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batsutousaiTitle: Gelosaþ in Écnesse
Chapter: 2 of 18
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Teen
Pairings: Harry/Salazar, Harry/OFC (Original Female Character)
Warnings: OCs, OoC, original character death, minor cliché-age, homophobia, racist actions and slurs (from secondary character), time travel
Summary: Caught in the backlash of Voldemort's Killing Curse, Harry is thrown through time to a world so very different from his own.
A/N: One of these days, Jo will tell us how Occlumency actually works, and I will no longer be able to make random shit up about it. Alas.
So, bit of a conflict, I realised, when I went to research a couple things. According to what little evidence we have for when Arthur et al. existed, it was during the late 5th/early 6th centuries. According to Pottermore's Slytherin House welcoming message, Merlin was in that House. According to my timeline for this fic, Hogwarts was started in the early 8th century (Jo has yet to tell us different).
See the problem?
Considering everything here is fantasy and I can do what I want, I'm deciding to move Arthur and Merlin and their lot to being active in the 9th century. So Merlin was still in Slytherin and no one currently knows who he is. XD
Layers of Harmony
-0-0-
Salazar was already up and working with his cauldrons when Harry woke. Harry crept from his cot and made a quick stop in the privy before returning to his tiny prison, resisting the urge to wander the tent; being given a reason why he needed to stay in the cot helped, but Harry had never claimed to be a particularly still person. His lips quirked with a sad smile when the image of Ron's reaction to being in similar circumstances came to mind; if Harry was having trouble remaining still, no doubt Ron would be trying to sneak from the cot every three minutes, assuming he hadn't insulted Salazar into cursing him to sleep out the duration of his bed rest.
With a silent sigh, Harry closed his eyes and focussed on the sound of phoenix song, finding it helped calm his thoughts better than any other image or sound he'd focussed on over the past day. There was a slight sense of fear at the sound of the gentle trill – Harry wouldn't soon forget the way it had changed in the cage with Voldemort – but he shoved it out with his other thoughts and wrapped the sound around him.
Salazar roused him some time later, holding out a bowl of more soup. "Isn't there something else easy on the stomach I can have?" Harry complained good-naturedly as he resettled himself on his cot with the bowl.
"Probably, but I'm not a cook," Salazar admitted, "that's Helga's forte." He waited for Harry to take a few sips before adding, "Anyway, it's easy to slip potions into soup."
Harry paused, spoon held uncertainly in front of his mouth. He looked at the innocent liquid in the curved metal for a moment, debating his options. Eventually, he brought it to his mouth, figuring he'd already had enough of the soup that refusing the rest wouldn't save him from any potions. Anyway, Salazar would hardly poison him after he spent five days nursing Harry back to health. Still: "What potions am I still on?" he asked with the wisdom of one who'd spent more than enough time under the care of a medic.
Salazar's lips twitched with amusement. "A nutrition potion, a potion to help your body clear the foreign magic, and a mild pain potion."
Harry flexed his back without really intending to and said, "You told me my back was healed."
"It is," Salazar assured him, "but after the trouble that the magic trapped in the burns gave me, I'm not about to take any chances. If something happens, I'd rather you not let me know by screaming."
"I wouldn't," Harry said with such certainty that Salazar wanted to hurt the boy's attacker. "I appreciate the sentiment all the same, however."
"Hm."
Harry had a few more spoonfuls of his soup before saying, "You know a lot about healing magic, then?"
Salazar shrugged. "My second master – the second man I apprenticed under," he clarified upon seeing Harry's faint frown, "was a healer. Probably the best of our century. I don't have his genius in diagnosing symptoms, and non-magical medicine is largely beyond me, but I get by well enough."
"I'd have thought Huf–Helga the healer," Harry admitted.
Salazar smiled faintly. "I suppose she's more the type. She does have some knowledge of magical medicine, but it was all learned in passing or from me since we met; she never studied it herself. No, Helga chose to focus on food. She's a most excellent cook, and has created more than her fair-share of charms for use in a kitchen."
Harry looked down at his mostly empty bowl and commented, "I can't wait to meet her."
Salazar snorted. "Speaking of meeting the others..." He leaned forward, bowl set next to his stool. "Not to say I'm upset with you for it, but why didn't you tell Godric the truth of the wizard that hurt you?"
In all honesty, it hadn't been something Harry had thought about during the event, but he didn't have to think too hard to know why he'd lied. "Because I rather like the idea of spending my final years at Hogwarts without standing out."
Salazar raised an eyebrow at that. "Indeed?"
Harry sighed and held out his bowl for Salazar to put to the side. "At home, I survived an attack, as a baby, from...well..." He motioned to his back and Salazar offered a grim smile. "Him. Anyway, I was a bit well-known for it. And I, well, I got a bit tired of it, especially with everything that happened this year." He looked away, sick at the memories of the the 'Potter Stinks' buttons and Ron refusing to talk to him. "I don't want people to look at me and expect miracles," he whispered.
