Disclaimer: I am not J.K. and I don't own Harry… SIGH…

A/N: LO SIENTO! I am soooo sorry this took forever, and I really appreciate everyone being so tolerant with me… you see, I kind of hurt myself, (I'm very clumsy), and I now have a herniated disk. So my back is like…uggg. That's why I've been churning out fluff non-stop. It makes me feel better. This story makes me think. I know there are MUCH better stories out there, so be nice… this was the first one I started writing. Remember, if you are confused, just ask, 'cuz hopefully I can answer! Once again, thanks to the loverly CLAIRE-Chan! What would I do without you dear?

"I think we're lost." Emeline told Castor.

"Wow. Your grasp of the obvious is astounding." Castor had opened the door to see a beautiful, yet cold, corridor. It was a few meters wide and the wallpaper was a deep, blood red. A golden Fleur de Lis pattern contrasted against the crimson and along both walls there were four different life size portraits. Eight altogether. Each frame was softened by gold satin curtains tied back with tassels the color of beeswax.

Emeline sneered. "That was rude."

"And you're not?"

Castor heard the rustle of fabric, and grew tense. "Shhh…" He whispered softly to Emeline, pointing at the portraits.

"Oh, it's no use!" said an unfamiliar and agitated deep voice. Castor turned for the door, and tried the golden handle. It was locked. He raised his wand. "Alohamora" he whispered. Still locked. He raised his wand a second time to try something different, but the portrait spoke again.

"We know you're here, now that you've gone and woken us up. How long has it been, Rowena?"

"I am not sure, Godric. My label has faded more, I'd say about a century since we spoke to the last one." A female voice answered.

A second female voice chimed in. "And what a sweet boy he was, too! What was his name again? Quite a long one…"

"Alfred. No, wait… maybe it was Albert?" said Rowena.

"It was Albusss you ssenile piecess of canvasssss! Albusss Dumbledore. Am I the only one who ever remembersss anything?" This voice, Castor observed, was an unpleasant, shrill hiss. This was obviously Salazar, the infamous parselmouth.

"Hello?" Emeline said so quietly only Castor heard her. The four portraits on the right wall chattered on. "Hello?" She said more forcefully. This time the low rumble of voices abruptly ceased.

"Come on dearies, come and talk to us. You won't be able to leave until you've learned what you were lead here to learn. That's how we made this place." Helga Hufflepuff's dusty portrait claimed. "We want to see you."

Emeline and Castor walked the ten paces towards the cherry frames and satin curtains. They looked to their right as they did, taking in the large canvases dusty from years of sedentary occupants.

"You don't have to be afraid of us. We are just paint and fabric, after all." Rowena had always been the logical one.

"What are we doing here?"

"You must be a Weasley!" Helga looked absolutely delighted. "I can tell. It's all in the nose…a wonderful wizarding family if I ever saw one."

"Yep. That's the Weasley nose for you." His reply was positively dripping with sarcasm.

"You, girl! A Malfoy, no doubt about that. Darkesst magic runss deep in your veinsss. What'ss your name?"

"I'm Emeline. It's an honour sir." She folded into a perfect curtsy aimed at Salazar's portrait. "I'm a proud member of your house."

"I sseee… Weasley? To what noble houssse have you been sssorted?"

"Gryffindor, sir." Godric's grin could be seen a mile away. "The name is Castor."

"Ah!" Godric yelled. "A strong name indeed."

Rowena clapped her hands, the color and texture of faded parchment. "So, let's get down to business, shall we? Why is a Weasley here, of all places, with a Malfoy?"

"It's about the prophecy. The one about the ultimate power. I think it was seen even before you were around. Anyway, somebody tried to steal it from the Department of Mysteries, where my father works. I found out whom that somebody was, and I thought Emeline, and my friend Andy, might be in danger. So I brought her to this room I found, and somehow, we ended up here."

"You have come by one of the many doors through which few will ever come to this place." Rowena looked solemn. "That prophecy came from a chaotic time, before the concrete distinctions between light and dark magic. When lines were blurred. Utter anarchy."

Godric chimed in. "It told of time when good and evil would organize and fight for dominion over the Earth. One man, protector of all that is good and one son of darkness would fight and cause each other pain. They both would live to carry on their legacy in two children."

