"In life, we must always find things out straight from the horse's mouth and not listen to the jackass spreading the gossip."

Unknown


The eruption had ceased, leaving in its wake a silence so profound it seemed to have swallowed the world whole. Vesuvius, once a roaring beast of fire and fury, had stilled, its mighty roar reduced to a faint echo that reverberated through the desolate landscape. And the once-thriving kingdom of Pompeii lay cloaked under a thick shroud of ash and volcanic debris, its bustling streets, once filled with the vibrant hum of daily life, now silent and empty; the city's life extinguished beneath a layer of wrathful vengeance.

Xenon, guardian of the very mountain that had unleashed its wrath upon the world, had retreated to his subterranean sanctuary; his immense, cerulean-blue form moving with an almost mournful grace as he carefully cradled the witch whose strength and sacrifice had been instrumental in saving what souls they could from the volcano's fury. His great scaled claws shimmered with an ethereal blue light as he held Eithne's fragile form with a tenderness that belied his formidable presence.

The witch's appearance starkly contrasted with the devastation that had unfolded, her once-vibrant flesh looking pale and fragile; as if the eruption had not only destroyed the city but had also sapped her vitality. Yet, despite her weakened state, the scales adorning her forearm continued to shimmer with a life that was almost supernatural. This subtle glow spoke of a deep, inexplicable connection between Eithne and Xenon; a connection that equally troubled and intrigued the ancient dragon to his very core.

It was a mystery that had yet to be unravelled - a puzzle that Xenon knew could not be hurried. They had done all they could, saving as many lives as possible from the catastrophic eruption that had cleansed the world of the Pyroviles. But the tremendous effort and excess siphoning of energy had drained Eithne significantly; the very magicks' she had channelled nearly inexhaustible and overwhelming her mortal form, and Xenon had acted swiftly and without thought; bringing her to the depths of his hidden sanctuary and into the very core of the mountain-come-volcano.

With a gentle, almost reverent touch, the dragon laid the witch upon a bed of verdant moss interspersed with ancient, luminescent crystals. His golden eyes watched her every movement with keen concern, noting the subtle shifts in her breathing and the faintest signs of discomfort. The air was thick with the lingering energies of the mountain's wrath, yet, as he breathed deeply; scenting the air to get a better judge on Eithne's condition, that same volcanic sulphur mingled with the tang of something that tickled at his senses - a familiarity that sent his already turbulent emotions spiralling.

The bond they shared- he would one day form, was glaring obvious, branded into Eithne's very flesh; the shimmering scales on her forearm mirroring his own and signifying a connection that transcended mere coincidence, and Xenon's mind churred with conflicting emotions.

Oh, he was truly at awe by its reality; the inexplicable link that had allowed the witch to siphon his magick and use it as her own. But the dragon could also not help but contemplate its significance; what had at first been but a curious anomaly now feeling more like a symbol of something far greater and utterly terrifying.

Eithne's breath was shallow, her body limp and unmoving. Yet, even in her unconscious state, the guardian of Vesuvius could not deny the aura of power about her; one that did continue to resonate deeply within Xenon's own ancient magicks.

But... who was she really?

She had claimed to be from the future, sent back to save those who could not save themselves. Yet, by whom, and for what purpose?

These questions troubled Xenon deeply, the dragon questioning how such a mortal could have been in two places at once; the presence and yet not. The scales on her arm, identical to his own, suggested a connection that transcended time and space. But they did little to clarify why she had been sent back to this specific moment. Someone, somewhere, had clearly orchestrated their meeting - orchestrated the very sequence of events that had led them here, and the gravity of this realisation weighed heavily on Xenon's mind.

It was as if the threads of fate had woven a pattern that was as intricate as it was inscrutable.

Though, as he continued to look upon Eithne's delicate form, a sudden and powerful surge of protectiveness swelled within Xenon. It was a sensation both alien and comforting, a stark departure from his usual role as detached guardian - and reminded the dragon of ages long past.

With a contemplative rumble and a faint frown tugging his scaled lips, Xenon managed to turn his attention away from Eithne and to a small, unassuming wooden box resting on a pedestal of ancient stone. The box was ornately carved, its surface adorned with intricate designs that spoke of forgotten eras and long-lost secrets - a treasure of immense significance that had been safeguarded by Xenon for countless eons.

Carefully, Xenon reached for the box, his clawed hands moving with a surprising grace. The lid creaked open at his touch, revealing the contents within - a single obsidian dagger which dark blade gleamed with an eerie, almost hypnotic lustre-

"Salazar?"

Salazar Slytherin's quill paused mid-sentence, the ink pooling into a small blot on the parchment. He glanced up from his work, his piercing green eyes meeting the concerned gaze of Rowena Ravenclaw as she shadowed the now-opened doorway of his private quarters; a blend of worry and curiosity marring her features.

"Rowena," he greeted with a single nod, his tone betraying the weight of his thoughts. "I did not hear you come in."

"I came to see if you had time to speak about your dreams," was explained as Rowena stepped into the room. Yet, as she caught sight of the parchment and the still-dripping quill in the wizard's hand, her words trailed off; surprise and sorrow beginning to war within her gaze. "Oh, Salazar... another?"

Salazar could only sigh heavily, setting his quill down with a weariness that seemed to settle into his bones. And his hands moved to rub his temples, as if trying to ease the ache that these recurring dreams brought upon him.

"Yes, another," he murmured, his voice low and troubled. "This time, however, I was Xenon; the dragon of Vesuvius." A smirk pulled at his features, yet it was hollow, without emotion, before it was gone completely; lips thinning into a line. "Pompeii... it was a scene of devastation, beyond what words could ever capture. The pain, the sorrow, the sheer agony of the mountain's fury..."

