A/N: A random crossover that came to me while I was watching Bedknobs and Broomsticks.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Bedknobs and Broomsticks.
The Letters
"Whazzat?" Charles asked, plopping down on the bottom step and watching as Ms. Price sat down at the table with a thick stack of what looked like parchment.
"They appear to be letters," Ms. Price replied. Loud footsteps and the banging of a door echoed down from the upstairs landing, and Charles turned to see Paul and Carrie descending the stairs. His sister and brother looked at him curiously, and he pointed to the table where Ms. Price was carefully unfolding one of the letters.
"Please don't make such racket, children," she said absentmindedly as she scanned over the parchment, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"What is it?" Paul queried, stepping around Charles and walking up to stand beside the woman's chair. He stood up on his tiptoes, peering at the florid handwriting. "Who's Row-eyna?" he asked.
"I've no idea, Paul," Ms. Price replied.
"But that's her letter," Paul protested. Ms. Price nodded.
"Indeed, it is, Paul. But look at this date," she said, pointing at the top corner of the page. "She's long dead by now. There's no harm in us reading it, learning a bit about the past."
"What's it say, then?" Charles asked, getting up and striding quickly over to stand behind his brother. Carrie followed only a few steps behind.
"Yes, do read it," she said, placing one hand on Paul's shoulder and the other on the back of Ms. Price's chair. The woman glanced over her glasses at the children then returned her attention to the letter before clearing her throat and beginning to read.
"'Dear Rowena…'"
I write this letter to you in the worst of times. My dispute with Salazar has grown so that I nearly have not had time to contact you. Indeed, I must ask that you pass word along to Helga, as it would not be safe for me to send out more than one owl.
It has been a long while since I last heard from you, and I do hope the school is doing well. I do hope our choice of instilling consciousness within that old hat of mine is a suitable replacement for our own work of placing the students in the houses.
I write this letter merely to inform you that I am doing my best to ease Salazar's qualms, though he will not listen much to reason.
"'My best to Helga and the school, Godric Gryffindor.' Well, that seems to be about it," Ms. Price concluded.
"That's an awful short letter, Ms. Price," Carrie said, solemnly. Ms. Price nodded.
"What's all that rubbish about puttin' consciousness in a hat?" Charles asked, Carrie swiftly slapped his shoulder. "What's that for?"
"You've seen stationary objects move about, Charlie," she insisted, "how hard is it to believe people can put consciousness into a hat?"
"This one's to you, Ms. Price," Paul said, interrupting the skirmish and drawing all attention to himself as he held out the thick envelope. Ms. Price took it and peered down at the lettering across the front.
"It is indeed, Paul," she said. She pulled the letter it contained roughly out of it and unfolded it.
"What's it say?" Charles asked impatiently. Ms. Price shot him a glare.
"If you cannot be patient, I simply won't read it," she said. "It is, after all, addressed to me."
"Oh, do read it," Carrie insisted. "Don't pay any mind to Charlie, he's always like this."
"Very well," Ms. Price replied. She cleared her throat and began to read. "'My dearest Eglantine,'"
"Eglantine?" Charles snorted, Carrie slapped his shoulder once more before Ms. Price would continue.
"'My dearest Eglantine,'…"
It has been brought to my attention by a Seer who lives down the road from me that you will not be allowed to discover your power until much later in life than most witches and wizards. This fact saddens me, as I know it would sadden your great-great-great grandmother, Rowena Ravenclaw.
She was one of the founders of a glorious school known as Hogwarts, a school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The school was founded by four individuals, Helga Hufflepuff, Salazar Slytherin, and Godric Gryffindor were the other three besides Rowena.
The information that was given me was that the heirs of those three founders would one day be in your care, so I've taken great pains to preserve all of Rowena's correspondence with them as well as write this letter to you to assist you in their care.
Much love.
"Much love from who?" Paul asked.
