Chapter Four
oooP1ooo
September 1st dawned warm and dry but overcast with clouds teasing at the possibility of rain. Salazar enjoyed a simple breakfast of roasted nuts and seeds he had collected over the days as he purposely ran out of his purchased food. A mug of mildly sweetened tea finished his morning wake-up.
He reorganized his satchel and placed two books, The Hobbit and An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, in the side pocket for easy access. Various snacks were added along with his favored fountain pen, charmed to refill with ink from the latest inkwell he had opened, and a leather notebook half filled with runic ideas, historical notes, and hundreds of questions yet to be answered.
Salazar paused in his packing as three owls swooped into the grove. His own owl hooted in annoyance from her roost on the oak. Salazar pulled out the needed knuts to pay for the Daily Prophet, Quibbler, and Wizarding World News.
He had subscribed to the three a few days ago. It was a first step towards determining what news he wanted to receive. So far Salazar found the Quibbler amusing enough to keep, the Daily Prophet a distasteful necessity, and the Wizarding World News interesting but biased. He expected to add another newspaper if he could find one to balance out the three he already had.
His owl glided down to her stand as the other owls left. The stand sat just within the main tent beside an old wingback chair he had salvaged from one of the second-hand shops in Diagon Alley. Salazar stared at his owl in amusement. Hedwig, a beautiful snowy owl, hooted in annoyance at him. He settled into the chair at her side and checked the feather-light wooden bracelets he had placed on her. Runic markings were burned into the wood to protect Hedwig and help their communication. A little magic from him would tell her to come or stay away and help her find him if she required the aid.
She tugged at his hair, demanding proper attention. He stroked her chest feathers with a finger before turning towards the pile of papers. Salazar considered the distant pile, left a few feet away, before he concentrated on the top one. The paper slowly rose into the air at his mental command. Telekinesis was one of the simplest and safest skills to learn of the mental arts. He hadn't learned the ability until he had joined the guild, though, back in his twenties.
The paper unrolled in the air. There was no mental strain as he directed it toward him. He smiled as it obeyed with only a slight delay. A little practice and he would be on his way to regaining mastery of the skill. Salazar would go slowly so he didn't strain his childlike mind (He imagined it was still a child's mind—his cognitive abilities and moments of immaturity pointed him towards this belief. He could be wrong and his past memories had forced his mind to fully develop early on but better safe than gain mental damage from impatience and stupidity.)
A mewl drew his gaze from the moving newspaper to another branch of the oak. Omorose watched from there. Salazar rolled his eyes at her but otherwise ignored the kneazle. She was pregnant again and ornery as could be. It was best to let her have her space. If she wanted attention she could climb down and demand it properly.
He pet Hedwig's chest and offered her a few nibbles of treats as the paper reached his other hand. Salazar relaxed back in the old chair, feeling oddly content in his makeshift tent home. The reincarnated man snapped the paper upright, feeling oddly like Uncle Vernon at that moment.
The Daily Prophet had a front page article speculating Harry Potter's Hogwarts house and appearance. They had an actual picture of James and Lily Potter. He did look like their son with the woman's eyes and the man's hair. To his amusement, the article had a sketch of his possible appearance. It wasn't particularly accurate—He had expected something better after the incident with the owl shop.—The article ended with statements from supposed family friends saying Harry would obviously take after his parents in personality and preference.
"They expect I'll follow my parents," he remarked to his familiars and the listening trees, "I'm to be a Gryffindor. Godric would be so proud." He allowed his sarcasm to seep out at the end of his statement.
Bravery, courage, and nerve were fine qualities.(1) Ones best balanced with intellect, wit, hard work, loyalty, cunning, patience, creativity, and resourcefulness. What so many seemed to not realize was that the qualities they, the founders, chose for their apprentices were not qualities a child possessed, per se, but what the child strove to build or needed to build to become a well-rounded adult. These could be the qualities the child desired to have or held in great esteem or which the founders believed they needed. The whole point was to teach the children as much as possible, after all.
