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Chapter 28 - Searching for History
🕑 Added 2022-06-19 09:52:48 +0000 UTCProfessor Flitwick nods agreeably and invites me in, the door to his office swinging open. Sarah hesitates from behind me, and I grab her hand in a last second decision.
If I’m going to start revealing myself, I may as well do it well.
I take a seat at his desk, holding onto Sarah’s hand tightly. She squeezes back.
Professor Flitwick pulls himself into his chair and looks over me kindly. “What is it you want to talk about, Miss Hawthorne?”
“It needs to remain private, sir. No portraits, no one can know but us. It’s not about the troll.”
His brow now furrows, obviously not expecting that answer. He casts some spells and irritated portrait inhabitants vacate their frames, huffing as they go. I watch a thin sheen of ward magic go over the walls before they clear to something invisible.
“Right,” I begin, rallying myself. “I’ll begin with the obvious, which actually is the troll, but not the point of this. I saw Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley after I was elbowed in the head by an older student and worried why they were going away from the Gryffindor Tower. As there was no one around, I followed them but lost them in all the people. I found them right as the troll had been downed.”
Professor Flitwick nods slowly. “Okay. Continue.”
“This may not be believable to you, but I swear it happened. I time travelled. To the Founders era.”
There’s complete silence. After some silence, he speaks again. “Time travel? That’s not possible without a time turner.”
“I don’t know how I did it exactly. But I have proof.”
With that, I slip the note from Salazar Slytherin out of my Inventory pocket and hand it over to him, taking my hand back from Sarah as I go. I stay straight-backed in my chair, watching as he casts spells on the letter and reads it carefully.
“This is…”
“It’s not a fake.”
“I can see that,” he slowly says. “I’m just confused as to how this happened.”
“I don’t know sir. It seems like it’s going to happen again.”
“Explain to me from the start how this happened.”
I launch into my tale of accidentally being sent back in time, starting with going back to ‘witness’ the fight between Zadgar that cursed Helga Hufflepuff, followed by coming back with no injuries but dirty clothes. Then, months went by and I had expected it to never happen again, only to be launched back again by trying to go into a room in Gryffindor Tower.
I have to explain that situation, where he tells me he knows the elves recently sealed a room in the castles and Professor Dumbledore was aware an unknown student found it. This helps to verify my story. Then, I explain my exipades with Slytherin fighting his son, though I leave out my battles.
“It seems like I’ll go back again,” I conclude, “as Slytherin obviously knew me from my future. I don’t know how to control it though.”
“You came back without injury that time also?”
“Yes, but I have scars,” I admit. “They’re fully healed.”
“Show me.”
I do so, not at all embarrassed. He looks me over and asks my permission to cast spells on my scars. He doesn’t tell me what it does, but I recognise them as diagnostic and healing spells.
“What do you think I should do?” I ask.
“Well,” he sighs, taking his seat once more, “I think we should inform the headmaster.”
“I don’t want him to know,” I tell him firmly. “I want to keep it quiet. Professor Dumbledore might tell other people and they’ll tell more people and then everyone will know. I don’t want people to know I can randomly time travel.”
He sighs and removes his glasses. “I understand, though I would prefer he knew. I admit, I don’t know what I’m meant to do with a student that can move through time.”
I crack a smile. “Did you know, the statue of Ravenclaw in the Common Room has a note in the head.”
“Yes, all the staff… that note refers to you, then.”
“I think so.”
He nods more suredly now. “Okay. Considering there is nothing I can do right now, are there any other laws of magic you want to break, today?”
I grin, kicking my legs childishly. “Nah, only on big magic days like this one. It’s a shame I can’t be here for the Summer Solstice.”
His eyes widen. “This happens on magical days?”
I nod, making the connection at the same moment he did. “Yes! Last year during the Easter Solistile, that’s when I went back for the first time! And then today is Samhain. Slytherin said I was a few years older from his memory… but I’m not going back in order.”
“Yes, that does make things more difficult,” he mutters. “Perhaps I could see if there are any journals on an Aubrey Temporan and we can see if that leads us anywhere. Though I wonder why you’d use that name.”
I can already predict why. “Because of this. I mean, if there are any traces of someone from this time there, I can’t use my real name, right?”
He nods. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”
“I was really worried when it was happening in case I changed anything.”
“Do you think you did?”
“I don’t know, sir. I’ve never studied the fight between Slytherin Senior and Junior. I didn’t even know there was a Junior. I’ve only heard some mentions of Slytherin being thrown out of Hogwarts, and I suppose I always assumed they meant the Senior.”
