"You're thinking of her." Godric gently punched his friend on the shoulder, a maneuver he half-expected not to work.

Salazar blinked, his gaze breaking away from the dancers. "Who? The pest?"

"The pest," Godric repeated. Yes, the pest certainly was in view, whirling around the dusty hall of the castle, laughing as Derek Cordor held her closer. "She certainly is a flirt in her own right."

"A tramp," Salazar nodded. "Godric, exactly what are you accusing me of?"

Godric laughed, brushing hair from his eyes. In all honesty, he had no idea what he was accusing Salazar of. If there was anyone to tease, it would be Rowena Ravenclaw. He had heard enough satisfying rumors–or at least what the ladies considered satisfying, as if all rumors were nothing–to hold anything over the girl's head. "Maybe you should just ask her to dance."

"Hmm." Salazar's smile broke through the scattered beginnings of a beard. "She'd step on my foot. You know she would."

"She likes to tease. Much too smart for her own good."

"Godric, did you come all the way here to tell me anything important?"

"All the way from where?"

"You know what I mean."

Rowena and her partner whirled past, the girl giving both men a snippish grin. Salazar in his familiar immaturity stuck his tongue out at her. "Speak up, brother."

Brother. No word could have been more true. The past eight years in the same household had been pleasant ones. As pleasant as they could be, for nothing had come close to the terror of what had happened to Rowena and Heather. "Perhaps I could wait to bring this up to Jonas and Terminus."

Salazar glared. "Without speaking to me first?"

"It's just an idea. . ." He pretended not to notice as Salazar pointed a long finger at the floor. Something messy for Derek Cordor to slip in.

The fall was terribly funny, especially since Rowena gracefully managed to avoid it, with a quick step and a laughing hop backwards.

"You're aware that the Fighters have slipped back into silence during the past few years," Godric said.

Salazar moved his hand, the slippery mess fading. "Yes. The rumors are is that all threat has slackened."

"You can't possibly believe those."

"Well, they haven't tried anything lately."

"Ask the Weasley's little girl about it. She's great at making up stories about the Fighters."

"Godric, she's seven."

Marigold had brought her children to the manor. Most likely Latiya Weasley was chasing after her brothers and sisters upstairs and pestering Jonas. The girl was terribly intelligent. Which was part of Godric's plan.

"A school," he announced.

"A school?" Salazar stared at him, dark eyes brightening as his mouth flipped upward into a grin. "Like the silly lessons Jonas and Terminus did for us?"

Four pesky students running around in half-chaos trying to avoid doing whatever little spell work the elders wanted to dump on them. "Sort of."

Now he had Salazar's full attention. "I've already mentioned this to Helga. She thinks it's a wonderful idea. And I'm sure my uncle would approve."

"Yes, but. . .but why?"

"Why not? Does it bother you?"

"You've heard what the Fighters' seers have said. That's why they hate us so much. And the Muggles. Some dark power arising in the future."

"And you've heard what else has been said. Besides, seers are often wrong. And. . . well, they say good can arise from this situation."

Salazar shook his head, grin returning. "You're mad. Absolutely mad. Maybe I will ask Rowena for a dance."

Godric grabbed his sleeve. "Hear me out. You know you're not against the idea; I can see that much."

"You see wrong."

Godric refused to release his grip. "You know this is what Jonas and Terminus have been planning all along." He half-expected Salazar to pull away again. "You know. If we have a school, we can prepare for whatever comes along in the future."

"You trust our little band of wizard children?" One of Caspian and Heather's children darted past, a piece of cake splattered over his mouth. "You want to train one of those."

"Maybe when he's older. After all, Albeser is my cousin. And anyone in my family is, of course, bound to be wonderful."

"You fool." But at least Salazar paused to consider this. "Maybe you should go ask Helga to dance."

"You know she won't come down."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Rose decided the girl had to be some relative of some guest she hadn't bothered to meet. After all, Lord Terminus knew plenty of people. And the castle was so huge that it was entirely logical for someone to get lost among the twisting staircases and doors and a house-elf feeling particularly tricky that night. Maybe it was one of Rowena's friends. Or kin to Helga or Heather. A Weasley. That family her little sister had married into was large enough.

She saw the girl pass the room, long blonde hair tied back in a thick braid plaited with green ribbons. Determined enough. At least she was pretending to know where she was going.

"Hello?" Rose called, not even bothering to glance out the door. "Are you lost?"

It took a moment for the girl to reappear; at first Rose believed the girl hadn't heard her.

Then the girl was back in the door way. A small girl, scarcely bigger than a child. Rose would have considered her one if she didn't have every other feature of a woman.

Rose set down her hairbrush and dipped into a curtsey. "I'm Lady Rose Gryffindor. I don't believe we've been introduced."

The girl returned the curtsey, her braid falling over her shoulders. "Aw, yes. I've heard many wonderful things about you, Lady. The one with those pitiful Muggle relatives of your late husband."

