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The Hell of Fourth Year.
How long have I been asleep? I don't remember going to sleep.
When she felt herself beginning to wake up, she fell into an old pattern where she would wake up slowly and let her other senses tell her what was going on around her.
"I think she's waking up," a woman said.
She mentally frowned to herself. She didn't recognise the voice, and it sounded like an adult's voice; she could definitely hear the warmth and the pity in the woman's voice.
She instinctively reared back. She had never liked pity, it had never helped her in her entire life.
She was certain she had been speaking to someone, but there came a sudden and terrible pain in her eye. What had happened to her eye? Did it have anything to do with her falling to sleep? Fuck, her head hurt…
And then she became aware of something, a strange and unexpected presence in her mind, something she instinctively shied away from with her occlumency barriers, her instinctive desire for privacy and her desire to be left alone made her lash out against the attacker. How dare you come into my mind?! she screamed furiously at her attacker.
In the real world, she heard a voice gasping. "Magic, she is incredibly strong…"
You'd better believe it, pal.
"Well, you did start probing her mind, Sal," another woman pointed out, this one was different from the other. Where the other woman had a motherly quality in her voice, this one had a more formal, cultured voice.
"I know, I was asking for it, but I wasn't expecting that. I think you're right, Helga, she is coming around," the man known as Sal said, sounding more impressed than annoyed.
She decided enough was enough, and she opened her eyes. Or at least she tried to. To her surprise she found only one eye opening, so what had happened to the second?
"Hello, Charlotte Potter," a man's rough but cultured voice greeted, and she looked around and found herself at a tall man dressed in clothes reminiscent of a strange style of wizarding robes which made it look like he was wearing a much more stronger, lighter form while he wore armour which looked both ceremonial and yet capable of holding up against a major fight. The man moved so she couldn't take much of his clothes into account, and she saw the man's face for the first time. He was ruggedly handsome with a short crisp red-brown beard with flecks of silvery grey, dark intense-looking eyes. But the look he was sending her confused her, there was a look of pride and yet sorrow in his eyes.
Charlotte, oh yeah that's my name, she realised.
"Do I know you?" Charlotte asked.
The man gave her a warm, bittersweet smile. "I am Godric Gryffindor."
What?
"But that's impossible unless I've travelled back in time; I know Godric Gryffindor died a thousand years ago," Charlotte snapped.
"I am Godric Gryffindor," the man smiled, not at all put out by the annoyance in the teenager's reply, in fact, he looked downright pleased as if he hadn't had a worthwhile argument ever. He sent her a teasing smile, although it was still marred by the sorrow she could see and recognise. "I remember when you were sorted into my house, and the hat said you belonged in all of the houses, although your cunning and drive to succeed and to survive would have done well in Slytherin, but you wanted to go into Gryffindor to put people off."
Charlotte gaped at him in surprise. "How the fuck could you know that?!"
"Language!" one of the women said, making Charlotte glare at her. The glare made the woman recoil, although Charlotte had no way of realising the reason for the glare.
"I would have loved to have had you in my house."
Charlotte turned to the speaker. It was the other man, Sal, although she guessed Sal stood for Salazar. Salazar Slytherin, the founder of Slytherin house, reputed to be the biggest dark lord in his generation, although Charlotte had never really cared. "Oh, why's that?" she asked dryly.
Slytherin smirked. He was dressed in long dark green robes with black and silvery-white trim, with dark hair that went to the shoulders and green eyes that reminded Charlotte of her own eye colour. "You are quite possibly the most cunning individual to have come to Hogwarts, honed by your years as a thief," Charlotte stiffened at the word, but there was no sign of judgement in the faces of any of the Founders, "there are currently only three Slytherins in your year who belong in my house. Daphne Greengrass, Tracy Davis, and Blaise Zabini. All the others are descendants of people who were once more cunning than the morons nowadays. That boy, Draco Malfoy is a disgrace. He isn't cunning, he's just a pathetic little boy who is trying to play a game and think he is the one running it. But you…you are a true Slytherin. I mean you have spent the past year using that Time Turner you copied from that muggle-born who betrayed you long ago, and no-one has caught on."
Charlotte was by now convinced these people were the Founders. But she wondered if this was a weird dream…
"Oh, this is no dream," one of the women said and Charlotte turned her attention towards her. She was a tall, beautiful woman with raven black tresses and deep blue eyes, wearing long robes of dark blue. "Rowena Ravenclaw."
Charlotte quirked a brow, noticing the woman's almost dismissive tone. She shrugged mentally. She didn't really care if the individual founders liked her or not. It wasn't her problem.
She quickly realised these people could see or hear her thoughts, which didn't make sense because Salazar had tried to read her own mind, but she had forced him out, so she didn't understand how the Founders could pick up on her thoughts.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"We have been noticing what Dumbledore has been doing at the school for a long time. We have decided enough is enough," the second woman said, looking at Charlotte kindly, but Charlotte regarded her with distrust. So few people had ever been kind to her, and she had spent her entire life regarding those who were kind but ended up lying and misleading her with distrust. It was hard to shake off, even though all of her instincts, which had been pushed further after everything that had happened the last few years, had sharpened.
