All Things in Time

Chapter One

At Destiny's Door

Through the darkest of nights,

To a forest of frights.

A Dark enchantment is cast,

The world I knew now is past.

A journey has begun,

The door is sealed through which I've come.

Will the road I follow lead me home,

Or to worse things than I've yet known?

To destiny's path I know I'm bound,

Alas, I fear, a foe I've found.

A dark stranger here awaits,

And there's a joining of our fates.

Ahead, a castle most immense,

It's all kept safe, no guards, no fence.

The stranger beckons me inside,

To this place where his secrets hide.

Wherever I go magic finds me,

I struggle, but still I'm not free.

Within these walls perhaps I'll grow,

And return home with what I know.

Lyssanne was running now, or as close to running as one could in such a thick tangle of branches. Her pursuer was gaining ground rapidly, obviously a person much taller than she. Of course, nearly everyone over the age of 10 fit that description.

Her knees grew wobbly as the events of the past two hours began to take their toll. Her fear for Gareth and her frantic race to find him, the confrontation at the ruins, and her unexpected journey to this place - each ripped a new hole in the wineskin of her energy reserves. Now this flight through the forest was certainly not improving matters. But still she ran. For, even if she could, by some miracle, elude her pursuer, to remain trapped among these trees was quite likely to insure that she became the next meal for whatever creature kept uttering that unearthly howl. Oh, Lyssanne had reminded herself that wild creatures surely feared her more than she feared them, but she was no huntress and had no means of defense should apprehension turn to appetite.

As Lyssanne swung to the left, narrowly escaping a collision with a massive tree, she caught a glimpse of a billowing black cloak and ebony hair.

"Funestra," she breathed.

It wasn't enough that the evil witch had, by some dark power, sent her to this terrifying place - now she had followed as well. Escaping the sorceress would be impossible in this forest.

Lyssanne's thoughts were interrupted as a shadow, darker than the rest, suddenly loomed directly in her path. As she came to an abrupt halt, she noticed that the figure was brandishing a weapon of some sort, shorter than a sword, yet longer than a dagger. Though the darkness mostly obscured the object, she had seen a glint of light reflected off something slender and black. Whatever the thing was, it was pointed directly at her heart.

"Don't move. It could be your last step."

The voice was silky, low, and very definitely male. The words were spoken with such deadly calm that a chill ran up Lyssanne's spine. Not Funestra, she thought, perhaps I shall survive this. She clung to that fleeting ray of hope as the man took a menacing step forward.

"Explain your presence here," he said, shifting the object in his hand ominously.

Who was this man, a dark knight guarding his lands or those of his liege? She could not see his face, as his features were shrouded in shadow. His commanding words had been spoken with a confidence and authority that indicated power as lethal as a double-edged sword. Lyssanne took a shuddering breath, attempting to calm her racing heart, and spoke in as steady a voice as she could muster considering her recent exertion and fear.

"Please good sir, you need no weapon against me," she responded, affecting a small curtsey. "I assure you, I intend neither harm nor trespass."

"And I am supposed to be foolish enough to believe a stranger whom I have never seen? Who are you? Who sent you and what are you doing here at this hour?"

He had asked who sent her. Did he suspect -? Could he possibly know that Funestra had somehow instantly transported her here, possibly miles from the place she had been? No, that was inconceivable. Still, she must choose her words carefully. Lyssanne knew the penalty for anyone suspected to be in any way involved with sorcery. The Inquisition cared not whether one was a victim or perpetrator of magic; the penalty was often the same. She dared not say anything to give this man, be he knight, nobleman, or poacher, further cause to mistrust her. She knew all too well that her very life depended on the goodwill of the stranger before her.

"I - I fear I have lost my way." She was now gazing at her feet. "I only sought to find the border of this dreadful wood."

"These woods are not exactly the most welcoming place for a wandering stranger. Perhaps, if you are not some sort of assassin, I should take you to Hogwarts and we can sort things out there."

The man stepped forward as if he were going to run right into Lyssanne. She backed away somewhat timidly. His strides were full of purpose and a strength she feared. Yet he had not harmed her, but still he held some kind of weapon, poised and ready.