Rowena watched him intently, her heart aching at the weight of his words. She knew that these dreams were more than mere visions to Salazar; they were visceral experiences that had left an indelible mark on his soul. And moving to his side, the witch rested her hand gently on his shoulder, silently urging him to continue even as her sharp eyes traced the words printed ever so delicately upon the parchment before them.

"I-the dragon, Xenon, he had Eithne with him," Salazar continued, his gaze turning distant as he recounted the vivid images from his nightmare. "She, she was so frail, her strength nearly spent from channelling the magicks needed to save lives. But what struck Xenon the most... were the scales on her forearm, a very match for the dragon's own. He believed it to be a connection, inexplicable yet profound, and bound her to him."

Rowena listened intently, her mind racing with hundreds of questions and thousands of concerns. Yet-

"Eithne?" she echoed, surprise colouring her tone. "As is Professor Þēodnes? You saw her in this dream?"

Salazar nodded, the lines of worry etched deeply into his face. "Yes, but not just this one. She appears time and time again, always linked to these pivotal moments in some way or another. Though this time, the connection seemed... deeper."

"Perhaps you should speak with her about these dreams, Salazar," Rowena offered softly, even as she tried to connect the dots between Eithne, Xenon, and said dreams. "She might offer insights we haven't yet considered."

"You believe she knows something?" Salazar's expression had darkened slightly at the suggestion - and Rowena couldn't stop herself, her hand quickly leaving his shoulder only to reconnect seconds later with no intention of comforting.

"I did not say that, you suspicious bastard," the witch scolded, though her exasperated tone was tinged with fondness. "But you can't deny Eithne is no ordinary witch. She has a deep connection with the natural world, and her insights have always been... profound. If anyone could help you make sense of these dreams, it is she."

Salazar's eyes softened slightly, the tension in his posture easing as he considered Rowena's words. "You may be right," he conceded. "Eithne has always had a way of seeing beyond the obvious, of understanding the hidden currents of the world. Perhaps she can help me unravel this tangled web of dreams and reality."

Rowena nodded - even as a small smile began to play about her lips. "And besides, she seems to have caught your eye from the moment you saw her. Perhaps your dreams are trying to tell you something about her significance in your life."

A flicker of something unidentifiable crossed Salazar's face, but he quickly masked it with a look of contemplation. "Maybe," he murmured, his voice turning thoughtful. "Xenon did feel something... familiar, almost fated."

"And her transformation?" Rowena prompted gently, bring the Potions Master back to his account of the dream.

"It caught Xenon off-guard," was eventually admitted, Salazar's brows furrowing as his thoughts shifted. "A golden light, something he noticed shimmering beneath her skin. It... it changed her. It was not magick, but something more profound. It felt as if Time had intervened, a sensation that reminded the dragon of the Titan of Time."

"Chronos?" Rowena questioned thoughtfully, her fingers tracing the inked words on the parchment with an almost reverent touch. "You mention she calls him 'Elderan'. Why would she use that name?"

"He did not deny it," Salazar said quietly, the memory of the dream vivid in his mind.

"But Salazar, Elderan the Un-"

"Could it be possible that Eithne, the one in my dreams, is like the others?" Salazar cut in, not wanting to think of what Rowena was suggesting. And the witch seemed to get the message, allowing the topic change as she asked instead, "A Time Lord? Don't you think that's a little farfetched, Salazar?"

"I honestly don't know," he admitted. "But her presence in two places at once, her connection to Xenon and possibly even Time Himself... it suggests something far beyond our mere understand. And the scales on her forearm, the transformation under that golden light - it felt like a revelation from the very Gods, yet one shrouded in mystery."

"If she is indeed a Time Lord," Rowena humoured, "Sent back for a purpose... what could it mean? I mean, why Vesuvius? Why at that particular moment?"

Salazar rubbed his temples again, a gesture of both frustration and deep contemplation. "I don't know, Rowena. These dreams only show me glimpses; glimpses of a greater design, intertwined with the fate of the pursuit of power. Viktor, Rassilon, Thalamere, Cleon... they all seek the Deathly Hallows, using their Time Lord abilities in ways that mimic our own magick. Yet, Eithne... she seems different, a key to something larger."

"Perhaps she holds the key to understanding the Dagger of Fate," Rowena suggested as her finger came to the end of what Salazar had written. "Xenon's reverence for it suggests its importance in the grand scheme of things."

The Potions Master nodded slowly as their thoughts aligned. "The Dagger - all of the Hallows have appeared in my dreams in some form or another - those Time Lords seeking them with such fervour. If Eithne is linked to them, then her purpose must be significant; tied to a greater design, one involving the Hallows and the balance of power and fate."

"Then speak with her," Rowena urged gently, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "We will find the answers, my friend," she promised softly, her voice a beacon of resolve. "Together, we will uncover the truth behind these dreams that bind us to their path. But I feel you should share your dreams, your fears, with her and see what wisdom she can offer. "

Salazar met her gaze, gratitude and determination flickering to life within his emerald eyes. In that moment, amidst the weight of their shared destiny, he found solace in Rowena's unwavering presence by his side.

"Together," he echoed, his vow of solidarity cementing Rowena's promise.

As the first light of dawn filtered through the tall, arched windows of the room, casting a golden glow over the ancient stone walls, Salazar felt a renewed sense of purpose. With Rowena's encouragement and Eithne's potential insights, he was ready to face the mysteries of his dreams and uncover the truths hidden within them.

"Come," Rowena said, a note of determination in her voice. "Let us find Eithne and begin this journey. There is much to discover, and time is of the essence."

Salazar nodded, rising to his feet with a newfound resolve. Together, they left the room, their footsteps echoing through the silent corridors of Hogwarts, each step bringing them closer to the answers they sought and the destiny that awaited them.