Godric's Gift
Enhancements and Enchantments
"What is the purpose of an incantation?" Professor Babbling asked the fourth-year runes class. Since there were so few students, it was not divided by houses, simply all fourth years present. Nevertheless, Hermione's hand was the first to shoot up, and the professor gestured for her to answer.
"To focus one's intent and thus channel one's magic," Hermione answered.
"Very good, Miss Granger; now, what language are most spells cast in?" Babbling asked. "Yes, Miss Greengrass."
"Latin, the early Romans were deeply magical and so crafted their verbs with the arithmetic properties to serve well for incantations and speech." Greengrass finished.
"5 points to Slytherin. I believe that is verbatim from your textbook." Babbling praised.
Harry schooled himself to keep a grin from his face. Greengrass had never spoken in any of the classes when the entire gaggle of Slytherins were present. After a few weeks of Ancient Runes, where Daphnie Greengrass and Tracey Davis were the only Slytherins in the class, she answered questions fairly often and always correctly; Hermione was not the undisputed leader in the class, and Harry found the change moderately amusing.
It was not that Harry was angry with Hermione. Unlike Ron, she believed he did not enter the thrice-blasted tournament. Still, she was trying to play peacemaker between the two, which, while understandable, was getting under Harry's skin. Harry was not done with Ron, but he refused to speak with him until he apologized. Once again, the whole school was against him, and instead of standing by him, his best mate was being a prat.
"While Latin is the primary language that spells are intoned in, it is not the only language in which spellcasting is possible. Although casting in other languages can be quite dangerous, as languages differ slightly in the manner of defining words, if your intent and the incantation are off-kilter, most likely the spell will simply do nothing, but it is also possible that the spell could kill you or someone near you." Babbling warned. "Runes, on the other hand, are far more stable than incantations, which is why you have learned several scripts over the past year. Now that you are competent in them, we will begin to practice runic combinations to enhance basic household goods like articles of clothing. Before we get there, can anyone tell me why using different languages and scripts is useful for runic enhancement or warding?"
Harry thought for a moment, then raised his hand.
"Yes, Mr. Potter," Babbling asked.
"Some languages are more suited to enhance certain objects than others." Harry reasoned. "As for wards, anyone trying to undo your wards would have to know which language the runes were inscribed in; using multiple may help close loopholes." Harry finished.
"Ten points to Gryffindor. That was not in your book Mr. Potter. Very well reasoned." Babbling praised.
"Mr. Potter is right, some languages are much more precise at describing things than others, and some languages have words that others do not. For instance, Ancient Hebrew has only one word for bodies of water but seven for desert. It is quite unsuited to water-based runework, while it is excellent at runic enhancements pertaining to desert life. Similarly, the Inuits in Alaska have over thirteen words describing various types of snow; if you wish to enhance a coat and make it impervious to snow, inscribing a series of Inuit runes would be ideal. Now, you do not need to be a linguistic expert to work runes in these languages, but when taking on a project, it is a good idea to research which language would best suit the enhancement you are trying to describe."
Harry listened to the remainder of the lesson, fascinated by the possibilities. Since his little experiment with his trunk, he had been slowly practicing little runic enhancements. This class was a nice distraction from the tidal wave of events that had hit him over the past several days. Finding The Lookout and meeting Godric Gryffindor's portrait, exposing his memories to one of the founders of his school, and his name coming out of the Goblet of Fire all in the span of two days. Not to mention dealing with the fallout of the last event.
It had been two days since his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire. Two days of stares, sneers, and sarcastic remarks from most of the castle. The Gryffindors were mostly ok about it; Fred and George thought the situation a hilarious prank and thus motivated the majority of his house members to play along. He was grateful that he would not have to deal with nastiness in the common room. But knew their attitude would further embitter the rest of the castle against him. He had decided it was not worth confronting them about it. Instead, he would do his best to avoid everyone. Fortunately for him, Hogwarts had provided an escape—The Lookout, a room only he could enter, and Godric would be more than happy to fill his free hours with training. He had wanted a quiet year to study, play quidditch, and prepare for the next time life would throw him into a dangerous situation. Quidditch was canceled, and his year would be anything but quiet, but he would have time to study. He resolved to spend every hour not in classes with Godric, because his next life-threatening situation was almost certainly twenty-two days away during the first task which was to be held November 24th.