"Follow me, and I suggest that you do not lag behind. There are creatures in this forest who would be far more curious to get to know you than I am." He emphasized the word know, and Lyssanne was certain that, whatever creatures they might be, she wouldn't be having tea with them.

***

He could tell the girl was struggling to keep pace with his much longer strides. She could not have been much taller than the average Hogwarts first year, though it was difficult for him to determine her age in the darkened woods. He slowed to a stop just before the tree line, where moonlight was just visible through the leaves. The girl, lady, or whatever she was - Severus did not know - moved quietly alongside him. Did she fear him? He did not know and perhaps he did not care.

"What, may I ask, is your name?" he hissed.

"Lyssanne," she answered in a small voice. "What is this Hogwarts you spoke of?"

She seemed an odd sort to him. It was unclear whether she was a witch or a Muggle. She seemed quite mugglish not knowing about Hogwarts and staring quite fixedly at his wand, but there was also something special about her. Something Severus could not quite put his finger on.

"Hogwarts," he said, gesturing before him as they emerged from the trees.

She gasped audibly and paused, probably to take in the castle's magnificence, for a moment. Severus was now quite sure she was totally unfamiliar with the school; for, had she known of it, or seen pictures of it, she could not have shown such an astonished reaction to the sight of it. Severus would know if she was hiding something. He was, after all, the wizarding world's most talented spy, wasn't he? The look of awe and wonder on her face was one Severus had seen on the faces of Muggles many times, usually right before they would need to have their memories wiped after seeing the simplest of magical acts. But then, the same look could be seen on Ronald Weasley's face at various times throughout his years as a Hogwarts potions' student.

"Oh, it is beautiful! And so many inhabitants," she breathed, gazing with wonder at the many lighted windows. "But, where are the guards?"

"We have other, more subtle, ways of protecting what is ours from those whom we find to be unwelcome."

She lowered her head and silently followed him toward the castle. He could not understand why she insisted on walking a few paces behind him. He stopped abruptly to eye her. After all, she could be carrying weapons he was unable to see, or even be from another land with magic foreign to him. The latter was quite unlikely, because Severus had studied abroad and considered himself well versed in the many forms of magic.

"Is my presence so objectionable to you that you cannot bring yourself to walk beside me?"

"Not at all, but to do so would be unseemly, Milord. Am I, a mere peasant, to enter your lands, your home as though I presume to be your equal?" she replied.

"I insist."

"I dare not! You are obviously a person of great importance, while I - I am nothing." Though her voice trembled and her eyes remained downcast, she spoke with great conviction.

Severus's patience was waning. This...this Lyssanne was the strangest person he had known thus far. She was certainly making him quite suspicious. The girl had a peculiar way of speaking. What would Dumbledore think? Of course it probably didn't matter, as Dumbledore liked everyone. Even he, Severus, had a place in the old man's heart.

"If you wish to enter the castle under your own power, you will walk either beside or ahead of me. Is that clear, Lyssanne?"

Apparently his statement was clear because the girl began quietly walking beside him. He thought it strange that, although she seemed to speak the oddest form of English he had ever heard, she could still understand his most common dialect quite well.

She hesitated halfway up the steps. With a swirl of his dark robes, he turned a questioning gaze upon her. He stood several steps above her, making her seem even smaller than before. There was a look of apprehension on her face as she gazed up at him.

"M-might I be so bold as to request...due to the lateness of the hour, and since I am unsure in which direction lies my home...w-would you be so kind as to allow...might I possibly work in your kitchens on the morrow in exchange for shelter from the night?"

Her eyes held a fearful plea with the tiniest spark of hope. He had seen that look many times on the faces of hardened Death Eaters as they stood before their master, hoping they had said or done nothing to incite his wrath.

"Work in our kitchens? Surely the headmaster would never expect a guest in the castle to do such nonsense."

"Headmaster? And -"

"If you would discontinue your endless chatter, those things we feel should be revealed to you, will be, in a short time." He turned and continued up the stairs. "Enter." He felt like he was repeating himself as he gestured in front of him, but he was in no mood to deal with this meddlesome stranger.

They stepped into the entrance hall. Severus gestured Lyssanne forward once more and followed closely behind her. She tottered on her feet almost unbalancing herself. Quickly he reached to steady her.