Now it was Helga's turn… "These children would find each other when the time came. They would be twin souls, that is, one soul ripped in half and placed into two different bodies with separate and distinct personalities. Because their parents would be so magical, and their fathers' bond so passionate, finding each other would cause an amazing surge of power, like putting a huge log on an already roaring fire. "

"Power, yesss, power that would sstrengthen their bond. A bond between light and dark never yet sseen in magic that could become the 'key'." Salazar added.

Emeline looked at Castor and said menacingly, "And you think I'm one of these… these soul thingies? How could I, my dad never hated anyone that much! I know he wasn't the best person in school, but he couldn't be a 'son of darkness'…" She trailed off, her face red and flustered. "What 'key'? What does the 'key' do, anyway?"

"I've already told you that Emeline. The ultimate power."

"Is that what that woman wants, then? This… power? Fine, she can have it for all I care!"

"Don't say that! No! I won't let you… hasn't your dad told you anything!"

"Hardly."

"Do you know who Harry Potter is? Voldemort? Do you know their story?"

"Not another story…" Emeline drawled in a bored voice.

Castor let out a frustrated groan and grabbed Emeline's shoulders, forcing her to look him in the eyes. He recounted parts of his mother's diary that he had found years ago packed away in a closet smelling of mothballs and worn cedar. He told her about 'The Boy Who Lived' and a meeting in Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions with a pale boy whose face was pointed, and had steely grey eyes. Castor told her about a man named Lucius planting a fifty-year-old diary in his aunt's secondhand caldron that almost killed her. He told Emeline about the Headmistress now, his mother, punching out Draco because he had tried to kill a harmless hippogriff. He told her about a bouncing, platinum ferret. He told her about a rampage through the tunnels of the Department of Mysteries where a woman named Bellatrix (Emeline's great aunt) killed his uncle's godfather, led by Lucius' cold voice. And how with his father in prison, Draco Malfoy had worked all of his sixth year to bring the inner circle of the most terrible wizard the world had ever seen into his school, killing the Headmaster at the time and forcing Castor's uncle into the harsh world without his greatest advisor. Castor was soon interrupted, though.

Emeline was crying now. "No! He isn't like that! My dad is a good person, and he loves me and my mom! He would never join forces with anyone as terrible as that Vomecort person! I know him!"

Castor pulled Emeline into a tight hug while she cried into his shoulder, her whole body shaking and sputtering with each choking sob. She knew it was true, all of it. She had felt a certain sincerity in Castor's voice that forced her to believe him. "Andy. His dad is…"

"Harry Potter, yes."

They heard a sniffle from one of the portraits as Helga batted her eyes with a yellow embroidered handkerchief.

"So it's true then. That's why I can hear him, like another thought in my head. I can almost feel his heartbeat. Is that the ultimate power?"

"No" said a subdued Godric. "Just the key to it. I'm afraid nobody knows what the power is."

"Oh. Why does Andromeda want it again?"

"She's your second cousin… Bellatrix's daughter. She wants to bring Voldemort back." Castor said, having worked out the family tree in the past few seconds.

Emeline turned to the portraits. "Can I ask one more question before we leave?"

"You already have dear, but you're welcome to another one." Rowena smiled at them. Her eyes twinkled a light blue, and they reminded Castor vaguely of somebody else's eyes…

"Who is in those portraits?" Emeline pointed to the left wall where four other frames hung opposite the founders. The occupants, two women and two men, were still dozing happily hanging over armchairs or resting on desks.

"We thought you'd never ask!" said Godric, suddenly vibrant again. "Especially seeing as you're dealing with the whole twin soul ordeal. You know, I remember when…"

"Ahem!" coughed Rowena, obviously trying to keep Godric on task.

"Oh, yes. They are our soul mates. We used the magic from our love to build this school, that's why it' so strong, so beautiful. They're across from us so we can see them when we wake up. Isn't she beautiful?" Godric sighed as he stared lovingly at the painting across from him. The woman in it was out cold on a chaise lounge, and Castor swore later that he could see drool at the corner of her mouth.

Rowena looked sad as she looked across the red and gold corridor at her soul mate. He was muttering nonsense in-between soft snores, words like 'nitwit', 'blubber', 'oddment' and 'tweak'.

"Thank you." Emeline said.

"I believe you know the way out, dearies?" Helga said, stifling a yawn.

"Yes." Castor said. "We'll never forget this." He led Emeline to the gold handle, and it opened this time. He turned back to say one last thank you, but all of the founders were fast asleep. He closed the door quietly after Emeline went through, and the room started to spin uncontrollably.

A/N: I know this chappie is muy confusing, but review and let me know if it's worth continuing, por favor!