"Harry, are you staying after class?" Hermione asked, puzzled.
"No, sorry, spaced out for a second. I'll catch up with you later, Hermione; I don't want to eat lunch in the Great Hall." Harry responded.
Hermione grimaced, "Where do you want to go? I'll come with you."
"It's fine; I've got some studying I want to do; I'll catch up with you later." He finished.
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and nodded sadly, and walked away.
Harry felt slightly bad. He knew she was concerned for him. He was just still processing everything that happened, and he'd rather talk to her when he felt more settled. He was going to have to tell her about The Lookout. He wanted to tell her, but he needed to settle his thoughts and plan out his actions. Godric would give that to him if he asked, so Harry made his way to the ninth floor to the room he was starting to think would be his home for the year.
oOOOo
"How are you feeling today?" Godric asked Harry as he entered The Lookout, adjusting the dial on the wall to bend the flow of time and give himself a few extra hours to train and study before his potions class that afternoon.
"Brilliant, Godric," Harry replied sarcastically.
"Has anything come of the investigation into the Goblet?" Godric asked, ignoring the sarcasm.
"Dunno, they haven't told me anything," Harry replied dejectedly. Eliciting a frown from Godric.
"And you are content to allow them to inform you at their convenience?" Godric asked.
"I, er, well, I hadn't really thought to ask. I guess I figured Dumbledore would tell me if I needed to know." Harry replied.
Godric paused thoughtfully. Before saying, "I have watched this Headmaster of yours for a little over a year now. I do not think him evil, but I find him less forthcoming with others than makes me comfortable. I do not think you should mistrust him, but your name being entered means there is someone powerful who is willing to risk the ire of three ministries of magic and the most powerful wizard of your age, Albus Dumbledore, in order to put you in harm's way. We must find out who put your name in that Cup. Until we know, then each task is a potential trap, and from what I have gleaned from conversations around the castle, the tasks will be dangerous enough as it is."
"What do you reckon I should do?" Harry asked.
"Ask one of your teachers or the headmaster what has been discovered, they may not tell you the whole truth, but you could possibly learn something. Also, keep note of anyone who might be taking an undue interest in your performance in the tournament. I will have the portraits keep watch. Through those avenues, we will hopefully discover who is targeting you and why."
Harry nodded his head enthusiastically, buoyed by the formation of a plan.
"What classes did you have this morning?" Godric asked, changing the subject.
"Arithmancy and Ancient Runes." "Runes was particularly interesting as we are going to start working on runic enhancements and warding schemes in different languages and scripts."
"An excellent branch of magic to discover and master," Godric said happily. "While many advancements have likely been made since my day, I imagine I have a better grasp of some of the more ancient scripts and languages than most anyone alive today. Sit down, and I will begin teaching you what I know." Godric said happily.
Time flew as Harry listened to the portrait discuss the usefulness of various ancient and obscure runes from some languages Harry never even knew existed. Unsurprisingly, Godric was an excellent teacher; his energy for the subject radiated as he spoke, making Harry even more interested in what was quickly becoming one of his favorite subjects. Godric finished by directing Harry towards his bookshelf to retrieve a journal of useful runes Godric himself had compiled.
"Study the notebook, but I would not recommend using these particular runes for your class projects. Your knowledge of them would bring attention your way, and I imagine you have enough unwanted attention at the moment." Godric finished.
"No doubt," Harry said, chuckling. "I did have a question about magical languages and runes."
"Ask away," Godric said eagerly.
"Can runes be worked in Parsletongue? Is there even a script for it that could be imbibed with magic?" Harry asked.
'A bittersweet but excellent question." Godric said.
Harry blanched, forgetting what McGonagall had told them in their second year about Salazar Slitheryen's row with Godric and ultimate departure from the school.
"Sorry, sir, you don't have to talk about it; sorry I asked." Harry quickly.
"Of course, I'll talk about it! But you would have been much better off if Sal had ever made a portrait. Not a chance he ever would, though; the ability to walk away from a conversation was prized most highly by my friend Salazar." Godric said, chuckling.
"You mean Salazar Slithyren, correct?" Harry asked.
"Yes, the best friend a man could have, looked after my family after I passed away. He was actually the man who hung me in this room." Godric said.
"I thought you said only one who wielded the sword could enter this room?" Harry questioned.
"I did indeed," Godric replied.
"So Slytherin wielded the sword after your death?" Harry asked, still wildly confused.
