ZA: Vacation, church, and more church, and a sick Crispy have delayed this chapter long enough, I think.

Crispy: Hear, hear! Let's get this show on the road!

ZA: So...Hilmar? Disclaimer?

Hilmar: Are you sure that Helga døes nøt wish tø dø this? I wøuld nøt stand in the way øf min ganske grevling før all the wørld.

Crispy: She's already had her turn. We've been trying to avoid repeating ourselves. Go ahead.

Hilmar: Utmerket! Zsugami Alba døes nøt øwn Harry Pøtter. Ør...a møøse?

Crispy: A moose bit my sister once.

ZA: That did not happen.

Crispy: ...No, it didn't. I just wanted to be funny.

ZA: 54,700 house points to the minion who correctly guesses the inspiration for Hilmar's name.

Crispy: Hint: he is not a cheese, and Google cannot be relied upon - it will forsake thee. I recommend considering the author's personality.

"English"

'Thoughts'

Parseltongue

The Book

Chapter 14: The Good, The Bad, and the Inebriated

SNAP!

The whole class fell silent as Neville stared in horror at the fractured remains of his wand.

Professor Slytherin rushed to the poor student's side. "What happened, Mr. Longbottom?"

"I don't know," said Neville. "I was just aiming at Ron, preparing to cast my spell, when it just cracked in half." The boy was clearly in shock, his voice barely above a whisper. "It just...died." Then he moaned, "Gran's gonna kill me! This was my father's wand!"

Professor Slytherin looked at him sharply. "Your father's wand? Why on earth are you using your father's wand? The man's still alive. This wand won't recognize you as its owner. You mean to tell me you've been performing magic with a mismatched instrument?"

Neville looked surprised by this information. "Er...yes. Gran said I have to continue Dad's legacy."

Stabby mice! hissed the professor. "Well, at least now you have an excuse to acquire a more suitable replacement. I'll contact your Gran personally and schedule a trip to Ollivander's. In the meantime, you may practice your wand movements and observe your classmates. Be sure to note the differences in techniques and which ones seem to get the best results." He patted Neville on the shoulder and started to walk away. Suddenly, he turned and leaned down to whisper in his student's ear. "And whenever you happen to pass by Professor Gryffindor's chair, would you be so kind as to complement his coloring technique? He's particularly pleased with his ability to keep his scribbles within the lines." He straightened again, winked conspiratorially at a very stunned Neville, and then turned to correct Dean's stance.


Later, in the nearly empty Gryffindor common room, Harry paced back and forth in front of the fireplace as Ron and Hermione listened to his ranting with patient ears.

"I can't believe it! Honoring his legacy? What was the daft woman thinking? Did her brains somehow migrate to the vulture in her hat?"

Hermione was too full of questions to stay silent any longer. "Why would his...er…his father's wand just snap like that?"

Harry stopped his pacing. "Well, Neville has been using that wand since his first year. It obviously decided it'd had enough and committed seppuku rather than struggle with its usurper."

Ron and Hermione simply stared at him, though Ron's stare was more one of confusion than disbelief.

Harry sighed. "Come now. You both must realize that wands have a certain amount of sentience. The wand chooses the wizard, as Ollivander says to each new customer."

Ron nodded. "That's why the new wand I got before third year worked so much better than the hand-me-down I got from Charlie."

"Exactly," said Harry, obviously pleased. Actually, he nearly awarded house points before remembering he was not in Sal form.

"But Neville seemed pretty upset," said Hermione.

"More like freaked out," said Ron.

"I hope his Gran isn't too hard on him," Hermione continued. "It wasn't his fault, after all. He can't be held accountable for the actions of a ronin wand."

Again, Harry barely kept himself from awarding an exorbitant amount of points to Hermione for extending his samurai/wand analogy. "You needn't worry about Augusta Longbottom," he said. "Professor Salazar Slytherin will put her in her place."

Hermione and Ron shared a look of trepidation but chose not to comment.


"Mrs. Longbottom," said Professor Slytherin as he gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "How are you this fine day? Please, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable. May I interest you in a cup of hibiscus tea? I'm told it does wonders for high blood pressure. The veins in your forehead seem a bit pronounced this morning. Reminds me of an uncle of mine, actually. His wife swore by this particular blend." The professor failed to explain that the aforementioned swearing was actually several offensive words muttered sotto voce and not actually an endorsement of any kind.

The matriarch of the Longbottom clan did not look the least bit inclined to accept such an ill-worded offer, though she did take her seat. "No, thank you. I'd prefer if we simply got down to business. I've no time for beating about the bush, Professor Slytherin. Why am I here?"