Salazar's heart broke and he shifted onto the cot to slip an arm around the boy's shoulders. Harry seemed uncertain, for a moment, about how to react to the offered comfort, but then he leaned his head on the man's shoulder and let out a quiet sigh.
Salazar held his silence for a long few minutes, simply offering unconditional support, then he commented, "I would have suggested you refrain from telling the others of your travel through time before we left for Hogwarts, myself."
Harry peered up at the Founder's profile from behind his bangs. "Why?" he wondered.
Salazar grimaced. "Please don't think I distrust them," he requested and Harry shrugged. "It's...complicated. Godric... Godric is a wonderful, supportive man, but he is also quite stuck in his ways; I very much doubt he would take to the concept of such a leap of time travel well. Rowena is forever questioning everything, and while it makes for some engaging conversations, it can try on ones nerves, especially when she is asking questions you don't have an answer to or that you really have no interest in answering." He smiled tiredly in remembrance. "She once brought me a snake and demanded I ask it questions about its basic bodily functions, with no thought for my or the snake's feelings in the matter. It was...awkward."
Harry laughed. "I'll endeavour to not catch her eye. Ever," he decided.
"A most wise choice," Salazar agreed. "Helga... You could probably tell Helga of your time travel with no change as to how she'd treat you, beyond an added bit of mothering. Though, considering how hurt you were when I found you, you'll likely suffer that anyway. I only caution against telling Helga because she'd want to tell the other two – she doesn't like leaving them in the dark – and it will take a great deal of effort to convince her to hold her tongue."
Harry considered that for a moment before asking, "Are any of them Legilimens?"
"Rowena has a passing acquaintance with the subject," Salazar replied with a wry smile, "as she does with everything, but she is, by no means, a master of the art. All of them are capable Occlumens – I saw to that first thing – but Rowena was the only one who'd ever had any interest in learning Legilimency. Rowena's husband and Godric's wife are also Occlumens – Helga's husband is non-magical – but none of them cared for the art of Legilimency. It is, I believe, too invasive for their delicate sensibilities."
"I can understand that," Harry admitted. "I would be leery of ever using Legilimency on someone, but surely it could be a useful skill to have?"
"It does make deciding who to trust simpler," Slytherin agreed drily and Harry hid a smile against the man's shoulder. "My first master, who taught me the skill, would often use it to communicate points to me without using words. It made learning particularly difficult concepts simpler, but, as a result, I often find myself without the words to explain such concepts to others."
"You couldn't use the same process? Give it to them via Legilimency?" Harry wondered.
"It's quite a bit more difficult than that," Salazar replied. "I could only pass knowledge with Legilimency to someone studied in Occlumency, which is not as common as it, perhaps, should be. Complicating matters further, if the recipient needed something clarified, they might lack the spoken language to ask for that clarification."
Harry grimaced. "Okay, yes, I can see that. But, why would your master teach you in such a way, considering the difficulties?"
"I never asked him," Salazar admitted. "I can only assume he was taught in a similar fashion. That, or he simply preferred not to put his research in the spoken word any more than he wished to put it in writing. I wouldn't be surprised by the latter; he was very much a paranoid man."
"What was he researching?" Harry asked, curious.
"Alchemy."
"Oh." Harry scratched the back of his head. "I suppose that makes sense."
Salazar gave a surprised laugh. "You have knowledge of alchemy, then? Is it common, in your time?"
Harry shook his head. "No, not in the least. I don't think it's even offered at Hogwarts, though I suppose that could be a lie, since Prof– uhm, the Headmaster studied it. I know someone finally managed to make the Philosopher's Stone."
Salazar smiled. "An accomplishment," he allowed. "Not the focus of my own research, but one I can appreciate, none-the-less."
"What is the focus of your research, then?" Harry asked.
But Salazar shook his head and slid off the cot. "Perhaps another time. Spend a couple hours on Occlumency and I'll rouse you for lunch."
Harry sighed. "Okay," he agreed and settled himself more comfortably before closing his eyes and bringing to mind the phoenix song.
This set the pace for the next couple days. Harry would spend most of the day focussing on Occlumency. During meals, he would attempt to get more from Salazar about alchemy and, upon failing, would ask about something else. Salazar seemed to quite like speaking of healing magic and Harry, with his ability to attract trouble, was interested to learn what he could.
On the third day since Godric's visit, when Salazar roused Harry for lunch, the boy felt strangely clear-headed.
"Oh?" Salazar said without Harry having to say anything. "You've done it."
"You sound surprised," Harry commented as he took his bowl.
