Authors' Note:

Hello! I opened my window, and softly whispered out, "How are you?"

So, we're still alive, and most definitely not abandoning this fic! Sorry it took us so long, but we had a lot of things to decide for the future of the plot and that took a while. Plus we're also very busy IRL, so please don't blame us too much.

We're back with a fresh chapter, new reveals and still the same good amount of humour we both love.

READ ME: (no, seriously, read)

We also changed and added a few things in previous chapters, but here are the major ones you need to know for a better understanding of what's to come if you don't want to read everything again for the changes. (If you're a new reader, you've already read everything the way we intend, so you have nothing to worry about.)

Chapter 2: Godric is shown to be more paranoid than originally about the castle.
We also changed the way he realises he and Salazar have travelled to the future.
Chapter 3: Removed the passage where the castle erased Draco's memories regarding him finding the room hiding Godric and Salazar.
Changed the name Salazar into Godric in the passage where Helga uses a rune to help with an injured woman and compares her skills in runic arts to Godric's.

On a more positive note, we finally know where we're going with this fic, so no major future changes should happen. (as of 05/04/2022 update.)

As usual, we hope you enjoy this chapter!

PS: We read your comments and appreciate them all!

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

Betas: thepumat, our chapters would look ridiculously wild without your precious help.

Chapter 6

The trees were moaning as if an unending funeral ceremony was unfolding upon them. Winters were always long, dark and harsh there. Nonetheless, rising among a sea of hills and forest, Hogwart stood tall and defiant. Untamed.

The courtyard was as busy as ever. People from all over the place, speaking different tongues, bearers of different cultures and heritages were quietly fulfilling their daily duty. Hooves thundered down the path and they stepped aside to let the riders pass, nodding and bowing at the riders and receiving weary smiles in return.

The rider at the head of the troops didn't take any time to pay his respects to the inhabitants and went on horse straight into the castle. Galloping, he went up the stairs and through the courtyard with haste. He didn't dismount before finding himself in the Great Hall, scaring a few poor children on his way.

He reached an alcove and stopped where he stood before the extended legs of Helga who was reading some kind of strange stuff with lots of diagrams. With her knee-long brown boots laying on a nearby wooden chest, she was blocking the way to the door.

He gazed at her impatiently.

"Did you know this place was once a Dragon's lair?"

"Very nice, but I care not for such things," the rider said impatiently. "Let me through."

"Good morning to you too, Dagon," Helga said, nose still down and eyes still scanning her charts. She made no move to let him pass, much to his displeasure. "Dragons are fascinating creatures, don't you think? They used to roam freely but then men, women and children wandered their lands and many moved to the mountains. Some moved to caves near or even underwater."

"Fascinating indeed, but I don't have time for the trivia, Helga. I bring news."

Helga hummed dispassionately, tugging at the edge of the pages. Then, she raised her eyes and caught his own.

"Do you think we could have a Dragon in the lake?" She asked, lifting an eyebrow and her eyes sparkling with interest.

Dagon sighed and put a hand on his face.

"Helga, I need to see Rowena right now. Be a dear and let me through."

He stopped the blade aiming for his throat with one of his own before it could pierce the skin.

Helga smiled, sweet and joyous, and tilted her head.

"Rowena will not be disturbed as of now. Be a dear and come back later."

"It's an urgent matter. It's about Helena and Baron."

Understanding filled Helga's traits as she paled ever so slightly, the hand holding the blade trembling and showing her uneasiness.

"Something happened," she said, frowning. He inclined his head, his dark hair sliding on his shoulder—it wasn't tied up as it would normally be. "You won't tell me, will you?"

"It is far too important news to be delivered to anybody but the primary recipient herself, I'm afraid." He shook his head with a pained expression. "And… you would do me a kindness if you let me tell her in person. I know Rowena. She wouldn't have it any other way."

Helga glared daggers at him with pursed lips as she reluctantly removed the blade from the place it was, still sitting at his throat.