He steeples his fingers. “I won’t claim to know the exact history,” he says, “but I suggest you research it between now and Sunday, at which time we can meet. I will have checked for mentions of this in the Hogwarts Journals by then.”
I agree readily, glancing at a very shell shocked Sarah. I give her a smile and she manages one back.
“In that case, enjoy the feast, girls. I’m sure you both have much to discuss. Oh and Miss Hawthorne? Ten Points from Ravenclaw for disobeying the Headmaster and putting yourself in danger. But ten Points to Ravenclaw for aiding a Founder.”
I blink, surprised at his readiness to believe my wild story. I thank him and drag Sarah away.
.*****.
“Hey, Sarah?” I ask, getting a noncommittal noise in response. “You doing okay?”
“Fine, don’t worry about it.” She says quietly. Her tone indicates this is a lie, but I know pushing won’t do anything so I give her a hum of understanding and continue my morning routine.
Ever since she heard about the time travel stuff - patently impossible with magic as we know it - she has been acting like this. Any time I ask how she’s doing - or something even tangentially related comes up, she shuts down, hard. Just going somewhere else, mentally.
So I change the subject.
“The troll incident was rather interesting, I think. The idea that the Granger girl would go out, I don’t quite believe that story, not with how she’s been all year.” I pivot, and get a more enthusiastic hum.
“I think so too, it’s a bit hard to believe that, but maybe she did it because she wanted to prove she was really a Gryffindor?” She repostes, and I internally sigh. How can I explain that I saw part of the incident, and knew roughly what had happened. Also the rumours that she was crying in a bathroom, wasn’t at the feast… well.
It’s easy to figure out what happened when you look at all the information, but I’d already considered these arguments, and it would show a lot of my ability which I think would only disturb Sarah more. Maybe not my Slytherin friends, but certainly Sarah and most of the others.
I glance at my desk, where a draft of my letter for Harry sits, before swiping it off the desk and tossing it into the fire. The thing is a bit too clinical and not something which I think would be well received. I’ll need to revise my approach, again.
I’m good at getting the information across, but it’s too personal, or too impersonal. I want to have a very strong draft for everyone to look over when we go over it as a group.
It doesn’t matter that I don’t have the group this week due to scheduling conflicts, I still should get my work done so I can deliver it to them in a one-on-one capacity.
I sigh, and continue down to the Great Hall for Breakfast. I am, as usual, one of the very first to arrive.
I watch as others come in, while eating, and notice something odd.
Snape, it seems, is limping from something. Observe merely tells me he has a leg wound, but no details. He’s too much higher of a level than I am for me to get any extra information.
With a sigh, I finish breakfast, and go out to do some work before classes. As I exit the great hall, I can’t help but notice Hermione is sitting on Harry’s opposite side from Ron - indicating she doesn’t want to interact with him so much - but is happily chatting away with the two boys about something or another.
Well, that ended in a decent way.
.*****.
When Sunday comes, Sarah is finally at the point of believing my story. For a time there, she was certain I was lying, but when she saw me doing the research and making my notes, she came around.
“Did you find anything?” She whispers to me as I’m leaving the library.
“No. I can’t find anything about a Slytherin Junior. I’m going to have to ask the Bloody Baron.”
“What?” She cries, now in the safety of an empty corridor. “You can’t! They say he killed people.”
“Perhaps he did, but he’s a ghost now,” I point out. “Anyway, I’m not scared of him. He might know something, so I have to ask.”
She splutters for a moment before beginning her argument again. “Well, how would the Bloody Baron even help us?”
“He went to Hogwarts at the time of the Founders. Meaning he was interacting with them and their children. If anyone is still around today that can tell us solid facts about Slytherin Junior, it’s him.”
Of course, there’s also the Founders portraits, but I don’t know if I want to give up that much information yet. Plus, I get the feeling they won’t tell me anything, so I may as well save myself the headache and work it all out myself.
Sarah huffs but seems out of steam, so just follows me down to the dungeons and down the path I know is towards the Slytherin Common Room.
I don’t know which one of our Luck Statistics cause Draco Malfoy to be around the corner we turn, but it puts us far too close together.
“Watch it!” He sneers, stepping back. “Oh. It’s you. The girl from the train. Hawthorne, right?”
I steel myself and give him the barest of nods. “It’s Miss Hawthorne, thank you.”
He scoffs a laugh, which his lackeys Crabbe and Goyle copy. “Do you hear that, boys? It’s Miss Hawthorne. Okay then, Miss Hawthorne,” he mocks, “I have a deal for you. I know you’re helping Greengrass, so you can help me too. I want your notes.”
