A/N: Here's your weekly taste of the past.

Anything you recognize (characters, setting, etc.) belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything else is mine.

Please read, enjoy, and review.

Chapter Six

Althea spent most of her night pacing the floor, worry about training with Helga and her 'date' with Gryffindor and her conversation with Slytherin, and she had about thirty minutes of rest before the sun rose. She made up for it with a quick dose of Pepper-Up Potion and changed the appearance of her suit. Helga probably wouldn't mind a woman in trousers—she seemed progressive for her time—so Althea smoothed them out as well as the purple tunic. At this point she might as well get her own House.

Double-checking the Time-Turner and her wand, she plaited her hair and walked out. The entire castle seemed to be asleep and the only sound was the gentle creaking of the few suits of armor along the hall. She pushed open one of the large doors and stepped out into the already-warm air. A short jog to the edge of the forest later and she was face-to-face with Helga Hufflepuff, who was sitting on a stone and sharpening her blade.

"Good! You're on time; I like that," she said.

It seemed that they'd had the same idea, because Helga was also wearing trousers and had completely pulled her hair up and out of her face. It made her look fierce and fearless, and Althea wished that she could be the same. Maybe lessons with Helga wouldn't be that bad, maybe she'd learn valuable skills for the future, and maybe it would make her a better witch.

"I'm afraid that I don't have a weapon."

"It's fine," she said as she tossed a sword, "You can use my old one."

The 'old' one weighed more than it looked like and Althea could already feel unused muscles straining. Sure, she had field training just like everyone else at the Ministry, but that didn't mean she had the same physical requirements as an Auror. Harry Potter had biceps; Althea Thatcher did not.

"You're a bit weaker than I thought. What do you do in your free time? It seems as if you lift nothing more than books."

"That's fairly accurate."

"We'll fix that. Get a feel for the sword, it's an extension of your will, your body," she said, "but we won't be starting there."

"Where are we starting?"

"It does well to know how to fight, but retreat is another option that most forget. Your arms aren't that impressive, but how are your legs?" The witch's smile stretched across her face, and Althea got the distinct impression she wasn't going to like what followed.

#

She couldn't feel her body. There was a vague notion that she had limbs and that they were capable of movement, but that also seemed impossible. Luckily, it was a warm enough day so she could just lay on the grass and die quietly.

Helga was laughing in the distance and she could hear someone else approaching, but it was too exhausting to open her eyes. The footfalls were heavy—male—and she could also hear the quiet swish of soft fabric over the grass. That meant that it had to be Slytherin, and that he could definitely see her most embarrassing and weakest moment in full definition. If she wasn't so dead to the world she would care more about the sweat that soaked her body, the fact her face was as red as Gryffindor's banner, and that she was decidedly unattractive.

"I see your training is going well."

"What is your scale of 'well'?" she said.

"Not dead yet."

"Then yes, it's going well."

"The girl has some talent," Helga said, "but there is much work to be done before she'll become a warrior."

Althea opened her eyes and realized that Slytherin was much closer than she'd initially thought. He was looking down at her in wry amusement and she resisted the urge to flip him off with what little strength she had. He probably wouldn't know what it meant anyway.

"I'm not warrior material," she said.

"That's what they all say. Then destiny comes calling."

"I don't think he'll be seeing me anytime soon."

"She might," Helga said, smiling, "and sooner than you think."

Slytherin was still smiling that same frustratingly attractive smile and she resisted the urge to kick him and bring him down to her level. Instead she used her elbows to lift up a little bit, and fixed him with her fiercest glare. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't a gentleman just a take a walk?"

Helga laughed. "Can't say I see a gentleman."

"Fine then. I've been sent as an errand boy."

"For what?"

"Godric wishes me to remind Lady Althea that they have an outstanding hunting party to attend." Slytherin's face pinched at some thought before he schooled his face into an expression void of any emotion. "I am to see what is taking her so long and escort her back to the castle."

"I'm not in any condition for a hunt," Althea said. "Delicate disposition and all."

"Hush, child, you're fine. Go appease the beast." Helga took the sword from the ground near Althea and sheathed it. It looked like she'd hardly broken a sweat through the four kilometer run, the tree climbing in the Forbidden Forest, and the sword training. She'd done it all without even a milliliter of magic.

"Do I have to do this again tomorrow?" Rest sounded like the best thing in the world. Hunting with Gryffindor was definitely the worst.

