Authors' Note:
Yes, you've read well and no, this is not a typo. We are not one, not three, but two authors working on this fanfic. The names are Yukii and Yumii (No shit Sherlock, this is totally not the name of the account), and we've been writing and re-writing this fic for quite a few months now (over a year ahem).
It all started as a little writing exercise on Messenger, each of us writing one sentence after the other in order to create a story. The first one involved a witch and talking unicorns… But then, as we started over and wrote something else entirely, still on Messenger, Yumii started to take a real liking to this story.
What had started as one simple sentence evolved into two, then a paragraph, and then dialogue appeared too. Yumii copied and pasted the conversation into a doc, and we kept writing from what we had, transforming a rough idea into a detailed and planned fanfic. We're basing our story on the canon, but we write it our own way, the way that we understand it, and the way we find best to explain the story we're telling.
The process of finding a title was also a bit tricky. We both had great ideas, Yumii even offered, 'A Snake on the Lion's Back' but that wasn't to Yukii's taste. So, Yumii said that maybe the opposite would work better: 'A Lion on the Snake's Back' but for some reason, Yukii liked it even less… We had a few ideas, so we proceeded to rank them from our favourite to our least favourite, and we both placed the current title plus another one we can't remember third and fourth, and fourth and third. We had to create a poll with our friends so they could vote for their favourite one, and 'Beware the Cowardice of the Lion' was born.
We were both very busy, hence the huge delay, and it took us so long to plan everything so we would both agree on what to include, when to mention it, and even now we don't fully know what's going to happen at the very end. But that's fine! At least, we managed to finish the first chapter, and we're able to deliver it to you now!
We hope you enjoy and are eager to know what you think of it!
Disclaimer: The universe and characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling.
Warning: The following has been written by two crazy Potterheads who have way too much imagination for their own good. Proceed with caution.
Chapter 1
Winter came early that year and the chill was not missed by anyone. The castle was asleep due to the late hour—though two or three students were still awake doing Merlin knew what .The silence was almost unearthly, but in its strangeness, it was also peaceful in its own way.
The silver moon reflected its light on the Great Lake's frozen surface. There, as a raven croaked in the deep dark sky, the stillness of the night was broken by a bright flash of light that lit up the entire east side of the park. When finally the light dimmed down, only the figure of a man stayed, lying on the ground, injured and struggling to move at all. Dressed in damaged deep emerald robes soaked with blood, his long dark blond hair was loose around his shoulders. Though the colour of his robes might have reminded someone of one of the School, the man didn't appear to be a student here, nor did he seem to be a teacher.
Another man appeared right after him in blood brown robes, panting heavily and wincing with each movement he made. He took out a dagger to cut his palm neatly before tracing runes all over his friend's body with his blood.
"Hang in there, I'll heal you real quick."
The runes lit up, and a soft heat and golden glow emanated from it. The man in red held his breath, his eyes steadily fixated on the other. A few seconds passed, but the man still didn't stir. Panic took place in the second man's eyes as he tried tracing other healing runes in specific places of the unconscious one. He drew them on his wrists and forehead, and they glowed a soft bright blue. Slowly, the trails of blood disappeared, but slowly. He thought his runes hadn't worked again; something here was off if his magic wasn't working properly and for the life of him, he couldn't tell what. That had never happened before after all...
"Merlin, Sal don't do that...wake up, you bastard!" he cried.
Not again, he thought.
It seemed to take an eternity for said Sal to shift slightly before opening his eyes with extreme fatigue and difficulty.
"...I'm sorry... I..." he coughed.
"Shhh... Shhh, spare your strength, don't talk. It wasn't your fault so don't apologize you idiot," he replied, wiping his eyes.
"I should...have seen it coming... Can I..." he raised his hand.
He took his hand in his own.
"I told you to stop talking! If anything, I'm the one who should be sorry!"
His voice broke as he let out a sob, tears finally leaving his eyes to stream down his cheeks. He hadn't let himself break down like this since a really long time.
Since then...
"You're not allowed to leave me, alright? You're gonna make it, I promise you."
He turned his head back to the castle and smiled through his tears. He closed his eyes and drew into the last drop of magic his core held and pushed it onto the ground, knowing it would allow the current residents to know they were on the grounds. Surely Helga had sensed them coming back. It was the plan if something went very wrong, she knew. And this time, things had gone bad, indeed.
He only allowed himself to collapse next to Sal once he saw the door open on a tall silhouette, knowing the two of them would be safe from then on. He closed his eyes, holding the hand of the other man tightly.
We're back home, he thought.
