Author: Aedalena
Summary: A collection of short ficlets set in the Nullifier universe, following the lives of the founders before (and after) Harry's arrival.
This chapter: (Nullifier-era) Godric tries to explain to Rowena why he trusts Harry.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. No profit is being made by the author of this fanfic.
Note: Knowledge of the Nullifier universe will be helpful, but not necessary, to read this collection of stories. Conversely, these short stories provide interesting bits of background for Nullifier.
The Founders: Pieces of Life #2
Godric was a characteristically late sleeper, particularly on the days when he didn't have to teach until the afternoon, which made his presence in the Great Hall before noon rather an anomaly. If Rowena hadn't just finished teaching Advanced Spellcrafting, she would have uttered a quick tempus charm to verify that it was indeed still morning.
With Salazar off revealing their deepest secrets to Harry-the-wholly-unconvincing-spy-Evans and Helga in her garden harvesting leopard's breath or leopard's bane or whatever flower it was she needed for her healing salves this month, Godric looked lonely at the head table.
Good. He'd be more likely to listen to reason without Salazar there to counter every other argument she made.
He was absently picking at the bowl of assorted berries that he always had for breakfast—though given how late he usually took his first meal of the day, Rowena thought "lunch" a more apt designation. She walked over to the table and slipped into the seat next to him with a murmured greeting.
Now, what strategy to use for extracting information? Her earlier attempts to discuss her suspicions with him had met with unusual resistance. She'd have to handle the conversation more carefully this time, ease into it.
Course of action decided, she opened with an innocuous question. "I'm surprised to see you here so early. Did Salazar wake you again?"
"In a manner of speaking," Godric replied, using his dagger to stab a piece of strawberry from his bowl. He studied the impaled fruit with a preoccupied air.
She grimaced as she watched him handle the dagger. An old gift from Salazar, it wasn't a dagger at all, but a sword that could change size according to its wielder's will. Godric seemed to favour the dagger form for everyday use. Rowena sometimes wondered if he knew the thing made her nervous and used it deliberately as often as he could just to needle her.
Her worry was hardly unwarranted. Magic was notoriously difficult to bind to metal, and given how many years the enchantments had managed to hold, Rowena half expected it to revert back at any moment.
She tried to console herself with the fact that Salazar would never give Godric something dangerous because it would be akin to handing belladonna to a toddler and expecting him to produce an Ethereal Elixir rather than stuff the poisonous plant in his mouth instead. But whatever consolation that knowledge afforded her was tempered with the awareness that Salazar was confident of his magical ability to the point of arrogance and the thought of the enchantment wearing off might simply never have occurred to him.
It didn't help that Salazar had been less than forthcoming with details as to how he had managed that particular enchantment, much less the far more complex and, to Rowena's knowledge, impossible, weaving of a communication spell into the weapon. Worse still, knowing Salazar, the sword did several things no one, not even its wielder, knew about. And the greater the number of enchantments imbued in the sword, the likelier it was that something would happen eventually, some cataclysmic clash of two opposing currents of magic, and—
Rowena gritted her teeth against the nearly overwhelming urge to snatch the ugly thing away from him.
"Oh?" She somehow managed an inquisitive smile.
"Helga truly does grow the best berries," Godric remarked distantly, as if he hadn't heard her question.
Rowena wondered if Helga had perhaps grown something else that might have put the distracted expression on his face. She hadn't forgotten the time Helga had mislabelled one of her magical plants and the house elves had unknowingly put leeks-that-weren't into the cream of leek soup.
The soup had put the smaller children directly to sleep and left the rest of them—excluding Godric, who passionately hated leeks—in varying degrees of sedation. Godric had taken advantage of the situation to persuade a greatly mellowed Salazar to sing a duet with him, to the mixed dismay and delight of those students and professors who weren't too far gone to listen.
It could have worse, she had pointed out later to a sober and mortified Salazar. If total embarrassment had been his aim, Godric could easily have chosen some lewd drinking song instead of the almost melancholy ballad they had sung. Nevertheless, it had taken all of them to persuade Salazar that obliviating the entire student population was not only immoral and liable to bring the Council's ire down upon them, but also impractical, mass memory charms or no. And even then, the house elves just barely caught his addition of a selective memory erasing potion to the apple cider served the following night before it could be served to the students.
Thus thwarted, Salazar's wrath had focussed entirely on Godric, who hadn't dared sleep the next two weeks for fear of being murdered in his bed...
She shook free of the memories in time to watch Godric neatly bite the strawberry off the dagger. She was unable to prevent a sharp intake of breath as her imagination provided her with an unnecessarily detailed mental picture of the damage the weapon would have inflicted should its enchantments have chosen just then to unravel.
