“See how easy that was, James?” Slytherin asked, gesturing grandly. James saw that the wizard had his wand in his hand. He flicked it, almost casually, and a bolt of stunning, excruciating pain rammed down James’ spine. He arched his back and stumbled backwards, landing on the stone terrace. The agony was monumental. In it, James forgot where he was. His vision went white and hazy. All that mattered was that the pain should stop. It seemed to last hours and days. Then, suddenly, it was gone, and James knew that it had been mere seconds. His eyes cleared and he saw Slytherin standing over him, smiling with interest.
“I did not do that because you only answered the question partially,” Slytherin said. “I did that because you hesitated. I trust you won’t let it happen again.”
Slytherin spun, as if to address everyone present. “And now, loud enough for us all to hear, what is your full name?”
James struggled up, grunting. His knees felt watery and very weak, but he got them beneath him. “James Sirius Potter,” he answered, hating himself for it. The thought of that pain striking him again was horrid. He’d do almost anything to avoid it. And besides, he thought, what did it matter? What could Slytherin do with any information James might give him? It was a thousand years in the past, wasn’t it?
But the future is built on the foundation of the past, a voice seemed to whisper in James’ ear. He thought it was the voice of his father. Be careful, James. Be shrewd.
“James Sirius Potter,” Slytherin said. “Such an innocent sounding name. Where are you from, Master Potter? When is your time? What can you tell us of it? Pray, leave nothing out.”
“I’m from the future,” James said grimly. “A thousand years from now. I am a student at this school in that time.”
“Amazing,” Slytherin said, his voice eager. “And yet this is obviously a lie. I credit your boldness, but it will not serve you well. Answer me truthfully this moment or face the Cruciatus Curse again. What say you?”
“It is the truth,” James replied, raising his voice. “If you want me to make up something to suit what you want to hear, just let me know. I’ll be happy to tell you whatever story you want.”
“Do not tempt us, James Sirius Potter. If, indeed, Hogwarts College exists a thousand years from now, then it exists in a day when the magical realm has finally subjugated the Muggle hoard. There would be no room in such a college for a student like yourself, a boy of obviously dull abilities and mental weakness. Such a college would put you out where you belong: with the Muggle cattle and half-blood dogs. Tell us the truth now, or die with your lies.”
“I’m not lying!” James said, growing bold. “Your predictions don’t come true! In my time, the Muggles live alongside the magical world. They don’t even know about us! The wizarding world has lived in secrecy among them for centuries. There are laws that make sure no witch or wizard tells any Muggle about us. Not only am I a student a Hogwarts, some of my classmates are the children of Muggles. In my time, any witch or wizard can attend Hogwarts, no matter who their parents are. Your stupid plans are going to come to nothing! In fact, in my time, you’re best known for getting kicked out of the school because you were a mad, power-hungry loon!”
“You lie!” Slytherin roared, wheeling on James and raising his wand. “You have come here to sow deceit and doubt, but you are found out! You have not the slightest shred of evidence that this time you speak of is true, and the evidence of our very beings proves you false. The wizarding realm could never sink into the shadows of the Muggle world. It would be a blasphemy and a mockery. If this age that you describe were a reality, it would collapse under the weight of its own absurdity!”
Slytherin turned again, his robes flapping in the wind as he raised his arms. “My friends! We are confronted with a mystery. If the world this James Sirius Potter describes is, in some version of the shifting mists of the future—and against all logic—a reality, then it must be prevented at all costs. And if, as I strongly suspect, this boy is a fraud and a liar, flying in the face of our every attempt to consort with him as gentlemen, then he is our mortal enemy. Either way, our course is clear…” Here, Slytherin whipped around again and glared at James. “The boy must die,” he said, grinning viciously. He raised his wand.
Without thinking, James ducked and leapt as Slytherin called the words of the Killing Curse. The bolt of green sizzled over James’ head. He scrambled down to the lowest terrace and hid behind one of the two stone chairs.
“Stay your wands,” Slytherin called to his associates, unperturbed. “I can manage the boy. None of you need bother yourselves.”
