1. Thanks a lot to TheMugglebornPrincess and RosaSilvermist who helped with the first version of this chap some years ago.

2. I decided to publish this without getting it beta in its most recent version. English is not my native language, so you might see grammar issues once in a while. Let me know if you see something off and I'll gladly fix.

3. To my readers who follow other stories of mine... I'll work next in a chap for the Ron Weasley time travel story, then I'll go and get chap7 of the Hafblood Weasleys done.

AT A DIFFERENT TIME.

The halls and corridors of the old school were deserted when Harry Potter came walking through one of them. It was a weekday morning, so the classrooms were packed with students trying to make the best out of their subjects. The hustle of the schoolwork was hard to ignore. Questions were being asked and muttering could be heard behind many of those walls. Teachers were lecturing about diverse topics and even a few distant laughs echoed here and there.

The corner of Harry's mouth turned upwards, forming the shade of a smile. Many dreadful things had happened to him back then, but at least this part he remembered fondly.

He walked slowly, taking in every detail he could spot in his surroundings. Some parts of the castle had been rebuilt a few years back, even when the same style and feel were preserved, it was sometimes distinguishable which bricks were centuries old and which ones were brand new.

Harry tried not to dwell on that day though.

It was remarkable really; how he was able to remember the differences so well. In his school years, his glimpses at the decorations of the castle were often hurried and unattentive, and yet somehow, more than a few subtleties had stuck to his memories. It came back with every one of his visits. Harry knew, for instance, that the plaque by the Great Hall's doors was new — not that he had ever dared to approach it, much less read it. At the Grand Staircase, the portrait of Merwyn the Malicious still glanced derisively to anyone passing, however, some of the other portraits that had been nearby in Harry's younger years had been destroyed and their spots on the walls were now notoriously empty. More than once, Harry had even spared a look at the Gunhilda de Gorsemoor's statue on the third floor, and he could almost swear that her right arm had been placed differently after the repairs.

Whatever the case, Harry wasn't visiting to make an inventory of changes. Besides, it was a short walk from the Defence Against Dark Arts classroom to the Headmistress office, and there were only so many memories that one could revisit in such a limited period of time.

This was the third year in a row in which Harry was invited by the Defence Against Dark Arts professor to give a practical demonstration to the third year students. Sturgis Podmore was an old partner, so Harry did it happily. Besides, he loved the expressions of awe on the kids' faces when the silvery stag that was his patronus went prancing down the long rows of desks.

"Ursula Gamp," Harry said to the stone gargoyle, and it leapt aside, uncovering a circular stairway behind it. The headmistress often had transfiguration topics as her passwords, and the author of the Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration was a proper one.

Inside, Harry found Minerva McGonagall, scribbling down meticulously over a piece of parchment.

"Finished already?" the old witch asked, barely looking up from her desk. She usually had a stern look in her green eyes that was hard to ignore, especially when one could remember being the subject of it as a young child. Nevertheless, there was no hard stare coming from her now, and the hint of a smile even was visible when Harry spoke.

"The lesson was a breeze. I may be getting used to this,"

"Are you asking about open positions?" the witch asked, raising an eyebrow. She finally set her work aside and adjusted her squared glasses as she studied Harry.

"Oh, none of that. Not presently. Perhaps I'll ask about it some day in the future, but there's still plenty of good to do in the Auror Office."

The headmistress nodded, though if she was disappointed, Harry couldn't tell. "In that case, I'll withhold my opinion on the matter until such a day comes. In the meantime, I'm confident we can accommodate these lessons of yours whenever you like, Harry," she said fondly, before gesturing to the chair in front of her, which Harry took.

The headmistress' office was a splendid room, Harry always came by in each one of his visits. It wasn't that different to when he first saw the place, many years ago. The circular room was still stuffed with books and it was surrounded by the portraits of the old headmasters and headmistresses. It didn't have as many silvery things around as then however, or a pensieve. Also, there was also a large barn owl in a perch not far away from where Harry first set his eyes on a phoenix.

