A/N: Thanks for the amazing reviews and all the love. In return, here's some love for you all.
Anything you recognize (characters, setting, etc.) belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything else is mine.
Please read, enjoy, and review.
Chapter Seven
Althea Thatcher rolled out of bed at sunrise, dressed for another day of training, and made her way to the edge of the forest. The sun was already warming up the earth and she shrugged off her cloak as soon as she saw the badger witch. The woman smiled and clapped her hands. "I almost believed you would not come! Getting back up is the toughest part."
"I didn't know I had a choice."
"There's always a choice."
"What are we doing today?" She started stretching, noting how everything hurt, but that she already felt stronger.
"We'll warm up with a good run, practice swordplay for a good portion, and cool down with a swim in the lake."
"But…isn't the lake dangerous?"
"Only if you're unprepared." The witch smiled and pulled Althea up. "Shall we begin?"
"Might as well."
They started at a brisk jog and muscles Althea hadn't known existed woke up. They went around the edge of the lake, toward the hill where she'd kissed Gryffindor the day before, and then went faster once they went past the tall oak. She'd heard stories about how the Quidditch players trained in a similar fashion, but that was for sport not survival. The only exception was Victor Krum who Althea was certain would be a Hufflepuff in this day and age. Helga would've loved him.
Birds flew out of the trees as they passed by, and an oak full of bowtruckles buzzed with energy when they got too close. Coming out of the forest and back to the other edge, Helga sped up and Althea struggled to keep pace. She looked up at the looming castle and saw a figure standing in one of the tower windows. From the distance it was hard to be certain who it was, but it seemed like Gryffindor was in the same tower as the Headmaster's Office.
"Keep up!"
Althea tried to ignore Gryffindor and sprinted to catch up. By the time they got back to their starting point, her lungs were burnings and her legs felt like jelly. Helga, of course, seemed barely affected by the exercise and immediately picked up the training sword. Althea managed to catch it before it took off her foot, but the blisters on her hands from the day before ached. She'd completely forgotten to heal them.
"In starting position," Helga instructed. "Go through each for me and then we'll spar."
Althea shifted from her loose stance to defense to offense and back and forth for five minutes before the witch was satisfied. Then she unsheathed her sword, the black hilt glinting, and came at Althea. There was barely time to lift up the blade and block, but she managed to do it. Then she had to fend off another attack and another and another before Helga disarmed her and pushed her down, the sword at her throat.
"You lasted longer that time," she said. "An overnight success."
"Hardly. I failed in under a minute."
"A minute against me is ten to a lesser opponent."
When put like that Althea felt a little more confident in her abilities. She picked up the sword, stood up, and got into position. "Again?"
Helga smirked. "Again."
Nearly two hours later, the women put down their swords and undressed. No one at the Ministry would believe that Althea went skinny-dipping with Helga Hufflepuff, but she figured it was one thing that could be left out of her report. No one really needed to know that Helga was muscled and covered with scars all over her body. It wasn't important to the history.
There wasn't really a way to be completely calm in the lake when Althea knew that there was not only a giant squid, but mermaids and grindylows as well. There were probably more creatures in the water than in the Forbidden Forest. Helga seemed perfectly at ease and stopped more than once to speak Mermish into the water. That, at least, was worth noting.
They didn't swim for too long because Althea cramped up about a half hour after they got in. When they got back to the shore, she put her robes on and walked with Helga into the castle. Like clockwork, Gryffindor appeared and stooped to a low bow. "Lovely ladies! How was your training?"
"Much improved. I suspect that we will finish on time."
"At least I can move today."
Gryffindor smiled and reached out to tug at a wet tendril of Althea's hair. "And a swim as well. Perfect nymphs you must have been."
Helga was having none of it. She slapped Gryffindor's hand away and rested her hand on the hilt of her sword. "Perhaps you should tend to your students. I heard Macmillan's been having some trouble following the rules."
"My students are none of you concern."
"They are all our students."
"My House, my rules," he said. "Remember that, Helga."
