Let's Do It Right This Time, Chapter 21: Parselwards
After leaving Draco behind, Aurelius stalked through the halls of Hogwarts in an uncertain temper, still fuming after his meeting with the headmaster. Condescending patronizing miserable old goat! He didn't even have the decency to admit he was wrong!
And not only that, either- the other students were driving him insane!
The Gryffindors were acting almost like they had in the last time, when he had been the Chosen One; it seemed as if their entire worldview had been altered by the sudden realization that yes, Slytherins could be noble, while meanwhile the Slytherins were tiptoeing around him, knowing that what he had done in the Great Hall was only the tip of the iceburg. The Hufflepuffs were going starry eyed and stopping him in the halls to tell him how noble he was, and the Ravenclaws wanted to know exactly what he had done and how. And Aurelius just wanted some peace and quiet, seeing as he was still trying to figure out how to break into the ward-room so he could complete the task the Sorting Hat had given him; namely, he needed to reinstate the parselwards of Hogwarts.
He had been doing some research in the library, as well as in his own private books, and the method and application of the wards was not actually that hard, especially when one considered how difficult the subject of warding was in general. He had full confidence that he could cast the wards correctly...but he still had to break into the ward-room, preferably without Dumbledore's knowledge and interference. It would help if he knew where the ward-room even was...
And then something occurred to him. He had been thinking about the Battle of Hogwarts- it was rather hard not to when he was in the location at which it had taken place night and day- and he'd suddenly remembered his conversation with The Grey Lady. Of course! The ghosts would know where the ward-room just as the staff would...and they would be more likely to keep his secrets, especially if he was going to approach the Bloody Baron, as was his plan. They were under no obligation to answer to any one headmaster- only the castle- and since he was going to be putting up wards to protect the students, and since the Bloody Baron didn't seem to talk to anyone who was not a Slytherin, he would likely be able to get the information he needed.
And so, with that thought in mind, he approached the faintly shimmering figure in a stretch of corridor where there were no paintings to eavesdrop on what he was about to say.
"Baron? May I speak to you?"
A nod. The Baron did not appear to be talkative today.
"I was wondering..." Aurelius paused to cast several auror-level silencing charms. "Where is the ward-room?"
"Why do you wish to know, young serpent?" asked the Baron in his gravelly, rarely-used voice, sounding intrigued and vaguely amused. Aurelius thought that this might be the most stimulation he had had for a few centuries or so, considering how few living people ever approached him. "Are you attempting to undermine the headmaster?"
"Well, you could say that. If you could even call that twinkling bastard headmaster. More like puppet-master."
If a ghost could start, Aurelius had no doubt that the Baron would have. Evidently that was not the answer that he had been expecting.
"That and I want to put the anti-rape parselwards back up."
"And nothing else?"
"Nothing harmful. I might need to lay a few more protection wards, depending on how many Headmaster Nigellus took down."
The ghost stared at him, empty black eyes looking through him as if to judge his sincerity. Finally he nodded. "This has never been done in the history of Hogwarts, but I sense this is necessary for the coming war, and the headmaster is not doing his duty. I will take you there," he rasped. "But I will watch what you cast- if you cast anything harmful, I will stop you."
"Agreed," Aurelius responded, and the Baron began to float on down said corridor, leading him into the very heart of the castle. And then he was in the ward-room for the first time.
The very air throbbed with Ancient magic, so powerful and so heavy that Aurelius felt faint and ill with it's intensity. He could feel the distinct "flavors" of the magic- the multifaceted strands of power that had been laid by hundreds of headmasters over the years, to protect their students, the occasional shimmer of an addition placed by the staff, and the achingly powerful magic of the Founders. And that's when he realized, almost subconsciously, what was wrong. He could feel only the faintest shimmer of parselmagic.
He could tell that it had once afforded more than half of the protections on Hogwarts. He could sense the power and passion that Salazar had poured into these protections, the good, if dark, magic which had once bathed the castle in protective power.
It was a crime, desecration of the magic of the Founders, that the wards had been taken down- and not just taken down, but ripped down, leaving shreds of useless parselmagic. Harry began to flush with anger. How dare they. How dare they risk harm to their students by taking down protective wards merely because they had been cast by the wrong person, or cast in the wrong language!
Aurelius's angry magic flared, fuming as he realized that if the wards had been up, his mother would never have been taken advantage of and trapped into marriage. HE COULD HAVE HAD A REAL FAMILY, A GOOD FATHER! Aurelius was vaguely aware that he was literally glowing. But at last, cognizent of the fact that he might alert Dumbledore or the staff of what he was doing if he blew up the ward room, he drew in his magic with a visible effort and forced himself to focus, to sense the magic again, to let the awareness of the wards fill him and sink into his very pores.
Warm, bubbling, buttery magic, magic that filled the air with a gentle glow, that cleaned the laundry and the halls, the magic that gave the castle semi-sentience and kept all the trains running on time. Hufflepuff.
Powerful, rich, strong, noble magic, magic that made the walls impenetrable to attack and kept the classrooms reasonably safe, safer than they should be in a school full of volatile students, magic which warded off any outward attack, that protected students from their own stupid rashness. Bold, confrontational, proud magic, lying heavily over the castle, protecting it from dark creatures and even darker magics. Gryffindor.
Austere, cool, analytical magic, thrumming like harp strings after a song, the magic which addressed the Hogwarts letters and did the paperwork. Spells which cataloged all the magic cast in the halls, which logged the library books out or in or missing, which made sure that the archives were protected and that the exams were free of cheating. Ravenclaw.
Shreds, the merest shreds of passionate, powerful, compassionate, protective wards, wards meant to protect students from their families, from their teachers, from each other. Wards to sense the intent of a teacher, and send that information to the headmaster- even to cast him out on his arse if necessary. Wards to prevent rape, to prevent dueling in empty classrooms after hours, to prevent poisons from being used and to prevent attackers in disguise from entering the castle. Wards to prevent abuse, to prevent suicide. Slytherin.
There were many other wards here too, but all of them built off of the first layer...and thus the parselwards had no foundation, and hung uselessly in the air, mere decomposing strips of magic.
And so Aurelius straightened, pulled out his book on warding and set it on the wardstone to read it, and began to cast...and cast...and cast. He repaired all the wards that Salazar had cast and more, and he set the newer wards back on their foundation, and he cast new ones, relishing the rich feel of the magic as it slid wandlessly through his fingers, enjoying the sibilance of the parseltongue flowing from his lips. The Baron watched in nearly-concealed shock as he let himself go, forgetting himself, forgetting his perceived age, losing himself in the magic.
The old ghost knew then that this was no student, but he knew that this...wizard...was also not a threat, not when he was casting protective wards as though his life depended on it...and maybe it did. He seemed to be, if anything, a guardian of Hogwarts, reincarnated, and the Baron resolved to watch and say nothing.
At last, Aurelius sank to his knees, head swimming. "It is done," he slurred, half in parseltongue and half in English. He staggered up again, swaying under the weight of exhaustion and heavy wards- he, of course, knew better than to give Dumbledore the reins, but that required him anchor and hold up the damn things himself until he found someone he could trust...and he was not about to tell anyone his secrets so far, at least until the end of the war.
Well, that's what he had thought...