Ouroboros

by Novus Ars

Salazar Slytherin woke up in the body of a three year old boy with the most ridiculous head of black hair & a runic scar craved into his forehead. The last thing he recalled was dying. Now it is over 900 years in the future. There are a million things to deal with between new inventions, lost knowledge, missing spirits, & parasitic dark lords. (multi-povs. Unreliable narrator. AU)

31. Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One

oooP1ooo

(Harry)

The jewel glowed a mocking deep orange. A sizable pile of baby gifts sat haphazardly on the floor by one of the orange trees within Gryffindor Manor's ginormous, over-the-top conservatory. Letters covered one of the conservatory's little tables, all to "Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived". Some included variations of "& Guardians" on the postage. The first he had pulled out had been dated barely a day after the fateful Samhain night.

Salazar glared at the postal box in helpless hope doing so might actually make the next time he opened it reveal the expected package of formal robes he needed for the Bones party. He turned the little knob and the box resized. Inside was another present wrapped in paper covered with cheerful moving ducks that had comic book clouds appearing with the words "quack, quack" every few waddling steps. He huffed and pulled the present out, telekinetically moved it to the pile, and closed the postal box's door once more.

He should have pushed back against Cassiopeia when she decided to pay for clothing for all his parties. Going through ten years of The-Boy-Who-Lived fanmail could have been avoided if he had just said no. How many people could possibly expect an eleven-year-old orphan to dress up correctly anyway?

Another pile of old letters addressed to him and his guardian filled the interior of the postal box next. He tossed them all at the buried table and tried again. The box resized to almost his height and revealed a box pronouncing "Child's First Quidditch Team Gear — Illuminate your Child's Talent Early (Team Members Not Included)". Salazar dramatically reached out and made a fist in the air as he mentally grabbed the huge box and yanked it from the postal box. It made a loud thud as it dropped by the existing pile of much more realistic-sized presents for a toddler. (Though, until this latest, he had thought the other presents just as ridiculous.)

"Right," Godric remarked from behind him, "You'll not get through all of that in time for the party. Olen, Mipsy!"

The two House elves pop-clicked into the room.

Salazar sighed and looked over to them all even as Godric explained, "Can you help Sally organize his mail? The thing is filled to the brim with presents and things from the last ten years."

"I be doing that!" chirped Mipsy.

"Master Rie called Olen too," countered Olen, his ears drew backward and against his head like an offended cat. It only enhanced how utterly offended he sounded. "We be doing it together."

Mipsy frowned.

Salazar remarked, "I need it emptied by lunch. You don't need to sort any of it. I'm expecting a package with clothing for the Bone's party and it won't show up until everything else is removed–" He yanked the pamphlet about the box out from under various letters in annoyance and glanced over it once more. "–apparently."

He caught the two elves sharing a grudging look of acceptance. Then Olen snapped his fingers, causing the pile of presents and letters to rise into the air, and Mipsy picked up the box. Then they pop-clicked from the room.

Godric noted with far too much cheer, "Now that's down, sword training. The entire first basement floor is set up for training and dueling. Let's use it. It's been forever."

A disagreeing sound escaped Salazar before he could suppress it. "It's been a week." The unimpressed look Godric sent him had Salazar rising all the same.

They continued their normal routine of sword training, including a few rounds blind. Once they got through warming up, going through repetitive forms, dueling with and without glasses (or with a blindfold), and then cooling down, it was lunchtime. The floor down was the kitchen which was already warmed and filled with the smells of delicious food.

While the little kitchen was on the second level of the basement, it was enchanted with windows showing the view over the ocean and Godric's Hollow. With the warm wood of the cabinets and storage and the enchanted light, the room felt cozy instead of small. The center of the room had a wooden table with chairs squashed against one side and various cutting boards on the other. The founders claimed seats there instead of going two flights up to the formal dining room.

Mipsy pop-clicked into the room as Salazar claimed one of the fillets of sole. She beamed at the sight of them digging into the food she or Olen had made of their groceries. "Master Sally's robes be ready in his room. We be dumping all the old mail into the empty potion lab in your suite at Hogwarts. New letters and things be in the conservatory."

"Thank you, Mipsy," Salazar said as he poured a cup of tea; the scent of his preferred mint danced in the steam.

She nodded before she turned to Godric. "Olen be cleaning the manor."

"Oh," Godric muttered, "suppose it could use it. Uh–" He straightened from his seat at the kitchen table and called out, "Olen."

Olen pop-clicked in with a sweeping bow.

"Let's not set the rooms up for living in right now. We'll be at Hogwarts again in a week. No reason to remove all the protective sheets and such from the furniture."

He nodded. "I be tidying, that's all Master Rie."

"Thanks," Godric offered.

The little elf beamed before he and Mipsy vanished.

Salazar pour another cup of tea and pushed it over to Godric. Gryffindor grimaced but accept the drink. The room was quiet besides the sound of their utensils against the plates as they ate. Their fish was a soft sweet flavor, enhanced by a buttery lemon sauce and a pile of fresh berries from the conservatory. After the long workout, the food kept their attention until it was all gone.

Once Godric pushed his plate and cup away, Salazar snagged the empty tea cup and took a careful look over the mush of tea particles at the bottom of the cup. A frown immediately twisted free at the sight.

"What is it?" Godric asked.

He grimaced and muttered, "...a lightning bolt."

"You mean," Godric responded slowly as his brow furrowed, "it's your scar? A sōwilō rune?"

Salazar glared down at the mush that was very clearly a sōwilō rune. He reluctantly agreed, "Yes."

"The fuck is that doing in my cup?" Godric demanded, "Why isn't it in your cup? What's in your cup anyway?"

Salazar traded cups and frowned at the sight of a dog's head. He huffed, "Black–I mean, it's a dog's head." He looked up at Godric and saw his brother reclaim his cup. "I need to get ready and go to the party." He rose, hesitated, and then asked, "What are you going to do?" Salazar wasn't entirely thrilled at the idea of being social while Godric was stuck in the manor. When his brother didn't respond, Salazar prompted, "Godric?"

The blond jerked his gaze up from his teacup and said with a shrug, "Gringotts maybe? I've letters to go over also." His hazel gaze sharpened on Salazar and he ordered, "Don't worry about me. Go have fun. Make cute little friends. Gain some blackmail on the ministry workers. Don't make people think there's more about you than being The-Boy-Who-Lived."

Salazar hesitated a second longer before he gave a sharp nod and headed upstairs to get ready.

oooP2ooo

(Neville)

Tea leaves floated in the shape of a sword, his seax. His sword had been found in the nursery where Sally had been attacked and gained the scar on his head. The tea leaves in his cup had looked like that scar for his brother. Now it looked like his sword to him.

Godric stood up and walked around the table to look into Sally's cup without moving it. He didn't see a dog's head within its depths. Instead, he saw a rodent of some type.

He leaned over the table and snagged his cup once more. Even with the haphazard movement, the leaves looked like a sword to him. Godric turned the cup about but the leaves didn't change. He flipped the cup over and let the mush splatter across the table. Finally, the mush showed a sōwilō rune.

His sword was cursed in some way. It had likely happened the night Sally got the scar. The tea seemed to be telling him the obvious—what was done to his sword was tied to that night and even to why Sally got the scar.

Godric couldn't help but wonder at what he wasn't seeing. Divining was never straightforward. What more to this was there?

A pop-click yanked Godric from his thoughts. Olen blinked up at him, seemingly surprised that Godric was still in the kitchen.

"Thanks for cleaning up after us," Godric offered before he swept from the kitchen, slapping the door open and against the wall as he rushed through the floor.

He skipped up multiple steps at a time and almost banged the next door, hidden behind fancy molding of the grander stairs within the rest of the manor.—The kitchen level was clearly primarily the servants' floor. It had taken far too long and Sally's help to figure out there was another two floors below the training level because the much smaller stairwell was tucked away behind a hidden door.—From the basement's training level, he ran up two flights to the little suite of rooms he had claimed on the first floor.

The sword was still wrapped up in one of Salazar's shirts and sitting innocently on the desk in the sitting room. Godric was glad Olen had left it alone. Having a sword bundled up in a shirt instead of properly sheathed was the only visual oddity present but he knew there was something wrong with it. Olen must have sensed that fact also.

Godric frowned down at it for a long moment before he reached out and pressed a hand to the bundle. Even with the shirt in the way and not possessing Salazar's sensory skills, he could feel the off-putting magic emanating from the sword.

It was not as it should be.

He reached out with his magic, similar to how he had with Alfred but more carefully. The Sorting Hat had been cursed and covered in enchantments it shouldn't have had but it hadn't felt anywhere similar to this.

Magic prickled across his senses as he reached for the sword's weave of magic. It hooked against him and tugged. An ache spread across his chest even as he finally reached the weave. The connection altered his perception and Godric immediately knew that the sword's magic was entirely encapsulated by whatever Tom Riddle had done and whatever he had done was wrong—Fundamentally wrong.

This was an active ritual. Still active, after all these years. And he was interacting with it.

Nausea rolled through him as the many tiny hooks scrapped across his very being, trying to catch hold and pull something from him. It was trying to complete itself but it wasn't just magic it wanted from Godric. The magic—the incompleted ritual thrumming and wrapped in a stranglehold around his sword—wanted more than magic from him. It wanted so much more.