"Practice until it's perfect."

Slytherin nodded and then offered his hand to help her up. She wanted to turn it down based on stubbornness and pride, but she was so goddamn tired that it didn't matter. When their hands touched there was that vague spark again, but it was gone as soon as she stood up and let go. He almost looked disappointed.

She curtseyed to Helga, calves aching in protest, and followed the serpent back to the castle. He didn't say anything for the first few moments, but broke the silence before she could. Althea hated quiet. "How did you find training?"

"To be honest? It was better than I thought it would be. I figured I'd have to fight a dragon or something."

"No, that's day three."

If someone had told Althea that Slytherin had a sense of humor she wouldn't have believed them. Seeing it in action didn't make it any more believable. She tried to hide her smile but couldn't.

"You have a lovely smile," he said. "You should do it more often."

"Maybe you should take your own advice."

He dipped his head, but moments later frowned. "I'm assuming the hunting trip was Godric's idea?"

"It was."

"And you're still going?"

"Well, there's not much of a choice is there? I can't simply say no to Godric Gryffindor."

"You can though," he said. "Godric isn't god."

She gave a small laugh that sounded pathetic and weak even to her. "I might as well amuse him while I'm here."

"When are you leaving?" he asked.

"I have nine more days."

"You make it sound so certain. Is it not your own decision to leave?"

"It's…complicated."

He raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"I can't say."

They walked through the doors and she froze as she felt his hand wrap around her wrist. "Who exactly are you?"

She smiled. "Just a witch who knows wards."

#

After casting a quick Cleansing Charm, transfiguring her suit once again, and deciding to leave her hair down for once Althea grabbed her wand and walked out to meet Gryffindor. He was waiting in the corridor, looking dashing and grand in scarlet robes, and he bowed. "My Lady, I heard your training went well."

"That's one way to put it."

"Sometimes Helga's methods are too unrefined for my taste—no class that woman—but she has her uses. I'm glad you find her to your liking though."

"Yes, I do."

"How can a girl from Romania never learn to hunt?"

"Oh, we keep our traditions close. I spent more time over a cauldron than on a horse." This was technically true because no one rode horses in the modern times.

"Pity," he said. "Perhaps I'll have to show you how to ride."

"I'm a quick learner; I'll figure it out."

He smiled and offered his arm, which she took, and then they walked out to the stables. There were all kinds of creatures in them, more than just horses, and she wasn't that surprised to see a thestral right next to a unicorn. Gryffindor pulled out a bay and selected a gray one for her. After getting a feel for the animal and making sure the saddle was on properly, she mounted with minimal help from Gryffindor.

They rode off into the afternoon sun, past the Forbidden Forest, and crested a hill near the lake. A herd of deer grazed contently in the distance and she watched as Gryffindor pulled out a bow and nocked an arrow. Part of her wanted to be horrified by what he was doing, but she'd watched him do it a bunch of times before and knew that he would always find his mark. Whether it was magic or actual skill she didn't know.

"Most of the food we eat comes from my kills, you know," he said. "I always share my bounty."

"How kind of you."

"It's the right thing to do."

He took a deep breath and loosed the arrow. It sang through the air before striking one of the hinds. It fell to the ground, the rest of the herd bolting, and Gryffindor killed two more as they ran. He smiled at her, wind blowing in his hair, and she could see what others saw in the man. Althea could admit he was charismatic and charming, brave and righteous, but something about him didn't sit right and she didn't know what it was.

"Shall we go?" he said.

She nodded and they rode down the hill. One of the bucks he'd scored wasn't fully dead, and he did the merciful thing and slit its throat. He shrank the corpses and put them in a small sack that had bloodstains on the bottom. Apparently it was his trophy bag as he held it up for her to smile and clap at. The man wanted to be adored and fawned over at every moment. It was damn exhausting.

The fact that she knew just what lines to say was a testament to her observational skills. Watching Gryffindor for two months had been a bore, because he was exactly what he seemed. Still…was there a chance that in the privacy of his rooms he was a different man? She'd never followed a founder into their private studies before Slytherin, mostly because she didn't have a clue where the others' were. Slytherin's was public domain, but was her assignment unfinished because she hadn't looked for the other three?

Well, the mission would be unfinished anyway thanks to Slytherin.

Gryffindor rode closer until his leg was just brushing against hers. His hand reached over and plucked something near her head before holding it out. "It seems beauty follows you wherever you go."

