and the reality of her situation. This would require careful thought later, when and if she was capable of it. Slytherin had made it more than clear that her existence and possibilities in this time lay solely in his hands.

"Good that you have no problems in seeing reason. I will now call a house-elf to take you to rest. I suppose you know what they are, disgusting creatures, but useful sometimes. I shall have to think of this more. Here is your wand as you know using it unwisely would be...unwise. "An emotionless smile. "I will send books to you about some things here. Do you know any translative spells? "

With that, Maia was led into the night in the tenth century.