Authors' Note:

Hello hello! How are you feeling? Surely better now that a new chapter is out, right? (sorry, that was super lame.)

This chapter features a flashback from the past, which is not the same as a scene taking place in the past like the part with Helga you read on chapter 3. What happens in the past takes place 'at the same time' as the events in present Hogwarts. The flashbacks are events that already happened before the situation in past Hogwarts.

Hope this explanation is clear, but if you get confused and want indications such as 'flashback', 'past Hogwarts' or 'present Hogwarts', feel free to tell us and we'll adjust.

Also, the flashbacks aren't chronological, unless they happen in the same chapter.

Enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: The universe and characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling.

Betas: Witchmeister and thepumat, much appreciated.

Chapter 5

Another impact shook Hogwarts' very walls but neither the adults nor the smaller ones paid it any attention, they had no time for that after all. When an attack came, each resident of the castle were assigned a set of duties. The absent mindedness of one of them could easily set in motion a chain of disasters. For all of them. Sal made sure they understood that before each admittance. Belief that the others would do their best was of the utmost importance in their lives in the castle.

They trusted the warders, they had done a great job hiding their position and protecting them until now, rightfully earned, and it worked. They trusted the cooks, they had given their everything to make sure everyone was fed, even in small quantities, and thus, in their dedication the system worked. They trusted the Vanguard, for its members knew the outside world better than anyone else and risked their lives every day to save the innocents and fight against the Darkness, who warranted it, and thus, everything sustained.

At least, it was supposed to. But the thing with that kind of organisation was that information had to be shared or the very roots of what they had created could come and strangle them any time. Rumours, half-heard conversations and gossip, that kind of foolishness could easily run rampant if news weren't shared with everyone. Information was power and even if power led to hierarchy, that wasn't what they were aiming for. Respect and trust was. They were at war, they couldn't afford any weaknesses. The enemy would have no pity on them. Though, they were human, with or without magic. Any mistake could be made, could be fixed, could be forgiven, forgotten. They certainly could. But not all of them.

Rowena had a headache. Looking at maps, she was trying to understand how they could have missed the clues on the last outpost attack. Two weeks ago, she had sent men to guard a post near the borders of the battlefield, where rations and medical supplies were provided by a neutral party. The mission was supposed to be simple enough and with the least amount of danger, but after a few hours, a messenger came back to ask for reinforcement, as the enemy had been waiting there for them. Rowena, in a calm response, had ordered a general to create a party and join the first group to aid them. However, he came back with meagre supplies and only half the men and women sent there, the rest having been either killed or captured by the enemy, for what purpose, that was yet to be understood.

But the whole tragedy didn't make any sense. The outpost was situated in such a place that they couldn't have been taken by surprise. No enemy could have hidden its approach and there were always a few on careful watch. Of course, no such person came back, so none know exactly what happened.

Since then, anger has started to brew in their soldiers' ranks (and she didn't like calling them that, but that's what they were, that's what they all had to become to survive). They were more determined than ever to make sure Hogwarts was secure enough. Which… was not bad in a sense, but not great either. Some were making rash decisions at key moments and they had started to take out their rage on the wrong targets.

It was getting out of hand, and she worried. It had happened before, of course, especially at the beginning of the situation, but this time seemed different.

The enemy appeared to know about them, yet they had succeeded in hiding their location for years—years—and nothing had changed, so how? Their tactics, being one step ahead of them when they least expected it, was disconcerting.

The infighting, which one would think normal under those circumstances, could easily escalate to violence. It went as far as their soldiers using complex runes and fighting styles, exhausting themselves faster. Rowena was trying to put all the pieces together, and the full picture was starting to look like something she didn't even want to conceive. But if it turned out to be true, they would all be in a greater danger than casually roaming outside their walls when you knew what was lurking there.

Despite their great teams and the efficiency in their role system, Rowena couldn't help the doubts plaguing her mind. She knew better than to blindly trust her allies and instead trust her own instincts in case of doubt. What she needed right now was to determine whether or not her doubts were legiticompanion. Perhaps, she was just needlessly worrying. Yet knowing herself as well as she did, it was highly improbable that she was wrong. Time for rest could wait, as she was determined to prove this inclination.

Her one and only confidante in this mission would be Helga, whom Rowena trusted completely. She kept her cool in dire situations. Rowena knew Helga would be able to protect the castle and its inhabitants with clear judgement.

She trusted Godric and Sal, of course she did. But she needed a logical kind of thinking, and Helga had the habit of making her see things she hadn't even considered previously. She had her own rationality and they matched really well in that aspect.

