Disclaimer: I don't own anything you'll recognize!

A/N: Well, sorry for the wait… But I had a few problems with the plot line….

Anyway, thanks to Knarm for helping me out… I really needed the help. Thanks!

Thanks also to all the reviewers for their comments and encouragements!

Now, on with the story.

Chapter Eighteen

Harry shook his head, wincing as his movement caused him a small bout of pain. He was still feeling quite hot and a sweat was coating his body.

§Harry? Are you alright? Don't move….§

Harry frowned… Who was talking?... Then the events of the past days came back to his mind. He groaned…. How was he going to explain this to Godric!

But before he could wonder about it and try to think of something, the door opened and the four founders entered. As he spotted his ancestor's face, Harry knew he would have a hard time getting out of this one. Gryffindor had a grave look on his face, his lips tightened in a thin line.

Sighing, Harry leaned back on his bed. Small shivers were running through his body, and droplets of sweat were running down his back. Cereus crawled next to him, snuggling at his side, warming him. Automatically, he started to run his hand through the wolf's fur in a soothing pattern.

Rowena and Helga had worried looks as they kept glancing at their co-founder. Slytherin was sporting his usual blank and closed face, no feelings appearing on his features. But as Harry stared at the Slytherin he saw a flicker of interest pass in his eyes as he gazed at the boy laying in the bed.

Godric started to pace, like the lion that represented his house, while the other three settled thenselves in the room.

Finally Godric turned to Harry.

"Harold!" His voice had a harsh edge Harry hadn't heard before.

Tiredly, trying to repress his shivering, Harry looked up at him.

"What were you thinking, damn it! Are you a complete idiot!"

"But…"

"No but! Basilisks are dangerous or didn't you know that?! You don't go associating with them! Do you realize what would happen should you die while here? Can you even manage to imagine the disaster it would be! Or are you too stupid to comprehend a notion that simple!" Spitle was flying out of his mouth as he raged.

Then he brought his face close to Harry's.

"And how can you be a Parselmouth?" Suspicion was now audible in his voice. He stared at Harry who was looking at him, eyes wide.

"Well! Answer me boy!"

Harry shrinked a bit on himself, a bit scared before his ancestor's anger.

Sensing his distress, Cereus turned his amber eyes towards Godric and started to growl throatily.

Godric took a few steps back, startled. Harry scratched the wolf behind the ear.

"That's alright, Cereus, calm down…"

Throwing his hands in the air, Godric seemed desperate.

"What is going on, for God's sake! You are a Parselmouth, you go into the forest with a Basilisk, disappear for two days, then come back from God knows where with a big wolf! Will someone explain it to me!"

"Godric, would you calm down and behave like an adult for a bit!" snapped Rowena Ravenclaw, apparently having enough of the man's outburst. She returned her attention to Harry.

"Harold, we are waiting for an explanation, you can't go and leave like this. Do you realize how worried we were?"

Harry dropped his head, feeling bad for the problems he was causing the founders.

"Look at us when we're speaking, Harold."

With a sigh, Harry obeyed, he knew from his lesson with the man that you didn't go disobeying Salazar Slytherin without good reasons.

"We're waiting…." Said Godric, resuming his pacing.

Knowing he wouldn't manage to weasle his way out of it, Harry started to explain what had happened to him, omitting a few things, like his beast-speaking abilities, his bond to Cereus. As he talked, his shivering got worse, and soon he was shaking lightly. He was feeling dizzy as he tightened the covers around him and as Cereus snuggled closer. The sweat running down his back was feeling icy on his feverish skin.

Frowning, Helga came closer to him as he finished his story and put her hand on his forehead.

"My God! You're burning up! Rowena, call Leanne!"

The Ravenclaw founder hurried out of the room, in search for Godric's wife.

Leanne of Holsters was a qualified healer while none of them knew more than the basics. She was residing in the castle with her two sons, Nathaniel and Querin.

Meanwhile, Helga was trying to find what was wrong with the boy, pressured by Godric. Finally she had enough.

"GODRIC!"

The man took a few steps back. Helga wasn't easily angered but when pushed too far, she knew where to strike and wouldn't stop before having exacted her revenge, like the badger that symbolized her house.

"I don't know what is wrong with him! He is shaking, he has a high fever and is sweating, but I don't see or detect any physical wounds on his body, no bite, no gash, no suspicious cut."