"Your grandson is in need of a new wand. The one you gave him has recently rendered itself unusable."

"Rendered itself? Explain," Mrs. Longbottom demanded.

"Of course," replied the professor. "You see, after over four years of being handled by a wizard not of its choosing, it finally decided upon an honorable death. It spontaneously snapped itself in half."

"WHAT?!"

"Perhaps you'd like that cup of tea now?" Professor Slytherin offered.


"She was so...supportive," said Neville, clearly still puzzled by his grandmother's unexpected behavior. "She kept smiling at me encouragingly and even clapped when I found the right one." He held his new wand up for all of his friends to see. "Cherry wood, 17" long, with a unicorn hair core," he pronounced proudly.

Hermione grinned. "Go on, Neville. Give it a wave for us."

Neville grinned back as he complied with the request, conjuring an impressively varied bouquet of flowers. He blushed and handed them to Hermione."Professor Gryffindor taught me that one."

"See?" said Harry. "As Ollivander says, 'The wand chooses the wizard.' Well...in most cases."

Hermione was instantly distracted from her flowers by the scent of fresh knowledge. "Most cases?"

Harry's eyes widened. "Er...I should not have said that. I should not have said that. Professor Slytherin made me promise not to tell anyone. Behavior unbecoming of a Founder and all that."

Ron looked impressed. "What sort of behavior would be considered unbecoming by a man who published a story about Gryffindor's buttocks?"

"Well, it involves vandalism," admitted Harry.

"And emblazoning an image of one's buttocks on the ceiling of the Great Hall isn't vandalism?" asked Hermione.

"Well, not destructive vandalism," argued Harry.

The twins immediately appeared on either side of Harry. "Did someone say…"

"...destructive vandalism?"

"Now you've done it," muttered Neville.

Harry sighed. "Oh, all right. But you must promise never to repeat this story, or reenact it in any form." He directed that last bit at the twins, using his sternest professor face.

Fred and George adopted wounded expressions. "Us? Reenacting a scene of destructive vandalism?" said George, hand on heart.

"Never," asserted Fred, holding up his right hand, the first two fingers together and the rest folded in. "Charm Scout's honor."

"You were never in Charm Scouts," said Ron, rolling his eyes.

"Au contrair, notre petit frère," said George. "We were indeed Charm Scouts."

"For a full day," agreed Fred. "I dare say they might have invited us back for a second if it hadn't been for that unfortunate incident with the marshmallows."

George nodded. "Unfortunate, but spectacular."

"Very well," said Harry. " But not here. Let's relocate to the Home Skills classroom."

"Home Skills? What class is that?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, it's not offered anymore," said Harry. "It taught practical, everyday skills using magic. Cooking, cleaning, handkerchief conjuring, garment mending...the sort of things most magical children learn from their mothers nowadays."

Hermione looked put out. "Only if their mothers are witches. What are we muggleborns to do?"

"Don't look at me," said Harry. "The class was still being taught in m- Slytherin's day."

Ron decided to interrupt before Hermione really got rolling. "We can discuss travesties in public education at a later time. Tell us about the destructive vandalism."

"Wait!" cried Fred. "Let us secure our ride first. Only take a moment." He and George hefted their new tandem bicycle and jogged up the stairs to the dorm with it.

Neville watched them go. "Draco's a bit miffed about that bicycle. He doesn't like to be outdone."

Hermione shrugged. "Their rendition of 'Bicycle Built for Two' is quite lovely."


"Helga, this just isn't working," said Rowena. "How can you properly instruct the children in defensive magic if you can't even perform spells on their level?"

Helga looked affronted. "But I've been limiting myself to spells I could do when I was their age."

"Yes," agreed Sal, "But I think we all know that you're a freak of nature."

"Sal!" scolded Rowena. She sighed. "What our friend means to say is that you are uncommonly powerful."

"Not to mention uncommonly beautiful," chimed in Godric. SMACK!

"Episky," muttered Sal, waving his wand over Godric's newly flattened nose.

Rowena continued, ignoring this perfectly routine interaction among her friends. "Most children cannot produce broad blasting spells that fell multiple foes at once - and certainly not without collateral damage. You need to teach them precision work."

"Yes," said Sal, "And that requires a wand."

"Pfft! Wands," scoffed Helga. "Useless twigs. Sir Robin's wand couldn't even stand up straight."

Rowena rolled her eyes. "Sir Robin's wand is particularly whippy, yes, but wands are only useless when wielded by useless hands. Trust me, Helga. Once we find the wand best suited to you, you'll be very pleased with the results."