She turned around to open the door, letting Dagon through after her to Rowena. As it turned out, she was pacing in her office, seemingly disturbed about something.

"Rowena," Dagon said as he entered the room, "I bring news about your daughter and Baron."

She turned to him, composing herself and sitting down at her desk. She crossed her still trembling hands on top of it.

"I am listening."

"I just came back from a long journey."

"Indeed, I can see that. What I do not see however is my daughter. Where is she? Where is Helena?" Rowena asked, worried, as she twisted her fingers gently.

Dagon winced and took the teapot to refill Rowena's cup. He put it in her hands and patted her shoulder. She accepted it with a nod.

"I searched far and wide for Helena. She's clever, as you know, but I am the one who taught her most of her tricks, thus it wasn't long before I understood where she intended to go, after her theft. However, the truth of her treachery was worse than we fathomed.

"The truth? Speak plainly or don't speak at all. I'll go there myself if need be," she scowled.

"And I don't doubt it. Please, accept my apologies, the last thing I want is to upset you further. In any case, I have to admit I'm not too surprised by that Snake's betrayal. But Helena? My sweet, lovely Helena?"

"Baron betrayed us? How so? How can Helena be involved in such atrocity?"

Helga and Rowena shared a glance, and something akin to fear crossed their features.

"How are they faring?"

"My Lady Helga, this betrayal is still too fresh in my mind to be spoken of without being shaken by the memory. I shall tell you as best I can nonetheless." He took a deep breath as Rowena motionned for him to go on. "When I got there, I found your daughter, Helena, laying bloodied on the ground."

Dagon heard two gasps in the room. One was from Rowena, who visibly covered her mouth with both hands, eyes watering and almost dropping her tea on the floor. The other one came from Helga, who had been staying behind him and was now striding the room to comfort her friend. She was rubbing her hand on Rowena's back soothingly, although her face was also torn in a pained expression.

"No…" Rowena said in a tiny voice, her lower lip quivering. "How can this be?" she asked as she raised her head to look at Dagon, a single tear escaping and falling slowly down her cheek.

"Oh, no, dear. Please don't cry for I will be unable to hold back myself. Rowena. Rowena, I know." He took her hand and pressed it to his quavering heart. "I am deeply sorry to be the bearer of such terrible news. Unfortunately, it was already too late when I arrived. Helena wasn't breathing anymore. I confronted Baron about the scene, and when he brought the sword to his chest, I was unable to save him. The Enemy was upon us and the diadem was nowhere near their bodies, so it must have been hidden already. There is no doubt in my mind that Baron killed Helena, although I don't know why he would do such a thing."

Rowena closed her eyes, her features twisting in pain.

"This cannot be… Where did you find them?" Helga uttered, shaking her head.

"Albania, my Lady."

"Why? Why would Baron have done this horrendous crime? It makes no sense, he was…"

"In love?" Dagon interrupted. "Yes. Some kind of love turned into an obsession. A hideous and crude thing, certainly." He exhaled slowly. "My heart broke from witnessing such cruelty. For she was taken from me as she was from you and I can't forgive such cowardice. Who will be responsible for this loss? Who must meet the sharp edge of my blade!"

"Enough! I say it is enough. Begone before words fail me. I have much respect for your brother and I would not want to upset him. Take no offence, for it is grief talking instead of reason, but Rowena needs time to herself, this much I know. Clear the room and wait for me in the North Tower. I won't be long."

Dragon put a hand to his heart and bowed, his face frowning with barely concealed sorrow.

"As you please. My Ladies."

.

.

The students were pressed against the doors and against each other in an attempt to hear what was happening inside the Hospital Wing. Of course, they couldn't hear anything but their own speculative whispers.

"Shhh! Be quiet, I can't hear anything," scowled Hermione to some second years giggling right behind her. She placed her ear back on the wood, trying to make out what was going on inside.

Nothing.

