oooP1ooo
(Neville)
"Neville."
Salazar kicked his shin. Godric looked up from breakfast and followed his brother's gaze. Hermione stood across from them, the long Gryffindor table and bench between them and the other house tables spread out behind her. Morning light streamed across the Slytherin table.
"Hello," Godric said reluctantly. He didn't need to deal with her attempts to help this early in the day.
Hermione Granger dropped her pile of books onto the table and sat down, entirely ignoring Salazar. "I've been looking over medical studies about magic stagnation to try to help find a solution for you.—It's fascinating how many purebloods marry each other. Do they not know about birth defects and how genetics work? While magic seems to have removed the visible birth defects, it should still be a concern!"
Salazar perked up. "Where'd you find those studies?"
The girl scoffed at Salazar, her gaze moved over him judgmentally, "Why? They are over your head. Anyway, you don't need them. I do.—Neville needs so much help. It's already October and he still cannot cast lumos or the color changing charm." She turned back to Godric, dismissing Salazar. "Everything is so backwatered. Do you know if your parents are purebloods? I bet they are."
Salazar's face darkened as she spotted off nonsense at Godric. The Gryffindor internally groaned, unable to stop the sharp words Salazar said next.
"He's not some inbred dog!" Salazar snapped, "And who said you can help? Or that he wants your help?"
Godric turned back to Hermione as she scowled at Salazar. Hermione's face turned red, jaw tightened stubbornly but a shine gleamed across her eyes, hinting at tears. Her hands flew up to wave in emphasis as she demanded, "I'm in his house and all his classes! I have always been a top student and recommended as a mentor to students that struggled. The real question is what you could possibly do for him that I can't. You're just a bigoted Slyther–"
The girl's mouth continued to move but no sound escaped. A quick glance revealed Sally's yew wand pointed at the girl from under the table. Salazar slid it back into his pocket. Hermione picked up and slammed her books down again before she stomped away. A professor would likely make an appearance soon.
He didn't know if he should point out that Sally's actions hadn't helped her opinion of the Slytherin house. On the other hand, the girl had spent the entire time talking about him as if he was too stupid to speak, let alone do anything without her.
Salazar pressed a palm to his forehead and rubbed a circle over the scar on his head. "I shouldn't have done that...Do you have anything she might actually help with?" Salazar asked as he leaned an elbow against the table and looked over at him with a pinched expression.
Godric snorted in disgust at himself—at Neville. "Everything? I imagine Neville could have all the help he can get..." His words slowed as he saw Salazar frown. He jumped up, not wanting to hear Sally's thoughts on possession or lack thereof. "Well, I best get to class."
"We've potions first."
Godric internally groaned.
Salazar rose and led the way out of the Great Hall. They passed Professor Sinstra and Hermione on their way to the dungeons.
"–but professor I was bespelled!" Hermione cried out.
"There isn't anything to do with no witnesses. And you are clearly speaking, Miss Granger," explained the astronomy professor, "If this happened in the Great Hall, you should have brought it to the attention of the professor or prefects watching over it."
The girls' bushy hair bristled as she stomped the floor in frustration. They continued on, Godric glanced at his brother. Salazar grimaced but did not stop to accept the consequences of his actions.
As they entered empty stairs, Salazar spoke up quietly, "You don't believe you're Neville, even after what the dryads said?"
Godric sucked in a deep breath. What the dryads said had to be impossible. They only had the tree spirits' words and while they were correct about Sal being a druid, it didn't mean they were correct about this. For all the philosophy surrounding reincarnation, none had evidence to back it up. You'd think those philosophers would have evidence if it was true.
He gripped his stack of school things to keep from gesticulating widely and asked in turn, "And you think you are Harry Potter?"
Salazar didn't respond.
A bell rang through the hall as they reached the dungeons, warning that class was about to start. Around a bend revealed a line of Slytherins entering a room. Salazar led him over but paused and glanced back at him with a worried turn to his lips.
"Potions is a disaster of a class."
Godric blinked as he processed the statement. "What?"
"Ten points from Gryffindor for dilly dallying in the hallways," a voice called out from down the hallway, a sharp answer to Salazar's words.
Hermione brushed past them quickly, expression hard and eyes shining. Godric turned and found a tall, sallow skinned man sneering at them as he stalked towards their classroom. Salazar caught his arm and dragged him toward the class. The man followed them.
He was the professor, Godric realized with growing horror as Salazar dragged him to a desk in the middle of the room. The hateful man waved a wand as he slammed the door shut. The blackboard filled with basic instructions.
"Begin."
Godric's mouth fell open at the ridiculous "teaching" style and turned to Sally for understanding. His brother grimaced, noted down the instructions and ingredients and then pulled him about the room. After following Salazar around like a duckling, collecting the exact same bizarre ingredients from the various containers lining the walls, he tried to decipher the instructions on his own—no one was talking or working together.
He stared at the first item. Flay a bamboo shoot. That seemed logical: take the skin off. It would help to know what bamboo shoots were, though.
The Gryffindor founder stumbled through the instructions by guesswork and watching Salazar.—He got the strong impression that Salazar wasn't entirely certain what he was doing either.—Water was set to boil. Flayed bamboo shoots and haphazardly chopped fairy wings were tossed in.
Then the professor announced, jarring every child from their desperate concentration, "Two points from Gryffindor for not following the instructions."
"But professor–" squawked Hermione from her lonely seat in the very back.
"Another three points for talking back to a professor," he drawled out, voice dripping with derision at the back of the class.
Sally grasped Godric's sleeve, stopping him from turning around in outrage. Godric stared at his brother, bewildered. With a deep frown, the Slytherin slowly, slightly shook his head no. Godric gritted his teeth together and turned back to his potion making.
They were children—they could not throw out a teacher from the school. Not blatantly, at least.
He picked up the first of many spoon options, there were various metals and woods to choose from but the potion recipe didn't specify which to use, and dropped it into the cauldron. Godric stirred vigorously to the right seven rounds as he imagined how to remove the foul man without anyone knowing he had done it. (He was fairly certain he had miscounted the number of stirs.) He moved the potion off the fire to mix in some vervain infusion and a teaspoon, which was much smaller than he expected a spoon for tea to be, of honeywater—which was a type of tea?
