Albus Dumbledore believed in doing his duty even if duty conflicted with his personal desires, feelings and preferences. Tonight, as he gazed at the students eating their dinner, Albus knew his duty was clear. He had to keep up appearances.

He forced his lips to a form a small smile; his eyes to look more alert than they had been all day. Dutifully, he ate his meal though every bite was tasteless as paper. When his glance lingered to the chair lying empty beside him, he mentally repeated to himself that an entire day had already passed and three days really wasn't that far away.

"72 hours to go," Dumbledore murmured.

Professor Flitwick turned his head at the sound. "What was that, Albus?"

"Nothing, Filius, "

"So, how are you enjoying substitute teaching?"

Albus smiled his first genuine smile all day. "Surprisingly pleasant, Filius. I did not realize how much I missed teaching."

"I am sure that all the students are on their best behavior."

"For now," Albus chuckled. "I hope the novelty does not wear off before Minerva's return."

The lady being referred to was at that moment sharing an indulgence. Two whiskeys neat sloshed in their glasses as Minerva and Irma toasted to a good hunt.

"Courage and good providence," Irma said.

"To the next clue and success," Minerva took a healthy sip.

"It's seven now. Shall we leave at about eleven?" Irma asked leaning against a pillow set on one end of the sitting room sofa. Her notes lay on her lap. "By my calculations, we should reach Achnabreck in less than 2 hours."

"1 hour. We are not using school brooms."

"We're not?"

"No. We are, ah, evaluating some new models for the Nimbus line."

"Do I want to know how you arranged that?"

"No."

"I am not the best of flyers, Minerva." warned Irma.

"Not to worry. These are not racing brooms but courier brooms. Speedy but utterly safe."

"You said evaluation did you not? Are these prototypes?"

"Working prototypes. One could execute corkscrew spins through flaming hoops and be completely under control, or so I'm told."

Irma looked sharply at the transfiguration mistress. "Minerva -"

"Milosh assures me that they are completely safe. I trust him absolutely."

"That would be Milosh Dvorak owner of Nimbus, Inc?"

"The very one."

""Does Albus know about this ... this commercial opportunity?"

"I would rather not say."

The portraits in the headmaster's office were rarely at a loss for words. Many of them had been in their near perpetual graphic existence for many decades. They had seen many things and were too experienced to be frightened by most things. However, the ancient strongbox lying on the headmaster's desk was most definitely not in the most things category.

The cabinet was old, older than the castle. It's magic protection extended to the very grain of the wood. In the magic world, anything old had to be treated with respect because age did not mean a decline in influence or potency. No, the general rule of thumb was that age was to be respected and extreme age was to be feared. As one, the portraits averted their eyes as Albus gently opened the lid. A few of the portraits plugged their ears with their fingers while others forced themselves to sleep.

The headmaster scanned the contents of the cabinet with a critical eye. Several dozen opaque orbs lay inside piled one on top of the other. Though dusty and innocuous, the orbs drew the eye. The cabinet and the orbs were Rowena's bequest to the school and only the headmaster or the deputy headmistress had any access to it.

Rowena Ravenclaw had a known antipathy towards journals and parchment preferring to keep her thoughts within these crystal orbs. Unfortunately, she did not employ a straightforward labeling method. Albus had devoted several hours to simply listening to various orbs picked at random. Sifting through Rowena's observations whether mundane or brilliant was time consuming. Unfortunately, he could not trust the task to anyone else.

Though Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin had been far better known than Rowena Ravenclaw, her skills were formidable and her male counterparts were justly appreciative and intimidated. She was not the idealistic diplomat as Godric was viewed nor was she the artful manipulator that Salazar embodied so effortlessly. No, she was a realist - singular in purpose, nearly cruel in her pragmatism yet always unflinchingly fair.

Albus removed an orb from the cabinet and carefully laid it on a holder. He tapped the orb twice with his wand before settling down into his chair for what promised to be a long evening.

After a few minutes of silence, the long ago voice of the greatest seer of the wizarding world drifted through the office - soft, naturally rhythmic yet carrying the sharp edge of authority. After a section describing the various research and topics that Rowena was currently investigating, Albus was startled to hear other voices.

One voice, a man's, was deep almost guttural and decisive in tone. "I do not see the difficulty. We need eliminate his contamination of the continuum. Of this we are agreed."

"Murder I shall not condone. We must tread carefully until more knowledge comes to light." This second male voice was of softer timbre yet the speaker's absolute conviction was unmistakable.

"Then be it as you say! Naught will we do. Upon this prophecy's fruition our corpses shall be dust and ash. Therefore, what care do we need to expend now?"

"Great care and even greater diligence, Salazar," Rowena's voice joined the conversation. "Much needs to be undone."

"It has been five days, Rowena, Neuvilette remains crazed."

"His will has long been harnessed to his desires. It shall change and his mind will be clear to reason. We must exercise patience."

"Then what are we do, Rowena? We shall need more than the three of us and one of that time device to complete our mission." asked the other voice. A voice that Albus deduced to be that belonging to Godric Gryffindor. "I do not agree that ridding ourselves of Neuvilette is the answer yet we must act. There were three families killed today near Kent. As they slept, their homes were set aflame. Swords and blades greeted those attempting escape."

"Our course is one. Neuvilette is the cause of all this. Kill him now I say," Salazar urged.

"No, Neuvilette is merely the unexpected catalyst. This ... conflict with the mundanes shall not end. They fear our kind and always will." Rowena said. "Fear will drive the most docile of animals to mindless ferocity. Envy shall stir hate and intolerance in the sweetest of dispositions."

"Then we will fight back. We have grown soft -"

Godric interrupted, "We shall be no better than they."

