A/N: Anything you recognize (characters/setting/etc.) belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything else is mine.

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Chapter Four

When Althea woke up in the morning she kept her eyes closed for sixty-two seconds, praying that the events of the day before had been a nightmare and that she was in her tent. Unfortunately, when she opened them the ceiling above was a dull gray and she was in the same broom closet that she'd gone to sleep in the night before. Pulling out her wand, she checked the wards and found that they'd been briefly disturbed the night before—not enough to wake her up—and that whoever had touched them had left shortly after. If Slytherin's suspicion was anything to go off of then it had to be Gryffindor.

She stretched, used magic to freshen up, checked the Time-Turner and supplies, and then improved her dress. If she was going to be stuck with the founders in Hogwarts then she was going to do better than looking like a sack of potatoes. She knew that colors meant more than just pretty accents to these people and that wearing blue, yellow, red, or green would indicate favoritism in some way. So she stuck to purple and added gold and black accents. Then she plaited her hair and transfigured a small bauble before pinning it to her dress. Satisfied, with no mirror to tell if it looked okay or not, she undid each and every ward before purposely tripping Gryffindor's as she left.

It took only a minute of slowly making her way to the Great Hall before the brutish figure made an entrance from one of the staircases, hand on his sword as always. There were rubies on his fingers and a heavy pendant hanging from his neck. He smiled, shook his hair as if it were a mane, and held out his hand. Using all of her training, Althea smiled and took it. He once again kissed her palm, eyes reaching up to meet hers, and said, "Good morning, my Lady. How was your rest?"

"I'm afraid that I hardly slept."

"Oh?"

"I'm not used to such close quarters, Master Gryffindor," she said.

"Please call me Godric."

"That's much too familiar!" She swatted at his arm even as she wanted to punch him in the face. He thought she was weak? Well, she'd use that to her advantage. "I could never call someone as powerful and renowned as you by your given name."

"I insist. After all, you have given me no family name to call you by. Shall I simply know you as Althea?"

"I have no family to speak of."

"Neither do I. My family was slaughtered by muggles when I was but a student."

That was new information. Historians knew that Godric Gryffindor had been the heir of his family, but she'd never heard anything about them being killed by muggles. "Why?"

"Because they are muggles? They do not understand our gifts and call them aberrations, kill us where we sleep, destroy our families in the name of their religion," Gryffindor said as his face flushed a deep shade of red that matched his House. "A student took what we taught her and tried to heal a village. In return they stoned her."

"Do you hate them?"

"Muggles? They have their uses, but they should be taught our ways, engaged in our society in some manner. They are sheep and I feel that we should act as shepherds."

He held onto her arm as they walked, his grip almost bruising. She took small, deep breaths to keep calm. It seemed at odds with what she'd heard of Gryffindor. He was wearing a hat today and she had to remind herself that it would later be on her head for a brief moment centuries into the future. For now it was just a hat, but it would become something more in due time. He looked down at her and she got the sense that he used his size to intimate people on a daily basis. Slytherin didn't have to, but she wasn't sure what it was about him that gave her unease.

"I see," she said.

"Do you?" he asked, fixing her with his dark stare. "Do you see the future I do?"

Althea paused and was about to create an elaborate lie when someone cleared their throat from a nearby corridor. She looked up and almost choked on nothing when Rowena Ravenclaw cocked her head to the side. The woman smiled and dipped her head in a mock bow, the sapphire diadem on her head shining in the sun, before stepping toward them.

"Dear Godric, who is this mysterious figure you've been dragging up and down the halls? I don't believe we've met."

Althea curtseyed and kept her eyes lowered from that birdlike stare as she spoke. "My name is Althea, madam. I am a guest if it pleases you."

"And where do you hail from? And what purpose do you have here at Hogwarts?"

"The south, madam. And I am here to aid in the protection of your school."

"Such curiosity, Rowena!" Gryffindor said. "I think the poor girl has had enough of them." He traced a hand down the side of her face and she resisted the urge to flinch.

"Curiosity does me well; I learn much from it," she said. Her blue gown was simpler than Althea's, but it looked like one of the fanciest dresses when she wore it. "Who else has met this charming stranger?"

"Salazar brought her to us. Apparently he found her outside the grounds."

"How did you know where to find us?"