Salazar had looked for ambition on top of the desired cunning and resourcefulness because he wanted children that had a direction, a goal they strove to achieve. Without that drive, he had found children lacked discipline. They slipped in their training and fell behind. Salazar had been young too. He hadn't had the patience to deal with such children. Later he developed the ability to care for troublesome children but by then his "desired" qualities had been set and none of the founders had seen any reason to change it. It wasn't like they weren't helping train all the children together anyway.
Salazar shook his head at the gossip rag as he flipped through the rest of the pages. There was nothing else of interest.
Sometime later, the Hogwarts founder dropped the various newspapers into a decomposing pile—fertilizer for later—as his watch vibrated out an alarm. "7:30 am on the dot," muttered the wizard. He looked up at Omorose, "Time to go."
The feline yawned at him, showing all her teeth before she stretched across the large branch and climbed down. Her belly was just starting to grow round with her latest litter.
Salazar turned to Hedwig and stroked the speckled bird's chest as he said, "Off you go then. Feel free to visit in the Great Hall."
Hedwig gave a short bark and took off. Salazar watched the snowy beauty vanish in the dawn's light.
Omorose rubbed against his legs in a circular eight pattern, pulling his emerald gaze from the sky. Salazar set four of his quartz stones at the cardinal positions around his home. Each glowed with the faint golden light of Mother's magic.
He paused in his final motions and looked up at the ancient oak. Salazar walked over to it and pressed his hand against the cracked bark. "I'll return in the summer." A thrum of warmth flowed into his hand in response. His emerald eyes danced with joy at the warm goodbye. He would miss this old grove. "I'll be back." He whispered to each tree as he made the rounds.
Then he picked up his kneazle, which settled onto his shoulders, and activated the quartz-powered ward. A golden sheen flared around his camp—protection from the elements, and bugs and rodents—and left for Kings Cross Station.
oooP2ooo
He dodged through crowds of people, gaze sweeping over the signs for platforms Nine and Ten. The high glass ceiling of the station gleamed as the sun peeked through the clouds for a moment. Mr. Fortescue had reminded him multiple times that the entrance to the Hogwarts Express was through a brick wall between the two platforms.
He brushed a hand over a temple of his glasses as he spied platform nine. Magic rippled out before his gaze. Salazar stopped in surprise, startled when someone brushed against him and moved to a pillar as he took in the huge amount of magic present.
It hadn't crossed his mind that platform 9 3/4th was literally that. The wizarding platform was an actual train platform wrapped in magic. He couldn't see it through the swirling mass of magic, but the area claimed by the magic matched the area of the other platforms. Someone at some point had simply claimed a platform and the non-magicals had "forgotten". The platform's position was away from the station's walls and shops. Very little electrical wiring was set near it—whether by wizard design or because of constant electric outages, Salazar couldn't say.
Salazar walked over to the entrance illusioned into a brick pillar and pressed a hand to the side. Fog flooded his sight. Sound muffled around him and a whisper just beyond understanding traveled past him. The vague impression of a child with a finger to their lips came to him and a blanket wrapped around him. The smell of pending rain filled the air.
The founder blinked rapidly and dropped his hand. The invasion of magic faded from his senses. He glanced down at his palm in confusion. Gaining impressions of magic felt natural, and it often happened without him noticing, but that had been stronger than usual. Salazar couldn't recall receiving such impressions a thousand years ago. It hadn't happened often enough to force the issue but he had spent his first decade away from almost all magic, so it had little reason to occur.
A shudder went through him as a wet nose brushed against his ear.
He pressed a hand to Omorose's head, pushing her face to the side. The magical impressions must have happened in his past life. His memories were decent but were only as good as any old memory was. Some things were forgotten. The constant impressions of magic around him had to be one of those things.
Salazar stepped through the illusioned entrance and shuddered as the fog of hiding magic fell over him for a second. In a blink platform 9 3/4ths appeared before him. The rest of Kings Cross station vanished from view, revealing that the powerful magic wrapping the platform was used on both muggles and magicals.
The platform was mostly empty. There was a row of fireplaces, each large enough to allow an extremely tall human with a child to transport into it, a newspaper stand, a snack bar with sweets and snacks on display, and an area brimming with tornado-like magic under his still active glasses. A woman and child popped into existence in the area.—It was a designated apparition area.