Then, it all clicked in her brain. Of course! A charm must have been placed so that nothing occuring inside could be heard from the outside. Dumbledore must have known they wouldn't just stay in the Great Hall and eat their dinner like good students, and would instead give in to their curiosity and follow the strangers here. More often than not, the old headmaster proved scary through his wit and cleverness.

Hermione was about to give up this plan—after all, there was no point in staying there if they couldn't figure out who exactly the strangers were—when a group near the back grew impatient and started pushing forwards. The students shouted in annoyance as they were squeezed between one another, forced to step further into the gathering. Soon, Harry, Ron and Hermione were stuck completely against the door and had no other choice but to open it in order to breathe again.

What resulted from that could have been obvious to the most oblivious child: they face-planted onto the Hospital's cold tiled-floor and right in front of the dumbfounded teachers, mediwitch and strangers they were trying to identify. Hermione's face flushed a furious red as she mumbled excuses and stood up. Ron's face quickly became as bright as his hair and he looked down the whole time he stood back to his feet. Harry just had eyes as big as an owl's and he was trying to look past Dumbledore's shoulder in order to try and catch a glimpse of a face or anything to help him see who was laying down on the bed.

"Potter," came Snape's drawly voice as his eyes laid on Harry. He looked at Ron and Hermione. "And his little friends." A few other students peeked inside the room in curiosity while a large portion of them had scurried away when the doors had opened. "May I know what you expect to achieve by standing there?"

"It's okay, Severus," interjected Dumbledore, placing a hand in front of the potions master as though he could prevent the man from deducting any points by doing so.

Hermione sighed in relief and bowed her head a little towards the headmaster who smiled gently in return.

Only when she heard Harry gasping did she completely turn her attention onto the strangers. One was laid under a white blanket, as pale as the sheet. The other one, with his crimson mane styled in complicated braids, was nearly on the floor. Mrs. Pomfrey was trying to hold him up but he kept slipping out of her grasp.

"What have you done," Harry growled towards Snape and Hermione put a hand around his wrist.

Snape's eyes narrowed and he wore a nasty scowl.

"Harry, my boy. Severus has done nothing wrong. He is no enemy of yours, you should be well aware of that by now."

"Yeah, right," Harry mumbled, but still loud enough for Hermione to hear. She had to agree with him on that; the teacher had been onto them ever since they got into the school. And even if his intentions weren't bad, it was still suspicious and she knew he was hiding something. From them, and perhaps even from Dumbledore himself. No matter how much the old headmaster trusted him, there would always be something fishy about the head of Slytherin.

"Now," Dumbledore resumed as though Harry had said nothing. "Perhaps it would be best if you went back to your common room, the lot of you. I have, after all, explicitly delivered the message to let us—" he waved a hand between himself, Snape and Pomfrey. "—handle this matter. Trust that further information will be delivered to all students, and teachers, once we know more, and if it is safe to do so."

The silence following his declaration was broken by a loud thud as the body of the red-headed finally crashed on the floor.

"Well," Pomfrey said, somewhat disinterested. "That's as far down as he'll go."

Ron squeaked when a ghost passed angrily through him.

"Uncle!"

The ghost—a young, pale woman—reached for the man on the floor but before she could touch him, another ghost appeared and pulled her back gently.

"It's of no use," the ghost said.

Bewildered, Ron glanced at Hermione and Harry who didn't seem to understand better.

A sigh echoed.

"It's true. This man is suffering from a mental breakdown. I've seen it once before. His mind walls are gone, that's the reason he collapsed. As of yet, we can't do anything about it. He'll come back to himself sooner or later. Though, I can't say in what state of mind exactly…"

One of the ghosts let out a horrified gasp and covered her mouth with her hands. The other wrapped her in his arms and ran a calming hand along her trembling back.

"Do you know when he'll wake up?" Hermione couldn't help herself asking. "I've heard and read of worse cases in which the suffering people have gone completely mad. Do you think he'll be okay? And won't you have to tighten security around him? What about the other man? Did he also have a breakdown?"

