Disclaimer: Even though I'm sure you think that I came up with the Harry Potter characters, I didn't.

The Silver Horn

Chapter 6

After a cheery lunch, Harry walked alongside of Helga to a room filled with healing potions and strange objects.

"So how's your day been so far?" asked Helga, with a smile on her face.

Harry stuck out his tongue in a panting motion. "But," he said with a sideways grin, "it's way better than the Dursleys!"

Helga stared straight at the boy and said solemnly, "What the Dursleys did to you wasn't right; you know that Harry, don't you?"

Harry looked down. "It wasn't that bad," he whispered, "Some kids have it worse."

"Harry…"

The boy didn't answer. Helga sighed, then reluctantly changed the subject. "So, you've done physical training with Godric, transfiguration with Rowena, and now it's on to the best subject of all—Charms!"

Harry lifted his head and laughed at the small witch's antics. "Another test?" he guessed.

"Yup!" Helga said cheerfully. "I'll give you some new spells to learn and see how fast you are able to learn them.

Harry groaned.

About what he thought was a million wand strokes later, Helga finally motioned for Harry to stop. She had a big smile on her face.

Harry looked at her questioningly.

"Well, you obviously inherited your mother's talent," she said brightly.

The boy smiled, then looked thoughtfully up at her. "How do you know my mum anyways?"

"I've seen her," the witch answered. "No, not physically, but we spirits can see the past and…the future."

Harry's eyes widened. He leaned forward as he whispered, "Do you know what will happen? Will I defeat Voldemort?"

Helga shook her head. "No, my child. I see many futures, but I do not see the future."

Harry's eyebrows knitted together.

"There is a future where Voldemort is killed by you, and all is well. There is another one where Voldemort prevails. And another where Voldemort dies but the world is in ruins. I have no way to tell which future will actually come to be. I'm sorry."

Harry nodded slowly. "I can understand that."

"That is why the Fates have asked us to train you. So the best possible future can come true."

"What was my mum like?" Harry asked abruptly.

Helga looked at the boy tenderly. "She was bright and cheerful, but had a temper that came and went quickly. One minute her eyes would be shooting sparks and she would be yelling; the next, she would be smiling, as calm as can be."

Harry listened, his eyes never leaving the witch's face.

"She was the smartest witch at Hogwarts, witches and wizards combined. But, she had a dry wit and sarcasm that rivaled the Slytherins'. She could definitely be cunning if she had to be. The dark humor often came up when she was with Severus Snape."

Harry sat silently, then asked softly, "Did they really love each other?"

Helga smiled, "They were very much in love."

"Do I look like her?" he questioned.

Helga laughed, "You do, but you definitely have your father in you also."

Harry jokingly made a face.

"Your eyes, though, they are brighter than hers. I would guess that your power is greater. Power can manifest itself in eyes. Lily probably blocked some of your power so that you would be less like Severus. Your father is very powerful, you know."

"I miss her," he whispered, eyes bright, but face devoid of emotion.

"I know," Helga said softly, then came to wrap her arms around him. "I know."

Harry closed his eyes as he felt the Founder's embrace. The hurt in his heart eased a little. It was almost as if his mother was holding him. Almost.

Harry stepped into the potions lab, his eyes roaming around, looking for the Founder.

"Snape." A voice said crisply. A man walked out of the shadows. Salazar.

He nodded curtly to Harry and pointed. "The instructions are on the board. Begin."

He sneered as Harry just stood there. "Are you deaf, boy?"

Harry flinched at the old name.

Salazar's voice softened a little. "Brew the potion, Snape. Go on; we don't have all day."

Harry nodded, then walked over to a table. He looked back at the Slytherin, who had walked to his desk. Salazar raised one eyebrow, but made no move to get up and watch Harry's efforts. The boy reddened and started to gather ingredients.

Harry stirred the potion once more counterclockwise, then took the cauldron to Salazar to be inspected. He reluctantly admitted to himself that potion making wasn't so bad. Without constantly watching for Malfoy's pranks and Snape's bat-like form swooping over him at every moment, he felt surprisingly relaxed as he worked. He even felt the faint stirrings of "like" toward potion brewing. What horror!

He placed the cauldron gently on Salazar's desk. The Potions Master took a small whiff of Harry's potion. He looked at the color and stirred it to study its texture. He frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. Harry's heart sank.

"The potion is supposed to be lime green," the Founder said sternly, echoing Harry's previous doubts.

"I know." Harry whispered softly, his head down. He was a failure at potions, no matter who his father was. The calm, peaceful feeling that had come over him before vanished.

"However," Harry's head snapped up, "your potion skills are acceptable, and I believe they can be improved."

Harry looked at the man incredulously.

"Yes," Salazar smirked, "You are definitely better than what your father made you out to be. I looked into his mind earlier to see what I could discover of your previous potion skills. Although he is a competent Potions Master, he did not teach you the basics well. I suppose he assumed that all his students grew up in a magical home, already knowing the more obvious facts about potions. Rather stone-headed of him I might say."

"Hey!" Harry uttered without thinking. "That's my father you're insulting!" His eyes widened as he realized what he had just said, then clapped his hand over his mouth.

Salavar's mouth twitched slightly in amusement. "Out with you, brat. Helga will have my hide if you're late to dinner."

Harry shuffled awkwardly on his feet, muttered a "Thanks," and scurried out of the room.

"Yes," the Founder said softly. "I rather think I can make a fine Potions Master out of you yet."

Dinner was a comfortable affair. The Founders chatted amongst themselves, occasionally bringing Harry into the conversation.

Harry, though, was content to just sit and stare at the food. There were so many choices. He felt as if he were in a dream. It was about a million steps up from what he had at the Dursleys'. Scratch that; he didn't even get food at the Dursleys'.

"Harry, are you just going to look at the food, or are you actually going to eat it?" Godric asked, eyes laughing.

Harry flushed and ducked his head. He would save thinking about the Dursleys for later.

After dinner, the five sat on couches in the Gryffindor's living room. A fire was crackling gently in the hearth. They all sat reading different books in a comfortable silence.

Helga looked at the boy as he slowly nodded off to sleep. He looked so childlike with his face relaxed and without worries. So many people expected so much out of him, yet he was only a boy, a boy who craved a normal life. She glanced at the others.

"Let him sleep," Rowena said softly, echoing the thoughts of the other Founders. They all felt like they wanted to preserve this sense of peace forever.

Godric smiled fondly at the Harry. He had only known the boy for a day, yet seeing his past courage and perseverance before meeting him made him feel as if he had known the boy forever. There was a protective urge that rose in him every time he looked at Harry.

Salazar gave a sudden cough, breaking the silence. He scowled, faintly blushing, as the other Founders looked him questioningly.

"Way too much sappy emotion in the room," was all he muttered.