Author's note: Oh my god I'm sorry, it's another Godric chapter. I promise the next one will be Rowena!
AND IN THEIR TRIUMPH DIE
chapter nine
At An Impasse
They wanted to draft a proper proposal for the Council. They all knew that what they were suggesting was unheard of, and it was a daunting task. When they went to the Council, they wanted to have a thorough plan for the school. Godric had every intention of following through with their plan regardless of what the Council said, but it would be nice to have their support. He had attended Council meetings on behalf of the Gryffindor family since his father's death…it was a weak organization, with little power these days—both politically and magically. But in a time of persecution, Godric felt it was necessary to have some sort of community support system, some sort of stronghold for the Wizarding community.
Godric, Salazar, Helga, and Rowena had three weeks to prepare, and evenings at Penfryn found the four of them sitting at Helga's table, sharing tea and wine and discussing everything from accommodations for the school to class plans.
They all enjoyed discussing what sort of things they ought to teach their students…and Helga's refugees were just as interested. Often Helga would rise from her seat and point to the stairs, where one or more of the children were eavesdropping. She would sternly command them back to bed and they would scurry up the stairs, groaning in disappointment. Sometimes Helga let Evander and Leona help with the organization and recording of notes, but it made the younger children quite jealous.
The Four were up quite late one night to establish the basic foundations of the school itself. The more they talked about it, the more they felt that they would need nothing short of a castle, a fortress. While this seemed daunting, Salazar kept insisting that if they were going to do this, they weren't going to do it half way. He and Godric assured the ladies that their funds could support the construction of a castle…but they needed an architect. Someone with magical talent—they didn't want to wait on Muggle construction. They decided students would live at the school during study terms, and they would be separated more or less by gender and age.
They spent nearly a full week deciding what classes they would teach at the school, and who would teach these classes. There was a good deal of inadvertent flattering of one another, and some agonizingly-honest self-evaluation. At long last there was a rough agreement:
Clearly there should be classes for some of the most fundamental and widespread uses of magic, such as Charms and Potions. Godric, Salazar, and Rowena all felt that Helga should look after potions, since she was so proficient at it, and Helga thought that potions could not be fully understood without some sort of knowledge of Herbology. She offered to teach this as well. Helga convinced Rowena that she was perfectly talented at Charms, and Rowena should teach it.
Rowena agreed, but only if she could also teach some very fundamental lessons such as reading, writing and Arithmancy. Many of their students might come to them without the ability to read and write, and at the very least, they should have those life skills. The four of them decided that perhaps some of these topics could be covered in just one or two classes, and put the matter aside to clarify later.
They all wanted to include lessons in basic magical theory, feeling it was important for students to understand the fundamentals—and the mental and physiological aspects of magic, but they were undecided as to the best way to present this subject.
There was a slightly wary and lengthy discussion about the matter of Dark Arts. Helga and Rowena had almost no experience in the matter, and looked to Godric and Salazar. Helga was somewhat hesitant to have it as a subject at all, but Godric and Salazar both supported it, saying the students needed to understand it so they could defend themselves if necessary. Helga agreed on that point. Godric looked to Salazar and they awkwardly dove into a discussion about their own range of knowledge on the subject. They'd both read about the craft, they'd both encountered Dark Arts in combat...but could either of them teach it? They entertained the idea of possibly just establishing a class on combat and incorporating defenses against the Dark Arts, but in the end they became two separate subjects. Salazar volunteered to teach a Defense Against the Dark Arts course, and Godric would teach a dueling and combat class. They both agreed to collaborate with one another on both subjects.
It was also settled that Godric was the best choice to teach Transfiguration, but he requested some study time with Rowena and Salazar on basic alchemy before he started. None of them felt they had enough knowledge about magical creatures to teach a class, and the subject was put on the wayside for the time being. This led to a debate on whether or not they should bring in outside teachers, and this was also left to be decided upon later.
Then a very important matter was brought up: how were they going to find magical children to offer a place at the school? And what sort of students were they going to accept?
Helga furrowed her brow when the question was raised. "Why, all of them. All magical children that we can."
"All of them?" repeated Salazar.
"Well, why not?"
