Chapter 144: Mortem Affarem

Harry’s eyes fluttered open, and for a second there, his heart raced as he saw the cathedral-like ceiling of the room of requirement.

“Really wonder sometimes if Ravenclaw was Christian,” Harry muttered as he rolled his way out of the ridiculously plush and comfortable bed he’d spent the night in.

“She wasn’t,” the sorting hat sitting on a nightstand next to his bed said. “But her family was. It influenced her sense of aesthetics. Considering that even wizards didn’t have much in the sense of literature back then, the fact that she grew up next to an abbey with a large library probably helped her become the person she was.”

“The monks just let her?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow as he quickly ran his wand over his body, completing a twenty-minute grooming ritual in ten seconds.

“The first magic she learned was the notice-me-not charm. The first language she was fully fluent in was Latin,” the hat remarked.

“This room,” Harry said while jumping up and down to prepare his body for his morning exercise. “It’s a work of art. You’re a work of art. Godric created a miracle, so did Ravenclaw. To imagine that, in addition to this room, she also left behind the diadem. Hufflepuff made a goblet that can copy even potions. Why did Slytherin not leave anything more impressive than an ugly abomination in the sewers?”

Chanithachuah hummed thoughtfully. There was a part of Godric in him, a few memories alongside the man’s knowledge of the mind arts. He’d known Rowena.

Why had Harry never bothered interrogating the hat about the history of magical Britain?

“Well, people remember Salazar as a bit of a shithead,” the hat eventually said. “That’s probably because he was. He was paranoid, insular, separatist and all around just a generally insufferable person.”

“Sounds like some people we know,” Harry remarked with a snort as the hat seamlessly transformed into a sword and the two of them started their practised routine. Silver gleamed, and the sound of air being cut filled the room.

A mind attack occasionally reached out to Harry only to be swatted away by a layer of occlumency that was reaching perfection.

“Yes, well, everyone wants to believe that most people are good. Helps with combating depression,” the hat said snidely. “But, realistically, most people are average. 10% are very good and 10% are really shit. Salazar might have had a valid point when he claimed that Hogwarts should not admit muggleborns for fear of them leaking the location of the castle to their families, and through them to the church, but what was the alternative? Leaving the muggleborns to be scorned and eventually burned alive by their communities when they couldn’t control their magic anymore? No, Salazar lacked empathy; he simply tried to hide that fact under a layer of feigned pragmatism. In the end, he believed that he was right to such an extent that the only thing he could imagine contributing to the school was a secret chamber holding some sort of horror that would cleanse the school in the worst-case scenario, in case he was ever proven right. Well, it’s been a thousand years, and he was wrong as ever. The weapon he left behind has never resurfaced because there was no need. The reason he left no magical legacy? If you ask me, it’s because of his motivations. Rowena wanted to help those who sought knowledge, which is why she created this room and the diadem. Helga wanted to save those suffering from the plague, which is why she made the goblet. Godric wanted to empower his apprentice, free him from his inborn lack of talent, which is why he made me. Salazar was simply afraid of people. He dwelled on the darkness of humanity without ever recognising their light. His legacy is one of fear, paranoia and secrecy.”

“I think that’s the most I ever heard you talk,” Harry mused as sweat started being expunged from his pores.

"Salazar was necessary for the creation of Hogwarts, don’t think that he wasn’t. He was a noble, he had connections, a mastery of rituals and potions I’ve never witnessed in anyone else. But amongst the founders, it was generally agreed upon that he was in fact the least great of the Hogwarts four, at least in character.”

Harry chuckled. “So he wasn’t the greatest of the Hogwarts four?”

“No, and the fact that he overheard the rest of us saying that was one of the reasons why he left in such a huff,” the hat said sardonically.

“Wasn’t it because you couldn’t agree on the muggle-born issue?” Harry asked curiously. “It seems like a bigger thing to disagree on.”

“That’s what people say, I guess,” the hat said disinterestedly. “I got the rather distinct impression that he left because the other founders always shot him down when he tried to claim to have contributed the most to the creation of the school.”