"He most certainly did," Godric said, enjoying Harry's confusion.
"I thought you quarrelled, and he departed the school. I thought he built the chamber of secrets and put the basilisk in there to rid the school of muggleborns. Slytherin's mock courage, how could he have wielded your sword?" Harry blurted.
"Ahh, young Harry, it appears as if you have been taught a rather extravagant and, I am sure, highly interesting history that was slightly deficient in accuracy," Godric said, chuckling.
"Could you tell me what actually happened? You saw me kill the basilisk, no? He put it there, did he not?" Harry questioned.
"He did indeed. You have to remember the times we lived in. Muggle-wizard relations were at an all-time low. It's one of the primary reasons we founded Hogwarts in the first place. Students needed a safe place to learn and control their abilities away from those who would do them harm and many would do them harm. Salazar built the chamber below the castle and hatched the basilisk within as a last line of defense in the event the castle was under siege. It seems that one of his descendants, the Riddle boy, broke its mind and set it on the students it was created to protect."
"I thought Salazar hated muggleborns?" Harry asked.
"My boy, I doubt there is a man who has lived in the past four hundred years who cared more for muggleborns than Salazar Slytherin," Godric said earnestly. "The one thing that your history got correct is that Sal and I quarreled. We often did, and our largest quarrel was over the question of muggleborns. Salazar was terrified about the abuse that muggleborns would face by their own families and communities. He could not sleep at night knowing he had the power to bend reality at his will, while children in Britain might end up being beaten or killed by their families for their magical abilities. Salazar proposed we take magical children from their families and modify the parents' memories so that they would forget the children existed. We would then keep muggleborns here at Hogwarts year-round. The other founders and I rejected this, although Helga was very close to agreeing with him."
"What were your reasons?" Harry asked, thinking of his life with the Dursleys.
"We are not gods, Harry. Despite the power we wield, the bond between parents and children is written into nature herself. Robbing parents of their children and children of their parents to avoid the possibility of abuse, while understandable, is not right and would cost far more in the long run." Godric said. "If there was one great flaw in my friend, it was his refusal to accept limits. It made him great and haunted him endlessly. But, alas, I've been rambling, and I did not answer your question about Parsletongue.
"While Salazar did not invent parsletongue, he studied it more than any other. It is a hereditary gift; those who are not born with it cannot speak it; thus, the branch of magic is useless to them. Salazar invented a runic script for the tongue. Fortunately for you, I have a copy of his works on the subject in my library. I could never read it but I assumed it would be good to have around just in case." Godric said.
"In case what, sir?" Harry asked.
"In case one of my friends' descendants ever could make use of it." Godric asked.
"I can speak parsletongue," Harry replied.
"Can you really? That makes perfect sense, actually; how else could you have gotten into Sal's chamber." Godric said, smiling.
"I, err, yeah, I am. But Dumbledore said it was because of Voldemort and the connection we share." Harry responded, causing Godric to frown.
"Connection?" Godric asked.
"I can feel when he is close, in my scar, and I sometimes have dreams about him," Harry responded.
"This is something to explore further; for now, I see no reason why parslemagic would be shared in any connection between the two of you. It is linked to the blood, and blood magics are almost impossible to share with those outside of the bloodline."
"So I am the heir of Slytherin?" Harry asked.
"You are certainly an heir of Slytherin, which makes me even more glad to train and teach you. But, alas, we are running out of time; grab the black and green book on the shelf to your left. I've no idea the title, but you'll be able to read it. It can be your tutor in your gift from Sal."
Harry walked over and saw a leatherbound black diary. He recoiled momentarily, having seen almost the same diary two years ago. This diary, however, had none of the taint of Riddle.
"You said this was a copy of Slytherin's diary?" Harry asked.
"Yes, the gemino spell is quite useful," Godric said.
"Were there other copies?" Harry asked.
"I imagine Salazar made a few. He was quite proud of this branch of his work." Godric replied.
Harry nodded and took the book from the shelf. Opening the front cover, he read.
Parselmagic, its Uses, and Applications
A note was inscribed below the title.
These pages are the compiled work of all I know of parslemagic; those of my blood who can read these words would do well to study these magics as they will give you an edge over all who cannot read, write, or incant our tongue.
Harry grinned, eager for the opportunity to learn more. He placed the diary in his bookbag and made his way toward the door.