Godric pushed his small cauldron back over the flame, as the next step ordered. He paused to decipher what to do next: Eviscerate Twenty Dung Beetle Eyes.
He had no bloody clue what eviscerate beetle eyes meant. Disemboweling eyes didn't make much sense. They didn't have bowels. Godric stared from the blackboard to the weird gray-black balls. He tilted the little dish they sat in and the eyes rolled.
Eyes were sort of like eggs, he guessed. There was the "yoke" inside.
Godric glanced at Salazar and then down at the tiny eyes. Was he supposed to squish out the jelly in them?
He looked to the line of Neville's tools, hazel eyes narrowed as he troubleshot his way through this mess of a class. There were spoons of every size, knives, pokers, forks, and a grater. None looked like something to eviscerate eyes with. Godric pressed his lips together as he took one of the eyes and set it with the pupil facing towards Sally's workstation—The gunk would squish out of the black of an eye, right?
He pushed his thumb down onto the eye. POP. A squirt of milky white splattered across his robes.
Godric turned green.
"Two points from Gryffindor for mishandling ingredients," snapped out the oily voice of the potions professor as he stepped up to their desk, "Mr. Longbottom, use the appropriate tool to eviscerate."
Godric glared up in annoyance and frustration. His eyes met the potions master's as he imagined ways to remove the man from Hogwarts. What was Sally playing at letting this man stay in their school?
Something pressed across his mind. A foreign whisper seemed to wrap around his surface thoughts, seeking and expecting inadequacy.—He would never be able to brew. It required a careful hand. No dunderhead could do it.
The Gryffindor founder reacted as panic and terror and not being good enough and so much more spiked up trying to overwhelm him. He attempted to push the foreignness back. Salazar had taught them all how to protect their minds. Being trapped in a child's body should not affect his occlumency.
Except it clearly had, as nothing useful happened. The foreign sense of uselessness spread and seeped into his mind, pulled at memories and thoughts that weren't supposed to surface.
He was useless.
He was just a squib unable to do anything right.
"Not a wink; not a spark. Augusta has been trying. I've seen her efforts but the boy is damaged." whispered a man through Godric's mind.
Not his memory.—Couldn't be his memory!
Panic spiked and his magic responded. The flames in all the burners and torches flickered and then exploded upward with multiple, simultaneous roars.
Children screamed, chairs scraped across the floor as the eleven year olds scattered away from the fires. Salazar jerked back from his own, his hand shot up and grabbed Godric's arm to yank Godric back from the desk also. The vile professor pulled his wand and flicked up protective barriers between the Slytherin children and their potions before turning to the Gryffindor children. He turned to Salazar and Godric last but the time taken was long enough for their potions to explode from their cauldrons.
Salazar hadn't tried to protect them. Godric had been too busy fighting down his panic and his elemental magic. The partly done potions splattered across them both, mingling together and turning into something that burned more than hot liquid should.
Panic spiked with the pain. This was his fault.
"You horrid little klutz" screeched an old woman, her voice cracking with emotion.
Magic wrapped around him and yanked him to a corner of the room. He couldn't control where he went.—No. No. NO.
"Simple headed little ingrate, eh?" scoffed an old man, wand pointed in his general direction, "Do you feel your magic yet?"
Salazar collided against him, knocking Godric back to the present. His brother's gaze snapped up at him and the shorter boy pressed himself more firmly against Godric. Godric was trembling. His breath was short and shallow and he couldn't breath right and—The professor flicked his wand toward them.
Her wand snapped out too quickly to follow. Purple strands wrapped around and tickled him. Godric giggled and laughed.—This wasn't so bad.—Except the spell didn't end. It kept going and going. Tears fell and he gasped for breath. Black spots flicker across his sight.
Something attached to the ceiling vomited pink sludge down onto them. It became a weird foam when it made contact with the splattered potions. Within seconds Godric found himself soaked through with the weird gunk. The burning heat of his magic swirling through his form faded. All that was left was the panic and whispers of memories he didn't want to believe were his.
"Breath," whispered Salazar, "breath with me."
Godric focused on his brother. The pink sludge covered the Slytherin from head to foot. His hair hung in lump chunks of messy waves and a few loose curls. The glasses usually on his nose had been pushed up onto his head and green eyes peeked out from narrowed eyes.
"Breath Godric." Salazar said again before he started to exaggeratedly, slowly suck in breath. Godric tried to match his brother's breathing.
It took multiple minutes but the panic ebbed away. With it Neville's memories faded back to the recesses of his mind where he hoped they stayed. Godric swiped some of the gunk from his face and splat it across the floor. It also splattered over some type of barrier surrounding Salazar and him—it flickered into visibility as the gunk splattered across it. Beyond were ruined desks with potions steaming and bubbling in their cauldrons. Little bubbles of protective magic covered each cauldron and none sat over the now dead burners. The professor and other children were gone.
He turned to his brother as it became clear they were stuck until the ass came for them. "I see what you mean about potions." Godric offered his concerned brother in a poor attempt to avoid talking about what had just happened.
Salazar squinted up at Godric as he attempted to whip the slug off his glasses. He looked uncertain before he finally, reluctantly, remarked, "This was actually better than I imagined for an emergency involving his class."
"What?" Godric asked, incredulously—and relieved that Sally left his panicked response alone. He didn't want to think about the panic attacks. Or why they were happening.
Slytherin flicked his hand out, causing the sticky pink gunk to splatter over the barrier and making said barrier shimmer. "I mean, he protected the children and got them out safely. He even got us, who he thinks are also children, into some area to nullify any active magic. Admittedly, I cannot access my magic nor do I think my glasses' magic will work until I reset them, and any magic in our robes will likely be permanently damaged...and who knows what this might do to our wands...but the exploded potions aren't doing any further harm."
"This wouldn't have happened at all if he hadn't verbally attacked children and bloody taught!" Godric snapped, "He was fucking with my surface thoughts even!"
"What?" hissed Salazar.
Godric gave his brother a flat look, having no plan to elaborate. Salazar had seen the results anyhow. "He's gone."
Salazar lips pressed together and he gave one sharp nod. "We'll remove him."
The door slammed open, pulling both of their attention to the entrance. A furious potions professor stalked in, followed by Madam Pomfrey.