And then, all became dark.
.
.
There were voices around him when he awoke from his slumber. His green eyes shot open as he was very much aware someone was gazing at him. When he turned his head towards the direction of the staring, he saw two twinkling sapphires. He was immediately on his guard, his eyes searching for his mate. Trying to sit up, he was almost immediately forced back down by a strong pain in his abdomen.
"Rest, young man. You're in no condition to stand up," a feminine voice said.
The voice was reassuring, so very much like Helga's, so he unconsciously did as he was told, but his eyes kept searching the room.
"Where is Sal?" he asked with a hoarse voice, and the stranger's eyes kept on twinkling.
"Don't you worry," the old man said, "we have him in good care."
The old man took a step in his direction and he tensed.
Who is he?
"I'd say it's not every day we see a man with such poison running through the veins getting through it. Fortunately, our mediwitch is quite talented," he said curiously, his eyes very sharp.
He let out a relieved sigh he didn't know he was holding at the news. Then he turned back to the old man and blinked a few times, confused.
What does he mean by mediwitch?
He shook his head, focusing on the stranger, probably one of those refugees who came seeking shelter and assistance from them this particular year. The north had taken the worst of the clashes and a lot of people had to leave their home to relocate, at that time.
With all those new mouths to feed, the different languages tended to merge between one another. But that was the first time he'd heard this word. However, he had more important things to worry about right now, like Sal's condition... Yeah, that's right, Sal.
"Can I see him?"
"I'd love to let you, but I think it would be wise for me to ask you your name beforehand."
He narrowed his eyes.
"What would you gain out of it? And I should be the one asking you this question as a matter of fact."
At these words, confusion passed on the old man's face. Then, a soft smile soon replaced the expression, making his eyes even brighter if that was even possible. Though there was a hint of something else here which he couldn't quite point out.
"I guess it would indeed be fair of me to reveal you my own identity first. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Headmaster? By Myrddin! What is this old man babbling about?
Albus looked at him from behind his glasses, eyes curious and encouraging him to do the same. Or was it suspicion? Towards him? Why would anyone be suspicious of him, of all people?
"You..." Godric started before stopping suddenly when a yell resonated in the tiny little room behind white curtains. The windows shook, half breaking under the pressure.
He would recognise this voice and this magic anywhere. And that's also why he worried immediately.
Not again.
He tried getting up again, this time ignoring the searing pain in his chest, but the scream stopped and he noticed immediately a movement out of the corner of his eye.
He stilled, anger running through his entire being. The old man—Albus Dumbledore—had raised his wand.
Without taking his eyes off the man, Godric searched his pockets before realizing he wasn't wearing his own robes anymore.
"I'm sorry my boy, but I had no other choice."
Godric's gaze glowed more menacing as he said in a low tone:
"Where did you put my belongings? How dare you..." He gritted his teeth.
"Okay, stop this right away. I'm fed up of your behaviour. I've had quite the hard day so you'll just let me do whatever I need to do and go back to your duties. I've got no time for your petty—"
To his utter disbelief, he was interrupted.
"Listen my boy..."
Just who is that man was exactly?!
He stopped as a halo of pure power started surrounding him. Godric let his power build up inside him, straight from his core, and the Headmaster could only stare at him, eyes wide in shock and disbelief before his features turned neutral once again, a slight frown lingering on his face. Godric opened his mouth to reply when he heard the scream again, and he tensed once more, the halo fading like it never appeared in the first place.
Without letting the old man the time to recover, he stood up, wincing at the pain in his thorax when he got up too fast and ran to the place the cry came from. Godric set aside the curtains and lost his balance before catching himself at the bed's end after almost falling. His legs were struggling to bear his weight, and he vaguely wondered how long he had been out for. Albus' eyes followed him, his hand clenching his wand tightly, still in shock. This man was powerful, as powerful as himself, maybe more. What the man had displayed proved it too well. As it was, he could certainly be a threat to the castle and its inhabitants.
Sal was lying on the bed, pale and sick into the same white attire he was himself dressed into. A woman stood by his side, an empty potion bottle in one hand, the other resting on her hip. Godric stared at the bottle with fiery eyes. He didn't like the look of it.
Never again.
"What are you..." Godric started before being interrupted by the woman.
"Now, now. I understand it is painful mister, but the poison has to get out of your body one way or another. Now stop acting childish and take your third potion. What were you two even doing to get into such a state?"
