I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters
--
If there was a word more fitting than agony for the feelings that tore through his body in the next twenty-four hours, Godric could not think of it. He lay for what felt like endless hours, turning over repeatedly and restlessly, searching for a position that could compensate for the pain shooting through his very being. No matter how hard he tried, the force of her rejection weighed heavy on his heart, her words replaying themselves over and over in his head, creating a mantra, a chant of rejections and denials that caused his eyes to burn dry- he longed for the tears he had long since cried, for the warmth of her body curled into his...
The night crept by, the shadows and silence of his room imprisoning him. The moon rose and fell, the sun replacing it, painting the sky a beautiful array of colours that made his whole self crumble into anger, into loss and pain. He heard the students as they went about their daily business, heard the cheerful laughter that echoed up the staircase and instilled so much resentment in his chest that he hid his head under the pillow and let out unrestrained curse words, damning each and every happy teenager that walked about so unashamedly, unknowing of his pain.
The day crawled along, each hour or two punctuated by the regular cheeriness of the school day. As the sun was setting again, there came a knock on his door, which stupidly, childishly, he leapt to answer, willing it to be her, willing her to want one last kiss before he left, to tell him that she loved him, or even, he thought, to tell him that she didn't care if he loved her, but that she needed him... So it was with intense disappointment that he opened the door to Minerva McGonnagall, whose hair was tied up in a tight bun, her lips pursed and her skin tight.
Godric stared at her for several moments, mouth open. "I..." he frowned. "Sorry. I... forgot you were coming."
"Clearly," Minerva drawled. She gave him a quick once over and flicked her wand at him, straightening his clothes and hair and cleaning his face. "It is imperative that we leave as soon as possible. Molly will most definitely have my head if you are late for dinner. Gather your things." When Godric didn't move, she shooed him into the room. "Quickly boy, we don't have all day!"
It had been many years since Godric had been ordered around like a little boy; in recent times, he had been the one giving such orders, yet despite the stark contrast, he couldn't bring himself to stand up against her, and so quickly gathered the clothes that Hermione had given him on his arrival, and stowed his wand in his pocket, before looking expectantly at Minerva.
She was crouched over the fireplace, reaching a hand into a brown fabric bag, and holding whatever contents it was in her hand. "I am about to tell you the location of the Order of the Phoenix headquarters," she said quietly. "Afterwards, you will be one of many secret keepers, and you must swear never to divulge this information unless requested to do so by Dumbledore himself!"
Godric rolled his eyes. "Him again!"
"Do you understand me, Sir?" She asked him sharply.
He nodded. "Alright."
"Good. Then come here."
Godric walked over, wondering why on earth he had to swear anything. "Put your hand in this bag," she instructed, "and throw the powder into the fire. Step in, and speak the words 'Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."
"Step into the fire?" He gasped, staring at her as though she were completely off her rocker.
"You are a wizard are you not?" Minerva questioned, beginning to seriously doubt if this could truly be Godric Gryffindor.
"Of course I am! But if I'm not speaking any charms, how do I stop myself getting burnt?"
"Floo powder." Minerva said, not elaborating but instead thrusting the bag at him. "Repeat after me; Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."
Godric repeated it, shrugging. "So I jump into the flames and risk serious burns, say this name, and then what?"
"You'll go there. Now throw the powder into the fire!"
"But..."
"For goodness sake boy, we don't have all day!" She grasped his hand and forced him to throw the powder into the roaring flames. The reds and oranges turned emerald green, and Godric gasped.
"But..."
"Get Sirius or Remus to explain!" Minerva said, hastily pushing him towards the fire. "Get in and say the place you silly boy!"
Godric gingerly and carefully stepped into the fire and felt the warm flames licking at him, but not burning him. He grinned.
"Say the place!" She hissed.
"Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place..." he said slowly, raising an eyebrow in question at McGonnagall. He did not see whether she nodded or shook his head, for the next moment he was being compressed from all angles, zooming through darkness and hardly able to breathe, and then he was falling out of another fire, coughing and choking and falling forwards onto his face, only just managing to support his body on his hand to prevent breaking a nose.
It took him several moments before he could look around, and all he saw was a dark room, clouded with dust, sporting books on all sides of the wall. For a moment, he thought it had gone wrong, that he had somehow said something wrong and ended up in some ancient library, but then he heard voices, many voices, coming from outside the slightly ajar door.
"Is he here yet?" A womans voice asked. It was slightly high-pitched, almost worried, and most definitely middle-aged in Godric's opinion.
"He eez probably wiv Dumblydore still. He az anuzza fifteen minutes." It sounded foreign, that voice; foreign, female, and, quite frankly, beautiful.
"I'm sure he'll be here Molly, lets just put someone next to every fire, and then when he get's here, we'll know!" The next voice was calm, soft, male and spoke with reason and reassurance that neither woman seemed to posess.
"Remus is right." This was strong, gravelly yet powerful, and much more trustworthy. "And if he's not here in fifteen minutes," the voice continued, slightly louder over a little exclamation. "I'll owl Dumbledore right away."
There were some other voice, jumbled and incoherent, and then Godric heard footsteps outside, and saw several shadows in the doorway. "You know, we should really just have one fireplace on the Floo," the second man could be heard saying. "It would make life much easier..."
"Yes, much easier to worry Molly!" The first man answered, and both laughed, pushing the door open and looking in. Both of them froze in the door, then grinned at one another. "Found him!" They chorused. They entered, both coming over to pull Godric to his feet, laughing as they chattered.
"First time with the Floo, I guess," one said, though Godric could not see to tell which one.
"Of course it is, Einstein- they never HAD Floo a thousand years ago!" The two shared a chuckle, standing back as Godric stood on his own two feet, grinning at him.
"I'm Remus," one said, holding out a hand. Godric looked at him carefully; he had sandy hair, which looked slightly lank and dirty. His clothes were slightly tattered and he was particularly skinny, but his face was kind and easily likeable. Godric shook his hand, smiling shakily.
"Sirius," the other said, offering his hand in greeting also. "Nice trip?" Unable to suppress a grin, Godric nodded, shaking the mans hand and taking in his face. He was taller than Remus, with black hair and pale skin. His hair was slightly matted and in need of a trim, but his grey eyes were laughing; again, Godric thought, very likeable.
"Godric," he said, dropping Sirius' hand to look at the two of them. Both nodded slowly, looking at one another, and Godric had the instant impression, both that they knew each other well, and that they had heard alot about him.
"Yeah, we know." Sirius said, nodding towards the door. "Come on, better let you meet the rest of them. I warn you, you'll get the 'you're too thin' treatment from Molly, and 'ee eez so 'andsome!' from Fleur." He grinned.
Slightly nervous, Godric followed the two men out into the corridor and down a narrow hallway, towards another, slightly ajar, door. As they passed a moth eaten curtain, it burst open, scaring Godric to the point that he jumped into the wall and spun round to look at the ugly portrait now screaming in an equally ugly voice.
"FILTHY HALF-BREEDS!" It roared. Remus looked at Sirius, both suppressing a violent need to laugh, before pulling Godric along the corridor away from the angry painting. Godric looked around in time to see Sirius glaring at the painting, anger set in the lines of his face as he yelled back.
"Shut up Mother, you ugly old trout!" He yanked the curtains over it, joining them in the kitchen and shutting the door behind him with a smirk at Godric, who was now being greeted rather joyously by a plump, red-haired woman, who introduced herself as Molly. She hugged him in greeting, which caused Godric to smile uncomfortably and pat her absently on the back as she said, "you're too thin! Sit down, I'll put some soup on before dinner!"