How the hell did he find that out? “I have a trade agreement with Daphne regarding those notes. I don’t with you. If I were to give you my resources, I’d expect something equal in return.”
He thinks it over for the surprisingly long time of half a second. “Okay. Like what?”
I raise an eyebrow. “That’s for you to work out, Malfoy. Until then, those notes are none of your business.”
He sneers. “Well, how about this then. You give me your notes, or my father will have yours fired.”
Both my eyebrows raise in incredulity of his audacity. “Oh, really?”
His smirk returns. “Yes. So you better do what I say.”
I step into his space before we can retreat. “You can try,” I whisper into his face icily, “But I’ll know who did it, and we’ll follow it up. Now, you might like to act-” he took a step back and I follow him, his guards backing up in fright “-like you can control the world, but my family is as old as yours and not nearly-” he retreats again, and I follow “-as dragged through shit as yours.”
His whole face is white. “My family is the power powerful in-”
“Your family,” I continue in my icy voice, but I don’t follow him as he retreats again, “has lied to you about your power. You are nothing.”
He growls despite his fear of me getting in his face and pulls his wand on me. “Oh yeah? You’re just a Half-blood girl, I can take you!”
I snort a laugh. “The same way you’ve flown your whole life? Rumour has it, you didn’t even know how to sit on a broom properly until Hogwarts.”
I sidestep his spell, knowing Sarah is standing out of the way also as I expected him to do this, but I don’t expect the following:
“Mr Malfoy!” Professor Flitwick snaps. “Put your wand away this instance.”
“Professor!” He whirls around. “It’s not my fault sir - she was saying things about my family!”
Professor Flitwick looks at him narrowly. “That may be, but you do not have the right to cast spells at students in this school. Twenty Points from Slytherin.”
“Sir! Hawthorne was mocking me and insulted my parents!”
He purses his lips. “Is that right, Miss Hawthorne?”
“He attempted to blackmail me into giving him my study notes, saying he’d have his father get mine fired. I only told him that his parents have clearly exaggerated about the power they hold, as that could be very illegal, and I’m sure Mr Malfoy wouldn’t be criminalising his family name like that at school, hm?”
Malfoy clams up quickly, realising I have the upper hand in this argument. Knowing what I do of the boy already from this year and his antics, I expect this won’t be the last I’ll be hearing about it, but for now, Professor Flitwick deems both of us were as bad as each other and neither of us are further punished. With a small reminder we have a meeting later, he sends us on our way, which I claim is to the potions laboratory to pre-prepare the ingredients recently shipped to the school for lessons.
With that, me and Sarah are alone again.
“What was that?” She whispers, following me to the potions lab. “We don’t need to do this?”
“I know. It was a cover,” I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t about to get us in detention after he threatened me.”
She hesitates before speaking. “You were sort of mean to him.”
I smile at my friend, my heart softening at how sweet she is even in the face of someone like Malfoy. “I know, but he began the argument. You can’t back down to a person like Malfoy, Sarah. They don’t stop until you make them. His father’s the same in politics. A part of Wizarding Families, at least the old ones, is that each has their own secrets and traits. For the Malfoys, it’s often been blackmail and coercion, though they used to have more tact.”
She blinks at me a few times as she figures it all out in her head. “So, what, you weren’t really arguing about notes then?”
“He likely was, because he’s an eleven year old spoiled brat that's been given everything he wants from day one,” I explain. “But I was putting him back in his place. He can’t use the stuff his family’s been training him to do on me. It won’t work. The faster family’s make their stance clear to one another, the easier our lives are.”
She nods slowly. “I feel like that’s a whole other area I know nothing about.”
I shrug delicately. “Don’t worry, I’ll find some books on it, or I’ll teach you myself. And so you know, if Malfoy ever tries anything on you, you can tell him to take it up with me. You’re my friend, and I’ll protect you.”
She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t need protection.”
“I mean from his blackmail. Don’t worry, as long as he doesn't do it, it won’t matter. Come on, we still need to find the Baron.”
We wander in search of him until I demand we visit a bathroom so I can check my map. After finding the ghost in some of the older parts of the castle I know aren’t frequented anymore, I drag Sarah off over there where I think we should cross paths.
“Are you sure about this?” Sarah asks nervously as I stand in a small open area that was once a sitting area or smaller library. “I feel like we’re breaking some rules here.”
“I’m pretty sure time travel also breaks some rules, so we have to get answers,” I tell her as kindly as I can. “When we’ve spoken to him, we’ll go back to the Common Room and do something you want to. I promise.”