"Thank you," she whispered quite breathlessly.

Gazing down at her he realized that she was no child, but a young woman. She was petite, yet not skinny. Her flowing coppery-blond hair nearly reached her waist and was tangled in several places with leaves. The robe, or gown, she wore seemed to be composed of two layers. A modest, white under-robe with long narrow sleeves, flared at the wrists, was covered by a tan, sleeveless garment, made of some coarse material, which flared gently from the waist into a floor-length flowing skirt. The girl - no, woman - had a heart-shaped face with the most vivid blue eyes he had ever seen. Her face, Severus noticed, appeared a shade too pale in comparison with the rest of her alabaster skin. She must be ill, he thought, hoping he wouldn't have to keep her from falling over every ten steps.

"This way," he said, his tone holding slightly less contempt than it had previously. "I believe we should pay a visit to the headmaster." Turning on his heel, he led the way down the corridor.

***

Flickering torchlight illuminated the shadowy corridors of Hogwarts as Lyssanne half walked; half ran to keep up with her escort. She made a futile attempt to note landmarks along the way. Once, she thought she saw the subject of a portrait yawn as she passed. She supposed the wavering shadows and her hurried pace were playing tricks on her eyes. Catching fleeting glimpses of polished wood or gleaming stone, she marveled at how many servants it must take to keep this enormous fortress so spotless. The entrance hall alone could hold the inhabitants of her entire village! The landlord of Hogwarts must possess the wealth of a king. She wondered whether the man she now followed was the lord of Hogwarts, or perhaps it was this headmaster he had mentioned.

Suddenly, Lyssanne realized that she had lost sight of her raven-haired companion around the next corner. Knowing he would be displeased were she to lag behind, she quickened her pace. She certainly did not wish to become lost in this labyrinth of corridors and stairways. Once more catching sight of his billowing black cloak, she mused that he seemed to glide on air, his steps making absolutely no sound. He reminded Lyssanne of a panther prowling the night; all grace and confidence, yet poised to pounce at a moment's notice.

As they rounded another corner, she briefly caught sight of his profile. He was, she supposed, not really handsome in the usual sense. His angular features and hooked nose were a bit too harsh to be considered aristocratic, yet the paleness of his complexion indicated that he was not of the laboring peasant class. In addition, his appearance, like this castle, was impeccably clean...except for his rather oily hair. From this, and the superior manner in which he had spoken to her, she gathered that he must at least be a knight of very high rank. Whoever he was, he was a mystery to her. For the first time in her life, Lyssanne had encountered a person whose emotions were completely unknown to her. Even with the contact of his hand as he had steadied her in the entrance hall, she could sense only that he seemed haunted by something.

Abruptly they came to a halt before an enormous stone gargoyle, which gave Lyssanne an uneasy feeling. The man beside her mumbled something strange about bubbles, mice, and cream, and the massive statue suddenly leapt aside. This caused her to jump a full pace backward.

"W-what, how-?" she stammered.

"Follow me," he commanded.

Lyssanne entered the circular alcove that housed a flight of spiraling stone stairs. She attempted to peer around the gargoyle, wondering where the people or mechanism that had moved it might be hiding.

"The stairs won't bite you, and the headmaster is waiting. There is only one way to his office."

Her companion gestured toward the stairway.

Turning to face the stairs, Lyssanne noticed for the first time that they appeared to be moving! Shaking her head slightly to clear it, she took a tentative step onto the first stair. She felt the stone move upward and nearly lost her balance.

The man reached out a hand to steady her should it be needed, but did not touch her. They moved slowly upward.

The ornately carved door at the top of the stairs swung open as they reached it. This time the knight, or whoever he was, moved on ahead of her, which made Lyssanne feel a bit more at ease. After all, she was not entirely certain she wanted to enter a room whose doors opened of their own accord. They entered what seemed to be a circular chamber, though her view was largely obscured by the tall figure in front of her.

"Ah, Severus, you have returned," commented a gentle male voice from across the room.

Lyssanne thought she detected a slight note of relief in the man's tone. Though she could not presently see him, Lyssanne imagined the speaker to be a refined, elder gentleman.

