Feeling the last few hours settle onto his shoulders Harry heaved a sigh. He was losing everyone, from his parents, to Sirius… Dumbledore. It was a never ending cycle he couldn't spell away. And now, somehow, he found himself in the Room of Requirement.

Settling himself on to an old armchair he gave the room a once over. The room had turned itself into a smaller version of the Gryffindor common room. Next to him, on the small end table, old parchments lay forgotten underneath an even older looking cup.

Absentmindedly he picked up the cup and before he could mutter a word a familiar hook feeling fixed itself under his navel.

The feeling lasted for what seemed like hours. When it finally stopped he found himself unceremoniously dropped onto a rug before a fireplace in the same room he was just previously in.

Looking around he scratched his head in confusion. Obviously he had taken a portkey, but why would a portkey be hidden in the Room of Requirement and why would it take him to the same place?

Eyeing the old parchments again he carefully picked one up, hoping it wouldn't whisk him away as well. Seeing the odd text he shook his head. Hermione would be able to help him, but she was with Ron.

Making sure he still had his wand Harry left the room taking no notice that there were fewer less paintings on the walls as he made his way back to the Gryffindor tower.

Finally at the portrait of The Fat Lady he again heaved a sigh. She wasn't there, probably off chatting with another painting.

Deciding to visit Dobby he quietly made his way down towards the kitchen. He didn't find it odd that there were no stray peers roaming the halls, nor did he find the quietness of the place strange. Today was a day of mourning after all.

It wasn't until Harry entered the kitchens he truly realized something wasn't right. There were by far less house elves, and if the elves didn't do it for him, the two people talking about things at one of the tables did.

Shaking his head he thought back to the events that took place not even an hour ago. Time travel, on this level, wasn't possible. A few hours maybe, but definitely not a thousand years. No, he had to be dreaming.

Finally noticing there was a stranger in the room, the man's piercing grey eyes fixed themselves on Harry's emerald ones. "Who are you?" he asked.

Immediately Harry felt and saw his entire life flash before his eyes. Wincing he spoke as clearly as he could, "I'm Harry Potter, Sir."

"Oh Salazar," the lady quipped, knowing exactly what he was doing. "Leave the poor boy's mind alone." Turning to Harry she gave him a sweet smile. "I'm sorry, but how did you get here?"

Finally the feeling of legilimency stopped and Harry was able to answer. "A portkey ma'am. I was in the Room of Requirement and there was a cup…" he trailed off unsure of how to continue. He wasn't even sure if they'd understand him, but then again, they clearly weren't talking with the old English slang he expected.

Salazar was still eyeing him in distrust, even with Harry's entire life knowledge. "Perhaps, Mr. Potter, a charm was placed upon the cup with the impression of whoever touched it would, by chance, need the language barrier ripped down."

Turning his gaze back to Slytherin House founder Harry once again felt the impression of legilimency on his mind. "Would you stop that?" Harry asked glaring at the man. "Don't you have it all already?"

"I do," Salazar said a nasty grin on his face, "I'm just making sure this isn't a…joke."

"A joke," Helga wondered, looking from Harry and back to Salazar. "Would you mind explaining to me why you're here?" she asked finally deciding to settle her sight on Harry.

Looking back at Helga, Harry found himself unable to answer.

Salazar seeing this gave a dark laugh.

"Well you know all about him, perhaps you know why he is here then?" Helga snapped, turning back to her friend.

"Oh, I know not why he is here, but perhaps we should find and alert Rowena and Godric before we question him any further," he suggested. "In the meantime, I would like to have a little…chat, with our guest."

Eyeing the founder Harry shook his head. He really didn't want to have a conversation with this man. "I don't think we need to have a conversation Sir."

"No," Salazar hissed, and Harry was sure that he was speaking in Parseltongue by the look on Helga's face. "We do." He paused and gestured for Helga to get on with her search while at the same time gesturing for Harry to take a seat. "You have some misconceived perceptions of me, and I know it's because of how history has…painted me… You would do well to forget about those lies Mr. Potter, because I am not. That. Man." He paused briefly at the end of each of the last three words.

"Could have fooled me," Harry hissed back, not letting his glare waver. "What gives you the right to just invade someone's mind? You obviously know everything I do… About your descendant -"

Salazar quickly cut him off in a heated hiss. "Do not pin my unworthy heir on me. It was not I who put those words about me on paper, I believe you know what that is like Mr. Potter."

Feeling his shoulders slump down Harry lowered his gaze.

"Now, before the others get here I'd like to offer my condolences over your loss," Salazar spoke watching as tears built up in the young boys eyes. "But that isn't here, and if we are to train you, you'll do your best to put that to the side."

Snapping his eyes up to the founder who had shed the unpleasantries, Harry knew his glare had returned in full. "What do you know about loss?" he hissed. "I've lost everything! You seriously expect me to just put it to the side? You know nothing of my pain!"

Before the founder could speak another word Harry rushed out of the kitchen barely getting past the other three founders who stood there completely unaware of just what the conversation had entailed.

"Just what did you say to the dear boy?" Helga all but shrieked as they entered the kitchen. "He looked like the earth under his feet was going to disappear!"

Salazar sighed and looked up at his friends. "The boy needs our help," he finally said after they all sat down. "Obviously I looked into his mind, he has absolutely no shields but that's beside the point."

"Well get on with it then, tell us what you know," Rowena said bringing a cup of tea to her lips.

"His whole life has been strung together by a prophecy," Salazar said and watched as Rowena choked on her tea. "Since the age of one he's been living with his Aunt and Uncle, who've abused him and treated him like a house elf."

Salazar took a sip of his own tea along with a deep breath before he continued the boy's story. He told them what he saw from Harry's life with the Dursley's, to finding out he was a wizard, and every year at Hogwarts since. "He's going to have to kill the man, or the entire Wizarding world will fall."

Godric, who had remained silent up until that point let out a short breath. Rowena looked as if she were already thinking up how they would help this boy, and Helga had a small tense frown upon her face.

"And what did you say to cause him so much more upset?" Helga asked again breaking the silence in the room.

Salazar sighed again and shook his head. "The boy is not from this time, the fact momentarily fled my mind," was all he said as he got up from the table. "When he is ready, he'll come find us." And with that the man left the room.

Rowena, Godric, and Helga then all looked at each other, an understanding silently settled between them. When Harry was ready they would teach him all they could, train him to be the best wizard of his time, and then when they had no more left to give they would find a way to send him back, so he could fulfill the prophecy and lead the Wizarding world to a new age.