James wished desperately that he still had his wand. An idea occurred to him and he called out. “Hey! You call yourself a gentleman? Not much nobility in cursing a kid, is there? At least give me my wand!”
Slytherin laughed in delight. “Finally, the boy shows some spirit,” he cried. “As you wish, Master Potter. Let us duel. Come forth and collect your wand.”
James peered cautiously around the side of the throne. Slytherin saw him and his grin widened. He produced James’ wand from his robes and held it out. James steeled himself and climbed to his feet again. He began to cross the wooden floor toward Slytherin, carefully and quickly, his heart pounding.
Suddenly, surprisingly, there was a loud thump from directly beneath James’ feet. He jumped, startled, and looked down. He was standing on the trapdoor.
“They come, Salazar,” one of the cloaked wizards said. “They have sensed our summit. We must depart. Deal with the boy elsewhere.”
“No,” Slytherin said, still grinning. “They cannot reach us. The tower cannot be breached from outside by any means until the summit is ended. It is the magical law of the Sylvven Tower. Let us finish our work first, and then deal with my fellow founders. It is high time they realized the error they have made in plotting against me.”
Voices emanated from below and there was another thump on the thick wood of the trapdoor. The magical lock rattled but held firm.
“Take your wand, James Potter,” Slytherin said. “Let us finish this as wizards.”
James firmed his resolve and stepped off the trapdoor. He’d heard the stories of how his father had faced off against Voldemort in very similar fashion. But as James had thought so many times before, he was not his father. James had no chance against the sheer malevolent power of Salazar Slytherin. Worse, there was no place to run or hide. The tower was too high to escape from. James didn’t even know how to Disapparate. Shakily, he reached up for his wand. Slytherin released it, still smiling.
James cleared his throat as he backed away, holding his wand in front of him. “Do we bow first?” he asked.
“I bow to equals,” Slytherin said, baring his teeth. “You may bow when you’re dead.” He swept his arm forward. “Avada Kedavra!”
James leapt again and the spell struck the throne with a blast of green sparks. A small, detached part of James’ mind realized that he was making very good use of the physical techniques he’d learned in Professor Debellows’ Defence Against the Dark Arts class. He almost groaned aloud.
“Use magic, not acrobatics, boy!” Slytherin taunted, shaking his sleeve back. “Let your corpse be the first thing my fellow founders see when they join us here! Face me and die with a shred of honor!”
James was terrified. He rolled on the wooden floor and scrambled up, waving his wand wildly. He pointed it, desperately trying to remember the incantation. It was one of the first he’d ever learned, but his mind was a complete blank.
“That’s more like it!” Slytherin rasped, striding forward, coming to meet James. He held his wand casually before him, teasing James with it. “Do your worst, boy! Show me what they teach you in this fantasy time of yours! Do it now!”
James blurted the spell the moment it came into his head. Slytherin spoke his curse at exactly the same time. Both bolts exploded over the wooden floor, lighting it. Slytherin’s green bolt pierced James’ oversized robe, passing right through it a
nd under James’ outstretched arm, barely missing his body. James’ yellow bolt struck the lock on the trapdoor. It unlocked with a burst of sparks and the door flew open, releasing a beam of light and the sound of voices.
“It’s open!” someone cried. “Someone unlocked it from above! Beware a trap! Protego!”
Slytherin roared in fury. He pointed his own wand at the door, but it was too late. Figures ran up the stairs from below, wands at the ready. Spells exploded in all directions, illuminating the tower’s peak like fireworks. James took the opportunity to dive behind the marble throne again. The air was suddenly full of the hiss and swirl of Slytherin’s circle of nine Disapparating from the top of the tower. One of them remained long enough to approach James, flourishing his wand. He had a black goatee, which bristled as the man grinned.
“Nice trick, boy,” he growled, “but we detest unfinished business.”
James’ reflexes had been sharpened by his duel with Slytherin. Even as the man finished speaking, James whipped his wand around and shouted, “Expelliarmus!”