Sirius grinned across at the newcomer as he was greeted by a man with long red hair, and a dragon fang dangling from one ear. "Nice to meet you, I'm Bill," he shook his hand, smiling warmly. "Don't worry, she still tells me I'm too thin after twenty-four years - you'd think if I was that thin she'd have managed to do something about it by now." He grinned at his mother, clapped Godric on the shoulder, and said. "I've got to be going. I'll see you soon though!" He walked over to the old wooden kitchen table that Godric had as yet failed to notice, and kissed a beautiful young woman on the forehead, before disappearing with a crack. Godric might have wondered how he had done so, except he was so enchanted by the woman before him that he could not do anything but stare in wonderment.
"Ten sickles says she says it," Sirius muttered out of the corner of his mouth to Remus.
"Done." Remus answered, smirking.
The woman approached Godric with a small smile on her soft, delicate face, and placed both hands on his shoulders as she kissed both cheeks, with a slightly over-the-top pronouncement of 'mwah' on each side. "Ee eez so 'andsome!" She exclaimed her eyes alight with warmth.
"Told you," Sirius muttered, holding out his hand. Remus shook it.
"Alright. I'll get you the money later."
Godric managed a slightly wobbly smile, before she introduced herself. "I am Fleur. Bill iz my 'uzband."
"You're... beautiful," Godric said giddily, grinning.
Sirius shrugged and nodded appreciatively. "More than I got out the first time," he said.
Remus looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "You got out a hell of lot more than that!"
Smirking, Sirius shrugged. "It'd been a while."
Both laughed, though Godric remained oblivious as Fleur patted his cheek. "I must leave Molly, eet eez so bizzy at work!" She too disappeared, leaving Godric looking gobsmacked.
Sirius was the first to laugh, clapping him on the back and shaking his head in amusement. "You get used to it after a while," he assured him, grinning. "You might want a shot of firewhiskey to calm your nerves though." He disappeared into a side door, and could be heard rummaging around for several minutes, before returning with a large bottle and several glasses stacked inside each other. "Here you go," he said, pouring him a generous glass and offering one to Remus, who declined, before pouring one for himself.
"So tell us Godric, how'd you wind up here with us? Some kind of strange spell gone wrong?"
Godric shrugged. "I suppose so. I don't actually know."
Sirius looked at him expectantly, but when nothing else was said he spoke again. "I assume Dumbledore explained the Order to you?"
"Vaguely," Godric replied. "He said that the Order is fighting Voldemort. That's about it, really."
Both Remus and Sirius frowned, sitting down at the table and inviting Godric to join them. He sat down and took the firewhiskey nervously, looking at the amber liquid with reservation, before throwing caution to the wind and tossing the whole glass down his throat. It burnt his throat and he gasped, clenching his eyes shut as they watered. Sirius chortled, pouring him another one.
"I like you," he said appreciatively. "There you go!" He downed his own drink, smacked his lips, and spoke. "The Order's a hidden organization that Dumbledore set up last time Voldemort was at large. It's made up of allsorts of people in wizardkind; Aurors, teachers, member of the ministry and so on. It's very secret. Everyone in it takes an oath of sorts, a pledge of loyalty, and helps find out information about Voldemorts reign. Kingsley Shacklebolt for example - don't worry, you'll meet him later - works at the Ministry, in the auror department. He can find out all the things that the newspapers and the ministry are keeping from the public and tell us. He's also useful in... telling little white lies about some of our members..." at this, a little mischeivous glint entered Sirius' eyes, and Godric wondered what he had done to need white lies telling for him. "We act as the main enforcers of hope for the public, but we have to be very careful - so many people are getting kidnapped and killed, very few want to have contact with anyone opposed to him. Voldemort's very clever; he scares those that might oppose him by threatening their families and friends, forcing them to fight for him or face torture and eventually death. It's our job to find those few people who have the guts to fight against him. The more people we have, the more hope we give to those who are terrified, and so the more people join us... it's not a fun game to be playing though. Most days we get wind of an attack on one of our members, and they're convinced to fight for him and not us; that's why we only have certain members who know the whereabouts of Headquarters you see; so only the people who are truly trusted are let in."