Godric slumped on his seat and took his head in his hands.

Salazar stood up.

"I'm going to fetch fever reducing potions and some calming and sleeping draughts…. It looks like we'll need some."

Godric turned to him.

"Thanks Salazar."

"No need, I'm curious about the boy and anyway, I wouldn't worry too much…. Your descendants seemed to have an endless supply of luck for getting out of sticky situations."

Godric nodded wordlessly, his eyes fixed on his shivering heir, seeming quite small in the large bed as he waited for his wife to come.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Harry moaned as he woke, not even aware that he had gone to sleep. Pain was drilling his head. He felt his shirt sticking to his sweaty body as he tried to sat in his bed, leaning back after a few tries.

He grimaced, his whole body was sore, and his eyes hurt as he looked around the brightly lit room.

"You're awake, Harold."

A fresh hand came to rest on his forehead and he moaned again, trying to shift away.

A warm body was stil at his side and warm wet thing started to push his hand.

Lowering his eyes, he met the amber eyes of Cereus.

"Cereus…. How are you?" he croaked. His throat was dry. He licked his crackled lips.

§Rest, young one. I'm warding you to the best of my abilities…. The Wise One will soon come to your aid, do not worry. For now, spare your strength.§

Confused as hell, Harry decided to let the matter rest for now and shifted a bit in his bed, trying to ease his sore limbs, before falling in an agitated sleep once more.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

For following days he kept drifting in and out of unconsciousness. His fever wasn't breaking despite the potions Salazar kept feeding him and Leanne's caring ministrations.

Throughout those days, he was swept throughout his mind, caught in his delirium. During the rare moments where he was conscious he hoped he wasn't voicing the memories or strange visions he was dragged in.

He would see odd looking men and women, strangely dressed, travel, fight, heal… Harry couldn't help but be fascinated as he caught glimpses of those people… he didn't know why he was so drawn to them, but the fact was undeniable. Quite often they were teaching things to others or speaking to someone. But their words didn't make any sense…

Finally, a week after his stroll in the Forest, he, once more, managed to regain some consciousness.
Keeping his eyes nearly closed, since any amount of light gave him pounding headaches, as he had experienced first-hand a few days ago, he tried to focus on his surroundings.

He was still in his room, and Cereus was at his side.

From the calm emitting from the castle itself, Harry deduced he had woken in the middle of the night. Neither Leanne nor the founders were present this time.

He shifted a bit, trying to see if someone was around. No, nobody, he was alone…

"So, you're finally awake, young Harold."

Had Harry had the strength to move, he would have jumped three feet in the air. Trying to calm his frantically beating heart, he tried to sit up to see who had spoken, but the smallest movements of his head what sending wave of pain through his head.

"Don't move, Harold…."

§You have nothing to fear, Harry, the Wise One is here, he'll help you… Everything is going to be alright now…§

Cereus' thoughts conveued his trust towards the one he was calling 'Wise One' and Harry realized that the tenseness was leaving his body, answering subsconsiously to his familiar's feelings.

§If you say so, Cereus….§ His mind was a bit foggy, and he had trouble focusing.

A cold feeling filled him as a gust of wind passed near him.

"I'll help you Harold, but I need you to trust me…."

Careful not to move his head, Harry glance at the corner of his right eye and gasped.

Merlin's translucent form was hovering by his head, his eyes on him, and for once his face didn't support the usual crazy look Harry had gotten used to.

"Merlin…" he whispered, sucking in his breath.

The ghost smiled grimly at him.

"Yes, Merlin, or Emrys or Myrrdin, or any names the human folk will see to bequeath me as time will pass."

Harry was about to speak, but the spirit stopped him.

"No, don't speak, you'll need your strength if you are to go through this. Just listen carefully to me as we have little time and lots of thing to do."

Saying that Harry was confused was an understatement; the young wizard was staring with disbelief at Merlin, well, as much as his position allowed him.

Merlin shifted a little until he was sitting, Indian style, five feet in the air. It was unnerving for Harry to see the ghost so serious as he had gotten used to the crazy spirit who was always up for some mishief.

"Harold, what do you know about the Healers and the Warriors?"

Harry's blank face seemed to be enough of an answer for him as he pushed the matter a bit more.

"The Arhoxs and the Xohras? The two halves? The Opposites?"