The sound caught Godric's attention, and he looked at her as if just noticing her presence.
"Oh," he said, rubbing his eyes and offering a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Mornings and thinking...not a good combination, much less with a handful of Slytherins thrown in for added frustration. What were you saying?"
She was able to relax as he set the dagger down on the table. "Actually, that was my question."
Her relief was short-lived. Godric sighed and picked the dagger up again, spearing himself another strawberry slice. "Was that intended to be confusing? You should try harder. I think I might almost have understood."
Not having patience for the verbal sparring—complete with parrying, thrusting, and feinting—that Godric and Salazar seemed unable to prevent themselves from entering into when conversing, Rowena didn't respond. She just looked at him, and he slumped in his chair.
"I hate mornings," he said by way of apology.
She nodded impatiently, dismissing the matter. "Salazar woke you? In a manner of speaking?" A thought occurred to her and she pointed at the dagger. "Did he use...?"
"No," he said before adding, sourly, "not this time. Though you can be sure he's had a bloody grand time scheduling brewing sessions that I, for reasons obscure, must be present for, thereby providing him with the perfect excuse to wake me at all ungodly hours of the night and day with the sodding thing."
Rowena was very careful not to smile. "Such audacity."
She must not have been careful enough because Godric rolled his eyes. "I'm not three, Rowena—I can tell when I'm being patronised. I know you're one of those ghoulish morning people who find all such petty cruelties amusing."
"Regardless," she said, because the word was at once dismissive, placating, and an excellent way to steer the conversation back on subject. Then again, that would require them to have reached the subject in the first place, which they hadn't yet.
"It's Harry," Godric said, as if reading her thoughts. "I had the feeling Salazar would be getting little sleep, and perhaps he might need to..." He broke off and shrugged.
"Talk?" she finished dubiously. "As in talk about something that's bothering him? Salazar?"
"He does to me..." Godric insisted, before pausing in reflection and adding, "sometimes. Occasionally. From time to time." She shot him another look. The last of his defensiveness drained away and he sighed. "Fine. When I've been sufficiently annoying."
"But he didn't?"
Godric shrugged, twirling his dagger, fruit and all. "He might have, but Harry got to me first. Or to him. I'm not sure which. Possibly it could have been Salazar who got to Harry who got to me, which led to Salazar getting to us both."
She tried to work through that statement and gave up with an exasperated toss of her head. "Your morning students can actually understand you?"
He shrugged innocently. "Everyone else manages. Perhaps it's just you?"
She tried her stare again, modelled after Salazar's, which worked about a third of the time. Godric's blank expression wavered as a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.
"You did that on purpose," she accused.
He gave up and let his grin surface. "Reciprocity."
For some reason, the word seemed to strike him as unusually amusing. "Godric..."
"Oh, very well." He gave the dagger a final twirl, and the strawberry slice flew off, landing halfway across the table, just barely missing a surprised Halcourt's bowl of porridge. "Between you and Salazar, it's a wonder I've retained a sense of humour at all."
"Godric."
"It would help if I knew what you were trying to get me to talk about. Yes," he added when he noticed her surprise, "I did recognise that you were trying to lead the discussion somewhere."
She gave up. "Harry."
"Ah. I might have guessed. What about him?" Godric looked down at his now empty bowl of berries and over at the distant, far flung piece of strawberry as if contemplating summoning it over. Upon noticing Halcourt's cross expression, however, he wisely abandoned the notion.
Rowena, meanwhile, struggled to process his response. 'What about him?' What wasn't there about the boy that didn't prompt suspicion? She glanced at Godric to see if he was feigning ignorance again, but he looked more puzzled than smug. Surely, he had noticed something? After Salazar, he had spent the most time with Harry.
Then again, she thought with resignation, perhaps she shouldn't be too surprised. Godric had a habit of trusting people he would do better to handle with caution. It was entirely possible that he truly hadn't noticed anything unusual about Harry's behaviour. He might not have recognised warning signs someone with just a shade more cynicism would.
"You said that Harry came to see you first," she said, switching tacks. "Tell me about it."
"Well, Salazar was taking long enough that I decided I would find him myself. Harry was passing by just as I opened my door."
"What was he doing?" Rowena asked eagerly, finding the coincidence a bit much to be believed. "How did he act?"
Godric looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. "Nothing. He wasn't checking the stones for secret passages or probing the defences or laying traps. He was just walking. As to how he acted... Well, he was irritated, irritable, and irritating. Exactly what I'd expect from someone who'd had the misfortune of receiving one of Salazar's early morning greetings."
"Salazar went to him instead?"