"So why am I here? None of you know me!"
Remus smiled reassuringly. "Dumbledore sent you; for us there is no higher power than Dumbledore himself. He runs this organization, he chooses who knows our whereabouts. If Dumbledore trusts you to join us here, then you are trusted throughout."
"That's very big of you," Godric muttered, downing another glass of Firewhiskey and gratefully accepting the next one from Sirius, "but why does he trust me?"
Molly bustled over, settling a bowl of soup before each of the three men, along with a sliced baguette. "Dumbledore is a very clever man too," she said, setting a spoon down beside Godrics bowl. "He knows good people from bad like I know good potatoes from bad. There are very few people that Albus Dumbledore couldn't give a very good recollection of their life to."
"How can he give one of mine then?" Godric queried, thanking her for the soup briefly before going on. "He wasn't there one thousand years ago! I doubt I did enough in my future to merit having books written about me!"
"What year do you come from?" Remus asked suddenly, blowing on his soup.
"What do you mean?"
"The year you left... which year was it?"
Godric frowned. "Nine sixty four." Remus looked at him gently, a slight frown on his face, before he stood up.
"Could you excuse me for a moment Molly?"
"Yes of course Remus," she said sweetly, eating her own soup slowly.
Sirius stood up. "I think I'll come with you..." he started, but was instantly interrupted by a loud explosion from Molly, which made Godric drop his spoon and swear loudly.
"You most definitely will not go with him!" Molly snapped. Sirius blinked, sitting slowly back down, with exaggerated movements.
"I do apologize," he said dryly. Godric picked up his spoon and continued with his soup, feeling uncomfortable. Clearly, the two of them were not on good terms.
--
Remus returned minutes later with a red, leather bound book, which he placed in front of Godric on an open page. "Here," he said softly. "I thought you might like to read this."
Godric looked at him in confusion. "Is this...?"
"Your life." Remus finished. "But do not turn that page. I daresay you shouldn't know anything of what is to happen in your future."
"Remus," Sirius warned, "I'm not sure this is such a good idea..."
"Relax Sirius." Remus said softly. "He won't read any further than what has already happened!"
"How'd you know that?" Sirius scoffed, downing another firewhiskey. "He might be in january of nine sixty four, and you're showing him June!"
"Hence showing him only up to nine sixty three," Remus informed him dryly. Sirius stared, then shrugged.
"On your head be it. But there's probably a reason Dumbledore never did this."
Godric drowned out their voices by reading the book placed before him, rather bewildered that his name was written so boldly and with such care. It seemed to hold importance and respect, and at that moment, there seemed to be nothing so lacking to him
Godric Gryffindor was born on the 18th September, in the year 934, when such wizards as Loanislad and Tharoguay were still at large. His parents, Lancelot and Lianna Gryffindor, lived in the wizarding town then known as Round Close, which has since been renamed, Godric's Hollow, in respect of his great deeds performed for wizard kind.
Gryffindor is most well known for having participated in the founding of our only Wizarding School in Britain; Hogwarts, along with Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. The four were good friends from birth, growing up together in the then openly wizarding countryside, and deciding at the tender ages of twenty, to found a school for young wizards and witches such as themselves. Each founder established a House, for which they gave their own surname, sorting students apart from one another by mark of merit, achievement and personality. Gryffindor is known to have valued loyalty, bravery and chivalry above all else, perhaps reflected by his achievements in later life.
In the year 961, Gryffindors younger sister married his then best friend, Salazar Slytherin, and was later pronounced to be with child. Only months after the birth of their child, Salazar killed his wife in cold-blood, and this is said to be the reason for the feud of Slytherin and Gryffindor. It was only a matter of days afterwards, that Slytherin was pronounced to have left the castle, and the other three founders never heard from him again.
