Samantha Evergreen begins her sixth year at Hogwarts in 1943, but, with a spell gone horribly wrong, suddenly vanishes without a trace. Sirius Black, popular and bored, begins his seventh year in 1977 with a new Professor in Defence Against the Dark Arts: a girl, unable to return home, stuck in a time far from her own. This is the story of Samantha ...
As Time Goes By
Prelude
Drop after drop fell from the faucet, creating a slow rhythm that broke the concentrated silence in the Prefects' bathroom; the air was cold and clammy as the two Slytherin students huddled together over a small diagram on the tiled floor. The boy, irritably brushing a hand through his dark black hair, tried to hide his temper from the girl across of him. "For the last time, should I not take your spot?"
The witch shook her head and looked up, creating eye contact with a smile. "You seem to forget who came up with this entire process, Riddle. I did. In all fairness, it would be only right for me to be the first to attempt it as well." Quickly scurrying through the pocket of her school robes, she pulled out a small, velvet pouch and poured the contents out into her open palm. The female Prefect rose to her feet, amber eyes overlooking their work for any flaws.
"And you seem to forget that, without my help, you would not have been able to complete the spell." Riddle commented as he stood as well, towering a head above the girl. "The Sand was not exactly easy to acquire." The ancient runes shimmered faintly at their feet; she had used months before finally deciding the translation was completely accurate and they were now at the final stage of preparations.
With a deep breath, she stepped into the circle. Her heart was thumping loudly in her chest, both in anticipation and anxiety, as neither could with certainty predict the outcome. For all the girl knew, she could be dead within minutes. "I assume you know what to do if I do not return?" Her fellow Slytherin nodded but gave no further response. "Very well. If you please, Tom." They looked at each other one final time before silently agreeing.
He pulled out his wand. "Incendio," the shimmering marks of the circle and runes instantly caught fire and the bathroom became illuminated in a bright, purple light; the witch tilted her hand and watched the sand, sparkling in the glow of the fire, get devoured by the flames. "Good luck." When the final grain of sand slipped from her palm, the hue changed instantly to a clear gold; their eye contact was broken as the light completely consumed her.
With a bright flash, she had vanished …