As the invisible barn owl had reached the- still unlocked- door to the hut that had previously belonged to generations of Housekeepers, and had managed to push it open, he entered. For some reason, the Death Eaters' army had made its camp considerably far away from the house- for some reason which Albus Dumbledore was very well aware of and on which he'd counted while making his plans.
As slowly, he felt his body turn back to just that- his body- he allowed Minerva's Invisibility Cloak to slide off. Normally, he could make himself invisible whenever he wanted, but the Transfigured students in the bag still hanging round his neck and resting against his chest, had made his wife's Cloak necessary.
"Finite Incantatum" was the short spell he muttered as soon as the mice came crawlingout of the bag, and before long, the small hut suddenly seemed terribly full.
Ginevra Weasley was the first one to speak up, in that light, calm tone that was entirely her own.
"Thank God we are here- a moment longer in that warmth and I'd have thrown up right away."
Her brother grinned, looking positively flustered too.
"Yeah well- so thank God indeed Gin!"
Harry Potter was the first to address the Headmaster, though, and the first one to force a serious expression on his face after the rather funny escape from the castle.
"Now what do we do, Professor? I can imagine we're not exactly "safe" over here, are we? Will we attack Voldemort right away?"
The spoken out name of the Dark Lord made the other four kids wince- Hermione Granger immediately conquered her fear of the name, though.
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore- Harry's right. What if V-Voldemort finds out we're here and decides to attack before we're prepared?"
Albus had to oppress a slight smile at her faint stammering whilst pronouncing the name of he who was so adequately called "He Who Must Not Be Named". It was a strange fact indeed, why did Hermione Granger, a muggleborn and the smartest witch of her year on top of it, still feel fear at the mentioning of a mere name? But then again, even his very own Minerva winced at that name- though that had, of course, a totally different reason and was almost acceptable. Yet.
Fear of the name increases the fear of the thing itself, he'd told them a thousand times before.
But, Albus reminded himself as the rather inquiring gazes of Ronald and Ginevra met his own, a question had been asked here- a question which he above all persons was very fit to answer.
He sighed, though. It was an old story to be told.
"He will not do that, Miss Granger."
"Why not?"
She raised her eyebrows in a polite, yet very much- "Minerva"- gesture, and despite himself, he fondly smiled. No, Hermione, this tale was not in "Hogwarts, A History"… It was in the library, somewhere, though- but then again even Hermione Granger had not read every single book Hogwarts' School for Witchcraft and Wizardry possessed.
"That is an ancient story of history, Hermione- and by the way, this goes for all of you- so please sit down somewhere while I tell it."
Their attention now officially caught, the five teenagers found their seats on Rubeus Hagrid's former bed, and stared at their Headmaster in expectation. Albus, too, sat down and smiled a weary smile.
"What I am going to tell," he then began, thoughtfully, still wondering how much he would tell them. The minimum, he then decided. Some things were not his to tell.
"…is a very obscure and hidden part of wizarding- and Hogwarts, for that matter- history. It goes back to the era of the Founders of the school, now more than thousand years ago. You have heard of them, of course- Professor Binns has probably dedicated many an interesting lesson to them…"
He chuckled lightly as the students- especially Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom- smiled sheepishly, and young Miss Weasley softly cleared her throat.
"And yes, I do know you probably have not followed all our dear Professor's lessons with the same amount of interest…"
Understatement of the year.
"… but you of course do know the names and such of these four genial people. Because, though they were entirely different and not every deed of every one of them may have been a honourable one- no-one can deny that they were, each in their way, geniuses. They fought amongst them, though, for even geniuses are human, and ultimately, they even arrived at a point of war…"
"Oh yes, I have read a book on it!"
Hermione Granger- naturally-, and Albus cast the girl an affectionate glance.
"Have you, Miss Granger- well, then you perhaps do remember what was the outcome of this war?"
Hermione frantically nodded.
"Oh sure I do- Sir. It came to an ultimate fight of Gryffindor and Slytherin."
"And who won?"
"Gryffindor did- although he left his life for it. Salazar Slytherin managed to hex him to dead, but was then driven away by an army lead by Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff. Some say so, at least. Others report that he fled, sick of guilt at the murder of the man who had once been a friend and ally of his. We do not know for sure."
The Headmaster smiled once more, then nodded and gravely addressed all five of the students.
"What Miss Granger has told is the utmost truth, but what she didn't tell and what is scarce and very secret knowledge is the mere mentioning of the exact place of where this happened."
"Here…" Hermione Granger whispered, and got an admiring glance from Ron Weasley in exchange.
Albus nodded.
"Right here. This place, on which was later erected this small hut, is the exact death place of the bravest of the Four. And, after his death, Rowena Ravenclaw, his wife, cast a spell over this place, so as to somehow revenge and honour her late husband at the same time. This place was made an asylum, namely, for all of his and her ancestry in the ages to come. Rowena carried Godric's unborn child at the time of the murder- she did this in case Salazar would later return and attempt to kill the daughter she would give life, or her sons or daughters through ages of the world. That spell still remains, even now, when Rowena and her daughter, Roderica, have since long passed away. And to this day, the blood of Gryffindor still lives on."
A short silence fell. Then, Neville Longbottom spoke his very first words of the day. His honest, brown eyes very big, he asked
"And who is that Heir of Gryffindor, Professor? Do you know who it is?"
Albus smiled once more, but another smile, this time- an ancient smile.