"I don't wish to read anymore." Godric said, pushing it back towards Remus. "Where did this book come from? I thought the reason for our feud was unknown?"
Sirius raised a hand, and offered, "my library is full of rare and seldom read books. As you can see from the dust, this probably hasn't been read in a hundred years, and I doubt such a fact would have interested my ancestors."
Godric looked at the page before him and shook his head, sighing. "What achievements does it mean?" He asked, looking at Remus for an answer. He did not recieve one, and rolled his eyes. "Why can't I know what's meant to happen to me?" He snapped. "It's my timeline isn't it?"
"Why would you want to know?" Sirius asked, eyes suddenly not full of humour and mischief, but of pain and anguish. "So that you can await death with fear for any movement? So that you can avoid it? Your knowledge of your life could change the course of our lives. And it could easily ruin yours."
Godric assessed the man quickly, and determined that on some level, in some way, the man before him had suffered beyond imagination. "I want to know what I have that's worth going back for," he said softly. "I want to know why that could be so much better than here."
"You'll have freedom there, won't you?" Sirius asked bitterly. "Here, you're stuck inside all day with nobody to talk to. Doesn't that bother you?"
Godric stopped. In truth, since he and Hermione had become involved, he hadn't felt trapped inside the castle at all like he had done before; he had felt free, ready to explore everything... now, he thought, he was trapped without any kind of saviour or help. "I've never considered it," he said honestly, then looked at his soup, eating it slowly to avoid conversation. Remus and Molly both excused themselves, disappearing with loud cracks, and Sirius sat watching Godric with something like contempt in his eyes.
For several minutes, Godric said nothing, but then he met the other mans eyes squarely and spoke quietly. "What makes you so bitter?" He asked, eyes narrow. "Why are you so dead-set on convincing me of freedom? What happened to you?"
"What happened to me is none of your business," Sirius hissed angrily, standing up and gulping Firewhiskey straight from the bottle. "But believe me, in a few days, you'll get bitter about being stuck here, and you'll wish to be home again."
Godric snorted in mock laughter. "Wishing to be home is something that I can assure you will not happen to me."
"You have no idea." Sirius muttered.
"I've got a pretty good one, given that the night I got here was because I hated that place so much I threw myself off a tower!" He felt the words slip through his mouth and cursed himself for becoming so easily spoken after so few Firewhiskeys.
Sirius looked at Godric, for the first time, with kinship in his eyes. "That bad hey?"
Godric nodded solemnly. "Yes. That bad." He stood up. "Where will I be sleeping?"
--
He lay on the creaking bed, lying on is back and looking at the cieling, wondering if he would ever get to see Hermione again. He knew that it was in all likelihood that he would; after all, if he was staying to fight Voldemort, then surely she would be there too. Yet it seemed unlikely that she would come by the Order's headquarters at any time, and if that was the case, then he didn't know how long he would have to wait. He knew, deep down, that it was better for him not to see her, simply because if he saw her, all of his feelings for her would rush back and cause him the same depression as he was experiencing now, but somehow the idea of not seeing her and having those feelings dissipate into nothingness seemed worse than seeing her and having his heart break all over again... There was a knock at the door and he sat up slowly, answering it half-heartedly, only opening the door a little to see Sirius holding a large bottle of Firewhiskey.
"Thought you might like a drink," Sirius shrugged, holding the bottle out.
"So you give me the whole bottle?" Godric couldn't help but feel slightly apprehensive.
The other man shrugged again. "I usually find one leads to another, so the bottles just easier."
Smirking ever so slightly, Godric took it, nodding his thanks.
"Wanna talk?" Sirius muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets and scuffing the floor with the toe of his shoe.
Shrugging his shoulders, Godric opened the door. "Why not? I'll only end up talking after a couple anyway."