"Godric," Salazar said as the two adults carefully cleared a path to them through all the various barriers and potentially dangerous, partly made potions.
Godric turned to look at his brother when he didn't continue.
Salazar stared back at him intently. His voice was soft, carefully low so it didn't carry as he spoke, "If we were possessing these bodies, there would be two essences.—Two cores. Two minds. Two souls.—I believe I am Harry Potter because I have one core. And I have never noticed any hint of a second mind. While I have not looked to see if there are two souls within me, I have little reason to expect more than one."
Those words haunted Godric the rest of the day, almost as much as the dark hints from the surfaced memories.
oooP2ooo
He was floating in a gray space. Images floated about him in a fog, barely discernible. There were people and places in there, fuzzy and distant. Familiar, for all that he could not remember any details.
Godric took a slow step in one direction. The fog parted away from him. He reached out but could not touch the clouds of memory. The Gryffindor relaxed and walked on, content in the knowledge he would not relive memories he didn't want to have.
He walked forever and ever. Or maybe just for a moment.
It was hard to tell because, while the fog moved away from him as he walked, nothing actually changed. The ground was the same gray space no matter how long he traveled. Changing directions made no difference. Not even the blurry images floating in the fog changed.
Frustrated, the boy–man (boy) lunged forward to see if the fog was moving the world around him so he never actually got anywhere. The god didn't move fast enough. He caught the edge of some of it.
"Frank picked this all up immediately," complained an old woman with a stuffed vulture on her large brimmed hat, "He was a natural...Why couldn't you have been more like him?"
The blond boy–redheaded man (blond) staggered back, startled at her sudden appearance. She faded away, becoming fog once more. He stumbled into more little bits of fog, as if the fog wasn't as inclined to avoid him anymore now that he supposedly wanted to reach it.
"He has no balls," continued an elderly man seated on a couch, "No character. Nothing. The boy is nothing—has there been any luck, Harfang? Algernon?"
Godric jerked at the blunt words, somehow knowing they were about him. A sharp ache speared through his chest. Anxiety teased at the edge of his mind. Godric spun on his heels away from the old man and his sharp words.
A couple were laying in medical beds like what he had seen in the hospital wing. The almost skeletal man was unresponsive. The woman was gaunt and haggard but rose to shuffle about. She had large hazel eyes just like his own. A gaunt, bony hand reached out to him. Godric held out a shaking hand, palm up, and felt something drop into it.
He looked down at a little candy wrapper.
It turned into fog.
Godric looked up. The bedridden couple were gone.
His heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the fog of memories surrounding him. He didn't want these memories. They weren't his. They could not be his memories.
Jaw clenched as he saw no escape. He took a firm step forward and grasped out at the fog as it moved just out of reach. Whispers of memories formed from the fog once more.
Golden leaves floated to the ground.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" asked the elderly man with scissors. Godric looked up at the man. He was taller than life—or perhaps the memory had the man taller than life. Before Godric could respond or try to interact, the old man faded back into the fog.
Godric snapped his hands out to grasp the fog of that particular memory, hoping to catch more of it so he might understand. (Maybe he had to understand Neville to get out of this fog.) The fog reformed into the same old man but it was of a different moment in time.
The man was on a bed covered in scaly dots and slightly green tinted skin. His glazed eyes stared directly at him. "You be a good boy, lad...for your gran," he slurred out, "Be good for her...you've Frank in you, somewhere...I...I'm–" His eyes fluttered as if the lids were too heavy to hold up. "–sure…" Air escaped the elder's cracked lips and his chest went still.
He was dead, Godric realized. Sorrow shook his shoulders. His throat clogged with emotion.
Tears clung to his lashes as he startled awake. That had been–was–
Godric closed his eyes as he acknowledged the dream wasn't fading as quickly as the last one. But, while whatever he had dreamed had been on the tip of his tongue a second ago, he could no longer recall it. All he knew was that he was deeply saddened and hurt and remembering memories that shouldn't be his to remember. The rest was gone, washed away with his mind focusing on the wakened world. The dream, memory, was gone.
He didn't want to remember.
'Two cores, two minds, and two souls' repeated in his thoughts. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about Salazar's words.
Godric rubbed his face in frustration. It would take some meditation to confirm that he had only one consciousness but he already knew he had one core. The dryads had sensed him awaken because he was bonded to Salazar through their brother bonds of old, bonds tied to the only core within this body.
Godric stared up at the canopy of the school bed—his bed.
Could he really continue to deny himself? Godric had never been one to stay purposely ignorant of the truths before him. But neither had he been known to handle some of the shit thrown at him terribly well. The years after Salazar's death was proof of that.
He could really use a drink right now. Godric wondered if Helga's curses were still in place or if he could raid her mead stash, or whatever was stored there now.—Hogwarts probably knew he wasn't allowed proper drink outside the daily meal.
Godric didn't want Salazar to find out either. Salazar wasn't allowed to know how far he had fallen. He had picked himself back up, eventually, but Godric didn't need to see even more concern from his brother. Or, worse: judgement. Not that Sally had ever judged him outside the few dalliances he had. (It wasn't his problem his brother was entirely asexual.)
He rubbed his face roughly. He put aside being Neville and considered something else. When he had died, his son had been barely married and his daughter still young. They were gone but he could learn what had happened to them. Hogwarts could tell him.
Blankets flew off and curtains pulled open at the sudden decision.
Godric glanced at the other curtained off beds. Snores filtered through the heavy curtains hiding his two roommates away. Predawn filtered through the windows. They would not awaken for hours yet. He stepped into the bathroom and locked the door.
"Hogwarts?" he called out quietly, his voice cracked as he considered what he'd learn. Part of him didn't want to know. How should he feel if life had continued on with only a blip in the daily lives of his loved ones to denote his death? Or would it be worse to hear that some hadn't been able to continue on in their daily lives because of it?
The little girl with his daughter's hair skipped into existence. "Papa!?" she greeted him as she skipped right into him for a hug. "~Good morning!~" she sang out with a little chirp.
He hugged her back, amused by her actions. Her presence had a warming effect and she smelt like Helga's kitchen. Godric couldn't help but sink into the hug a little. This warmth and soft joy helped worries fade to the back of his mind.