"There's a preferred age-range for learning Occlumency, and you're technically a bit too young for it," Salazar explained, having since learnt Harry was fourteen. "I figured, if nothing else, I could at least get you started on learning it." He snorted a bit self-deprecatingly. "I shouldn't be surprised; I can't pretend to know what things you've been through, but the mind arts are based, first and foremost, on mental maturity, rather than the physical, and to survive a wizard regularly making attempts on your life requires one to grow up a bit quicker than on average."
Harry felt a well of sorrow, though it was distant. It was accompanied by a brush of memory – trying to reach the hob when he was four to cook breakfast, Vernon standing behind him with violence in his eyes – and Harry let out a sigh. "I suppose so," he agreed.
"The next step of Occlumency," Salazar said, "is to create a protection for your thoughts. A wall, for example, behind which you can do your thinking and keep your memories. On – or in front of – that wall, you'll want some sort of offensive; a spell you can use to push intruders back and away before they can attempt to break through your protections."
Harry nodded and spent lunch considering what to make his wall of and how to protect it. Once Salazar had taken his bowl away, Harry closed his eyes and tried a few options, using things like stone or iron to build a wall around himself, but none of them seemed quite right. He tried diamond – it was the hardest substance known to man – but it was a bit too see-through for his purposes.
Over dinner – more soup; Harry was almost to the point where he got up and demanded Salazar let him cook – Harry asked, "What's your wall built of?"
"My wall?" Salazar sipped at his soup for a moment, then said, "Stone. I suppose it looks rather a bit like the Hogwarts walls. I defended it with snakes and banishing charms."
Harry frowned in thought. It seemed so simple, but wasn't simple good?
"Do you have a favourite animal? Or spell?" Salazar asked.
Harry blinked, then nodded. "Spell, yeah."
"Use that for the defence."
"Oh." Harry played with his soup a bit, considering his choices. "I can guess why you'd use snakes, but why use an animal at all?" he wondered.
"Just in case someone slips past the charms," Salazar replied with a shrug. "Nothing wrong with an extra defence." He paused while Harry considered that, then asked, "Do you have a favourite animal?"
Harry blinked and considered that. 'A favourite animal? Well, I love Hedwig, and there's my stag patronus, but I don't know that I really favour either of them over other animals. And I don't mind snakes, but I don’t really like them. Uhm...' Phoenix song trilled in the back of Harry's mind and he realised he was smiling. "Oh. Phoenixes, I guess."
Salazar raised an eyebrow at that. "Indeed? You've met one?"
Harry nodded. "Prof– the Headmaster had a phoenix, Fawkes. He saved my life, once."
Salazar smiled wistfully. "I have never even seen a phoenix from a distance. It's said that those who make the acquaintance of a phoenix will have long, full lives."
"Well, I don't know about the long bit," Harry commented drily, "but my life has certainly been full of exciting happenings."
Salazar chuckled. "Indeed." He held out a hand for Harry's bowl, which the boy handed over. "Shall I leave you to your wall building?"
"Yes, I suppose," Harry agreed. He closed his eyes for a moment, then popped them back open and asked, "Salazar?"
"Yes?"
"How much longer before we can make our trip to Hogwarts?"
Salazar considered that for a moment, then set the bowls on a short table, next to the cauldron of soup, and started back over. "May I see your back?"
Harry turned and pulled the tunic over his head, giving the Founder easy access to the scars on his back.
After a moment of considering his findings, Salazar decided, "We can probably go tomorrow, after lunch. There's a hint of the magic left, and it shouldn't react too badly with the portkey at its current levels, but I'd rather give it a few more hours."
Harry nodded and pulled his tunic back on, then pleaded, "Can't we go before lunch?"
Salazar chuckled. "We'll see," he decided before returning to the bowls.
Harry sighed and closed his eyes again, visualising the wall he'd already created. It was still diamond and he did like the idea of making it out of material that was difficult to damage. 'Just in case,' he thought, remembering Salazar's reasoning for the snakes. But he still didn't like that it was see-through, even if it would be nice to observe any opponents from behind his wa...ll...
'Oh. One-way glass. They'd see an image of themselves and I can watch what they're up to,' Harry thought as he added the glass behind the diamond. He considered it for a moment, then picked spots where the disarming charm would be shot at any intruders.
By the time it was done, Harry was plenty tired, so he turned in for the night.
"No nightmares?" Salazar asked the next morning, once Harry had finished in the privy.
Harry glanced towards his cot, then shook his head and joined Salazar over by the cauldron of soup. "No," he agreed, ignoring Salazar's knowing look at his refusal to return to the cot. "How'd you guess? The Occlumency?"
"Occlumency does help hold nightmares at bay, to some extent," Salazar agreed, handing over a bowl of soup. "It is, in essence, the act of cleaning up the useless thoughts that come to you at random moments and ordering your thoughts and memories into a more organised fashion."
"There was no ordering or organising going on," Harry pointed out. "Some focussing on phoenix song and some imaginary wall creation, but no organising."
"Phoenix song?" Salazar asked, amused.
"It's soothing," Harry muttered.