A rogue grin spread over Sirius' face, and he clapped the other man on the back, nodding his head in the direction of the stairs. "Theres a drawing room over there, more comfortable."
Godric followed him, looking at the bottle in his hands with interest. "There's quite a lot... are we going to drink all of this?"
Sirius looked back at him with a grin. "What's the matter? Trouble holding your liquor?"
Godric frowned. "Well.. yeah, actually."
Seeming to find this absolutely hilarious, Sirius threw his head back in laughter. "Trust me, a couple of nights here, and you'll be drinking with the big boys."
Godric's frown did not go amiss, but he entered the drawing room and sat down on one of the armchairs, watching as Sirius conjured two glasses from midair. "Right, give us the bottle," Sirius said, holding out his hand and making a beckoning gesture with three fingers. Godric handed it over, apprehensive as Sirius filled each rather large glass to the very brim, so that the moment he lifted it to give it to Godric, some of the amber liquid slopped on the table. "Ahh, nevermind," Sirius shrugged, "I'll clean it up later."
--
After many large glasses of Firewhiskey, which left their throats burning and dry, Godric and Sirius were sat giggling helplessly in their chairs, their words slurred and muddled.
"Minee's good shag," Godric managed, laughing deeply as he downed another glass. "Big...big..." his hands motioned at his chest area.
"Tits?" Sirius supplied, chortling. "You know," he said, sitting up and pointing a shaking finger at Godric as he attempted to keep his eyes open, "you, could be called, a pea...poe...pa... pro..." he frowned, then grinned, "pervert!"
"Mmmm..." Godric nodded, eyes closed. "I loves her, I does... love, love, love, love, love!" He grinned to himself happily, listening as Sirius went on a tirade of comments against love of all forms.
"Love," he said simply, "is a pile of wank!" Laughing at his own statement, Sirius went on. "Useless. Stinky. Pointless."
"USELESS!" Godric repeated, holding up a glass of Firewhiskey and toasting Sirius. "To useless piles of wank!"
"HEAR HEAR!" Sirius cried, slopping half of his drink down his front as he attempted to throw it down his throat.
"To sex!"
"To meaningless sex!" Sirius emphasized, filling both of their glasses up immediately and taking a large gulp.
"To inebria...inebri... iney... inebriated sex!" Godric finally managed.
Sirius laughed aloud, clutching his side. "To whores!"
"To lesbians!"
"To kinkyness!"
"To... to..."
"To fucking paradise!" Sirius finished, closing his eyes and chuckling. "Aha... Minee's good ey?"
"Uhuh," Godric slurred, leaning back in the chair.
Laughing, Sirius muttered, "always thought she would be.."
--
The first thing Godric was aware of was the splitting pain in his head, sending nausea throughout his whole body. The next was the absolute dryness of his throat, so dry that it felt as though any speech at all would split his throat open. Then there was the feel of cold wooden floor beneath his cheek, compressing his face to the extent that when he sat up, it felt like his face might never return to its original look. The room spun around him and he grabbed the arm of the chair to stop the dizzying feeling that was making him feel giddy and sick. He managed to pull himself up onto the seat and placed his head in his hands with a groan, swearing right then that he would never drink Firewhiskey, or indeed any other alcoholic beverage, again.
It was as he sat there, contemplating how exactly he had ended up on the floor, and why he had drunk so much in the first place, that Molly burst into the room with a large platter in her hands, which she placed on the table and waved at him to sit up, while snapping at Sirius, who Godric had not realized was still there. "For goodness sake Sirius, wake up. I need you two to clean the pantry out today. Rats got in and ate goodness knows what and contaminated everything."
"Good morning to you too Molly," Sirius muttered, sitting up and ruffling his hair with a grin at Godric. "Hungover?"
"Hung. Drawn. Quartered." Godric groaned. "Never again."
