Authors' Note:

Hi! After so many months, we're finally proud to deliver the second chapter! We've been discussing what should happen in this one for some time, and while we've got mainly what we wanted, some scenes had to be left out for future chapters. Ideas just kept flowing in, and we spent an hour and a half just trying to find where we should place them instead.

Time was also against us, and we really had to find a moment when we would both be in the mood to write this particular story, and that matched both our schedules. In the end, even the Summer wasn't a good time to write, especially with the three heat waves Yumii/Rin suffered.

We would like to thank everyone who read the story, put it in their alerts and favourites/ bookmarks, and left us a review/kudos. At least we know you guys like what we're writing!

Anyway, enough about us—who cares anyway? You're all here for the fic!—and onto the story now. Enjoy~

Disclaimer: The universe and characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling.

Betas: Witchmeister and thepumat, thanks once more, we hope you'll keep doing an amazing job at reading our crazy ideas and correcting our crazy mistakes!

Chapter 2

Godric was sitting on the floor, books piled around him.

While the entire castle was asleep, he had gone to the Library and had searched the shelves in hopes of finding a remedy for Sal. The thing was, he knew his companion was poisoned, but he didn't know exactly which type of poison he was suffering from, so he didn't even dare attempt preparing a cure.

But he didn't trust these strangers. Not after misplacing his trust in his own family before. The past week felt like a nightmare, and not one he could wake up from. It all happened so quickly. Thinking back on it, could he have prevented at least some of it? If he had trusted the right people, could he have saved Rowena? Could he have prevented Sal from getting injured and poisoned? Who could he have trusted? And who was unworthy of his trust? Everything felt foggy in his brain. There was no certainty, nothing but Sal. His one true anchor.

He closed his eyes.

During his stroll, he encountered a rather annoying meowing creature, and was forced to freeze it. The poor animal was still motionless at the entrance of the shortcut he took—that only he knew of, as he was the one who created it to escape Rowena. Oh, Rowena. And Helga, fierce, proud, Helga. She would worry, he knew she would. He hated to make her worry. Every step he took was familiar yet there was an eerie quietude to the castle. The moon shone brightly, the wind sang still, however there was one detail that caught his eye, there, on the wall.

A painting. It was an enormous and beautiful depiction of a village illuminated by Fairy lights, caught in a time of festivity. Godric remembered well the woman who missed her home so much she wanted a piece of it by her side. She had undertaken the lengthy task of sketching the place and was talking about it day and night while working on it. He could picture it in his mind before it was even finished.

And now here it was. Completed, signed and dated, at least two years from the date last time he checked it. Something settled inside him when he saw this.

He had studied the painting thoroughly, taking in all the little details. Taking in the mistake they all made. The nagging feeling at the back of his mind solidified into certitude.

The future is so quiet.

And there he was, back in the tiny room, feeling utterly helpless after having read most of the books—which didn't help him in any way. His gaze navigated from the last book he had just closed to his friend, still passed out. Sal was whining and groaning during his sleep. His face and clothes were damp with sweat, silver locks were stuck on his face, and he was trembling slightly. His traits looked stiff and his closed eyes were wrinkled.

He took a piece of cloth and wet it in a little bucket he placed next to him earlier. He wrung it and ran it gently on his friend's face, his neck and behind his ears to somewhat ease his pain. A sigh peered through Sal's chapped lips. His fever didn't seem to go down at all, and Godric was worrying more and more for his companion's life.

Hurt traveled through his abdomen, and his mind went blank for a second, his head dizzy. He too was feeling very tired from the past events, but he couldn't afford to rest even for a second. It was turning out to be very bad for his own health, but what could he do? After what happened he really couldn't do less for Sal… He knew for a fact the other man would do the same for him, and right now, Sal needed his friend to be there for him. His exhausted thoughts be damned, he wouldn't close an eye before the other had shown the slightest hint of getting better.

Godric was pained to see Sal so sick. And he felt even more useless in this situation, unable to help him get better. And he was so tired after reading all those books… Sal mumbled something in his sleep, and Godric took his friend's hand, stroking the back of it gently with his thumb. He looked at that face, pale as death, and only the thin chest heaving up and down slowly showed him that he wasn't dead. But for how much longer, that was yet to be determined…

He pursed his lips, and opened yet another book in the vain hope that he would find anything useful to cure Sal. Eyes a little red, he read over a dreadful explanation of the way the Pain Killing potion of this time period was brewed. Even him—who didn't know a thing about the art—could tell that they were wasting a lot of time and ingredients in this mixture. Living with a Potions Master and the greatest inventor of her time had its perks, after all, even if he was himself useless when it came to it.