"Rowena is quite right," agreed Sal. "Now put down that mug of mead and come with us to Old Ollivander. We've got an appointment. He's the best in the business, and we don't want to keep him waiting."

Helga belched a sigh. "Oh very well. I want it on record, however, that I'm complying under protest."

"Of course you are," said Rowena.


"Helga Hufflepuff sure drinks a lot in your stories," commented Ron.

"Shh! Quiet, Ronnikins!" admonished George. "Let him get to the good part."


"Ah! Miss Hufflepuff?" greeted Ollivander. "Right this way, please. Would you care for some hibiscus tea?"

Helga scowled at the wandmaker. "Let's dispense with the niceties and get on with it. Wait a minute…" She moved toward a small table in the corner and picked up an earthenware jug. Pulling the cork, she gave the contents a sniff. "Is this Floppenwell's brew?"

"Why, yes!" said Ollivander with a smile. "He gave me that in payment just this morning for his niece's new wand. Holly, eight inches, with a unicorn hair. Would you like a cup?"

"Nah," said Helga. "I'm good." She then proceeded to guzzle the alcohol straight from the jug.

Ollivander winced at the sight of his precious treat disappearing down the throat of this disagreeable woman. "Of course you are," he muttered.

Helga set the jug down again with a thud and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "Well, Ollie, what have you got for me?"

"Right." Ollivander nodded. "Let's start with this one, shall we?" He plucked a long, narrow box from one of his numerous shelves and handed it to Helga. "Go on and give that one a wave, if you please."

Helga eyed the wand skeptically and then shrugged before twirling it over her head in a wide motion - much like a slingshot - and then releasing it. The wand flew across the room and bounced harmlessly off Ollivander's forehead.

"Yes, well…" Ollivander picked up the wand. "Perhaps not that one."


"She didn't even know how to use a wand?" Ron was incredulous. "You're pulling our legs, Harry."

Harry shrugged unapologetically. "She was used to hurling objects in combat, not spells. Bar fights were her specialty. Lots of chairs. Now if you don't mind?"

The others glared at Ron, who held up his hands and sat back, mouth firmly closed.


Helga was getting impatient. "Look, Ollie," she huffed. "This process of yours obviously isn't getting us anywhere."

Ollivander looked around his shop at the destruction that dozens of wand trials had rendered. "Perhaps you have a different method you'd like to try?" he suggested.

Helga began pulling random wands out of their slots and fiddling with them. She wiggled one to and fro and frowned at the pliancy before tossing it behind her. Sal obliged Ollivander by catching it and handing it to the poor man as Helga continued her search. The next wand she held to her ear and tapped lightly. Others she shook. A couple were even licked, much to Ollivander's horror. Finally, she had set aside three candidates.

"Tell me about this one," she commanded, pointing to the first wand.

Ollivander took a deep breath and prayed to the gods that this trial was nearing its end. "Ash, twelve inches, dragon heartstring."

"Dragon breed?" Helga inquired.

"Hungarian horntail."

"When was it harvested?"

"Three weeks ago."

Helga held up the wand and sniffed it. Then she raised an eyebrow at Ollivander.

"Ahem. Three weeks and two days ago," he amended.

Helga sniffed again. "Hm. Bear fed." She nodded approvingly and then exchanged the first wand for the second.

"Ah. Aspen, thirteen inches, unicorn hair."

Helga sneered at that last part and set the wand down. She picked up the third. "And this one?"

Ollivander paled when he suddenly recognized the wand. "Where did you find that?"

"In the secret hidey-hole you've got under the mat. What's in it?"

"Ahem. Well...that's an experimental wand that didn't really turn out well...or safe. Rowan, nine inches, with a...a manticore stinger."

Helga's eyes lit up. She placed the wand back on the table and studied all three wands side by side. "Where did you get the aspen wood?"

Ollivander breathed a sigh of relief. "I harvested that from the dark forest."

"When was it severed from the tree?"

"Well, I didn't exactly do it myself," admitted Ollivander. "The tree had been struck down by lightning, and that particular piece was already separated when I found it."

"Hmph." grunted Helga. Then she proceeded to induce a near heart attack in Ollivander as she broke off one end of the wand and pulled out the unicorn hair, letting it drift to the floor and apparently out of mind.

"What are you doing?!" he cried. He turned to Sal and Rowena for help, but they too were frozen in horror.

Helga picked up the first and third wands and gave them the same treatment. Then she inserted the dragon heartstring and manticore stinger into the aspen wand and sealed it up. Eyes alight, she turned and looked about her.

Recognizing the look in his customer's eyes for what it was, Ollivander quickly said, "You can try it out on targets out back."