There was the founder that Althea had studied and tried to emulate for years. The other two hadn't even thought to wonder how she'd been able to find the grounds of a brand new, secret school. Althea put on her most believable smile and shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "I followed the rumors and the roads, madam, and they led me here."

Rowena nodded as if this pleased her and gestured to the Great Hall. "Will you be joining us for breakfast?"

"Oh, I wouldn't wish to disturb the students—a new face and all that. I'll just grab something from the kitchens and walk about the grounds."

"If you so wish," Rowena said. "Now it wouldn't do for you to steal Godric away as well. Breakfast is such an important affair…"

Gryffindor looked like he wanted to throttle Rowena, but held back and smiled. She could still feel his hand tense around her arm before it let go. "I'm afraid the lady is right and I must be going. Hopefully I can see you later for some wine and cheese?"

"Perhaps," she said.

He smiled as if he found her playing coy amusing and kissed her hand again. She'd never wanted to chop off a limb until now, but if there was a time to start… Rowena made her exit with Gryffindor and Althea could finally breathe again. She'd been honest about going to the kitchens and eating outside so she made her way down to the other side of the basement. Several house elves practically threw themselves at her in an effort to fill her with every type of food they had available, but she took an apple and small chunk of bread before leaving.

Rule #4 of the Timekeeper's Code: Do not use any spells to change the past.

No one tried to stop her as she walked out the main doors and down the road. She flexed out her magic, sensing the shield and wards that protected the school. Each bite of the apple dripped a little juice onto her chin, but she ignored it. It seemed that in the hustle and bustle of running a school they hadn't kept up the maintenance on the wards to the same levels they would be in the modern day. She pulled out her wine and concentrated on connecting with the wood and core individually and then as a whole before reaching out to the shields.

First she focused on the pine, brushing her fingers over the smooth wood, and taking a deep breath. She could feel its eagerness to do magic, especially considering how little she'd been using it on the assignment, and knew that it would guide her spells with sureness. Then she reached for the unicorn hair in its depths, finding it more difficult to manage at the moment. When she'd bought the wand at Ollivander's on her eleventh birthday, she'd been told that her core came from a black unicorn and that perhaps it meant something more. Black unicorns were exceedingly rare, extremely temperamental, and difficult to work with. She wasn't sure what her core said about her.

When she was certain that she had connected with its power, she reached out to the wards and started gently probing them. It was easy to tell who had woven what parts of the protection. Rowena's work was precise brush strokes, Helga's strong bands of gold, Gryffindor's bold slashes across the sky, and Slytherin's subtle stitches to connect them all. She found a few holes in the pattern—mostly Gryffindor's fault—and started to work on fixing them.

Once that was finished she walked further down the road and noticed that the gates did not have any anti-muggle charms on them. She left the grounds, faced the iron borders, and raised her wand. The time Althea had spent with the Invisibility Task Force came in handy from time to time. She focused on creating illusions of decay, unsafe moors and bogs, and the desire to return home, to leave. If any muggle came near the ground they'd find themselves turned around without too much struggle. That way the battles that Gryffindor wanted wouldn't happen. That simple.

Crunching footsteps neared and she knew that they were for her benefit. He could be quiet if he wanted to. She didn't duck her head or shrink when Slytherin stepped out of the bushes and looked at her work.

"Have you had much practice with wards of this nature?"

She couldn't say that she'd worked on Hogwarts' wards once before. "Not quite. I find your work beautiful though."

"Just mine?"

"I meant the collection."

"Of course." He smirked. "And what magic have you done to our gates?"

"It's designed to deter muggles without harming them."

"Some would want to do them harm."

"Do you mean Master Gryffindor?" She put her wand away and picked up a nearby flower, playing with it in her hands as Slytherin watched. A breeze played through her hair, undoing the tidy braid she'd created, and ruining the overall look she was going for.

"Not at all."

"May I be forward?"

"That depends on what you ask."

"Do you despise muggles as much as Master Gryffindor seems to?" She was playing with fire by asking that direct question, but her notes were begging to be completed. If she could go back to the future with a quotation from Slytherin himself that he did not hate muggles or muggleborns then it would change everything. It might be the kind of discovery that could go beyond the Department and into the real world. She could become more famous than Bathilda Bagshot.

"What makes you think that I do?"

"I've heard rumors."

"Well," he said as he reached out an arm for her to take, "they're wrong. I have nothing against muggles. They commit horrendous crimes against us, but we do the same to them in return. It is an endless cycle of violence that I hope will one day end."