It was a few rose petals and she immediately suspected that he'd done it himself just for the line, but she smiled all the same and thanked him as he transfigured it into a whole flower. The fact that it was a bright, striking red didn't escape her notice. Then, getting too close yet again, he threaded the flower into her hair and smiled. He could be quite handsome and she should be attracted to him—he was her type—but something held her back.

He had striking green eyes like sea glass, subtle stubble on his face from a few days without a shave, and a scar above his eye. She'd never noticed it before and couldn't hold back her question. "May I ask where you got that scar?"

His eyes darkened for a moment, but then he flashed a blinding smile. "In one of my more challenging duels, I'm afraid. But I won the day after a well-timed Killing Curse."

The fact that Godric Gryffindor, champion of the bravest and 'best' house, had used the Killing Curse in a duel was kind of shocking, but this was a different time and place. The Unforgiveables were forgivable in the right situations. The laws and regulations around them had been played with and changed in the nineteen years following Voldemort's downfall, but she still couldn't imagine someone speaking so casually about killing someone in her time. Even Harry Potter, patron saint of chosen ones, seemed to regret the people he'd killed. She could see it in his eyes when they passed in the hall, when they were blasted over the front page of the Prophet with the headline "Potter Hunts for Dark Wizards."

"And you came away the hero," she said.

"I'm always the hero. Will you let me be yours?"

There were two things she knew about Gryffindor: 1) he loved the chase and 2) he looked for new prey as soon as the first was caught. If she let him catch her this early then where would she be in nine days? It would be better to continue being coy. She smiled, dug her heels into the horse, and took off. A few seconds later she heard him follow.

Rule #6 of the Timekeeper's Code: Do not touch anyone from the past.

She was using magic to stay on the horse, but she knew she was going to be sore tomorrow anyway. The pounding of hooves, the sunshine brushing over her face, and the wind rushing through her hair made her heart race, and it wasn't long before she crested the hill near the lake. It spread out like a great expanse, the castle in the distance, and she felt a moment of brief peace staring at it all. Hogwarts was a home to everyone within its walls, but it seemed that even after she'd been gone it still was. It had been five years since her graduation, but she kept finding excuses to come back. If the future wouldn't let her then the past would.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" Gryffindor said as he pulled his horse to a halt beside her and dismounted. "I find myself wondering how I had a hand in creating such a thing more often than not."

He offered her a hand and she begrudgingly allowed him to help her down. "It's one of the most beautiful things I've seen."

"I agree."

"You're not even looking at the lake."

"I know."

She could feel his eyes on her and felt drawn to meet them. They were hypnotic, charming, and the incoming sunset brought new color to them. His hand traced her jaw, his thumb barely touching her lips before it was replaced by his lips.

She wanted to hate it—hate him—but there was some part of her that hadn't been kissed in so long and was dying to be touched in this way. Dr. Laurie would say that the part of her that wanted attention and notice from the higher-ups was the same that didn't object to Gryffindor's lips. That and the fact that, like everything, he excelled at it.

If she closed her eyes and didn't think about the fact she was making out with Godric fucking Gryffindor then she could fully enjoy it. There was just enough pressure and passion, and she could tell that he was holding back. One of his hands rested on her hip, but didn't stray further and for a bizarre second she wished that it would.

Salazar Slytherin's face flashed in her mind and she immediately broke away from Gryffindor. He smiled and cupped her face. "My Lady is too kind."

"I am in debt for your kindness, Master Gryffindor."

"Didn't I tell you to call me by my given name?"

"And I said that I couldn't." She wouldn't.

"You are a strange witch, Lady Althea," he said, "but I find that an intriguing quality."

"Thank you."

"Shall we return? Dinner will be served shortly."

"Food sounds amazing," she said. Her stomach agreed with loud affirmation.

He laughed and helped her back up on the grey horse before remounting. "That it does."

They rode back to the castle as the sun finished setting, arriving at the door just as night fell, and they handed the horses over to a house elf. Another of the small creatures took Gryffindor's kills to the kitchen and she cast a quick Cleansing Charm to get rid of more sweat and dirt. In the hallway, Godric grabbed her hand and pulled her close before kissing her once more.

"My Lady, would you do me the honor of sitting beside me and drinking from my cup?"

She knew that the ritual held more meaning than it would in the future, but she wasn't sure if she was willing to commit that much to the charade. She dipped her head and looked up at him through her eyelashes. "I will only do one of those…for now."