Sirius let out a raucous laugh and said quite simply, "same time tonight," before piling one of the two plates on the tray high with pancakes, muffines and maple syrup. Godric glanced at the tray, feeling his stomach churn with hunger, but couldn't quite bring himself to eat anything, given that his throat tasted of bile and he was dizzyingly nauseated.
"How are you not ill?" Godric croaked, grabbing a glass of water and throwing it down his throat in an effort to stop it splitting open.
"I, my friend, am immune to hangovers," Sirius smirked. "Haven't had one in my life. Occasionally get a sore throat, but nothing a glass of water can't fix."
Shaking his head, Godric stood up, slightly unbalanced. "I think I'll go to bed."
"You most certainly will not!" Molly snapped. Godric blinked, both out of shock and the fact he couldn't see properly through his sleep-blurred eyes. "If you're staying here, you're working here. That's final!"
Sensing the smug grin on Sirius' face, Godric didn't even bother to turn around and look for help. "Is there any chance of a potion then?" He asked through gritted teeth.
Molly smiled sweetly. "I'll be sure to get it for you." Her tone changed suddenly, "now go and get yourselves changed."
--
Life at Grimmauld Place was dull and somewhat uninspiring. There was little to do but clean the seemingly never-ending house, and drink himself into unconsciousness everynight. He and Sirius bonded fast, usually over a bottle of firewhiskey or Oak-matured Mead, though on several occasions they managed sober conversations, a feat both of them found rather impressive, though extremely draining. Occasionally, Remus would join them in the evenings for a drink, though he usually called it a day once he had slurred a sentence. Godric was shocked to find that he and Sirius had a great deal in common, but still found it rather difficult to talk about his past. The topic that gained most discussion, on his part at least, was Hermione, which both men made a silent oath not to speak of in front of Molly, given that she was quite terrifying in a state, and Godric could not see her taking kindly to him having bedded a seventeen year old girl who, it transpired, had once dated her youngest son.
"You told her you loved her?" Sirius said one afternoon, as they lounged in their chairs in the drawing room. "And she said she didn't love you back?" He rolled his eyes. "Bloody women. One minute, they're begging for a guy to say they love them, so that they can be all happy-ever-after, yet when they finally get the chance, they knock us back in the face." He shook his head. "Bloody women."
"But we couldn't have a happy-ever-after." Godric said softly, looking at his glass and feeling his heart sink, as it always did, at that recognition.
"Why not?" Sirius asked with a shrug, apparently forgetting.
"Because I belong a thousand years in the past."
Sirius opened his mouth, then closed it, nodding slowly. "That could cause a problem I suppose..." he looked thoughtful for several moments, then said. "But you don't know how to get home. So surely you could be here for years and years and years. It could be a happy ending."
"Dumbledore knows how to get me home." Godric said softly. "But I decided to stay until Voldemort was gone."
"Why?"
Godric shrugged. "So I can stop searching for Salazar I suppose. If I know he'll meet his end someday, whether it be through me or someone else, I can live the rest of my life out in peace."
The grey-eyes man sighed. "So you're putting yourself through this heartache over Hermione willingly? You actually chose to stay here and go through it?"
"Yes."
Sirius stared at him, then shook his head. "You're bloody mental!"
Laughing, Godric nodded. "That is, unfortunately, most likely true."
They exchanged a grin, and Sirius held up his glass. "To stupidity!"
"Here we go again," Godric muttered, smirking.
--
After several weeks of cleaning, drinking and somehow recovering, several new faces appeared at Grimmauld Place, and Godric was introduced to Remus' wife, Nymphadora, and Charlie Weasley. On meeting the two, he had walked into the kitchen to see another head of flaming red hair, much alike to Bills, Molly's and Molly's husband, Arthurs, and let out a loud exclamation which he hoped they did not take offence to. "Another bloody red-head?" He gasped. "Did your parents do anything but copulate?" It was, of course, at this moment that Molly walked into the kitchen, with an icy glare sent in Godric's direction, which for some reason he had come to expect from her, perhaps because of the amount of time he spent in Sirius' company.