It would end in 1689 with the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. She couldn't say that though so all she said was, "Me too."

#

She was left to her own devices for a few hours and worked on the wards a little more. The future Hogwarts wasn't much different from the one that stood before her, but she could tell that some professors and heads had added their own architectural flairs as time went on. As she was rounding the corner of the castle nearest the Forbidden Forest (which was somehow even more intimidating in this era), a figure stepped out of the trees and immediately drew their sword.

Despite watching Helga Hufflepuff for two months and being near her for longer than that it was still incredibly scary to be staring down the blade. Her golden eyes were narrowed into slits, but the blade didn't waver and neither did the black wand in her other hand. "Give me one good reason not to kill you where you stand, intruder."

"I'm a friend of Slytherin's!" It was probably a good thing she'd said his name and not Gryffindor's considering the history between the two, but it had also been the first name to pop into her head.

"That will be determined."

The sorceress lifted up her wand to shoot red sparks in the air. A second later there was a loud crack and the other three founders were standing in front of her with their wands pointed. A mere moment later Slytherin and Gryffindor had theirs lowered, but Rowena kept hers raised. Helga looked at her companions, noticed their lack of fear, and tilted her head in Althea's direction.

"Do you vouch for the girl?"

"Aye," Gryffindor said. "She's here to work on our defenses against the muggles."

"And no one thought to tell me this?" Helga put her wand in its holster, sheathed her sword, and crossed her arms over her chest. "I almost took her head off."

"Good thing you didn't," Slytherin said. "She's been of much help to us so far."

"Has she?" Rowena said as she looked up to the skies. "Nice work."

Getting a compliment from Ravenclaw was better than all of her Christmas mornings combined. Althea dipped her head. "Thank you."

"Well, I suppose we can't chit chat for long. The students are waiting." Helga started striding toward the castle, everyone falling into step behind her. "Are you coming?"

Althea nodded and rejoined the group, struggling not to be hyperaware of Gryffindor positioning himself closer to her, and walked up the steps of Hogwarts two at a time. There were a handful of students in the halls and they all turned to watch the group enter. She was sure that an extra witch must look bizarre to them, but no one said anything. They walked up the steps to the Great Hall and she wondered how many time laws she was breaking by possibly interfering in other people's timelines beyond the founders. The Baron and Lady were still figures in the modern timeline—did that mean they recognized her as a student in some way? It was hard to figure.

The four founders took their seats and Helga transfigured another for Althea. She sat down in between Gryffindor and Slytherin, feeling incredibly overwhelmed by the idea that she was about to eat a meal with the some of the greatest witches and wizards the world had ever known. Rowena raised her glass and spoke to the students.

"You may be wondering who our new guest is," she said. "May I present the Lady Althea, who will be staying with us for a little while to help protect the castle. Please treat her with the utmost respect and show her what magic Hogwarts holds!"

There was a round of polite applause before the meal appeared. Althea hadn't eaten ancient Hogwarts food in any of her research—even knowing that the house elves would gladly give it to her—and she took in the spread with a historian's eye. The food on the students' tables wasn't much different than this, although the children's wine looked watered down, and she carefully selected a cut of boar, slice of bread, and some grapes to nibble on.

Her nerves made her too nervous to eat much, especially since she could tell that everyone at the Masters' Podium was paying some kind of attention to her, but she managed to not knock anything over or embarrass herself too badly. Gryffindor kept filling up her goblet to the rim, probably in an attempt to get her drunk enough to make a terrible decision, but she vanished some of it with every sip. At one point, mid-magic, she looked over and saw Slytherin smirking in her direction.

"Your work is quite strong," Gryffindor said. "Admirable for someone of your size really."

"You are too kind," she said as her bread broke with slightly more force than necessary.

"She looks plenty strong to me," Helga said. "Do you fight?"

"Not unless it's required. I have dueled before though." In training, without intent to kill, under supervision, with a second, and basically not at all.

"You duel?" Gryffindor said. "How wonderful! Would you be interested—"

"I'm sure she has more important things to do then entertain you," Slytherin said.

"Ah, but working all the time isn't good for a person's health," Gryffindor said. She felt his hand touch her leg under the table and jumped. It caused her class to fall over, spill wine over the tablecloth, and drip onto the floor. It was also loud enough that several students started paying attention to their teachers instead of each other.