Reluctantly he pulled back slightly to look down at her. Godric tugged a curl of hair before tucking it behind her ear and tilted her head up so he could really look at her, look beyond the signs of his baby girl.
Hogwarts was a mix of all of them. If she had been a human girl, he'd have been worried. She was full of life and warmth and she would have become the flame that attracted all the brutish fools like moths.
He would have been ridiculously busy killing all the bastards between her, Helena, and his daughter. At least Helga's girls could handle themselves, if frighteningly well.
"Papa?" she asked sweetly, "You need something?"
His throat constricted at 'Papa'. Hogwarts was as much his daughter as Bryony. They had all left her, besides Helena. He had left her and now the first time he called her was when he wanted to demand answers. She expected that and Godric wanted to smack Salazar. Hogwarts shouldn't expect they call her only when they need something from her.
"Can't I just want a hug?" Godric countered teasingly.
Hogwarts smiled vibrantly, eyes dancing. She whispered conspiratorially, "Think I can make it mandatory, Papa? Papa Sally needs lots and lots of hugs, too."
Godric snorted. "Definitely. Sally isn't going to ask for them. You'll just have to give them."
She giggled and pressed her face into his chest, her giggles vibrating against him. Godric tugged fingers through the wild mane of red hair. It was slightly transparent and it felt more like water than hair but it slowly settled into an orderly curl as he untangled it. A contented sigh escaped the little girl and she nuzzled into his pajama shirt. (And his heart ached just a little as he was reminded once more of another little girl—but he could see it becoming a good sort of ache.)
In the end he didn't ask his hundreds of questions. This wasn't the moment for those and he didn't need to wallow. He had Salazar back. Hogwarts was here, too. And he knew his son would have handled the Pater duties well. Salton would have protected his sister, found her a good husband and made certain she was happy. Acadia had loved their children for all she had hated him. They had been fine without him.
He had his entire new life to find out how they had fared. If things had gone to hell, there was nothing he could do about it anyway. All he could do was finally get his shit together.
oooP3ooo
(Harry)
Salazar paused just inside the Great Hall. His gaze unconsciously moved toward the Gryffindor table but he knew before he looked that Godric wasn't there. Beside the double potions they had slogged through where Snape had them cleaning cauldrons and reading their school book while the rest of the class made the potion correctly, their schedules didn't line up on Fridays.
"Harry!" Susan appeared before him with a smile and multiple other Hufflepuffs trailing after her.
Hannah grabbed one of his arms while Megan claimed the other.
He glanced from one girl to the next, bemused as they pulled him to the Hufflepuff table. "Ladies."
"You've been away for ages!" Hannah complained.
Megan nodded eagerly, "We decided an intervention was needed."
"An intervention?" Salazar repeated, his amusement growing. A smile tugged at his lips as he was directed to a seat across from Ronald and Zacharias.
"Mate," greeted Ronald with a nod of his head before he returned to stuffing food into his mouth while reading a book.
"Yes." Susan stated flatly as she settled in a seat besides Ronald.
Hannah and Megan claimed seats on either side of Salazar.
"For what?" Salazar asked. A cup of tea and a bowl of simple, delicious stew appeared before him. This time he noticed someone notice the appearance of the meal—Zacharias startled and frowned when the items appeared.
Hannah scoffed and stabbed her fork into a piece of fruit. "You've decided you're a Gryffindor in disguise but that isn't true! You are obviously a Hufflepuff."
Salazar frowned. "I'm Slytherin."
Hannah rolled her eyes at him, something no one but Godric would have ever dared do to him once.—At least not to his face...Whose name wasn't Helga, thinking about it.
"You've been at the Gryffindor table all week," grumbled Megan.
"Ah." Salazar paused as he considered that. Monday had been the new moon and the purification ritual gone wrong (or right in this bizarre turn of events). He had spent the rest of the week helping Godric where he could.
Gods. It had beenless than a week. It felt like a lifetime ago.
"Don't know why you're hanging out with that squib," Zacharias stated pompously, "The poor fool won't amount to much of anything."
Salazar stiffened, his green eyes snapped to stare at the boy. He wanted to lambast him. No child of Helga would speak of another in such a way. But he wasn't really a child of Helga's. And he was not the boy's uncle.
As he hesitated for a moment, another didn't.
Ronald looked up from his book with an uncomfortable expression. Half chewed food was visible as he blurted out, face turning slightly red as if preparing for the embarrassment he knew would come from his words, "It's not right, sayin' that."
Zacharias scoffed over at the redhead. "What? It's true! He's a good-for-nothing squib and he'll amount to nothing once he's thrown out. House Longbottom should have disowned him before he ever stepped foot in Hogwarts."
"He is no squib. G-Neville was sorted just like the rest of us," Salazar finally stated, voice going cold, "Even if he was a non-magical, you shouldn't think him useless. You've no idea what muggles are capable of."
A sneer spread across Helga's grandbaby's face. It was an ugly expression. "They breed like cattle and are as dumb as pigs."
"And you are the fool to repeat words you do not understand," Salazar countered sharply, pushing his bowl of soup away so he could lean toward the boy. No eleven year old spoke like that and understood the bigotry, at least not entirely. "If you will not like the muggles, you will respect them for their progress and the danger they represent."
Zacharias scoffed, latched onto the part of Salazar's words he definitely understood, and snapped, "We'd win any fight against them!"
"Yeah, they aren't any danger to us," agreed Ronald as he turned to Salazar and waved his fork about, "They just make these funny rubber duck things and plugs that use lectricksee!"
"Do you know a shield spell that blocks physical objects? That you can throw up without words or wand movements? And in an instant?" Salazar asked before he stopped and realized what he was doing. He was arguing with children. The conversation had veered entirely off course, too.
"What'd we need a spell like that for?" blurted Ronald in honest confusion and curiosity.
Salazar looked about at the children surrounding him. Perhaps in this day and age they didn't need to know but each carried their own weapon. It would be foolish to leave them with the misconception they had the upper hand against a muggle. (They did but only as long as they kept a healthy wariness towards the muggles they might confront.)
He heaved a sigh, warped his hands around his teacup, sat back, and answered, "Muggles have their own weapons, guns and other things...They can be extremely dangerous, deadly in certain circumstances."
