A/N: Welcome to another grand endeavor on my part to add and play with the world of Harry Potter.

Anything you recognize (characters, setting, etc.) belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything else is mine.

Please read and review.

Chapter One

Unsurprisingly for a busy Monday morning at the New Ministry of Magic the queue for the lifts was horribly long. It wound through the red ropes to the atrium and Floo stations. Every two minutes exactly a lift would open, two dozen people would go inside, and the doors would close. Then the line would shift forward and the process would repeat in one hundred and twelve seconds. Some people read The Daily Prophet while they waited, others chatted with co-workers about various affairs, and a few seemed half-asleep where they stood.

Althea Thatcher, upon emerging from the Floo, bypassed the end of the never-ending line and shuffled her way toward the stairs. Few, if any people, chose the stairs because it meant exercise and exercise meant effort and that was tiring. The only other people who willingly took the hard way were Aurors, used to physical exertion in the field. This Monday morning, with her copy of The Prophet folded under her arm, she began the long journey down into the bowels of the New Ministry.

Eighteen flights of stairs later, Althea opened the door marked "9" and walked out. At the same time another person exited the lift. Their eyes met, shifted for a moment to the side, and then they fell into step as they walked down the corridor. The black tiled walls reflected little of the light from the flickering globes, but Althea was used to squinting.

"Lovely weather today," the man said.

"Could be better, Rogers."

He opened the plain black door for her and she walked ahead. Pulling out their wands, the two pointed them at opposite doors and spoke. "Aperio."

She nodded at Rogers before walking into her own door and closing it behind her. As always, she was momentarily blinded by the glittering light from the bell jar in the corner. A small cabinet nearby held individual pieces of Time-Turners in compartments. It looked like there were only about seventy-five left to fix. She checked her reflection in a nearby grandfather clock, noticing faint wrinkles forming around her eyes, and frowned.

"Thatcher, is that you?"

A small part of her soul crinkled and puffed out of existence at the sound of Saul Croaker's voice. Taking a deep breath, she fixed her bag and walked down the hall toward her boss's office. She could see two people at their desks: one working on a Time-Turner, the other filling out a report. They nodded and she knocked once on the doorframe of Croaker's office before walking in.

"How can I help you, Mr. Croaker?"

"Today's the day, isn't it?"

"It sure is."

"Brought your paper?" She put The Daily Prophet down on his desk and waited. "Good, good. And what are you checking out?"

"Number three, sir."

"I thought Lewis had number three."

"He just finished up the International Warlock Convention a week ago. It's my turn again."

"How much more time on this project?" He picked up a cup of coffee (most likely mixed with a little Firewhisky) and took a sip. She wanted to roll her eyes and tell him to just look at the file, but she also knew that his divorce was making him quite snippy. Desk work was not something she wanted any part of it.

Not when what she was doing was much more important.

"Two more months, maybe three. I've just got the one left to observe."

"Saved the best for last?"

"I've just been putting it off."

"Who's helping you?"

She adjusted her bag. "Thompkins was supposed to, but she called in sick."

"I'll take care of it then. Why don't you go get changed and I'll grab number three from the vault."

"Thanks, Mr. Croaker."

She made her way to the women's locker rooms and changed out of her street clothes and into the uniform. Putting the rucksack into her locker, she grabbed her pouch and started transferring things into it: food, water, a knife, and the basic things needed to survive for a month. Althea tied up her hair, put her wand in its holster, and walked out.

Croaker was waiting by the Portal. They'd named it that simply because it was where people came and went, and not because it actually went anywhere. The Portal didn't do the transporting. That was the Time-Turner's job.

Althea nodded and grabbed the golden orb from his hand. "Thirty days."

"See you in a month."

She began to turn the small intricate pieces of the Time-Turner and could feel the tingling begin. It started with her toes and crawled up her body before grabbing her by the belly-button and tearing her apart.

Most witches and wizards thought time travel was a piece of cake, something that the Ministry kept to itself because of what happened with Eloise Mintumble, but they were wrong. Time travel was a bitch. It felt like every cell of Althea's body was being ripped apart and put together all at once and she counted the seconds. The average trip took approximately one minute and forty-two seconds.

There were only five seconds left.

She could feel her hair falling out and growing once again.

Four seconds.

Her nails dropped off one by one.

Three seconds.

Blood dripped out of her nose and eyes.

Two seconds.

Her body was on fire.

One second.