"Thank you, Godric; I'm excited to learn more," Harry replied.
"Keep me posted on what you learn," Godric said, waving goodbye.
oOOOo
The thrill of his lesson with Godric dissipated as Harry entered the dungeons for potions. Snape would do all in his power to make Harry as miserable as possible for the double period. He entered the classroom, walking to the table he and Ron shared, and noticed Ron had taken a seat with Seamus at the table to his left. Harry shook his head and took a seat glad for the table to himself.
"Ahh, class, we should consider ourselves fortunate that our resident champion saw fit to attend his classes today. As the rules seem not to apply to Mr. Potter, we can all consider ourselves lucky to be in his presence." Snape sneered sarcastically, eliciting snickers from the Slytherins.
Harry sighed and shook his head, unable to muster the emotional energy to become angry. Seeing his lack of reaction, Snape launched into his lesson.
"Today, we will be brewing a shrinking solution. Instructions are on the board, and ingredients are in the cupboard. You have an hour and a half. Begin."
Harry rose to get his materials passing by Snapes' desk when an idea struck him.
"Professor, may I ask a question? Harry asked.
"The board is meant to be read from left to right and top to bottom, Potter. I probably should have mentioned that to you in your first year." Snape said flatly.'
Harry smiled despite himself; he hated the man but couldn't help but be amused.
"Ask your question." Snape eventually said.
"Did they figure out who put my name into the Goblet? Or how it spat out a fourth name?" Harry asked.
Snape stared at Harry curiously.
"No, the Headmaster nor the other schools to my knowledge, have not determined how you cheated," Snape replied curtly.
"I did not cheat. I did not enter." Harry replied
"Spare me, Potter." Snape spat.
Harry nodded in reply. "Yes, sir."
Harry did not care if Snape believed him; he learned something valuable; the identity of the meddler was still unknown. Harry collected his ingredients, carefully arranging them in organized piles and examining the board's instructions. He would not give Snape the satisfaction of failing him. Without Ron to distract him, he would have his full attention to dedicate to this brew.
oOOOo
An hour and fifteen minutes later, Harry was very pleased with his shrinking solution. It was the precise color of lilac the blackboard described. All it needed was a few more minutes to simmer, and he could turn it in.
"Professor Snape," a soft feminine voice called out, entering the room. "Professor Dumbledore asked me to deliver this note to you."
The visage of Alicia Spinnet appeared through the haze of the potions room. Her light brown skin glowed in the potions room; dark curly hair bounced softly as she made her way to the potions master. Harry smiled at his teammate as she walked by, her presence reminding him of carefree hours of training on the quidditch pitch. Snape unfurled the note she handed to him and scowled, sweeping around his desk and approaching Harry's. Snape glanced into Harry's cauldron, a trace of surprise crossing his face before it curled into a cruel smile.
"Potter, you are required to attend a wand weighing ceremony; as you were not able to complete your potion, you will make it up on your own time." Snape drawled.
"Sir, my brew needs two more minutes of simmering before it is done. May I wait and turn it in before I leave?" Harry asked, trying to control his temper. His potion was perfect, and he did not want to have to start again.
"Ohh no, international cooperation demands our hospitality; as a champion, you must understand," Snape said and waved his wand, vanishing Harry's potion. Follow Miss Spinnet, and she will show you to your ceremony."
Hot, bubbling anger boiled within Harry; he inhaled deeply, refusing to allow it to spill over.
"Yes sir," Harry replied, packing his bag and turning to leave the class. He glanced at Alicia, whose eyes were alight with indignation, mouth open to retort. Harry shook his head subtly, and she received the message, turning to lead him out of the classroom. As they exited the room, she near shouted.
"That incorrigible bastard, your shrinking solution was perfect, and he just vanished it."
Harry felt something move within him, at having someone be outraged on his behalf.
"Yeah, well, that's just Snape, right? He's always like that." Harry said.
"He's not that bad with us; that was totally unfair; you should talk to McGonogall." Alicia returned, leading him up the stairs out of the dungeons.
"Nah, I don't want to give Snape the satisfaction; it's not like anything would change; he's been doing this for years," Harry replied.
"It's not right; you don't deserve to be treated like that; Merlin knows you've got enough going on as it is." She replied kindly. "How are you doing, by the way? Only a moron would believe you put your name in."