"I've," Susan spoke up hesitatingly from beside Ronald, "overheard my Aunt say an auror ended up at Saint Mungo's because of a gun. He was there for a whole week."
That appeared to change the children's minds. Zacharias looked stubborn but slightly worried. Ronald was wide eyed.
Salazar, seeing no good reason to jump back to the squib issue that had started the mess of a conversation, changed topics. "What book are you reading?" He tilted his chin at Ronald's book.
Ronald lit up. "Quidditch through the Ages! I'm going to try out for the team next year. My brother Charlie was the best seeker when he was here and made captain! Fred and George are beaters too, so I think I've a chance. If I do well enough I could be captain and then I could be snatched up by a professional team, maybe even the Chudley Cannons!"
"Is that your goal?" Salazar asked in interest, returning to his soup and tea as the group settled into a more comfortable atmosphere.
"Well...maybe," Ronald answered looking a little bashful, "Bill, my oldest brother, was the Head Boy! I was thinking I could shoot for that t–"
"You need to be a prefect to become Head Boy," Zacharias stated before puffing up his chest, "I will be prefect for our year. I'm descended from Helga Hufflepuff after all!"
Salazar frowned at the boy, once again struck with the need to tell Zacharias off but having no actual, reasonable, right to do so. There was only so many times he could scold children his own physical age before they start wondering about it. He had no idea how perfects were chosen which left him with no reasonable argument either.
Susan scoffed, "It's your grades that they look at to see if you're a prefect or not!"
"Well," Megan announced from her seat besides Salazar, "I'm going to make it onto the quidditch team next year, too!"
"I don't know," Hannah remarked as she stabbed at a piece of kidney pie, "Both of those things take up so much time! I think I'd much rather join the gobstones club or choir."
Zacharias stuck his nose into the air, "Well I'd never join useless clubs like those. Being Head Boy does loads for your future. My dad said most of the heads of companies were head boy."
It devolved into an argument between the four children. On the one hand he could appreciate the, somewhat childish, ambitions being displayed. On the other hand, they were arguing over who could be perfect and get on the quidditch team. Neither of which was within their control but could push them to do better in school. So it was a useless argument. One that might help their focus in learning.
He would have been perfectly happy at the argument if he wasn't stuck seated in the middle of it.
"What about you Harry?" Ronald asked, "You got in trouble for flying! I bet you could get on a team."
"He's Harry Potter, Weasley!" cried Zacharias before Salazar could speak up, "He can doanything!"
Salazar just knew he had a weird expression on his face but he couldn't help it. What did that even mean, he could do anything?
Luckily, more Hufflepuffs appeared. And they came with school books.
Justin asked as he dropped his books onto the table with a sharp bang, "Any of you finished with the six inches for transfiguration? Or the reading and summary for charms?" His gaze locked onto Salazar. "Potter?"
Salazar pulled his own books from his satchel as he said, with no small amount of relief, "I haven't had a chance to finish transfiguration yet."
"Bril," Wayne announced as he jumped onto the bench and proceeded to climb over the table to claim a seat at Megan's side. Multiple children exclaimed in outrage as a professor materialized before any of the rest could do the same. (Some reluctantly walked around the entire, long table to sit on the other side.)
It was a good hour before he felt a faint tug on the brother bonds with Godric. Gryffindor didn't twist the bond in any indicator of distress so Salazar ignored it and continued to debate over the charmwork that altered an object's physical weight. Susan and Oliver had a decent understanding of the subject matter but they were missing one aspect. It was entertaining leading them to the discovery instead of outright stating it.
"Eh...Harry?"
Salazar started as he realized Godric was standing behind Ronald.
"Go….od to see you...mate." Salazar answered even as he fought his grimace.
Godric stared. It felt as foriegn saying it as hearing it, for all that it was accurate. They had been around each other for too long if he couldn't control what name he used in front of others.
Salazar shook his head slightly and tilted his head at a free spot. "Join us? We're working on charms."
Godric nodded slowly, "I haven't done that yet."
"Here," Hannah stated, springing up from beside Salazar, "Sit here!"
Zacharias had turned red in outrage and Salazar realized the free spot was besides the uppity boy. It would be better if Godric sat further away from Helga's misguided grandchild.
"Wha–" Godric shook his head even as he relaxed at the offer, "I'm fine over here."
"Oi!" called Anthony as he and other Ravenclaw first years came over, "is this study group open to everyone?"
"Of course it is," Justin said as he looked up from his stack of books. His expression lit up, "Sue! Come here, I can't figure out this bit about dittany–"
The shy girl Salazar sat beside in charms shook her head and stalked over to the uppercrust boy, entirely relaxed. She pushed her large glasses up as she asked, "What's there to confuse?"
"Well...the changes of potency for one," Justin admitted sheepishly. Sue's exasperation made it clear this wasn't the first time he had brought this up.
"It's a matter of how you prune dittany that determines its potency," Godric stated as he veered over to the two instead of the seat Hannah had been offering up.
"Really?" Justin's head swiveled to Godric, gaze alight with hope, "Sue was saying something about how often you trim the leaves...but I haven't ever done any gardening before so-I mean-Why?"
A general shuffling of children occurred as the Ravenclaws joined the Hufflepuffs. Somehow Salazar had an expanded group of children around him to discuss charms. Multiple were surrounding Godric discussing herbology. Another group was working on history.
It was wonderful to see. The missing houses, represented only by Godric and him, were painfully obvious to him, though. His gaze wandered over the mostly empty Great Hall. None of the other first years were present which meant he couldn't attempt to pull in another Gryffindor or Slytherin even if he wanted to.
By the time the tables began to fill with the golden plates used for dinner, the group of children were putting the finishing touches on their week's worth of homework and packing up. Salazar rose as he considered what table he should sit at. He hadn't been at the Slytherin table in what felt like ages.
"Harry," Anthony said as he stepped up to Salazar even as Godric extracted himself from Justin and Oliver.
He pulled his satchel strap over his head and looked over the other three house tables as he answered distractedly, "Yes?"
"My cousin can meet this weekend."
"What?" Salazar asked in confusion, giving his entire attention to the brunet as his mind drew a blank on what the boy was talking about.
Anthony frowned and gave an uncomfortable shrug, "No worries if you don't need to meet now. But...you wanted to ask about spiders, right?"
