I tumbled to the ground, and after a few moments spent sitting, warily nursing my head, I stood up to assess my state. It was night – that much was easy – but in the distance I saw what looked like fire dancing in the sky, and I thought I heard screams in the distance.

My eyes widened as I realized where I was… Dumbledore wasn't just going to tell us about the old times, he was going to show us. I was in the reign of the darkest wizard known to magical-kind… Riphrage. The wizard who invented the three unforgivable curses, and many more to go a long with that. 1691: A time when no one was safe from anyone, when you turned the corner, there was a seventy-five percent chance that you would meet you death. A time when if you looked at someone's calendar, seeing they had ten funerals booked was only surprising because that meant they still bothered to write them down.

All this went through my head in the couple seconds that passed after I fell to the ground. I racked my mind to see if I could remember what this had to do with me. What could I have that made Dumbledore send me back to this time? For some reason all I could think of was the scene between me and Potter the night before:

"So. You're an enchantress? But I thought…. Well I thought you were a muggle-born."

"What are you talking about Potter." I snapped. "Of course I am a muggle born. And I am not an enchantress. Just… Listen , don't mention this to anyone, alright. Not even Sirius. Or Remus, or Peter, or… ANYONE. OK?" I got up to storm away, but he grabbed my arm.

"Lily, I know what I am talking about. You are an enchantress. I don't know how that is possible, but it is."

I shook my head to rid myself of this thought. I couldn't be an "enchantress." First of all, I had no idea what that was, and second of all, as Potter so aptly put it, I was a muggle born. Obviously, according to what he said, muggle borns could not be "enchantresses."

I was about to call out for Dumbledore, when Potter put his hand over my mouth.

"Quiet. This is more than just a memory, this is reality. We truly are in this time and place. People have noticed me and spoken to me, so I think we can get hurt while we are here, and, well Evans-" his voice broke off hesitantly, and he glanced nervously at me before continuing, "I appeared over there." He pointed in the general direction of the fire. "And let me tell you, that's not a party that is going on. People are being tortured, murdered... And it doesn't seem to me that it's only muggle's and muggle borns, it's everyo-"

At this point, I grew tired of his lecture and interrupted, "Of course it's no party! Do you even have an idea of where and when we are?" I paused for a moment, and at his silence, I continued, "We are in the year 1691, the year before the beginning of the Salem Witch Trials." Potter, being the ignorant fool he was, gave me a blank look. "The Salem Witch Trials: A series of hangings, burnings and drownings of people accused of being witches. Accused by muggles, obviously. It started, according to muggles, due to a so called "possession" of some young girls in Salem, Massachusetts (that's in America, of course, Potter) assumed to have been due to witches. Of course, like most things in the muggle world, they assumed wrong. This time however, it was not their faults. It was the Ministry's. With a boat load of memory charms and some invented memories, they managed to have the muggles mark it all up to some innocent muggles (a horrid thing to do, however necessary it was) so that the deaths were all forgotten and the memory lapses were marks of possession of the devil, and they enchanted some young girls to act a tad bit foolish. The bodies… The bodies were all burned. Not a one remembered by anyone, their deaths had no dignity what so ever." I came to the end of my solemn speech, and Potter shook himself out of a daze, eyes wide.

"Wow…" He broke out of his stupor with a wide grin and a chukle. "Boy, do you sound bloody intelligent, Evans. Who knew?" He silenced himself after I gave him a glare. "Okay, okay… But one question: Who all? And what happened to the killer?"

"Riphrage. He is known to be the most powerful wizard of all time. His death… His death remains a mystery. No one has yet figured out who killed him. Nobody there was alive afterwards, of course." I replied knowingly.

"Except for us." James put in.

"Except for us…Except for us! Potter, do you know what this means? This means we are about to find out the answer to the largest mystery of all time! We are about to find out who killed Riphrage!"

"Great… Just one problem." He said haltingly.

"What, Potter?" I demanded.

"Why didn't someone else just go back in time to now and find out?"

"That easy, Potter. It's because you can't go back in ti- oh."

"Exactly. Why us? Why not someone else, Evans?" questioned Potter.

"Well…" I stammered, "Why do I have to know everything? Let's go!" And with that, I stormed off.

He smirked that annoying smirk of his and raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, Milady. What ever doth please you…"

…………………………...

Haha! Yay, a chapter! Well, in a bit, the next will be up… And who did kill Riphrage? Intrigue, intrigue…