15. THE FIFTH TOWER (part 1)

Hundreds of faces stared at the Headmaster in stunned disbelief, while hundreds of voices tried to find words for the unspeakable. Even the teachers and Mr. Filch had paled and could barely refrain from hurling questions at Dumbledore.

Abolish the Houses!

Laurel saw Snape draw in a deep hissing breath, as if he'd been stabbed in the heart. When she reached for his hand he tried to withdraw it instinctively, but as she would not let go he surrendered and accepted the comfort she offered.

Sirius stood in the back of the Hall and watched the reactions. He could understand the wild emotions that charged through the room, and the thought of his old house vanishing tug a little at his heart, but he had never identified himself by being in a particular house. But he knew that for many students and graduates house-pride was something to take very serious.


Professor Flitwick bent over in a coughing fit, a sign that he was distressed. Gratefully Madame Pomfrey used the opportunity to usher him to the hospital and get away from the confusion and uproar in the Hall.


Dumbledore raised on hand to silence the crowd. "Once upon the time, or rather several hundred years ago, there was a fifth tower in this castle, whereas today we only have four of them. And there was a fifth founder, although we only see the portraits of four in this Hall. But history, as Professor Hunter will confirm," he gave Laurel a wry smile, "history may overlook some people, but it does not forget. What happened can't be erased. Thoughts can't be un-thought. And sometimes what we call the shroud of time, is only a thin mantle of plaster."

He raised his right hand, and without word or wand, a white flash shot right into the wall over the great door.

The walls shook. Students shrieked. Plaster crumbled and fell in large flakes.

And between the paintings of Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff a new image emerged, the face of a witch of indefinable age and curiously silver-streaked hair. Her eyes seemed alive, bright and blue as ice, even if the picture hailed from a time when magical paintings had not been in fashion yet. In her palm the witch held a beautiful butterfly.

"This," Dumbledore nodded at the painting, "is Estella Etherwing, who together with the most famous and gifted witches and wizards of her time founded this school as a place where young people would receive an education in the magical arts But not only that. Hogwarts was to be a beacon of humanity and scholarship in a violent world that tried to extinct magic with fire and sword. Here the students would find a safe place, friends for life, and they'd find … themselves. But then, centuries after Etherwing's death, something happened."

He snipped his fingers, and a gold-framed portrait sailed through the air and reluctantly settled next to the teacher's table.

Dumbledore knocked against the frame. A thin wizard with shaggy grey beard appeared, only to cross his arms defiantly and give the student assembly a solemn stare.

"Etherwing's portrait was covered up, her statue removed, her tower torn down. And ever since that day, students were sorted into the four houses of Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. The Honourable Headmaster Oliver Crombad may have an explanation for that. Don't you, Sir?"

The wizard frowned.

Dumbledore addressed the students again. "They extinguished her name from almost every book, but as some of you know" - his eyes seemed to bore into Hermione's - "there are certain books in the restricted section which have incorruptible ideas about what may be changed in their text."

A wave of his hand conjured a heavy leather-clad volume, bound by magical chains and locks.

The headmaster whispered a few words and the book ceased to struggle. The locks snapped, the chains clanged and the pages flew open all by themselves. An eerie voice started to talk.

"Etherwing, Estella. Collected works. "Ye Olde Art of Transfiguration" - "It takes a castle" - "On Celtic Charms and runes"

The book shut with a dramatic sound.

Dumbledore nodded. "She laid the foundations for what you are getting taught today in Transfiguration class. But she also was a great pedagogue.

"She and her teachings almost caused a disaster," the Headmaster in the frame suddenly yelled, giving up his sullen defiance. "A band of students formed, and they almost succeeded in their rebellion against everything we beheld as right and true. We had to stop them. But more important, we had to make prevent it from ever happening again."

With that he walked out of the frame, but not without a loud "You fool! They'll rise against you as well!" in Dumbledore's direction.

Silence filled the Hall like thick fog.


Eventually Hermione Granger stood up and rose her hand, red as a beet with nervousness,. A quick glance at the head boy and girl had told her they were too stunned to ask any questions, and the other prefects had shown no reaction either.