What that more was alluded him. He could tell it could not claim whatever it was. There was another part of the ritual needed to prepare whatever this magic wanted from him. He tried to understand what it was trying to take but all he could sense was a disturbing cold hunger.

It reminded him of dementors.

The Gryffindor founder jerked away from it as nausea hit a crescendo. He stumbled from his sword and bent in half as his lunch spewed out of him. The ache across his chest sharpened and spread. It was like pinpricks of every nerve in his body were responding to whatever the horrid ritual had tried to do. His head throbbed in warning of an oncoming headache as he righted himself and the world shook in his vision.

What. The. Fuck.

Godric dropped down onto a chair and stared across the way at his sword without really seeing it. His thoughts danced about what to do with what he knew. Rituals were Salazar's forte but Godric was not letting Sally anywhere near the sword. So he had to handle this.

Well, he could consult with Sally.—As soon as he told Sally it was an incomplete ritual, Sally would want to investigate it himself.

He needed to put the sword in some container and secure it so Sally couldn't interact with it without Godric's permission.

Easier said than done.

A wave of his hand banished the vomit. He closed his eyes, tilted his head up, and just breathed for a few minutes. Salazar was gone, or soon to be gone, for the day. He had time to figure this out.

Gringotts had a display case made for this sword. It was probably removable from his vault. He would just need to enchant or curse the case to only let him open it and put up every fucking alerting system he could so he would be alerted to Sally fiddling with it. It could be kept in his suite in Hogwarts too. Sally didn't know where that was and Hogwarts should be willing to keep mum on it.

By the Mother, it was like he was trying to keep sweets from a child. He could imagine the indignation radiating from Sally already.

With a nod at the plan, Godric vanished into the bathroom to clean up before he headed for Diagon Alley and Gringotts. While there, he could visit the Bargeworthys too.

oooP3ooo

(Harry)

"Harry, you made it!" cried a voice as Salazar righted himself from the obnoxious floo travel. (He was absolutely going to pursue mirror travel to usurp the floo network. Set it up so the government couldn't take it from him and he'd make a fortune while saving everyone from this existing hell. It'll be wonderful.—Whenever he found the time to do so, at least.)

He turned toward the shout and smiled at the sight of Susan Bones. His cheerful, however distant, cousin beamed as she clearly took his appearance as an excuse to flee a conversation with some very elderly, interestingly dressed, people.

"Susan," Salazar said with a nod.

She responded by snagging his arm and directing him in the opposite direction of the elders. "We'll have to introduce you to my Aunt, she's the main host, and then I'll show you where everyone our age is hiding. I'll have to help host at the beginning but once I've greeted everyone, I'll come back and we can pull out some games or something."

Salazar nodded along to her explanation as she pulled him through the warmly lit antechamber and into a room filled with candlelight and fir trees that glittered in the light. Marble lined the floor in an intricate, geometric pattern. An orchestra of music played from a corner where a couple of magic users conducted floating instruments.

There were at least a hundred people mingling amongst each other. All of them glittered and gleamed in holiday outfits utterly covered in charms and illusions. The headpieces—only some could be called hats—were as extravagant as the outfits. One had an entire Christmas carol-like scene animated on repeat. Another looked like she was surrounded by falling snow that came from her hat. The most extravagant, for the most part, were from the ladies in the crowd.

It took a moment to notice anything else but he did eventually spy a buffet against one wall. It started with a fountain of some type of fizzy drink and ended with multiple fountains of chocolate where berries and other treats floated to be drenched so that people only needed to claim a floating skewer.

"I know," Susan muttered as they dodge around a group, "It's not as fun as some parties. This is really a Ministry function. See–" She pointed over at a rotund man Salazar was surprised to vaguely recognize. He was standing with a puffed-up chest at something his companion had said, "–that's Minister Fudge. I'll do what I can to keep him from hearing you're here. He'll not leave you alone for a minute if he knew. Most of them won't, actually."

"Ah," muttered Salazar before he adjusted his own festive hat Cassiopeia had included with his outfit and said louder, "I appreciate it."

She grinned. "'Course." She paused and Salazar stopped with her. "There's my Aunt—Ugh. She's with Scrimgeour…Don't say anything. Aunt Amelia will play along and maybe we'll get you out of there without him telling the entire room." She glanced back at him and added quieter. "He's almost as bad a suck-up as the Minister. But decent Auror, apparently.—Glad you wore a hat."

"Me too," Salazar agreed dryly as she pulled him along once more. For more reasons than one, in fact. He had yet to see someone without a headpiece on. It was too bad Cassiopeia and the tailors insisted he wear something more festive than his normal enchanted hat. Anyone that had seen a picture of him could potentially connect the dots since this hat didn't have the needed runic matrixes.

Amelia Bones was a stern-looking woman with slate gray hair cut short. She was one of the few that wore more "serious" clothing. Susan wore a similar outfit. Simple but cheerful with gold and black accents—almost Hufflepuff-like but just slightly off as if to remind people of the school house and its reputation for justice and loyalty while not implying they were part of the actual Hufflepuff House. It was a nice touch. Fur tree garland warped the cap of the stern woman's hat with fairy lights floating amongst it instead of some dramatic headpiece.

Her companion was an older gentleman whose hair and sideburns left a vague impression of a lion. His outfit was similarly simple in design but very clearly Christmas-colored. He seemed a serious type and none too thrilled at the sight of children to interrupt whatever he had been talking to Amelia about.

"Aunt Amelia," Susan greeted, "Our cousin just made it in. I'm going to show him where everyone is if that's alright?"

The woman smiled at them and amusement sparked in her gaze as Susan spoke. She nodded in agreement as she said first, "Excellent plan, Susan." She turned to Scrimgeour. "I'll have to return to the front to greet guests Rufus. I'm sure Arthur would be thrilled you joined in his raids. He just begun the planning stage so speak to him directly once he's back from Holiday."

Rufus groused, "Where is the man anyhow?"

"Romania, I believe," Amelia answered as she shifted to end the conversation, "Visiting one of his sons. Now, excuse us."

Amelia Bones guided them to follow her to the closest wall. There she turned to Salazar and greeted him properly, "Wonderful to meet you properly Mr. Potter. I'm Amelia Bones, Head of the Law Enforcement Department of the Ministry. I hope to continue to meet you under these circumstances instead of from any law-breaking. Keep your nose clean, would you?"

Salazar blinked at the request, uncertain he had heard her right for a second before he flashed a grin up at her. "I shall endeavor to do so."

"And there's the Potter smile," she shook her head even as she smiled back and said, "Mischief makers, the lot of them. Enjoy the party. Keep that hat on."

"Yes, ma'am." Salazar said.

A grinning Susan once more dragged him away. Once her aunt wasn't near, she remarked, "So what mischief have you done so far, huh?—Oh, Hannah! There's Hannah–" She pointed to the girl over near another buffet. "–She's refilling the contraband. Let's help her." Susan waved and called out once more, "Hannah!"

Hannah turned toward them and first grinned at Susan and then just sort of stilled when she spotted Salazar. As they reached her, Salazar noticed a literal bucket half filled with sweets and candies. Another bucket had some Butterbeer. Susan immediately started filling the buckets up, her gaze darting back toward the front of the room as she did so. Hannah stood there and stared at him.

"Hannah," Salazar greeted softly as he looked over her clothing, "I can help with the Butterbeer?" She had birds and lilies decorating her dress and robes but he wasn't entirely certain what type of bird. Salazar had never paid much mind to birds beyond Hedwig.

She blinked, stared for a second longer as if she didn't quite understand what she was seeing, and then she nodded. "Right, yeah. It's a tad heavy though. That's why I hadn't filled it up all the way."

Susan's attention snapped to them and she hissed, "No wand waving around. Can't break the underage law with my aunt and with all the Aurors wandering around, and the Minister himself here."

"Of course not," Salazar agreed with a straight face even as he tapped two fingers against the bucket in such a way only Hannah may notice the little runic array flare to life, "I'm to keep my nose clean. I haven't forgotten yet."

"Funny that you expect to forget it at all," snarked Susan.

Hannah choked back a noise. Salazar couldn't say if it was a laugh or something more hysterical. She looked a little overwhelmed. Susan frowned over at her in worry.

Salazar stepped between them, added another dozen Butterbeers to the bucket, and lifted it up. It only weighed enough to strain his arm for visual effect. The bucket hung heavy on its handle and didn't swing at all. "Where to?"

Susan startled and refocused. "Oh." She smiled before something near the front of the room pulled her gaze. "Oh, drat. The rest of the Warlock Circle has shown up. Why do old people come in groups? I have to go help my aunt. Hannah can show you." Then she was gone.

He turned to look at Hannah from the side. She still looked flummoxed by the situation. Salazar sighed.

"Sorry," Hannah muttered, her head dipping so her chin pointed down. She scuffed a shoe against the floor as she visibly stopped herself from saying something.

"Nothing has really changed, Hannah."

She snapped her gaze back up at him and scoffed, "Nothing–"

"Who I am hasn't changed." Salazar countered softly as he turned fully to her, "I'm the same person, still your distant cousin. Just with a longer name."

"No acting?" she demanded.