Salazar ran his hand over his mouth, his grey eyes on the tabletop. He was choosing his words carefully. "What we're offering is extremely valuable…I feel it should be somewhat exclusive."
There was a contemplative pause, and Rowena tilted her head thoughtfully. "Well…it should be any students who are intelligent enough for the learning, aye? Students who really…desire to learn what we have to teach them."
Godric sat back in his chair, thinking that over. They both had a point. The Four of them were providing an opportunity that many young witches and wizards would give their wand arm for. They'd had discussions already about the issue of secrecy and persecution…if witches and wizards were to become more learned, more powerful…they would have to acknowledge their talents and risk Muggle discrimination.
But it should be worth it. If the students really wanted to learn, they would think it was worth the risk. "Any students who are brave enough to take this on."
"Brave enough?" repeated Salazar.
Godric put his fingertip to the table to punctuate his words. "If we do this, if we ask children to leave their homes and come to learn from us…we're asking them to officially leave life in the Muggle society. To acknowledge what they are. That's going to take courage. If they can face that choice, they can do anything."
Helga nodded slowly. "That is true."
"I can solve that problem," said Sal. "We should take only those of pure blood. From the old families."
Godric frowned. "What? Why?"
"That's preposterous! That would rule out almost every one of those children upstairs!" argued Helga.
"I'm not saying right away," reasoned Salazar. "And I'm certainly not saying to exclude your children, Helga. But it's something we should focus on."
Godric was looking at Salazar hard now, surprised to hear this. Suddenly he felt daunted in a different way; he had a strange feeling that they had encountered something bad in their plans. "Why?" he asked again.
Godric, Helga, and Rowena were all looking at Salazar, who continued to explain. "We know the children of pure-blooded families will have magical talent. We can identify them. We also know that their families will most likely consent to them coming to the school. What good is it to teach Muggle-born children, who are just going to return to Muggle families and marry Muggles, and not even use their magic? Or have it snuffed out of them? If we're investing in magical education, we should be doing so with those students most likely to use it and to help promote magical capability amongst our kind."
"And what about children like Evander and Elyssa, and Shireen?" demanded Godric. "What about all of the young witches and wizards born to Muggles, who will never understand their own talents? Who will never know what they are?"
Salazar met Godric's eyes and spread his hands. "Their lives won't change. It's not ideal, but that's how we're going to preserve magic."
Godric shook his head, jaw slack. "Salazar…I don't…what's the difference? What's the difference between a wizard who is Muggle-born and a wizard who is not?"
"Their Muggle blood is the difference!"
"And that makes them inferior?" said Godric, voice rising.
"Perhaps not in talent," said Salazar. "But it does in blood."
Godric was angry now, like he never thought he would be with Salazar. Helga was frowning like they'd never seen before, and Rowena had a guarded look on her face. She shook her head.
"That's awful, Salazar," she said quietly.
Salazar turned a hard gaze to hers. "Maybe so. But it's true." Rowena did not shrink back, but she did not propagate an argument with Salazar. Godric knew how imposing Salazar's gaze could be, but he wasn't one to back down.
Godric hit his hand to the table, making them all look back at him. "I'll be damned if we exclude any magical child just because of who their family is—because of matters beyond their control!" he barked, pointing a finger severely at Salazar. "And as long as my fortune is going into this project I will not allow students to be turned away because of their birth!"
Salazar shook his head. "You're letting your emotions govern you, not your logic."
And then Godric was on his feet. "I'm letting my decency govern me, Salazar. We will not turn students away from this school."
Salazar looked away from Godric, to his goblet of wine. He sighed and drained the cup before rising to his feet as well. "I see I am overruled in this," he said. "And since having a bad taste in one's mouth leads to little in the way of productive conversation, I'll bid you good night."
He turned and left the house, stepping into the night and closing the door behind him.
Helga frowned, concerned. "Is he…leaving?"
Godric said nothing, but followed Salazar out of the house, scowling.
Helga and Rowena were left alone in the kitchen, the air heavy with bad feelings. Helga drained her own cup of wine, shaking her head.
"Bugger that," she said. "I'll take the lot of them, and teach them all the same."
Godric stormed after Salazar, who was strolling towards the sleeping village. He heard Godric behind him, however, and turned to face him.