Helga stepped out of the shop and strode confidently to the back of the building where three wooden targets resembling a wizard, a witch, and a centaur stood in a row. She immediately fired off three spells in rapid succession, causing each of the targets to spin 90 degrees. Then she fired off three more, and her audience watched as the heads of the wizard and witch fell off. She frowned at the centaur target. Ollivander couldn't help smirking, but one look from Helga wiped that smirk right off his face. She turned back to the target and roared loudly at it. The centaur's head tipped over and fell off.

Nodding, satisfied, Helga turned once more to address Ollivander. "How much?"


Hermione looked reprovingly at Harry. "That did not happen."

"It did!" Harry protested. "Snapped the wands right in front of him!"

"And the targets?" Ron asked. The boys all leaned forward eagerly.

"All true," Harry affirmed.

"Wow," breathed Fred.

"What a woman," breathed George.

"I know," sighed Godric.

"Oh hello, Godric," said Hermione. "What are you doing here?"

"I've found Helga!" Godric announced triumphantly. "I was taking a little walk about the castle when I heard the most angelic belch. I turned to my left, and there she was, sitting with a group of monks drinking ale. Oh, and Hilmar was there, too."

"Hilmar?" asked Neville. "Who's Hilmar?"

"Never mind this Hilmar fellow," said George. "Who's the angelic belcher?"

"Helga Hufflepuff. My dear one. The puff of my huffle," sighed Godric.

Hermione frowned. "You married Helga Hufflepuff? I don't recall reading about that in Hogwarts: A History."

Godric burst into tears. "No. She turned me down. Several times. Then she went off on that quest and came home with Hilmar. What's he got that I haven't? I'm tall. I'm blonde."

"Actually, you're a redhead," pointed out Harry.

"Well, I could be a blonde if I could just get that spell right," Godric sniffed. "Hilmar and I are practically twins. Why him, Sal?"

"Well, he does have a Norwegian accent," said Harry.

Hermione sighed dreamily. "Norwegian accents are so sexy."

All the boys turned to stare at her.

Ron glared. "Don't tell me you're still hung up on Vicky."

"He was Bulgarian," Hermione reminded him. "Very different accent. Not nearly as attractive."

"Whatever," Ron muttered.

Harry shook his head and turned back to Godric. "Where is this portrait?"

"Um...I don't remember," Godric admitted. "I got lost on my way back here three times."

"Those darn staircases," muttered Harry.

"No worries, Harry!" said Fred. "We know the monks."


"Are you sure this is the way?" asked Ron. The group was following the twins down a corridor he had never seen before. In fact, the walls and floor were grimy enough to indicate Filch had never seen it either.

"Wench! More mead! There's water left in the ocean!" called out a loud voice up ahead and to the left.

Harry grinned. "I'd recognize that line anywhere. Oy! Helga!" He hurried to the next painting and waved at the occupants. Five monks sitting around a table turned their bleary eyes to him. In the center sat a woman, face obscured by an enormous flagon. Beside her, his hand on the back of her chair, stood a tall, blonde, muscular man who nodded in acknowledgement of Harry's greeting.

"Ganske Grevling, I think there is sømeøne here tø see yøu."

The woman lowered her drink and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. Now the students had an unobstructed view of a very beautiful witch with long, wavy, black hair, dark blue eyes, and a confident smirk that Harry knew to be her default expression.

"Oh look, Hilmar!" she said. "Students! I've seen few of those since we left our portrait on the fourth floor. Hello, children! Oh, and hello, Godric!"

Godric's face morphed into a rather sappy smile. "Hello, my angelic angel of angelness."

The tall blonde in the portrait frowned. "Perhaps my English is still inadequate, but I dø nøt believe that made any sense."

Godric glared at him. "Hello to you too, Hilmar," he grumbled.

Helga patted Hilmar's hand. "Your English is perfectly adequate, Thunderbuns. Godric hardly ever makes sense off the battlefield." Hilmar blushed and said nothing more, and Helga turned to address Harry. "You look awfully familiar, young man. Have we met?"

"My name is Harry Potter, madame. I probably resemble someone you once knew. The Potters go way back."

Ron leaned over to whisper in Hermione's ear. "Literally, in some cases."

Hermione ignored him and asked, "Professor Hufflepuff, what are you doing here in this part of the castle?"

Helga raised her flagon. "Having a wee little drink with some friends, of course." She turned to the monks. "What were your names again?"

One of the monks pulled out a piece of parchment and wrote a brief note on it with his quill before handing it to Helga.

"Oh, right," she said after reading it. "I'd forgotten you lot took a vow of silence."

Hermione would not be dismissed so easily. "Professor, your portrait is said to have been missing for over 300 years. Have you been here all this time?"