“That’s lowkey hilarious,” Harry said. “But who contributed what, really?”

“Salazar paved the way politically in the British Isles for this school to exist and solicited the noble and established families to send us their children. Godric increased the prestige of Hogwarts through his exploits on the continent and got several families from abroad to also send their children. He was also the most dangerous combatant in the castle and served as a, ah, you would call it a nuclear deterrent, I guess. Rowena was the one who contributed most to the library in those days, while also making it possible to collect muggleborns through an enchanted book she created, which wrote the names of every Muggleborn on the British islands from the moment they exhibited their first bout of accidental magic. Helga contributed most to actually building this thing. Every brick ran through her wand before being set on the previous one. She was also the one who kept the peace after. Horrible temper that woman, but give her a child under seventeen and she turned into the sweetest girl in the world.”

“So basically everyone did their part,” Harry said. 

“Basically.”

“But Slytherin thought he did the most and got mad when nobody agreed with him.”

“In essence.”

“Then he left because he didn’t feel valued. But that sounds stupid, so the story is that he left because of the muggleborns.”

“Yes. The founders joked that by leaving the soonest, he simply cemented his position as the least great of the Hogwarts four.”

“Interesting,” Harry said, and he meant it. “I guess sometimes there’s no point in recontextualising history. Some people are just losers.”

“His parents were quite demanding; I assume it had something to do with that. He could never live up to their expectations. I heard his father call him a disappointment once. That was after he’d become one of the most powerful wizards in the country and co-founded Hogwarts mind you.”

Harry shook his head and started winding down the exercise. “Many such cases,” he said. “Many such cases.”

-/-

It was still early in the morning, and the headmaster’s office was located in the completely opposite direction from the great hall where everyone would soon gather to eat breakfast.

This was likely the reason why Harry did not meet a single student on his way to the tower in which the headmaster lived.

Once there, however, he found Professor McGonaggal already waiting for him in front of the gargoyle, dressed in her usual dark emerald green robe and her pointed hat. She did not look pleased. Or rather to say, her frown was even more severe than usual.

“The headmaster won’t attend the meeting as originally intended, something about a wide-scale transfiguration disaster in the Wizengamot chambers," the professor explained with a tight face. “I’ll stand in full as deputy headmistress.” She nodded towards Harry, then, instead of speaking to the gargoyle guarding the office, rushed off down the corridor, Harry barely managing to follow.

“I initially wanted to tell you that the meeting would take place in my offices and to meet me there,” McGonaggal explained. “But you weren’t in the Hufflepuff dorms. Any explanation for that, Mr Evans?” She asked as their robes whirled in the air from their rather brisk walk.

“I always sleep under the bed, Professor. A habit from my childhood, I’m afraid,” Harry said as his mind ran. Dumbledore was gone? Today?

“I see… How foolish of me. I should have checked under there too while I was at it,” McGonaggal said with an acidic look being thrown in Harry’s direction. “Regardless, you’re here now, so my assumption that you would come to the headmaster’s office in time for the original meeting was correct.”

“I aim to please, professor.”

Thankfully, the distance between the headmaster’s and the deputy headmistress’s office was not too great, and soon the two of them walked through the door to find the somewhat portly and highly affable Minister Fudge already there waiting for them in one of the chairs.

“We meet again!” the man explained while standing up and tipping his bowler hat at them. “So kind of you to leave the floo connection open,” he told McGonagall. He spread his arms out towards the table, where one chair was already pulled out. The one he’d been sitting on as they’d entered the office. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve made myself comfortable, professor.”

McGonaggal simply rolled her eyes and went to sit behind her desk, which left Harry to sit next to the minister. “Don’t be foolish, Cornelius and start calling me Minerva, please, I insist,” she said. “You’re touring the department of mysteries this week, I see. How was your stay at the Department of Education?” she asked somewhat sarcastically.

Fudge brushed off the acid without a care in the world. Harry could admire the sheer zero fucks the man seemed to give. “A harsh examination has concluded that most things were running well enough, although the fact that Hogwarts is currently employing a ghost to teach the history of magic is somewhat problematic. Not really the ministry’s problem, though, in my opinion. I’m sure the headmaster will be able to figure it out.”