The situation sounded even worse than she had feared. A day, and Salazar was already spending far too much time with their alleged time-traveller. And she still didn't like that Harry had just "happened" to cross paths with Godric. Anyone who knew him—that included Morass and by extension, any spies he might decide to send to infiltrate Hogwarts—knew that Godric was the logical starting point for gaining trust.
"Apparently. I suppose I should be grateful that I was spared the experience, but that really only postponed it. And worsened it by a factor of two, because Salazar arrived not two minutes after him. Ugh, Slytherins. Two of them, Rowena! Two, as though one wasn't punishment enough. Can you imagine?"
Rowena was sorely tempted to point out that indeed she could, since she dealt with both him and Salazar on a daily basis, and it couldn't get much worse than that.
"If we could keep to the subject..." she said instead, feeling weary though the day had barely begun. Godric did that to a person.
"The oh so nefarious Harry?" Godric did roll his eyes this time. "Well, we bickered almost immediately, exchanged insults, and engaged in melodrama. He threatened me at least once and was overly formal and at odds with his father. In short, he acquitted himself just as a Slytherin would in the situation. Is that what has been bothering you? You don't think he is a Slytherin?"
Rowena let her forehead drop to the table, resting it there for a moment before lifting it up again to face Godric, who looked slightly concerned for her.
"That's it? He insulted you and threatened you, and, based on that, you conclude that he is telling the truth?" She cut off Godric before he could speak again. "Fine, you said he was distant towards Salazar. Perhaps because he is an imposter who has never met Salazar before in his life?"
"Would you be any less suspicious if he knew every last detail about us?"
Answering a question with a question. One of Salazar's favourite techniques, and apparently one he'd passed along to Godric. "No, but that doesn't matter. Morass could easily have anticipated our suspicion and deliberately sent his operative in with holes in his knowledge."
"So," Godric said slowly, "we've established that your policy is to suspect everything, trust nothing, and ignore all evidence to contrary."
Change of subject and twisting of her words to use against her, wrapped up in a tidy argumentum ad hominem. What was Salazar teaching him?
"What evidence would that be?" she found herself demanding, cursing herself as soon as the angry question left her mouth for responding to the attack.
Godric had the gall to smile at her, as if he wasn't perfectly aware that she was two seconds away from throttling him. "The irrefutable kind."
"What," she repeated through clenched teeth, "evidence."
"The fact that it simply isn't possible for someone to be so maddening and not be a Slytherin."
"That's it?"
"See?" Godric said triumphantly. "He's infuriating you even now. He's not even here, you haven't seen him since last evening, and he's driving you mad."
"That's it?"
She wondered if Helga and Salazar would understand if she strangled him. Then she wondered if she really cared. Before she decided one way or the other, however, Godric spoke up again, the teasing gone from his voice.
"Rowena, we both know it doesn't matter what I say or what Harry does. Anything suspicious in the slightest will lend your theory credence, and you'll dismiss the rest as part of Morass' clever scheme. Maybe what I saw was a performance designed to make me trust him. Maybe Harry truly is that good an actor. And maybe you're wrong. I don't know. All I can tell you is what I think."
"And make light of my concerns," she said coolly.
"He flirted with a mirror, Rowena. And he was blushing." Godric laughed. "How can I think of him as a dangerous spy after seeing that? And he's—I just—" He shrugged. "I like him."
Rowena discarded her rebuttal for the mirror argument when Godric's last remark registered. It was then that she knew she had lost. If she was honest with herself, her primary motivation for discussing Harry with Godric wasn't to confirm her suspicions. It was to convince Godric that those suspicions were sound. That he should be on his guard.
Her only chance now was to convince Salazar, because he was the only person who could bring Godric round. And from what Godric had told her, it sounded like the probability of succeeding at that was rapidly decreasing with every moment he spent with the boy.
Was it some kind of spell? One that confused the senses of the people around him? Some kind of...gullibility spell? But then, Salazar should have been able to detect something like that. Natural charisma? It would make sense for Morass to choose someone with the ability to charm.
Her frown threatened to turn into a scowl.
"Rowena?" a new voice penetrated her musings. "Do I need to hide your bow?"
Rowena sighed and looked up at Helga, who, judging by the large basket she held in her arms, was fresh from the gardens. "Am I the only person to take this matter seriously?"
"This matter?"
"We were discussing Harry," Godric volunteered.
"Ah," Helga said, as though it explained everything. And perhaps it did. "Ada was quite favourably impressed by him. I am reserving judgement for now, since you are suspicious enough for the four of us."
"Salazar must have been giving her lessons in paranoia," Godric agreed, scrutinising Helga's covered basket.