"Why now?" Charlotte challenged. "The old bastard has been meddling in peoples' lives for years, why come out of the woodwork now?"
"Because of what has just happened to you."
"What do you mean, what happen-?" Charlotte paused as memories came back with the force of a killing curse fired from a speeding High-Speed train. "Oh, my God!" she whispered in horror as the memory of the confrontation with Bones filled her head and the terrific and nightmarish scenario of a flash of pain which was far worse than anything the Dursleys had done by comparison, she remembered seeing her blood pooling in her hands, but she had been too horrified by what had happened to truly understand the implications.
She slowly reached up a shaking hand to her eye, and she felt a wad of some kind of gauze on her face.
"My….my eye! The bitch….she's destroyed my eye!" Charlotte began to shake.
The woman Founder whom Charlotte knew was Helga Hufflepuff stepped forward, but the sudden movement made the teenager shy back. She ignored the look of hurt on the woman's face. She didn't care if she hurt their feelings, she was angry and in agony. And besides, after the last few weeks of being treated like shit by every house, including her former house, she wasn't particularly interested in anything the Founders had to say although a part of her wanted to find out what they wanted.
But all she wanted was to rest and find someone qualified to help her.
"Go away," she spat.
"I can help you. I'm a Healer-."
"Oh, I've had enough of Hogwarts healing standards to last a lifetime, especially since the current healer barred me."
"That was because of Dumbledore; the Headmaster has the power to order it, although this is a flagrant misuse of the power," Helga said, looking down sadly for a moment, but when she looked up Charlotte was surprised to see the woman's expression was as furious as she felt. "I am so sorry that members of my House did this to you, only for this to happen."
"I bet you are," Charlotte spat. "Hufflepuff has been disdained for years and years. They have never had the type of elevated role Cedric Diggory's given them, after coming out of that damn goblet. Why should I trust you?"
Helga bit her lip, fighting her desire to lose her temper with the girl. She needed to remind herself she needed to careful with the girl. Salazar had claimed the girl was like a wounded animal, furious and hurt, ready to lash out. "Because they are not true Hufflepuffs. If Susan Bones had been allowed to inform you of the Alliance which you're aware of, then she would have defended you to the hilt, and she would never have done this."
Charlotte wondered for a moment if her stance on the Alliance had been the right one after all, but she knew it was too late now. She wondered if she had told the members she wasn't interested but did want to be friendly and that Dumbledore, Weasley, and Granger were the ones blocking and meddling in the Alliance it would have done some good.
But it was just…too late. There was nothing she could do about it anymore.
"It wasn't your fault, Charlotte," Gryffindor said softly, gently walking forward and putting a consolatory hand on Helgas' shoulder. "You didn't know if you could trust the alliance, especially after growing up on your own-!"
"STOP THAT, FUCKING STOP THAT!" Charlotte screeched, ignoring the pain in her head at the screech. "Stop saying these things, stop rooting through my brain!"
"We can't help it," Ravenclaw said, stepping forward this time, looking at her with that neutral manner Charlotte had never really seen in many of the Ravenclaws, however, there was something in her eyes Charlotte could not identify at this point. It reminded the girl of sympathy and worry. "Your mind is linked to Hogwarts, even with your mental barriers. We did this so then we could understand the events of the world from the perspective of the students."
Charlotte shook her head, fighting off the waves of dizziness.
"Listen, Charlotte; you've been through a great deal. You are tired, and you are hurt," Slytherin softly said; Charlotte wasn't sure why, but she found something comforting about this man, this Founder even if the members of his house were scum. "But you need serious medical attention. I know you don't have any reason to trust us," he carried on diplomatically, thankful he at least was the one speaking; Godric would mean well, but his friend and co-Founder would have said something unimaginably stupid and thoughtless. "But we can help you. Hogwarts has failed you so many times in the past. But please, let us help now."
"For what it's worth," Helga began, looking at Charlotte fiercely. "I find my House a disgrace."
"We all do," Ravenclaw said, looking solemnly at Charlotte.
Charlotte looked at the Founders torn. On the one hand, she didn't want to trust them, but at the same time, she felt she didn't have that many options. She didn't know if she could get through to Dobby or Winky, and she didn't really want to put herself at the mercy of the magical hospital she had heard of in the time she had been here.
"Alright," she said, "I'll trust you…."
Helga lifted her wand gently, but before Charlotte could do anything, she felt herself lulled to sleep.
XXX
Godric lifted his head as Salazar and Helga came in, both of them looking solemn and grim. "How is she?" she asked in concern.
"We got her in the Healing bath. She'll be immersed for a few hours, and we've managed to remove the remains of her eye. I can use them to create a clone to replace the one she lost," Helga reported quietly, looking down before she burst out angrily. "What was that stupid child thinking when she used that curse?"
"She wasn't," Rowena had her arms folded. "None of the students use their common sense nowadays. Dumbledore has started a nasty trend where only he should be the one to think, nobody else should."