Harry's face got even more confused looking, if that was even possible.

Merlin sighed.

"What do they teach you now…. How to turn a matchstick into a needle?"

Seeing the slight nod of the young man laying in the bed, a dumbstruck expression passed on his translucid face.

"Alright, I'll take it you have never heard of those before… Then, listen carefully."

Harry shifted slightly, getting comfortable.

"Cereus is supporting you for the moment, so you'll be able to stay awake a bit longer, but it's draining for him, so try to limit your movements, not to tax him too much."

Taking his silence as agreement to his words, Merlin resumed his speech.

"I did not tell yout his since I didn't think you'll be one of those, but apparently I was proven wrong. You must know that in this world, there are a lot of powers at work, but, times and times ago, when Atlantis still existed, two groups of people, among the Atlantians, embodied the duality of those forces. They were called the Healers and the Warriors, or the Arhoxs and the Xohras."

"Contrary to what you could think, they did not stand for Light and Dark. No it would have been too restrictive to label them as such, but we'll come to this argument later, it's not relevant for now."

Merlin paused, as if gathering his thoughts.

"You could describe them as the two opposite halves of a whole. The two sides of a Balance. The members of the two groups were spread around the world, rarely gathering, working to preserve this Balance. The Healers, also called the Xohras, were divided in three groups: the Healers of the soul, of the body, and of the Earth. The first were those who would soothe minds, heal psyches, mental scars, traumas, comfort the distressed, guide the young during their lives. The healers of the body were the most well-known: they would heal the physic wounds in the body of any living creatures."

"The Healers of the Earth or Mage-Healers were those less-known. As they wandered around the world, they would heal the nature around them and take care of any magical disruption in the power and magical flow through the Earth as well as keeping an eye on the power points."

"Most of time, the healers combined two of those types, rarely was one only able to practice only one type; but no matter their type, they all could vizualize the magical energies flowing around them and manipulate them."

"A Healer was bound by his very nature to heal, he couldn't stop himself from doing so, and in his very being an oath was weaved, he couldn't willingly harm or kill for the sole purpose of bringing harm to a living being. Sure he could be forced to harm, while in the process of healing, or have no choice but to kill in order to spare his patient a painful and agonizing death."

"However, should a healer chose to bring harm to someone, or kill, without those kinds of reasons, he would suffer a backlash proportionned to his deed. Usually the healers who are said to have used their powers to kill, or destroy life were killed by the backlash or left mindless and power less, human shells devoid of any intelligence or thinking abilities."

"The more powerful the Healer, the more energy he could wield. Some of them became legends…"

Merlin looked at Harry who had his jaw opened slightly, his features forming a stunned expression.

"Then you had the Warriors or Arhoxs. They were fighters whose life was dedicated to combat. They needed the thrill of the battle to keep themselves sane. All of them were naturals at fighting, capable of learning new styles in record time, but each of them had their own style. Driven by their short-tempers they were prone to violent outbursts but quick to apologize and recognize their faults. Honor-bound, they fought for the ideals they believed in. Throughout their life, they learned to tame their tempers, usually with the help of the healers they met as it was in their nature to protect and defend any Healers they met."

"The Warriors, though unable to see the energies around them, could instinctively use them, draining their surroundings to sustain themselves."

"There were the usual Warriors, the Mage-Warriors, those who specialized in all magical fighting skills, and the Mind warriors who dealt with necromancers, crazed spirits, malevolent ghosts, and wandering souls seeking revenge…."

"Both groups were bound together, the Healers were a grounding for the Warriors, preventing their fighting drives from getting the better of them and transforming them into killing machines, without honor or ideals. The Warriors protected the Healers, defending them."

"Both of them were needed for the Balance, the Healers were the creators, those who healed, the Warriors were the fighters, those who regulated, any race from enslaving another."

A small nod, showed him that the young wizard was following him so far.

"But as time passed, both groups started to die down, Normally, people with the potential were immediately spotted and trained by one of them, but less and less potential were appearing, nobody managed to find out why, finally only a handful of them were left: Five healers and five Warriors. They gathered one day and nobody saw them afterwards. Rumors of sightings of one of the Ten run for years, but soon, the truth of their existence faded as Atlantis disappeared and only legends survived. "

Merlin paused again, this time Harry, through the foggy mists clouding his mind, could tell, the ghost was reflecting.