Noticing the subject of his regard, Helga smiled and reached into the basket. "Yes, I picked you some berries when I was in the gardens." She pulled out a small sack and tossed it to him. "If you ever tried to attain an animagus form, I'm certain you would be a bear."
Godric caught the bundle and stood, solemnly falling on one knee in front of Helga. "Marry me."
Helga gave him a light kick in the shin, and he retreated to his seat. "I don't marry wizards whose diapers I can remember changing. Besides, you only love me for my berries."
"Can anyone blame me?" Godric popped a blackberry in his mouth, sighing blissfully as he chewed. He held out the sack to Rowena. "Berry?"
"As far as attempts at distracting me go, this one—" Rowena paused as she sighted some blue mixed in with the purple and red berries. "Are those dewberries?"
Godric tried one and made a face. "Ugh, yes. I don't know how you can stand them. They're far too tart."
Rowena opened her mouth to defend her favourite berry, but closed it when she noticed a group of Godric's students rapidly approaching them, looking outraged. She sighed, wondering what Salazar had done to them this time.
"Professor! You can't possibly expect us to attend Potions with that lunatic in charge!"
Odd. This was the first time Rowena had heard anyone complain about Kessel before. The man was absent-minded at times, but an excellent teacher.
"He's a Slytherin, isn't he? Got to be."
"He's horrible! He doesn't explain anything, and he wouldn't let us use magic at all."
"I think he's insane. He tested every one of the potions. Isn't that grounds for dismissal? Insanity?"
The slightly bewildered look on Godric's face left him and he pressed his lips together in what might have looked like a stern line to the students but Rowena recognised as a desperate attempt to keep from smiling. What was going on? Kessel must be mad if he'd personally tested the potions. It was a wonder he was still alive—
"Just how long are we expected to endure Professor Evans?"
Rowena blinked, Helga hid a smile behind her hand, and Godric coughed.
"Professor Evans?" she repeated dangerously.
"Salazar said it would be a good outlet for his energy," Godric said.
"You should be pleased," Helga said, appealing to her logic. "If he's busy teaching, then that's less time he has to do anything...else."
She stared at her traitorous friends. "Am I the only person who was not informed of this...this idiocy?"
The Gryffindor students had fallen silent and were watching the three of them warily.
Godric's gaze moved from her to his students and his shoulders slumped slightly in relief. "This is a house matter better discussed in the privacy of my office." He snatched up his sack of berries and stood. "Helga. Rowena."
He escaped, students in tow, and Rowena looked at Helga, not bothering to conceal her displeasure. "You could have told me."
"We couldn't just leave him locked up. And you would have said no."
"Have all of you taken leave of your senses? Giving him free reign of the school, access to the students..." They were all aware that some of the students were sympathetic to Morass' cause, and letting a potential spy loose in their midst was both irresponsible and extremely stupid.
"We're all watching him, Rowena. Think of it as a test."
"I don't like it."
"Rowena...it would be foolish not to be suspicious, but if he really is who he claims to be, then think about what that means. For Salazar."
"I wish I could," Rowena admitted softly. "But all I can think about is what another betrayal would do to him."
"You worry too much," Helga chided her, taking a seat next to her.
"It's my job."
"Do you mind if I ask why you don't trust Harry?"
Rowena was silent a long while, trying to formulate a neat, concise answer. Him appearing in Hogwarts seemingly out of nowhere was a point in favour of his story of being from the future being true. There was no other way he could have got into the castle. His attempted escape didn't make sense for a spy but it did for a frightened time-traveller. She could remember his fear when they came to rescue him from Morass. It could have been staged, true, but how could Morass had known they would give chase?
He didn't seem to know Salazar very well, but there was always another explanation for that...
"Are you still angry with her? Is that what this is about?"
Rowena straightened in her seat. "Don't be ridiculous."
"We don't know what happened."
She didn't reply immediately.
"Rowena?"
"She left."
"We can't—"
"She left him. We know that much."
"And you're afraid it will happen again?"
Rowena was tired of staring at the tabletop. She stood. Helga remained seated, but watched her with too-knowing eyes.
"I don't know. I have to prepare for my next lesson." Helga didn't protest, didn't follow. But Rowena felt her gaze on her until she left the Great Hall.
It was her responsibility to be suspicious. And if she crossed the border into paranoia, well—
It was better than the alternative.
-- -- -- -- --
Thought I'd put this up to let everyone know that I'm still working on Nullifier and so that those who are enjoying these short stories will have something to tide them over till the release of chapter thirteen of Nullifier. Again, the LJ folks saw this piece quite a long time before I posted it here--my LJ's always the place to go for news, background info, writing gripes, and more.