There was a sharp crack and the man’s wand shot from his hand, spinning into the darkness beyond the tower wall. The force of the spell pushed the man backwards. He stumbled and tripped on one of the terraces. With a roar of anger, he spun to see where his wand had gone. Realizing it was lost, he turned back, his hands hooked into claws and his face contorted with rage.
“Stupefy!” James cried, scrambling backwards, but his aim was off. The spell struck the stone floor to the man’s right.
“You’ll die for that, boy!” the man roared, pouncing like a beast.
There was a flash of purple light and the man screamed in mid-pounce. He landed hard in front of James’ feet, bringing his face down hard enough to break his nose. James heard the crunch and grimaced. He scrambled to his feet, eyes wild, waving his wand crazily.
“Halt, boy!” a voice commanded. A hand suddenly grabbed James’ wrist, bringing it up. James struggled against it for a moment, and then looked to see whose hand it was. Godric Gryffindor’s stern, narrow features looked down at him.
“The battle is over, my friend,” he said, releasing James’ wrist. “Whoever you are, you are one extremely fortunate young wizard.”
“He’s not just a wizard,” a woman’s voice said, and there was a hint of an amused smile in it. James looked and saw Rowena Ravenclaw throw back the hood of her blue cloak. “He’s the youngest cleric in the realm. And he’s tussled with Salazar before.”
“Where’s he gone?” James suddenly asked, looking around the top of the tower.
“Vanished,” Ravenclaw answered gravely. “Escaped. Assumed his true form and flown off.”
“What’s his true form?” James asked, shuddering as his adrenaline wore off.
“Rowena speaks facetiously,” Helga Hufflepuff replied, approaching the tower’s low wall and peering out into the darkness beyond. “Slytherin is an Animagus. She speaks of his animal self as his true form since she believes him unworthy of the title of human.”
“Is he a snake?” James asked, joining Hufflepuff by the wall and peering down.
“Curiously, no,” Gryffindor answered. “Salazar’s true form is perhaps even more fitting, for he has proven himself to be similarly blind, nocturnal, and bloodthirsty. Salazar’s Animagus is, in fact, a bat.”
A groan reminded the assembly of the stricken man with the goatee. He rolled onto his back and struggled to sit up, one hand clapped over his nose.
“This man is no danger without his wand,” Gryffindor said, “thanks to our quick-thinking friend here.” To the man, he said, “I’d not attempt to Disapparate if I were you, Lord Morcant. That was more than a Bonelock Hex I cast on you. It was also a Lanyard Charm. You’d get no further than a stone’s throw before being leashed, and I am told it can be rather painful.”
“You broke my nose!” Morcant cried, showing them the palm of his hand. It was slick with blood. “I’ll kill the lot of you! Return me my wand this instant!”
“I think not, my lord,” Ravenclaw replied. “I suspect you won’t hold a wand for quite some time. We have many questions for you, and it’d be best if you answered them.”
“You’ll torture me, will you?” Morcant spat, climbing to his feet. “I’m not afraid of what you’ll do to me! I’ll never speak. Do your worst!”
“We won’t need to torture you,” Hufflepuff said reasonably. “If you choose not to answer our interrogations, we shall simply let you go.”
Morcant narrowed his eyes. “How dare you mock me? I know your kind! Your lies do not deceive me!”
“You know your kind, Morcant,” Ravenclaw corrected politely, “and you assume everyone else is of like mind. We shall indeed release you if you refuse our questions, and we shall not harm a single hair on that fetching beard of yours. You should beware however; your release might result in some people getting the wrong impression. Some observers might interpret your unscathed release as a sign that you told us absolutely everything you know.”
Gryffindor arched an eyebrow meaningfully. “Your associate, Salazar Slytherin, would not appreciate that, would he? He has been known to deal rather harshly with those who betray him.”
“He would not believe such lies,” Morcant scoffed. “He knows I am trustworthy. Besides, I am not afraid of him.”
Gryffindor approached Morcant and leaned toward him. In a conspiratorial tone of voice he said, “I hear rumours that Salazar’s been developing a curse that turns his enemies inside out. Technically, I’d say that was impossible, but Salazar is quite the genius when it comes to such things. Knowing him, he’ll simply continue practicing it until he gets it right. He’s probably hoping you’ll betray him, just so he has an excuse to use you as another test subject.”