"I'm so sorry," she said, quickly vanishing the mess with a wave of her hand. "I don't know what happened."

In the time that it took for her to meet Rowena Ravenclaw's gaze she realized that she had made a key mistake. Wizards in this day and age who could do nonverbal magic were uncommon, and wizards who could do wandless magic were rare. Witches who could do nonverbal, wandless magic were like black unicorns.

"Remarkable," Gryffindor said.

"Where did you say you came from?" Helga said.

"How interesting." Rowena sipped from her goblet.

"Are you okay?" Slytherin said.

She stood there like an idiot for a full minute before shrugging and offering the largest, brightest smile possible. "Oh, just a bit of accidental magic is all! My teacher used to beat me for causing messes and I just picked it up after that."

It seemed that Helga and Gryffindor bought the lie, but she could tell Rowena and Slytherin were more skeptical. Althea took a large drink of wine, popped a grape into her mouth, and quickly changed the subject by asking Gryffindor for a retelling of his proudest moment. Then she tuned him out, focused on the issues at hand, and tried to come up with a solution.

There were thirteen days left before she returned to modern time. She didn't know how long she could keep up this lie, and it was risky to keep adding onto it. Since leaving the castle wasn't possible thanks to Gryffindor's interest, she had to stay. That didn't mean she couldn't avoid being near the man whenever possible. He hadn't seemed so…intense when she'd observed him during the winter. He'd hunted creatures in the Forbidden Forest, dueled countless opponents, and once driven out some barbarians from a nearby muggle village.

She would have to play along, continue to work on the wards, and stay in her room at all other times. It wouldn't be a pleasant way to pass the time, and she couldn't continue her work observing Slytherin when he seemed so tuned to her presence now, but there was no other choice. She'd have to let Croaker know that the assignment had been compromised, use what research she already had to compose her findings, and then give up on finding out the truth beyond speculation. It created a hard lump in her stomach.

The students filed out of the Great Hall after the meal followed by the founders. Rowena went up toward the left corridor and Helga back out to the grounds. That left Althea standing uncomfortably between Gryffindor and Slytherin, waiting for one or both of them to leave. They didn't.

"Well… I guess I'll turn in for the night," she said.

Gryffindor smiled. "Are you so sure you wouldn't like a nightcap? The office is much warmer than those damp dungeons."

She nodded. "I'm sure that I'll be fine. I guess working on the wards took more out of me than I thought."

"Of course, of course. Doing such high level magic can be tiring for those not used to it."

If Gryffindor had any the idea of what kind of magic she could do he wouldn't say that. Still, she smiled and curtseyed like a good witch of lower station and walked toward the dungeons. A few seconds later, footsteps echoed behind her and she stopped. Salazar Slytherin did as well.

"Are you following me?"

"Not particularly."

"Then why are you going this way instead of up?"

"My rooms are down here, as are my students." He gave her a confused look and she realized that she shouldn't know why he would even go upstairs. She wasn't supposed to know about the Chamber. No one did.

"Of course. I thought you'd be joining Master Gryffindor."

"No need to be so formal; we're alone."

"Do you not like him?"

"It's complicated," he said as they started walking again. His robes swished gently against the stones and she noticed that his boots had mud on them. She recognized it from the Chamber and wondered when he'd had time to visit since she'd arrived.

"He's your friend."

"Yes."

"But you don't like him?"

"I said it's complicated."

"And you're not going to tell me?"

Slytherin stopped and gripped her wrist in the same movement. He turned her around and stared in her eyes. She felt a sharp probe tap at her mind and immediately threw up all of her defenses. Occlumency was a last-minute defense against intrusion, but she hadn't been prepared to go up against a founder. It was tempting to let down her guard when the needlepoint dulled to a gentle brush against her mind. It was like stroking a book's spine and the desire to just let him in was overwhelming. A nail bit into the skin of her palm and she reinforced the barriers. Within seconds, he was out and she was kneeling on the cold ground.

He looked down his sharp nose at her and she held back the urge to curse. Instead she stood up, smoothed her dress, and strode toward her room without saying another word. Her assumptions about Salazar Slytherin might have been wrong. It seemed that if he could invade another person's mind without warrant or warning then he could just as possibly be the man who created a legacy of hatred. He could be the man everyone thought he was.

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