She nods after a moment, though it isn’t like I’m going anywhere now I’m here.
Sarah begins to shuffle awkwardly and then with impatience as the minutes tick by. I’m debating internally if I should take Sarah back to the bathroom so I can check the map again when The Baron floats through the wall directly opposite me, his expression turning from one of melancholy to strict narrow eyes. I wonder if it’s at all surprising for him to find students in these long abandoned dungeon corridors.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he rasps, a bit angrily. I’ve only heard him speak one other time, and that was when he was shouting at us before our Sorting. “What on earth do you think you’ll find this deep in the dungeons? It is strictly forbidden to be here.”
“It isn’t actually,” I comment easily, having been preparing myself for this since I realised I’d have to speak to him. “The charter actually encourages us to explore the castle. There’s six pages on it.”
He’s so startled by my blunt words, he actually takes half a second to reply. “So is that why you’re here? Exploring? Because I think you look as if you have something to say.”
“I do,” I nod, getting more serious. “I need to learn about something important. From back in your time.”
His face instantly hardens, his eyes hardening beyond anything I’ve managed even at my most deadly - I’m genuinely impressed, though not at all put off. “I will not answer incessant questions about my death from some little girl, so why don’t you-”
“You misunderstand, sir,” I interrupt quickly, sidestepping so he can’t float through me. “I want to know something about the Founders. Something very specific. I swear it isn’t about you.”
“Make it quick,” he growls, facing the wall, ready to glide through it the second he’s done with me.
“It’s about Salazar Slytherin’s son. You were at Hogwarts during the Founders' time, and I want to know what happened. I know that Slytherin Elder and Junior had a fight, and I know Junior was-”
“How do you know about that?”
His question is asked with such quiet suspicion I stop in my tracks. “I saw it.”
He turns now, his ghostly apparition illuminating almost as much as my wandlight. “You saw it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And her?”
“Sarah’s my friend. But she didn’t see what I did, no.”
He looks down at me critically, right into my eyes. I have to fight not to look away from him. “The vision you talk of is correct. Slytherin, the senior, threw his son out after a grave betrayal.”
“What happened?” Sarah whispers so quietly, I think she didn’t mean to. The Bloody Baron and I both glance at her, and she goes bright red.
“Slytherin’s son killed Godric Gryffindor’s and Rowena Ravenclaw’s heirs and heiress’,” he states. “It was after I… He killed over a hundred children your age and turned them to undead creatures the other students were forced to cut down. He was the first glorious Lord of the Dark in this place. And, my original master.”
My entire prediction of what he would say scatters as he reveals this. I nod, and, seeing me and Sarah are suitably enraptured, continues.
“He found me, after the banishment of his followers, and after I died in my quest for redemption, impossible though it was.” He cackles, seeing Sarah go white in teror. “Indeed! The Lord Founder of his house banished him, set the wards against him, destroyed his ability to come back in, and so he made his famed Chamber of Secrets. However, Lord Slytherin ensured those who would follow in his footsteps - those worthy of his legacy - could finish his work. His foolish father never knew, and may his soul be blasted in the darkest pits of Hell for his betrayal of my Lord.” He concludes the mad diatribe, the evil leer suffusing his already unhandsome face into a mask of unlovable, truly repugnant scorn.
“I see,” I say slowly, grasping Sarah’s hand when she puts it in mine. Her fear, and his obvious disgusting nature, won out in the end - a sneer formed over my lips and my wand grew brighter from my rage. “You must have done great evil, indeed, under your Lord. A shame that he was kicked out, his creations ruined by the good Founder, his father, and myself. A puny Second Year girl able to break the laws of spacetime and destroy his attempt at upheaval. No wonder your quest was impossible. Such an incompetent lord could corral only the most inept of servants.”
“You will not speak to me in that way, child,” he growls, his face growing rageful also.
“You are undoubtedly no small part of the Slytherin House producing so many vile Witches and Wizards. Listen to me closely ghost, I am going to find a way to banish you from this school, or else remove your ability to communicate at all! How dare you mislead so many children-”
The air becomes suffocating as he draws it in, using what little magic a ghost has to enlargen himself and roar down at me, “You dare speak to me that way? You disgusting brat, I’ll have you turned from this school and made a scoundrel of the streets!”
I intensify my look of disdain, staring into his eyes as I do. “Of course, you could tell people,” I continue, “try to turn them against me, or convince them that they may try to do me harm. I welcome the adversity. Already, I’m equal to most students, and indeed will only grow more powerful with every day. Please, send your whelps to do me harm, so that I have the oppotunity to prove who of us is the stronger, and more to be feared, incompetent cur.”