He watched the area in great interest for another few minutes but gleamed no other facts. Apparition sounded like a terribly convenient, uncomfortable form of travel.(2) He very much wanted to learn how to use it but the apparition area only revealed how the tornado of magic seemed to pull any person apparating into the Kings Cross platform to the specified area, depositing them where no one already stood.
Now bored, Salazar deactivated his glasses and turned to the train. The scarlet train seemed strangely magical for such a modern muggle invention. Its vibrant red paint gleamed. His first glance at it, when entering, had revealed the entire thing wrapped in its own magic. Salazar could guess at what some of the enchantments placed onto it were. The most pressing was some form of notice-me-nots so none of the muggles operating Kings Cross or traveling through would notice the train as it took control of the rail and left the protective bubble of hiding magic covering its platform.
It seemed like a large waste of time and magic in his opinion. There were other ways to claim a train and use it to take the children to Hogwarts. They didn't need to tempt fate by using parts of extremely busy muggle buildings. Having their own train station and rail would be much simpler.
The interior wasn't particularly special. There were compartments with blue benches able to hold six children each. A rack overhead was just large enough to hold small traveling bags and paraphernalia. The most interesting part was the enchanted lamps.
Salazar claimed one of the last compartments and watched as all the students trickled in with their parents. To his confusion, they all were rolling trunks to one of the freight boxes. The other freight seemed built for pet cages, not that all the students left their pets there.
A meow drew his attention to the floor. Omorose sat by the door expectantly. Salazar rolled his eyes at her but obediently opened it. Her lion-like tail flicked in thanks as she wandered off to investigate.
Salazar pulled out the Hogwarts requirements letter. There was nothing about a trunk. Apparently, this was something people just knew. He shook his head at that. Why would he get a trunk when his satchel worked far better?
Admittedly, the bag had cost more than he might have paid if he had understood just how much a galleon was worth at the time. The conversion rate between pound and galleon meant nothing to the cost of magical items. He had apparently spent the equivalent of an average six months worth of salary on his bag. He would have to be more careful going forward. There wasn't an infinite amount of money in his vault.(3)
Excitement thrummed through the air as the station grew crowded. The founder watched, silently guessing at the ancestral origins of the various people. So many have moved around the world over the centuries. The most variety in the Isles in his day was the darker hair and tanned skin that came with the Norman invasion. The Vikings and natives had shared an overall lighter tone. Though pieces of what would be considered Italian and Arabic had peeked out at times, a sign of the Roman Empire's old influence and the odd slave brought from the south. It was rare that anyone further South visited and if they did, it was to major ports to sell their goods or as slaves from Viking trading expeditions.(4) Now there were all scopes of humanity heading off to Hogwarts—just as he had seen in Diagon Alley.
It was a wonder that both pleased and concerned the founder. There was a balance that had to be made, one that modern society still struggled with. A unification of traditions and beliefs had to mix with a whirlwind of differences in culture. Salazar was curious how Hogwarts and the general magical society handled the differences. Especially since he had every plan to bring back his druidic traditions.—It would be a waste to not attempt such a revival. There were also important protections that needed to be put back into place if no one had found alternatives for them.
His door flew open. Salazar turned at the noise. A redheaded, freckle-skinned boy stood awkwardly in the doorway.
Most likely Viking in origins, Salazar categorized in boredom as he wondered when the train would start moving.
"Everywhere's full," the redhead mumbled, blue eyes peeking out at Salazar, "Can I sit with you?"
Salazar stared at the boy as the redhead fiddled with his shirt. There was no way everything was full but he could understand the desire to ask one person instead of multiple. The child had, undoubtedly, never been alone before. Salazar nodded to the seat in front of him. "If you'd like."
The child relaxed as he settled across from the founder. They stared at each other in awkward silence for the child and mild amusement for the reincarnate. The sliding door banged closed and jolted the redhead into action.
"I'm Ron." The boy flushed vibrant red at the squeak in his voice. He cleared his throat and looked away from Salazar as he added, "Ron Weasley."
"Good meet you," Salazar offered, "You may call me Harry."
"Uh," Ron articulated slowly in confusion, "Harry what?"
