2. Fair Sonnes and Maidens.
Harry was speechless. "Professor, I....I..."
"Relax, Harry," said Dumbledore, placing the leather object in a desk drawer. "I am as mystified as you are, even after hearing this relic tell a remarkable story.....and a very credible one, by the amount of odd knowledge it has."
"Such as?"
"For one thing, it spoke modern English to Hagrid, but now chooses to converse in a very old form. I have a Lingus charm working in this room to translate, or you would not easily understand what it said. Despite its being buried in the bog, it has the outline of a modern safety pin impressed in it. It knows the Hogwarts staff of almost a thousand years ago, yet knows the names of new students who were sorted only yesterday -- and it knows your friends, Ron and Hermione, who it says were also involved when it met its fate in the forest in the 11th century."
After stunned silence, Harry tried to answer. "After three years here, sir, I've learned to accept the near-impossible. But I don't see how I ..... Professor, you know me better than I know myself. I'm 14 years old, and could not have lived in the 11th century!"
"Yes, I understand, Harry. And as you say, we always seem to have a way to accomplish the oddest, near-impossible things. You shan't be surprised, then, if I tell you there is a way it might have happened.... or will happen."
"Okay... but, sir, why would I ever throw the Sorting Hat away?"
"Interesting question, is it not? Moreover, it suggests we had more than one hat at some time. That raises a very serious point. If our present-day Sorting Hat is not the real one, then why is it here? How was it changed? The object is quick to name you in its demise as a hat, but is strangely silent about the circumstances preceding that moment. The Ministry is most concerned, since the hat has so much effect on the magic world."
Harry was still puzzled. "Aside from my name being booted around, how am I involved in this?"
"The Ministry does not carelessly disturb time, other than the most trivial events of the immediate past. The distant past would be a most serious intrusion. If anyone were to be assigned to correct this situation, it would be people who are already in the picture, so to speak -- in this case, you and your friends, even though you are underage wizards. Naturally, I'm very concerned for you in this matter."
"But... if this all happened long ago, how would they have us do anything to correct it now?"
"By going there, Harry. They would have you go to the 11th century."
* * *
If Harry was in a tizzy about all this, Ron and Hermione were twice as befuddled. "He wants us to do WHAT??"
"You heard me," said Harry. "Dumbledore and the Ministry want to pitch us back a thousand years to straighten this out -- and without doing anything horrible which might change history."
Ron smiled. "Like shoving a Malfoy in front of a horse cart? Lord, I'd be doing society a favour."
"You'd better pray he's not your ancestor," warned Hermione.
"I'd recognise my ancestors -- by their great good looks and charm. Wouldn't be a Malfoy."
Harry returned them to reality. "Don't ask me how they plan to do this -- perhaps it's a big version of McGonagall's little Time-Turner -- but they really mean it, so we'd better think how we really want to handle it. Dumbledore has already said he'll give us the translation charm called Lingus, which will allow us to converse with the people back then.
"They can dress us appropriately, and give us coins of the day and all that. We'll have good food with us, and he says the trip will only take a day of our school year. Since the other hat mentions Hedwig, she'll be with us too. We'll go to Hogwarts around the year the hat was enchanted to sort, and see if we can solve this puzzle. What else?"
"The obvious," said Hermione. "I know a little history of that time, but that doesn't really tell me how people lived, or how we should act without giving ourselves away. We're going to look and sound weird to them."
"Good point. We can ask Dumbledore for any advice, so there's an item: we need someone intimately familiar with the 11th century to train us up quickly. We can't very well bring Binns along.... not that it matters, but even Nicholas Flamel wasn't that old."
"Oh, it's easy," suggested Ron, with a smirk. "Just hunt around the school and find the ghost of Godric Gryffindor."
A moment later, Hermione's eyes lit up. "Actually, Ron, that's a good idea! Harry, why not take Godric along?"
Ron couldn't believe she had bought it. "Why not? Um, let me think now. Hmmm. Well, he might be off to Brighton on holiday... or maybe he doesn't get posts because he's allergic to owls. No? Hmmm.... this is a tough one. Do I get a third guess? Then, could it be -- because he's been DEAD MOST OF A THOUSAND YEARS?"