I spit at his feet, or where they would be if he weren’t hovering, before turning my back and storming off.
Dragging my poor, shell shocked thirteen year old friend along behind me. Shit.
“Come on,” I whisper, panic building in my chest.
She doesn’t say a word, letting me lead her through the dungeons expertly and all the way to the fifth floor. I answer the statue before it’s even finished speaking and pull her gently over to Professor Flitwick's office. Thankfully he’s in, and I’m ushered in as it’s about time for our meeting anyway.
“Dear girls,” he gushes, fretting over Sarah. “What in Merlin's name happened to you two? I only saw you an hour and a half ago!”
I guide Sarah into a chair and ask our Head of House to order her some warm hot chocolate, which he does. He thankfully asks no questions as we wait for the drink.
I kneel down on the carpet beside the sofa she’s on the edge of and press the steaming mug into her cold hands, watching her blink, suddenly flinch as she takes things in once more, and finally takes the mug. “Oh. Thank you.”
“It’s okay,” I smile softly. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
“It’s okay,” she says, though I’m not sure she means it this time.
“Perhaps you two should explain,” Professor Flitwick suggests, and I sigh knowing I have no other choice.
“I’ve been doing the research I promised, on finding out everything of Slytherin Junior I can-”
“The Bloody Baron,” Sarah interrupts, staring into her mug. I can’t see her eyes, but it sounds like she’s on the brink of tears. “He’s really horrible.”
Professor Flitwick gives me a confused look, so I skip to that part. “I know the Bloody Baron was around at the time of the Founders and interacted with them, so I figured he’d be a brilliant source of information. I was right in that he knows a lot of the story, but what I didn’t know is that he’s a blood supremist that refers to Slytherin Junior as, and I quote, ‘the first glorious Lord of the Dark in this place.’ I got mad and we started fighting.”
“Oh dear,” the professor mutters gravely.
“He admitted to turning children in Slytherin towards the same supremacy.”
He nods in understanding, and though his face is calm, I can see the anger clearly. If only I had been so put together earlier. “That is something I will take up with the headmaster,” he says firmly. “Now, Miss Owens, perhaps you and I should talk this over without Miss Hawthorne. Perhaps it’ll help soothe your worries.”
I’m loath to do so, but when my friend nods, I get up and put a gentle hand on her shoulder for just a moment before letting her go.
I can’t know what’ll happen, but she needs this. Someone who is a real adult who can help her through the trouble I’ve just forced her into.
Outside the office, I gently close the door behind me. I stand there for a few moments, unsure of what I should do, before leaving the room once more. There’s only one other place to get information, even if I have been avoiding it.
I go around to the Masters Room on the seventh floor, striding directly to the Founders portraits above the fireplace where they all look at me with the expectant gaze of teachers long since used to children demanding answers to their every whim. In this case, I’m completely glad - all my adult emotions are spent and all I have left is my childish need for someone else to fix this.
“Slytherin,” I say, folding into a deep, ancient chair. It’s stuffed perfectly and eases my bones. “I went back to your fight with your son. I’m exhausted.”
“Ah, was that today?” He asks rhetorically. “Yes, that was-”
“No, it was Thursday. Now it’s Saturday. I assumed you, well none of you really, would be exactly forthcoming with information so I’ve been trying to find the entire history myself.”
Gryffindor answered. “It’s good for you to learn for yourself.”
I roll my eyes. “In some cases, sure. Regardless, I can’t find anything!”
Ravenclaw tuted at me. “Sit up, child.” I pout but do what I’m told. “Just because we may not be willing to tell you all the answers before their time doesn’t mean we can’t aid you at all. Are you willing to act like a lady befitting my house or not?”
I put away my pout and sit exactly as a lady should. “Yes, ma’am.”
Gryffindor gauffs but Ravenclaw seems satisfied. “Excellent. Let us start directly before you arrived for that battle. Salazar Junior was younger than most of our heirs, and the only one to Salazar here. Despite being raised with all the care and fondness of his father and nannies, he found his life lacking. Our other children, being several years ahead, were not interested in spending much time with him as a child, so perhaps loneliness affected his development. Nonetheless, he grew to be a very ambitious young man, as charismatic as father but unfortunately made friends with people who wanted him for his power and position more so than those without agender.”
I glance at Slytherins portrait as Ravenclaw takes a breath, and his eyes are far away but he is comfortable. Whatever the story, they are all clearly over the trauma. Several hundred years to work on their troubles would do that I suppose.