"Unlike you, I do not advocate hiding in plain sight. We have a place in this world and I shall not surrender it!" The sounds of glass breaking punctuated this declaration.

Silence followed. Then Rowena sighed. "Peace, Salazar. Let reason stay your hand. I have witnessed prosperity for our kind in the midst of war and turmoil. We shall survive. Let us address our immediate concern - Neuvilette."

Godric spoke. "Helga shall have returned in two weeks. I shall inquire of two or three others to aid us."

"Nay. We alone shall be sufficient."

"We cannot be. There are many strands to investigate and knots to displace and replace."

"You are correct, Godric, there are a great multitude of possibilities affected. However, we will repair the origin and trust in others to see to the rest."

"Others?" Salazar asked in a low voice.

"Only those in the future can decide how best to affect change. We must trust that they will do what is best."

"That strategy seems imprecise and prone to folly," Salazar said.

"I admit to great misgivings myself, Rowena. This matter is of such import that leaving its disposition to mere chance, to fate, is ... is unfathomable."

"Fate is not nearly so capricious." Rowena replied. "Even with the prophecy we know too little. To assume a time and place for the denouement is ill-advised. Our tasks must be carried forward by witches and wizards of other times, other strands."

"How shall we be certain that they will know what to do, what to expect?" Godric inquired.

"I do not intend for our descendants to be without some guidance."

"What kind of guidance?"

"I am uncertain the form such will take. I need think well upon it," Rowena admitted. "But now we must deal with the baron for I sense the darkness coming and quickly."

The voices ended. Albus Dumbledore sat stock still. His heart hammered in his chest. His mind reeled faced with the realizations that had dawned upon him like sunbursts in the dusky twilight.

Sensing his master's need, Fawkes flew to him. He rubbed his beak against Dumbledore's arm. Around the phoenix's neck was wrapped a golden heart pendant. Like its twin, it was warm and comforting to the touch. Should its twin be in jeopardy, the phoenix would know first then its master. With the evening's revelations heavy on his mind, Albus caressed the pendant in his palm taking some comfort in knowing that Minerva was safe.

Kilmartin lay quiet. Its quaint streets were empty of whizzing cars and anxious pedestrians. While most lamplights shone brightly along the street, four lamplights in the vicinity of the inn were conspicuously dark.

"Definitely handy." Minerva pocketed the put outer she had borrowed from Albus. Behind her she could hear Irma rustling getting herself comfortable on the new broom. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be. Onward!" Irma's firm grip on her broom handle was in direct contrast to the optimistic bravado in her voice. She was determined to see this quest through to the end fear or not.

The two ladies levitated. On the count of three, they flew out of the open window of the inn and into the inky blackness.

The headmaster sipped his hot cocoa. Though it was late sleep was not foremost on his mind. He had to find out what he could about the prophecy. And that meant listening to as many orbs as he could. With a growing sense of urgency, he calmed his mind and heart. He picked an orb randomly and began to listen.

Rowena's voice filled his ears once more. Unlike earlier, her voice now was marked with weariness and seeming despair. Her tone so sure and certain in the past was now hesitant and weak.

"Helga has done all she can for me. She and I fear the worst and I must resign myself to the inevitable. The strain, yes, I feel it as bands wrapped about me constraining my energy and will. Just ... just a bit longer, I must last."

Dumbledore heard the movement of parchment and quill. "Of the three, two are placed. The last and most vital marker must be concealed yet obvious. Where, oh where to put it?"

A sound of a door opening was heard then footfalls light and sharp. The next voice belonging to a woman was new to Dumbledore.

"Rowena, here is some tea. Cease and move away from that desk. You are not getting the rest I prescribed."

"I cannot rest, not yet, Helga. I see by your face that the news is not good."

"The boy has been found. He had hung himself in the forest."

"Dear Craddock, he was most promising. And Godric?"

"Heartbroken. He would take an axe to that cursed desk if he could. I would aid him without hesitation. Why do we simply not bury it deep somewhere and forget its very existence."

"We cannot. It must stay here ... for as long as necessary."

"Its lure is too dangerous. It calls to the young minds and hearts of our students. We know naught of its work until it is too late."

"It is temptation incarnate. I shan't argue with you on that. Nevertheless, its power must be used. We have proven that it can be ... be useful."

Helga swore then said. "You and Salazar I do not understand your so called logic. It is plain the harm that is laid before any foolish enough to seek its empty promises. We must protect our students first and foremost."

"And we have." said Rowena hotly. Her voice sounded a little stronger, a little more urgent. "But we cannot rule the will of the individual. Craddock and the others sought it out. This they did do despite our warnings and explanations of the consequences."

"We should have been more watchful nonetheless. Four students lost to us."

"Life is harsh. Tis better that the young learn that lesson early. We cannot ... will not ... be about to watch and decide for them what course of action is best. They must learn and so must we."

"I do not agree but your mind is set. And I must bow to the needs of the many, not the few." Helga Hufflepuff sighed. "Salazar informs me that his new spells and wards are nearly complete."

"Good. Once the desk is moved to the new tower we shall employ his new wards."

"We three will place the wards. You need to be in bed. Now. Take my arm."

"Oh, Helga, I ... I ..."

"How will you have strength to impart your bequest and duty to the new seer if you exhaust yourself so?"

"Very well, if I rest shall you desist your ... your coddling!"

The long ago voices faded.

Once more Dumbledore was left speechless. He was absolutely certain that somehow Rowena and perhaps Salazar had used the desk in some manner. A pernicious niggling suspicion writhed in his brain of a connection between the prophecy and the desk. But what was it?