She took another potion which was sitting on the bedside table behind her and gave it to Sal—who just stared at it as though he could make it vanish (and he probably could)—before going to the other end of the room to write something on a notebook while muttering things like, "Never saw this before!" to herself. Albus Dumbledore gave him a glance, then turned his gaze to Sal and back at him, approaching tentatively, wand in hand.
After inspecting the vial for a few more seconds, Sal determined it wasn't dangerous and swallowed the potion reluctantly. With a high hiss, he cursed the damn potion which tasted like mud and burned his throat. The woman paled suddenly when hearing that peculiar sound. The Headmaster only twitched his eyebrow, and looked at Sal with narrow eyes, but didn't say a word. Godric walked closer to his mate and dropped at his side. He didn't look like he minded the hiss and took his mate's hand in his own, thumbs rubbing it tenderly.
"I'm sorry..." Sal said, half-averting his gaze.
"Never say that again. It was not your fault," Godric replied softly.
The man gave him a weak smile.
"Bloody Gryffindor."
Despite the smile on his face, Godric could see drops of sweat pearling on his forehead and lifted a hand to touch it. He was burning.
"You've got a fever, Sal."
He let his magic run through his palm to the other man's skin like he was used to. The other closed his eyes and sighed, pleased. Godric smiled slightly when he saw Sal's cheeks taking a darker shade of colour. Their magic had always worked well together.
Sal met his eyes before narrowing them, looking at a place behind his friend's back. Godric followed his gaze and found the old man standing behind him, wand raised. The mediwitch gasped.
"Albus!"
"Forgive me, Poppy, but I find all of this very...intriguing, to say the least." He scratched his beard with his free hand. "Who are you two exactly? How did you get here?"
"That would be... our question to ask, stranger. I never forget a face and I can assure you that I have never seen yours before," replied the said Sal.
That was odd. Sal was one of those who checked the identity of every person who stepped onto Hogwarts' grounds. If they had been successful in their attempt with the time-turner, new faces musn't pop up from nowhere. There was something else playing here.
Sal narrowed his eyes again and he met Godric's, silently sharing their thoughts on the matter. Then, Sal spoke again.
"You better... answer quickly. We have no time to lose in—" He coughed. "—pointless conversation."
Albus pursed his lips. His eyes were no longer twinkling and his grip tightened on his wand. There was just something in the injured man that he was wary of. Something not quite right, but not entirely wrong either. He could sense this man's magic was also extremely powerful. It wasn't a power he'd sensed a lot during the past decades. Not enough on their side of this bloody war, anyway.
Somehow, he knew everything he had to know was there, right in front of him, but he couldn't express the feeling he had. His eye twitched when finally, it hit him.
"Where did you two come from? How did you break through the castle's protections?"
There was a deafening silence before Sal turned to Godric, narrow-eyed. He had never seen him this quiet before. Surely, he was planning to do something. Now was to know when it would come.
Godric was expressionless, but there was something through their connexion that was telling him to prepare himself for the next move. A glint in his eye caught his own gaze.
There it is.
In a pompous gesture, the red-haired man turned around to look directly in the Headmaster's eyes.
"I'd like to thank you, my Lady, for all you've done for us, and for him mainly." He gently pulled on their link a little bit. "We owe you greatly," he said, never looking elsewhere but into the wise blue eyes of the older one.
He bowed his head and then drew his hand in the air. In a swift movement, a golden rune appeared in front of him and both Sal and him disappeared behind a smoky fog. Dumbledore had no time to prevent their escape.
Sighing, he stood there for a while, still confused the two strangers could have Disapparated right in front of him without having answered his questions beforehand. He thought it out. They were still in the castle, that was for sure. He could sense it, but somehow, he couldn't tell where. He frowned at that thought. That wasn't normal. He was supposed to feel through each stone of the castle...
Pomfrey cleared her throat behind him, and he turned to face her. She had a worried look painted on her face.
"What is the matter, Poppy?" he asked her.
She fidgeted, thinking of how to phrase what she was about to reveal.
"I just thought you would like to know those two won't last two days alone in the castle in the state they're in," she replied. "Plus," she continued with a slight blush on her cheeks, "we still have their stuff."
"In this case," Albus continued, "it would indeed be wise to look for them while they are still on the grounds. Without any of the students or teachers knowing of course."
'Especially Umbridge' was left unsaid, but they both knew it.
"Of course," she said.
"Only Severus has to know. I don't want to worry anyone."
Poppy's eyes narrowed. She looked like she wanted to say something else but didn't, leaving the room to the man and all his wise-less schemes.
When the door closed, Albus rubbed his temples and sighed heavily, thinking of a simple way to handle the new and rather bizarre situation.