Althea's body dropped to the cold, wet ground. She lay there, shivering and convulsing for a few moments before dry heaving onto the grass. There was a reason she never ate breakfast before traveling. Then, looking around, she made sure that no one was near before pulling out her Cloak and covering up. It was the first day after Easter holidays and she could see the carriages making their way toward the castle. There weren't as many students compared to current day, but she waited until they were all inside the gates before making her way onto the grounds.

She'd studied wards and shielding charms for years before she'd even been allowed to attempt this assignment. Not being able to access the location would have been a serious hindrance to her study. So when Althea reached the barrier between the outside world and the inside she took out her wand, touched the tip to the glow, and passed through. Part of the reason she was able to bypass the wards was probably because she was a student—at least in the future—and that meant she fit the basic criteria.

The students stepped out of the carriages and she made a few quick notes on some of the more noteworthy students. It appeared that the young Lady had a new gown and she was making eyes at the Baron. That was a minor history she'd been keeping track of, but it wasn't her main assignment. No, that was more important. Althea made sure her Time-Turner was secure and clasped her Cloak tighter.

Rule #1 of the Timekeeper's Code: Remain unseen at all times.

She made her way down the ridge and found one of the many secret entrances into the castle. Then, carefully making her way through the corridors, she arrived at the Great Hall and stepped into the feast. The tables were small versions of what they would later be, but the divide was still obvious. Hufflepuff at the far left, Gryffindor next to them, then Ravenclaw, and finally Slytherin on the far right. It was different than when she'd attended, and she still hadn't found out if there was a reason behind the layout or not.

She leaned against the wall and looked up at the Professors' Table. It wasn't known as that in this period, instead referred to as the Masters' Platform, but she thought that sounded as pompous as many of the people who sat at it. There were only four professors who each taught one subject, but that was acceptable and expected for the beginning years of what would later be one of the most respected academies in the wizarding world. They were the founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry after all.

Althea had already studied three of them, but there was one left and she wasn't looking forward to it. She'd started with her own founder—Rowena Ravenclaw—and hadn't been too surprised by the academically-oriented and wise woman. The fact that she spent her free time inventing potions and taking little credit for her creations was novel-worthy as was her hobby of collecting muggle pottery. Her dark hair was tied up and out of her face as she drank from a goblet and looked down at her table and crop of students.

Then came Helena Hufflepuff, the most different from Althea's assumptions so far, and she still wasn't sure why the plump, friendly witch of her era didn't match up with the Valkyrie goddess in front of her. There was something decidedly unfriendly about the sword-wielding sorceress as she barked out Transfiguration lessons and turned the occasional troublemaker into a rodent. Her hand was clasped around a turkey leg as she tossed her blonde braid over her shoulder. Althea held back an involuntary shiver.

The most boring and stereotypical of the founders so far was Godric Gryffindor. He pretty much went around looking for challenges, defeating enemies, and protecting the school from muggles. The only odd thing she'd noticed was how warm and affectionate he was toward the final founder, completely at odds with what everyone assumed.

Salazar Slytherin, her last person to investigate, seemed an enigma. In her first month on the assignment she'd assumed that he wasn't who he said he was and the real Slytherin was going to storm into the castle and kill him. The portrait in current-day Hogwarts showed a bald, cruel-looking man who sneered at everyone that passed by. The professor claiming his name and title in this time had shoulder-length dark hair, a pointed face, and eyes that she often thought could see through her invisibility. He was definitely intelligent, and several of the improvements to the castle had been his ideas, but she didn't understand how the unthreatening man that sat before her was the same one that created a legacy of muggle-born hatred.

There were only sixty-two students total and the Houses weren't even, but that didn't seem to bother the founders any. Gryffindor had the most students, followed closely by Ravenclaw and Slytherin, and Hufflepuff only had fifteen total. Despite the 'lax' standards of the badger house somehow no one measured up to Helena's battle-ready mentality. The students were eating barley, bacon, leeks, bread and butter, cheese, fish, pheasant, and other locally-sourced foods, but they didn't compare to modern food which was probably why Althea brought most of her food with her.

There was a loud clanging as Gryffindor banged his sword on the platform and rose from his seat. "Welcome back, welcome back. I hope you all enjoyed your holiday, but it's back to work and business. Let's have a toast for good fortune and health!"

There was a loud cheer as students drank and then, of course, Helena had to make an even more grand display and set one of the banners on fire and challenge students to extinguish it. Luckily one of Slytherin's students made quick work of it and the whole affair was over. The feast was over, class would resume the next day, and Althea was officially on duty with her investigation of Salazar Slytherin.