"Yes, Neville, I do."
He hesitated for a moment, allowing the expectation in the young faces before him to grow to a peak.
"It is me."
As slowly, he felt his body turn back to just that- his body- he allowed Minerva's Invisibility Cloak to slide off. Normally, he could make himself invisible whenever he wanted, but the Transfigured students in the bag still hanging round his neck and resting against his chest, had made his wife's Cloak necessary.
"Finite Incantatum" was the short spell he muttered as soon as the mice came crawlingout of the bag, and before long, the small hut suddenly seemed terribly full.
Ginevra Weasley was the first one to speak up, in that light, calm tone that was entirely her own.
"Thank God we are here- a moment longer in that warmth and I'd have thrown up right away."
Her brother grinned, looking positively flustered too.
"Yeah well- so thank God indeed Gin!"
Harry Potter was the first to address the Headmaster, though, and the first one to force a serious expression on his face after the rather funny escape from the castle.
"Now what do we do, Professor? I can imagine we're not exactly "safe" over here, are we? Will we attack Voldemort right away?"
The spoken out name of the Dark Lord made the other four kids wince- Hermione Granger immediately conquered her fear of the name, though.
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore- Harry's right. What if V-Voldemort finds out we're here and decides to attack before we're prepared?"
Albus had to oppress a slight smile at her faint stammering whilst pronouncing the name of he who was so adequately called "He Who Must Not Be Named". It was a strange fact indeed, why did Hermione Granger, a muggleborn and the smartest witch of her year on top of it, still feel fear at the mentioning of a mere name? But then again, even his very own Minerva winced at that name- though that had, of course, a totally different reason and was almost acceptable. Yet.
Fear of the name increases the fear of the thing itself, he'd told them a thousand times before.
But, Albus reminded himself as the rather inquiring gazes of Ronald and Ginevra met his own, a question had been asked here- a question which he above all persons was very fit to answer.
He sighed, though. It was an old story to be told.
"He will not do that, Miss Granger."
"Why not?"
She raised her eyebrows in a polite, yet very much- "Minerva"- gesture, and despite himself, he fondly smiled. No, Hermione, this tale was not in "Hogwarts, A History"… It was in the library, somewhere, though- but then again even Hermione Granger had not read every single book Hogwarts' School for Witchcraft and Wizardry possessed.
"That is an ancient story of history, Hermione- and by the way, this goes for all of you- so please sit down somewhere while I tell it."
Their attention now officially caught, the five teenagers found their seats on Rubeus Hagrid's former bed, and stared at their Headmaster in expectation. Albus, too, sat down and smiled a weary smile.
"What I am going to tell," he then began, thoughtfully, still wondering how much he would tell them. The minimum, he then decided. Some things were not his to tell.
"…is a very obscure and hidden part of wizarding- and Hogwarts, for that matter- history. It goes back to the era of the Founders of the school, now more than thousand years ago. You have heard of them, of course- Professor Binns has probably dedicated many an interesting lesson to them…"
He chuckled lightly as the students- especially Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom- smiled sheepishly, and young Miss Weasley softly cleared her throat.
"And yes, I do know you probably have not followed all our dear Professor's lessons with the same amount of interest…"
Understatement of the year.
"… but you of course do know the names and such of these four genial people. Because, though they were entirely different and not every deed of every one of them may have been a honourable one- no-one can deny that they were, each in their way, geniuses. They fought amongst them, though, for even geniuses are human, and ultimately, they even arrived at a point of war…"
"Oh yes, I have read a book on it!"
Hermione Granger- naturally-, and Albus cast the girl an affectionate glance.
"Have you, Miss Granger- well, then you perhaps do remember what was the outcome of this war?"
Hermione frantically nodded.
"Oh sure I do- Sir. It came to an ultimate fight of Gryffindor and Slytherin."
"And who won?"
"Gryffindor did- although he left his life for it. Salazar Slytherin managed to hex him to dead, but was then driven away by an army lead by Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff. Some say so, at least. Others report that he fled, sick of guilt at the murder of the man who had once been a friend and ally of his. We do not know for sure."
The Headmaster smiled once more, then nodded and gravely addressed all five of the students.
"What Miss Granger has told is the utmost truth, but what she didn't tell and what is scarce and very secret knowledge is the mere mentioning of the exact place of where this happened."
"Here…" Hermione Granger whispered, and got an admiring glance from Ron Weasley in exchange.
Albus nodded.
"Right here. This place, on which was later erected this small hut, is the exact death place of the bravest of the Four. And, after his death, Rowena Ravenclaw, his wife, cast a spell over this place, so as to somehow revenge and honour her late husband at the same time. This place was made an asylum, namely, for all of his and her ancestry in the ages to come. Rowena carried Godric's unborn child at the time of the murder- she did this in case Salazar would later return and attempt to kill the daughter she would give life, or her sons or daughters through ages of the world. That spell still remains, even now, when Rowena and her daughter, Roderica, have since long passed away. And to this day, the blood of Gryffindor still lives on."
A short silence fell. Then, Neville Longbottom spoke his very first words of the day. His honest, brown eyes very big, he asked
"And who is that Heir of Gryffindor, Professor? Do you know who it is?"
Albus smiled once more, but another smile, this time- an ancient smile.
"Yes, Neville, I do."
He hesitated for a moment, allowing the expectation in the young faces before him to grow to a peak.
"It is me."