His reading was interrupted by a muffled sound that seemed to come from behind the door, and instantly, he was on his feet. Keeping his eye on Sal, he quietly walked to the door and listened closely as the sound went right past their hideout and kept going along the corridor.

"Show me, dearest," he whispered. The wall shimmered and he was able to see the hall behind. The corridor was brightly lit, the sunlight filtering through the stained glass windows and reflecting on the walls of the waking castle—was it really morning already? Godric took a look at the hall. There was no one here, but somehow the pace kept on echoing around.

Soon, voices accompanied the footsteps, some quiet and others louder, before the hall filled with yawning students. When they disappeared around the corner, Godric waved his hand in a Revelio.

There was nobody near except for him and Sal.

He put his forehead against the stonewall and let out a sigh. He hoped no one would need the books he borrowed…

.

.

Albus knew there were a lot of places still unknown to him, and he had no doubt one of them would be where the two newcomers were hiding right now. Hogwarts had always had this aura of mystery he liked, everything here was so… magical it was probably one of his favourite places in the world. There was no other place that gave him that tingling feeling; the new students coming every year, taking care of them, raising them almost as if they were his own children. Over the years, he started to feel more at home than anywhere else—well, once there was a place… no, someone who made him feel like this, but… Those days were long gone, though a part of himself was still pulling him back to this bygone past.

He looked through the high window illuminating the corridor of the fourth floor, his eyes lingering on the horizon. He had seen this sight many times, yet it always seemed different with every new gaze. In his youth, he used to come here when he was troubled, which was often, since he always had thoughts for Ariana still at home… whatever Aberforth could say about the matter, she'd counted. He sighed, letting himself loosen up a little for a few seconds. The rustling of cloth against the shining floor made him open his eyes once more, and he turned his head in time to see Severus walking down the stairs, exchanging a swift glance with him before disappearing altogether.

With a last glance at the clouded sky, he walked to the Great Hall, greeting a few sleepy students on his way. Despite the recent events, life at the castle was still the same, and he had to keep acting the same towards the young wizards.

With all that happened the previous years, Albus had hoped to finally have a peaceful year without endangering any of his students. Of course, it was only a matter of time until they all believed in Voldemort's return, but until he manifested himself again, Albus would do everything in his power to keep them safe. But who knew who those men were and what they wanted here? The arrival of the two unknown—dangerous?—men was something he was absolutely unprepared for, and right now they were roaming freely within the Castle's walls, out of the Headmaster's control. Who knew who they were and what they wanted here? The old man hated not knowing. It made him feel powerless.

Reaching his seat in the middle on the teachers' table, he sat and entangled his fingers. Minerva was talking a little too seriously with Filius and the other was answering in kind, deep into their conversation. Next to them, Pomfrey was silent, frowning at her plate. When she looked up and saw she had all his attention, she turned her head, frowning again, but this time angst showed in her eyes. He glanced back at the Great Hall, watching Severus speaking with some third year Slytherin before coming to sit next to him.

"Any clue?" he asked, not looking away from the cheerful students ahead.

"Some of my students claim to have seen Potter sneak out of his dormitory last night," the potions master replied in his usual dreary tone. "They couldn't resist playing him a trick and locked him up in the bathroom."

Both teachers turned their gaze at the Gryffindor's table, where a worn out Harry sat, eating among his friends and occasionally throwing murderous glances towards the Slytherin's table. Obviously, he had managed to get out of his predicament, but did he get any sleep at all?

"As amusing as the situation might have seemed," he continued, "it was my duty as head of house to reprimand them… and apparently, I should have been clearer," he said as Draco attempted to cast a hex at Potter. "Mr. Malfoy, you would be kind to wait for me in my office"

Draco rose up elegantly, nose in the air, and turned his back but not before smirking at Potter arrogantly. Severus sighed and began to eat again.

"As for your question," he turned towards Dumbledore once more, "I'm afraid I haven't gathered a single clue about our men's whereabouts." He seemed to think for a moment, but it was difficult to know for sure with his usual expressions. "The one thing I'm wondering about is, why was Potter in the corridors at such a late hour? What could he be plotting this time?"

Albus chuckled.

"You may be inclined to let him wander little, after what actually happened last year—"

"Do not speak about it. Potter isn't a child anymore and he supposedly is able to read the rules and to bend to them like everyone else in this accursed castle!"

"Oh, well you're overreacting my dear friend. I'm sure he wasn't doing anything wrong."

Severus grumbled. Does he even bother listening?

"If he wasn't, then why was he even outside his dormitory past curfew? Had I been the one to find him on the spot, I would have taken points away from his House immediately."

The Potions Master tried to make his point come across, but he had the feeling Albus wanted to drop the subject, judging by the unusually faint twinkle in his eyes. Sighing, the Head of Slytherin recentered the conversation on their two strangers.