"Indeed," Salazar agreed, summoning over two stools for them to sit on. Once they were settled, he explained, "The organisation took place on its own, while you focussed all your attention on that one thing. Your unconscious mind sorts memories and thoughts all the time without any input from your conscious thoughts. Most of that sorting is done while you're sleeping, as your unconscious mind has free reign then, but you're still thinking, even when you sleep. The act of focussing on a single thing gives your unconscious mind the freedom to organise without extra thoughts popping up and disrupting things."
"I'll have to keep focussing my thoughts, though, to keep it organised, won't I?" Harry asked.
Salazar nodded. "Indeed. Most Occlumens find it easiest to set an hour or so to the side directly before going to bed, during which they can focus their thoughts. Some, such as myself, choose to do so just after waking. My first master spent an hour every afternoon standing over his latest alchemy project and turning a single idea or concept over in his thoughts while his mind organised itself; sometimes, when he came out of it, he would have a solution to a problem, sometimes he wouldn't. I believe Helga focuses her thoughts in the kitchen, while making whatever her latest creation is, and Godric usually does his focussing while practising his swordcraft."
Harry nodded and thought about his options for a few swallows before asking, "How does it help with nightmares, though?"
"Nightmares can be born of a stray thought, a problem you're turning over and over in your head, an ingrained fear, or a memory. Your subconscious sorts these things according to a design particular to each person, but one category will always be closer to the surface than the others, and those thoughts and memories will be the most likely to feed your dreams. If something sorted near the top of that category is capable of forming a nightmare, you will have one. However, most people's unconscious minds tend to sort unpleasant, nightmare inducing thoughts and memories deeper into the categories, to protect your sleep – and its work – from disruption, so a person practising Occlumency is usually less likely to suffer from nightmares than someone who doesn't."
"Huh," was Harry's response.
Once they'd finished their soup, Salazar said, "I'd like to check your back again."
"Oh, sure," Harry agreed and awkwardly raised his tunic to give the older wizard access.
Salazar ran his spells, then nodded and offered, "We should be fine to head back before lunch."
"Thank Merlin," Harry breathed.
Salazar snorted and grabbed the bowls to clean. "You will need to take more care at Hogwarts," he added.
Harry looked up from where he'd been playing with Salazar's empty potion vials. "How so?"
"This 'Merlin' you are forever speaking of does not exist."
Harry stared for a long moment, then dropped his head into his hands, switching to English to curse.
Salazar shook his head at the boy, but the use of another language reminded him of another task they'd need to see to before heading to Hogwarts: "I'll have to hit you with the Translator's Charm again."
Harry looked up, watching Salazar through his bangs. "Translator's– Oh." His mind made the connections between the name and the spell Salazar had used when they first met to enable Harry to understand him. "That's right. You said that when you and the others met, you and Godric were the only ones with a common language."
Salazar nodded. "Helga's native language is Welsh, while Rowena's is Pictish. For the most part, Rowena endeavours to speak in Englisc, but Helga still prefers Welsh, unless she's speaking to someone who only speaks another language. I'll teach you Welsh before we leave, and you can ask someone tomorrow to teach you Pictish, if you're interested in learning it."
Harry nodded. "Yes, I might do that. Nothing wrong with knowing a couple languages, in case I need them in future, right?"
"That was my thought, as well," Salazar admitted. "If that's your wish, you may also wish to learn Gaelic. There are different dialects – I believe Rowena knows all of them – but you would be able to get by with only knowing one."
Harry nodded again and they both fell silent while Salazar set about getting the tent ready to pack up. Once everything was sufficiently prepared, he transfigured some shoes, a cloak, and a belt for Harry, then cast the Translator's Charm to teach him Welsh.
'Okay, that's just weird,' Harry decided as Salazar waved him out of the tent. His mind was helpfully translating things he saw into Welsh, which all made perfect sense. For some reason. 'I'm going to have such a headache...'
Once they were both out, Salazar tapped the side of the tent and it cheerfully folded itself up to about the size of a handkerchief, which Salazar stuffed in a pouch on his belt. "Now, then..." he murmured, looking around the small clearing they'd been camped in. "Excellent." He picked up a fallen branch and held it out towards Harry. "Have you taken a portkey before?" he asked.
Harry grimaced. "A few of them, yeah," he agreed, taking the other end of the branch and tightening his grip more than he probably needed to.
"Good." When Harry looked at him curiously, he explained, "I'm more than a little tired of explaining them to prospective students and their parents. Now, hold on. Portus."
Harry closed his eyes, grimacing at the sensation of being pulled across hundreds of miles in an instant. When they landed, he stumbled, but Salazar caught him before he could land on his behind. "Thanks," he murmured as the older wizard tossed the branch away.
Salazar shrugged. "It took me four years to manage to always land on my feet," he admitted and Harry smiled. "I believe you're familiar with her already, but if you turn around..."