His smile faded for a moment, but he bowed all the same. "You play games, Lady Althea, but are you sure you can afford to lose?"

"I won't."

#

After dinner—yet another challenge to go through—Althea made her way to the dungeons, free of Gryffindor for the first time in hours. He'd talked her ear off for the entire meal and ignored the glares that Slytherin had been sending their way. She'd seen every one and couldn't help but think about the fact that he'd popped into her head while she was kissing Gryffindor. That probably meant something, but she didn't want to dwell on it.

As she rounded the corner toward her room, she bumped into yet another person. Except this time it wasn't Salazar Slytherin; it was Waldo Pratt. He jumped back as if he'd been burned, dipped into a low bow, and stuttered out an apology.

"It's alright," she said. "No harm, no foul."

"Master Slytherin would have my neck for being impolite to a lady."

She took a moment to study the future Baron as he did the same in turn. It was hard to see how one day this scrawny, weak-looking teen would become the man who killed Helena Ravenclaw. It didn't seem like he had it in him, but she knew different. Something would set him on the path of the murderer, but it hadn't happened yet.

Before she'd been assigned to study the founders, she'd been given the relatively simple task of finding out the mystery of the Grey Lady and Bloody Baron. At first it had seemed straight forward, but—as with all things—nothing was ever set in stone. She'd watched, hidden under her Cloak, as Waldo Pratt followed Helena to Albania and confronted her about her mother's diadem. It was honor and duty that everyone believed sent him, but it had really been love.

"We could run away together," he'd said. "No one would ever have to know. No one could find us."

"Why would I run away with you?" Helena had replied. She looked so much like her mother, but was haughtier and held things over others' heads.

"We love each other."

"I don't love you."

A few seconds later and Waldo Pratt was lost in another one of his rages. It only ended when Helena's blank eyes stared up at the night sky and his cloak was covered in her blood. Althea could still hear his screams sometimes. It was a sound she'd never forget.

She'd seen some beautiful things as a Timekeeper: sunsets over the Thames with Newt Scamander, the pyramids of Egypt during an equinox with Miranda Goshawk, the ruins of Stonehenge with Bathilda Bagshot. She'd also witnessed horrible events such as the murder of Helena Ravenclaw. Sometimes she lost sleep and sometimes she didn't.

Waldo Pratt as a teen didn't look like the same man who had killed Ravenclaw's daughter, but that didn't change the fact he would become that person. He had a crooked smile and watery blue eyes, but he was still just a boy.

"May I ask your name?" she said.

"Waldo Pratt, if it pleases you madam." He bowed again. She had a feeling that he did that a lot.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Where were you heading?"

"The library. I have a Charms exam tomorrow and Master Gryffindor tends to favor his own house. It isn't fair, but Master Slytherin says we must do our best anyway." He bit his lip. "I shouldn't have said that."

"It's alright; I won't tell anyone."

"Promise?"

"I promise. Why do you care so much about Charms anyway? I've heard how well you do in Dark Arts."

His face flushed as he shuffled his feet. She wondered what was so difficult for him to say. He tried to speak a few times, starting then stopping, before finally finding his words.

"I want to help other people, and you can't really do that with curses and hexes. I'd like to teach." He said it as if it were his darkest secret.

She smiled and reached out to touch his arm, whether it was proper or not. "Then damn Gryffindor and do your best to become a professor. I think you'd make a great one."

"Well…you don't really know anything, do you?"

"I'm not saying that I do; I'm just saying you should at least try. It's good to have ambitions and dreams—they'll take you places, I promise."

Waldo looked up at her and gave a small smile. "You sound like Master Slytherin."

"I don't know whether that's a compliment or not."

He shrugged. How did a completely normal boy become the Baron? It couldn't be as simple as love. Maybe there were more answers in the past that she wasn't seeing.

"I don't say things I don't mean, madam," he said. "Master Slytherin taught me that."

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Pratt," she said. "You should study now so you can best all the odds."

"I will. Thank you, Lady Althea!" He ran down the corridor, leaving her to go just a bit further to her door. As she passed Slytherin's quarters there was a slight sound, as if someone had been standing near the door and stepped back. When she looked down there was movement as he stepped away from the light. Had he been listening? Why did she care?

"I don't," she said.

There were only nine days left to learn what she could about the founders. After that…it would all be over. She'd never come back.