~ Godric ~
The second archeologist to leave the group was muscular and dark. He had black hair, but it was shaved due to the hard physical aspects of archeology. His eyes were brown, a rich happy tone, with flecks of gold. Of average height, head held high, he walked toward the castle.
The castle, for him, was the strongest of all the strange memories he was experiencing. As he reached the front doors, he took in a deep breath and softly touched the emblem which sealed the two doors together and firmly closed. As his fingertips brushed the lion, it glowed scarlet. But he wasn't afraid. It was... normal, somehow. The doors opened smoothly and silently, massive on their hinges.
His first step inside was awe striking. He was in a huge hallway with chandaliers made of crytal and diamonds and small tables lining the walls with different statues and pictures. The portraits which hung on the walls were odd, but he was so lost in his discovery he basically ignored them. The suits of armor's heads seemed to follow him where ever he moved.
He knew to walk straight down the hall, complete with plush hand woven rugging, to the set of stairs. He went up, climbing the cool marble stairs and looking at the roof - it was painted with all sorts of things: designs were most common, then fantastic beasts, and many angels. He climbed these stairs, up and up, not really minding the stares of the people in the portraits. He should have noticed these, and screamed perhaps, but he didn't. They were supposed to be there, he knew. This was all normal.
When he reached the top of the stairs, there was a trap door in the roof. It was covered in dust and cobwebs, but he brushed that all away. Hesitantly, he pushed his thumb into the latch. A staircase came down, and when he emerged at the final level, he was on top of one of the four outside towers. Ravenclaw Tower, he seemed to sense. The view was awesome, of all the grounds and the castle. He stood and drank in what he was seeing.
When he became tired of one view - which was after a very long time - he started to walk along the wall. He was fascinated by the chips in the stone where it was obvious arrows (or some stronger form of delivering death) had hit.
When he reached the second tower, he stopped. His breathing became faster and he had to sit down. A scene played out before his eyes.
The screaming was so loud it was almost unbearable... but really what disturbed him was the distress. His men moved all about him, from one post to the next, collecting arrows and other defense weapons. One came to give him a report. "Sir, we can't hold them. There are too many, and we haven't been able to get food in or the wounded out. You know that we need real food - conjuring only works for awhile. You know we need real hospitals - the nurse can't handle the injuries. Sir. Sir! We need to do something. Fighting won't work. Why can't we use magic?"
He responded tiredly. "It wouldn't be right, wouldn't be fair. And it makes no sense. The reason they hate us, are trying to kill us, is because of the magic. Because they are afraid. Afraid of what they don't know. If we used magic, yes we would win. But at what price?"
The soldier gave him one last dipairing look. "The men are talking mutiny, sir."
He sighed. Then that is the path that will be followed. "Mutiny, to use power that Muggles don't have just to save ourselves. The problem is, we are more --" His eyes bulged, and he looked toward his chest. There was the tip of a knife sticking out the front, above his heart. And blood was streaming as freely as his tears.
Godric snapped out of it. Following his suspicion, he ran. Ran back to the other tower, down the stairs, and to the hall he had first entered. He came to a stop in front of a suit of armor. There! There it was! In this particular suit, there was a hole, from the inside out, on the chest, right above the heart. The suit's hand came up and touched a finger to the spot.
Godric's eyes became huge and dialated. As the suit of armor's face mask flipped upwards, it was all he could do to take a step backwards and stare. A man was in there. He was tall and slenderly built, very wrikley, with a crooked nose and blue eyes that couldn't seem to focus. His beard, it could be imagined, was quite long - but it was tucked inside, hidden from view.
"Have you seen my spectacles?" Dumbledore asked.