“We didn’t see him for some years once he finished his Hogwarts education, though we offered him Masteries and apprenticeships. Still we heard news of his deplorable acts. Mercenaries and what you may look at as the law enforcement of those days attempted to stop him, but it was a swift and sudden coup on his part. Within months of his deeds getting back to us, he was in the school. Helga had died already, and, suspecting the worst was to come, I created my room. Honestly, I made it when the first of his deeds came back us. I knew he would try for the castle, but I was growing weak with my illness, before he came, so I retired and left an enchantment to tell the room when the time needed came, that he could not learn of it before.” Rowena explains.
“The Come and Go Room,” I supply.
“Yes. From what Salazar tells me, the coup took less than five hours to complete. The room was host to over two thirds of the school's students and all the teachers, which was in those days, perhaps an entire tenth of Magical Britain's entire population. The rest were dead in the corridors to his assault. It was beyond catastrophic. Our children were a part of those he cut down as some were turned to his undead creatures, syphoning their power into his own.”
“Oh gods,” I whisper, wide eyed. “Each person he killed he took the power of. That’s how he rose so fast!”
“Exactly. In the end, the only one left to defend the school was our Salazar, and in his time of need, you came.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t mean to though. I mean, I’ve only heard bad things about Slytherin!”
“That’s not me, though,” the man in the portrait softly corrects. “The Slytherin you mean is my son. Without, for lack of better words, spoiling the entire story for you, I was old at the time of his take over. And after his betrayal, and Godric being out of the castle fighting off some hairbrained attempt by the French to take England, Rowena dying half the nation away, and their children and their children’s children laying dead, well.” He pauses and sighs. “I was alone with a few dozen terrified young ones that thought our castle was the most unholy, destroyed place in history. We were out of the room, which my son could not enter. I locked them in the Great Hall to go fight, as you know. It was then, you met me. After you left, I remained as long as I could but in the end, I too died. Without me, my son, unable to enter the school itself, made a chamber below, and used a serpent he made with foul magics to dig tunnels, which his children would use to make all the changes he wished. Including removing me from history. I’m not sure if he ever got in, himself, but I know that later generations of magical peoples collapsed his tunnels and chambers, which were under my own. There may be a way, yet, to get to them through the rubble, but I know not.”
I let the words sink in. After some silent time, where we all seem away in our thoughts, the Bloody Baron's words come back to me. “He said - the Barons ghost I mean. He said you sealed your Chamber.”
“I did. Godric did the same with his rooms before his death, but my Chamber was something different altogether. ‘Zar never got in, to my knowledge, but hated the fact. He did, however, tell people he found the way in. The young men that followed him wouldn’t dream of questioning his authority, but you see, he never enjoyed the company of women. Helga and Rowena are exceptionally strong willed and intelligent women, and they demand respect - just the same as any man. ‘Zar disagreed. Of course, no woman, lady or girl in this school wanted to spend their time with him once they gained so much confidence in themselves through Helga’s and Rowena’s teachings, so he was put off by them. After our time, he kept them at a distance, so they continued to question what his loyal male followers did not. So he had to forbid them from places such as what he claimed was the Chamber.”
“So he just lied, basically.”
“Yes. The men that got close had to believe him out of fear of death, while the women were free to question his power at a distance. Nobody was particularly better off than the other in the end I suspect, but all that is to say, my Chamber remained sealed for many years after his death.”
I nod, recalling more of my conversation to him. “History also writes that the Bloody Baron was in love with the Grey Lady, Rowena’s daughter. I thought the Baron went to get her from Europe to bring her-”
“Some of his words may be true, child,” Ravenclaw stops me. “But, in the end the Baron claimed he was looking for redemption after Junior was expelled. His quest to prove it was to bring my daughter home. If he were to succeed, he would be restored, honourably. If he failed, then he would be chained, forevermore, to atone for his sins. To get back at me, he killed her and then himself instead.”
“I need to remove him,” I say certainly. “The Bloody Baron can’t stay at Hogwarts any longer.”
“I agree,” Hufflepuff growls, finally speaking. “That beast has done enough damage with his foul speech through the centuries.”
Her and Gryffindor begin to rant about him, though all of it is personal memories of his time alive and how they hated him, so it unfortunately added nothing about actually removing him. I have to get up and pace in front of them as I try to work through my thoughts.
“Stop,” I command, making them pause in their angry words. “I need to reason this out aloud. Only one living person knows of my time travel, and that’s my Head of House, Professor Flitwick. I trust him to keep this a secret, since he has so far, and he believes me. This is what I need to do: I need to give him some proof of my story, as we want to know when I’ll go back in time next so I’m prepared for it.”