"My mother," Ms. Price replied, setting the letter carefully aside. She slipped her glasses off and laid them on the table before rubbing her hands over her face. The children watched her intently, waiting for her to return to the letters. After she let out a long sigh, she replaced her glasses and flipped through the remaining stack. Before she could choose one to read, however, Paul piped up.
"Does that mean that we're the heirs of those wizards?" he asked
"Witch and wizards," Carrie corrected. "Remember?" Paul nodded
"Well?" Charles asked. "Does it."
"I don't know, my mother did not say," Ms. Price replied, pulling a letter from the stack
"Is there another from your mother, maybe?" Carrie prompted. Ms. Price scanned the letters, but shook her head.
"No, Carrie, but this one is from that Salazar fellow," she said. Carrie shivered.
"I don't like the sound of him," she breathed.
"Of course you don't," Charles said. "you're silly."
"Children," Ms. Price stated simply before opening the letter and reading it.
Dear Rowena,
My deepest apologies for not staying in touch, Godric has been unrelenting in his insistence that I follow his rules. His closed minded belief that he is the one who is right, and the way he grasps that belief with all his might are what have driven me from the school.
I regret my inability to watch our students grow and learn, to see my own house gain those clever students who belong there. I do regret all that, and I do wish I could make this letter longer, but I must hurry for fear that Godric has located me.
I am writing, first and foremost, Rowena, to ensure that that blasted hat is indeed placing only the most cunning and deserving of students in Slytherin. The last thing I desire is for my name to be tarnished.
-Slazar Slytherin.
"He sounds a bit like you, Charlie," Carrie teased, Charles glared at her and she merely laughed. "Then again, Paul's much more cunning than you'll ever be. Perhaps he's Slytherin's heir."
"I don't want to be his heir," Paul grumbled.
"Why ever not?" Charles queried sharply. "He sounds right smart to me. Checkin' up on his house and all that."
"You would say that, wouldn't you?" Carrie said with a sigh.
"Children," Ms. Price insisted, setting aside Slytherin's letter and pulling another towards her.
"Who's this one from?" Paul asked.
"Helga Hufflepuff," Ms. Price replied, looking down at the signature on the letter. "Let's see what she has to say."
Rowena,
Your loyalty to Slazar is astounding. Have you read none of Godric's letters? In all honesty, I cannot understand how you can uphold his actions so, as though he were in the right all along. Do you not remember what he wanted to make this school? All he wanted to do?
Oh, Rowena, I admire your wit and your knowledge, but I cannot admire your loyalty. An odd thing, considering loyalty such as this is what I am so well known for. But, still, Salazar has proved again and again that he is not worthy of our loyalty or our friendship.
If you ask me, Rowena, Godric was right to drive him away.
You friend,
Helga Hufflepuff
"Loyalty, eh?" Charles asked. "Like me?"
"If anyone here is loyal, Charles," Ms. Price countered, "it would have to be Paul."
"So, that leaves me for Godric?" Carrie asked. Ms. Price nodded thoughtfully, but Charles let out a shout of protest.
"We never agreed I was Salazar," he insisted. Carrie rolled her eyes and Ms. Price sighed.
"All of these are guesses, Charles," she said.
"Carrie's the loyal one," Paul said. "Ms. Price is smart and clever, Charles is sneaky and Cunning-"
"Well, he tries to be," Carrie muttered under her breath, earning her a smack on the shoulder from Charles.
"Hush, let Paul finish," Ms. Price said.
"What's Godric known for?" Paul asked quietly. Ms. Price sifted through the letters, scanning them quickly in the strong silence that hovered around them.
"Ah ha," she finally announced. "Here it is, bravery."
"That isn't any of us," Paul said.
"Than who would it be?" Carrie asked. A knock came at the door before it swung open, revealing the tall, mustached form of Emelius Brown. The children stared at him for a moment before glancing at each other and laughing.
"Nah," Charles said. "No way."
"Children, go to your room," Ms. Price said sternly, gathering up the letters into one pile. She rose and went to greet the now confused looking Emelius where he stood in the doorway, while the children traipsed back up the stairs, chattering away about Hogwarts and its founders.