Hermione felt strong but gentle hands wrap around her shoulders and the words stopped falling out of her mouth at Hogwarts Express speed. She blushed a little before clearing her throat, straightening her back and wiping her moist hands on her skirt. More than being nervous, she hated being embarrassed.

"Calm down, Miss Granger," said the headmaster in a soothing tone. "As I have said, more than once now, more details will be provided later. For now, I strongly advise you to leave this room. You never know what could happen. You yourself have read the worst cases of mental breakdowns; you should know magical incidents have happened in most of them. Isn't that right, Severus?"

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Yes… I suppose a relapse cannot be ruled out," he growled.

"In any case, there are far too many people in this room. Out with you lot! Out. Out!" Pomfrey growled with a fist raised.

The trio reluctantly obeyed, fearing the mediwitch's wrath and left the room with one last glance towards the strangers. The heavy doors closed behind them as soon as they stepped outside. Hermione vowed to get to the bottom of this, whether Dumbledore told them everything or not.

.

.

Godric's breath became erratic and his hands gripped the bedsheet, trying to ground himself. Breathe in, breathe out. He closed his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth as his magic started to swirl around him.

"Uncle, listen to me, hear my voice…"

A gasp.

Impossible. Impossible.

She's dead. It's been months!

How?

"Uncle…"

He curled in on himself, trying to fight the pain. In his heart, in his head, in his core. How could this be happening?

"Listen…"

A bolt of pain pierced his brain. He clutched his head, his braids falling apart like a blood curtain around him.

"I… I can't help you. You have to focus, Uncle."

This voice again. What was it? Focusing? He couldn't… he couldn't. For the very first time he couldn't focus and it was scaring him more than anything. He had to. For… for whom?

The voices around him started mingling with one another. Everything became hazy.

"...away! Step back, STEP BACK!" a male voice shouted.

He uttered a scream. It was so painful.

And then, everything stopped and he stayed frozen, his eyes wide, and felt more exposed than he ever remembered being. The breath rushed out of his lungs.

Fear took him and he finally gave in to the darkness.

.

.

McGonagall sighed on his right, exhausted, but Albus's mind was far from her own worries. Troubled, he glanced discreetly around him. The quietness and the lack of motion around him was eerie. He had to admit that never once in his life in Hogwarts had he seen so many paintings empty of their occupants.

It wasn't unusual to find portraits spending time in other frames, but this was just too suspicious. The landscapes were empty and the houses painted for the larger families were undoubtedly full, a face poking every so often through a window.

With all the recent events happening, it was easy to conclude that the portraits' and ghosts' behaviours were linked to the arrival of the two strangers… who might not quite be strangers, after all.

One of them had introduced himself as Godric, and there were very few wizards in the world to have ever bore the name. Of course, it raised more than a few questions. Especially after the name—nickname?—of the second one was revealed.

Godric and Sal it was, then. What were the odds?

As Albus frowned, McGonagall kept on rambling.

When he thought about it, he couldn't say that he had already seen an official painting of the Founders. Indeed, there were some done after their deaths based on personal diaries and bits of information which had survived the passage of time. But nothing like the numerous paintings that were hung in his office. In itself, it could be seen as an oddity, but as of today, they still didn't know much about these times—the Founders'. A lot had been lost due to wars, spells gone wrong and fires. So much loss…

And then there was what The Grey Lady had said towards the redheaded. She had called him "Uncle", and though Albus had not been aware of such a link between them in the stories he'd read, it only served to confirm what had been nagging at him since names had been placed to accompany the strangers' faces. Several questions remained unanswered and he fully intended to question the men further once they came to. Why were they here, why in this timeline? And why were they so wary towards him? After all, Albus was merely protecting their school, not attacking it. Those were among the most pressing matters Albus had in mind and Merlin knew he wouldn't let them, Founders or not, roam free within these walls until he received the answers he seeked.