Salazar paused and sighed. "Only a little. I've mostly been attempting…and failing not to teach all of you. The acting is primarily for the adults so they think me an eleven-year-old."

Hannah nibbled on her bottom lip as she considered him for a long moment then she puffed out a breath and picked up the other bucket. "This way," she said with a wave of her hand toward the back of what seemed like an endless ballroom and led the way. After a moment she asked quietly, "How-How is Neville? After everything?"

"He's," Salazar said as he considered his brother, "doing well all things considered. He isn't…well, there's isn't a way to truly recover from such a thing but he appears to be adjusting. Getting used to the changes."

"How come he was, uh…why was he a Longbottom and you a Potter?" Hannah asked, voice still carefully low, as they reached a side door. She turned around to push it open with her back as she continued to carry the bucket. Her gaze flicked up to look at him before dropping quickly back to the bucket.

Salazar shrugged at her since she could see his non-verbal response properly for the second she dared look but also offered, "His daughter married the Longbottom Pater back in the day."

Hannah's gaze snapped back up wide and gleamed with interest. She blurted out, "Seriously? That would mean he's, you know, related to himself! And you? Are you related to yourself?"

"I never had children," Salazar answered quietly, "I died before I ever really considered the possibility." Hannah's lips parted slightly as she gawked at his answer. "But I do believe there's some distant relationship through my mothers."

"Huh." She held the door open for him and they stepped into a fairly normal, though ornatly panelled with wood, hall. It only had landscape paintings on the walls for decor. There was no nosy portrait of a Bones ancestor present. "Almost there."

The room was just around the corner. Inside were multiple fellow first years and a couple of slightly older students lounging around together in a large sitting room with a couple of couches and chairs surrounding a large fireplace. It was a mix of schoolhouses, which brought a faint smile forward.

"Oh thank Merlin, Potter," announced Blaise Zabini as he sprang up and took the bucket from Hannah. "I thought I'd be the only Slytherin–"

"Excuse me? Only Slytherin my ass," scoffed a dark-haired girl as she rose with the rest. She looked slightly familiar but Salazar wasn't certain if it was just from seeing her in the dorms.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "You're a Hufflepuff no matter how you've been sorted Finula. You lot still insisting on being called Smiths doesn't hide the fact from anyone."

"I've been informed multiple times that I should have been sorted into Ravenclaw," Salazar offered with deep amusement as he realized she had to be one of Helga's descendants. "Doesn't mean I am anything but Slytherin."

Finula Smith rolled her eyes at him. "That doesn't count in the slightest. You were sorted in Slytherin and so you're a Slytherin! I was sorted in Slytherin but idiots insist I'm just a badger hiding amongst snakes."

"Ah but clearly you are," Salazar countered. She scowled at him but he continued his explanation, "That doesn't mean you shouldn't be considered with similar regard. Snakes are an entirely common meal for badgers after all."

Blaise made a wounded sound. A choking sound escaped Hannah.

Finula's scowl vanished and an almost unholy gleam appeared in her gaze. "Oh," she stated with an intimidating smile slowly spreading across her young face, "I like you, Potter."

Salazar belatedly wondered if his statement might be construed as flirting. He frowned at the older girl and said dryly, "I'm not sure that's a good thing. For me, at least."

"Is, uh…Neville coming?"

Salazar turned from his two Slytherins and found Anthony Goldstein and Zacharias Smith. Beyond them stood the rest of the older children blatantly listening in but staying separate. One of the girls reminded him of Finula, though lighter in coloring, and was also vaguely familiar but this time he knew what he was seeing. The girls reminded him of Helga more than their mother had.

Both girls and Zarharias wore clothing with some type of embroidery or illusionary design that included a badger. The other two older children were entirely different looking physically but wore outfits with some marker or design of a porcupine.

He wondered if his outfit's hinted snake design was screaming the truth about himself. It was considerably more subtle than what the other children wore but it was still snake related. Most people would likely just see green and hints of silver, which was entirely festive.

"Uhm, I don't think he'd be invited without–without…you know," Hannah spoke up, pulling Salazar attention back to the question at hand.

"And why would Potter even know that?" scoffed Blaise.

Anthony, the one that had asked, flushed and sputtered out, "Neville's staying with him!"

Blaise pivoted and gave Salazar a very done look. "Of course, you opened your very exclusive and well-hidden home to him. I expect an invite at some point, Potter. Don't worry, I'll play nice with the Gryffindor."

Salazar looked over at him in amusement but didn't have a chance to respond.

Susan appeared through the door with Padma and Parvati Patil trailing after her. For all that everyone was wearing festive outfits that sparkled and gleamed with holiday and hints of House coloring, the Patil twins were vibrant in colors that just felt joyful. They glittered with beautifully made gold bracelets and necklaces that were clearly charmed to catch the light and attention of everyone. Their outfits weren't fit for the cold weather and certainly didn't match with the rest of their outfits but they were rich and undeniably woven with multiple enchantments. One of those enchantments had to take care of the temperature issues a muggle version of the outfits would have.

There was also a design of a snake he almost mistook for a king cobra within the fabrics. His House magicks stirred and he knew, just as Godric had known with Nimue, that the girls before him could be named family. But there was no pressing need, just an acknowledgment and a whisper of future could-bes because he wasn't the Pater or head of the ancient clan with the King Cobra totem. He was only Pater to an offshoot and he suspected they were members of another offshoot. One that had the potential to be claimed by him but was also content being on its own.

"We almost have everyone," Susan announced, "Uh, does everyone know each other? I think just Harry might not?"

Salazar nodded as he glanced over the group of children to the three older ones standing separately. "I know most of you and meet Finula but I haven't had a chance to meet you three."

The Hufflepuff-Smith nodded at him politely, "I'm Lucasta Smith, Finula's older sister."

"Heir of Hufflepuff," added Susan.

Zacharias made a quiet but derisive noise Salazar was just close enough to overhear. Anthony helpfully elbowed him.

The boy in the group of three waved. "Nothing nearly as fancy. I'm Miles Fortescue and this is my cousin Imelda–"

"I can introduce myself," huffed Imelda with a faint smile. She stepped forward and offered a hand, "Imelda Fortescue. Nice to meet you, Potter. I'm in Slytherin also. Zabini is far too dramatic." Her gaze flicked over to Blaise as Salazar took her hand to shake. "Or he's really actually sexiest, which would be an accomplishment what with his black widow of a mother."

"Can't blame a chap for wanting to avoid the deadlier sex," scoffed Blaise.

She smirked back at the boy.

"I'm in Ravenclaw if anyone cares," Miles stated cheerfully, "And Lucasta is obviously a Hufflepuff. We're all third years."

Finula snorted and folded her arms in front of herself defensively at the 'obvious' aspect of being a Hufflepuff. "I'm a second year."

"Right well, while you lot puff up and complain," Parvati remarked dryly, "I'm the only Gryffindor present."

"Congratulations on such an accomplishment," Finula snarked in response. Then added after a slight, dramatic pause. "Oh wait. You're the only one here because Longbottom got disowned and isn't a Longbottom to come to the party anymore."

Salazar winced even as Parvati shifted uncomfortably about. Hannah looked ready to faint as her gaze jumped from one of Helga's descendants to Salazar and back.

"Finula," warned Lucasta.

Finula flashed her older sister a withering look at the admonishment in the older girl's voice. "I'm just saying." She turned back and remarked to Salazar, "How is the poor boy anyway? Is he coming back to Hogwarts at least?"

The newcomers turned to Salazar in interest.

He shrugged, offering as little as possible because its none of their business though he was glad to hear some sincerity in her tone. "He's doing alright and will be returning to Hogwarts with all of us."

"That's good," Susan said while the others made agreeing noises and nodded along to her words. After a pause, their host sighed. "Well, I have to brave the masses once more. We've Megan and Leanne coming also. Don't kill each other until I'm back to watch the show."

oooP4ooo

(Neville)

Godric shifted Sally's satchel so its strap crossed his chest and the bag hung against his backside. The sword case had been "permanently" spelled to the shelf in his vault but that had been simple enough to undo. It took longer to reach the vault than to free the case.

A quick glance at his wristwatch revealed it was a good hour before four. Teresa Bargeworthy had said to come anytime before four. He pulled out the letter from her and frowned at the provided address. If he could find the place quickly, there would be time to meet.

ooo

Westerly Apartments

Flat 53 & 3/8ths

1332 Diagon Alley

ooo

He glanced over the courtyard before Gringotts. There weren't any numbers on the nearby buildings. At least none he could recognize as an address. His gaze fell on the post office and, after a moment to reconsider, he shrugged at himself and wandered into the much quieter building now that Christmas was over.

Dear-overworked Nick was at the front once more. He looked very unimpressed at Godric as the founder explained his issue. It might have been the hat Godric was wearing or Nick was just done with the world in general and could do with a career change but the man still helped with directions so it wasn't really Godric's business or problem.

Godric headed left down the cobblestone lane past Odds & Ends and Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment. Then he took a right at the crossroads between Hound & Quail (which smelled divine) and Mother's Little Munchkin Playdates (which had sounds escaping from it that made Godric question if someone was being tortured within). At the very end of the lane where a small courtyard stood and beside a tempting-smelling pizzeria was the multistoried, rather lopsided, about-to-fall-over Westerly Apartments.