Salazar brightened.
Godric frowned as he walked up and overheard. He asked, "Spiders?"
Anthony scuffed his foot across the stone floor as he answered, uncertain, "Giant spiders, I think?"
"Yes." Salazar said. His thoughts scrambled about for details on the giant spider corpse. He had no idea where Mipsy had put it. "Let me get back to you in the morning on where and when but that would be brilliant."
The boy relaxed and offered a grin. "Great."
Salazar nodded to him warmly before he headed out the Great Hall, dinner forgotten. He had an elf to speak to. Godric followed, his slightly taller form easily capable of keeping up with Salazar's quick pace from the room.
As they entered the stairs down to the kitchens, Godric repeated with a demanding tone, "Giant spiders?"
"Don't worry about it–"
"Seriously?" snapped Godric.
Salazar looked over at his brother and sighed at the fury glowing in hazel eyes. He grabbed Godric's arm and pulled them to the side of the hall. "You have other things to deal with, Godric. This infestation is going to take more than two eleven year olds to remove anyhow...I've a corpse of the species I want a second opinion on. That's all that is happening now."
Godric glared, narrow eyed at him. "You'll answer my questions once I see the corpse?"
"Yes."
"And not leave anything out?"
Salazar rolled his eyes at Godric. "If I don't want to answer a question, I'll tell you."
His brother pressed his lips together into a thin, displeased line. "Fine," Godric bit out before he turned and stalked back up the stairs.
The parselmouth slumped and heaved a sigh. Godric deserved to know everything but not yet. Not when he had so many other things to deal with.
oooP4ooo
(Neville)
Godric frowned with his arms crossed as he considered his brother the next morning. Salazar paced in front of the ridiculous tapestry of trolls learning to dance but not to create the temporary dueling hall. Anthony and his cousin were meeting them to look at a giant spider corpse.
He was going to get some answers today. Godric knew that Salazar's silence spoke volumes on how much his brother worried over his mental stability and how big the problems were. Salazar would just have to deal with it. He was here and he could help, no matter the fact that he couldn't control his fire element well or remembered things for the last ten years.
A door materialized on the wall across from the tapestry, different from the double doors that appeared for the temporary dueling hall he summoned up. Godric followed Sally into a modest sized room. An enormous, dead spider was curled up in a ball at the center.
"Where?" Godric demanded as he stepped up to look over the slightly decomposed corpse.
Salazar explained from the still ajar door. "A...hive, colony–" Godric turned to his brother, bemused. Salazar shook his head and continued. "–has taken up residence in one of the groves. This is a baby."
Godric straightened from his investigation of the corpse. "The inner wall–"
"I've placed a notification ward to inform me of anything headed this way." Salazar frowned, irritated at himself. "Nothing has triggered it so I believe the creatures hunt away from the school but it's not a permanent fix." Green eyes sharpened onto Godric. "It is enough of a fix until we are both ready to deal with it."
"How did they get past the wards?" Godric asked, ignoring the implications that he couldn't take out an infestation of spiders of all things, "In the wards?"
His brother grimaced but the door opened before he could say anything. Two boys entered. One was the Ravenclaw first year, Anthony, and the other an older boy. Godric estimated the new child to be a third or fourth year. The yellow and black shoulder badges marked him a Hufflepuff.
The older boy made a wounded sound and rushed over to the spider corpse. "Oh, oh!" He cried out in concern before his express resolved into resigned acceptance. "Poor boy."
"Bloody hell! where'd you find a spider that size?" gasped Anthony as he tugged nervously at a Ravenclaw badge pinned at his chest.
Salazar shrugged at Anthony before he turned to the older boy and asked, though with clear hesitance, "It's...a boy?"
"Well...I'm not sure, actually," the older boy answered Salazar as he looked up from the corpse. He waved his hands about the spider. "It's immature–"
"Immature!?" squawked Anthony.
Godric mouthed the word himself with growing horror. He started to understand how he might not be able to remove these giant spiders at the moment.
"–so there's no clear indicator yet. If it had been an adult..." The Hufflepuff turned back to the corpse and pulled on his dragon hide gloves before he started to actually move the body about.
Godric backed up to join his fellow first years by the door at the first hollow cracking sound of a leg. They watched the older boy move appendages and crawl around to look at the abdomen of the dead spider. The sounds from the corpse were nauseating. It had dried out and hardened. Each slow move of the body came with crackling sounds of the dried up husk.
"So, um...Potter, Longbottom, that's my cousin Rolf," the Ravenclaw offered up a few minutes later. His voice wavered slightly.
Godric considered the boy's pale complexion. Anthony was still tanner than Salazar but looked a little woozy. The Gryffindor founder stepped slightly closer, and shifted so he could watch Rolf work and keep an eye on Anthony in case the boy fainted.
Salazar glanced at the Ravenclaw also before he turned to Rolf.
"It's good to meet you Rolf." Salazar offered. Amusement colored his brother's voice. Rolf was enthusiastically but carefully looking over every inch of the corpse and didn't appear to have heard any of them. "Your surname is Scamander, correct?" Salazar added, raising his voice slightly.
"Related to our animal book's author?" Godric asked, intrigued. He had started to devour that book now that he had (sort of) accepted this mess of events.
Rolf looked up with a slightly startled look. "Oh. Yes," he said with a beaming smile as he stuck out a spider crusted, gloved hand between two legs, "Rolf Scamander at your service! My Grandpa is the world famous Magizoologist and author of our book."
Salazar nodded to the boy but didn't step up to clasp hands.
Godric nodded also even as he stuffed his hands into his pockets to help make his opinion on handshaking the disgusting gloves and asked, "So you've learned how to recognize spider species from him?"
Rolf looked down at his gloved hand and dropped it with a faint blush. "Well, not spiders but I've learned a few things and I'm in CoMC–"
Anthony scoff, "You're going to take over for uncle. You know more than Professor Grubbly-Plank!"
"Of course I'm continuing the book for Grandpa! A definitive guide to magical creatures is important otherwise this–" He flicked his gloved hand at the corpse. "–happens more often than not."
The Hufflepuff frowned down at the spider for a second before a thought sparked a grin and the boy turned to his little cousin. "I'm officially going with Grandpa this summer! I got the letter last night."