As they moved farther into the room, Lyssanne's companion nodded slightly in response. He stepped to the side, allowing her full view of the chamber and its only other occupant, who was seated behind a massive polished desk. She did not have the opportunity to consider her surroundings, however, as the dark man at her side was now speaking.

"Headmaster," he said, addressing the silver-haired man behind the desk, "I found this...woman...Lyssanne, wandering the forest near the school grounds." He paused and cleared his throat slightly. "I am unsure whether she has a proper surname as she has yet to inform me of it."

"Caelestis," she quickly replied, looking up at the man beside her, "Lyssanne Caelestis." She said this, naturally, accompanied by a curtsey, customary for such introductions.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Caelestis." The kind voice immediately drew her attention to the wizened gentleman - who, she noticed, was now standing. "I am Albus Dumbledore. Welcome to Hogwarts."

Lyssanne noticed for the first time that their host wore long robes made of some shimmering purple material that was shot through with silvery stars. His half-moon spectacles glistened in front of kind, wise-looking blue eyes. Dyed garments and spectacles were quite costly and very rare, she mused. Mr. Thinsby, the town friar and former clerk to the king, owned the only other pair of eyeglasses she had ever seen. He had told her once that the extraordinary tool had been imported from Italy. Lyssanne was also quite curious about the unusually long style of both men's robes. They did not wear the hose and shorter tunics customary throughout the kingdom.

"Thank you, Lord Dumbledore." She replied, greeting him with a curtsey and a smile.

"I believe, my dear," he responded, chuckling, "that Professor will suffice."

"Oh, I -" she trailed off, unsure of what to say next. She thought the peculiar title was used in some elite circles to address masters of academic instruction, but she was not certain.

"As you have already met Professor Severus Snape, shall we all be seated?" He gestured to two soft chairs, which she was almost certain had not been there a moment before.

Once they were seated, he offered her something he called a "lemon drop" from a crystal dish. Not wishing to appear impolite or ungrateful, Lyssanne accepted the tiny candy. She was certain her face must have portrayed her sudden surprise at the strong burst of lemon flavor.

"So, what brings you to our door tonight?" Dumbledore asked in a kind, mildly curious voice that held no hint of accusation.

Unwilling to reveal more, she simply described her unsuccessful attempts to find her way out of the forest.

"I daresay I would have remained in that wood for all eternity if not for the appearance of Lord Snape."

Hearing a sudden rustling of cloth to her left, she turned in the direction of the man who had, quite possibly, saved her life. The look of disdain on his face as he gazed at her gave Lyssanne the impression that she had once more misspoken.

"Is it Sir Severus, then?" she attempted. However, he only raised one black brow at this. "It seems, Sir, that I am at a loss as to the proper manner in which I should address you."

"Professor Snape is fine as we are not yet acquainted on a first name basis." He said scowling.

"It was then," she continued, addressing Dumbledore, "that Professor Snape brought me to this grand castle." Turning to her left once more, she added in a soft voice, "A thing for which I am most grateful." As she spoke, she looked, for the first time, directly into her rescuer's dark eyes, hoping to convey the sincerity of her words. But, like two inkwells at opposite ends of a scribe's desk, his eyes seemed to wait for something else, something more, before they would write any emotion across his face.

"Perhaps, after a night's rest, we shall be able to assist you in returning to your home," Dumbledore suggested. "Where, by the way, do you reside?"

"Llytlesby," she replied. "It is a small village in the western province."

"The western province," Dumbledore paused, staring speculatively at his folded hands, "of France?"

"Not France," she clarified, "the western province of Lastarra." Lyssanne silently mused that, apparently, Funestra had transported her out of the kingdom entirely.

"I have never heard of such a land. Surely you don't think us fools?" Professor Snape's words were spoken in an icy, superior tone.

"Oh, not at all! But, I assure you, it does exist." Lyssanne looked from one professor to the other, hoping for some sign of recognition. "I have been told that it is a relatively small kingdom, though I would not know about such things. I have never left the boarders of my village. Until now, that is."

"Which brings me to my final question," Dumbledore said, with a brief, skeptical glance at Severus. "How did you come to be in the Forbidden Forest tonight?"