Harry spun around and felt an indescribable sense of joy and homecoming as he caught sight of the building looming behind him. "Hogwarts," he breathed, not even caring as his voice caught. He'd resigned himself to never getting home, forgetting that there was a version of his home in this time, for all that the people were different.
Salazar touched his shoulder. "Come," he ordered and Harry fell into step with him, smiling.
A young boy was in the entrance hall when Salazar pushed open one of the doors, and he stared for a long moment before turning and running into the Great Hall, shouting, "Sal's back! Papa, Sal's back!"
"Kenric, Godric's son," Salazar offered as they let the door they'd cracked open fall shut behind them.
Harry sighed and straightened just as a group of adults, followed by Kenric and another boy, stepped from the Great Hall. Godric was in the lead and he flashed them both a smile before focussing on Harry. "So, the snake finally let you free of his coils?"
"Something like that," Harry agreed drily.
Next to Harry, Salazar hissed, :How about I coil a tail right up your arse, you fool lion.:
Harry was saved from trying not to laugh – being a secret Parselmouth could be nothing but good while hanging around with Salazar Slytherin – by Godric grabbing him gently about the shoulders and bringing him forward to the rest of the adults that had filtered from the Great Hall. "Everyone," he boomed from distressingly high above Harry's head, "this is Harry Potter."
"You'll burst the child's eardrums, shouting next to his ear like that," a plump woman with blonde hair in a messy bun at the nape of her neck chastised, stepping forward to draw Harry away from Godric.
"He'd need to be a bit taller for me to shout in his ear," Godric replied tartly.
"Inside voices, Godric," a woman with long brown hair worn in a braid down her back ordered, taking the tall Founder's arm. Godric looked properly chastised.
The woman who'd rescued Harry smiled at him and said, "I'm Helga, by the way. Helga Hufflepuff. And the vision on Godric's arm is Bernia, his wife."
"Hello, dear," Bernia greeted and Harry smiled at her.
Helga drew his attention to where the other four adults stood. "This gentle soul," she said of a man with short-cropped brown hair and a slightly rounded form, "is my husband, Roscoe."
"Hello, Harry," Roscoe greeted in a deep voice.
Harry managed a smile before a woman nearly as tall as Godric stepped forward with sharp eyes. "Rowena Ravenclaw," she informed him, a warmth in her bright eyes making up for the chill of her voice.
"This is Holden Ravenclaw," Helga continued without missing a beat, pointing to the slightly shorter man at Rowena's side. "And this–"
"Torrance Ollivander!" Salazar exclaimed, having finally finished muttering to himself and moved around Godric and Bernia to see.
The young man – he couldn't have been more than twenty-five, Harry guessed – smiled, eyes that same eerie silver as the Ollivander of the future. "Hello, Salazar. Found a phoenix, yet?"
"No," Salazar replied, sounding more than a little petulant.
"A phoenix?" Harry wondered, looking back at his sole companion for the past few days.
"Salazar has made it his life's goal to meet a phoenix," Helga explained with a fond smile at the green-clad Founder. "His wand core is a phoenix's tail feather, you see."
"Be silent, woman," Salazar ordered before turning to Ollivander again. "Torrance, Harry requires a wand. His old one..." He trailed off and blinked a few times before turning to look at Harry. "Well..."
"It's gone," Harry offered quietly, uncertain if his wand had even managed to survive his last meeting with Voldemort in one piece. Not that it mattered, now.
Ollivander turned eerie eyes on Harry and looked him over, then crooked a finger for Harry to follow him before turning and vanishing into the Great Hall.
"Go on," Helga whispered, pushing Harry forward a few steps.
Harry nodded and followed after the wandmaker, hearing Godric explain behind him, "He's intending to stay with us until the snows have passed, end of winter, so he'll be here to help any students without a wand."
"And replace any they inadvertently break," Salazar snarked in return.
Harry slipped past the half-opened doors of the Great Hall and walked over to the corner Ollivander had set up something of a shop in. "Sit," he ordered, pointing at a chair, and Harry did so. "You've had a wand before, then?"
"Uhm, yes, sir," Harry agreed, tugging on the edge of his tunic. "Holy and phoenix feather."
Ollivander gave him a sharp look, then turned to shuffle through wand boxes. "Wands with phoenix feather cores are rare," he commented, "almost as rare as phoenixes themselves." When Harry made no response to that, Ollivander looked back and smiled at his distrustful frown. "You're very like Salazar, young Harry," he said.
"Is that a bad thing, then?" Harry demanded.
"Depends on who you ask, doesn't it?" Ollivander replied before picking out a box and walking over to Harry. Before he opened the box, he said, "There are stories about those who wield phoenix feather wands." Then he held out the opened box, within which rested a pale grey wand.