She cleared her throat. "What is going to happen now, Headmaster?" she asked. "Without the houses, I mean. Where will we … belong?"

"You all shall be re-sorted."

A gasp of pure horror sliced through the air. Most students remembered the sorting with a dull ache in their stomach. All the anxiety and fear. And to go through the whole procedure again?

"But …"

The prefect took a stand. "But if there are no houses, why another sorting?

"The hat will find groups of five. It remembers every student it ever sorted, but since some of you have considerably grown, it will have to take another look at you, just to make sure. And you must not be afraid that there won't be a group for you, as we just took a count and found that the number of students in every year is divisible by five."

"But, Albus!" whispered Minerva McGonagall urgently and tugged on the Headmaster's sleeve to get his attention. "What about the next years? What if one of the students transfers?"

"We'll cross that shaky bridge once we get there," answered Dumbledore as softly. But aloud he said. "Well, then, for the second time this year - let the sorting begin."

"No!"

Draco Malfoy stood up so abruptly, Goyle almost toppled backwards off the bench. "You can't do this! You can't take decisions so grave without consulting the board!"

"That, Mr. Malfoy, let be my concern, will you please?" The wizard's voice made it very clear that he had no intention to discuss or postpone what had to be done.

For a moment Draco froze in mid-motion, unsure whether he dared to leave or not. Then he sat down again, very slowly, and Serene could almost see the words of a letter of screaming complaints composing in his mind.

She was not sure what to think about the Headmaster's step. As a child she'd given her right hand to belong - anywhere. And for a while the thought to belong to Slytherin had been her idea of happiness. She remembered her first evening in Hogwarts as if it had been only yesterday. The sharp disappointment, when the hat had decreed that adult students should not be sorted.

But if there was one authority she respected, one wizard who's wisdom and utter kindness had never failed her, it was Albus Dumbledore. So she guessed, they all would just have to sit and wait what was going to happen.


The Headmaster's wrote a magical sign in the air, and the Sorting Hat appeared, complaining loudly and twitching like mad. Obviously the Hat did not agree with the Headmaster at all.

While the students watched in awe, hat and wizard exchanged whispered unpleasantries. In the end Dumbledore remained successful, and the Hat rose over the assemble, but not without muttering under it's breath, as it started to circle the Great Hall.

"What is this?" Remus asked softly. He certainly remembered some of the people. The older witch who had hugged him with tears in her eyes was Minerva, and he even knew the name of the cat and that it had bitten him many years ago. But other things remained shrouded.

"The Hat used to sort students in their respective houses," Serene explained with a hushed voice. "It is able to determine whether a child will fit in best in either Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw."

"But the Hat was created by all five founders," Dumbledore interfered, speaking up so the students concentrated on him and forgot to stare at the still circling hat. "It incorporates a part of every founder: Slytherin's shrewdness to find the five different minds, five different personalities who'd complete each other., Gryffindor's courage to state facts nobody would dare to mention. Hufflepuff's knowledge about the merit of loyalty. Ravenclaw's patience where minds are to study. And Etherwing's believe that the plain brown chrysalis will one day turn into a thing of beauty."


The Hat had finished its search and returned to the High Table. Grumpily it sat on it's stand and kept talking to itself until the Headmaster tapped it rather hard.

Huffily the magical artefact cleared it's brim. Old dust rose and glittered in the shine of a hundred candles.

"Well, well, well," rasped the Hat. "You wanted it. So don't blame me, when this gets out of hand. Cause it will."

"Let that be my concern." Dumbledore sat down. "Do what only you can do, and let me deal with the result."

The Hat coughed. "You are right, Headmaster. Only I can do it! I remember you all as you sit there at the High Table. You - such a brilliant mind, and such romantic ideas. And the little McGonagall girl. Transfigurations it was, wasn't it?"

Minerva gave the Hat a stern stare, but it went on babbling as if it tried to win time.

"And Severus Snape, well, we had a word or two in silence, hadn't we?"

The Potions master scowled. "We did. But this is not the time for reminiscences, is it?"