"But the Ten didn't completely disappeared, they lived on, remaining on this earth to teach the random Healers and Warriors who popped through the ages. Upon reaching their magical inheritance, the youths with the potential would seek them out, helped by dreams of past Healers or Warriors and would be taught under their rule."

Harry was startled at that particular revelation. So the people in his dreams were past Arhoxs and Xohras?

"Your ennemy, this Tom Marvolo Riddle, or Voldemort as he likes to be called, is or was a Warrior."

Despite his crippled state, Harry couldn't present a little jump…. The Dark Lord was a Warrior, but then how was he to destroy him then?

"Unfortunately, he was born too early, or you were born too late." Seeing the puzzled look on the other's face, he elaborated. "You have to understand that A Healer needs a Warrior and most importantly, a Warrior needs a Healer. Arhox and Xohra are anagrams of each other and this summaries the dependence between the two. A Warrior prevents a Healer from injuring himself in his desire to help and stop people from being taken advantage of him, a Healer anchors the Warrior and prevents him from going on a killing spree in his thirst for battles."

"Tom Riddle sought the teaching of the Ten and they gave it to him, thinkig that the Healer would manifest soon, but either the one destined to be the Healer was killed before reaching his magical inheritance, or he was to be born later."

"Without a Healer to anchor him, and with the knowledge gained from his stay with the Ten, Voldemort slowly lost himself to the allurement of the battle calling. His thirst, slowly, but surely overcame him. And he became a Dark Mage-Warrior."

"Even in the old ages, a Dark Warrior or a Dark Healer would appear, they would be dealt with by the Warriors or Healers of their times… But nobody was able to stop him in your time, nobody, except you."

This time, Merlin, looked straigth at him.

"He was able to sense you, feel your Healer's potential. That's why he went after you, thinking that if he ot you out of the picture, nothing would stand in his way, but he misjugded the powers of the Healers, and also he underestimated your powers, powers only amplificated by the sacrifice of your mother. Such an act, did out of love, fueled your latent Healer's abilities."

"However you didn't come out of it unscathed, he left a part of himself in you. Making you a Warrior and a Healer. Up till now, you never showed much more than average powers or any signs of those magic as they kept cancelling each other, always trying to nullify the other. But I suspect that you could sometimes perform advanced magic, if the cases that your spell was one both a Healer and a Warrior could perform, like the Patronus charm for example…"

Eyes wide, Harry gave the slightest of nods.

"This is also the reason why you didn't feel any backlash when you performed offensive magic or harmed people while training, since neither magic were dominant in you. But you went to the Forest. There you healed something, drank and ate. The Forest is completely satured with magic, as you ate and drank water and fruits from the Forest, you ingested highly magically charged elements. Those coupled to your healing actions, just activated you Healing abilities sooner than expected."

There Merlin grimaced, apparently thingss had not gone according to his plan.

"Your body, used to the balance between your warrior and healer part activated your warrior part, feeding it with your energies. That's what is draining you and pushed you into shock. The two magic are fighting each other for control but none are winning."

"W-what can I-I do?" Harry stuttered, as pain filled his head once more. Even speaking was straining him!

"For now, your familiar is grounding your magic as much as possible, which, given your powers is quite difficult, let me tell you. But you need to create your staff as soon as possible, then you'll be able to ground one of your two magic and get rid of the other."

"C-Can't I keep b-both?"

Merlin shook his head.

"NO!" His tone was adamant. "Those magics can't cohabit in the same body, or said body would self-destruct, that, or the bearer of such magics would go crazy and kill himself in the end, when the two magics would be no longer dormant."

He looked at Harry.

"Cereus won't hold much longer, you need to rest and gather your strength, next time, we'll have to build your staff. You have the focus stone taken care of already, you just need your cores, wood and a bit of your blood. What is your wand core and the wood it's made of?"

Harry was falling asleep once again, caught in a dark, inviting whirlwind.

"Harold! Answer now!"

What?... Why couldn't he let him sleep, he was tired, couldn't he see that?

"HAROLD!"

"H-holly…." He yawned, feeling completely drained. "Holly, and the second-cond feather o-of a p-hoenix."

