"If you don't have time to do it right, when will you have time to do it over?"
~ John Wooden
It was Christmas time. The Great Hall was packed to burst with decorations, students chittered gleefully about going home for Christmas, and even Peeves wore a Christmas hat – albeit one that said 'Bah Humbug'. However, the joy that seemed to fill everyone this time of year was absent from Harry.
Walking through the draughty castle, he didn't see any of this cheer, all he could see was Ginny, packing up her bags… Leaving him.
She had been right to. She was always right.
After the war he had become a recluse, if it hadn't been for McGonagall offering him the DADA post then he probably would have been halfway through a bottle of Firewhiskey by now.
At 11am in the morning Firewhiskey was not an ideal breakfast.
Instead he had just finished breakfast in the Great Hall, even if he did love bacon it was a slightly healthier alternative.
Walking through the cloisters the wind howled at him, and Harry wrapped his cloak tighter around himself and sped up.
He was almost back to his office when he saw a tabby cat from the corner of his eye. It was looking at him, almost piercingly so, its eyes filled with worry.
When did cats worry about anything but themselves…
"Minerva, why are you spying on me?"
The cat cocked its head to the side, it did a damn fine impression of looking confused.
"Please Minerva, I would recognise you anywhere, why are you spying on me?" sighed Harry. Surely she never thought he was that stupid?
"Very well, Harry," said Minerva, the tabby shimmering for a moment before turning into the Headmistress of Hogwarts. "We are concerned about you, Hermione said you've been ignoring her invitations to go over for Christmas. That didn't sound like you."
"Well maybe I'm not the person everyone thinks I am," bit back Harry. The words were out before he could stop them.
Minerva's gaze softened for a minute, and Harry was strikingly reminded of Dumbledore in that compassionate gaze that he swore could see through his mind.
"Harry, if you need to talk you know where my quarters are. You are not the only one that has lost people," Minerva's eyes darkened for a minute, and Harry remembered that she normally spent the year with Dumbledore. Two years on his absence was still being felt.
"Thank you," said Harry stiffly. Merlin this was awkward.
Thankfully two Second Years chose at that moment to run by, one shooting a jet of light at the other, which was skilfully dodged. Minerva swooped on them, pulling them back with a nonverbal spell.
"I hope one of you can tell me what you think is urgent enough to almost knock myself and Professor Potter down for?" she said to the terrified Second Years.
Taking this as his cue to leave, Harry started making his way to his office again, internally grateful to the two students who would soon be in detention. Maybe he'd offer to cover it and make it easy for them, they did get him out of that conversation.
Back in the seclusion of his office, his eyes guiltily crept towards his drinks cabinet. There was a bottle of Firewhiskey, three quarters full. He told himself it was to help with the nightmares, but he wasn't sure when that reason had started to slip. Yes, he wasn't as dependent as when he first came to teach at Hogwarts, but that was only because he had responsibilities now.
Far be it for him to destroy the image of the Man-Who-Conquered for his students.
He could almost laugh at the title the Daily Prophet had thrust upon him. Even the Aurors had offered to take him in, but he had seen enough of violence and destruction. He figured if he taught then he might at least prevent anyone else going Dark and trying to destroy the world.
But then there was no threat now. Not a major one anyway. He didn't think he knew how to survive in a peaceful world. His adolescence had been filled with horror, death, war, he never really knew anything different. During those times he had longed for peace, for being able to rest, the weight of defeating Voldemort taken off his shoulders, but now that that had happened he felt surplus to requirement.
What would he do now?
Those thoughts just made him feel guilty again. He missed the war, did that make him a monster?
Batting those thoughts away he looked around his bleaker quarters. He had never really decorated, never saw the point. The wallpaper looked as if it had been there since the Founders, the furniture was slightly more modern, he'd hazard a guess at Grindelwald's time.
This wasn't his.
When this mood descended on him, he knew that there was one place he had to go. One place that was exclusively his, that no one else could reach.
He just wishes he never had to go by Moaning Myrtle to get there.
"Harry," Myrtle said in a singsong voice, "Back again? I knew you couldn't resist me".
Myrtle floated in front of the sink, she was almost reclining on it, her mouth spread into what was meant to be a seductive smile.
"Get out of the way, Myrtle," Harry almost growled. He had to get away.
"Always so mean, Harry," Myrtle sulked, crossing her arms, but still not moving.
"Myrtle, move, or I will walk through you" Harry was surprised at the venom in his voice.
"People are always walking through Myrtle," Myrtle sobbed, "It's like they have no respect for the dead" she shrieked the last part, moving away from her perch and disappearing with a splash down the toilet.
Harry knew he would pay for that later, but now he couldn't care. Hissing "Open" he watched as the sink moved, descending to open the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.