By then, Harry had deduced what Hermione might be thinking. "No, Ron, it's a brilliant idea! That's exactly what we'll do....
"We'll bring Godric Gryffindor."
* * *
Dumbledore also understood, and honoured Harry's request to visit the Headmaster's office alone, for a chat with one of the office's other inhabitants.
The tired old wizard's cap was back, looking down at him from its time-honored place on a high bookshelf. "Keeping it under your hat, Potter?"
"Well," said Harry, "We have a bit of a problem on our hands, and I was reminded of a line from your song at the sorting."
"One of my finest songs, I must say. Care to hear those two songs you missed in the previous first-nights?"
"Uh -- thank you, no need. I was --"
"It wouldn't be a problem. I have excellent memory for all my songs... a new one every year! Although, the early ones might sound a bit odd to the ears today. My very first one began:
"Why, that first year I sorted Brian, called o Troightheach... a difficult one, he was, a Tipperary lad who thought in Gaelic; but I managed. He was one of the early 'Catchers' after they started the game at the Marsh, y'know, and his direct descendant is a Chaser on the Irish Quidditch team today.... although the family name's shortened to Troy now."
"Oh, yeah, saw him score in the World Cup," interjected Harry. "But, I'm afraid I don't have all that much time to...."
"And none of us do! You're still young, though, while I've been performing my sorting tasks for 989 years!"
"You don't look or act a day over 800." Harry's expression and impatient pacing must have told the hat he was not to be deterred any longer.
"I digress, eh? All right then," sighed the hat. "What line intrigues you, Potter?"
"I believe you said Gryffindor took you from his head and charmed you."
"Ah yes --
"Exactly," said Harry, stopping the hat from rolling on.
"And so...?"
"So you are Godric Gryffindor."
The hat was stunned; he had never been addressed so. "To some degree, I must admit, I have always seen myself as a Godric... a shadow of his memories, his thoughts, his words."
"And his cleverness and magic, too; I shan't ever forget. You brought me his sword when Hogwarts was in danger."
"And you yourself were in danger," replied the hat, "even more so than Hogwarts. The sword was yours to use, and you called upon it."
"I owe you and Fawkes for nothing less than my life. Now I need to call upon you again... for your brains."
"Such as they are?"
"Exactly as they are. We have a job to do, and we'll need the wisdom of a Godric with us."
"You sound as if we're about to go into battle."
"Hopefully not...but if you're willing to go, it might prove every bit as exciting as our last venture."
"Is this 'Try trap, hero' again, Potter?"
"With your help, maybe we can avoid any traps. If you're allowed to go with us, I'm sure Dumbledore will have to insure your safe return, so you can continue sorting."
"And singing."
"Of course."
"Interesting invitation."
"And if you wish to join, just say so. Should we call you Godric?"
The hat hesitated, but not for long. "No, I am not worthy of that. But on to the fray, Harry, on to the fray!"
* * *
Hermione felt put down. "Did I hear right, Professor? Three teenagers could traipse off to the past alone, and the world has no problem. But once we want to bring the hat along, suddenly it has to be approved by the Ministry? What's wrong with this?"
Dumbledore looked up from his desk. "In a sense, they're approving your trip as well. You three are underage, and would be performing magic away from school by intrusive time-moving. It wouldn't hurt to get your magic approved ahead of time, just this once!
"But you are correct, Hermione," he continued, "they didn't seem too bothered on your part, as long as they were aware. Their deep concern is, the Sorting Hat is a charmed Muggle artifact, and an historic one at that. They would be very displeased if it were to be lost a thousand years in the past, with what it knows. But Ronald's father has been able to get the approvals... since one of his own sons would be with it at all times."
Ron grinned. "Finally, I've been discovered!"
The Sorting Hat joined the conversation. "Always liked Arthur Weasley. He's the perfect man to get this venture approved; his name is an anagram for 'We Salute Harry,' did you know."
