Title: The Silent Spectre

Summary: The reactions in the Hall after Harry left, and the next morning.

Disclaimer: Really, now. Don't be daft. No characters were hurt in the making of this production, and will be returned…er…bloodless and injury-less to the rightful owner, Mrs. Rowling.


The Great Hall was in an uproar. Two Gryffindor seventh year boys were shouting loudly over the sound of shakily chattering Ravenclaws, sobbing Hufflepuffs, and the low murmuring of the Slytherins, as well as the shouting of their own house. It took Headmaster Dumbledore three bangs with his wand and a purple sparkler to restore order.

"Now," He said when silence fell. "There is no need to worry at the moment, we can assure you that the wards would not have let this…person in if they meant us harm in any way. It looked to me that an injured and dazed boy came in and didn't realize what was happening. Mr. Snape…did he try to communicate with you?" Snape paused for a split second, then answered.

"Yes, sir. I don't think he can speak, but he was mouthing words."

"And were you able to comprehend them?"

"A few, sir. He said the same thing twice, I think, but the only part I got was 'what's going on'".

"Very well, Mr. Snape. Thank you. Professors! We must find this young man at once, he is bleeding from many wounds and will not last the night. Fawkes! See if you can sense him…no? Well, Prefects, Head Boy…yes, Mr. Potter, that's you, and Head Girl, thank you Miss Evans, please join us. Slytherin Prefects, Mr. Snape and Miss Ludwig take the dungeons with Professor Dominick, Miss Releli and Mr. Brown of Ravenclaw, take Ravenclaw grounds with Professor Flitwick, Mr. Grone, please follow Professor Sprout with Miss Buld to Hufflepuff territory, and Mr. Lupin, Miss Legan, take Gryffindor tower, with Mr. Potter. Miss Evans, take the third floor, please. Professor McGonagall, take fourth and fifth, I'll take first and second, Hagrid, please search the grounds. Professor Vector, the Astronomy Tower and the stairs, Fawkes, if you could send a message to Professor Lubanie in her Divination Tower, tell her to search thoroughly…"

So the search began, with the Slytherins moving towards the door that the boy just went through. Severus kept his head down, staring at the bloody streaks on the stone and following their direction. Amelia Ludwig walked just behind him, beside the Slytherin Head of House. He opened the door and moved through, drawing his wand and lighting it to see the streaks of blood. He followed them down one staircase and down another dimly lit corridor…before they suddenly veered towards the wall and utterly vanished.

"What?" He muttered quietly.

"What is it?" Dominick asked.

"They're gone." Snape said. Dominick came up beside him, examining in the light of the wand the bloody streaks that stopped abruptly at the wall. From behind them, Amelia gave a shocked little cry, making them both turn. She was pointing at the wall, where a carving of a snake adorned a stone, and where a smallish, bloody handprint marked the wall.

When the search parties returned in the morning, exhausted and downtrodden, they were each forced to say that they'd seen neither hide nor hair of the dark, bloody boy.

"I did find sumthin, Perfessor Dumbledore." Hagrid said. "Na much, just some bloody streaks on the steps ou' front."

"Yes, I saw those too. Thank you, Hagrid." Dumbledore said tiredly. "Unfortunately, I don't think the boy would have lived through the night, so step up the search to find his body."

"Oh, Albus…" McGonagall murmured. "That poor, poor child…"


When Harry woke groggily six hours later, he realized with disgust that his clothes were absolutely coated in cooling blood, and on the rich green rug in front of him was a stain that looked rather familiar, and it hit him with the force of a tidal wave that he'd been sent back in time…creating the past as he would find it in the future.

Twenty years forward in time the stain would be faded, musty, but still dark, still there. Disgusted, Harry turned away, stripping out of his robes and examining the oozing wounds. His head was clearer now, and he was relieved to feel his mind whirling; planning and thinking and trying to figure out what to do. He simply couldn't be a student…he looked too much like James Potter, and he was sure that Professor Snape or Lupin would have mentioned a Potter look-a-like in James Potter's seventh year…and that last thing he wanted to do was create a paradox.

He also needed to figure out how to counteract the spell on him that prevented his wounds from healing, but before that he had to make enough blood replenishing potions to last him quite a while. Eventually, however, he had to find a way home.