"I didn't know you were of like mind with the Galts," said Godric coldly.
Salazar bristled, his eyes flashing. "The Galts were murderous and cruel," he growled. "And they wasted their gifts. I am not those men."
"But you agree with them? You think Muggles and Muggle-borns are inferior?"
Salazar was thoughtful for a moment. "I think…they're different."
Godric was flooded with an immense disappointment, a hurt, even. He felt foolish and naïve…he'd thought he'd found a companion, he'd thought he'd built a team that could actually make their ideas a reality….
But another part of him argued back. He knew the sort of person Salazar was, even if he didn't know every detail. Salazar was not cruel. There was something…some reason…
"Where is this coming from, Salazar?" he asked, voice softening. "Why are you…afraid of teaching Muggle-borns?"
Salazar was silent, and even in the darkness, Godric could see that his expression was hard. "Sal—"
"Because I don't want us to die out."
Godric was quiet this time, unsure of how to respond to that. "What do you mean, die out?" he asked after a few moments.
Salazar looked back at him, stepping closer. "What do you think is going to happen if we encourage Muggle-borns to mix with us? What do you think happens when Muggle blood mixes with magical blood?"
Godric frowned. "Nothing. Some people are born magical, some aren't."
Salazar shook his head, pushing his hair out of his face. It was growing a little longer than when Godric had first met him, and was now a very dark sort of blond, almost brown. Godric pushed him.
"I heard it said that your own grandmother was a Muggle. And you're just fine. Is that true?"
"My brother is a Squib," said Salazar. The words stumbled from his lips, as though they were difficult to say.
"A Squib?"
"My father was a wizard. My mother was a witch. But my brother doesn't have a drop of magic in him. Not at all."
Another silence hung between them. Godric was surprised, and he could tell this was not something Salazar wished to divulge. He'd hardly ever spoken of his family before now.
Godric said gently, "Sal…that's just an oddity…"
"It's because my grandmother's Muggle blood runs in his veins!" insisted Salazar. His eyes narrowed. "My mother and father tried so hard to coax out his magical talent, but he had none. My father never wanted to admit it. Not even at his death, he would not see it. He was hard on my brother…my mother said he pushed him too hard. She always doted on Sandro, and Sandro begged her for months and months to try different spells, to try to find some way of bestowing her magic upon him…She loved him, she would do anything for her poor little Squib son. So she found a spell. Blood magic, meant to pass her abilities into Sandro…. But the magic was too advanced, too unstable. It rebounded and killed her."
Godric stared at Salazar, quiet and grave.
"When I came into the room there was blood everywhere. On the walls, on the rug, on Sandro…I got my hands around his throat and might have killed him too if my father hadn't stopped me. He screamed at me for attacking my brother, even after seeing his wife dead on the floor. I was disowned and ordered off of the estate." Salazar shook his head, his fingers twitching at the memory, as though they remembered closing around Sandro's throat.
"Then…how did you…?"
Salazar looked back up at him. "How did I acquire my inheritance? My father was weak. Dying. I had the will changed before he passed. I named myself heir once more."
"And your brother?"
"Exiled, as I was."
Godric frowned a little. But he thought of his own mother, and wondered what kind of fury he might have felt if someone were personally responsible for her death… And he could tell that Salazar was sincere in his concerns about the mixing of Muggle and magical blood. Godric truly thought cases like Sandro must be rarities, but he saw how anxious the thought made Salazar, he understood why. Most of all, Godric hurt for his friend.
Godric stepped closer to Sal, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder. Salazar looked up at him, and he saw something on Salazar's face…perhaps relief.
"I hear your worries, Sal," said Godric. "And if someone had caused my mother's death, I…" he let the words trail off, shaking his head. Then he met Salazar's gaze once more. "I can't promise it'll be perfect. But are you still with us, Sal?"
Salazar put his hand over Godric's, sighing tiredly. "Of course I am. I told you I would see this through. I'm just…concerned. And not just about the school…."
Godric smiled. "Don't worry yourself, Sal. Trust me. I know what I'm doing."
Salazar rolled his eyes and gave a small smile, the way Godric knew he would. "Of course you do."