That said, he let himself  fall in an exhausted slumber, missing Merlin's shocked gaze.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

This time, the dreams were even worse than before… More vivid, more graphic, but Harry still couldn't understand one word of those people, no matter how clearly he could hear them, what they were saying wasn't making any sense.

Unknown to him, the Four founders kept watch on him as he tossed and turned, muttering those words, his fever still as high as ever, his skin covered by a shine of sweat most of the time. They fed him through nutrient potions, curtesy of Salazar, bathed him regularly and changed his clothes. Godric was barely reigning his temper, worried out of his mind for his descendant, even Salazar was started to be worried, as Harry's condition didn't seem to improve as days passed. The only time they left was for their classes and for the night, except that they all had a charm on the room to warn them, should Harry leave his bed.

Finally, he felt himself awoke, once more, he could sense that it was night time and he was alone again. A soft push on his hand wrenched a smile from him. No he wasn't alone.

§Cereus….§

§Spare your strength, Harry-cub, you'll need them tonight, I'll help as much as possible.§

§Thank you§ Harry tried to convey all his gratitude to his familiar.

"Harold, you're awake, good. Drink this, it should give you the energy boost you need to make it through, or so I hope."

Harru eyed the vial filled with a creamy red potion with a wary expression. It was floating in front of him.

§Go ahead, Harry, the Wise One hold no treachery towards you,§ said Cereus, trying to reassure him.

Trusting him, Harry downed the potion after grabbing it. Immediately, he felt a rush of energy. It was like drinking bottles of black coffee.

"We have to hurry, the effects are only temporary, I fear."

Leaving the bottle on his bed, Harry tried to gather his thoughts.

"How could you do magic? Why do you know so much about Healers and Warriors?"

Merlin only smiled at him, motionning to him to get a move on.

"The answer to this is the same," he paused, dragging the suspens, "I was an Healer."

Stunned for a few seconds, Harry gathered back his wrist and was about to get out of bed but was stopped by Merlin

"Make yourself invisible, Harold, your ancestor will be warned of your departure from this room, and they must not see you until your staff is made."

Nodding, Harry concentrated, calling on his air element, coupled with a wandless spell, turning himself invisible to any eyes, even magical ones. This combination would prevent him being detected by magical tools or spells too.

"Now, hurry, before the potion's effect wear off."

Merlin started to float out of the room. Cereus stood up and jumped from the bed, stretching his huge body before shaking it. Following his example, Harry got up and not waiting for the founders to arrive, he headed towards the door and followed the ghost down a few corridors.

Quickly, they made their way down the dungeons and reached a door. As Merlin passed through it, Harry thought it better to open it.

The room was bare, except for a table with some pieces of woods and other things, a few knives, a bassin, several vials, a cauldron, a book spread on it.

The walls were devoid of any ornament and the only light came from several torches, stuck around the place, giving an eerie and chilling atmosphere.

"Come on, we don't have time for dawdling around…."

Frowning a bit, Harry approached the table, Cereus at his side. Merlin floating in front of him.

"I gathered what I thought could be a possible match for you… You just have to choose now."

Leaning on the table, Harry started to examine each thongs laid on it. He immediatelly spotted his stone and put it aside as well as a bag of small ametysts. Then, he glanced at the different kinds of wood, his wand hand hovering over them. Several types reacted to his hand: Holly, acacia and ebony. The same could be said for the cores: in the end he ended with a phoenix feather, and a unicorn hair.

Opening the book, he started to follow its instruction, helped by merlin as he carved the different kind of woods, entertwined the three of them. He twirled the unicorn hair around the feather and placed them in the hole he had been careful to leave, while carving his staff. Closing the bottom with the help of his earth elemental abilities, he felt the two magical components reacting with the wooden parts and starting powering them.

Then came the tricky part.

Taking a ornemental knifen he cut his wrist lightly, and watched as his blood started to fill the small bassin. As soon as the needed amount had been shed, he closed the wound and took the stones. First he placed the seven little amethyst in the blod, letting it coat them, before speaking the incantation that would allow the red liquid to penetrate the violet stone.

Once it was done, he took them out and chanting the words written he placed them on the staff, a small glow appearing it, growing as he placed them all.

Finally he took his stone and looked at it, mesmerized by it. Shaking himself out of the light trance in which it had thrown him, he placed it in the blood-filled bassin and spoke the words, wincing at the magical shock as the blood penetrated the stone. Taking it out with extra care, he put it at the top of the staff, at equal distance from each amethyst and chanted the incantation.