"Not sure how I should take that, professor. I'm far from the only person who can produce a corporeal patronus. Honestly, Sturgis could do it himself. I get the feeling he only asks me to do it so he can skive from teaching for an hour or so."

"Well, not quite. Your patronus is more defined and larger in size — something that doesn't hurt in holding the class' attention. I'll admit that it's a needless incentive, as seeing Harry Potter in the flesh is more than enough reason to keep students' on their chairs throughout the lesson," the witch explained, though she didn't insist on that later part. She knew Harry wasn't the biggest fan of his notorious status, not that he could do anything about it. "That being said, I do agree that Sturgis enjoys the extra time a little too much."

Harry grinned. "I do like to visit. Work at the office is rewarding, but sometimes it can be dead absorbing as well. It's nice to spare time once in a while to catch up on Hogwarts' matters, or have lunch with Hagrid. I'll never forget this place."

"No one ever does," Minerva McGonagall assured him.

It was the truth. Aside from all the difficulties and the darkness that defined some parts of his school years, Harry always pictured Hogwarts as a refugee. That was why the times when it was taken over or manipulated by outside forces were among the most hopeless of his struggle.

"So, how are things going over here? Any new problems?" he asked. Not interested in going back to bleak memories.

The headmistress leaned on her chair. "We did have an issue with a flaming frisbee last week, but nothing major, thankfully. I swear that creativity has never been lacking, to my dismay."

An honest chuckle came out of Harry. "Good to hear that the spirit of the old pranksters has endured."

Harry remembered his parents and the Marauders, then the twins. The memory of Remus' and Fred's fates had been turning less painful with the pass of time, yet it still lingered. It would surely never disappear in its entirety, which was probably as it should be.

The headmistress cleared her throat, "I'm afraid that not everything is as simple to handle as frisbees carrying messages of flaming death. As you know, there are many grievances and prejudices that remained from before the war and aren't easy to forget. In addition to new ones that can turn out to be just as harmful. I'm ashamed to admit that unnecessary quarrels still taken place occasionally, and the staff has needed to remind people that students here aren't their parents more times than I would have liked to," she said, forcing herself not to frown at some unpleasant memory before sighing at turning back to Harry, "Anyways, it happens less often now that at the beginning. I want to believe we're getting closer to what this school is supposed to be with each passing year."

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

It was a problem of which Harry was of course aware. Many students were siblings and children from people killed in the war, which was the fuel for a complicated sort of squabbles. It wasn't easy to tell some students to keep peace with Goyles and Averys, though Harry didn't want to think they had worked so hard just to produce bullies with different house colors.

A part of Harry wished he could just put it all away. Live a peaceful life with his friends in a far away place, without having to hear about fighting ever again. By Merlin, had he earned it. They all had. However, he couldn't turn a blind eye, it wasn't in his nature. He didn't like the fame, but had come to accept the role he had in the Magical Society as a beacon of hope. If he could accomplish something by being someone that people could look up to and by giving an uncomfortable speech once in a while, then he couldn't just say no. He owed it to Teddy and so many others who had experienced similar fates in the war.

He was never the person who could revolutionize things just with his revolutionary ideas — that's Hermione's role. Even so, he could recognize the right path and live by it.

For a moment, Harry thought about sharing some of his thoughts with Professor McGonagall, but decided against it. He was not the best to put that kind of thing in words, and besides, he couldn't tell her anything the old witch didn't know already.

They kept talking about other things. Trivial things. Like the centaurs or Hagrid's new batch of blast-ended skrewts. Eventually though, McGonagall touched the topic Harry wanted to talk about.

"How's Ginny?"

"Splendid. And I'm glad you brought her up."

Harry smiled, putting his hand inside his coat. When he took it out, he was holding a white envelope with red and gold garnished edges. Sparkling letters stood out from the centre of the paper. He handed it over to his former professor.

The headmistress raised both eyebrows. "Is this what I think it is?"

"One month from now, Ginny and I expect you there. It's a Saturday so I don't think that..."

"I wouldn't miss it for anything." The old witch cut in, a sparkle in her eyes and a wide smile on her face.

