The summer's distant heat passed by almost too quickly, the skies outside a cold grey more often than not, a whisper of the tragedy going on outside her doorstep – outside the safety of Diagon Alley and the magical world. It seemed almost odd; for the Second World War to be in full swing. That was something she had only read about in the history books, and yet… Harriet shook her head, tapping her finger against the hard wood of her desk as she stared at the blank pages in front of her. Scowling then, she lifted her quill, listening to the familiar scratches of quill on parchment as she wrote out her thoughts in the neatest handwriting she had managed to that date.

Plan A, was scrawled across the top of the page, the simple words Get Home, written beneath, and that was about that for the aforementioned Plan A. It was both simple to think about, and yet incredibly complex, but the hard part of her planning tasks was yet to come. Plan B. The plan for if Plan A fell through. Harriet swallowed the lump in her throat, because if she couldn't get back, then surely that meant she had to start planning for her future there in the past.

Alekhine, her newly named owl, hooted loudly behind her, as if to remind her of all the things she had already acquired there in the past. It wasn't as if it would be impossible to build a life there… but she wanted Hermione and Ron back by her side. She wanted to celebrate the war they'd just won, grieve for the death, and maybe, somehow, put that chapter of her life behind her.

But if that was impossible, and for all she knew it might, then preparations needed to be made. Plan B, she wrote carefully, glaring at the words there. She would need a new identity there in the past – she couldn't be Potter. Her hand almost shook at the words she wrote. Become Lady Slytherin, work out what it means. The words stared at her from the page, black ink sharply contrasting with the yellow-white of the page. Become an auror, she wrote, only to pause and scribble that out. Hadn't she done enough dark wizard catching for one life? Harriet frowned. What even were the classifications for a 'dark' wizard? She tilted her head, chewing on her lip.

"Missstresss," came the familiar, rasping voice of Argentum, her snake. He wasn't just any snake, or so she had found out upon obtaining a guide to all things serpent related. Rather, her new companion was an exceedingly rare horned serpent, of all things, and, coincidentally, they were also delightfully poisonous.

"What is it, Argen?" she murmured, blinking as she felt her snake curl around her, a tongue flicking in and out right next to her ear.

"Warmth," Argentum said, and Harriet rolled her eyes. Oh, the life of a snake was a simple one at that. Part of her was almost jealous. She wondered if she should just learn how to become an animagus and spend some time in animal form. Sirius had said emotions were less complex—and that was a minefield she did not want to step into. She had never really had the time to grieve for him, what with the war which had arrived on her doorstep so soon after. He hadn't even been born yet in that time, so wasn't it possible—

"Bad things happen to witches and wizards who mess with time, Harriet," Hermione's voice floated through her skull, and a familiar, gnawing nervousness which the Dursleys had cultivated rose in her gut. She doubted the consequences would be better than getting wacked over the head with a frying pan, or nearly walloped over the head.

It wasn't like she meant to get booted back the better part of a century. Yet she had, and now she had to deal with the consequences. Which, to her, meant living a very quiet life until she got back home. She couldn't make a fuss, which meant—"Bugger, bugger, bugger," she muttered over and over again, scribbling out her words. "What was I thinking?" she hissed, the change to the snake tongue almost instantaneous as she spared a glance at Argentum. "I can't become Lady Slytherin."

"You are Lady Ssslytherin," Argentum supplied helpfully. "All other sssnakess ssshould know thisss," he claimed, one of his nubby horns poking her in the neck almost painfully as he settled around her shoulders.

"I'm trying to be relatively invisible here," she grumbled, a wave of jealousy hitting her as Argentum promptly made himself invisible to the eye, and she pinched at the bridge of her nose as she stared at her messy notes. She needed to learn more about the unspoken rules and other buried snippets of information about the wizarding world. That much was for certain, if only so she could quietly blend in and live a quiet life in the snake pit, where she'd undoubtedly be sent, given her name.

Argentum ignored her ramblings, content to make himself at home, draped around her like a scarf as she stared at the mess of her abysmal handwriting and the scribbled out words. For the time being, she just needed to keep her head down and start researching runes. If she couldn't figure out anything from there, then… well, she would have to deal with that however she thought best. After all, if she wasn't returning to the present, then she could probably be more lenient with messing with the timeline of events.