"How do you plan on finding our… men? I have already strolled through the entire castle last night, to no avail. Either they somehow know the place better than we do, or they're very lucky in their endeavours… It makes little sense," he added, fuming under his breath.

Albus frowned. Still, he had no doubt they were there, somewhere. He could feel their magical imprints in the very walls of the castle, given how strong they were, but no clue could lead them to the unknown place they hid in.

They were lucky the supposed threat they posed wasn't falling on their heads at the moment. They had much to do already with Umbridge and didn't want to accumulate troubles. The general mood at the teachers' table was tense due to her simple presence.

His eyes darkened.

They all knew what it meant for Hogwarts to have the lady in pink here, and the watchful presence of the Ministry within their quarters wasn't helping the students focus on their studies.

But as long as she was doing a good job teaching the students how to defend themselves in case of danger, Albus wasn't going to complain much. They would all need to know how to fight in the inevitably upcoming war.

However, she had already started to take some of his usual duties from him, and even if it gave him more time to focus on more pressing matters, he knew he had to be careful around her. No one could ever be too sure with Cornelius.

He closed his eyes and suddenly, it came back: a wave of pure magical power hit him. It had happened a few times since the arrival of the strangers but never had it been this strong and he wasn't the only one to notice.

All the ghosts had come to a stop, bringing the attention of a few students to them. Their smiles faded and they looked around at each other. The Grey Lady and the Bloody Baron seemed especially shaken by the sudden outburst of magic. These two, followed by a few other ghosts let out piercing shrieks before flying out of the Great Hall, successfully interrupting the remaining students' breakfast.

The ghosts that had stayed in the hall proceeded to swiftly ignore what had just happened by continuing their previous activities. But the deed was done: something was definitely wrong with the castle.

A commotion shook every house table and soon they couldn't even hear their own neighbour. The uproar grew before a sharp snap silenced it. Every pair of eyes turned to the teachers' table to see a very upset-looking Umbridge glaring at them.

"That is quite enough," she growled before sitting back down, her eyes never leaving them as she started stirring her tea, a faint satisfied smile on her lips.

Albus and Severus shared a glance.

While Albus had—although reluctantly—agreed to let a member of the Ministry into the school as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, he was still the Headmaster, the one in charge. He would need to have a word with her about authority. But, he thought despite all, as long as she did the job for which she was employed, he would disregard any methods used so long as they were legal and helpful to the students. He then counted on his fellow co-workers and on the students to report any unethical activity on her part. He knew fairly well the means the Ministry was ready to use to get witches and wizards around their little finger. Dolores Umbridge would no doubt try to use at least one of such methods, being a fervent believer of the Ministry's good ways.

"Severus, if you would…" Albus started before being interrupted by the squeaking of a chair.

"No, Albus. I'll investigate the matter. Severus has a lot on his plate already and you seem to be the only one here willing to forget that," Minerva said, a slight frown in place. "Being able to rely on your staff is good, but pushing one to the limits isn't. I'll look into what is wrong with the ghosts while you give our Potions Master a rest, for once."

Severus scowled, but Albus' smile didn't disappear until yet another wave of magic—less powerful than the last one, and he surely was the only one here to actually feel it—made him sigh and pinch his crooked nose.

"Very well, Minerva," he told the Charms teacher. "I'll let you investigate the ghosts." Then, in a quieter voice, he added to Severus, "I'm counting on you to keep searching the castle whenever possible. I'll, of course, do the same on my side."

Severus nodded ever so slightly, focussing on his meal again, although he barely touched his food.

.

.

Though his comrades were all babbling about the strange behaviour of the ghosts, Harry's mind was elsewhere and a deep frown marred his features. He felt… angry for no apparent reason and not for the first time this week. A headache followed him since he woke up this morning and he couldn't tear his eyes off the map hidden on his lap under the table.

His gaze followed the Name-That-Shouldn't-Be here at all. It was… impossible, but so were a lot of things in his life. He sighed, his attention shifting on the pumpkin juice Hermione insisted he drank.

When he turned them back on the map, another dot grabbed his interest.

Draco Malfoy. Who was certainly close to the Name-That-Shouldn't-Be. Very close. He held his breath.

He saw Malfoy's name stay there a while, then move past the Name-That-Shouldn't-Be as though he'd just been tying his shoelaces or replacing a bang on his head in front of a mirror—never affording any imperfection—and carry on his way to Snape's office without even halting, as if there was nothing (no one) on his way. As if he hadn't seen anything (anyone) out of place…

It was impossible, although Remus had said it many times: the map didn't lie.

.

.