If she was right. If they had a… a… a spy in their ranks… But who? Who would work for the Darkness willingly? It didn't make sense. None of the recent happenings did… and the madness of everything was starting to cling badly to her.

She had to remember to keep calm. To focus. She wouldn't let the enemy take her. She couldn't.

.

.

The clamour didn't die down, no matter how much Minerva tried to silence and settle the restless students.

Helena and the Bloody Baron watched from a distance, shocked to have seen their family and friends respectively in such a state of hopelessness. They were aware of their presence in the castle of course, but they had no idea Sal had been injured. And it had seemed serious by the looks of it.

Moreover, it was Godric's state which worried them the most. His behaviour a few minutes prior had been… unusual to say the least. Godric wasn't one to be this emotional. He was always grounded, logical and never let his feelings overwhelm him. But of course, and they shared a troubled glance, it wouldn't be the first time he made an exception concerning one of his loved ones… He was flawed as much as them and they were painfully aware of it.

Now, even the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was trying to contain the students' fit, despite the other teachers' best efforts to try and tell her to stay out of it.

It was quite a funny show, to be fair, seeing the woman dressed in pink flushing a similar shade when she was refused the right to help calm the situation. She tried nonetheless to do something when yet another explosion was heard from the Slytherin table followed by laughter from the troublemakers and screams from the younger students.

Ignoring the students and the teachers running around, with a silent agreement, they flew out of the Great Hall, intending to follow the red head and the unconscious blond to the Hospital Wing.

The Baron hadn't ever imagined he would see their faces again after… everything. Yet, even if Helena had this opportunity—because, of course, she'd been informed of her mother's little project and the unattended conclusion—at the present time, she was feeling as if someone was crushing her chest, and her fading breath rapidly turned to gasps.

The Bloody Baron watched her internal struggle, biting his lips worryingly without making a step in her direction. He never dared, he never would, and it was all for the best. He had known her for so many years, after all, and even when they were alive he had known better than to interrupt her train of thoughts when she was like this.

The one time he had made the mistake, he paid the price severely. So, he simply followed her, one step behind, on their way to the Hospital Wing.

Flowing as fast as they dared, they stopped after passing through yet another doorway leading to the higher stairways. Waiting there in a semicircle were most of the ghosts residing on Hogwarts grounds. They stared at them without uttering a word for a long time, as Helena quickly started to lose patience.

"Let us through," she hissed between her teeth, the sound making the weaker ones flinch. She smiled at that, knowing she would get her way if she kept pushing. She kept her voice low as she spoke. "I suggest you move aside before I really get angry. And trust that none of you have seen me on a very bad day yet."

Some of them gulped and one stepped forward. Bravery or foolishness, none could tell.

"We wish not to bother you, my Lady. We…" The ghost looked around for a second, before lowering his eyes once more. "We only want to make sure you're feeling alright."

Her eyes widened, before her face turned emotionless once more. She grimaced as a sharp pain started clenching her heart.

She closed her eyes and controlled her voice.

"I am quite alright," she said, not above a whisper. "Now if you please, I'd like to tend to my friends."

She parted through the crowd easily, followed by her partner, as always. He'd always been there for her, and she was ever so grateful to him, although she never cared to admit it aloud. She would have to properly thank him for his loyalty, one day. He'd no doubt be embarrassed and flail his hands around, telling her he merely did his job. Sometimes, she swore he was more Hufflepuff than Slytherin.

Casting these thoughts aside, she quickened her pace as she knew they were approaching the Hospital Wing. But right before she floated through the doors, new thoughts and feelings rushed to her.

She felt like her heart was going to explode and she breathed shakily, wrapping her arms around herself. She had no right to feel this insecure. But she did. She was. Because the men behind these doors were family and she had longed for something akin to that for so many years she couldn't remember when exactly she'd lost it in the first place. Was it when she went away with the diadem? Before? Certainly before… She had been a disgraceful child back then…

The Bloody Baron—such a terrible name for someone akin to his character—stepped ahead and turned towards her, a kind smile on his freckled face.

"Shall we?"

She smiled back and after taking several deep, calming breaths, finally stepped through the doors and into the infirmary. Immediately, she was struck with raised voices—one in particular which she hadn't heard in a very long time—, seemingly caught in an argument she hadn't been able to hear from the other side of the doors. This time, she didn't allow herself to panic and stepped forward, wanting, needing to see what was happening. The few seconds it should have taken to reach the occupied bed seemed to stretch into minutes, and Helena felt herself almost breaking into a sweat.

But that was ridiculous, of course, as ghosts couldn't manifest any physical changes.