Rose decided already she liked the girl.

The girl arose, green eyes sparking with kindness. "My name is. . . Tanith. We haven't been introduced, Lady, but I am a friend of your son."

"Godric?"

Tanith shook her head. "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting that one, though I have heard just as many wonderful things about him. I'm a friend of Salazar's."

Rose stiffened. Few people referred to Salazar as her son. "Oh. I don't believe he has mentioned you before."

Tanith giggled, a pleasant sound. She was a nice girl. "Don't think me a whore, Lady. I've no such affection for Salazar, so you must not question his respectability. I grew up with him, before the death of his father." Her green eyes locked with Rose's.

No. Rose found her hand slipping to where she kept her wand. "Yes. Siyth was one of the Fighters, that sect of the Order of the Pheonix. He was betrayed by them. A Muggle named Malak murdered him."

Tanith lowered her head, a moment of sorrow and grief. "How terrible. Salazar rarely mentioned it to me."

The girl knew nothing. Rose relaxed.

"Of course, we both know that's not the truth. Siyth Slytherin died in no such way, Lady. I'm sure you are perfectly aware of that."

The wand was in Rose's hand before she was aware. "I don't know of what you speak."

Tanith laughed again, louder than before. Her eyes sparkled as she did. It almost wasn't natural. "Don't worry, Lady Gryffindor. Your secret is safe with me. And I must compliment you on your tactics. A perfect opportunity."

The night was back, clear before Rose's eyes. The pile of bones, Siyth staring at her, throwing every old lie of love back in her face. . . so much pleasure.

"It was lovely to meet you, Lady Gryffindor," Tanith said, curtseying again. "And I perfectly understand your need for revenge." She left to leave the room. "I must find Salazar now. And I agree with you. Murder can taste so wonderful."

The wand dropped from Rose's hand.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Godric stood at the bottom of the staircase. Upstairs the girls were getting ready, the others besides Rowena who had thrown herself down to the dance early. No doubt Helga was upstairs with Marigold and his mother. Heather had to be around here somewhere, perhaps wondering where her child was. So many children. Albeser was wonderful to tease, though. And so would Helga. If she bothered to come down.

A spark of blonde hair in the shadows.

His heart skipped a beat. Helga? Helga rarely showed herself at these kinds of things.

"Helga?" he called. "Helga Hufflepuff, answer me this minute!"

The blonde hair returned. It wasn't Helga's.

"You must be Godric Gryffindor," a voice called. Charming. Female. She appeared, a girl. "I am Tanith."

He had never seen the girl before in his life.

Something wasn't right. For some reason, his first thought was to rush to his wand. But he couldn't. "I wasn't aware anyone by that name was invited."

"I'm a friend of your mother's. Perhaps she should introduce us."

"That's a lie." The words were out before he realized.

And then she was before him, a marvelous and pointless example of Apparating. She was terribly pretty, blonde with green eyes. "You are clever, Lord Godric. Much more clever than your father's kin gives you credit for."

"You know them?"

"I know what I need to know concerning them." Her dress was green, the color of grass and swamp. "They are furious about your father's death. Though I doubt you can remember that."

My father, he thought. He hadn't thought of him in years. Time passed and healed scars.

"Did your mother ever tell him how your father died?"

"She had mentioned it in passing." Why was he having his conversation? He grabbed Tanith's wrist.

With a laugh she pulled away. "He was good friends with your uncle. Frederick, I believe his name was. Frederick was killed by angry Muggles who feared his power. Your father. . . was furious. He was a Muggle, but he threw himself into what he didn't belong."

He grabbed at her wrist again. Why? He never treated a woman this way. In a moment of shame he pulled away. "How do you know this?"

Tanith laughed again. "Silly boy, everyone knows this. It was big news among our people, when your father was killed for what didn't concern him. Unfortunately, that's not the truth. Muggles didn't kill him."

"Muggles wouldn't kill their own kind."

"Don't be naive, Lord Godric. They do it all the time. But not in this case. Your father. . . was not killed by his own people."

Godric froze. He hadn't heard this. Did his mother know? "Who are you? You don't know my mother."

Tanith turned to leave. "You are very smart, Lord Godric. But I haven spoken to your mother before. But don't worry about your father; your mother has already given her revenge."

Behind him Godric could hear the sounds of the party, drowned as if in rain.

"Malak killed no one," Tanith continued. "He was innocent."

Malak had been found dead. He deserved it, for what he had done to Heather.

"Your father had a sword, a gift that was to go to you. Ask for it."

The girl called Tanith Appareted again.

"Ricky!"

He half-expected it to be her voice all over again. He stared up to see his mother rushing toward him, face pale. "Ricky. Did you see–?"

"A girl?" He nodded.

His mother stopped before him, panting. She suddenly looked so weak. "Ricky. . . find your brother. I need to tell you something."