Anthony made a face and grumbled, "Better you than me."
Rolf chuckled and ducked under spider legs to take another look at the abdomen.
"Where are you off to?" Godric asked with a roll of his eyes at Salazar as his brother watched in amusement.
Sure enough, Rolf sat back up between spider legs to puff out proud and pleased at the chance to brag. "Grandpa's working on the latest edition and he's gotten permission to join one of the First Nation clans in a spirit guiding ceremony!"
Salazar's eyes lit up. Godric grinned at the interest and wasn't surprised when Salazar began to maneuver the conversation towards his sudden goal, the spider entirely forgotten (for all that his brother was staring at the thing with the Hufflepuff almost on top of it).
"Is that like a ritual? I've read that they've been made illegal over the centuries. Is this one as dangerous?" Sally asked with distinct concern. Only the knowledge of Salazar's extensive ritual background kept Godric from believing the concern his brother was showing the other boy.
Rolf ate the concern up, making it even easier by turning back to the spider. "No, no! Grandpa wouldn't participate in anything dark. And it's a ceremony, not a ritual. The...uh–" He crawled over to the head and lifted it to whistle appreciatively.
"Sorry–uhm.." He looked back up and blinked at them with a frown before he remembered what he was saying and continued, "It's one of the older far north clans, I don't remember what they're called in my letters from pa...um…" Rolf turned back to the corpse and tilted his head down at the spider's own face. "They do this ceremony to celebrate the whales within the water. There's this type of spirit whale grandpa got permission to see, to figure out if it's an actual animal or really a spirit–"
A crunching sound from the spider corpse cut Rolf's explanation off for a moment as he pulled a part of the mouth area. He pulled out a measuring tape to check its length. Rolf made a noise at the length.
The Ravenclaw in the room commented near the door, "You're going to be freezing in summer."
Rolf laughed and looked up at his cousin. "True."
"It sounds fascinating," Sally remarked, "I hope you enjoy it."
The Hufflepuff grinned. "It'll be bril...If you want to learn about rituals, there's the ones the Council still do to open and close the season...and a few healing ones, I think."
"Really?" Salazar lit up, "Do you know anything about them?"
Rolf frowned as he explained with a shake of his head, "No. Grandpa is the representative of the Husbandry Guild within the Warlocks Circle but the headmaster—he's the Chief Warlock. He's been skipping the opening and closing rituals since forever."
"Those are important," Godric stated with a frown. Salazar turned to stare at him but Godric ignored his brother. If this was what he thought it was, this was tradition from their time—from before their original time, even. "It's where everyone is prompted to announce exactly who they are, right? You can't lie during the opening ritual. You can stay quiet but then you have to leave because the only reason you wouldn't confirm who you are is if you shouldn't be there!"
Rolf nodded at Godric's words before making an excited noise at something he had found on the dead spider.
"That's what all the traditionalists complain about." Anthony said thoughtfully, "That the headmaster isn't making certain only people that should be there and voting are...at least, that's what mum says."
Salazar tilted his head and flicked his gaze toward Godric. Questions glowed in those eyes at him. Godric ignored the silent demand by folding his arms across his chest.
"Well," Rolf said slowly as he finally got back up and away from the spider. He smacked his hands together and particulars danced across the air. The Hufflepuff announced, "Whoever sold it to you did so illegally. I'm almost certain you've got an immature acromantula here."
"Bloody hell," gasped Anthony.
"Not good?" Salazar asked with a faint frown as he stepped away from the wall and looked searchingly between the children.
Anthony was the one to answer. "They're man eaters, mate."
Rolf nodded. "It's a class 5X, highest threat rating given to any creature. Acromantula are believed to be created by a wizard in the 1700s to guard some treasure or other. They have highly toxic venom and highly prized silks." He shrugged. "Most of its body parts, besides the silks, are non-tradable goods. You'll get fined if anyone finds out you have this."
"Man eaters," Godric repeated after a moment of silence.
"Notoriously so," Rolf offered with a slight shrug, "I think a whole village was wiped out when a female escaped one of the silk compounds in Borneo. I overheard grandma grumbling about it to pa over the summer. It had laid eggs and all the hatchlings needed to feed."
Anthony made a helpless noise at the description and Rolf quickly wrapped up. "They're not native to Britain, luckily. And any permits for X5 creatures are extremely difficult to get."
"Thank you," Salazar offered in turn as he guided the two boys out of the room, "I'll see about disposing of this."
"That's for the best." Nodded Rolf as he wandered out with his cousin.
The door clicked shut and Godric stated firmly, "I'm burning the forest down."
Salazar whipped about, a scowl stretch across his young face. "No you are not."
"Just the part infested," Godric countered.
"Do be serious."
Godric gave his brother a sharp look. "Man. Eating. Spiders."
Slytherin grimaced and countered, "We're eleven."
They stared at each other for a moment. Salazar heaved a sigh and grumbled out, "I'm going for a walk."
"In the forest?"
"Obviously."
"Where the spiders are?"
"Godric."
"...I'd like to come with."
"We are not burning the forest down."
oooP5ooo
The wooden sword made a swooping sound as it traveled through the air. This was the only thing that made sense in the world. Everything else had become off and strange or entirely different.
Godric ignored the sweat that poured off him as he shifted from stance to stance. The reincarnated Gryffindor founder glared at invisible enemies as he forced himself to accept the facts laid bare from his week awakened with memories of an age past and none of the present.—It was nine hundred years in the future. Wands were the preferred weapon. Hogwarts was sentinant but still a school and sanctuary for magical children. Salazar was an eleven year old shrimp of a boy with wild black hair.
And he was Neville Longbottom: An overweight child with family issues and a fucked up core.
The wooden practice sword swooshed through the air as he stabbed at imagined enemies he could do something about. Air warmed from the pent up emotions he tried to release with each swoosh of the wooden sword. He took a deep, slow breath when smoke floated up from the wood. A shift of his grip revealed burned imprints of his palms.
His instincts and 'muscle' memory had remained intact. That fact soothed his emotions more than the breath.(1)
Those instincts were all geared towards his past adult form but some instinctive part of himself recalled how it felt to move as a child. It would still be a while before he no longer overreached or underestimated the effort needed but it was more of a start than he had expected. Once he was fitter and became used to his shortened height, he would be close to where he had left off. Only the strength and endurance of an adult form would be missing.