"I - I am not exactly certain." Lyssanne couldn't look at him as she said this, though it was true, if not the truth in its entirety. She honestly didn't know how Funestra had managed to send her here.

"Well, perhaps after a good night of rest the mystery will reveal itself," the grandfatherly professor offered. "Do you have any questions before we show you to your room?"

"None come to mind at present, except -" she paused, wondering if it would be impolite to pry. "Did I hear correctly, that this magnificent castle houses a school?" When he merely nodded, she continued. "If I may be so bold, I'd simply like to say that to open one's home to children for the purpose of learning is, perhaps, one of the most noble deeds of which I have yet had the privilege to know."

"While I would heartily agree, I should let you know that neither Professor Snape nor I can claim ownership of this fine castle. Though I suppose, in a way, it belongs to all of us." Dumbledore spoke with a twinkle in his eye that revealed a genuine love of this place. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has stood on these grounds for the past thousand years and was constructed solely for the purpose of education."

"D-did you say witchcraft?" she asked incredulously. Surely she had heard wrong. However, at Dumbledore's nod she felt all the blood drain suddenly from her face. "As in - as in sorcery?"

"I suppose that is one way of putting it, yes." Though his voice remained calm and kind, it had lost the merriment of a moment ago.

"But that's - how can - if anyone -" she stammered, no longer able to keep the fear and shock from her voice. Her mind was a whirlwind of fragmented thought. First the mist and Funestra, then all that spinning, being lost in a strange land, and now this - it was all too much. The room tilted and she grasped her chair arms with white-knuckled hands. "That - that means you are..."

"Yes, both Severus and I are wizards," he replied in a very serious tone. As he spoke all the colors in the room seemed to intensify and merge together.

"And the children?" she whispered shakily as a white haze began to obscure her vision.

"All possess the gift of magic," he confirmed. His voice sounded as though it was coming to her from the bottom of a deep well.

Could this be real? Had she escaped death at Funestra's hands only to fall into the clutches of an entire community of sorcerers? This was her last thought as she slipped into blackness.

***

As Lyssanne slowly returned to consciousness, she became aware of a warm wall at her back and the support of a strong arm around her middle. Blinking her eyes slowly, she saw the blurred image of something small moving toward her.

She heard a soft voice somewhere above her and noted only that it was vaguely familiar. She thought absently that the man spoke with a bit more kindness, or at least a little less coldness, than usual.

"Drink," he said handing her a goblet.

Lyssanne attempted to reach for the goblet with far too-shaky hands, even as a small part of her mind warned that, perhaps, to do so would be unwise. However, she was far too weak to protest and could only comply as the goblet was tipped for her. Whatever she had expected, it had not been this peppery liquid that now burned its way down her throat. She coughed delicately and blinked her eyes. Leaning her head back once more against what she now knew to be a shoulder, she realized that the voice she had heard belonged to the man who had rescued her from the forest. She closed her eyes and felt a soft sigh escape as a sense of safety washed over her. Suddenly, a shudder rocked her body from head to foot, as the warm substance began to dispel the internal chill she hadn't even noticed moments before. The arm around her middle tightened ever so slightly.

She thought vaguely that she must have fainted, for she now noticed the cold stone floor beneath her. Someone must have prevented her head from hitting the hard stone as she had slipped from her chair. Waves of memory suddenly hit her like a bucket of cold river water. The man who now supported her was a sorcerer! Lifting her head, she flinched slightly and would have shrank from him had she possessed the strength to move. At that same moment, she saw him place a small vial of some sort into a pocket in his robe. What foul potion had he given her? It was unlikely to be poison, her mind reasoned, as she was still alive and even now felt her strength slowly beginning to return.

Lyssanne struggled to sit up, and Professor Snape released her, placing a hand at her shoulder to steady her still-wobbly frame.

"Are you all right, my dear?" asked the man known as Dumbledore, now coming into view.

"I - yes, I think so," she replied somewhat tremulously.

"Severus, as soon as Miss Caelestis is ready to stand, will you show her to the guest room nearest the old Slytherin staircase?"

"Certainly," Professor Snape replied silkily.

After several minutes passed, Lyssanne felt ready to rise and was grateful for the professor's assistance in getting to the chambers she was to use for the night