Visually Godric only counted three stories where he had expected five because of the address. Five stories would have made it as tall as Gringotts which was the tallest building in Diagon Alley as far as he could tell which should have been his first indication that the apartments couldn't be visibly five stories. At the apartment door, there was a sign pointed inside for "Ground, Second, Fourth & Eighth Floors" and pointed to an outdoor set of covered stairs for "Everything Else". Godric stood before that sign for a little too long as he considered why such a thing would be necessary. He forced himself to move on when he realized a few older people relaxing in the square were giving him odd looks.

He guessed that Flat 53 & 3/8ths was on the fifth floor and took the outside stairs for "Everything Else" in hopes that included it. It creaked and shook from his weight in some places and smelled of mildew. Crossroads came at odd turns. Each had a sign for a different level but some stairs went up and some went down—even when it seemed more likely the stairs should go up. He first came across a sign for Floor Thirteen which caused him to pause once more and stare in incredulous horror. The next was for Floor Nine so he decided to not think too hard about it.

By the time he found the sign for the fifth floor, Godric was absolutely glad he hadn't brought Sally along. The horror of magic that had to make the apartment building possible would have given his brother a heart attack since he likely would have constantly sensed all the damn magic. Godric could feel the magic in the air, keeping the place together. He could guess what it all did but was also able to mostly ignore the horrifying possibilities.

For the moment, while in the heart of the monstrosity, he firmly ignored it all.

On the fifth floor, he found three doors. Each had a plaque of buttons like an elevator. The third door had the number 53 on it but there was no indication of 3/8ths.

Godric pressed the button for 53. The wooden door before him shuddered and shook. Eight doorknobs and a row of doorbells with 1/8 through 8/8 materialized. Before he thought too hard about it, he pressed the 3/8th doorbell. A moment later the door shuddered once more and all but one doorknob vanished.

The door slid open and revealed an old lady. Her gaze swiveled about and slowly dropped to Godric. She blinked and then scowled.

"What you bothering me about? I've got nothing for you. Go scam someone els–"

Godric quickly yanked his hat off his head.

Her expression dropped to surprised wonder. "Oh…Neville." Sadness replaced that wonder immediately after and she repeated her words with a tone Godric could only describe as pitying. "Oh, Neville." She moved aside and waved him in as she stated, "Come in, come in…I'll-I'll make us some hot chocolate shall I?"

"You don't have to–"

"No, no," she waved nervously about as she spoke. It was oddly specific motions like a clawed hand in front of her mouth and then rocking fingers in a squarish shape under her chin. "some hot chocolate will do us both good."

"Right," Godric answered helplessly as he stepped into the apartment.

It was tiny. There was a single ajar door that revealed a teeny bathroom but otherwise, it was a single room with high ceilings where shelves and cubbyholes were stuffed with things he couldn't make out. The room consisted of a little sitting area. Two little loveseats were crammed into the space with a coffee table covered in crayons, basic books about magick and history, and thick tomes on teaching. Children's drawings covered a corkboard near the bathroom door. Hooks for brooms, where an old cleansweep hung, and coats lined the wall beside the front door. Skylights brought natural light into the room. There were no other windows.

Teresa Bargeworthy, or he guessed it was Teresa Bargeworthy, waved her wand about and the tiny sitting room changed and shifted into a little kitchen with a round table at the center of the room that was squashed with five chairs. The wall hangings and lack of windows didn't change. The cold storage had more children's art and graded schoolwork on it besides a large monthly schedule covered in notes about work and appointments. A wreath and some garlen attempted to bring the holiday festivities into the space but Godric felt them lacking and simply sad.

She waved him to a chair at the table even as she fled, as much as she could, to the kitchen to make hot chocolate. Godric reluctantly sank into a seat and watched her fiddle about as if busy even though she had already done the magic needed to make the drinks. He left her stew as he, himself, wondered at what the hell he was doing here.

Part of him had wanted to find family—had needed to find family—but he had Salazar. He wasn't alone. He wasn't really an eleven-year-old that had been tossed from the only family and home he had always known. Teresa Bargeworthy clearly didn't have any means to help him if he had been an eleven-year-old for true. Being here only added stress to the poor woman before him.

Finally, she pivoted about with a pasted-on smile and two cups of hot chocolate. She set the cups down and claimed a seat across from Godric. Then they sat there and stared at each other. Both took turns escaping the need to say anything by sipping the hot drink. She'd motioned her hands about every once in a while as if about to speak but then stopped and looked a little lost.

He was being ridiculous coming here. Godric regretted barging into this woman's life the longer they sat in silence. With that feeling prevailing through him, he broke the awkwardness with a short, "Teresa, right? My mum's mum?"

She startled and flushed before she stumbled over her words, "Ye-yes. Teresa-Alice…I mean. I'm Teresa Bargeworthy, yes. Alice was my eldes–"

"She's not dead." He fought a grimace even as the words escaped him but the woman, Alice's mother, had spoken as if his mum was dead and she really wasn't.

Teresa flinched. She opened her mouth a few times before she whispered, "Honey, she and Frank are as good as gone. The Longbottoms have tried to heal them for over a decade now."

Godric fought his counterstatement. It was no use to say Alice hadn't been given a chance at treatment by the Longbottoms, that the Longbottoms had only ever given a damn about Frank. Teresa clearly had no way to give Alice any type of treatment plan either. At least with the Longbottoms, Alice had consistent care. Teresa couldn't possibly even do that for her daughter.

She rose and flicked her wand about, causing the kitchen cabinets to vanish. In their place were bookshelves. A frame flew off a shelf and into Teresa's hand. She set it flat on the table and pushed it over to him while she leaned in, tapping two fingers of her right hand over two fingers of her left before waving the touching fingers in a circle over the picture.

His brow furrowed as he tried to understand why the hand motion before his gaze dropped to the image and its content thoroughly distracted him.

It was a picture of a large family. A young Alice beamed out from her seat beside a slightly younger girl. Slightly separate from them was an even younger girl. Behind Alice and the middle girl was a younger Teresa seated beside a grinning man who put an arm around her shoulders to tug her closer. Beside them sat another couple who leaned over to help the tiny girl sit quietly for the portrait. Another man stood slightly to the side with a grin and two elderly couples stood behind the young families.

Teresa pointed to Alice, "That's your mother, she had just gotten her Hogwarts letter when we had this picture taken. She ended up in Hufflepuff, did you know?" her finger moved to the girl beside Alice. "And that's my younger daughter Jane. Ended up in Gryffindor herself."

"What," Godric hesitantly asked as he dragged his hazel gaze up to look at Teresa, "happened to everyone?" To you remained unsaid.

Her lips pursed together as her gaze lifted from the picture to meet his. Tears gleamed in them. "The war happened, Neville." She looked back down and pointed to the man at her side in the image, "My husband Hendrix was the heir of the Bargeworthy family—we're too young still to be officially a familia but there's a hint of possibly family magic showing up at that point…It was only a matter of time…Uh, anyway…He was expected to inherit the family's export-import business…"

Teresa paused and sniffed as she rubbed her finger over Hendrix's photographed face. "It was one of the first businesses destroyed by the Knights of Walpurgis, before they became known as the Death Eaters. They killed your grandfather-" She moved her finger over to point to the other men in turn, "and all the rest of the men, your uncles and great uncle, in one night. They burned down the business and Cecilia, your great grandmother, and I tried to rebuild, to keep the business connections and everything but–but it all evaporated before our eyes. Every contract was ended and snapped up by–" Her expression twisted with hate for a second as she tried to control her reaction. "–Rookwood and his ilk."

She fell silent for a long moment before she sighed. "Your mother had your older siblings during that time and lost them…and I couldn't really help her. I had so much to deal with and she was safe under the care of the Longbottom House. And poor Jane had to deal with the consequence of us losing the business…" She fell silent for a long moment before she tapped the image of Cecilia and then the other elderly woman and down to the young mother and tiny little girl. "They all died at various times over the decade before Potter stopped the dark lord…Death Eater raids are horrible things to experience, especially when you have no safe place to flee."

Godric swallowed spit and recalled his cup of hot chocolate but only grasped it between his hands as he said, "So…so it's just you and Jane left then?"

Teresa's gaze flicked up from the picture to over Godric's shoulder before focusing on him and nodding.

He was tempted to look behind him but instead focused on why he had come here. "I'm sorry–"

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"Yes, well," Godric looked over the tiny flat and offered, "I'm not here to take anything or anything like that. I just wanted to meet you. I never really knew why I never met you before–"

Her expression spasmed between politely blank and a grimace. "You were being cared for…you and Alice. Us being a part of your life wouldn't have done anything but cause strife. Houses don't bother marrying the bottom of the barrel and there was talk that Franklin should put Alice aside after we lost everything of all things. It was–" She took a shuddering breath. '–was better that we kept our distance."

Godric stared, waiting for something more from her but she only turned her gaze to the picture laid between them. He finished off his hot chocolate as he tried to think of something more to say or do. Part of him itched to offer the woman space in the manor. Jane also, especially if she lived in such a tiny flat too.

But Teresa Bargeworthy had yet to call herself his grandmother. Maybe she assumed he would name her such without her permission but it felt wrong, her not bringing it up.

