Title: Walls and Wards
Summary: As the battle of Hogwarts rages, the castle itself has some musings of time and the actions that have so marked its walls.
Setting: Hogwarts Castle
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise. This is for fun only, please don't sue. This story is for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition
THE WIGTOWN WANDERERS CHASER 3:
Prompts:
I hear the world is ending soon. When we go, and we are all going to go, I will be part of it." – Neil Hilborn,This Is The End.Too shortStupido0o0o
My corner stones were laid by the four founders over a thousand years ago and as time as passed, the seasons going from Winter to Spring, Summer Autumn and then Winter again, so many times over I have become more aware, my magic growing within my walls. And as I have become more and more aware I have come to realise that those who inhabit my walls, who walk my corridors and who spend so much of their short childhoods within my wards are often deluded.
The stone used to build my keep and my great hall was quarried in the great pits of Wales and brought up the coast by barges, steered by mermaids and manned by Wizards who spoke in tongues that haven't been spoken in these lands since then, up to the treacherous Morecambe Bay. From that bay they used dragons to transport the stone to where I now stand. My masonry was done by the finest workers from all the magical races, none but the best stonework for my walls, or for the overhangs. Goblins worked on my staircases and bridges, tricky and strong. Elves and other fae folk did the intricate designs that inspire so much awe into first year students even now.
Salazar left his familiar in his Chambers, deep underneath the Black Lake; a hope for the great beast that was destined to protect the students of the great School, but the foolishness of wizards, never looking back and taking head mean that the tunnels seized and the poor, once so noble beast hungered for years. Oh, to see such a noble creature brought so low by the foolishness of man. I had tried to convince many, such as Dippet; when he was here, to do the repairs but apparently the inhabitants of my halls to learn never got anything of use between their ears in the seven years they were here. Seven years to learn, and then they move on with all this information and knowledge, and forget that even the strongest of wards need upkeep, that magic is not infinite, it is not everlasting.
The last time a headmaster bothered to do upkeep on my walls and wards, was around 150 years after I was first built, some time after my founders had died, and there was no one left who remembered them personally. It was stories, rumours, they knew of the founders through someone else, but at least they cared for me. It's been a long time since then, but still they insist on sending more and more students to me, their precious heirs, the future of the wizarding race, and not one of them gives a thought to me. Not even when I have to get more active in my attempts to persuade them do they care, I had to almost bludgeon a third year to death with a stone off of the north courtyard castellation before they would do anything. To be fair, I had meant to miss; the tiny Ravenclaw was faster than I had expected. Even then, they only repaired one area, not deeming it worth it to try and repair all of my structure.
Oh, how my founders would be most disappointed. I was stunningly beautiful once, a grand shining jewel in this bleak land and now I blend in. Sweet Helga's infirmary keeps seeing students that have been hexed with the aim to make their victim suffer pain. They cannot seem to realise that their lives are too short. They only live for about 150 years, if they are lucky, and I have been here ten times more that. Sometimes I wonder if it is really worth it for them to do all that fighting, all that pain; to have their blood spilled across my halls as they battle each other over silly insults, when eventually their world ends and they pass on and I, as ever, carry on.
According to that bushy haired girl whose favourite book is Hogwarts: A History, I have been through the late Anglo –Saxon period, the Norman Conquest, Early Medieval followed by the Tudor. I have seen the Jacobean rebellions on part of the grounds and the friction that caused in the student population. I have survived the Age of Enlightenment and the Industrial Revolution. The cycle of life and death are like the seasons that happen each year. Each Historical age is just another cycle of change another circle of time and the seasons for me while meanwhile their lives are but just a moment in that time, as minuscule as the ants they step on; to me both the ants and these wizards are the same, fleeting and careless. I have seen them all come and go through my wards. They have walked my corridors and sat in classrooms. The wonder in the first years when they see the ceiling of the great hall while waiting for their sorting. I remember when Dumbledore was here for the first time in his short pants that didn't even reach his knees. He had a knobbly set if there ever was the most knobbly knee competition in his year. He was the Headmaster for a time, and not so bad at it either despite his excessive fascination for muggle sweets, but even he didn't do much for my upkeep.
Myself I have never eaten a chocolate mars bar but different builders have used food products as part of the construction of my many phases. Although there was the builder who used a treacle solution and calico to waterproof the tower he added to my keep. He then laid a slate roof above is underlining. That tower is now used by the Ravenclaw's Head of House. I know it sounds silly it really works apparently the builder got the idea for a viaduct somewhere in England. It certainly has kept the library in that apartment very dry for many years. What was the name of that man? It was Nicolas something I forget he is long gone the way of dust like that which is currently cluttering many of the rooms. There are not as many of the students now as before the Black Death. Other causes have also decreased the numbers of humans that have graced my halls. I blame their foolhardiness and fractiousness for war. For this cycle of time it appears to be a succession of war every couple of years. I have barely seen a student in my halls and then out again seven years later without seeing them turn from such wide eyed innocence to fear and hatred. Again and again I see that there is trouble brewing amongst the beings that flit in and out of me.
Seven years of education is only such a short time. Each time the darkness descends the level of worry increases and I begin to feel the tension of the population. My hallways get dirtier and dingier. They fight in the hallways not caring about my stone dressing. It is so sad that the founders who made me and gave me life have not reached their goal. They wanted me to be a sanctuary but now I am a war ground. Yet again.
These beings that inhabit me forget that their lifespan is so short and there is more important things to learn than how to kill their fellow students. There have been some who have killed themselves in my walls and I have cried in my own way over the loss of their lives. They had a chance to see the wonders of the world which students read about and paintings tell me about. But I am here anchored on the shores of the Black Lake.
I watched when Dumbledore fell from my astronomy tower. It was sad to see death be a consequence of his presence in that tower. More frequently it has been used for the creation of life when young lovers tryst have resulted in bundles of joy nine months later for the couple and 11 years later for me.
At least the house elves treat me with respect. They try to keep their areas maintained and well looked after. I like to help out by shifting passageways that let them get to where they want to quickly avoiding the pesky students and staff. There are some students who like to hurt the elves. They're the ones whom I shift the stairs on hoping to catch them unaware so that they fall. It is my payback as the elves do so much to keep me beautiful and whole. It is them who clear my gutters and repair the roofs.
I could have locked Dumbledore in his rooms for years for agreeing to host that tournament again. That bloody dragon hurt clattering round me and scraping my stones. So here we are in a battle here on my grounds. I will still exist even though I will take a battering in their hexes and spells. Even though those giants sure will make a mess off my carvings, why did they have to bring in the giants anyway; when I find that wizard I'm going to make him remember that the magic of Salazar Slytherin has not completely faded from these old stones of mine.