He sighed and turned to McGonagall, but right when he opened his mouth, an image flashed in his mind and he promptly stood up and started for a secret passage behind a portrait. A brisk knock was heard against his heavy doors and they were pushed open by a pink gloved hand. Dolores Umbridge emerged, her face a darker shade than her clothes and hair tangled as though she had been caught in a hurricane. He only heard her screech as the portrait had been promptly closed behind him.

"Minerva," she still said in a hurried but somewhat polite tone. "I demand to speak with Albus this instant."

Albus could hear the mockery in the Head of Gryffindor as she replied. "I'm so sorry, but he left shortly before you came in." It was, technically, the truth, and Albus couldn't keep the smile from his lips.

"How? I saw no one on my way here, and he could only have gone the one path leading to this office."

"Our Headmaster is quite enigmatic. He keeps secrets even from me."

"I see. And where did he go? I still need to speak with him."

"He didn't say. As I already told you, Dolores," she insisted on the name, as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had previously done, "there are things even I don't know about him."

Umbridge turned red with anger.

"Indeed," she spat. "Well, know that the Minister will hear about this, Minerva. Change is strongly needed here, at Hogwarts. If this foolishness carries on, I'll be forced to quickly take matters in hand."

A chuckle echoed to their right and Umbridge turned her head sharply, her eyes narrowing. In the painting hung up on the wall, there was what appeared to be a farmer with a big hat and wide eyes.

Slowly, as if unsure, he put a hand to his mouth and coughed weakly.

Umbridge mumbled.

"An inspection of every living being of this castle will be done this week. And I expect to see the… ruffians who crashed upon us this evening. And please, do remove this awful painting! The poor taste of the furniture here upsets me greatly."

"We'll see what we can do about that," Minerva replied in a half-sarcastic tone only Albus recognised. He wanted to laugh again but simply walked away from the scene and further into his secret passage.

.

.

A warning to all.

In light of recent events, it is of the utmost importance to discuss our future actions regarding It. A meeting will be held at the end of the week for this purpose. In the meantime, the preventive measures of our predecessors will have to be activated at once. Regardless to say, your presence and actions on the matter are required and compulsory, as you well know.

K. S.

.

.

There was tea on the desk but a slight tension in the air. Rowena took a scorching sip that somewhat soothed her aching throat. Helga glared at her cup. Her blood was boiling.

"I'm so sorry, Rowena. It appears to be far worse than we predicted. Since when does—"

"And we notice it only now." Rowena stated, a crooked smile on her face.

Helga smiled in sympathy. She reached forward and took her friend's hand in hers, making Rowena jump slightly at the sudden contact. They locked eyes, Rowena fighting unshed tears. Helga's heart ached.

"Helena was not supposed to die. How can this be? How could he lie to my face? I never knew him to be a liar, Helga. He was not. He is not."

Helga nodded slowly. "Indeed. Such behaviour doesn't suit him."

"So what happened, then? What changed?" A tear escaped, unbidden. Rowena wiped it angrily. She took another sip of her tea. "Why would he…" Her shoulders shook and a sob wracked her throat. She looked Helga straight in the eyes. "He told us he was worried for Helena and Baron before going out after them, he didn't lie then. I know it, Helga!"

"How would we know, if he learnt the art of deceiving thusly." She shook her head.

Rowena shook her head, too, disbelieving. Her already dishevelled hair became a more tangled mess.

"I don't know, Helga, I just don't know what to think anymore!" She grabbed a portion of her hair and pulled at it. Her eyes had gone wide with an almost crazy look in them.

Helga took her hands into her own to stop her from tearing her own hair and rested her forehead on Rowena's. "You are allowed to cry. It's fine to be confused. We all are. Dagon wasn't supposed to lie. Wasn't supposed to say all those things. Wasn't supposed to betray us." Her breath caught in her throat.

Rowena's lips opened.

"He loves Helena like his own daughter. And I love him, I do, but how can I accept such cowardice? I can't. He… he killed her. He must have." She choked on her own tears. "Oh, what are we going to tell Godric?"