Freud said "sometimes a cigar is just a cigar", and the same goes with Lego. I promise – there is nothing deeper to the Lego than a great fun toy that helps our hero to get in touch withthe inner child that was always denied. Oh, and while I'm on the subject, I honestly do not own Lego, Spam, or Harry Potter, and make not one penny from any of them.
Thanks as always to Spacegal 19, beta to the stars! Or at least super-beta for humble little me…
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Chapter 21
New Teachers and New Relationships
Petunia Dursley paced the kitchen in their new home. Although they had lived there almost a year, she felt the same flush of new excitement each time she stepped through the door. The house was more than Vernon and she had ever dreamed of, and as the effects of the hexed vase slowly drained from their systems, it was steadily replaced with guilt. Crushing guilt. They had done nothing to deserve this generosity from their nephew.
The guilt manifested itself in various ways. For Vernon, he was growing short tempered and angry at everyone and everything. At first he looked for even more ways to hate Harry and the magical world, but when he could not find enough to excuse his fury, he turned on his family. The plus side was that his eyes were finally opened to Dudley's goings on, and he had forced their boy into drug rehab and counseling.
Petunia's guilt came out through constant nightmares. Every night she re-lived every act of cruelty she had foisted on her sister's child. And when she had lived through eleven years and 5 summers of that, she started in on memories of her jealously and pettiness toward her sister Lily. Yes, it was impossible to fight the hexed vase they once owned, but the vase couldn't create the feelings from nothing – it merely amplified the cruelty that was already inside of the family. Petunia and Vernon needed help, and they knew only one person could provide it. She just hated to ask him for anything else.
With stiff and determined spine, Petunia kneeled in front of the parlor fireplace. She looked up the chimney to see if she could see anything. With a shrug, she hesitantly called out "Harry? Can you hear me Harry?" Waiting a few moments and feeling more than a little silly, she turned and started to walk away when she heard the unmistakable voice of her nephew from the fireplace in back of her.
"Aunt Petunia? Is everything all right?"
She spun around and saw Harry's face formed out of green flames looking at her with concern. With palatable unease and relief, she gasped out "Yes, no… could I please talk with you?"
The green face glanced around the room, nodded, and her nephew stepped out, now much taller and stronger then she last saw. The boy now radiated strength and confidence, and was missing the beaten, sickly pallor they had forced upon him. "What's wrong?" he asked kindly, with none of the hate or scorn she deserved.
She stared at the young man, guilt crushing her now. "P-please, have a seat" she stuttered uncomfortably. She sat down across from him, nervously folding and unfolding a tea towel in her lap, looking at the floor with suspiciously shining eyes.
"Is everything ok, Aunt Petunia?" Harry looked at her questioningly, taking the offered chair. "Do you like the house?"
"Harry, we are a wreck. We love this house. We just can't get over how horribly we treated you. Vernon is dealing with his guilt by lashing out at everything and everyone."
Harry interrupted his aunt. "He's not hurting you, is he?" The boy wore a frown that conveyed concern born of bad memories.
"No – nothing like that. He's angry at himself, and takes it out on those around him. He's drinking, he's spiteful. I can't sleep – horrible nightmares every night reliving how I treated you and my sister." A couple of tears now escaped from her down-cast eyes.
"Have you tried counseling?" Harry asked gently.
"We want to, but where would we go? I can't very well look up a counselor in the phone book and explain we feel awful for abusing our nephew who was entrusted to our care, and has turned out to be the hero of the wizarding world. They wouldn't know whether to lock us up in jail or an institution." His aunt looked at him with hope and desperation.
"You should have contacted me sooner, Aunt Petunia" Harry chided her gently. "How's Dudley affected by all of this?"
"Actually, Dudley is doing much better. Vernon put him in rehab and he's clean now." Harry raised his eyebrows. He was aware of Dudley's dealings with drugs for years now, but didn't know his aunt and uncle would ever admit he had problems. "He has been learning less violent ways of expressing himself, and he has lost a lot of weight" she concluded.