A few cheers were heard among the portraits in the room, including one from Phineas Nigellus Black.

"My most sincere congratulations, Harry. You deserve it!" said Albus Dumbledore from his place on the wall.

"Thank you, professor!"

Harry glanced at Severus Snape's portrait. It had been added as a way to honour him, even if he was dismissed before his death. His former potions professor wasn't cheering as the rest of the headmasters and headmistresses on the walls were, but at least he wasn't sneering or making a disgusted expression, which had to be an improvement.

Professor McGonagall's eyes had watered, but only slightly. She stood up from her desk and went to give Harry a hug, which was as unconventional as it was welcomed.

"I'm very happy for you, for the two of you."

"Not as much as I am!"

"Surely not, and I guess Molly must be quite joyful as well."

Harry laughed, "You have no idea! When we told her, I thought she was never going to stop putting food on my plate!"

Minerva McGonagall smiled, shaking her head slightly, "I can imagine, trust me." She started walking back towards her desk, "Well, thank you for the invitation, don't doubt that I'll be there. I don't want to hold you up though, maybe they're waiting for you already. My fireplace is yours, as always."

"Actually... I told them I was returning after lunch. I was thinking about giving Hagrid a visit and the invitation as well, maybe grabbing a bite and some drinks from the Three Broomsticks. You're free to join us if you have the time."

The headmistress turned to a big clock at her left, "Now you mention it, I didn't have a decent breakfast this morning. I'll gladly join."

They stood up to get on their way to Hagrid's hut. It wasn't until they had reached the door that the barn owl released its first hoot.

The walk by his old Transfiguration professor was a pleasant one for Harry. She kept putting him up to date with what was going on at Hogwarts, most notably Professor Trelawney's antics and which students were the most recent target of her portents of doom.

As he listened to the sound of loud students coming from the courtyard, Harry couldn't help but think of Teddy Lupin. As unbelievable as it sounded, his little godson would be ready to attend Hogwarts in about seven years. and Harry would love to be there with him — living the experience again from the other side of the scarlet train. Maybe a few years later he would take more kids to King's Cross. Harry was still young, but he couldn't stop from imagining how his future kids with Ginny would look.

A couple of times, Harry and McGonagall crossed students as they talked lively through the castle. Some of them rushed through the corridors, and only stopped after a look at them. A few would straighten up and almost choke at the sudden sight of the headmistress, while others would gawk at Harry in awe. The rest were too far gone in mischief to even notice who was walking by.

Harry did his part whenever a student dared to address him. He was friendly. He smiled and cheered them up, encouraging them to keep studying. Not revealing the fact that he had failed to turn in a good number of assignments during his years at Hogwarts.

Truth to be told, It wasn't easy to be Harry Potter, not even in time of peace. So many people looked up to him, putting a substantial pressure on him. Harry had never asked for all that attention of course, but he couldn't back away now. He was always going to be the Chosen One.

Once they finally reached the main doors, Harry's job at the Auror Office was the main topic of the conversation.

It was difficult for Harry to know if his meteoric rise in the department was due to his skills as an auror or because of who he was. Ron and Hermione argued that it was probably both. His friends always said that he had what was needed for the job, but that people would never stop seeing them for who they were. Some doors would always open more easily for them, and they couldn't change that. Harry didn't like to dwell on what people would say of his advantages, he had had enough of minding others' opinions for a lifetime. Harry just tried to stay focused and do his job to the best of his ability, mostly to prove to himself that he was worthy of it.

McGonagall reassured him that, name aside, she didn't know anyone who was a better fit to be the Head Auror's right hand. She never stopped having faith in him.

They walked out of the castle, following the route to Hagrid's. His hut wasn't that far away, but something caught their attention right at the castle's entrance. There was a light shining at them from behind.

Harry's training had taught him to always be prepared, so he turned swiftly, with a firm grasp on his wand. He didn't raise it of course. He was at a school full of students and it was more than likely that this was nothing but a prank.

It wasn't though.

"By Merlin!" Minerva McGonagall exclaimed as they approached the source of the light.