None of the Founders said anything about that. Although they had always had concerns about some of Dumbledore's ideologies and philosophy, they had felt he was a powerful wizard and he had been good at what he had done, but all that had changed when he became Headmaster. Ordinarily, they would have denied him the role, but Dumbledore was the only one powerful enough for the job, and back then he hadn't been as thoughtless, but what had allowed him to stay as Headmaster was he was invested to protect the students.
Unfortunately, Dumbledore liked the idea of being in virtual charge of the Magical side of Britain, and he had started removing one subject after another, deeming them unnecessary. They knew he had done it primarily to ensure nobody knowledgeable came along and threatened his position. It had worked since Hogwarts educational standards had dropped significantly, but what was worse was how the students were never punished for anything serious. Dumbledore had this weird philosophy of forgiveness where he would turn a blind eye to what was going on, and the students would feel entitled to do more. It got worse when you thought of how this policy went out into the greater magical community. The Founders knew young witches and wizards felt they could do anything, and they would get away with it. What was worse was those around them simply did not have the mindset or the ability to do anything about it.
Dumbledore had ruined Britain. Not only was the education sub-standard, but he had ruined how young students should turn out. There had been many cases over the years when this policy had caused a lot of damage, but the incident between Charlotte and Susan Bones was a rare event. There was no doubt in the Founder's minds Dumbledore would not change his policies. He had enacted on them for years, and he saw no reason to stop since the long term benefits of turning a blind eye would make people look to him for help.
"This cannot go on," Godric shook his head, but his hand also shook with the repressed rage he was feeling at the thought of the young people who had passed through Hogwarts, only for them to be hurt by Dumbledore's policies. "This has been happening for years, but we have done nothing. We are supposed to defend the school, no matter if our real selves are dead."
"The only way we can stop this is if we come out into the open," Rowena said, "but to do that, we would need to completely alter the perception of everyone out there. That would take a long time before we make any headway."
"Our minds have been in Hogwarts for centuries, I think we can handle it, Rowena," Helga pointed out, making Rowena nod in agreement.
"I think one of the first things which should be changed should be how Hogwarts is run," Salazar began before he sat down and looked seriously at his fellow Founders. "Think about it; when we began the project to create and Found this school, we set up our houses in order to shape the magical elite. But what if we had made a mistake? Let me finish, please Godric," he added when he noticed Godric beginning to open his mouth. "Our Houses have become stereotyped."
"He's right," Helga nodded gravely. "Gryffindor is seen as brave and brash, but they have become nothing more than a House of bullies who think they are serving the Light by attacking Slytherin students, some of which just want to study and become healers or researchers, only to make the Slytherins become darker. My House….it's bad enough everyone thinks I took only the leftovers, when in fact I wanted the hard-working and loyal people, but now they've lost their way, and now they're loyal only to themselves."
"And my House is filled with bigots because Arthur sorted them there because they had nowhere else to go," Salazar shook his head in sorrow at what had happened to his house. "It was bad enough when Tom Riddle went through his years there, creating that thing as he had, but now it's even worse. The disease of his so-called teachings, everyone believing he's doing what he's done in my name… it's enough to make anyone sick."
"My House is no different. None of the Ravenclaws uses their knowledge, none of them even try to think outside of the box," Rowena commented, "there's a third-year girl. Luna Lovegood. She is shunned by the others, bullied for being different…and yet in my day, she would have been a star. I admit, I like a good book or text, but I always thought outside of the box. The worst of it is Ravenclaw has been this way for decades. I think Salazar is right; we have to do something about the Houses."
"I think they should be abolished," Salazar said.
The Founders looked at one another. Although their minds were separate, they were connected to one another, and they knew how everyone was thinking about the whole scenario.
"Do you think we should go that far?" Godric asked. "I mean what do we replace the Houses with? It took us a long time to work out the best way to educate the students was to place them in Houses where their minds were best suited and educate them on the way."
"I think you should abolish the Houses," a deep voice announced gravely, and they looked up and saw the portrait of the Sorting Hat.
"Arthur?" Rowena said. "What's your take on this?"
The Sorting Hat sighed. "It's failed, My Lady. Hogwarts….has failed. Every year I sing the Houses should be united, but each year my words go unheeded; one or two students do mix with others from different Houses, but otherwise, there is nothing. This latest year has proven to be disastrous. Dumbledore is currently in his office discussing with the other teachers," the Hat sniffed to make his opinion of the teachers known, "on the best way to make young Charlotte Potter forgive. It won't work. You all know what the mind of that girl is like."
The Founders muttered their agreement.
"Matters are worse. In the past decade, the hatred between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins have made it impossible for the school to be run the way any sane individual would expect a school to be run," the Sorting Hat went on.
"Not helped by my so-called descendant," Slytherin shook his head and scoffed. "I never had any relation with the Gaunt family, and yet that disgusting creature who calls himself my Heir thinks he's doing everything he has done in my name but in truth, he's only interested in lashing out at anyone he has perceived as being nasty to him or whom he has never liked."
"For better or for worse, our Houses have shaped the course of this country's magical history," Rowena observed, "but has it been for better or for worse?"
No-one answered her. They all knew the question was rhetorical, but the implications of what was being stated were hard for them to take. They would need to spend some time debating and thinking about it.