His gaze fell back on the bookshelf behind Teresa and noted the contents. Old school textbooks, healing books oddly focused on hearing in particular, muggle books about something called BSL of all things, and lots and lots of children's books.

"Do you work with children?" Godric asked as he considered the sheer amount of children material for an old widow with only him for a grandchild.

She jerked her gaze up from the picture of all the dead Bargeworthys. Her eyes widened and she sputtered out, "I–I–uh–"

The entry door swung open as if to answer his question for her. A woman called out, "We're home!"

Teresa's expression dropped as a boy and girl rushed in with grins Godric recognized from his own face. The boy had started waving in excitement before he processed Godric's presence and stilled. The girl stared wide-eyed at him for a second before she turned to Teresa, lifted her hand, and waved her pointer finger in a circle.

Godric sprang to his feet and slammed the chair accidentally against the wall as a much older-looking Jane Bargeworthy pushed the entry door open.

"Right," croaked Godric as all the insecurities from the past ten years rushed through him. He grabbed Sally's satchel and his hat as he stumbled away from the chair and Teresa Bargeworthy, "I get it. Thanks for humoring me."

"Nev–"

He bolted past the two kids and pushed past Jane. Godric didn't really recall how he made it through the maze of stairs and out to Diagon Alley. He knew he ran but he couldn't recall the details of his rush. By the time he calmed and slowed down, he was at the crossroads between Hound & Quail and Mother's Little Munchkin Playdates.

A shuddered breath escaped him. A shout of his name drew his attention back the way he had come. Professor Snape scowled further back in the street. Godric stared for a long incredulous second before he turned and ran around the corner. He stuffed his hat back on once he was out of the professor's sight. Then he skidded into the door for Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment and stepped in.

Professor Snape swept past with a furious expression. Godric watched the crowd as he vaguely glanced at the things on display by the window. Minutes passed and no Bargeworthy appeared.

He shouldn't have expected his grandmother or aunt to bother. He was just a stranger to them. (Maybe if he repeated it enough times, the ache in his chest would fade away.)

"You going to buy something, lad?"

Godric jerked his head up and stared at the shopkeeper before his gaze fell onto a stack of school satchels. He left a few minutes later with a bag of his own to use, though it was tucked away within Sally's for the moment.

Thoughts danced through his mind as adrenaline and panic faded away. Most emotions he pushed away or tried because he wasn't worthless and he had family in Sally and it was fine. Perfectly fine.

It was just his other grandmother not wanting him. It wasn't a big deal. (Two grandmothers not wanting him wasn't a sign. It wasn't. He had Sally.)

Salazar would say they didn't deserve him and he should listen to his internal Sally in this case but it was fucking hard. Salazar had died and left him before. He had had his sisters, parents, cousins, Helga, Rowena, and everyone. This time he only had Sally.

And people actively planned to kill him. Again.

Godric rubbed roughly across his face and then continued to wander as he struggled with his thoughts. He didn't feel ready to return to the manor. Eventually, he slowed to a stop and realized as he stared at a window displaying dirigible plum plants that he had been headed here all along.

There was possible family here—if she'd have him.

The Dirigible Plum Cafe was still open but looked deserted. He pushed the door open and swept in, gaze searching out the redhead his House magick sang was family. He didn't know what he was going to do but at the moment he just needed to feel that again—the possibility of it all.

A voice snarled out from somewhere in the back, "Leave my daughter alone!"

His desperate thoughts were swept away by the sharp clarity of a veteran warrior about to knowingly walk into a fight. He stalked through the front room, gaze swept over the place as he headed further in. All chairs were empty. Nothing was disturbed.—Which was hopefully a good sign.

Nothing was amiss in the main area. Noise filtered in from the kitchen.

The kitchen door swung back and hit the wall as he stalked through. Some type of conversation cut off at the sound. Nimue Weasley, a redheaded man she was clearly related to, and Arcturus and Cassiopeia Black stood in a circle in the center of the little kitchen. Some uncooked food and pottery lay scattered across the floor.

"What are you doing?" demanded the redheaded man in understandable confusion.

Godric blinked as he recalled his diminutive size and age, and offered vaguely, "Came for a very early dinner," before his gaze sharpened over at the two Blacks, "Overheard something unpleasant. Came to investigate it."

"Miss Weasley," Cassiopeia stated with a far too pleased smile directed at him, "Is the squib woman we wish to involve in our agreement with…Pater Slytherin."

Pater Black snapped his sharp gaze to his cousin. "Cassie!"

"Slytherin!?" hissed the male Weasley as he backed up and pulled Nimue behind him, lifting his wand defensively. "You-Know-Who can't have my daughter!"

Godric frowned at Cassiopeia and Pater Black as he pulled his hat off. "Pater Slytherin isn't here but I doubt he'd appreciate you trying to force her involvement."

Nimue's father spluttered, "You–you-re…What the bleeding hell is happening here? Blacks, Slytherins, and now a disowned fucking Longbottom?"

Both Blacks' expressions slipped into slight, very similar, grimaces before they schooled the expressions into, also similar, blank looks of superiority.

"We aren't forcing her to do anything," cooed Cassiopeia as she offered a sweet smile, "We only wanted to tell her our offer in full–"

Nimue's father snarled, "I told you to leave her be!"

The redheaded woman in question frowned between them all.

Godric sighed and stated, "Right. Nimue, do you know why Pater Black came to you? No?" At her head shake, he pushed on instead of allowing her father time to process things, glad Sally had shown him the contract since the breakfast with Cassiopeia, "They are looking for a woman to carry the heir to House Black. The kid will take on the Black name. Sal…Pater Slytherin—who is not this dark lord—will complete a ritual that will impregnate the woman with Sirius Black's kid without having to fuck him. Pater Black determined that a squib would be the best option. Why? you'd have to ask him."

Pater Black sputtered, "I-what? It was Slytherin who said squibs weren't squibs!"

"Ah…yes he'd say that. All the squibs we've met have magic so as far as we can tell it's true," Godric agreed tiredly, "They just can't reach their magic."

"I…" Nimue stepped around her father and clenched her hands against herself in a blatant sign of nerves as she stared at him. "I'm not a squib?"

Godric huffed out, "Highly unlikely."

Her blue gaze widened before tears swam in them. "I'm not?"

"Uh, well…no, it is extremely unlikely." Godric repeated, uncomfortable at the possible tears directed at him when he hadn't done anything to deserve them. He added quickly, "I mean, you're here! Have you used the floo network on your own before or come in from the muggle side?"

"Yes," she stated slowly, confused by the question and entirely overwhelmed.

"Means you're a witch," Godric stated, tone softening with a kind note. "You just can't reach your magic properly at the moment."

Nimue made a strained noise and her father grasped her shoulder in support as she swayed. The man frowned over at Godric in clear disbelief and outrage at the claims but was reluctant to burst his daughter's hope in front of them all. Godric couldn't really blame the man, he was visible eleven after all. It was probably concerning that Nimue just believed him like this in the first place.

Exhaustion throbbed through him as the last of his latest burst of adrenaline faded. He ached from the strange ritual surrounding his sword and from the emotional whiplash he'd been through. Dealing with the Blacks was the last thing he wanted but he wasn't about to leave his distant relative to their mechanisms either. (Godric had the sudden realization that this had to be how Sally felt most of the time. Being eleven was an utter pain when trying to deal with shit.)

"Perhaps," Pater Black stated, his own tone losing its combative edge, "we could continue our discussion while seated?"

"There isn't anything to discuss with you," grumbled the redheaded man.

Nimue gave a slightly hysterical laugh and shook her head at her father. She countered his claim as she explained, "The cook and–and–and–" She waved her hands out encompassing. "–everyone is going to be coming in any time now. And I want to know–knoweverything."

"Let us reconvene across the street then," Cassiopeia announced with a pleased clap of her hands, "We will have a private room in the Black Dog Tavern."

The male Weasley flushed red, straightened in outrage, and snapped, "There isn't going to be a discussion! My daughter isn't a-a whore!"

Nimue grasped her father's arm. He fell silent and looked back at her, his scowl softening. The father-daughter pair stared at each other, clearly silently communicating.

She looked over at Cassiopeia and Arcturus Black. "You want me to conceive a baby for your House?"

"Yes," the Black Pater stated.

Her father spoke up at the sight of Nimue actually considering the request, "Nimue–"

"I'm a grown woman, dad," she stated firmly but not unkindly at her concerned father before she looked at the group.

Godric frowned as he watched the waitress. Nimue didn't look entirely prepared for this conversation, still clearly processing the idea that she was not a squib. He understood the enormity of that fact.

She continued to speak anyway, "I'm not saying I agree to this by followin–"

"It's a better deal than you'll ever get," sniffed Cassiopeia, "It's not like your family gives a damn about you." The older woman glanced over the two redheads' worn clothing and the little kitchen Nimue must help in. It was a sharp contrast to Cassiopeia's luxurious robes and jewels.

Neither Nimue nor her father seemed able to counter that statement. Nimue shrank in discomfort and her father clench his jaw and hands in frustration.

Godric snarled out, before he could think better of his words, "Nimue Weasley is of the House of Gryffindor and under my protection and care."

