Harry Potter

The Founders Four

By JadedofMara

Chapter Seven: Starting the Mill

The silence was so loud it hurt. Ron Weasley flicked his wand and Harry's chair righted itself.

Harry stumbled back two steps and fell heavily into the chair, and Ron silently praised Divination. "What?" Harry breathed, his voice closer to the tone he used with Sshycien than normal human speech. "Remus is alive? Sirius is alive?"

Hermione leant forward, her eyes narrowed. "You mentioned families," she said shortly. "Who?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Lily and James Potter, their daughter Therese, Arthur and Molly Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George, and Thomas and Julia Granger and their daughter Irene."

The silence was even worse. Geiror broke it with a loud, meaningless caw/growl, and Sshycien hissed at him. Ron sank further into his chair, absently running a finger over his moustache, eyes glazed.

Flames licked high into the air on the outskirts of the small town of Ottery St. Catchpole. Even from high in the air on their brooms, Ginny and Ron saw and knew. In a flash, they shot off to the ground, ignoring Harry and Hermione's warning shouts.

They landed hard, eyes streaming only partly from the smoke.

The Burrow was caught in the throes of a horrible inferno, far past any hope of saving. A rough hewn wooden sign, just beyond the reach of the conflagration read:

TRAITORS

It was five days before they knew if any had survived.

Ron's breath caught in his throat. The possibilities of this new dimension were endless! George wouldn't be so horribly lost, and Charlie—

"Have they been injured?" asked Ginny worriedly, voicing Ron's thoughts. If Charlie was in the same condition he had been in their previous world…

Dumbledore laughed. "Of course they've been injured; everybody has been at one time or another. But if you mean seriously, or from participation in the war, then—" he chuckled again "—no."

Words could not describe Ron's absolute elation. He hadn't been happier since his second wedding to Hermione. His mother; father; brothers! Alive in this world! It was almost too astonishing to be true!

And yet it had to be. He shared a misty glance with Ginny.

At that moment, nothing—come Hell or high water—nothing would have been able to force him back to his natural dimension.

+I'd hate to be Johnny Raincloud here+ said Hermione very quietly, stroking Raethiel pensively. It was clear to Ron, at least, that though she brought bad news, she was very reluctant to do so. +But he just mentioned a war…+

+It's late+ interjected Harry, his thought-voice rather terse. A quick check revealed that he had thrown up his full Occlumency shields (a set more powerful than even Hermione had ever been able to so much as scratch) around whatever he was feeling and had effectively maintained full Slytherin control. +Let's head for our rooms--this world's Sirius and Remus are outside; they're horrible gossips, so we can start some good rumors—and sleep on this.+

"Alright," said Ginny, answering Harry and gaining Dumbledore's attention at once. She gathered Herana into her arms. "It's late. When do you plan to present us to the school?"

Dumbledore blinked. Mentally, Ron grinned. Dumbledore might think them very abrupt, but it would only add to the impressive mystique they already had as reincarnated Founders, other-worlders and dead people.

And when dealing with Albus Dumbledore, impressive mystique was a necessity.

"We could get everyone together at dinner tomorrow, if that's suitable," said Dumbledore, his tone still rather shell shocked.

"Good," said Hermione, standing. Ron recognized Rowena gleaming in her eyes, and settled into Godric himself. "We shall present ourselves at the Great Hall at the sixth hour past midday. Lovely evening, Headmaster. We shall send the professors up."

She walked out, Raethiel flying after her and settling on her shoulder. Ron, now fully Godric Gryffindor, strode confidently behind her. "Come, Geiror."

#You got it,# boss said Geiror, a grin in his big voice.

+When we get down there, we'll tell them to come up and make a big show of using the Old Language, and our old names+ Ginny explained as they rode down the spiral stairs. +We'll part here and go to our rooms separately.+

+Let's meet in the Training Room in the morning+ suggested Hermione, after making her approval known. +We'll keep out of sight—let the rumors circulate.+

Ron and Harry had barely nodded when the staircase ground to a halt. Hermione stepped off gracefully, and smiled at something.

"If our conversation with the good Headmaster hath caused any inconvenience to ye gentlemen, we present our deepest and most sincere apologies, fine sirs," said Hermione, bowing her head ever so slightly. Ron grinned. Hermione was terribly good at that; even knowing what to expect, Ron had been taken aback by that transition several times before. Sirius, Remus, and Harry's father, especially, gaped at her like fish out of water. "Our conversation is complete, and the Headmaster is eagerly awaiting thy presence." She ducked her head again, and turned to Ginny.

"Pleasant night, Rowena, dear," said Ginny.

Ginny and Hermione kissed each other goodnight on the cheek, following the old French tradition. "Lovely evening, Helga. Come along, Godric, dearest."

"Marvelous, Rowena, love," said Ron, gently touching her arm. He turned to Harry, clasping his hand and elbow. "Get a good rest, Salazar. Thou shalt need it if thou duelest me tomorrow."

Harry gave a little smirk. "And thee as well, Gryffindor."

"Sweet Salazar!" called Ginny from her end of the corridor. "Come along!"

Harry walked toward Ginny, hissing something in a decidedly grumpy tone, and Ron could have sworn that Sshycien was laughing. "Yes, Helga Honey!"

Ginny's eyes flashed with indignation, hefting Herana in her arms. "I warned thee; thou shalt not call me thus!"

"I warned thee; thou shalt not call me thus!" Their bickering faded rapidly as they moved down the corridor toward a certain out-of-order girls restroom. Ron turned to Hermione. "Milady?"

Hermione took the offered arm, and they strode off in the opposite direction, Geiror and Raethiel leading the way. Ron was vaguely aware that Sirius, Remus and James stood where they had left them, still gaping.