Probably.

But then what did she know about time travel? What did anyone know about time travel of that sort of scale?

The book in her hands was cool to the touch, and her eyes ran over the words there, fingers tracing the space where the author's name should have been.

In a Name: A Guide to True Names and Taken Names

She opened the dark book, running her fingers down the spine as she greedily drank in the information there. It had taken her far too long to get around to reading the book, what with reacquainting herself with the Hogwarts Curriculum and her frantic, fruitless runes research.

In times of old, there was a greater significance placed on one's name and with whom such information should be shared—

Interesting, although that didn't tell her why she suddenly seemed to have so many different names. Harriet tilted her head, flicking through the book, but unfortunately there was no explanation as to how time travel could affect ones taken and true names, although…

Sometimes, under certain circumstances, ones true name can be changed, although this is incredibly rare. More often is the case that one's taken name will change, since that is far easier to change, requiring mostly will and intent for magic to recognise one's intent—

Time travel could probably account for something in that, Harriet mused to herself as she went back to look through all the sections she had missed, knowing she would probably end up going back to Flourish and Blotts for more books about the wizarding world. She had already grabbed herself a book on etiquette which she was slowly slogging through, and also realising how she might as well have been blindly fumbling about in the dark when it came to cultures and customs of the world she had so desperately thought of as her real one; the one she loved and had truly thought herself a part of.

But how could it truly be her world when she hadn't known the slightest of things about that place? She had thought of it as some sort of extension of the muggle world; that the rules were still the same, and there was simply magic involved. Oh how wrong she had been, and she was learning that much right then.

Hindsight was ever a complete and utter bitch to her.

A taken name differs from a true name. In times of old, when the fae lingered longer on this earth, giving one's true name gave them, and anyone who had learnt some of their ways a hold over the individual. From this, the rite of taking a new name arose—

Harriet tilted her head. Her taken name, it seemed, was Harriet Evans in that place and time. Her true name was the ostentatious, Aletris Cassiopeia Slytherin. She turned the page of that book, finding herself more and more intrigued. She hadn't even known the fae folk existed – merely a muggle legend – and that in itself was fascinating and humbling, because she hadn't known. It made her feel like a tourist, fumbling about in a culture which she had neither respected nor tried to understand.

The thought of Malfoy declaring both her and Ron to be 'Blood Traitors' suddenly made a lot more sense. Although the thought of the pale blonde still made her want to punch him. It was hardly her fault she hadn't been taught that, and it was his fault for assuming she had.

A soft sigh escaped her.

As the presence of olde magicks faded though, the practise of taking names still remained. Many of the older families had longstanding feuds between them, which often resulted in childhood deaths depending on the severity of the feud. So children were given taken names to hide their true names until they came of age or were otherwise able to defend themselves from attacks—

Harriet frowned, part of her wondering if the Slytherin family had anybody still alive that they were feuding with. Besides those who believed fiercely that the Slytherin line was full of those who despised muggles and muggleborns. She wondered if anyone would despise her for those reasons if her true name ever reached the ears of the masses.

Remember, Aletris, history is written by the victors.

Harriet blinked, eyes widening as she read the note written in a different, neat script at the bottom of that particular page. She shut the book with a snap, lying on her bed as chills ran down her spine yet again, because those words were proof. Proof that someone had put that book there for her to find. She doubted there were that many people called Aletris out there. Though that begged the question of how and why, and Harriet wasn't exactly sure she would like the answers to that.

"Missstresss," Argentum hissed, coils looped over her legs which shifted as she turned over to flop on the bed on her back.

"There's a heated rock for you in your terrarium," Harriet supplied, well aware that Argentum was a fussy snake with a preference for sleeping with her. She was more comfortable and warmer according to her snooty snake.

Argentum hissed, the words imperceptible to her ears.

Harriet sighed softly, listening to her owl as she hooted in the dimness of the night. The moon was high in the sky by then, and she supressed a yawn. "Time to sleep, I think," she murmured, listening to the hoot she got back from her owl in response before she smiled and closed her eyes.