As the last step to the staff's creation was completed, chaos fell on them, but Harry would never manage to remember what exactly happened as he placed his focus stone…

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Harry placed the focus stone at the top and as soon as it touched the wooden part, rays of violet light shot from the seven amethyst, hittting the main stone dead-on. The starstone started to glow brighter and brighter, its core pulsing, synchronising itself with Harry's heart beat.

Then as its light was nearly binding, Harry took his cue and slashing his palm, he held the staff top towards the ground, letting the blood trailed down the wood to the stones. As soon as the red liquid reached its aim, he raised it up this time, in time to see the pulsing golden spark inside thr starstone merged with the blood. Ignoring the dizzying feeling spreading through hid body, he started the chant to ground his staff to him and his powers to the tool.

As he uttered the last word, light shot from the focus stone and hit him dead-on in his chest.

He felt the foreign energy make its way through his own, reaching for his core and he felt himself tense as it got closer and closer.

Finally it found it and fusionned with it. As it happened, a excruciating pain tore him up. He felt himself fell to the ground, unable to stand. The Crucio was child play compared to that. He managed to hold for a few seconds as he muttered the last two words to achieve the staff's creation then knew no more, lost in a sea of pain and Darkness.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Godric had been resting in his chambers with his wife at his side. He had not been able to get one night of full rest since Harry had fallen ill. Leanne had done all she could, but this was beyond her skills, or so she said. The worst part was that they couldn't send for help. They would risk someone discovering the secrets of the Gryffindor's line. So they did their best and waited. From what Leanne had said, the boy's magic was conflicting with itself, hence the state of the boy. But Godric was feeling a bit better, after all, Leanne had said that he seemed to get slightly better.

Suddenly he was woken up by the shrill sound of an alarm.

Blinking, he sat up in his bed, trying to gather his thought and find what was wrong.

"Godric…. What's wrong… Nat and Querin are sleeping…." muttered his wife.
Then it hit the founder, Harry!

"Harold!"

He jumped out of his bed.

"He must have left his room for the alarms to have been set up!"

"Godric, the boy is comatose, he's not about to wake up any day now," said Leanne.

"But, then…. The alarms…."

"Must have been his wolf…"

Godric leaned back on his bed.

"Do you really think so?"

"I do, now, go back to sleep, he'll be alright in the morning, you'll see…"

Deciding to listen to his wife, after all, she was the healer, must know what she was talking about, he waved his staff, silencing the alarm and then closed his eyes, trying to get back to sleep, but unable to shake an uneasy feeling. As he was starting to get back into Morpheus' arms, when his door burst opened.

He jumped out of his bed, staff in hand and a curse on his lips when he spotted a disshelved Helga.

"Godric, Harold…. Disappeared…. Room…. Empty….."

She had not even finished her sentence that her co founder was already out of his room, hurrying to his future heir's bedroom.

Upon entering the bedroom, he could only assessed that Harry had indeed disappeared. Rowena and Salazar were already here, checking the whole place.

"What happened, did you find anything?" he said, frantic.

"Nothing pointing towards a kidnapping… There was a vial left on his bed," said Rowena, pointing to Salazar.

"That's true, it was a strong energizing potion. He drank the whole thing, I couldn't find anything wrong with it. It was a bit too strong but not too much to be dangerous."

"But how could he have find such a potion. He was comatose, not up to go for a stroll in your rooms! He shouldn't even have been able to stand up…" Godric was starting to panic.

"That's what has us at a loss. None of us did it, nor did the other professors, they didn't now where he was resting, neither did the students," said Helga who had joined them a few moments ago, Leanne behind her.

Salazar snorted, earning himself a dirty look from the Hufflepuff.

"I think it's obvious who gave him the potion, but the real question is where that dratted boy is?"

"Really? Then who did it? Tell us if you're so smart, Salazar!"

"Who knows about Harold, had shown interest in him and knows everything about this castle?"

Godric's cheek reddened as he understood what Slytherin meant.

"If I find that ghost, I'm having him exorcised! MERLIN!!"

The Gryffindor's founder left the room, completely pissed, yelling at the wall, arms flying around. His face was congestionned as he raved about Merlin, and exorcism….

For a few more minutes, the three remaining founders keep searching the room for clues, but found nothing beside the vial.