Salazar paused at the question. He had hoped to avoid such a question for as long as possible. Excluding the amusing results of Godric's surname, the family name was both odd and obnoxious. Harry and Potter were perfectly ordinary names (in this day and age). Together, they only meant trouble for him.
Feeling resigned that he couldn't avoid it for even a minute with one of his peers, Salazar said, "Potter."
Blue eyes bulged even as the train jerked into motion. Salazar glanced out the window as he overheard some boys shout out about sending a toilet seat to their sister. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Ron's face turn a deeper red. He hadn't thought that possible.
The founder pulled his muggle novel out as he contemplated the possibility that it was common amongst redheads. Godric had never blushed so deeply but perhaps Salazar had failed to embarrass the man enough. It was possible. Unlikely, but possible.
"So…" Ron pulled Salazar's attention from The Hobbit. He asked in a rush, "Doyouhavethescar?"
Salazar raised a brow at the boy even as he mentally separated the slur of sounds into proper words while despairing at the age-old inability of children to enunciate clearly. It was half the battle for children and their foci-based spellcasting.
His good mood suddenly vanished. Salazar didn't particularly want to consider the vile spot on his forehead. He responded short and sharp, "Yes."
The child leaned forward in anticipation but Salazar had no desire to reward such rude behavior and returned to his book. The compartment door slid open and offered an excellent distraction. The redheaded child did turn to regard the newest interruption.
"Have either of you seen a toad?" a female voice asked.
Salazar could see Ron shake his head from the edge of his vision as he turned the page. The muggle's interpretation of trolls was amusing. Maybe he should work out a thief warning spell for his bag similar to the troll's purse. It would be entertaining if nothing else.
"Oh, you're reading The Hobbit?"
Feet shuffled into the compartment and Salazar felt the bench shift as the girl sat at his side. He jerked in surprise when she leaned into his space to see the page he was at. "The trolls—terribly inaccurate depiction of the creatures, isn't it? I looked them up once I found out I had magic.–"
Salazar leaned away from the girl-child as she spewed words at him. He didn't pay any mind to the actual words, too distracted by the fact that she leaned further in, compensating for his own shift.
"–Magically resistant hide that does not turn to stone when sunlight touches them. Ridiculous ideas from a runaway imagination, I suppose. It's ever so exciting that I'll be able to learn all the correct facts about magical creatures and such.–"
He shifted further back and she shifted forward. Again and again, they shuffled across the bench. The dancing shuffle ended when his back hit the compartment wall.
"–Don't you agree? We have so much to learn and catch up with, being muggleborns. I've read through all my school books twice in preparation for the year.–"
All he could see was a curly bush of dark brown hair framing a light olive-skinned face with round brown eyes and large front teeth. If she had been older, he'd assume she was trying to initiate some form of courting. (Gods he hoped the magical oath he had taken as a Hogwarts founder and master still held. It would be the perfect excuse in the future.)
"–Have you?"
Somehow Ron came to his rescue as Salazar found himself stuck on the thought of courting any of these children. He may have shattered his thought processes at the disturbing image which he could only blame on his eleven-year-old form as instinct screamed a most mature 'euwww'. He'll never hear the end of this if his fellow founders were haunting him at the moment. It was the first time he was relieved Godric hadn't answered his call. The man would never let this go if he had witnessed it.
"He's not a muggleborn."
"Oh?" The girl sat back in surprise. Her gaze turned to the redhead. (Salazar only just kept his sigh of relief from escaping loudly.) "But, but the book is a muggle book," she insisted.
It seemed she had her world shattered too. Salazar felt a ridiculous vindication at that fact. Children were going to be the death of him. If not, they would certainly remove any ounce of sanity he had left. It was moments like these that made him second guess his decision to build Hogwarts. (He should look into a different profession this time around. Maybe.)
"I was raised by non-magical...muggle kin." Salazar elaborated helpfully as he regained equilibrium.
Her head whipped about, frizzy curls exploding out about her head. "But then, you still understand," she said, visibly relieved, "I've spent all summer learning everything I could. I purchased multiple supplementary texts to negate the potential handicap I have, being muggleborn. Did you know that the school is the best in Britain and the first that was built for magicals exclusively? All the other magical communities built their schools based upon the excellent scholastic structure of Hogwarts. And I was chosen to go to this school! There is so much to live up to. I must be so far behind! Aren't you worried?"