“We aren’t going to change Time itself,” Hegla says, no nonsense.
“Annoying, but understandable. What written histories do you know that I can get? If it’s not coming from your mouth, after all, it's all free game.”
Gryffindor smirks and with a wave of his hand, and several very large books about the length of my forearm appear on the coffee table. They’re made of dark, thick leather, with clasps holding them closed. Each radiates old magic. “Our records. These are only that referring to what little we know you’ve witnessed or can find elsewhere, so don’t expect some grand reveal. But I think they’re a worthy aid, don’t you?”
I pick the three large books up gratefully. “Thank you, sir.”
He waves me away. “Once you have given this proof to your trusted professor?”
“Well, I want to work out whatever pattern is sending me back in time, but if that’s not possible, I will move on to researching ghosts, specifically how to banish one.”
All three grin down at me. “Excellent,” Helga nods. “Keep us updated, dear. If there is nothing else, you should get on.”
I nod, thank them and greet Lord Arthur before disillusioning myself Wandlessly and taking myself back to the Tower.
Sarah is not in Professor Flitwick's office when I arrive, and he welcomes me in. The door closes on its own and is sealed. He enacts the same wards as we had on our first meeting, and as he does that, I put the three books on his desk. When we’re both ready, I begin.
I start from the exact moment we left his office on Thursday evening after telling him about the time travel, explaining how Sarah hadn't exactly believed my story at the beginning but as I had been researching my topics she had begun to come around until this morning. I explain how I had met her outside the library after researching - after meeting my study group for normal studying, of course - and had been almost entirely unsuccessful. I tell him truthfully exactly what happened with the Bloody Baron and what he said, quoting both myself and the Baron.
“I see,” the part Goblin nods. “Continue to the end, please.”
“Sir, do you know about the Come and Go Room?”
He smiles slightly, for only half a second, for the first time in our conversation. “I do, yes.”
“So, after leaving Sarah at your office, I went there. I went to the Come and Go Room and asked for help understanding what happened at that time. And there, I was given these books. They explain what happened.”
Raising an eyebrow, he takes one of them and opens its giant cover. It creaks as the leather is moved for what could be the first time in centuries.
He trails a long, hard nail over the print, reading the ancient Latin language. My own skills in Latin, thankfully, are passable enough that I can translate the words even from upside down, so I won’t have a hole in my story there. He flicks through until, as it’s Slytherins, he gets to the part about banishing his own son. The pages are marked with ink stains, water marks and lines are scratched out with a blunt quill. I wince as the pain of this man is presented so permanently before us.
“This all correlates,” he murmurs softly. “These books - Miss Hawthrone, do you know the treasures you’ve uncovered here?”
“I do, sir, but please, can we not tell anyone at least until we know what's happening to me?” I beg.
He sighs deeply, turning an ancient page. “I will respect your wishes, but…” He leans back in his chair, leaving the book open before him. “I need some different answers.”
I nod, biting my tongue nervously.
“To begin, well, your language during your argument with the Baron was simply remarkable. I wonder where you learned it.”
I look down at my lap, knowing internally this is the time to push more onto him. “To be truthful sir… sometimes I feel like I see things. From before I was alive.”
“Like a Seer?”
“No,” I shake my head, “like it was my former life.”
I hear as he takes his glasses off. “Explain.”
“It’s like I woke up one day and I was able to remember so much from some other time. I’m the same as I was before these memories - thoughts - came to me, but I’m also the same as I am in the thoughts. It’s like I’m both of us. Does that make sense?”
“You believe you are reincarnated? Or are you the reincarnation of this person you have these memories of?”
“Yes, sir. I know it’s insane. I mean, that’s why I’ve never said anything.” I slowly look up at him through my lashes, not confident that he’ll throw everything I’ve told him so far out. “If people thought I was a reincarnation that could go back in time, they’d kill me.”
His eyes close as he nods. “What memories do you have?”
I open my mouth and then close it. “A whole life. Children and grandchildren. How I died.”
He looks at me again. “How?”
“Me and my son were being chased by something, a beast,” I say, sidestepping the full knowledge. “I knew if I didn’t do something, he would be killed. So I just stopped and turned. It jumped on me and I tried to fight but I was dead in seconds. And then, I woke up.”
“When did you wake up?”
I shuffle, unsure of if I should say or not.
“Please, Miss Hawthorne. I just wish to understand.”