"And there's the Lupin boy! I always knew you'd end up at the High Table!" the Hat exclaimed, ignoring Snape's rebuff. "See, I told you, it didn't matter that you are a w… "

A hard smack on the crown by the Headmaster let the Hat wince.

"Do what you are supposed to do! Let's talk about the future, not the past."

Serene let out a breath she had not even known she held. Two more weeks to go, and it became harder every day not to answer Remus' questions. And now that stupid felt cone had almost said the W-word …

Remus frowned and shook his head in confusion. "It didn't matter that I was what?" he asked softly. "What is everybody talking around, Serene? What is wrong with me?"

She stroked his hand under the table. "Nothing is wrong with you, love. And your memory will return, I promise. Just be patient. Please, it is for your own good."

He sat silent for a few moments, then he pushed back his chair. "I need some air. I'll take a walk."

When Serene rose, he raised a hand to hold her back. "No. I … I really need some time by myself." His mouth set in a hard line. "Maybe something I see triggers my memory."

She dug her fingernails in her palm. She could not tie him to her wrist, could she? But she'd almost lost him once - and that had scared her more than she cared to admit.

Remus' face got soft, when he saw the look in her eyes. She worried about him. It gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling. "Nothing will happen to me, I promise," he said gently and touched her cheek. "I'll be back."

When he slipped out the back door, the Sorting began.


* * *


An hour later, Remus sat on a bench in the Owlery and stared into darkness. The walk through the castle had left him even more confused. There were so many things he remembered, but that made him only more aware how much he'd forgotten.

Eventually he'd ended up here, in this circular room with he high ceiling. He knew that this was the place where the students and staff kept their owls, but right now the room was almost empty.

Remus drew his knees to his chest and let his head rest. He could not go on like this. All the confusion. The seizures and the mind-numbing pain. But then - he had Serene, hadn't he? When he remembered her in his arms a few hours ago, a dull ache filled his heart. Something had happened between them, before … before he'd lost his memory. Something that'd scared her. And him.

He sighed. He couldn't remember anything about that event but the look of utter shock in her eyes and his own sinking feeling.

"Lupin, you must have been such a fool," he sighed into darkness.

"I never thought so," answered a young voice, and Remus' head jerked up. Lost in thoughts he had not even noticed another visitor to the Owlery.

Hermione lit her wand with a soft word, and stood by the wall, unsure what to do. Madam Pomfrey had warned the students that Professor Lupin had lost his memories, and must not be pushed on his way to recovery. So she chose her words carefully.

"You are a good teacher, and I always enjoyed your class." When he did not answer, she paled. "You know you were a teacher here, don't you? You remember that?"

Remus smiled at her obvious distress. "I remember that. I even remember your name, Miss Granger, and I remember the circumstances of our first encounter. Something with a Dementor, wasn't it?"

She nodded, relieved she'd not blown it. "Are you alright, Professor? I mean, why are you sitting here in the dark Owlery instead of the Hall?"

"I just wanted a little privacy."

"I did not mean to disturb you. I only need an owl …" She looked around and saw the empty perches. Sighing she stuffed the rolled parchment back into her sleeve. "Looks like the others were faster than me."

"An urgent letter, Miss Granger?" He patted the seat next to him. "How did the new sorting go?"

Hermione sat down and let her head hang low. "It was a disaster. I guess that's why there are no owls left. Every student must have written home today!"

He kept silent in sympathy for a moment, then he asked, part out of curiosity, part because he knew it would help her to come to terms with the situation if she set it in words.

"So where to did you get sorted?"

"There is no 'where' anymore," Hermione replied with a grave voice. "There is only a 'who". My 'group'. Like kindergarten."

Remus had to suppress a smile when he heard the doom in her voice. "And your group is so disastrous?"

"Not ... all of them."

"Well, who is it?"

She sighed. "There is Ron and Neville."

"Ron ... tall lanky kid with red hair and obnoxious brothers." Remus smiled in delight. "And I think Neville got something to do with a toad, hasn't he?"

Hermione nodded. "Trevor was his pet toad, until Professor Snape ... Neville got a cat now, almost bigger than Crookshanks."