Brown eyes grew round. She blurted out quickly, cutting off any possible response to her questions. "Oh! I'm Hermione Granger." Salazar and Ron stared at the girl, both still processing her second rant of the day. They were just catching up with her when she frowned and demanded, "And you are?"
"Ron Weasley," the redhead squeaked out. His expression was a mix of apprehension and shock. He clearly had no idea how to handle the girl. Ron likely didn't even understand a quarter of the words she had used.
"A pleasure, I'm sure," she said while her condescension made clear that she didn't believe it a pleasure at all. Ron had not been the boy she had been talking to. The fact that he was the one to answer her question clearly annoyed her.
"He's Harry Potter," Ron added, helpfully cutting off Salazar and obviously oblivious to the girl's disgruntlement with him. Of course, Ron's words also distracted her from that annoyance.
The founder huffed softly as Hermione also cut him off as she demanded loudly, "Are you really? I've read everything about you! You're in A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Notable Wizards of Our Time, Sites of Historical Sorcery, Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century, and Modern Magical History. I–"
"I'm aware," snapped Salazar, cutting off the third rant of the day.
She jumped up and looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I'm supposed to be helping Neville find his toad. Excuse me."
She vanished as quickly as she appeared. The sliding door banged shut after her whirlwind exit. Ron Weasley summed it up appropriately, though crudely. "Bloody hell."
The Hogwarts founder considered the obscenity for a second but decided the situation allowed it. "Indeed," Salazar agreed as he turned back to his book. He had the chance to read a chapter before the door slid open once more. This time he preemptively stopped reading as he was sure he'd only lose his place from being interrupted again.
A blond boy stood before them. On either side of the blond were two larger boys who seemed more like bodyguards than companions. Salazar paid little mind to the two bodyguards. As strange as it was to think an eleven-year-old would have bodyguards, it was the blond boy that caught Salazar's attention.
It might have been his general appearance or the way he held himself but something about the boy reminded Salazar sharply of one of the Norman wizards that had broken trust with them as they started off the war. Salazar frowned as he tried to catch what it was about the blond. The Norman had been named de mala fide by the Council when they had broken that trust.
"Word has it Harry Potter is in this compartment. Is it true?" Salazar's lips thinned as the boy's voice connected the dots. It was strange how some things transcended centuries. This was Armand de mala fide's descendant.
"I suppose that's correct," Salazar agreed as he tried to evaluate the boy. He wasn't Armand. Armand had been dead for hundreds of years. Salazar didn't want to go into this reintroduction to his world, much changed as it was, projecting his disgust onto a child that had done nothing.
The boy straightened. "I'm Malfoy."
Salazar struggled not to raise a brow. It seemed that another epithet had been twisted into a House name as Salazar had no doubt the Norman bastard had his family raised to House status during the expansion of the Wizard's Council. He'd have to thank whoever was responsible for the chosen name. De mala fide, latin for 'of bad faith', had been turned into Malfoy. It was simply poetic.
The newly claimed Malfoy had paused during Salazar's thoughts, clearly looking for some visible reaction. He had gotten one from the redhead, though he didn't notice the glare as he expanded his explanation, "Draco Malfoy. My Fath–"
Ron snorted and blurted out, "D-draco?"
Armand's descendant shifted his gaze to the redhead and a sneer spread. "Think that's funny? Red hair, freckles, and hand-me-down clothing—I don't have to ask who you are. You're a Weasley. The entire family has too many children to afford. My father says you lot have nothing and will amount to nothing." The blond turned back to Salazar. "There are some wizarding families that are bett–"
Ron sprung up intent on punching the blond. Salazar intercepted, flung both boys to either bench in the compartment, closed the door in the faces of the two startled bodyguard-like children, and ordered in a flat tone, "Quiet."
Both boys closed their mouths with twin clicks. They shrank back as Salazar glared at each of them in turn.