He gave a curt nod in Althea's direction before striding away. The badger witch seemed ruffled and sighed before letting go of her sword. "Keep your wits about you with that one, Lady Althea. Godric doesn't lose well."
"I've noticed."
"Did he tell you who gave him that scar above his eye?"
"He said he killed the person who did it."
She laughed. "Saving face as usual. I gave him quite the lashing with that one, and he hasn't quite forgiven me, but I won't be won by a weakling."
Helga definitely wasn't settling down anytime soon, but Althea also knew that she had to have a descendant within the next decade or so to continue the line down to Hepzibah Smith. She wondered who ended up winning the proud Valkyrie's heart.
"And you, Lady Althea? Do you have a sweetheart?"
"No," she said. The words didn't sound quite believable. She didn't have a boyfriend in the modern day—mostly because her job kept her away from home for half the year and the secrecy required. She didn't want to end up like Croaker. Gryffindor, despite the events of the previous day, was definitely not her sweetheart. What did that leave?
"Perhaps in time. Or perhaps sooner than you think."
"I'm not interested in Master Gryffindor."
The woman smiled, nodded, and started walking down the corridor. "I never said it was him."
Rule #7 of the Timekeeper's Code: Do not form relationships in the past.
Althea was sitting in the library, reading one of the illuminated texts, and trying to figure out a new plan. It was entirely possible that she'd royally screwed up the past. Maybe Gryffindor and Slytherin wouldn't have their fight, maybe Slytherin wouldn't leave, and maybe the Baron wouldn't kill the Grey Lady. Maybe, maybe, maybe. She'd never been so unsure in her entire life.
What if she went back to a future where Lord Voldemort had won? Or a future where Albus Dumbledore hadn't defeated Grindelwald? Or even a future without a Ministry… There was no telling what she could travel back to at this rate. She'd broken too many rules, too many laws of time to get off without some kind of penalty. There had to be a price to pay and she was sure that she wouldn't be the one doing it.
She could feel a headache coming on at any moment. How many un-births would she be responsible for at this rate? She was over a thousand years in the past and had fucked up beyond measure. The only reason she'd been allowed to go on this mission was her success rate, research, and copious favors and paperwork for other Timekeepers. She'd destroyed the world with her ambition.
If she returned to the future and it was completely different—what then? Could she go back in time and stop herself from ever bathing in the hot springs? Set history back on course? The issue was that if the Ministry didn't exist then how would she be a Timekeeper? Time travel had all kinds of loopholes that required deep thought to contemplate. It was entirely possible that she could still be a Timekeeper in a different capacity in the future or even just a person who got their hands on one, but that would mean she was stuck in a loop of trying to stop herself and failing.
The headache returned and she slammed the book shut before levitating it back on the shelf. It was too risky to write out her plan, her problems, or a pro/con list, but the urge was strong. It was how she figured out her decisions in the future where she'd assumed things were more complicated. This situation was extremely complicated and made even more so by the headache, her sore body, and the lack of options. Groaning, she stood up and escaped the library without taking much time to note the differences between this time and her own.
Madam Pince would come along further down the timeline and organize and fix everything. Then she would rule over it with an iron fist before retiring to much fanfare and fake sincerity. Althea had seen the library pre-Pince and thought it was a nightmare and the woman was a Godsend. This one was small still, being built up with each passing month, but it would grow exponentially after the invention of the muggle printing press and later the magical version.
She walked down the corridors, rubbing her temples, and tried not to whisper under her breath. It wasn't safe to do that when anyone could be listening. Gryffindor and Helga were teaching, Slytherin was most likely in the Chamber, and Rowena was probably in her secret study too—wherever that was. She essentially had the Castle to herself for once or, if she wanted, it was the perfect time to escape. The longer she stayed the more she touched the future wasn't worth it.
Althea walked out of the castle and toward her camp on autopilot. Everything was just like she'd left it right down to the instant noodle wrapper under her cot. She packed up everything, used a Shrinking Spell, and put it away in an inside pocket of her suit. It seemed like it had been decades since she'd been in the tent and nothing had changed, but everything had. Once the camp was completely torn down, there was nothing left to do but walk the perimeter.