“I’m sure he will,” McGonaggal said. “You have the artefact?”

Cornelius nodded and put a hand into the inner pocket of his checkered vest. A golden chain with a round attachment was gently laid onto the table. “One time turner fresh from the presses from the department of mysteries. They were glad that I was bringing it, and seemed quite busy. Some sort of… Well, you’d probably rather not know! Quite gross, really…” he chuckled.

“The rule book?” McGonaggal asked impatiently.

“Always with the rules, Minerva, let the kid explore a little,” the minister said with a laugh before pulling out a small booklet and laying it next to the time-turner.

Harry could barely take his eyes or senses off the artefact. The gold was pretty, yes, but the way the time magic caressed his skin, pulsed in erratic beats. This was… An artefact on par with the hat, on par with the room. Quite frankly, the fact that they were just giving it to him… 

“You certainly look excited, my boy! Glad the thing is going to someone who appreciates real magic when they see it!” Fudge said with a laugh when he saw Harry’s facial expression.

“To see a world in a grain of sand,” Harry recited before pausing, not intending to finish.

But, a sort of force seemed to grasp the minister at those words, and he put a hand on the table in front of him, close to the time-turner. “Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,” he continued before looking at Harry expectantly.

“And eternity in an hour,” Harry finished, before tilting his head at the minister. “No heaven in a wild flower, minister?” he asked.

“I don’t believe in heaven,” the man said dismissively. “Infinity, world, eternity, those are concepts that are strength. Heaven, flowers, what is that? You can say many things about Blake, but a poet he was not!” he finished with a cheeky grin.

Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the joke, wondering how he’d ended up in an alternative universe where Fudge of all people was actually funny.

McGonaggal’s cough interrupted the comedic moment. “If the two of you are done reciting poetry at each other,” she said sarcastically.

Fudge clapped his hands together once. “Of course, of course. It’s just hard to find a student who appreciates the classics these days.” His gaze turned more serious as he looked Harry up and down. “Take it then,” he said in a low voice, before shaking his head. “Just don’t spin it.”

Harry didn’t need to be told twice and quickly snatched the time turner, holding the hot gold in his hand with a shaky grip. He clasped his hands together.

“That is not a toy, Mr Evans, and I hope you are aware of the privilege you have been granted,” the professor said. “There are rules. Strict rules. Rules that shall not be broken. This is not a matter of having your privilege rescinded, but a matter of expulsion. Am I clear?”

Harry nodded seriously. “Crystal, professor.” His hands stopped shaking.

She raised one finger. “Firstly, on the school side of things. You will not tell anyone about this. Anyone, not even a professor. Those who need to know do, those who don’t, won’t.” She raised her second finger. “Secondly, this time-turner will be used for attending classes and studying. Nothing else.” A third finger. “It does not leave Hogwarts grounds, ever.” A fourth finger. “If at any point the headmaster and I have a reasonable suspicion that you are misusing the artefact, it will be taken back. There will be no discussion if this happens.” She snapped her fingers and glared at him. “Gone.”

“I imagine I also have to keep the grades that merit such a privilege?” Harry asked.

“Of course. If you are seen to not be handling the pressure well, you will lose access to the time-turner and might also lose the advancements you made,” the professor said with a nod, before looking at Fudge with a doubtful look.

“I do know the magical rules, Minerva, don’t you worry,” the man said with a chuckle before turning to Harry. “Everything is in the manual,” he said first, before continuing. “But here’s the gist.” He pointed at the time-turner in Harry’s hands. “One spin is one hour. You have five extra hours per day. No more. The sand will be refilled twice. Once during winter break, once during spring break. The way time-turners work… Well, whatever happens cannot be changed. If you activate the time turner tonight to return to the after-lunch period, then you will be attending Potions and Transfiguration at the same time. If you go check the Potions classroom before you return, then you’ll find your future self attending class there. Don’t do that. You don’t want to see yourself. Ever.” His eyes turned more serious. “Am I understood?”