Godric closed his eyes, feeling the wind tangling his already messed braids and for a moment, all his troubles seemed to vanish. He was so tired from spending the night researching a way to cure his friend, and his body was only asking to rest for a while. Just five minutes would be enough. But he had so much on his mind, and he knew, he just knew he wasn't allowed to have such luxury. There were a lot of things to do, a lot to think about, and while he was wasting his time pondering, Sal was hurting.

He opened his eyes and paced in front of the hidden room where Sal laid safe from further harm. He couldn't help but feel responsible for his friend's poisoning. Because, it was his fault after all, wasn't it? The pain Sal was fighting against, the injury, the poison, it hadn't been a coincidence. Chance had nothing to do with the situation they were in, considering what he'd seen, considering the aim of the traitor's blade.

An image of said traitor appeared in his mind and he shook his head, frowning deeply. In some way, he still didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to even consider such a betrayal possible, such cowardice from someone like him. But the reality was here: Sal had been seriously injured, and they now were in their castle with unknown people claiming to own the place, in a time that hadn't once crossed his mind as a possibility whatsoever. Yes, he knew their plan had backfired, he knew the tampered time travel seals had dumped them in the future—a very distant one—and he just couldn't wrap his mind around the idea that they may never return to their castle, their home. Their family and friends.

Godric sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, stretching his arms and legs to try and regain some energy. He ventured further down the corridor, and took a secret passage down to the kitchens in order to retrieve some food for him, and for Sal, when he would wake up again. He would undoubtedly be hungry then. With a wave of his wand, he determined it was safe for him to exit the passage and he quickly neared the kitchen's doors, tickling the pear on the painting without even thinking about it. The doors opened before him and he cast another glance right and left before entering.

Breakfast time was ending and the house-elves were busy cleaning the dishes, but one finally caught sight of him and turned in his direction. The creature opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His large eyes looked confused and lost all at once, and he nearly dropped the plate he was drying on the floor. Another elf seemed to notice his unusual absence and tapped gently on the elf's shoulder, an air of worry on her face, when her eyes too landed on Godric. He waved a hand at them with a light smile, and, while the first elf fainted, the other screamed in terror, thus bringing general panic in the previously quiet—apart from the clinking of dishes and cutlery and distant chatter—kitchen.

Godric's eyes widened and with a roll of his wrist, his wand popped in his hand. He made a wide gesture across the room and murmured "Impero". Immediately, silence befell the room as all house-elves came to a stop, obeying the man's command. He sighed in relief. He swished his wand in the air a few times, setting the elves back into their previous tasks as he went on to take some food, as was previously planned.

Godric cast a notice-me-not spell once more and left the kitchen, following absentmindedly the hallways, deciding to take the scenic route. He could cross them eyes closed if he wanted to, anyway. He did once—a spell that went out of hand, Rowena's fault as usual, though she would die before admitting it (and how that hurt). He came upon no beings—apart from the group of ghosts who had flown above him, hesitating for a second, before carrying on their way, a few moments ago.

He was nearing the room Sal was resting in when a young blonde figure approached from his left. Weren't everyone in the canteen for breakfast? Quickly and silently, he moved to his right, pressing his body tight against the wall and holding his breath, hoping the student would just move past him like the ghosts had.

"Tch, stupid Potter," he growled, clenching his fists.

Godric raised an eyebrow at the name but kept quiet as the boy's footsteps slowed when he noted the characters of the paintings seemed to watch him closely. The boy frowned, a drop of sweat running across his temple.

"What are you looking at?" he snarled at the family in the portrait, and they all scurried away in their house, watching cautiously through the curtained window and pointing at something behind him.

The blond boy froze before turning carefully to look directly through him and Godric eyed him coolly. The boy glared at the paintings before departing. Finally.

"Curse them! Making me lose precious time," the blond muttered, putting a hand to his face to push aside a strand of hair.

With the boy finally out of sight and earshot, Godric let out a soft relieved sigh and got back on his way to Sal, his arms still full of food for the both of them. Soon enough, he reached their hideout, and, making sure nobody was around, carefully pressed a loose brick in the wall to reveal the hidden room. He slipped inside the small place and plopped down next to his unconscious companion, who was groaning and shifting slightly in his sleep.

Godric took Sal's hand, drawing in quiet breaths. When he thought about every single thing that eventually brought them in their current predicament, he couldn't help but feel like a complete coward. If only he hadn't turned a blind eye to the signs, if only he had listened… if only he wasn't so…

He snickered to himself. So much for bravery.

Godric inhaled sharply when Sal's hand squeezed his as he brought an apple to his mouth. Turning his attention back on his companion, he studied his sweaty face closely and noticed two silver orbs staring at him weakly.

"Welcome back," Godric whispered, a bitter smile on his face.