Charlie had laughed, standing up and extending a rough, calloused hand. "Charlie," he said, grinning before adding in an undertone. "If you think this is bad, there's still five more you haven't met."
Godric stared. "Seven?" He squeaked. "How the hell..?"
"Breakfast," Molly snapped.
Godric sat gingerly, looking at Sirius, who seemed to be stifling his laughter by shovelling forkful after forkful of food into his mouth. He shot him a glare, before reaching for the platter of bacon and sausage sandwiches before him.
Nymphadora, was sat at the opposite end of the table, and he didn't notice her at all until he had bitten into his sandwich. It was then that he frowned, and Remus introduced them.
"Godric, this is my wife, Nympha..." she hit him, and he seemed to correct himself, "this is my wife, Tonks." The emphasis on the final word, and the slightly nervous look Remus cast at his wife amused Godric, and he raised a hand in greeting. He wasn't really sure what to make of the woman really; she had bright pink hair that made him want to blink, and kept making ridiculous faces at him up the table, making her nose change shape in the most peculiar way.
"Metamorphmagus," she explained when Godric queried it. "Can change appearance at.."
"Yes, I know what a Metamorphmagus is," Godric muttered tiredly. "It was a question for politeness sake." He stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. "Thank you for breakfast Molly," He said, then left the room.
--
When he reached the small room in which he was supposed to sleep, though never seemed to, it was to find a large owl perched on the headboard of his bed. He frowned and walked over, unattaching the envelope from the owls leg with ease, and crinkling his eyebrows when the owl didn't move, but instead looked at him expectantly.
"Scat!" He said, flapping his hand. It didn't move. With a sigh, he opened the envelope, slitting it open with his finger, and pulled out the parchment within it, feeling somewhat worried.
Godric,
I hope that your stay with the Order has been productive until now- I hear that you are settling in, perhaps a little too well. I write with the sole intention of notifying you to the fact that, in a few days, Hermione, Harry, and several of the Weasleys, will be arriving at Grimmauld Place for the holidays. If you decide, on these grounds, that you would like to spend the holiday at Hogwarts, please notify me as soon as possible, so that arrangements can be made for your transportation.
Yours
A. Dumbledore
Godric looked at the letter with a small amount of trepidation, and was just debating writing back, when Sirius appeared at the door, a concerned frown on his face.
"You got the letter then?" He said, looking slightly worried.
Godric nodded glumly.
"You going?"
"I suppose so.." Godrics answer held no emotion at all as he stared at the silver looping writing.
Sirius ground his jaw slightly, then said, "you know, you could just stay. Hermione can stay out of your way if that's what she wants. But what use would staying at Hogwarts for Christmas be? At least here there'll be people other than Dumbledore and McGonnagall to talk to.."
"But it's Hermione," Godric sighed. "I don't know if I can face her."
The crease of Sirius eyebrows became more pronounced. "It's been weeks. It's got to be less awkward by now, surely?"
"You know she thinks I went home, right?"
Sirius nodded.
Sighing, Godric looked at the owl. "Go away. If I make my mind up, I'll let him know." The owl hooted slightly, then took off out of the window.
"She's going to find out you're still here sooner or later..."
Shrugging, Godric replied. "Maybe... I just didn't really consider it..."
With a chuckle, Sirius stood up. "If she gives you trouble, we'll just retire to the drawing room for a good stiff one."
Godric snorted with laughter. "You're really not my type."
They both laughed, and Sirius answered. "You won't know until you try me." With a wink, he left the room, grinning.
Godric looked out of the window at the disappearing owl and sighed. Perhaps it was simply time to face her with the truth. Who knew, perhaps she would be so happy at his return that she threw herself into his arms and proclaimed her undying love for him. Well, he thought, he could dream.
--