Helga turned her attention back to the Gryffindor girl. "Nonsense. I could never stay in one place for three straight centuries. Hilmar and I have been exploring the castle, making friends and enjoying our freedom. Leaving that post on the fourth floor was the best idea I ever had. The neighbors were terribly intolerant."

Hilmar nodded. "The øne named Agatha did nøt apprøve øf my Helga's vibrant persønality."

Helga's nose wrinkled as she sneered, "Kept muttering about temperance and modesty and proper ladylike behavior. What do I need all that for? I've already got me a husband, haven't I my volcanic viking?" Hilmar blushed an even deeper red, but he smiled proudly at his wife.

The twins were thoroughly enchanted by this brash, beautiful woman. "Fred and George at your service, Professor," said George. "Is it true that you made your own wand?"

Helga smiled. "Yes! Would you like to see it?" She fumbled with her robes for a moment. "Let's see...I know it's here somewhere. Hilmar? Help me out, would you?"

"Øf cøurse, min ganske grevling," said Hilmar. Then he reached over and pulled the wand out of the front of Helga's bodice.

"Ah! I knew I put it somewhere close!" Helga cried. Hermione looked scandalised, the boys all grinned, and Godric looked as if he were attempting to set Hilmar on fire with his mind.


Hermione checked her watch. "Oh, it's almost time for Charms! We'd better be going. So nice to meet you, Professor Hufflepuff, Hilmar."

Helga frowned. "Leaving already? I was so enjoying our conversation. I get precious little of that here." She aimed a disappointed look at the monks. "I do have Hilmar, but I much prefer him when he's not talking, if you know what I mean." Helga gave an exaggerated wink as she nudged Hilmar with her elbow. "Of course, it makes the monks uncomfortable."

"Why don't you go back to your own portrait for a while?" asked Harry. "The fourth floor gets lots of traffic."

Helga shuddered. "I'd rather avoid Agatha as much as possible."

"We could always relocate your portrait somewhere else," suggested Ron. "I doubt there are any rules against it. Mum rearranges the family photos at The Burrow all the time."

Helga grinned. "That's a fine idea! Ooh! Put me in the Great Hall. I want to check on my little badgers."

Fred and George matched her grin with two of their own. "Consider it done, milady!"


Fred, George, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Godric, and Neville all met up on the fourth floor after classes that day to fulfill Helga's wish.

"Shouldn't we be asking for permission?" asked Hermione.

Harry waved a dismissive hand. "Professor Gryffindor is a Founder. Who's going to veto his orders?"

The twins nodded. "Well said, Harry. Now which portrait do you suppose belongs to the Hufflepuffs?"

Harry pondered the question and then said, "Our best bet is to listen for Helga's voice. She's bound to make a ruckus wherever she goes."

Sure enough, after the group stopped and listened for a minute, they heard a loud argument nearby. They followed the shouting and found Helga and Hilmar facing a group of prim witches in Victorian garb.

"Now see here," said the lead Victorian, "You abandoned this portrait ages ago. It was quite evident to everyone here that you never intended to return. Now it is the property of the Demure Damsels Temperance Society. We have our regular devotionals here every Thursday, and we won't be removed."

"Temperance Society?" Helga asked incredulously. "The background of this portrait is a pub!"

"A constant reminder of the ever present evils of alcohol," sniffed Agatha.

"I'll show you ever present evils!" cried Helga. "I've had three centuries to warm up to the point of kicking all of your-"

"Helga!" cried Harry. "Not in front of the children."

Helga stopped short, noticing the students for the first time. "Oh, my apologies, but I'm having a bit of trouble with an infestation."

Harry turned to Godric. "If you don't mind, I think you're best suited to handle this one, old friend."

Godric smiled charmingly and cleared his throat. "Ahem. Good afternoon, ladies," he said, addressing the stubborn members of DDTS. "You are all looking particularly lovely and proper today. I must say, this portrait setting doesn't do you any justice. Wouldn't you prefer a more wholesome setting? A nice landscape, perhaps? I know of a marvelous little meadow, not far from here, with lots of flowers, sunshine, and clean air."

The ladies looked at each other, hesitating.

Godric continued. "There's a large tree for shade and a very handsome, honorable knight who would gladly provide any aid you require."

One of the ladies tugged at Agatha's sleeve. "It wouldn't hurt to try it out for a meeting or two," she said. "It is rather dim in here, don't you think?"

Agatha seemed reluctant, but nods from the other women decided the matter. "Very well. Lead the way, if you please, Sir…?"

"Gryffindor," Godric supplied helpfully. "And it will indeed be my pleasure."