"Aunt Petunia" Harry spoke softly, "I never wanted you to go through this. I have no desire for revenge or ill feelings. Dumbledore has done a number on all of us. Remember – he's the one who hexed you guys into hating me."
At this the dam burst, and his once despised aunt wailed. "No, Harry – it only made hating you easier and justified in our minds. It took what was already there and just magnified it. We are horrible, petty, hateful people and we know it now. I always hated Lily because I was so jealous. She didn't do anything to deserve my treatment of her. I saw her baby, you, as a daily reminder of what I was." She sobbed and sobbed as Harry walked over to her sofa and gently held her.
"Aunt Petunia" Harry interrupted her, "yes, you would of resented my mum some. But without that cursed vase in your home, you would have gotten over it. Perhaps you would have favored Dudley over me, and perhaps you would have treated me a bit harsher, but you would not have abused me without its influence. And siblings do not naturally hate each other to the point of violence and neglect – Dudley would not have beaten me like he did without it. The hexing took the faint grumblings in the back of your minds and magnified it a thousand fold. I do not blame you."
She was at the hiccupping stage now, holding her nephew for dear life. "Harry – I'm so sorry. We are all so sorry. How can we make it up to you?"
"By getting through this" Harry smiled. "I will find a wizard counselor for you guys – one who will look and act muggle so you aren't uncomfortable, but you can talk about everything with him. Just please try and leave my identity out of it if at all possible." His aunt nodded in understanding.
"How have you been, Harry?" She asked softly. He smiled encouragingly at her.
"Actually, I've been great. I can't go into details, but I think I'll be ready to confront Voldemort soon, and I don't think it will be as impossible as I once thought. Dumbledore has just found out that you guys are gone and he doesn't know where I am – he's a tad upset." Harry grinned to himself. "Oh yah – I'm engaged."
"W-w-what?" she stuttered again. "You are too young!"
"Don't worry, Aunt Petunia" Harry grinned. "First of all, arranged marriages and early engagements are actually quite common in the wizarding world. Even though wizards live a very long time, they tend to find their mate early and remain very faithful. Secondly, Hermione and I, besides being best friends since my first year at Hogwarts, have spent virtually years together due to magical time management. We are very aware of what we are doing, but we will not rush the marriage. And you guys will be invited to the wedding."
Petunia looked down into her lap. "I'd really like to meet your fiancé, Harry" she spoke wistfully.
"I'll bring her with me when I find your counselor" Harry placed a hand on her shoulder. "I've got to go now, Aunt Petunia. I'll see you in a day or so, ok?"
With a tentative first hug, Harry broke off from his now calm and hopefulaunt and took the floo back to the suitcase.
O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
It had been a few days since Harry had been called to his aunt's home. He had immediately visited Diagon Alley in disguise, found a suitable counselor, and made the arrangements for sessions. Hermione came with him to give the news to his aunt, and they had a surprisingly nice visit.
It was a difficult time for Harry. Although he forgave the Dursleys, he couldn't forget - the visit with his aunt dredged up a lot of sludge in his battered heart. He had a week of nightmares that were nothing to do with Riddle, and many things throughout the day would trigger awful memories of his childhood. Sometimes Harry despaired he would never get over the abuse. But Winky would gently wake him every time he had a bad dream, and the Ravenclaw ghost spent many hours talking with him about his childhood, so by the end of that week, he was feeling back to normal and ready to press on.
Now that life was back to summer-norm, the founderettes were finding themselves running out of things they could study on their own with the ghost's help. Thankfully as that feeling was beginning to manifest, they were visited by the ghost of the fat friar.
"How is it going, young masters and mistresses?" The friar eyed them with his typical good-natured amusement. "I will be escorting you tomorrow morning to meet your new teachers. You will be gone from Godric's Suitcase for a few weeks, so please make suitable arrangements." And with a polite nod, he disappeared.
The next day was spent with directions to Dobby and Winky what to do in an emergency, and to take any messages from Snape, Remus, Tonks, Harry's family, or the twins. Any other contacts would probably be a trap. Hermione hugged Crookshanks and scratched behind his ears. Each of the youths packed a satchel with necessities – armor, parchments and supplies, potions, and sentimental items, and waited for the friar to come and get them.