There was brick at the base of the wall — just next to the main doors — which seemed to be a brick as any other, aside from the fact that it was producing a blinding light.

Harry rubbed his eyes, to make sure that he wasn't barking and that the brick was actually shining as if there was no tomorrow. At his side, the headmistress was obviously seeing the same thing as him.

"A student's work?" he asked.

"It doesn't look like it, though my years have taught me never to underestimate a student's ingenuity."

They walked towards the brick and Harry cast a few detection spells on it. Nothing came out of that.

"I believe that's Hogwarts' first stone. It was placed by the four founders at the same time, it all started with that one brick." McGonagall said suddenly, surprising Harry.

"I never knew that."

"Well, students don't usually care about stones, but it holds symbolic value that's hard to match. It has a visible inscription if you want to verify my words. Back then, I was highly pleased when I found out that it wasn't damaged during the battle."

Harry knelt next to it as the light slowly faded. There was indeed an inscription, gilded engravings that didn't seem to have aged as hard as the stone itself. It was brief so it fitted perfectly well on the single brick.

FIRST STONE OF HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY.

FOR THE FUTURE GENERATIONS.

G GRYFFINDOR, H HUFFLEPUFF, R RAVENCLAW, S SLYTHERIN.

"Wow, they actually put this by themselves?" Harry said, leaning closer, almost afraid. It felt unreal to imagine the four founders once standing where he was now, putting this apparently insignificant rock in place. A rock that grew to mean so much for so many.

The headmistress nodded.

"But, why the light? Why now?"

"Careful, Harry," warned McGonagall, as he leaned even closer.

"Don't worry. I have cast all the spells I need. There's nothing considerably dangerous about this, or so I think."

"Even so..." The headmistress started.

Harry could only be sure that it was safe by calling someone from the Ministry, but he was capable of doing this. Besides, no-one at the department would call a curse breaker just to check on an old piece of stone, and he wouldn't either.

"Wait, there's something in there." McGonagall pointed out.

There was a piece of old paper pressed firmly between the brick and the one on top of it, maybe a page of an old book. Harry pulled it out and the light faded completely.

"It seems to have been here for a long time," he said, extending the paper. It was a part of an old scroll.

"It can't be. It's surely something that was placed by a student."

"It's the truth. This paper is almost ancient, so much that I'm afraid to break it. It even has pieces of stone attached firmly to it. I'm sure it wasn't put here recently."

"That's impossible, people have been looking at this stone for generations and no one ever saw it. I have analysed it before a great number of times, there was never anything unusual about that brick," The old witch looked flabbergasted.

Carefully, Harry unraveled the yellowish piece of paper. What he found was quite simple and, at the same time, quite difficult to understand. A circle was drawn in the very centre, there was nothing outside of it and its borders were made of small runes. It was separated into four quadrants by runes as well, and in the middle there was the only symbol that Harry could understand. He wasn't very good at ancient runes actually, and the few he knew about were taught to him by Hermione after finishing Hogwarts. He only knew the easiest of them all.

"Four... or perhaps The Fourth…?" Harry said, talking about the rune in the centre. "Do you understand any of this?"

The headmistress shook her head, "No, I haven't seen anything like it before. The one in the middle is clearly referring to the number four, that much is obvious; a few others have parts that are similar to some runes I know, but nothing that makes sense at the moment. I think I'm clueless."

Harry released a disappointed sigh, "Maybe should show this to Hermione, or to someone else at the Ministry."

Right then, the black haired man adjusted his round shaped glasses and looked more closely. When he touched the middle rune, everything around him vanished into a blinding light. There was him, the scroll, and light. Nothing more.

Hogwarts wasn't visible, neither were its grounds or the headmistress. It was a whirlpool of images that Harry couldn't understand. All he could do was grab firmly the piece of paper with one hand, and his wand with the other.

Suddenly the light and the whizzing sound that came with it came to an end. It felt like it was only a moment, but also a very long time too. He took a deep breath and...

"Harry Potter," a familiar voice echoed.

Next Chapter: The Returning Champion