Without doubt, if she ran then Gryffindor would find her. There really wasn't another choice but to wait. She could do it. She'd waited in line for a week for tickets to the Weird Sisters farewell concert. The wait for her O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s results had seemed to take forever. Nine days was nothing.
#
He found her sitting on the floor and staring up at a portrait of Merlin. It seemed like it was the only non-magical art in the entire castle and she wasn't sure why. Althea had her theories of course, but concrete answers were always better than assumptions. Instead of looking down at her or smirking like he usually did, Salazar Slytherin sat down on the floor next to her without a word.
They sat like that for a few minutes before she broke the silence. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm asking myself what Merlin would have done in my situation. You?"
"I'm wondering why this painting isn't magical."
"My question may be unanswerable, but yours is not. His essence and magic were too great to contain. It would have been a weak impression of a great man. A muggle portrait works better—even if Godric hates it."
"Why?"
"He feels like Merlin is the ultimate measurement of goodness in the world and that he can never get close enough."
"And you?"
"I think that it's better to talk to a painting that can't talk back every once and a while. He's a good confidant." He brushed some dark hair back and smiled. "We speak often."
"About what?" She angled her body toward his. It was odd that being close to Gryffindor set every nerve in her body haywire, but being by Slytherin had the opposite effect. That described them really: hot and cold, fire and water, noise and silence.
"School business mostly. I read the first draft of my proposal to him."
"Did he like it?"
"His opinion isn't the one that matters."
"I think that Gryffindor will come around."
"He's fairly stubborn when it comes to these types of things."
"Why didn't you allow squibs in from the beginning? You could have put them in your House and no one could have a say."
He frowned. "We wanted to create a safe haven for magical children, to protect them from the muggles. Ultimate seclusion seemed like the easiest option. I mean, why else build a school out here?"
Considering that squib education never made it into Hogwarts in any of its history, she knew that the matter would never create any lasting effect no matter how hard Slytherin tried. Eventually he'd move on to muggleborns and that would be that. History, while not exactly set in stone, was predictable and Slytherin had to have some kind of cause. Whether it was letting squibs in or keeping muggleborns out didn't make a difference.
"Can squibs even integrate in our society?" she asked.
"I think it's possible. While they may not be able to perform magic it doesn't mean they can't learn. There are practical applications and skills that don't require any kind of spell. It seems unfair to separate an entire group of people from both worlds just because they don't belong."
She realized something and spit it out before she could think it through. "You know a squib."
He frowned for a moment before giving her a terse nod. "My sister."
"I didn't know you had a sister."
"Few do. It's for her protection more than mine."
"What does your wife think of that?" She had neither confirmed nor denied that Slytherin did or did not have a wife, but Tom Riddle aka Lord Voldemort had to come from somewhere. If it wasn't Slytherin himself then maybe it was the squib sister.
Slytherin gave her a funny look. "I haven't taken a wife."
"Oh, I just assumed. What with you being the famous Master Slytherin and all."
"Call me Salazar."
"What?"
"Salazar. It's my name after all. Titles are just possessions, and not the people themselves." He lifted up his left hand and rolled up the sleeve of his cloak. It was to clearly display that he wasn't wearing a ring, mark, or anything of the kind to suggest that he was married or even betrothed. "And you, mysterious Althea?"
"No, I'm alone."
He reached over and grabbed her hand, running his thumb over her palm. "Not having a lover doesn't mean you're alone. There are plenty of other loving bonds. Some stronger than others. I can see that you have and will have much love in your life."
"You study divination?"
"No one else wanted to, and I figured it was a subject worth teaching. It comes in handy sometimes."
He let go of her hand and she felt the absence immediately. They quieted for a moment and, for once, she didn't feel the need to break it. She looked back up at Merlin's portrait and wondered what he would do in this type of situation. First of all, he probably wouldn't have broken protocol to take a bath and then he wouldn't have compromised the mission after that and he wouldn't have trained with Helga or kissed Gryffindor or been sitting in comfortable silence with Salazar. He would have been the Timekeeper that Althea should've been.