“When I was a child, sir. I’m sorry, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It’s just, sometimes I can think back over this whole life I lived, and I remember it so clearly. It’s real, Professor. I know it doesn’t seem real, especially after telling you about my time travelling, but I swear to you, I’d take an Oath if you’d let me, I am telling the truth.”
He raises a hand and I stop. “I do believe you, so don’t panic. I admit, this is highly unusual, but the concept of both long-hop time travel and reincarnation are not unstudied theories. I’ve come to believe if something is at all possible, there is a chance you will encounter it in your life should you just take care to look.”
I smile brilliantly. “Thank you, thank you, sir!”
“Regardless of that, we have a more pressing, present matter at hand,” he says, putting his glasses back on. “I am going to study these books for references to yourself, as my research into the Hogwarts Journals didn’t include anything about an Aubrey Temporan, or Hawthorne. The only reference to any Aubrey had a different last name to the one you supplied, so it cannot be her. Hopefully through this I’ll find some reference so that we can attempt to track your comings and goings to the Founder era. At the same time, I’ll also be looking into the removal of the Bloody Baron.”
“Can Professor Dumbledore not just make him go, sir?”
Unfortunately, he shakes his head as a pot of tea with one mug appears. It seems this is his usual turning in time. I don’t even know when dinner was, as my stomach suddenly growls. “The Baron is younger only by a small handful of artefacts, the castle itself and the Grey Lady. Removing him will involve a meeting with the Board of Governors. Well, unless - yes, that’s how.”
My interest peaks as he transfigures a mug for me also and pours us both a soothing drink of tea, stirring in a tad extra milk to calm our overwrought senses. “What’s the other way?”
He shakes his head but explains anyway. “Oh, I just mean the only other way is to force him, which he won’t allow, or to destroy him, which he also won’t allow. The only one that might be able to destroy him is Peeves after all, and Peeves is terrified of him.”
“How so?” I demand, taking the offered tea.
He takes a deep breath before leaning over the table as best he can given his small stature. “If it weren’t for the fact we just covered that you have a remarkable maturity for your age, I wouldn’t tell you this, but as it is - Peeves is a Poltergeist. In a sense, they are less a ghost and more a creature. The exact details aren’t worth going into here, nor does it entirely matter for our conversation, but due to a remarkable amount of long history, Peeves was bound to the castle to help protect it in times of trouble. It happens there hasn’t seen any in a very long time and there’s not much use encouraging his ego, so it isn’t often taught, but all the teachers understand their need here. To keep them from leaving the castle, the ones that employed them had to bind them not with magic, but literal chains. They’re under their clothes, keeping them from being able to leave the castle.”
“I don’t understand what that means for the Baron, though?”
“The Bloody Baron was a part of employing Peeves' skills and binding them in chains. He knows how to tighten those chains and is the only one left that has the knowledge on how to remove them. As such, Peeves does what he says. You may have noticed this.”
“Yes.”
“Poltergeists can fight with ghosts as if they are made of the same material, though they’re not, and they can destroy them. Ghosts can fight back of course, but Peeves is exceptionally strong even for the being they are. So, that is the story of how Peeves is the only one that can destroy the Bloody Baron, and how it isn’t possible.”
“Sir… sir, why don’t you call Peeves a he?”
“A Poltergeist is not a person that is a he or a she, nor are they an object or animal. They are Poltergeists. I attempted to befriend Peeves many years ago, though it didn’t exactly work. That’s how I know all this.”
I nod. “It’s so interesting! Poor Peeves though, do they even want to be here? I mean, I’m not sure Peeves should be let free into the world, as they’d cause complete havok, but it’s still sad.”
“I understand, dear, but there’s nothing any of us can do. Headmasters for generations have been attempting to convince the Baron to let Peeves go, but he refuses. I’ll speak with the Headmaster tomorrow about this, and I’ll only say that you have had an interest in the Founders and spoke with the Baron. He’ll understand, many students get curious about them.”
I nod and place my mug down on his desk, now empty. “So there’s not much I can do, really, is there?”
“I expect you’ll be called to the Headmaster to discuss your conversation with the Baron, but other than that, allow me to handle it. Until then, just focus on your work and on the next Solstice, I will make sure to meet to keep you out of trouble. Is that okay with you?”
Not particularly, but it’s a start. I nod. “Thank you, sir. Um, before I go, how is Sarah?”
“She’s elected to have a sleepover with some other friends as she mulls everything over, but promised to speak with you tomorrow.”
I nod before he can continue. “I understand, sir. I’ll give her some space. I’ll get going.”
We say our goodbyes and I go up to my lonely dorm where I eat a snack from my Inventory before collapsing back in bed and falling straight to sleep.