The ghost didn't make them wait for long. As soon as breakfast was done, the fat friar materialized into the trunk with a jovial smile. "Are you ready my friends? The Headmaster is out of the building and the paintings have been ordered by Hogwarts herself not to report on our doings."
The four youths popped out of the trunk and into the hallway in front of the room of requirement. As they followed the rotund ghost down the hall, they noticed all the portraits had their backs pointedly turned to them. "You can't report what you don't see, I suppose" mused Harry to himself. "At least the mooning-charm had worn off long ago."
As they walked up to the seventh floor, the staircase they were on suddenly started swinging, as they had the habit of doing in Hogwarts. The four kids grabbed the rails and held on, looking around with mixtures of curiosity and annoyance.
"The stairs are stopping at that large painting" Harry said as they eyed the new destination the stairway slowed. It was a huge rendition, twenty feet high and almost as wide, of a simple countryside, woods on the left and right and foreground of the canvas, a pleasant clearing taking up the majority of the painting, with a small stone cottage surrounded by trees barely discernable in the far distance. The painting was one of the many that were so high on the castle walls in the stairwell that it was too far to bother noticing, and the absence of people in it made most people ignore it all together.
"It looks like a simple landscape." Hermione pondered.
"Things are rarely as they seem" Luna mused dreamily.
They jumped back as Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, floated up through the stairs and looked at them.
"Ah, good job, Friar. Nobody has been here in, oh, quite a few years. All right you four – go on in – we have been looking forward to this." With that, the two ghosts gestured at the painting, which Luna walked right into without hesitation. She stopped and looked back at the remaining wizards with her typical smile, and when they finished gaping, they followed through.
Harry and his friends were standing in a fragrant field. It was summer by the blooms on the gorse and warm fragrant air. Luna bent over and picked some wild flowers and tucked them in her long hair contentedly while the other three shielded their eyes and looked around. Harry looked back where they had come from and could see Hogwarts through the stretchy varnish window, just like at Gringotts when he hid in the painting to hear Sirius' will. Hermione and Neville joined him gaping out at the deep stairwell with a slight feeling of vertigo and nausea, and watched the fairies that had been in Luna's hair waving goodbye, flying back to the suitcase. They could see someone several stories below ascending the stairs, so they stepped back quickly and walked swiftly toward the cottage to avoid being noticed.
"Where now?" Neville asked, looking with interest at a shrub. "I'm positive we are in Scotland by the plants here, but exactly where and when I have no idea."
Hermione frowned at the cottage, deep in thought, and glanced in back of them again at the window to the school. With a shrug she turned again and started to follow Luna, who was walking to the door of the cottage without hesitation. The cottage seemed to be built on the edge of a steep cliff, but the gorse and trees were so thick by the time they got to the quaint little building, they found there was no way to get close enough to look down and get a bearing of their location.
The cottage was stone with thatch roof. There was nothing to give away a time period – the only items in the front were a few chickens and an axe stuck in a log next to a pile of wood. The window to Hogwarts was far in the distance – if someone with hawk-like vision was looking at the painting from the far away seventh floor landing, they might be able to make out four figures milling around a door, but it wasn't likely.
Luna knocked on the wood door as the three looked hesitantly around. A woman's voice, musical in pitch, called out "coming!" and they could hear footsteps shuffling on what was probably a dirt floor. The door swung open and a short, plump and frankly adorable witch looked them over, hands on hips and smiling in a most welcome manner.
"Well, well, well! Luna! Neville! Harry! Hermione!" She nodded at each in turn. "We have been looking forward to this day! Come in, come in!" She stepped aside and gestured in.
They bent their heads to duck into the small door and entered. It was a one room affair, with rough unfinished stone walls. The floor was indeed dirt, and a large fireplace was centered on the far wall with a back door next to it. There were a couple rough window openings, with no glass, and the walls were lined with rustic wooden benches to sit on. Three of these were occupied by two wizards and a witch, who were all studying Harry and his friends with great interest. "Please, join us" the plump host gestured to the benches.