Harry's face brightened as she spoke. Godric was right that knowing the truth was powerful, but it felt good to be believed. Especially by someone who knew him better than most in the caste.
"Thanks, Alicia; honestly, it's been mental. Right now, I'm just trying to reckon with most everyone treating me like a cheat, haven't really thought past that," Harry replied.
"You're quidditch sisters are with you," Alicia said to him, grinning. "So are Fred and George; they are just having a laugh as always."
"Even Angelina?" Harry asked nervously.
"Course, she was disappointed not getting picked, but we all trust you. If you say you didn't enter, we believe you."
Alicia stopped in front of the classroom she was asked to lead Harry to, spun around, and wrapped him in a hug, which he returned gratefully and perhaps a touch awkwardly.
"Don't let anyone get you down, and be careful with the reporters; they'll twist your words." Alicia finished."
Harry entered the empty classroom to see the other three champions had already arrived. His heart began beating faster as he saw Fleur's platinum blonde hair shining in the evening sunlight that was filtering through the window that she was looking out of. He quickly averted his eyes, not wanting to see disappointment or disbelief from her. To her right, Victor Krum was speaking with a woman dressed in acid green with horned glasses; although talking was a generous term, the woman was gesturing him to speak, but he was saying nothing, an incredulous glare the only form of communication emanating from the Bulgarian. Harry's eyes continued to the center of the room where they came to rest on Cedric Diggory, who offered him a friendly smile.
Harry returned the smile and entered the room, the door swinging shut behind him, the noise drawing the other eyes to himself. Harry moved towards the far right corner of the room but was intercepted by the woman in acid green.
"Harry dear, Rita Skeeter, so lovely to meet you. You wouldn't mind an interview, would you? I'm talking to all the school champions, and I've just finished with Durmstrang's Mr. Krum; now its time to chat to the Hogwarts Champion."
"He's right there to your right, Miss Skeeter. I was entered against my knowledge and will." Harry responded flatly.
"Ohh, of course, Harry dear, we'll get to Edrick," Skeeter said in a sickly sweet voice.
"I don't want to give an interview," Harry responded.
"Harry, the people want to hear from you." Rita Skeeter pressed
"E said e did not want to give an interview, e is not compulsed to give interviews as e as been compulsed to be in thees tournament." Fleur Delacour offered, drawing the attention of the room.
Skeeters's response was lost when the door opened again, and Albus Dumbledore swept into the room, followed by Kakaroff, Maxime, Crouch, and Ollivander. Skeeter was swept to the side, and the wand-weighing ceremony began.
oOOOo
The ceremony lasted about twenty minutes; it would have been far shorter had Rita Skeeter not demanded twelve different angles for photographs and accosted Harry for an interview another two times before finally being rebuffed by Barty Crouch, who claimed it unethical for a minor to be interviewed without their guardian present. Harry was amused that according to a senior ministry official, he was legally bound to participate in the Triwizard Tournament but was prohibited from giving an unchaperoned interview. Regardless he was grateful to be free of the woman.
Harry sped from the room, heading for the staircase, opting for a few hours of training rather than dinner in the Great Hall. He heard a familiar voice call out his name.
"Arry, a moment?" Fleur asked.
Harry sighed deeply, wanting to avoid this particular encounter. He stopped and turned to look at Fleur taking her in. He was surprised to see her eyes alight not with hostility or reproach concern.
"Yes, Fleur?" Harry responded.
"Ow are you?" She asked, looking at him intently.
"I've had better weeks, to be quite honest," Harry remarked darkly.
"You've been nothing but onest with me to my knowledge," Fleur responded, her face somewhat neutral.
Did she believe him? Harry thought. Perhaps Godric was right.
"Thank you," Harry responded. "I have been."
"I believe you, Arry. I will elp you if I can." Fleur responded.
A tightness in his chest was replaced by butterflies in his stomach. She believed him. She offered to help him. He wasn't sure if he needed that now that he had Godric, but it meant a lot either way.
"Thank you, Fleur, for believing me."
"Are you going to Dinner?" She asked.
"No, going to do some training; I've got a lot to catch up on before the twenty-fourth. Perhaps we can catch up at a later time." Harry responded.
A curious expression crossed Fleur's face then she nodded.
"That would be nice." She responded
Harry bowed slightly and spun around, sweeping up the stairs heading for Godric and four training dummies.
A/N: Leave a review and let me know the story is progressing!