As she approached, the voices seemed to get louder, as if cushioned by the distance, somehow.

Soon enough, she reached the bed on which Sal was lying, one of his hands clasped in Uncle Ric's very tightly. The nature of the argument became very apparent.

.

.

As they walked across the numerous hallways—which could have been avoided if they had taken one of the hidden passages; seriously how dumb did they think they were, living in such a big castle without making sure they could get from one side to the other quickly enough—he could feel the presence of a man he could not remember the name of. He drew his wand and kept it in hand all the way through, reacting accordingly to the threat presented.

Every one of his muscles were tense. He hated that. He hated being in a compromised situation. Because regardless of what he'd said earlier, he knew he was trapped. And he'd done this to himself all alone. Because he was an idiot who couldn't read more than a chapter of a potions' book before getting bored.

His fists tightened around Sal—he had refused to let go of him, much to the displeasure of everyone involved—and the Healer turned a careful eye in his direction.

They entered a room where several beds were lined up.

It was the exact same they escaped from a few days earlier. He eyed it and frowned slightly when he caught a thin crack in the wall, but his attention turned swiftly to Sal once more when he started violently shaking.

He tightened his grip around him as he feared his friend was going to retch, but Sal did no such thing. Instead, his head just dropped on his shoulder and his breathing became more erratic. Panicked, Godric turned his head towards the Healer, his eyes glaring at her to do something to ease his pain.

"Just put him there," she ordered, pointing her wand towards a bed. He did as told while she went into a room adjacent to this one and came back a few seconds later with a set of potions in hand. "Since you didn't complete the full treatment last time, your friend will have to expel all the poison at once, and not in the nicest way."

She flicked her wand at him, nodding sternly at something she saw and handed Godric a first potion.

He uncorked the vial and tipped Sal's head forward, but his lips remained sealed, his teeth gritting as he struggled to contain the pain.

"Come on, Sal," he murmured, encouraging his companion to drink the liquid. "You need to drink this, you'll feel better after." He tried to keep his own voice steady, as to not share his panic with the one who needed it the least.

Sal shook his head weakly, opening his eyes in slits to stare at Ric, conveying his message. "Trust me," Godic said, trying to convey his own emotions to Sal through their connection. He really needed him to drink the potion.

The battle lasted only a few seconds as a new fit of pain submerged Sal, who opened his mouth for the briefest instant, and Godric jumped on the occasion to make the liquid flow in his throat. That was one small victory he was sure to pay later on, but at the moment, all Godric cared about was to save his life. It was short lived, however, as the Healer handed him a second potion and Sal turned away from him, or tried to. His hand was grabbed by the red-headed man who placed it on his own widely beating heart and Sal became suddenly very still. His magic roared in his veins but he didn't force it into Sal's body. Morgana knew what effect that could have on his friend when his illness was that bad. It didn't help that much last time. He wasn't ready to try it out.

"Can you feel It?" Godric whispered and the three other ones stared at them in confusion.

"I can't," Sal replied after a moment, his eyes closing in concentration. After a few seconds, he started to relax slightly.

"You're good?" Godric asked, his frown vanishing.

"I'm good," Sal said, sharing a meaningful glance with his companion.

Godric bit his lower lip and tilted his head at the Healer who took advantage of the newly returned peace to cast a few spells and made her patient drink the potion Severus had just handed her after the last doomed one fell.

"This is no dream," Sal stated thoughtfully.

"No," Ric answered him, "I'm afraid it is not." He looked at his friend with tired eyes and rubbed slow circles on his wrist, checking his pulse-point. "But you're gonna be better soon, I promise."

They shared a weak smile, but their relief was cut short when the hand of the Healer landed on Godric's shoulder.

"Oh, it is not over yet, young man," she announced in a warning tone. "The potions we gave you are to help expel the poison, and to help deal with the pain that is to come. But I'm afraid that with the amount of poison still present in your veins, the pain will remain excruciating."

"What?" Godric hissed at her with a tone he hoped was menacing despite the fact that he wanted to sleep more than anything at the moment.

"The poison," the man in black robes—what was his name again?—grumbled, "is very potent. In all my years, I can't say I've come across something quite like that."

Godric blanched. He looked down on his friend, his eyes lingering on his pale face and enclosed his shaky hands on Sal's. His gaze, turned sharper, rose on the other man, sceptical.

"I beg your pardon?" His voice turned sour. "My friend right there is dying from said poison, and all you find to do is marvel in its potency?"

Godric found it incredible how many crazy people now resided in this castle. First an old man who obviously took pleasure in seeing them hide and suffer, then a young boy who held the strongest grudges and finally a dirty-haired wizard fascinated by how fast a potion could kill someone. He laughed bitterly.