Harry stared down at the wand for a moment before slipping his hand under the handle and picking it up. He gave it a flick, half expecting it to break something – as so many of the first wands he tried had done – but it only filled the air with a song of peace, one that Harry well knew. "Phoenix feather?" Harry guessed.
Ollivander smiled. "Eleven inches, ash, and with the tail feather of a most unusual phoenix."
"What was that song?" Salazar enquired, suddenly at Harry's shoulder.
"Phoenix song," Harry explained, looking up at the man. "Why?"
"I heard it, just before I found you."
Harry raised an eyebrow at that before looking down at his wand, thinking that would make sense; Salazar had seen a gold light, he'd said, like the light of the cage that had nearly killed Harry. And that cage had been filled with phoenix song.
"Perhaps it was a phoenix that brought you together," Ollivander suggested, "knowing that young Harry needed help that could only be offered by yourself."
"Maybe," Harry agreed before Salazar could find a way to refute that. "Thanks, Mr Ollivander."
"Don't go losing that one, boy," Ollivander ordered, putting the empty box away.
"Not a chance," Harry swore, holding it against his chest. He hadn't realised how much he'd come to depend on his wand until it had vanished, never to be seen again.
"Come along," Salazar cut in, touching Harry's shoulder. "I believe you were promised some of Helga's cooking."
"As long as it's not soup," Harry agreed, allowing himself to be led from Ollivander's corner. While Salazar was chuckling, Harry considered his options for where to put his new wand and found none of them particularly good, as he lacked pockets in the transfigured clothing. He was just about to ask Salazar for ideas when a leather bracer was dangled in front of him. Harry stopped and looked over his shoulder to find a grinning Godric.
"I figured you could use one of these," Godric offered, holding out the bracer. A similar one with a lion head carved on it was worn on his right arm.
"I– Thank you, I think?" Harry said, taking the gift.
"Never used one before?" Godric guessed. When Harry nodded, he sighed and said, "No wonder you lost your wand."
"There were extenuating circumstances!" Harry snapped.
Godric's expression darkened for a moment before he forced a pained smile. "I know. I apologise, Harry. Here, let me show you..." He took a moment to show Harry how to position and lace the bracer one-handed, then pointed out the magically expanded pocket that was just the right size for his new wand. Once it had vanished inside, he directed, "Now, flex your hand, like that, yes. Close it to how you normally hold your wand."
Harry closed his hand around thin air and, like magic, his wand was resting between his fingers. "Bloody– That's brilliant!" he declared, grinning up at the Founder.
"Why thank you," Godric said, preening a bit.
"It's probably the only spell he'll ever make," Salazar commented drily. "At least, the only useful one."
"Don't be a git," Harry ordered.
"What's a 'git'?" Godric asked, not the least bit fazed by Salazar's insult.
"Someone who needs their head shoved in the privy," Harry replied.
Salazar and Godric both stared at him in disbelief for a moment before Godric let out a roar of laughter. "Gods save us all," Salazar muttered, grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him towards the table everyone was sitting around. "He'll be calling every one of us that for the next month."
"Whoops," Harry replied, unapologetic. "Did you have to be so rude to him?"
"I'm rude to everyone," Salazar snapped. "Do you mind?"
Harry tugged his arm from the older wizard. "That's the first time you've been rude to me," he informed him before turning and stalking off to sit in an open seat next to Helga.
The happy woman smiled at him, then sighed when she recognised the figurative storm cloud over his head. "Salazar being difficult?" she suggested.
Harry let out an aggravated sound. "Yes. What is it with him? He was just fine before we got here, but now he's being a right arse."
Helga smiled and patted his knee. "I can't explain Salazar to you, dear. I do know, however, that he's always at his most difficult when Godric's showing off."
"What, is he jealous because Godric can enchant leather?" Harry muttered.
"You sound just like him," Helga said and Harry grimaced.
The boy that Harry had noticed following the adults out into the entrance hall with Godric's son climbed into the seat next to Harry and pulled on the sleeve of his tunic. "Hello?" Harry said, uncertain.
"This is Conrad, my youngest," Helga introduced with a smile.
The boy peered up at Harry from behind bright blond hair very like his mother's and asked, "Is it true you almost died?"
"Conrad!" Helga snapped.
"Yes," Harry allowed, watching the boy curiously and not at all bothered by his question – it was hardly the first time he'd been asked about having almost died, after all.
"What was it like?"
Helga drew in a sharp breath next to Harry, but the teen cocked his head to the side and asked, "Ever stubbed your toe on something really hard?"
Conrad nodded. "It hurts a lot," he said wisely.
Harry nodded back. "It felt a bit like I stubbed every part of my body, all at once."
"Ouch," Conrad decided.
"Ouch," Harry agreed and smiled at the boy. "But I'm better now."
Conrad smiled back. "Salazar healed my toe last time I stubbed it," he said. "He's good at healing stubbed toes."
"Salazar is good at healing a great many things," Harry replied, "but I'll bet stubbed toes are a specialty."