"So this Crookshanks is another member of you little party of friends now?"

"Crookshanks is my cat." She laughed and Remus congratulated himself. His memory might be dim, but her remembered that ferocious cat of hers very well.

"Harry is also in my group," continued Hermione. "Which is not half bad, I assume. Others got sorted with four bastards, and I only got one." She blushed. "I mean, with four people they do not get along with."

"I recall the correct word is indeed "Bastard"," replied Remus with a deadpan voice. "So this Harry is one? A b..."

"No!" Hermione's eyes widened. "Harry's one of my best friends, and you ..." Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my, you don't remember Harry?"

"I have no idea who he is."

"Black hair, green eyes? With a scar on the forehead?" she tried, but only produced more head shaking. "You taught him to call his Patronus."

Remus frowned. "A stag. Big silvery stag," he murmured.

"Right."

"I'll remember this Harry sooner or later," Remus sighed. "But you seem to be rather happy with Ron and Neville and Harry. So who is the fifth?"

Hermione's teeth set on edge. "Malfoy."

"Lucius?"

She stared at him.

"Lucius must be ... well, he's my age ..." Remus raked through his hair. "He's got a son then?"

"Draco. He's a b... We don't get along too well."

"Why?"

With a groan Hermione raised both hands. "Why should we? He's ancient wizard bloodline, I'm the first witch in my family. He's rich, I'm not. He's smart, I'm smarter." She scowled. "And he hates that! And of course he's Slytherin, and I am Gryffin..." Her voice faded.

"Not anymore. Maybe that's what Dumbledore intended."

She stared at her shoes. "Taking away what connects us with some to take away what keeps us apart from others."

A soft sound made both of them look up. Serene stood in the Owlery door.

"Hermione, you should go to bed, " she suggested friendly. "I understand, sleeping arrangements remain the same, at least for the time being."

The girl nodded. "It is late. Thank you helping me make sense of it, Professor Lupin."

Remus smiled. "You did al the important thinking by yourself, Miss Granger."

"Then thank you for listening."

She slipped out of the Owlery, and Serene held out a hand. "Let's go home."

Outside the castle Remus drew her close to him, breathing in the scent of her hair, feeling her warmth and her heartbeat.

"This abolition of Houses. Should I be distressed?" he asked softly. "Did I care about my House?"

Serene rested her head on his shoulder. "I don't know." A long sigh escaped. "Remy?"

"Hmm?"

"Once you got your memory back, we should talk about all this. Lets talk about the little things. What kind of ice-cream we like best. Our favourite books. Favourite Muggle movies."

"Beauty and the Beast, the French original," Remus said without thinking. "I have no idea what it is about, but I remember I liked it."

He kissed her forehead. "Let's go home. To bed."


* * *


As Dumbledore expected, his study was not empty.

The dark tall wizard in front of the fire threw more shadows than physically possible. The Bloody Baron hovered over Snape's left shoulder, and scowled when the Headmaster entered. Drawing his sword, he charged - and halted in mid-air when Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"Will you let me explain, Severus?"

The Potions master did not turn, and his voice was so cold, it was a miracle the fire kept burning.

"There once was a wizard who taught me to honour traditions."

"Severus …"

"And now you abolish all tradition. For what?"

Dumbledore let the words sink in. "You have every right to be angry. But what we consider tradition, was new once and unheard of. Take Slytherin Tower, for instance. You never use it. Most students don't even know there is a Slytherin Tower. But centuries ago the House of Slytherin resided in a tower, and the mere thought of making students live in a dungeon would have caused uproar. So, you see, traditions change. And every new tradition has to start somewhere."

"Why?"

Snape turned around, his face white with suppressed fury. "Why fix something that is not broken? The four houses worked just fine."

"Did they really, Severus?" Dumbledore's eyes filled with sympathy and something close to pity. "The wizard you are today … Did you become who you are because of being in Slytherin or in spite of it?"

Time froze.

Even the Bloody Baron, furious himself for the tout that had been delivered to his house, ceased to race through the walls of the lab.