Since he was reasonably awake and aware, he decided to explore the maze of underground passages. He'd never been able to do so in the future as there was never enough time.

To his disappointment there was no trace of Salazar Slytherin himself, no scraps of paper or any books that mentioned him. There was one room in the entire maze that had even the barest furnishings, the one he'd collapsed it. Besides the old, faded, richly padded rug, there was a small, plain bed as well as a wardrobe. Both bed and wardrobe were made of a soft, sanded, cream-colored wood with a swirling grain. The bed was immaculately made, if dusty, with white linen sheets and a light, soft sea-foam green blanket. Inside the wardrobe was only the poll to hang clothing on, other than that it was empty. No paintings hung on the walls, nor was the bed a four-poster, just a plain, single-person sized bed. The entire effect was impersonal and calming.

Outside there were mazes and mazes of dark, shadowy corridors, with only the occasional old torch on the wall that flared feebly to life when he approached and died again after he passed. He came to only the occasional room, empty, covered in dust, and smelling musty. To his surprise, the only door in the entire place was the one to the furnished room, and therefore the only one that had preserving charms on it. In the future each room was equipped with a plain wood door, but in the past the only remains was a few splinters on the floor, an old iron handle, and piles and piles of dust.

Finally what seemed like years later, to Harry at least, he found a brightly lit room made entirely of black stone. The lighting was a bright, eerie white, and the effect was slightly chilling. There was no crackle from the torches on the walls, only a dead and ominous silence. On the ground, however, he found many hundred tiny tiles, multi-colored and glittering in the firelight. Stepping forward, Harry started to examine the floor, tracing with his eyes the brightly colored lines. Most of the tile was black, he saw, but in one corner there was a picture of a fire. Frowning, Harry started there, studying the picture. The flames seemed to dance they looked so real, brightly orange and yellow and gold. There was a white line connecting the picture of the fire to the next one, the shape of ghostly trees in the distance on top of a darkened mountain. Bending down, Harry saw what looked like a large, treacherous body of water, brackish water and silt-covered shores.

The next picture depicted the same scene, but for the fact that three figures stood inside it, too small in the distance to see clearly, but definitely there. They stood side by side, still, silent, eerily closed. And the next picture showed another picture, this the same scene, with the brackish, darkened lake and twisted trees, but this time there was a pile of stones, seemingly set about strategically. With a jolt, Harry realized that he recognized something about this picture…the placing of the stones and the blackish lake, faraway, twisted trees…

Was this mosaic the story of Hogwarts itself?

Gradually, the pictures grew brighter, more cheerful. The twisted trees were destroyed, and new, brighter ones replaced them. The dark, ominous lake was cleared, and glittered blue-green in another picture. And in the very middle of the room was a picture of Hogwarts standing tall and proud atop a rounded hill, flags waving cheerfully, pupils moving about with the bright, cheerful lake glittering in the distance.

The next picture was much the same, but the flags were older now, not quite as cheerful. The sun didn't shine in this picture, and Hogwarts grounds were empty of students. The lake reflected the clouds above, but didn't glitter.

Slowly the pictures grew darker again. The castle came closer to the castle Harry knew now…tired, old and groaning. The trees that had been so youthful and bright grew older, taller, and stronger, and the lake continued to glitter in the sun for a while. But finally one picture changed the scene. The landscape was much the same…the lake shone blindingly, and the trees stretched high into the sky. But the castle was crumbled a little on the corner.

And suddenly, the pictures didn't shine so much…the lake sparkled less, and the trees grew more twisted. Picture by picture showed the castle crumbling, the lake growing brackish, the trees becoming twisted old men from the bright, healthy youths they once were. The castle crumbled to mere stones, and eventually vanished altogether. The picture remaining was exactly the same as the first one…dark, ominous, and evil.

With a little jolt in his stomach, Harry turned resolutely around, leaving the eerie room in favor of the twisting corridors, making his way carefully and following his footsteps in the dust, returning to the plainly furnished room that he would sleep in.


A/N: Well, thats the next chapter. I know its rather dull, but the next chapter will hopefully be out tomorrow and will be much more interesting. Unfortunately, this was an important chapter and I did not want to cloud it by adding a more interesting scene. Hope you like it anyways.