"They'd best be, with how many you and Kenny get," Helga cut in, smiling. "Conrad, sweetie, why don't you collect the girls and Torrance while I summon lunch."
"Okay, Mum!" Conrad agreed before bounding out of his seat and running towards where a group of three girls about Harry's age stood.
"Alright, Harry, dear?" Helga asked, touching Harry's shoulder.
"I'm fine," Harry replied with a smile. "Or I will be, as soon as I get something in me that isn't Salazar's soup."
Helga laughed and stood, raising her wand over the table. "I think we can manage that much," she said and waved her wand.
Just like had happened in Harry's time, food appeared over the length of the table. Harry counted at least three different kinds of meat, set between loaves of fresh bread, bowls of various vegetables and fruits, and pitchers of cool pumpkin juice.
The benches around the table quickly filled with people and everyone dug in. Harry wasn't the only one to praise Helga's cooking, but he was the most vehement about it, much to her embarrassment and obvious pleasure.
As soon as the food had cleared, Harry was dragged off by Conrad to meet the other kids currently staying in the castle. He was formally introduced to Kenric, who grinned at him from under hair as violently red as his father's. The eldest of the three girls was Ramona, Conrad's sister, who'd just turned fourteen. The next oldest was Duana, a dark-haired girl that had been forced to flee her home or be burnt at the stake for her magic. The youngest girl was Rowena's daughter, Helena, who was a bit on the tall side for eleven; Harry figured she must have inherited her mother's height.
Helena also, Harry realised when she turned sombrely away to pick up a book she'd been reading, looked familiar. He couldn't quite place where he recognised her from – a painting? One of the ghosts? – and he promised himself he'd meditate on it that night, when he worked on his Occlumency.
With the introductions done, Harry found himself being tugged on by Conrad and Kenric, both of whom were spending their days getting lost in the castle. Duana, who'd only just been brought to Hogwarts two days ago by Godric, was equally excited to explore. Helena waved them off when asked if she'd like to come, and Ramona explained that she intended to help Helga with dinner preparations.
Harry ended up going along with the boys and Duana, telling himself he was going along just in case something happened. He'd already spent four years in the castle and considered himself quite familiar with it, for all that he tended to get lost in the dungeons if he went in too far.
Within an hour, Harry had realised he was in the castle when it was practically brand new, before the forgotten passages had fallen in on themselves and a thousand years of students had worn down the stone corridors. The excitement was catching, and Harry was laughing along with the others when they stumbled across a ghoul on the sixth floor and it moaned at them until they ran back out into the hall.
A loud gong interrupted their fun and Kenric explained to Harry, "That's Rowena's sign that it's about dinner time. After the first time Conrad and I didn't show up for dinner and they spent two hours hunting us down, she showed us all the spell and said she'd be using it from then on to call us all to dinner."
"It's not a bad idea," Harry pointed out.
"It's just really loud," Conrad complained as the gong sounded again.
"We'll get you some ear muffles," Duana teased, dancing out of the way when Conrad made a half-hearted swipe in her direction.
In the Great Hall, Harry found himself shoved down between Duana and Conrad to eat. The three youngest of the four explorers regaled the adults with tales of their adventures in the castle, earning a few laughs and a great many fond grins.
After dinner, the adults ushered their kids off, Duana being dragged along with Godric, Kenric, and Bernia.
And Harry found himself left with Salazar.
They stared at each other uncertainly for a long moment before Salazar let out a heavy sigh and said, "I'm...sorry. I shouldn't have– I didn't mean to– I mean–"
Harry laughed and shook his head. "It's okay, Salazar. I forgive you for being a git."
Salazar let out an irritated huff and motioned for Harry to follow him down to the dungeons. Once down in the darkened halls, he asked, "Enjoy your run through the castle?"
"It was fun," Harry agreed, smiling. "Things are still mostly the same, but there are some subtle differences. Like, in the future, most of the upper floors have portraits and tapestries along them. And I'm used to opening random doors and finding rooms full of desks and chairs, but I don't think I saw a single one while we were exploring."
Salazar stopped them in front of a bare patch of wall and stared at it for a moment before commenting, "I suppose I should change the password, so you can get in. It's currently in Parseltongue," he explained to Harry's curious look before turning back to the wall and hissing, :Trista.: The wall slid back and to the side, letting them in.
Harry almost told Salazar he was a Parselmouth, just so he could ask who Trista was, but he held his tongue, in the end, and took the chance to look around the darkened common room while Salazar changed his password.
For the most part, the room was empty. The lake water pushing against the windows tinted everything a faint green-blue and left waving patterns across the floor. In the far corner, just past where Harry remembered the paths to the dorms being in the future, there was a pile of blankets and a small desk and chair with parchment and a quill set out.