Harry rolled his eyes, but Dumbledore smiled. "You do love your anagrams, don't you?"
"It's surprising I had never found them so entertaining until the Riddle incident. Now I'm fascinated by them. You must try doing them my way -- no writing, all mental!"
Ron snickered. "Sounds mental, all right."
* * *
The Ministry tightly controlled the very few time-moving gates, which were of ancient construction and never used except to correct the most drastic anomolies. The only gate yet discovered in Scotland was about 16 miles away, at the other end of the glacial valley by the Muggle village of Althers. There, far off the roads, was an old Druid site called the Witching Walk, known only to magical folk. An ordinary portkey was available there for modern-day tourists, but only attended a few hours a week. It would be just as simple to fly.
So, the entourage went by broom in late afternoon. For Harry, it was his first true cross-country flight, out of sight of Hogwarts, and quite different from circling around the lake.
They were led by Dumbledore, and of course they had never seen their headmaster fly before. He was quite good at it, as old as his broom was, and the three were busied keeping up with him, constantly adjusting course and altitude to stay out of sight of farmhouses, roads and the villages of Bumpus and Althers. Hedwig had left earlier on a direct route; she was waiting for them.
On arrival, Dumbledore directed them to a cave, whose doorway was hidden by a charm. There, the brooms could be stashed safely. Nearby was an ancient stone gateway, and the actual time-moving gate was the constantly-moving shadow of the keystone.
Dumbledore fussed over the three travelers, acting very much like a mum bundling her children off to their first weekend away.
"The gate has been instructed as to the proper year and date, coming and going. Be your usual selves, but don't step on pompous toes. You boys will carry these short swords, called whingers, just because most men carry one; let's not use them to dice anyone's ancestors by mistake. You have pencils and paper for owl posts to each other, if you need them. Remember your wands and magic are not for Muggle eyes, if at all possible.
"Miss Granger, you will be the 'cover story' for the visit, as we discussed. You've read the most about the era, and about the school's history; you will be an excellent advisor to steer your team. Remember, though, to depend on the hat for its first-hand knowledge of the day.
"And," he added with a twinkle in his eye, "if you would do me the favour, Miss Granger, mind your not setting fire to anyone named Dumbledore."
Setting fire? Why... He couldn't know about Snape! ...oh, wait, doesn't he always. She smiled back. "Yes, Professor, I'll control myself."
"Mr. Weasley, likewise? Hopefully any Malfoy ancestors will survive your visit? (Rats! thought Ron.) In this pack, you are carrying the expedition's provisions, and you will dole it out. Stream water should be safe to drink, but draw it away from any farms or towns. You also have the soap and whatnot, as sanitation is late coming, and a basic medical kit. In the padding is something Harry asked to bring.
"Mr. Potter, there will be no Voldemort to deal with, but remember that Salazar Slytherin and any rabid followers are of concern to you. You will wear the Sorting Hat. The leather patches on your shoulders and forearms are not unlike a falconer's; they are for Hedwig to ride. I would suggest you keep her close, so she is not hunted down. With Hedwig and the hat, you may feel a bit topheavy at first, but once they're accustomed to moving about this way, it will help you balance the load.
"It should be quite a treat to visit the very founders of Hogwarts. All right then?"
"All right, sir," answered all three.
"Then, as we practiced. Stand in the shadow of the gateway keystone, and together say 'The past, quickly.' The wording is, 'Ealddaeg afysan'."
The three teens, the old hat and the fidgety owl shuffled into place in the shadow, looked at each other, and nodded the downbeat. Four were heard to say "EALDDAEG AFYSAN!", and one said "OOK!" (the same in owl talk), and they were gone. No flash, no melodramatic puff of smoke, no sound -- just gone.
Dumbledore stood looking at the spot for a long time. He had been a teenager at Hogwarts when he first heard about this gate to the past. How many times he had dreamed then, of stepping in and saying whatever mysterious words were needed. How many times since! Now, he was far, far too old for such adventures.... Well, back to Hogwarts. I've missed the banquet. Perhaps the kitchen is still open; I could do with a nice dish of pudding, before bedtime.