"A long time ago," Dumbledore said so softly, Snape could barely understand him, "two young boys started school. And from their first day we knew they were special." He sighed and seemed to look beyond the walls, back in time. "Both incredibly gifted, both fiercely dedicated. If they had combined their respective talents, they'd have delivered the world of Voldemort long ago."

Defiantly Snape stepped back.

"You are talking about James Potter, aren't you?"

"James … yes." The Headmaster nodded slowly. "James ... and you, Severus."

The younger wizard scowled. "Potter and I? You must have been sadly mistaken, Albus. We never had any common ground whatsoever."

"See?" Dumbledore got up and started pacing the room with the agility of a much younger wizard. "Did you ever ask yourself why you disliked each other from the first day on?"

""I did not dislike him," protested Snape. "I just …"

"You just wanted to stay with your house because it was safer, wasn't it?"

"I desperately needed a home. You know why." The Potions masters face clouded over. "And James … He had friends of his own in Gryffindor."

"I once asked James the same questions, you know?" Dumbledore reached into his sleeve and produced something that looked like a glass marble, with silver liquid swirling in it like a minuscule galaxy. Snape had seen time capsules before, but never such a small one and never so casually held. They were incredibly precious and frail, and once dropped, the memory they contained evaporated and was lost.

Dumbledore let the capsule roll over his palm and before Severus could react, it shattered on the stone floor.

A silvery grey shape rose from the ground, parted, formed, solidified. Suddenly there was another Dumbledore standing before him, very much like the one he remembered from his later school years. Next to him a boy with unruly dark hair, probably sixth or seventh year, sat on a Quidditch trunk and tuned his broom. The resemblance with Harry Potter almost took Severus' breath. It was one thing to see James' son day after day in class, and another to stand just yards away from his now dead former rival.

"The things we spoke about, James," said Dumbledore the Younger, "are dangerous. I'd feel much better if you were not so adverse to work together with Snape."

James frowned. "Syltherin' Snape? I don't think so."

"But why?"

"Because he's Slytherin. And I am Gryffindor."

Dumbledore the Older sighed. "You see? Back then I did not comprehend what he really meant. But I do now."

The content of the capsule was spent and the memory settled like dust on the floor.

"The houses kept apart what was supposed to be together."

"Oh really?" Snape's voice dripped with cynicism. "Let me guess. Potter and I in a circle with three more students. That's the model now, isn't it? So that would have been Potter and I and who? Malfoy? O'Brien?" He gingerly touched the silvery dust with the tip of his boot. "And don't tell me, Pettigrew and I could ever have been friends, because I am not buying that!"

"Potter. Snape. Evans. Black. Lupin." Dumbledore shrugged. The perfect circle. Meant for life."

"Evans." Snape closed his eyes. "Lily. She was ... kind."

"So she was." The Headmaster held out a hand as a peace offering. "Severus, I know you only want the best for your students. But do you really believe that house rivalry and the kind of arrogant intolerance the system produces, will do them any good? Do you believe that …. let's say, Draco Malfoy … finds support of the kind he needs with his croonies in Slytherin?"

Snape took a deep breath and thought about Malfoy's increasingly problematic behaviour. "Probably not. But his … circle … is just ridiculous. Potter, Granger, Weasley and Longbottom of all students! How is Draco to fit in, with four Gryffindors and him the only Slytherin?"

"No!" Dumbledore impatiently shook his head. "He is not Slytherin anymore. You all must get that into your head. He is Draco Malfoy. Unique."

"Unique," Snape repeated with a strange hitch in his voice. "He is, isn't he? They all are."

"So were you." Dumbledore's smile embraced him. "You still are. You are Severus Snape. Not Slytherin."

Two hands touched, and a firm grip confirmed the bond between the two wizards.


* * *


When Minerva McGonagall looked out of her window the very next morning, her mouth fell open.

Right in the middle of the former courtyard a tower had … well, grown, she thought, for the castle very much resembled an organic being that reacted to the needs of it's inhabitants.

"A fifth tower to watch so seventh years won't sneak up there to make out," she grumbled, while she finished her morning exercise. "Just what we always wanted."