Godric narrowed his gaze and focused. He was Neville. He was this little boy.—How could he be Neville if he did not have Neville's memories? How could Neville be him when Neville had not recalled being Godric?
In the end, weren't memories what made a person who they were? Or did the physical form help guide a person towards natural inclinations even during memory loss? Was he inclined to garden and enjoy the peace and quiet of nature, of trees and flowers because of his physical body? Or were these new habits things that stemmed from memories he didn't recall but were there all the same?
And, more importantly, how did he regain these memories? He couldn't just wait around for them to return. He needed them back yesterday.
"Oh."
Godric paused as he completed another jabbing motion. The wood made a snapping sound in the air. The jab had been a little harder than necessary.
Freckled faces peered through the double doors at him, twin blue eyes round. The redheaded Gryffindor twins were peeking into the room. There wasn't anything particularly interesting to see, though. It was just a replica of his dueling hall with its stone floors, dueling deck, and racks of training weapons. Salazar had added a track around the perimeter reminiscent of some non-magical racing track his muggle school had.
It was nothing special. Certainly nothing to gawk at.
He rose from his stance when the boys didn't leave. The two boys glanced from him to the room in general, back to him, and then to a long, worn piece of parchment one of them held. Godric watched in bemusement as they did this multiple times.
One finally whispered in awe, "No way. He's–"
"–and this isn't on our map," whispered the other, cutting his brother off with his own excitement.
Godric was certain the two didn't know he could hear them. He was staring at them, though, so he had no idea why the boys hadn't realized yet. He tilted his head in interest at the word 'map'. The things children thought up were always entertaining.
"What are you looking at?" Salazar's voice floated through the open door.
"Bloody Hell!" yelped one twin, his arms flailed about.
The other twin stuffed the parchment into his robe pocket as he knocked into the double door. The door swung open to reveal Salazar frowning at the twins. Barnabas the Barmy had his hands on his hips and was scowling at the redheads from the tapestry behind Salazar. Godric imagined the woven figure thought he could give Salazar back up. The ballet dancing trolls would have been more threatening.
Godric snorted at the view and said, "Sally, leave the lads be and come join me. Or are you skiving?"
Twin snorts escaped the redheads. Said snorts were followed by hands clasping their mouths and widened eyes that jumped from Godric to Salazar. His brother rolled his own eyes as he walked between the older boys and into the room, dismissing the twins—probably without realizing it.
Salazar drawled out, "What did you think I came here for?"
"Encouraging words of advice?" Godric tossed out as he shifted forward with his right foot, held the wooden sword down near his knee with the bladed end point towards an imagined foe's chest. He burst forward and swung where he imagined arms would be.
He paid little mind to the twins as they muttered some excuse about maps and Hogwarts as they fled. The school was ever changing, they should have realized by their second year how pointless it was to create a map of it. They would have to enchant it to keep it up-to-date. It wouldn't be simple enchantments either. And it probably would have to be tied directly into Hogwarts to catch all the shifts she made daily.
But all the luck to them in the endeavour. It would be a fascinating map to create. Well worth their efforts, the things those two would learn as they attempted it.
Salazar set his satchel to one side, pulled his robe off, and picked up a wooden sword to join Godric in flowing from form to form.
He scowled at the Slytherin and ordered, "Take your glasses off."
Salazar groaned, shoulders dropped. "Godric–"
"If you're bloody blind, you learn how to fight with the handicap!"
"Gods, I feel terrible for all those poor children we let you teach." Salazar grumbled as he obeyed.
The whipping sound of wood through air and the hard breaths of two boys filled the room. Salazar offered no complaints as he worked through the sword movements blind. He never did once Godric got him started.
With the familiar movement and companionship, the stress eased away. It forced his thoughts back to his predicament.
Godric slowed to a stop and stared across the dueling hall. "Magic, mind, and soul are all tied together."
Salazar stopped and squinted over at him. "What?"
"You've said that before, haven't you?" Godric said thoughtfully. He knew Sal had brought it up over the years and had again recently, though he couldn't recall when. It was probably a Neville memory. "We remember who we were and possess the skills we once had because of this connection."
"Yes," Salazar agreed as he set the practice sword tip down and leaned against it. "Though, you remembering things might also be because of our brother bonds and whatever might have crossed through them when I survived the killing curse...and whatever else may have occurred that night."
Godric hummed and decided to ignore the possibility that he may have never recalled his past life under other circumstances. "So my skills with plants might be more magic related than mind–"
"Magic?" Salazar turned bemused. "We are still ourselves, for all that we are children once more."
"But…" Godric stared at his brother. That couldn't be true. His knowledge and connection with plants didn't feel like it was just something he had learned. Godric knew his instincts, if he was still just Godric with his magic as it had once been he would have avoided plants and gardening at all cost. He shook his head and pushed that mountain troll of an issue to the side and asked, "How do I go about getting my memories back then? I'd like to know when I'm about to spout off random plant facts." Amongst other things.
Salazar stared at Godric for a long moment before shifting his gaze away in thought. Godric watched his brother consider the question seriously. It was these moments where he wished they had done the final brother ritual. A mind bond would let him see Salazar's thought process instead of just the end conclusion. But getting used to such a connection would have taken years, if not forever. And Salazar dying when he did, how he did, was even more reason to be glad they had never completed it.
"Normally," Salazar finally stated, his green graze returned to look at him, "I would offer to delve into your mind and attempt to guide you to the hidden memories–" He grimaced. "–but I have not attempted legilimency yet, what with being eleven once more...Full force Occlumency could cause undo damage to the growing and shifting flow of the mind before maturity but the very basic steps may be your best option."
"Meditation it is," Godric sighed out with displeasure. He was overly familiar with meditation. Elemental magic, particularly fire, was too willful without the self disciplined practice. That didn't mean he liked it. Godric could stay in one spot as long as needed—as long as he was doing something. Fire did not like to be still. Combine that with a child that liked to be doing something, needed to be doing something and meditation had been a hard won skill.
Godric huffed and turned back to his sword work. He would deal with it. He just needed to find a place not covered in magic, entirely forgotten by children, and not full of flammable material.
oooPooo