"I changed it to 'serpents'," Salazar commented as he came to stand next to Harry and look around the room himself. "I haven't finished creating bedrooms for my students yet, since I don't know how many I'll have down here, so they're closed off. We can conjure you some bedding in the other corner, if you'd like, or I can add a bit more over in my corner."
Harry considered that for a moment, then shrugged. "We'd both probably be warmer if we shared the bed," he commented, then flushed as his mind caught up with his mouth. "I mean–"
"I know what you meant," Salazar said drily before slipping his wand from his own bracer – now that Harry knew what they were, it was hard not to see them on the forearms of everyone in the castle, even the kids – and waving it towards the bedding in the corner. It stretched a bit and more blankets were added. "There we go. Well, I'll probably be up for a bit, writing."
Harry nodded. "I'm a bit tired from my adventures," he admitted. "I'll probably work on my Occlumency a bit, then turn in."
"Of course. Good night, then," Salazar offered.
"Good night," Harry replied and made for the bed while Salazar turned to his desk.
Harry took a moment to get comfortable, setting his belt, shoes, and bracer off to one side. His wand was slipped under the pillow, then he sat under the blankets and closed his eyes to focus. He turned his attention to that glimpse of Helena as she'd been turning away, then left his unconscious to sort things to its pleasure. When he came out of it a little under an hour later, he knew Helena would be the Grey Lady, the Ravenclaw House ghost, and he hurt for the girl who would spend over a thousand years haunting these same halls.
-0-
A/N: Shara admitted to being a little confused about who's who, so I've put a little guide here at the end. Let me know if anyone's still confused and I'll see if I can't help that a bit more end of next chapter? ^.^"
I'll add to the list in future chapters when I bring in new, important characters that Harry spends a lot of time with (there's only two more, at this point in my notes). For characters that only get a passing reference – perhaps someone asking a question in class – I won't bother fleshing out enough to bother with a list. So, if you don't see them on the list, know they probably won't show up more than once or twice. (Following this, Ollivander isn't on this list because you probably won't be seeing him again.)
And, I don't know that I'll ever get to putting it anywhere, so I'm saying here: Trista was Salazar's mother's name.
Bats ^.^x
Who's Who - Founder's Period:
Helga Hufflepuff -- Blonde hair, a bit plump, loves cooking, the shortest of the adults and nearly the same height as Harry.
Roscoe Hufflepuff -- Brown hair, slightly more plump than his wife, a muggle. Enjoys working with his hands. Helga's husband.
Ramona Hufflepuff -- Brown hair, a bit plump, enjoys cooking and wants to become as good a cook as her mother. One year younger than Harry. Helga's daughter.
Conrad Hufflepuff -- Blond hair, shy with strangers but easily excitable with friends. Five years younger than Harry. Helga's son.
Godric Gryffindor -- Has a variable mane of red hair about the same shade as the Weasleys'. Tallest of the residents of the castle at just over seven foot. Believes everyone should know how to protect themselves with whatever weapons they can use.
Bernia Gryffindor -- Brown hair, blue-green eyes, an excellent archer and known for her ability to enchant her arrows. Godric's wife.
Kenric 'Kenny' Gryffindor -- Red hair the same colour as Godric's, blue-green eyes, easily excitable and naturally curious about everything. The youngest member of the castle, six years younger than Harry. Godric's son.
Rowena Ravenclaw -- Black hair, bright blue eyes, only a few inches shorter than Godric. Known for her great intelligence and ability to make a spell for anything. Comes off a bit cold at first glance, but really just has trouble relating to people.
Holden Ravenclaw -- Dark brown hair, nearly Rowena's height, prefers contemplation to action. Rowena's husband.
Helena Ravenclaw -- Dark brown hair, blue eyes, the tallest of the kids and four years younger than Harry. Prefers reading a book over playing. Is the ghost of Ravenclaw House, the Grey Lady, in Harry's time. Rowena's daughter.
Salazar Slytherin -- Chin-length black hair, eyes a shade paler than Harry's, Parselmouth and Legilimens. Studied in alchemy and healing magic. The youngest of the Founders (same age as Bernia) and only a few inches taller than Helga and Harry. Tends to react rudely to anything that catches him off-guard or Godric's boasting.
Duana -- Short black hair, black eyes, three years younger than Harry. Brought to Hogwarts by Godric when her village tried to lynch her for her magic. Has a bad habit of acting before she thinks, quite adventurous.
01 - Impossible Distance ||
04 - Let It Flow || 05 - White Horses || 06 - Disturbs Your Slumber
07 - Heart Worth Breaking || 08 - Keep It Inside || 09 - Like the Stars
10 - I'll Breathe Again || 11 - Set Fire to the Rain || 12 - Generation Built on a Lie
13 - In Defence of Our Dreams || 14 - Night Falls In || 15 - Nobody Knows Our Names
16 - I'm Not Drowning || 17 - Beating of the Storm || 18 - Let Me See Your Fire
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