Stunned silence revibrated. He paused too as he realized what he said. He couldn't actually claim her just like that. Nimue needed to have a say in her life where she clearly struggled with a father desperate to protect her due to her squib status and House Black desperately ready to force her into a corner for their own gain.

She was family though. He wasn't going to take it back.

No one deserved to be unwanted.

"If she accepts the House," Godric added, firmly tapping down any further reaction beyond the faint flush he could feel spread across his cheeks, "that is."

The Black and Weasley pairs looked utterly gobsmacked by that statement.

He stepped into the center of the small room, over a few discarded vegetables, and held out his hands to Nimue Weasley. She closed her mouth with a click of her teeth and visibly swallowed as she stared at him. The poor woman looked dazed from everything that had happened but she stepped forward to meet him.

Nimue took his hands and Godric called out, consciously remembering to speak modern English instead of Latin, which he had learned this simple ritual in. Nimue needed to understand what he was saying after all. The intent mattered far more than the language used but all the participants needed to know what was said. "I, Godric Neville Albert Gryffindor, First and Present Pater of House Gryffindor, offer you a seat at my hearth, a cloak in my colors, and the name of my House."

A swirl of gold and red and oranges, like fire burning bright and vibrant, swirled about him until it settled at his side and into the golden House lion with his deep green oaken-leafed crown. The powerful beast watched Nimue intently before it leaned forward and nudged her with its nose. The fiery magick of House Gryffindor flickered across her and slipped under her skin, giving her a taste of the House magicks she would be given.

Tears slid down her face as she struggled to clear her throat. "I-I, Ni-Ni–" She swallowed and took a sharp breath as she visibly tried to steady herself. Finally, she said, each word voiced with a slow purpose to avoid stuttering them, "I, Nimue Clementine Weasley, wouldgladly si-sit at your hearth, wear your colors, and bear the name of your House."

"Then I name thee Nimue Clementine Godiva Weasley Gryffindor," Godric announced.

The lion lifted his head and roared into the air before it lunged. Nimue jerked back and her father cried out. The House magick flared gold and red, like flames as it dissolved from the shape of a lion and rushed into the woman. Her hands flew from his and to her chest as she pressed her eyes shut. The magick danced across her skin as it sunk into her.

Everyone stood in silence for a long moment as they watched the results of this ritual. The House magicks had accepted her. There was no further proof needed. Nimue Gryffindor was a witch.

Then her eyes popped open and snapped down to stare at him as she blurted out, "Godric Gryffindor!?"

He grinned at her as he answered, "Indeed, cousin."

A woman's voice cried out from somewhere in the front of the store, "Nimue, everything alright? Why aren't the tables set? I think I heard a–some beast!"

Nimue lost her dazed look and instead looked more than a little worried. "That's my manager."

Cassiopeia flicked her wand out and cast a spell on the broken pottery. As the pottery reformed, Nimue's father cast his own spell on the spilled food and vanished the mess. Another spell from the Black woman had the pottery floated back where it must have belonged.

Godric caught the door as it flew open and placed his hat back on his head. A woman stepped in with a worried frown in place but her expression dropped to confusion at the sight of so many people in the kitchen.

"Nimue, what's going on?"

His newly claimed cousin stuttered, "I-I-uh…"

"She wasn't feeling well and sent a message to her father, poor dear." Cassiopeia stated dramatically, "We were meeting with Romulus when the message came and well…here we are."

"Oh." the manager said before jerking her gaze to Nimue. "You're sick? Take the evening off. I'll floo Eric."

"Thank you," muttered Nimue even as her father started to usher her out of the kitchen. The Blacks followed closely behind, clearly worried Romulus would apparate away with Nimue the instant he could.

The Gryffindor founder rolled his eyes as he followed them all out. He slipped around the Blacks once they were outside and took Nimue's hand, tucked her gentlemanlike to his side. Then he guided her across the way to the Black Dog Tavern. He didn't bother looking back. He was confident the adults would follow.

Cassiopeia caught on quickly enough and took charge of speaking with the hostess once they entered. It was only a few minutes before they were all directed up the stairs to the same private banquet hall as the last time Godric and Sally had been here. The table was a long rectangle with three seats on each side this time.

The Blacks took one side and Godric claimed a seat by Nimue on the other side. His claiming her of House Gryffindor meant House Black was making a deal with House Gryffindor. It was no longer a House ganging up on an unfavored member of a Familia. If Nimue wanted, he could negotiate for her. At the very least he would do so alongside her as House Gryffindor had a part to play in this. She would dictate how much of a part though.

Nimue's father ignored his seat and walked around to hold out a hand to Godric. "Thank you…Merlin, thank you." The redheaded man shook Godric's hand enthusiastically. "I–magical. My girl is a witch! And a Gryffindor! I–I-" He shook his head and cleared his throat before visibly forcing the emotion back. Romulus took his seat, and added, "Right, I mean…I'm Romulus Weasley. We haven't properly been introduced but–" He looked back at Godric. "–I…Merlin, I just…thank you."

"Well," Pater Black stated, tone slightly dry, "Proper introductions are warranted from our side, aren't they? I am Arcturus Black, Pater of House Black, and seated member of the Council. This-" He waved a hand at Cassiopeia. "-is my cousin Cassiopeia Black." Then he nodded at Godric as he added, "And as the ritual certified, this is one of the founders of Hogwarts, Godric Gryffindor, Pater of House Gryffindor, and also somehow a seated member of the Council."

Romulus stared at Arcturus for a long moment before he stated, "Right…So not named after the Gryffindor founder?" Romulus's voice gained a hint of hysteria.

"No," Godric answered, "We've been reincarnated with our past memories fully intact. Well, Sally and I. Rowena and Helga are still in the afterlife… And no, Salazar isn't an evil 'dark lord' wizard that wants to destroy all muggles, muggleborns, or the like. Right now he's off playing the part of an eleven-year-old at a holiday party."

Godric glanced down at the table and found a menu now on top of his plate, ignoring the sputtering, inarticulate, response from Romulus. A quiet fell over the table as the others followed his gaze and then turned to their own menus.

A few minutes later, Cassiopeia mussed out as she tapped her wand to her menu. "I've ordered a lovely bottle of merlot from that Veela vineyard in Bordeaux. Absolutely fantastic with game, if you'd like a recommendation on the food." She paused and glanced to Godric with an embarrassed twist to her smile, "I'm afraid we cannot ignore age limits even if–well..."

Godric shrugged, uncomfortably reminded of one issue he hadn't talked to Sally about. He didn't really want to talk about it but eventually, it would come up. It had been a long time since Helga locked him out of the bottlery. He didn't want to find out how he did with alcohol now. Salazar was alive so it shouldn't be an issue but it wasn't a logical problem. The lack of craving for such oblivion was a good sign at least. His brother bonds weren't an endlessly dead hole within him. He had his other half still. It should be fine but he didn't want to test that fact.

"There is Butterbeer," Romulus offered up in a rush as he leaned forward to look past Nimue to Godric, helplessly eager to please and not entirely sure how to go about it, "It's slightly alcoholic."

"Ah," Godric swallowed and shook his head as he said, "I rather prefer water for now. Don't worry about me."

A quiet fell over the table as everyone selected their food. Godric shifted in his seat so he could see the others at the table more easily. Arcturus sat directly across from Nimue and Cassiopeia sat across from Romulus. Godric wouldn't have minded an end seat to see everyone easier but politics made the linear breakdown logical.

Once the menus popped out of existence everyone looked at each other. Nimue pulled her napkin from the utensils and laid it on her lap. Romulus shifted about until some thought had him glaring across the table at Pater Black. Both Blacks looked cool and calm if not a little pleased at the turn of events. Afternoon sunlight spilled across them all from teh windows overlooking the busy courtyard and section of Diagon Alley. Godric spotted more than a few children enjoying icecream even though it was another cold winter day.

Nimue was the one to finally speak up, drawing Godric's gaze.

"Is there…" She frowned down at her knife and made a little annoyed noise as she nudged it across the table before she dropped her hands into her lap and looked up properly. "Did Pater Gryffindor leave out anything in what you are looking for?"

Pater Black relaxed back in his seat and shook his head as he answered, "The only piece missing that pertains to you is the fact that Pater Slytherin is able to enhance the ritual to increase the potential for multiples. I would like to go that route but it is your health, your body, and so your decision on if we do so."

"So, you want me to carry a baby or two and then give them up to be raised by who? House elves?" Nimue asked slowly, looking intently at Arcturus.

Godric could spy her twisting the napkin in her lap. He kept quiet, content for her to direct the conversation. Eventually, he would have to speak up for House Gryffindor but she was the one affected most and likely had the most questions.

"Yes," Arcturus said before he frowned slightly, "I would not have the heir entirely raised by House elves but they would be involved. It is entirely normal to do amongst Houses of any standing."

Silence fell as Nimue gave a short, sharp nod, though she was frowning down at her place setting once more.

Godric hesitated before he reached out and touched her arm. She looked sharply at him. With her attention, he asked softly, "Would you like to speak to your father or me privately? To talk through what you're thinking?"

She considered the offer for a moment before she shook her head. "I know what I want…Its–" Her shoulders slumped and a blush spread as she quieted to almost a whisper. "–A bit of a dream. I just–I've already gotten more than I had ever hoped for happen today…None of this can be for real."