“He’ll trust me!” Morcant insisted again. “He knows I would never betray him!”
Ravenclaw shrugged. “Salazar never struck me as the trusting type,” she said, “but perhaps you know him better than we do.”
“On the other hand,” Hufflepuff mused, “if you do decide to assist us, we could protect you from any potential reprisals.”
Morcant scoffed, and James heard desperation in the man’s voice. “You? Slytherin has twice the power of the rest of you combined!”
Gryffindor smiled. “I’m certain he has convinced even himself of that. But why, then, did he transform into a flying rodent the moment he witnessed our approach? Why did he flee rather than face us wand to wand? Slytherin does not ask himself such questions, but it behooves you, Lord Morcant, to think about it very carefully.”
Morcant scowled furiously. Finally, through gritted teeth he said, “He means to overthrow the lot of you. He wishes to control the school entirely, and use it as the seed of a magical empire. He knows you have been plotting against him. His intent is to strike first.”
“How instructive,” Gryffindor said grimly. “He believes we have been plotting against him. But do let us continue this elsewhere. Rowena, Helga, perhaps you might escort our mysterious young friend back down to the main castle? I will accompany Lord Morcant to a safe place. We can palaver there at our leisure.”
Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw agreed. A moment later, there was a loud crack as Gryffindor Disapparated from the tower with Lord Morcant in tow.
“Let us retire to the Great Hall,” Ravenclaw said, turning to James and Hufflepuff. “It should be deserted at this time of night. Perhaps our friend would like something to eat as we discuss?”
Hufflepuff nodded. “Indeed. We must determine who you are, young man. And how to return you from whence you came.”
“I can’t imagine how we’ll do that,” James replied, remembering the shattered portal mirror. “My only way home was smashed to bits by Slytherin. I’m stuck here.”
“Surely this is not the case,” Ravenclaw said cheerfully. “It may not be immediately apparent, but the solution shall present itself.”
Hufflepuff smiled at James. “The answer is almost always simple,
young man, but rarely is it easy.”
James had begun to walk toward the open trapdoor, but he stopped when Hufflepuff said that. Where had he heard that before? A moment later, he remembered. Merlin had said something like it in the cave when they’d gone to get his cache. Doing what is right is nearly always simple, Merlin had said, but it is never easy. And then, connected to that, James remembered something else the big wizard had said, later, when they’d all been in the Headmaster’s office, examining his unpacked devices and curiosities.
James turned on the spot, his eyes wide, wondering. It couldn’t be that simple, could it? He had to find out, and quickly.
“No,” James said excitedly, “not the Great Hall. We have to go back to Slytherin’s quarters! Right away, before he comes back!”
Ravenclaw furrowed her brow. “Why in the earth should we go there?”
“And what makes you think he shall return?” Hufflepuff added, studying James’ face.
“Because he’d never leave all his stuff,” James answered quickly. “His ‘dark trinkets’. They’re too important to him. He’ll come back for them, probably right away, before anyone moves any of it. We have to get there first. If I’m right, he has something really important. It may be my only chance of getting back to my own time!”
Ravenclaw merely studied James, her eyes serious and thoughtful. Helga Hufflepuff, however, nodded curtly. She stepped forward, and held out her hand.
“In that case, dear boy, let us forego the stairs. Rowena, wand at the ready. If we intend to hurry, then let us hurry like witches, and hope that Salazar has not already outwitted us this night. On the count of three. One… two…”
“Three!”
James felt the disorienting jolt of Disapparition again as Hufflepuff took him away from the Sylvven Tower. A moment later, a dim hallway appeared around him and his feet hit the stone floor. Almost instantly, there was a second loud crack and Rowena Ravenclaw appeared next to James and Hufflepuff. Both women had their wands out. They scanned the hall in both directions. Without a word, Hufflepuff pointed. James looked. He recognized this hall as the one that led to Slytherin’s quarters. Now, with a shiver, he saw that the door to the wizard’s office was ajar. Light spilled from it, and there was the clunk of stealthy movement.
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