"I don't know what happened for you all to make fun of such a situation, but I can assure you I found no joy in forcing unknown potions in my friend's throat. Thus, you should pray your remedy won't worsen his condition or you'll learn who you have crossed exactly," he boomed, his magic flowing and twisting in the air, tangling his red mane even further. The man tensed, taking one step backwards, his wand still in hand, seemingly struggling not to point it in his direction.

"Enough!"

The sudden roar from the Healer surprised the both of them, and Godric took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves.

"You are in a hospital, and there is a patient who still needs medical attention. If you are unable to keep quiet I'd advise you to step outside, regardless of who you are."

If the situation had been any different, Godric would have applauded her. In the meantime, he did his best to hold his tongue while Sal recovered.

A cough from his companion made him turn his attention on Sal.

A thin bloodied smile on his face and eyes closed, he spoke, "Ro wouldn't have...said it better." He grimaced, a bonny hand making its way to his head. "What...happened?"

Godric paled even more.

"You don't remember?" He asked, his voice hollowed and his lips pursed.

"How did we get here? When..?" he asked while taking the glass of water Godric had summoned for him. He took a sip from it.

Godric's eyes turned towards the floor.

"Two days… that was two days ago…"

Sal frowned, his lips blood red.

"What… what are you talking about?" he asked, a trail of blood leaking from the corners of his mouth and his breath wheezing.

Godric kept his head down, his dirty red locks were covering his eyes. The tiredness started to show serious effects on his mind and body. The lion took a breath before smoothing his features. Then, he rose. He began pacing, thinking of a smooth way to explain the situation to his companion. He scratched at his nonexistent beard (he didn't like wearing one, as it made him look old—Sal thought so too). Taking another deep breath before letting it out very slowly, he said "I failed you Sal…"

"What are you—" Sal grunted, "—talking about?" he repeated.

Thick beads of sweat formed on his forehead and he bit his already injured lip, a weak cry escaping. Soon enough, his eyes rolled backwards and he passed out.

Red-eyed, Godric took a shaky breath.

"Is this… supposed to happen?" he asked.

The other two shared a worried glance, not saying a word, and the Healer started feverishly casting spells at the sick man, intently studying the answers they were giving her.

Something in Godric snapped, his face turned grim and he threw a punch in the nearest wall, denting it with wild surging of magic. He took a few deep breaths, leaning his forehead on top of the newly-made hole and whispered, "Sorry."

He closed his eyes and stayed like that for what felt like hours. So did the hole. Godric couldn't feel the castle's magic repairing itself, and that was definitely not normal. Now that he thought about it calmly, the window he had shattered a couple days ago was still lying in pieces on the floor. Something was wrong and he was itching to know what.

He sighed, wiped his face with the palm of his hand and waved the other towards the glass shards, ordering them to fix themselves. They obeyed and a few seconds later, the window was back to its original state.

He heard a small gasp from behind him but paid it no mind.

"What's happening to you, dear friend," he murmured and that's when he noticed the silence that had fallen on the room. He blinked several times before turning.

"Mister… ah, I didn't catch your name, I think," the Healer tried, her fingers trembling, clearly exhausted by her spell-casting.

He gazed at her a few seconds before reaching the bed again in one stride, taking Sal's hand in his own and stroking his palm.

"It's Godric."

"Godric?" She raised a brow. "Well, Mister Godric, I've stabilised your… friend's condition for now. However, as the poison involved is unknown to myself and to our potions master, I cannot guarantee his safety as of yet. What we gave him should help a bit for now. In the meantime, we'll do further research on the composition of the poison. It seems some of the ingredients don't exist anymore to my knowledge." She eyed him suspiciously and he held her gaze without wavering.

"Are you telling me you administered him a remedy without knowing whether or not it would actually work?" His voice was sharp, crushing what remained of his newly-regained self-control. "I could have done that myself with the books I gathered from the Library if I wanted to! I trusted you to do a better job than me, but if it turns out you are incompetent, I—"

"Uncle Godric? Is that you?"

He turned to see the evanescent form of Helena—Helena!—and then his mask shattered altogether. A gasp, two more and he rose on shaky legs. She was straight away at his side.

"Uncle, don't push yourself too hard. Rest, I'm here, I'm not going anywhere," she said with a fond tone. She pushed lightly on his shoulders—and the contact seemed to brighten her spectral body—and he fell on the bed once more. She smiled sweetly (Rowena's smile, a little crooked but so very warm, and it had been too long…).

"Hely…" He whispered in disbelief.