He led his students down into the dungeons, and she was surprised when he followed them into the common room instead of going toward his own quarters. The students sat in chairs and couches as if they were waiting for something. Was she about to hear a Salazar Slytherin hate speech? Was this the beginnings of anti-muggle-born sentiment? Althea managed to find an empty chair she was sure no one would try to sit on and waited with building anticipation.

The common room was different from current day, but that was to be expected. Hogwarts refreshed its design every couple of centuries to keep with the times. There was still a gorgeous view of the depths of the lake, which cast a greenish tint to the walls and furniture, and the whole room was decked in shades of emerald and silver. Slytherin took the largest armchair for himself and lit a fire in the grate.

"How was everyone's holiday?" His voice was melodious and managed to convey both a sense of honesty and wisdom that she wouldn't have expected; the Slytherin portrait's voice was like nails on a chalkboard most of the time. "What did we learn?"

"I learned how to make a healing potion," a small, dark-haired girl said. "Although it took a couple of times to get it right."

"And that's admirable. Very rarely does a person get anything right on the first try," he said. "It takes hard work, patience, dedication, and ambition to succeed at anything. Talent only gets you so far."

"Are you referring to Master Gryffindor, sir?"

"Not at all, young Pratt. I'm simply making an observation. What did you do with all of your free time?"

"Oh, I, uh, wrote a lot."

"Of an academic nature?"

"Not exactly."

"He was wooing again!" a blonde said.

"I was not!"

"Probably going to propose any day now."

"I'll hex you if you don't shut up!"

"Hush," Slytherin said, raising a hand. Althea noticed a single onyx ring on one of his fingers and wondered if he had a secret wife that history had ignored. That would be the mother load of historical discoveries. "Fighting for honor is one thing, but fighting just to make a point is another. Besides we are a House united, and we will not let petty squabbles bring us down. There is a cup to win after all."

"Do you really think we have a chance?"

"But Gryffindor's house is winning!"

"We can do it."

It seemed that every student in the room drew inspiration and strength from their Head, and she wondered what it was about him that made them so willing to believe every word he said. Was this how it started? Kind words and affirmations were one thing, but creating a sect within wizarding society was another. Something wasn't adding up. If the man in the portrait really was the man in front of her then how did he come to get that way? What happened that made him into a scarred and bitter tyrant?

There wasn't much time left to find out. She knew that Salazar Slytherin would disappear from Hogwarts in the near future for unknown, but presumed reasons. He would get into an argument with Gryffindor about the admittance standards of Hogwarts; they'd disagree, duel, and separate. The school would never be the same.

Slytherin and the students chatted about holidays, the house cup, and the importance of studying for close to an hour. Other than noting some speech patterns of interest there wasn't much for historical documentation. She almost dozed off at one point, lulled to rest by the warm fire, the gentle glow from the lake, and the soothing tones of his voice. Althea was brought back to immediate attention by the feeling of being watched.

When she looked up from her notes and doodles, Salazar Slytherin was looking in her direction. The way his glacier-blue eyes gazed made her feel naked, and she had to take a deep breath and remind herself that she was invisible. Her Cloak was powerful, descended from the Hallow itself, and that meant she was protected from death, visibility, and powerful ancient sorcerers. Still there was a disconcerting notion that he knew she was there.

The night finished up quickly after that and she followed him as quietly as possibly to his quarters. She still hadn't figured out whether he'd created the Chamber of Secrets yet, but looked forward to seeing it for herself and not just reading about it. After he went through the private wards—which even she dared not breech—she exited the castle through a different passageway and set up camp in the forest.

Her tent was Disillusioned and she made a quick dinner of instant noodles. The hardest part of missions wasn't keeping quiet and unseen, it was the moments where there was nothing to do but wait for her subjects to do something. She checked her supplies, double-checked the Time-Turner, and rewrote her notes minus the doodles. Croaker would have her neck if he found drawings of him in the official records, especially the unflattering ones.

So far her research on the founders of Hogwarts had yielded interesting results. Rowena Ravenclaw seemed to know more than she let on, Helga Hufflepuff was not the pushover creampuff she was presumed to be, Godric Gryffindor was more bloodthirsty than brave, and Salazar Slytherin was a decent person who hadn't said one word against muggles since she'd been watching them.

The only time she wasn't able to listen in or observe was when they entered their private quarters and in the founders' meetings amongst themselves in the Head office. Since they all shared power equally there wasn't much need of a Headmaster's study, and it instead seemed to serve as a place for discussion of higher issues. Issues she wasn't privy to. Issues she wanted to know. If there was some grand secret behind the creation of Hogwarts she wanted to be the first to discover it.

No matter what the cost.