Harry nodded. “Of course. I’ll avoid myself at all costs.”

“Good. Find an isolated place to use it. A place you know was empty five hours ago. Confirm that, don’t leave it up to chance. Once per day! Five hours! It’ll explode, a defence mechanism. You won’t get a second. Use it to attend classes and catch up on studying. Assuming you use it every day. That’s 35 hours per week. Thirty-eight weeks of school, that’s 1330 extra hours. 55 days, minus a few since you’ll lose access during break. You’ll be one and a half months older than you should be; keep that in mind. You’ll need more food, more rest. Everything. I’d recommend taking a nap for two hours before every use and then a full night’s rest every night. All in the manual.” Fudge looked to the side, at the professor, who nodded with pursed lips.

“I think that’s it!” the man said happily.

Harry nodded slowly. There was a question flying around in his head, though, one he already somewhat knew the answer to, but one he wanted to ask regardless.

“Why, though?” he asked. “I’m grateful for the opportunity, but should magic like this be used in a school?” he asked.

McGonagall seemed happy with the question, while Fudge simply laughed.

“Boy, find me a place other than a school that works and then we’ll talk!” the man said while wiping a tear from his eyes. “The thing with time is, it partially occurs as it is perceived, so a time-turner needs to be used in a place with a lot of people for them to stamp the occurrence of events into the consciousness of the world. Second requirement, the user of the thing has to have some sort of regularity, some sort of schedule. Their surroundings do too, or else the thing gets confused, doesn’t work, gives weird results. Tentacles in your brain, that sort of stuff.”

Harry crossed his arms. So it was as he’d assumed. “Empty place in the desert, no chaos, but no people to imprint on the time-stream. Big city, too much chaos. Boarding school in the wilderness, regular schedule for everyone involved, a lot of imprint, low chaos.”

Fudge snapped his fingers. “Exactly!” He turned to McGonagall while pointing to Harry. “See, I told you he was smart!”

“He’s my student,” the woman told him while throwing the excited man an odd look.

“Semantics, he’ll be at the ministry soon enough, and then Uncle Fudge will show him the ropes!” 

“The ministry?” Harry asked rhetorically, before shaking his head. “I’m not sure they’d appreciate a half-blood like me.”

The minister glanced at his watch before abruptly standing up from his chair. It scraped on the stone floor in a grating manner. He looked at Harry with a deep gaze, almost too analytically.

“Things will be changing in this country,” the man said in a measured tone of voice. “Don’t worry about your parentage. There is no right or wrong ancestry. Only power and those foolish enough to judge its origin.” After dropping those words, he let a silly smile spread across his face and looked at McGonaggal, who seemed, if anything, shocked.

“A pleasure as always, Minerva, but duty calls!” he exclaimed before standing up and turning around and basically jumping into the fireplace, which only turned green when he was already halfway inside it.

The man was sucked in and disappeared, leaving the room emptier for it.

A beat of silence.

“The minister is…” Harry started slowly. “A lot.”

“Losing his wife,” McGonagall said stiffly. “I imagined it made him reevaluate. He wasn’t like this as a student.”

“Right,” Harry said. “The werewolf.”

“Don’t concern yourself with him,” the professor said dismissively. “He likely wants to be photographed with you in the winter or in the summer. Politician and prodigy, a tale as old as time.” She looked him up and down before raising a hand and shooing him off. “Off you go, get your breakfast,” she said.

Harry slowly nodded and took the manual from the table.

“Be careful, Harry,” the professor warned right as he was about to exit the office.

“Of what?” Harry asked.

“The world,” McGonaggall said philosophically before leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes.

There seemed to be something on her mind.

Harry closed the door and read the inscription on his new necklace.

“I mark the hours, every one, but don’t think that you’ll outrun the sun. Use me well, I’ll be your wing, but do me wrong and death I’ll bring.”

-/-

AN: Ominous...

On my original, another 100 follower milestone reached, chapters synchronised. If you like my writing, check my new RoyalRoad story: Re: Villain (to Hero)

Last one unfortunately