It was funny that somewhere he had once held with so much fear had become the one place he could go to collect his thoughts. It was twisted… Almost.
Descending into the bowels of the castle, he heard the entrance shut behind him, thanking himself for installing lights the first time he came down here since his arrival. The orbs of light bobbed closer to the ceiling, luminescent bubbles giving the once grim chamber a homier feel. Once he had gotten rid of the animal bones and the Basilisk the place had brightened up more, the horror that had once been visited on this place removed.
Like placing a carpet over a bloodstain, you knew it was there, but you couldn't see it so it bothered you less.
As he entered the chamber, his footsteps were sure, not hesitant like he had been in his Second Year. Now he knew this place, there were no horrors lurking in here anymore. Well, none that he couldn't handle anyway.
Walking the well-worn path towards the statue to Salazar - the one thing he could not get rid of – he hissed "open" once more, and a doorway appeared to the left of the statue, so small that he might had missed it if he didn't know it was already there.
When he had came down here after taking up his teaching position, he had tried to dismantle the statue of Salazar, to remove the last blot that marred this place. His place. In doing so he had discovered a new chamber… More a library, its shelves stacked with books and artefacts. Harry knew Hermione would have loved it down here, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to share it with her yet. For now this secret was his. One of his only secrets that was not splashed over the pages of the Prophet.
He had tried to hide his split from Ginny, keep that a secret, but somehow that got out.
Shaking his head sadly, he chased away those morose thoughts. Those thoughts were for evening spent in front of the fireplace with a tumbler in his hand, not for here.
Last time he was here, he had been about to move it around – Salazar had cared more for books than for space to read books. The room was stacked to the ceiling with tomes, and relaxing his shoulders and taking a deep breath he got stuck in.
He didn't know how many hours he had been down there when he found it. Hidden behind one stack of books he had stumbled across a glass container. Inside it was an hourglass, its frame was golden, the sand within it almost translucent, catching on the light and casting rainbow patterns upon the glass.
It was beautiful.
Almost without recognising it, he lifted the lid on the glass container. He just had to touch it. The light coming from the hourglass seemed to grow brighter, almost compelling him to pick it up. His searching fingers clasped its frame, lifting it from its glass prison. He could hear a faint voice in the back of his head, he made out the word "stop!" but it was too late for that. He couldn't, he simply couldn't.
He turned it once, twice, mesmerised by how the grains of sand moved, ghosting from one end of the hourglass to the next.
It was then he realised he was not alone.
Why was Salazar Slytherin in Hogwarts?
As if reading his mind, the aged wizard smiled, a gentler smile than one Harry thought the Founder of Slytherin would had been capable of.
"So you found it, I had wondered how long it would take," his voice was ghostly, like a shadow of a person.
"I've found what?" asked Harry, panic rising in his chest as he realised what it was he had done.
"The Hourglass of Te Nosce, child! You did realise what it was before you picked it up?!" Salazar seemed incredulous.
"No, I just wanted to touch it," admitted Harry, wondering where that compulsion had came from.
"Foolish child, my heir could not do this," spluttered Salazar, his eyes filled with rage and dawning comprehension.
"What will happen?" asked Harry, noticing with start that the light that the hourglass emitted was lapping up his arm, spreading quickly.
"You will go back to a time that you most wish," said Salazar.
"Will it be in my lifetime?" asked Harry. This could not be happening.
"No, this was designed for my heir. He was meant to come back and stop Godric throwing me out, and you're wasting it!" replied Salazar, his voice laced with contempt.
"I get it, I shouldn't have touched it! What will happen?!" asked Harry. He couldn't believe he was being lectured by the ghost of a Founder, maybe he had drank too much Firewhiskey and this was a delusion?
"You will assume the identity of someone in that timeline, only if someone was extremely close to you will they have any hint of suspicion. That was how I was meant to recognise my heir," said Salazar bitterly, aware that he could do nothing to stop this now.
The light had almost fully encompassed Harry now, he knew he only had seconds left.
"How do I get back?" he asked, his mind scrambling desperately to catch up with this situation.
"When you have finished what you need to do," said Salazar, "Try not to die though, it will mess up the timeline quite a bit."
With those final, not completely reassuring words, Harry felt the light encompass him, and then he fell into darkness. The last thing he saw was Salazar sneering at him, the ghost's eyes filled with contempt and bitterness.
A/N: Hello, I've been itching to write another timetravel fic and I finally got inspiration! It has been a few years since my last one, so I'm a little rusty - I hope this is okay! I confess I stole the concept of the hourglass and Salazar from one of my previous stories, however, I fleshed it out a little more here - it was more a footnote in the first one. Please review and let me know what you think! :)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter