DISCLAIMER: I own nothing; it's all J.K. Rowling. Don't sue.
SUMMARY: From the dark, twisted depths of the mind of a Founders fanatic comes… a tale of how the school got the motto! Opens in August of 1971. Albus Dumbledore is moving into his office when he discovers an old journal belonging to Godric Gryffindor, and by reading it, he and our favorite Transfiguration instructor discover one of the greatest stories never told: It's just another hot summer day in medieval Britain when the Hogwarts Four decide they've put off giving the school a motto long enough and think about what could be a good slogan for the greatest wizarding school in the world. Suddenly, a dragon shows up! It looks like the motto is just going to have to wait… or does it?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just something of an exercise piece to get my mind working while I'm suffering from writer's block. This story is dedicated to Aeryn Alexander, because she wanted to know what 'Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus' meant. ^_^ Enjoy!
~~~
Chapter One - We Need a Motto
~~~
"Albus?"
"Yes, Minerva?"
"Think fast."
Albus Dumbledore, the new headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, looked up just in time to see a set of books hovering above his head. He pointed his wand at the books and slowly guided them down onto his desk. "Thank you, Minerva," he said, smiling at the witch helping him move in to his new office.
Minerva McGonagall, the Potions-Master-turned-Transfiguration-instructor upon Albus's promotion, smiled back at her friend and associate. "Here's the next set," she said, pulling several books out of a large box. "Wingardium Leviosa."
"Slow down, Minerva," Albus said as he placed the books on the bookshelf. "I've still got to organize this set."
Minerva gathered the books out of the air and carried them over to him in her arms. "Here you are," she said, handing him a book. "'Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood', by Albus Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel. A wonderful work, I must say."
Albus turned slightly red and took the book from her. "I'm not so sure about that," he said, placing it on the shelf. "Flamel knew what he was talking about, but that Dumbledore fellow was a bit mad."
"The brilliant ones always are," Minerva replied, and they smiled at each other. She reached for the next book on the pile and read off its title and author. "'A History of Transfiguration', by Artino Devlin. I'm going to have to borrow this from you sometime, Albus."
"Be my guest," he said. "Take it now, if you like."
She thanked him and set it aside. "'Properties of Mandrakes', by Vincent Lourdes," she said, handing him the next book.
He took it from her. Their fingers brushed at the handoff, and both of them blushed slightly. "Thank you," Albus said, shelving the book.
"You're welcome," she said, and picked up the next book. She was about to read the title when she saw that it didn't have a title at all. "That's strange," she said.
"What?" Albus asked.
Minerva showed him the book. "No title." The only thing adorning the cover of black leather was the crest of Gryffindor house.
"Open it," he suggested.
She did, and when she saw what was written on the front page, she gasped. The book fell from her hands and fluttered to the floor. "Albus," she said, "it's... it's a journal."
"Whose?" Albus inquired.
Minerva picked up the book, turned it to the first page, and handed it to him. "Godric Gryffindor's."
His eyes grew wide. "How unusual. I never knew there was a journal belonging to Godric Gryffindor in my collection, although I must admit that I own a lot of books that I had all but forgotten about, so it's not completely beyond the realm of possibility. I wonder what it says."
"Let's find out," Minerva suggested.
"All right." They walked over to an armchair toward the center of the room and sat down on the floor in front of it, propping themselves up by their elbows on the seat. Albus cleared his throat and began to read. "August eighteenth, nine sixty-five, started out like any other day, but little did we know that by the end of that day, things would happen at Hogwarts that would bring us closer together and change the way we looked at life. Hogwarts was almost ready to be opened to young wizards and witches in training, but their was still one thing missing: a motto..."
~~~
The summer of 965, aside from being unusually warm, would forever go down in the history of the wizarding world. It was that year that the four most powerful wizards and witches in history met each other and decided to combine their efforts to create a place where the young people of their world could study magic without fear of persecution from the non-magical folk. Just months later, construction began on the giant castle, and on August 17, 965, the final stone was laid and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was almost ready to be opened. There was only one thing missing - a motto.
August 18, 965 was like most of the other days that summer - hot, humid, and miserable. Four figures, two male and two female, were lounging in one of the castle's small sitting rooms, trying to stay alive in the horrid heat. One of them was standing up against a wall. Another was lying on a couch, half asleep. The third was sitting in a large armchair. The fourth was lying on the floor and staring mindlessly at the ceiling high overhead. Their school needed something that only they could provide, but they, being completely drained of all motivation, had no idea how they were going to give Hogwarts what it needed so desperately.
The wizard sitting in the armchair let out a long sigh and drummed his fingers against the chair's red velvet upholstery. His name was Godric Gryffindor, and he was tall and very handsome, with dark blonde hair and blue eyes that normally sparkled, but had lost their luster temporarily with boredom. "We need a motto," Godric said.
The witch lying on the couch opened one sleepy grey eye and looked at Godric. Her name was Rowena Ravenclaw. Like Godric, she was very attractive for her sex, with a pale complexion, eyes the color of smoke, and hair as black as a the inside of a coffin on a moonless night. She closed her eye, sighed, and opened both eyes. "We need a motto."
Helga Hufflepuff, the pretty, blonde-haired, green-eyed witch lying on the floor blinked once and offered her opinion as well. "We need a motto."
The dark-haired, dark-eyed wizard leaning against the wall, Salazar Slytherin by name, nodded in agreement and said, "Yes, we do need a…" He stopped talking as his mind went blank. "What was it called again?"
"Motto, Salazar," said Helga. "Motto."
"Right," Salazar said. "Motto. We need a motto."
"We've been saying this for the last four months," Rowena grumbled, and rolled over onto her side.
"There's something else we've been saying for the last four months, too," said Godric. "You should get more sleep."
Rowena lifted up her head and glared at him. "I get plenty of sleep."
"Yes, during the day," Godric replied.
Rowena reached for the small pillow underneath her head and threw it at him. He ducked, but her aim was so far off that ducking really wasn't necessary. "See?" said Salazar. "You're so tired that you can't even throw straight."
She turned her annoyed gaze to Salazar. "Shut up, Salazar," she snapped.
"I'm only stating the obvious," Salazar responded.
"Salazar, there's something on your face," Helga commented.
Salazar felt the tickling sensation of tiny feet scurrying across his skin, and let out a shout of surprise. "Spider!" he cried, and slapped his cheek. Something small and dark fell to the floor, and Salazar proceeded to jump on it several times. "I hate spiders!" he said when he felt it was sufficiently squashed.
"So get a basilisk," Godric suggested. "Spiders are terrified of them. They won't come near one."
Salazar's eyes lit up. "Really? Where can I find one?"
Godric looked confused. "I wasn't serious."
Salazar frowned. "Oh."
"Here's an idea for the motto," said Helga. "All Spiders Should be Squashed."
Salazar smiled broadly. "I like it," he said, and nodded.
"I don't," Rowena said. "What kind of a motto is that?"
"A good one," Salazar said.
Helga shook her head. "No, Salazar, she's right; it's pretty stupid."
"Here's an idea," said Rowena. "Salazar Is A Moron!"
Salazar made a face. "Ha ha," he said dryly. "I've got a better idea: Rowena Is Grumpy!"
"How about Godric Will Knock Rowena And Salazar's Heads Together If They Don't Shut Up?" Godric suggested.
Helga laughed, but Rowena and Salazar didn't think it was that funny. "Wake me up when someone thinks of something good," Rowena said, and closed her eyes. Then, she opened them again and said, "Damn it!"
"What?" the three others asked in unison.
"I forgot that I threw the pillow over there," she said, and sat up.
"How's this for a motto?" asked Helga. "Never Throw A Pillow. Of course, we'll have to go through all the trouble of translating that into Latin..."
"Who said mottos have to be in Latin, anyway?" asked Godric.
"Nobody," Salazar answered. "It just sounds good."
"I say we have a motto in a language besides Latin," said Godric.
Rowena snorted. "Like what?"
He shrugged. "I don't know... Chinese?"
She let out an irritated sigh and rolled her eyes. "Godric, do you even know any Chinese?"
"Well... no, but-"
"My point exactly."
"Well, it looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning," said Salazar.
Godric shook his head. "No, she didn't," he said. "In order to wake up on the wrong side of bed, one must be in bed in the first place, and as we all know, Rowena doesn't sleep."
Rowena pointed her finger at him and said, "Godric, one more word out of you, and I am going to come over there."
He chuckled. "And do what?"
She opened her mouth, shut it when she realized she didn't have a reply, then stammered, "I... don't know, but... but it'll be bad!"
Godric threw his arms into the air and then let them fall back down on the chair's armrests. "Bring it on, Rowena! Maybe it'll help us think of a decent motto!"
"You two fight like you're married," Helga said, and Salazar snickered.
Both Godric and Rowena turned an interesting shade of red.
"Maybe that should be our... our... what was it called?" Salazar asked.
"Motto, Salazar," said Helga. "Motto."
"Right. Motto," Salazar said. "Godric And Rowena Fight Like They're Married."
"This is serious, you three," said Godric. "We can't have a school without a motto."
"We can," said Rowena, "but it just wouldn't be the same."
"Exactly," said Godric. "So we need a motto."
Silence.
Godric sighed and lifted his eyes to the ceiling. "Any ideas?"
A similar conversation ensued for the next hour. It ended with Rowena saying, "This is pointless! We can't think of anything! We just might as well not have a motto!" No one could make any valid argument to refute her statement.
Rowena sighed and got up off the couch. "I'm going to bed. Wake me up if anyone thinks of a good motto."
"But it's only mid-afternoon," Helga commented as Rowena left the room.
"Let her go," said Godric. "She needs her sleep."
"I heard that, Gryffindor!" Rowena shouted from outside.
Suddenly, a pounding sound echoed through the castle. When the noise faded, Godric, Helga, and Salazar looked at each other. "That wasn't Rowena, was it?" Salazar asked.
Godric shook his head. "No, I don't think so."
Rowena came back into the room. "That wasn't me."
"We deduced that," Helga replied.
The pounding was heard again.
"Then what was it?" Salazar asked.
Godric stood up and withdrew the sword hanging at his waist from its sheath. "Let's find out."
SUMMARY: From the dark, twisted depths of the mind of a Founders fanatic comes… a tale of how the school got the motto! Opens in August of 1971. Albus Dumbledore is moving into his office when he discovers an old journal belonging to Godric Gryffindor, and by reading it, he and our favorite Transfiguration instructor discover one of the greatest stories never told: It's just another hot summer day in medieval Britain when the Hogwarts Four decide they've put off giving the school a motto long enough and think about what could be a good slogan for the greatest wizarding school in the world. Suddenly, a dragon shows up! It looks like the motto is just going to have to wait… or does it?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just something of an exercise piece to get my mind working while I'm suffering from writer's block. This story is dedicated to Aeryn Alexander, because she wanted to know what 'Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus' meant. ^_^ Enjoy!
~~~
Chapter One - We Need a Motto
~~~
"Albus?"
"Yes, Minerva?"
"Think fast."
Albus Dumbledore, the new headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, looked up just in time to see a set of books hovering above his head. He pointed his wand at the books and slowly guided them down onto his desk. "Thank you, Minerva," he said, smiling at the witch helping him move in to his new office.
Minerva McGonagall, the Potions-Master-turned-Transfiguration-instructor upon Albus's promotion, smiled back at her friend and associate. "Here's the next set," she said, pulling several books out of a large box. "Wingardium Leviosa."
"Slow down, Minerva," Albus said as he placed the books on the bookshelf. "I've still got to organize this set."
Minerva gathered the books out of the air and carried them over to him in her arms. "Here you are," she said, handing him a book. "'Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood', by Albus Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel. A wonderful work, I must say."
Albus turned slightly red and took the book from her. "I'm not so sure about that," he said, placing it on the shelf. "Flamel knew what he was talking about, but that Dumbledore fellow was a bit mad."
"The brilliant ones always are," Minerva replied, and they smiled at each other. She reached for the next book on the pile and read off its title and author. "'A History of Transfiguration', by Artino Devlin. I'm going to have to borrow this from you sometime, Albus."
"Be my guest," he said. "Take it now, if you like."
She thanked him and set it aside. "'Properties of Mandrakes', by Vincent Lourdes," she said, handing him the next book.
He took it from her. Their fingers brushed at the handoff, and both of them blushed slightly. "Thank you," Albus said, shelving the book.
"You're welcome," she said, and picked up the next book. She was about to read the title when she saw that it didn't have a title at all. "That's strange," she said.
"What?" Albus asked.
Minerva showed him the book. "No title." The only thing adorning the cover of black leather was the crest of Gryffindor house.
"Open it," he suggested.
She did, and when she saw what was written on the front page, she gasped. The book fell from her hands and fluttered to the floor. "Albus," she said, "it's... it's a journal."
"Whose?" Albus inquired.
Minerva picked up the book, turned it to the first page, and handed it to him. "Godric Gryffindor's."
His eyes grew wide. "How unusual. I never knew there was a journal belonging to Godric Gryffindor in my collection, although I must admit that I own a lot of books that I had all but forgotten about, so it's not completely beyond the realm of possibility. I wonder what it says."
"Let's find out," Minerva suggested.
"All right." They walked over to an armchair toward the center of the room and sat down on the floor in front of it, propping themselves up by their elbows on the seat. Albus cleared his throat and began to read. "August eighteenth, nine sixty-five, started out like any other day, but little did we know that by the end of that day, things would happen at Hogwarts that would bring us closer together and change the way we looked at life. Hogwarts was almost ready to be opened to young wizards and witches in training, but their was still one thing missing: a motto..."
~~~
The summer of 965, aside from being unusually warm, would forever go down in the history of the wizarding world. It was that year that the four most powerful wizards and witches in history met each other and decided to combine their efforts to create a place where the young people of their world could study magic without fear of persecution from the non-magical folk. Just months later, construction began on the giant castle, and on August 17, 965, the final stone was laid and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was almost ready to be opened. There was only one thing missing - a motto.
August 18, 965 was like most of the other days that summer - hot, humid, and miserable. Four figures, two male and two female, were lounging in one of the castle's small sitting rooms, trying to stay alive in the horrid heat. One of them was standing up against a wall. Another was lying on a couch, half asleep. The third was sitting in a large armchair. The fourth was lying on the floor and staring mindlessly at the ceiling high overhead. Their school needed something that only they could provide, but they, being completely drained of all motivation, had no idea how they were going to give Hogwarts what it needed so desperately.
The wizard sitting in the armchair let out a long sigh and drummed his fingers against the chair's red velvet upholstery. His name was Godric Gryffindor, and he was tall and very handsome, with dark blonde hair and blue eyes that normally sparkled, but had lost their luster temporarily with boredom. "We need a motto," Godric said.
The witch lying on the couch opened one sleepy grey eye and looked at Godric. Her name was Rowena Ravenclaw. Like Godric, she was very attractive for her sex, with a pale complexion, eyes the color of smoke, and hair as black as a the inside of a coffin on a moonless night. She closed her eye, sighed, and opened both eyes. "We need a motto."
Helga Hufflepuff, the pretty, blonde-haired, green-eyed witch lying on the floor blinked once and offered her opinion as well. "We need a motto."
The dark-haired, dark-eyed wizard leaning against the wall, Salazar Slytherin by name, nodded in agreement and said, "Yes, we do need a…" He stopped talking as his mind went blank. "What was it called again?"
"Motto, Salazar," said Helga. "Motto."
"Right," Salazar said. "Motto. We need a motto."
"We've been saying this for the last four months," Rowena grumbled, and rolled over onto her side.
"There's something else we've been saying for the last four months, too," said Godric. "You should get more sleep."
Rowena lifted up her head and glared at him. "I get plenty of sleep."
"Yes, during the day," Godric replied.
Rowena reached for the small pillow underneath her head and threw it at him. He ducked, but her aim was so far off that ducking really wasn't necessary. "See?" said Salazar. "You're so tired that you can't even throw straight."
She turned her annoyed gaze to Salazar. "Shut up, Salazar," she snapped.
"I'm only stating the obvious," Salazar responded.
"Salazar, there's something on your face," Helga commented.
Salazar felt the tickling sensation of tiny feet scurrying across his skin, and let out a shout of surprise. "Spider!" he cried, and slapped his cheek. Something small and dark fell to the floor, and Salazar proceeded to jump on it several times. "I hate spiders!" he said when he felt it was sufficiently squashed.
"So get a basilisk," Godric suggested. "Spiders are terrified of them. They won't come near one."
Salazar's eyes lit up. "Really? Where can I find one?"
Godric looked confused. "I wasn't serious."
Salazar frowned. "Oh."
"Here's an idea for the motto," said Helga. "All Spiders Should be Squashed."
Salazar smiled broadly. "I like it," he said, and nodded.
"I don't," Rowena said. "What kind of a motto is that?"
"A good one," Salazar said.
Helga shook her head. "No, Salazar, she's right; it's pretty stupid."
"Here's an idea," said Rowena. "Salazar Is A Moron!"
Salazar made a face. "Ha ha," he said dryly. "I've got a better idea: Rowena Is Grumpy!"
"How about Godric Will Knock Rowena And Salazar's Heads Together If They Don't Shut Up?" Godric suggested.
Helga laughed, but Rowena and Salazar didn't think it was that funny. "Wake me up when someone thinks of something good," Rowena said, and closed her eyes. Then, she opened them again and said, "Damn it!"
"What?" the three others asked in unison.
"I forgot that I threw the pillow over there," she said, and sat up.
"How's this for a motto?" asked Helga. "Never Throw A Pillow. Of course, we'll have to go through all the trouble of translating that into Latin..."
"Who said mottos have to be in Latin, anyway?" asked Godric.
"Nobody," Salazar answered. "It just sounds good."
"I say we have a motto in a language besides Latin," said Godric.
Rowena snorted. "Like what?"
He shrugged. "I don't know... Chinese?"
She let out an irritated sigh and rolled her eyes. "Godric, do you even know any Chinese?"
"Well... no, but-"
"My point exactly."
"Well, it looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning," said Salazar.
Godric shook his head. "No, she didn't," he said. "In order to wake up on the wrong side of bed, one must be in bed in the first place, and as we all know, Rowena doesn't sleep."
Rowena pointed her finger at him and said, "Godric, one more word out of you, and I am going to come over there."
He chuckled. "And do what?"
She opened her mouth, shut it when she realized she didn't have a reply, then stammered, "I... don't know, but... but it'll be bad!"
Godric threw his arms into the air and then let them fall back down on the chair's armrests. "Bring it on, Rowena! Maybe it'll help us think of a decent motto!"
"You two fight like you're married," Helga said, and Salazar snickered.
Both Godric and Rowena turned an interesting shade of red.
"Maybe that should be our... our... what was it called?" Salazar asked.
"Motto, Salazar," said Helga. "Motto."
"Right. Motto," Salazar said. "Godric And Rowena Fight Like They're Married."
"This is serious, you three," said Godric. "We can't have a school without a motto."
"We can," said Rowena, "but it just wouldn't be the same."
"Exactly," said Godric. "So we need a motto."
Silence.
Godric sighed and lifted his eyes to the ceiling. "Any ideas?"
A similar conversation ensued for the next hour. It ended with Rowena saying, "This is pointless! We can't think of anything! We just might as well not have a motto!" No one could make any valid argument to refute her statement.
Rowena sighed and got up off the couch. "I'm going to bed. Wake me up if anyone thinks of a good motto."
"But it's only mid-afternoon," Helga commented as Rowena left the room.
"Let her go," said Godric. "She needs her sleep."
"I heard that, Gryffindor!" Rowena shouted from outside.
Suddenly, a pounding sound echoed through the castle. When the noise faded, Godric, Helga, and Salazar looked at each other. "That wasn't Rowena, was it?" Salazar asked.
Godric shook his head. "No, I don't think so."
Rowena came back into the room. "That wasn't me."
"We deduced that," Helga replied.
The pounding was heard again.
"Then what was it?" Salazar asked.
Godric stood up and withdrew the sword hanging at his waist from its sheath. "Let's find out."