Everyone was sitting, Harry feeling very odd and uncomfortable, looking at each other and the wizards of the painting. A tall, broad warrior of a wizard stood up and greeted them. "Introductions are in order. Welcome to the Founder's Hut. I am Godric Gryffindor, the lovely lady whom let you in is my wife, Helga Hufflepuff, and this," he gestured to a lean, dark haired and shrewd looking wizard, "is Salazar Slytherin, and here" motioning to a stately ebony haired witch, "is his wife Rowena Ravenclaw."
If this strange introduction in a strange place had happened a year ago, the four youths would have been dumfounded and frankly, disbelieving. Instead, they nodded politely without a trace of doubt.
"This is an extreme honor" Harry spoke for the four of them.
Hermione agreed. "Hogwarts: A History says that there are no surviving portraits of the founders. Have you always been here?"
Salazar smiled at his heir. "My dear Hermione, we will explain all." He conjured tea in rough earthenware cups and oak cakes for everyone, and continued. "Right, where to begin…"
"This painting, dear" his wife interrupted.
"Ah, yes. First of all, Harry, you have in your possession three portraits that contain the true souls of the individuals – not just portraits – your parents and godfather. It's not unheard of. We are the same – we truly are the founders. Rowena was given a vision of the future, and we realized that through out history Hogwarts would have good headmasters, excellent headmasters and some, er, not-so-excellent. To keep our Hogwarts on track we decided to not come back as ghosts, which can be banished, but to hide in here, giving help where needed."
Rowena smiled at her husband. "And here we are. We get to watch the students and communicate constantly with Hogwarts, and when the need arises, choose our heirs like you, and train them ourselves."
Hermione looked sharply at the founders. "Did you use the soul liberator ritual?" she gasped, recalling the dark ritual Griphook taught them about.
The four founders looked at her with amusement. "No" Rowena stated, "The soul liberator is for giving yourself the power of choice after death, if that makes sense. We knew we were staying here."
"So" Helga broke in crisply, "are you kids ready to get some real training?" Excited grins lit up in four faces. "Most lessons will be one-on-one, but there will be some group lessons – dueling in particular. Let's get you settled in."
With that everyone cleaned their cups with waves of wands which Helga banished to a shelf, and they followed the founders out a back door. The adults gave the kids a moment to enjoy the view – the back garden was maybe 3 foot deep, and as they had suspected, ended abruptly at the edge of a cliff, maybe 100 feet down. Below was a large field, dotted with deep yellow gorse, and ending at a huge castle on a lake.
"Hogwarts?" breathed Hermione.
Salazar beamed at his student. "Yes – Hogwarts as we built her. We felt it was the best way to steer our beloved school back in line when the vision has been lost."
They stood for a while, gazing out and picking up subtle differences from the school they were familiar with. The most glaring disparity was the lack of people and activity. It was very quiet. Even in the summer at their Hogwarts there would be professors, special studies students from other schools or programs, salesmen, and more milling the grounds, but this was empty. Also missing were the flags and banners that they were use to seeing on the roofs and entryways, and all the windows were either open or with mullioned clear glass – not a trace of stained glass to be seen. The one thing most missing in Harry's observations was the Quidditch pitch, but he didn't really expect to see one at this time in history.
The founders led them over to steps carved into the cliff wall, which were wide enough to go down without a feeling of uneasiness. Although it was quite a distance, they covered it quickly, and before they could feel hot or tired, found themselves at the main entrance of their beloved school.
The inside of Hogwarts was far different from modern day. They had a glance in the Great Hall, where the ceiling wasn't enchanted yet, and the teacher's table wasn't on a raised platform. The halls were empty and the staircases still. Classrooms were furnished with simple benches and few tables. At the stairs the men took Harry and Neville and the women took Hermione and Luna to their rooms.
Rowena smiled at the wistful look Neville was giving the departing Luna. "Don't worry, Mr. Longbottom. We will meet again for the evening meal." He nodded and followed Godric and Salazar up the stairs in the direction of their old Gryffindor tower. Sure enough, they came to a door that stood where the portrait of the Fat Lady use to hang, and entered to their old common room. Harry and Neville were gaping – instead of a common room it was one large dorm room now, with the familiar fireplace but three large poster beds, trunks, work tables and benches to sit at. Missing was the comfortable leather furniture and paintings on the wall, replaced with bright colored tapestries that helped to cut down drafts.