"You're crying."
She hadn't realized that silent tears were streaming down her face. They dripped onto her Cloak, darkening the fabric before disappearing. She wiped them away, but for some reason the flood wouldn't stop. Turning her head away, Althea shrugged it off and tried to act casual.
"It's nothing."
She'd learned long ago that crying about life's injustices wasn't a good use of time, and that being loud about it just made everyone else suffer. She'd spent the first couple of summers after starting Hogwarts crying about how much she missed it: the magic, the food, the classes, her friends, etc. Her dad had just patted her hair and kissed her head and said that she could wait a few more months. Her mum just gave one of her withering stares, and Althea learned to be quiet.
"Tears are never for nothing."
"Just something in my eye."
"Then let me help you."
She didn't have a good excuse for that one so she turned toward him. His hands cupped her cheeks as his eyes met hers. He looked concerned, but seemed to relax when he couldn't find anything and the tears stopped. For a moment, she thought he was going to lean in and kiss her but nothing happened. He pulled away and stood up, reaching down to help her. When they were both standing, he reached over and handed her the wand that had somehow slipped out of its holster.
"Yours?" he said.
"Yeah, thanks."
"It's unlike any wand I've seen. The craftsmanship is superb though. They make wands like these in Romania?"
She honestly didn't have a clue whether they did or not. "They can."
"If you don't mind me asking—what's the core?"
"Unicorn hair."
"Ah, Rowena's is the same. Similar disposition I suspect."
Althea put her wand back and silently marveled at the fact that she shared the same type of core with Ravenclaw herself. She stretched out her arms and pushed back some hair. "And yours? What's your core?"
He looked proud for a moment and she knew if it was good info the report wouldn't be a total waste. "Can I trust you?"
"Of course. Who am I going to tell?"
"Godric doesn't know this, and I'd prefer to keep it that way."
"I'd never tell him," she said. "You can trust me."
He pulled out his wand, just barely longer than hers, and held it out. "Basilisk heartstring."
"Excuse me?"
Salazar smiled. "Basilisk heartstring."
"That's not possible."
Multiple things could be used for wand cores. Ollivander had a pamphlet on the subject in his shop and she'd browsed it while waiting to get hers when she was eleven. She'd tried sharing it with her dad, but he hadn't been interested. Wands had no use in the muggle world. The best cores were dragon heartstring (very dependent on what kind of dragon it was), unicorn hair, and phoenix feather. Veela hair, kneazle whiskers, and kelpie hair were less common but still used. She'd never heard of anyone with a basilisk heartstring core.
"Trust me it is. Took a fair bit of work to acquire it, but it's mine." He put the wand away.
"How does one acquire a basilisk heartstring?" She knew about the one he had hidden in the Chamber, but it didn't seem possible to take such a delicate part from a living creature.
"I found sisters," he said, "and one of them was dying. I put it out of its misery and harvested the heartstring."
"I didn't know basilisks could have siblings."
"Two eggs hatched under the same toad," he said.
"Must've been a big toad."
"It was."
Basilisks were rare and dangerous beasts, and only a handful had ever been spotted successfully. It was difficult to investigate and study them when one glance meant certain death. Newt Scamander had been the most successful cryptozoologist to date when it came to them, and she'd followed him on a few of his journeys but never that one. Considering that he'd almost died it wasn't something Timekeepers wanted to risk. The name of the game was observation, and looking at a basilisk could kill.
"Dinner will be served. Will you be joining us again?"
"I plan to."
"Will you sit beside Godric again?"
"Is there somewhere else you'd rather I be?" It was bait and she knew it, but it'd be interesting to see if he'd take it.
"Rowena and Helga would be better company."
He didn't take it.
"Then I would be humbled to sit beside them," she said.
"I will see you then." He nodded once before turning and striding down the corridor.
"Hey Salazar?" she said. "What happened to the other basilisk?"
He turned around and tilted his head. "I found her a home."
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