They, then, parted ways, organizing a thorough search of the castle. Rowena was taking care of the higher level of the castle while Helga was going to search outside. Salazar would go through the dungeons since he knew them by heart.

They didn't bother to look for Godric. The short-tempered man would find them once he came back to his senses.

Salazar wandered through the dungeons, just looking around, trying to notice any disturbances in his beloved shadows. Whispering quietly, he called upon his abilities as a Shadow Companion. He mastered the air, that was true, but unknown to the others and under Merlin's tutelage, he had come to master the Shadow Arts. He had however keep acting as he had always done as far as the old spirit was Shadow arts were the other, less-known, name of the Mysteries' Arts. As he didn't have a starstone as focus for his staff, he couldn't use them to their true power, but could still manage the easiest and average manifestations of those arts. He wouldn't go further than the level of Companion, but this boy, as far-fetched as it was coming from an heir of Godric had the potential to be at least a master, if not Adept.

He pondered on this as he gathered what he knew about the young wizard.

Young, that was his first thought. Usually, Godris's heirs were older when brought throught time. From what he understood about the spell, he asked for a minimum amount of power to bring the people back to one of their ancestors. The further they needed to go back, the more power it asked. And this boy had already met two of his ancestors, including the first of his line!

So much power in one so young. Salazar had sensed it as soon as he had met him. The magic was coursing through the boy, untamed, dangerous, uncontrolled.

Old. Yes here was a paradox. So young in appearances and maturity but so old inside. This had surprised him. Gryffindors usually led a sheltered life which allowed them to cling to their nice view of the world longer than the others, making them believe in a good side in almost everyone and prompt to defend whatever they believe in. But not this one. Had he not known, he would have think him one of his one, if there wasn't an impulsive streak and a strange kind of naivety to him that was pure Gryffindor.

He had seen too much in too little time, that much was obvious. Maybe he could learn the beauty of the Shadows.

But that would meant taking him as an apprentice and Godric wouldn't hear of that, that much was sure. No… he would have to be more…. discreet. But he would teach the boy, if he proved to be worthy, after all he wouldn't pass his secrets on him if he couldn't reach his standards…

As he pondered on the enigma that was his co-founder's charge, he reached the deepest pit of his territory, few people went there, but he knew Merlin, after all he had been taught one on one by the man, and this would be where he would have gone, had he wanted not to be found.

Predictabily, he spotted prints in the dust covering the grounds in this part of the castle. Following them, he was lead to an unused room. Nothing was stored there, the room was empty, as far as he knew.

But as the prints left no other choice, he opened the door and entered and closed the door behind him.

First thing to hit him were the screams. The boy was laying on the floor on his back, convulsing and screaming. The huge black wolf which had refused to leave his side was pinning him to the ground, trying to prevent him from hurting himself.

Merlin was hovering above him, chanting, but whatever he was doing seemed to have little if no effect on the boy. A table was standing in the middle of the room, and looking at what was spread on it, Salazar immediately deduced that the spirit had made the boy craft his staff.

Transfering his gaze to the boy, he indeed spotted the aforementionned object. He had to admit that it was a mesmerizing object, the stones in particular were entrancing and literally crackling with power.

"SALAZAR!"

He jumped slightly at hearing the panic shout of his former teacher.

"Merlin, what did you do again?"

"Nothing you need to worry about! Do you have a calming draught on you, a mild one?"

The Slytherin nodded. He always carried some of the most used potions on him all the time. Burrying his hand in his right pocket, he took out a small bag and with a swift muttered enlarging spell, had a large trunk in his hands. Placing it on the floor, he opened it and after a few seconds of shuffling, took out a very light blue vial.

"Give it to him. It should calm him enough for the charm to work," Merlin's voice held a no non-sense tone as he spoke and Salazar thought better than to test the old spirit. Coming near the beast, he sat on the youth's torso, pinning his arms down not too gently with his feet and leaned forwards to administer the potion. After a few moments of struggle and some coaxing, the teen relaxed slightly in his trashing before falling back to his former comatose state. But even then, Salazar could see some difference. He wasn't as feverish as before and his skin had got some of its colors back. Losing for once his legendary cool, Salazar turned to the ghost.

"Merlin, in the name of everything that he sacred, what did you do?!"

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Well, here it was….

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