"Where do the stairs go now?" Harry asked with curiosity.
Godric shrugged "storage rooms, owlery, observation tower. When we built Hogwarts there weren't as many students as you have now, but we hoped there would be. So we designed her with plenty of space to expand.
"So what we use for the Gryffindor dorm in present day is now where all the boys sleep?" Harry mused. "Where are the girls? And why isn't this guarded by a portrait?"
Salazar, opening a heavy curtain covering a window, said "the ladies live in what you know as the Ravenclaw tower. And with few students and a lack of inter-house rivalry, there hasn't been a need for security yet."
"Who's the third bed for?" Neville asked, looking around for another person.
With a mysterious smile Salazar told them "you will be meeting the rest of the students and staff at dinner, and your room mate should be showing up soon. There are not many, being perpetual summer in this portrait time but you will enjoy your companions." The two founders headed for the door, with a cheerful "take some time to unpack and rest – the bell will ring in an hour or so to call everyone to dinner. Please change into your new robes you will find in your trunks."
The door shut leaving Neville and Harry looking around in a state of mild shock. Neville eagerly walked over to a bed flanking the fireplace and opened the trunk. "Any preference for your bed?"
Harry shook his head and chose the bed next to Neville's. It was then a handsome youth with an extraordinary ruffed collared shirt under his robes came through the door. The young man had a wispy blond beard, outlandish mustache, and a good natured air about him. With a double take, Harry gasped out "Sir Nick?"
Breaking out in an ear to ear grin, the youth adjusted his collar and winked. "I think the age and having my head firmly attached does give me a more attractive appearance, don't you?"
"How?" Neville walked up to him, thrusting out his hand for a firm shake. "It's great to see you like this! But aren't you from the 1500s?"
Nicolas sat down on the unclaimed bed, and again adjusted his clothing. His habit of fussing with his collar seemed to indicate he was either a touch vain, or the clothing of the era was pretty uncomfortable. "Yes, I do not come from this point in time, but the founders came to the conclusion it helped students to have familiar faces. It also gives us ghosts a huge break to inhabit bodies for a time. Oh you don't know how I'm looking forward to the feast!" He smacked his lips with the anticipation of a real meal.
Harry shuddered a bit, recalling the Deathday feast he had been invited to in his second year. But shaking himself from the memory, he exclaimed "Brilliant! And it's neat to see you our age. I take it you still have your memories and skills from adulthood?"
The former ghost laughed. "Do you mean 'can I still kick your butt in dueling', young Harry?" Sir Nicolas had taught Harry dueling for many hours in Godric's Suitcase.
Harry burst into laughter. "As if! Your training in the trunk was excellent, Sir Nicolas, but with both of us being solid, we will see who is the best!" He opened the trunk at the foot ofhisbedand started to pull out his new clothing, while the three of them continued to chat.
Wizarding clothing wasn't fickle to the whims of fashion as it is in the muggle world, and despite the fact they were a thousand years back in time, their new uniforms were easily recognizable as wizard robes. The outer robes were woven of a courser material than their contemporary ones, but still black. Under those was a floor length undergarment of finer linen, dyed purple. The outfit was finished with soft leather boots, cuffed at the calf, matching belt, and a black wool wizard's hat.
"Um, H-H-Harry?" Neville was stuttering, which was never a good sign.
"What's wrong, Nev?" Harry was beginning to remove his muggle clothes, fold them and place them in the bottom of his trunk.
"Did they give you underwear?" Neville was pawing through his trunk in a near- panic.
"Nev, my pal, we are a thousand years in the past. We have a choice of either making sure we never fall in an undignified way, or we can keep our solitary pair of 'y-fronts' clean and serviceable with magic. Guess which I'm going to do." Harry nodded, waving his wand over his lower region. This pair of under shorts was going to hate him by the time the summer was done.