"Well dear," Cassiopeia said as filled wine glasses popped into existence on the table and she picked up hers, "today's your lucky day because all of this is very real."

Romulus made an annoyed noise at her words and turned in his chair to clasp Nimue's fidgeting hands in her lap as he said softly, "This is negotiations. State what you want as the starting point. Ask for the stars and maybe you'll get it or maybe we'll find a middle ground that everyone agrees to or maybe we'll walk away from the deal with House Black. There's no harm in asking for what you want."

"We won't be leaving without signing an agreement to keep mum over what is discussed here at the very least. I'm quite certain Pater Slytherin will find a way to make my life miserable if I let anyone leave with the knowledge of their return unguarded," Arcturus added with a put-upon expression, "What you tell us cannot be used against you, at least not easily."

Godric frowned at the "not easily" part but didn't interrupt. Arcturus wasn't wrong that Sally would make the man's life miserable. He'd see what he could do to tighten it up to not possible at all if he had the chance. The whole situation with Hannah didn't need to happen again.

Nimue nodded and straightened in her seat before she stated, "I have always wanted a family but I refused to walk away from my home, my culture, my life.–" She glanced over at her father before she looked back to the Pater Black. "–You want children to carry on the House of Black. I refuse to give up any child of mine." Pater Black scowled at her words. Nimue continued, tone growing firmer as no one interrupted her, "But it's an undeniable fact that no one will believe that I am not a squib and I have no idea how to navigate the muggle world, let alone date a muggle. I'll carry your heir if I remain their mother and not only help raise them but have the decision and legal power of a mother within a House. No overstepping everything I decide on their lives in the name of you being Pater Black unless it is truly a case of House Magicks and House survival issues."

"To give you the full legal right as a mother to the children, you would have to marry my incarcerated grandson," Arcturus stated flatly, lips twisted down in a displeased frown.

"I'm of House Gryffindor," Nimue answered with a stubborn tilt of her head, "I am of the appropriate station for your heir–"

Godric snorted. The others at the table shot him startled looks so he explained, "He's a criminal. You are above him and worthy of far more than a mass murderer."

Baskets of little warm loaves and freshly churned butter that smelled of cinnamon and honey popped into existence at the table.

Arcturus Black huffed and arms folded across his chest as he glared at Godric. "Not making this simple for my deal with Pater Slytherin, are you?"

He didn't wait for Godric to respond. Arcturus nodded at Nimue as he said, "Fine, you will marry Sirius and have all the rights of a mother. You'll be the future Lady Black and regent of the children if I and Cassiopeia pass away before the heir comes of age. That means you'll have some learning to do with us and there won't be any complaints about it." The old man paused to flash an annoyed look at Godric, clearly blaming him for all this before he added, "But you'll allow the increased fertility aspect of the ritual on each attempt made and you will give House Black at least two boys, meaning if you have a boy and girl, you'll have to go through the ritual however many times needed to have those boys."

Romulus snorted. "Weasleys nearly always have boys."

"And yet you sired two girls," Arcturus snapped back.

"I agree," Nimue countered, interrupting any possible argument, "but with exceptions in place to allow me to terminate or not include the optional part of the ritual if my life is endangered. And I want to have the right to complete the ritual at least twice to try to have a girl if I want. I also want stipulations in the marriage that allows me to live as I wish and control where my children live. Nothing should be in the contract about satisfying my husband's needs or anything like that."

"He's incarcerated," scoffed Arcturus, "Pray tell when is he going to be able to demand that? It's not like you'll see him outside of the rituals. We don't even have to tell him he's bloody married. I doubt he even needs to be awake for the ritual to be completed."

Cassiopeia lightly smacked Arcturus's arm. "It's always best to be through. I think covering all the bases is better than leaving any possible hole in the contract. And if I had been forced to marry, I would have insisted on leaving such a disgusting thing out myself. Better to have the legal right to deny a fool when you inevitably have to go to court for killing said fool. To be able to point out that he broke a contract is simpler than dealing with claims of self-defense when witnesses are highly unlikely."

Her gaze sharpened back to Nimue as Arcturus sighed but nodded in agreement. "The children must have astronomy-related names as it honors House Black's magicks and is tradition. The heir and spare will be named by Pater Black, though you may give them their middle names."

"Agreeable," Godric stated after Nimue nodded, "but this does beg a question on what House Gryffindor receives. You gain a future for House Black but take Nimue from House Gryffindor when the House has just gained her."

"And she will have an influence on where the House goes politically!" snapped Arcturus, "House Gryffindor has that influence through her. And we're already paying for the school tuition–"

"That's an agreement between you and Pater Slytherin," countered Godric. "This is a marriage contract."

Nimue made a strangled noise at the description. Her father whispered something to her that seemed to help settle her nerves and pulled a smile from her.

"Usually it would be House Gryffindor offering a dowry," Arcturus countered sharply in turn.

Godric shrugged. "You're the one that needs Nimue. I just gained a cousin, I've no interest in losing her already."

Cassiopeia reached out and grasped Arcturus's arm, dragging the scowling man's attention to her. The two whispered. The lack of sound indicated a silencing charm had been cast.

Plates filled with food popped into existence before them. The conversation stalled as everyone focused on their dinners. Godric couldn't help the pleased noise as he tried the venison. Calling this place a tavern seemed a little inaccurate. The breakfast food had been a simple affair. Dinner was a feast of flavor and very well cooked.

After a decent amount of time, Arcturus reopened the negotiations with a simple offer. "House Black will give Nimue a house of her choice to live in, after the first few years staying at the manor with me to learn the ropes and have our full support raising the children. She will be given a vault with a monetary value of 10,000 galleons and a yearly transfer of a further 4000 galleons which House Black will have no claim over during her life(1). She may use the money as she wishes as long as it isn't used for political purposes counter to House Black's goals. The family financial advisor will both be available for her and will do yearly audits of expenditures to make certain this simple restriction is kept. Trust vaults will be set up for each child and may be utilized by her for their personal expenses. In other words, House Black will support her and her children where House Gryffindor could be considered liable."

Godric raised an eyebrow but couldn't disagree that there was some legal liability to House Gryffindor for supporting all House members—something he only vaguely recalled Fitzwilliam explain years ago. So technically it was a very nice offer since dowries would usually include both the home and money to support the woman so she wasn't a financial burden to the House she was marrying into.

"I–" Nimue swallowed and took a deep breath, looking a little overwhelmed once more. Her father didn't look much better off.

"It's acceptable," Godric answered for her with a kind smile before he turned thoughtful. Godric offered the one item he knew Sally hadn't already agreed to in his own contract but would be desirable. "House Gryffindor would give House Black the beginnings of a druids grove as a way of a dowry if House Slytherin is willing to help and House Black is willing to wait a few years. I will have to confirm this is possible later though. If it is not, I'll have to give something else."

"It is an acceptable dowry," Arcturus stated quickly and his expression visibly struggled to stay neutral, "Though learning how to use the grove would be of use also."

"And that is an aspect Nimue may learn now that she's a Gryffindor," Godric answered slowly, "It'll depend upon what aspects of the House magicks she leans towards but if she would like, she could learn at least the basics–"

Arcturus leaned forward as he stated in a rush, "Does that include the purification ritual? She's to learn how to do that. That's part of the agreement."

Godric blinked a few times at the verbal whiplash. He hadn't expected such interest.

"I can do that," Nimue stated for everyone, "I'd like to learn all the magic I can, even a ritual—as long as it's nothing bad."

"It's not," Godric answered even as he processed Arcturus's excitement over the idea. "But not everyone has the skill to do it. We will have to see how you do." He looked back to Arcturus and said firmly, "The contract cannot be written with assumptions that she will successfully learn it but we can certainly try."

Arcturus relaxed and nodded. "Of course, I'll have my notary write it up with that in mind and you'll be able to request changes before we sign anything."

Godric nodded pleased enough at that.

After another moment of quiet, Cassiopeia announced, "If that's everything, this calls for dessert!"

oooP5ooo

(Harry)

A card exploded in Anthony's face. Blaise smirked over at the scowling Ravenclaw while Zacharias snorted in amusement. Salazar considered the remaining rows of cards, particularly the ones glowing near him before he took his guess and successfully matched a glowing one with another card no one had flipped over yet. The glow faded away from the card as he set it with its match.

Giggles from one of the groups of girls filtered through to them. Blaise wrinkled his nose and glanced at Salazar who was very firmly not looking over to see if he could tell the reason for such sounds. Miles looked vaguely amused by it all. Zacharias and Anthony were far less restrained and glanced over only for both to frown in confusion. More than likely there was no obvious reason for the giggles.

Salazar was fairly certain, due to years of watching from the sidelines, that the girls were giggling over one of the boys. He hoped dearly, and to every god out there, that he wasn't the boy they were giggling over.

Knocking at the ajar door drew everyone's attention. A man with rich blue robes that were as airy and light as the Patil twins' clothing smiled in at them. His dark gaze glanced over them all before pausing on Salazar. A faint considering frown flickered for a second, leaving Salazar wondering if the man also felt the possibilities from any magick he had access to. Salazar certainly did. He didn't even need to look for any hint of a snake on the man's clothing to sense it.