O0o0o0o0o0o0o
The first dinner was exciting for the founderettes. Instead of four huge house tables and a teacher platform, there was one large table in the center of the room that everyone sat at together. Harry, Neville, and Sir Nick joined the girls, and were amused to see them in outfits identical to their own. "So, did you get any undies in your trunks?" Harry sent to Hermione with a mischievous grin. He was rewarded with a gasp from Hermione who was furiously blushing and refusing to meet his eyes.
"Honestly" Luna broke in telepathically, "we have heard of cleaning charms".
Salazar broke out in a hearty laugh. "That does seem to be the topic of most students' first concerns when they get here. Sorry to disappoint you children, but undergarments will not be invented for quite a few hundred years yet, and we are all privy to your inner-mind conversations."
Everyone burst into loud chortling. Introductions were made around the table, and the youths were delighted to find they were sharing summer lessons with not only the youthful Sir Nicolas, but also Anne Washbourne, the quiet future ghost of Ravenclaw. Staff included a younger Bloody Baron Augustus Schacht and 'Fat' Friar Charles. The biggest surprise, however, was a lovely lady sitting between the Baron and Friar. She was middle aged, with fascinating features that seemed to be more African than English, except her skin was gray and mottled, just like the rough granite walls of the castle. She was introduced as Lady Hogwarts.
"You are the manifestation of Hogwarts soul?" Luna asked with interest.
The gray lady nodded and spoke in the most mesmerizing voice. It was ancient yet young, gravely and musical, rich and deep with wisdom. "Yes, Luna. I choose to take this form when heirs need training. It makes it easier to interact and bond. It's one of many reasons Headmaster Dumbledore is not finding me as responsive to his needs lately." She gave a wry smile.
The dinner itself was rather bland when compared with contemporary fare, but satisfying. There was rustic bread that was much different than the bread the four were use to eating, and fresh, sweet, creamy butter and milk. The main course was a hearty stew, and there were some seasonal fruits to end the meal. The food was served by a couple of house elves in person, and Harry was pleased to see how at ease the elves were – chatting and interacting with the wizards and witches with no sign of the forced humility of Dobby's peers. They even wore clothing – real clothing, not the crazy patchwork of the free elf, or the hideous towels/pillowcases of the 'owned' elf.
After dinner the foursome spent a lovely evening in the courtyard with the now solid ghosts (who would on occasion have to leave to answer a call to Dumbledore or other present-day duties), the founders and Lady Hogwarts, as they called her. Rowena was playing a lute and Salazar accompanied her on recorder, while Godric sang in a rich baritone a song about Merlin and a battle he fought against three harpies.
It felt strange to be on a first-name basis with a founder, but Hermione was slowly getting use to it. She worked up her courage for a question after the song was over. "Salazar, why are we taught that you left the school because of conflict with the other three?" she asked him.
He snorted, polishing the instrument with his robe. "That rumor has been going around for centuries. I'm not sure who started it – Almand the Addlepated I think. It was probably his idea of a prank, which was taken as truth by a not-so-bright under-secretary. Helga rolled her eyes in agreement. "Nope – I've never fought with my friends and wife any more than any other wizard."
"Do all the Headmasters have access to you through this painting?" Luna asked, looking contentedly at the sunset.
"No, Luna" Rowena answered. "Lady Hogwarts works the stairs to gain access to us only on our wishes or permission. Only heirs and headmasters who ask for help and are deemed worthy are given our assistance. When a headmaster goes astray without repentance, he certainly will not see us. We give warnings through Lady Hogwarts, and if unheeded, she starts to withdraw from a headmaster in error."
The most wonderful day ended as the sun dipped behind the forbidden forest, and the four new/old students went to their respective dorms to bed. Tomorrow training would begin in earnest.
Sadly, the next four chapters will probably have a longer time between updates. I realized a while back that 22-25 needed more work. So with all the excellent suggestions I got in reviews, I'm working hard to make them much better. Do no fret – updates will be at least twice a week, but who knows – my son is working on so easier subjects this week, so perhaps I'll get them done in the normal time.