"Father!" squeaked Parvarti, interrupting any possibility of a confrontation.

The man's gaze snapped to his daughter and he smiled. "Time to go, girls," he explained. His voice didn't have the same lit to it as his daughters. He had lived outside the Isles for his childhood, speaking another language than English. Salazar wondered if Padma and Parvarit knew the language also. (And if he could learn it.)

The twins collected their things and filed out with warm goodbyes to everyone. As they did Florean stepped in. Salazar stared at the historian's festive wear. It included a porcupine.

"Miles," Florean called out, "Imelda, time t–oh, Harry. Did you get everything figured out?"

"Yes, sir," Salazar answered as he ignored the curious gazes from everyone.

"Good, good. Stop by again before the end of the Holiday if you can."

"Of course, it would be a travesty to skip out on your ice cream." Salazar agreed with a grin. Florean grinned back even as Miles and Imelda both looked exasperated.

Salazar rose as the Fortescues left. "I think I'll head out also. Thank you for the invite, Susan."

"Thanks for coming," Susan answered from her spot on one of the couches, "see you tomorrow!"

Zacharias lit up. "You're coming to the Abbott party tomorrow?–" His grin widened at Salazar's nod. "–Excellent. It'll be grand, always is…though I've heard that the Moons and Wrixons might have a heavier hand on the atmosphere this year." He looked over to Hannah questioningly.

Hannah shrugged. "I have no clue. I think the Ollivanders gave us the location actually."

"Huh."

"Yes, well," Salazar interrupted as he paused at the doorway, "I'll be there." Various calls of goodbyes followed him out the door and into a group of adults.

The Hufflepuff Mater blinked at him in surprise before she smiled as she realized who he was. "Mr. Potter, I hope you've had a good holiday."

"Mater, I have. And you?" he offered with a polite nod while he properly took her in. The last time he had met her he hadn't known she was Helga's descendent. There were hints of his dear friend in the woman. And Godric had been correct, he was almost as tall as her. Still, her daughter—particularly Lucasta—reminded him of Helga more.

She waved to a dark-haired man at her side, "This is my husband Octavius." Octavius offered his hand and Salazar shook it while he tried not to look too amused by the group of adults taking a moment to meet him, an eleven-year-old. Then she waved at a couple at her side. "And my cousin Albert Abbott and Morgan–"

"Oh, we met actually," Morgan stated.

Albert startled and paused in offering his hand. "What?"

Salazar turned to Morgan properly and forced his expression to stay neutral as he recognized her. This was Arcturus's grandaughter, Hannah's mother. She was the redhead that rushed in at the end of the argument with Pater Black the other day.

Morgan frowned at him. "We met at Pater Black's estate. Along with the disowned boy. Neville."

Worry and curiosity wared on more than one adult's face. Salazar nixed any possible digging the lot could try by nodding to them all and said, "We did, didn't we?" He smiled disarmingly. "You caught us as we were headed out. I actually need to head out now, too."

Most of them nodded along but Octavius spoke up as Salazar maneuvered around the group. "Let me walk you to the floo, son."

Salazar offered quickly, "You needn't–"

"I insist," he said firmly before he nodded to the other adults, "It'll be but a moment."

The man guided him through the hallway and most of the still-packed ballroom before he spoke up. "You need to be careful with what animal motifs you wear."

Salazar stopped. "Wha–"

"I'm sure you're just supporting your school house with the colors and snake scales," Octavius said as he turned back to Salazar and lightly tapped Salazar's shoulder in emphasis as he leaned in, "but it is also the color of House Slytherin which is now active. Best to avoid implying allegiance to someone you of all people would prefer to avoid."

"I'm not–"

He clasped Salazar's shoulder properly, and explained quietly but firmly over Salazar's attempted deflection, "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was known as the Heir of Slytherin, son. The Pater of Slytherin is unlikely to be your friend." He hesitated before he added, voice dropping even closer to a whisper. "There are rumors that the dark lord was only temporarily vanquished by you. It is entirely possible he had returned and returned as Pater Slytherin. Be careful and keep your eyes out for anything odd. We're here if you need any help."

Salazar reluctantly nodded along, part insulted by the implied dark nature of his House and part appreciative of meeting an adult that tried to help an eleven-year-old orphan stay safe. Mater Hufflepuff seemed to have chosen well in a husband. Salazar also guessed, perhaps a little biased, that the man had been sorted into Slytherin too. No one else seemed to have noticed the snake scales in the silver of his outfit.

"I'll keep it in mind." Salazar finally answered.

Octavius nodded, pleased enough. The older man led Salazar the rest of the way without offering up more advice. There was a line for the floo but it moved quickly and soon Salazar offered goodbyes to the man and said the Gryffindor manor's password as quietly as he dared as he flooed away. Still, he couldn't help but notice the slight frown that appeared on Octavius just as the floo activated and spun him through the suffocating spiral of the floo network.

Salazar stumbled out with a frown of his own. Of all the Houses that might know the Gryffindor manor's passcode, Hufflepuff was at the very top but Octavius wasn't a Hufflepuff by blood nor was he old enough to know the Truleys who seemed to be the last to have lived in the manor. At the same time, Griffin's Throne was as unsubtle a passcode as could be.

Godric was waiting for him, pacing in a circle in the first sitting room of the manor.

"Is something the matter?"

His brother paused, sent a complicated look his way, made a strangled sound, and returned to pacing the room. Salazar's eyebrows slowly rose as he witness this response. He glanced over the room. Most of the furniture was still covered by sheets and preservation magic. There was no clue about what had happened.

Godric finally spoke up as Salazar debated on leaving him to his pacing. "I..I need you to sit down."

Salazar turned back to his brother and looked him over. Godric had his hands behind his back and he stood as if about to pronounce a battle plan.

He sat on the closest chair. Its sheet sifted and tumbled down around his back.

"I," Godric said before he paused, frowned, and huffed at himself.

"You," Salazar offered, partly in hopes of lightening the mood.

A smile quirked at the corners of Godric's lips before he sighed and his shoulders slumped. "I may have been a little impulsive."

Salazar stared but Godric stopped there, clearly searching for how to say what he needed to. The parselmouth offered as a second attempt at lightening the mood, "Unless you somehow got married to another murderous woman, I'm not entirely sure it warrants this reaction."

"I claimed Nimue Weasley formally as a Gryffindor and then helped make a deal where she's marrying Sirius Black." Godric spouted out.

He blinked—the moment didn't appear to have changed—he blinked once more and then said all he could think to, "What?"

"She's now Nimue Weasley Gryffindor. She will be the future Lady Black."

Salazar asked once more, with more feeling, "What?"

"I said I was impulsive–"

"You met her once. Once!" Salazar rose and flicked his hands out to emphasize that point. "I know her better than you do and she's nice enough, has good taste in novels, but to claim her as family?!"

Godric didn't respond for a long moment. Then he pulled out and offered a folded piece of parchment. Salazar unfolded it and read the short note from Teresa Bargeworthy.

He looked up at his brother and asked, "Did you meet her today?"

The blond gave a short jerk of his head as a yes, his jaw clenched and eyes shiny.

Salazar pressed his lips together as he wonder at how many family members did he have to destroy the lives of before they found one that wasn't an utter ass to Godric.

"She tried to claim there was just her and my aunt left of the Bargeworthys…but then Jane came and brought two kids with her. They're about our age, physically." Godric stated, tone flat as if he was holding back his emotions. "I…well…I didn't stick around to hear excuses…ended up at the cafe. The Blacks were there trying to talk with Nimue about having kids for the House and I stepped in…claimed her."

He handed the letter back to Godric before he decided, "Then we get to know Nimue properly…At least we have an idea of what was going on with her when we talked to her about her relations to other Weasleys. She's considered a squib."

Godric relaxed at his acceptance and added, "We're finalizing the contract tomorrow, signing everything. Nimue will be over here before that. You can figure out the wood for her part of the ritual then and we can get to know her a little….and, uh…I offered to grow a druids grove on a Black property for the dowry."

"Are you now?"

The blond huffed in exacerbated annoyance as he said, "Well I had hoped you might be willing to help out. Nimue and I need to see what we can learn anyhow."

Salazar smiled at that. "I suppose we can do that. Though Nimue will have to wait until she can do magic at all." Salazar looked curiously at his brother, head tilting as he considered him. "You, on the other hand…you don't need to wait."

oooPooo

1. This amount was estimated in comparison to some monetary estimates I made a while ago. For instance, Arthur is a pretty high-level ministry person, even if his position seems scoffed over. I estimated a yearly salary of 5963g 5s for him. Hogwarts in this story is not entirely free and it's not cheap. There's a ministry-funded budget that can make some schools free for children but not Hogwarts. That budget can be part of the payment to Hogwarts and is larger proportionately for the number of children. So Arthur is "poor" mostly due to the number of children he has and using most of his salary on giving them a Hogwarts education.

The 10,000 galleons and a yearly transfer of a further 4000 galleons is a huge amount of money for a squib waitress. Even more so with the fact that it's for her and there will be trust money to pay for everything for her children.

Octavius was autocorrected to Octavio in a previous chapter or two. That will be fixed over the course of this month.