"That was rude," he said to Draco. "And that was moronic," he said to Ron before he addressed both boys, "You are welcome to dislike each other. You are welcome to avoid each other. You are not welcome to debase yourselves and the entire room with vulgarities and physical attacks. We will all be at the same school, in many of the same classes for seven years. For the pleasure of that time, both for ourselves and our fellow classmates, you will cease and desist before you have properly begun. Am I understood?"
Salazar stared each of them down until they gave him a nod. Neither looked thrilled, both looked a little shocked. Salazar couldn't find it in himself to care.
"Now, let us start this over." He turned to the door and, after a short pause to remove the simple locking rune he had inlaid with a spark of magic, directed the two bodyguard-like children into seats of their own. "I am Harry Potter."
Salazar nodded to one of the bodyguards. The boy flushed and stuttered out, "I-I'm Greg-Gregory Goyle."
"It's good to meet you, Gregory," Salazar responded before he turned to the other bodyguard boy.
Said child squirmed around on the bench as he said shyly, "I'm Vincent Crabbe."
"Nice to meet you, Vincent," Salazar responded, with Draco quietly repeating his words.
Salazar then turned to Draco. The blond straightened and said politely, "I'm Draco Malfoy."
The founder nodded as he, along with Gregory and Vincent, said, "It's good to meet you, Draco."
Green eyes shifted to the redhead. The reincarnate carefully kept a frown from his face at the sight of the vibrantly red, redhead. The boy was clearly displeased but grounded out, "I'm Ron...Ronald Weasley."
Draco joined Gregory and Vincent in responding with Salazar, "Good to meet you, Ronald."
With that, the compartment fell silent. Salazar broke it a moment later with a short clap of his hands. "Now what did you want to speak to me about, Draco?"
Armand's descendant shifted, embarrassed. "I...simply wished to greet you. See if you had any questions or issues. My father said you've been staying with muggles."
"Ah, thank you," Salazar said with a slight smile as he avoided giving any confirmation on his living situation. That Draco sounded like he was repeating his father made him even less inclined to actually answer the unsaid questions. "I've no questions at the moment. If I do I'll keep you in mind, shall I?"
"You could just ask me, mate." Ronald blurted out, "We'll be in the same house, unlike them."
Salazar ignored the stiffening backs of the three other boys as he turned to the redhead. "You've no idea what house you'll be in."
"That's not true," Ronald countered, "Families go in the same house all the time. My family's all been Gryffindors."
"Well Slytherin is the best," Draco said as he leaned back into the bench, nose rising in the air as the touch of superiority returned to the child.
"Gryffindor's best!" cried out Ronald, his hands tightening into fists.
Salazar felt like palming his face in frustration. Surprisingly Draco noticed the faint irritation that escaped, read it correctly, and diverted the fight, somehow recalling the founder's earlier order. Of course, his diversion was rather lacking.
"Better than Hufflepuff at least," the blond offered as a peace treaty.
The redhead actually paused in surprise before, with a quick glance at Salazar, he nodded in agreement. "Yeah, suppose so."
Dear gods were everyone such bigoted fools that their children were too, wondered Salazar.
Hogwarts would have never existed without Helga. She had gone to the Council to petition at his side. It was her kind-hearted nature that swayed so many to their experiment of shared apprenticeships.—Only a few had been interested because of the founders' masteries and skill sets.—Maybe he'd mess with everyone's heads and force his sorting to the badger's house?
A few more minutes of stilted conversation passed before Draco rose to leave. Vincent and Gregory rose a second later. Draco glanced at Salazar before giving a general look at the compartment, "It was very good to meet you Ronald, Harry." He looked directly at the green-eyed boy and added, "Perhaps we might talk longer next time."
Salazar nodded kindly, feeling generous to the first child to actually follow his silent cues in this life. "I'm sure we'll see each other in the library if nothing else."
Ronald Weasley kept his tongue until the other boys had left the area. He exploded as soon as they were gone and the sliding door closed once more. "What was that!?"
He tugged the blinds down across the door's window and looked curiously at the redhead. "Common courtesy."
The boy blew up, jumped from his bench seat, and flung his arms about in emphasis. "That was Malfoy! His dad has been attacking my family for years. He's a bloody wanker who–"
"Insulted your family, your values, and your way of life," Salazar concluded for the boy, "I did notice the insults."
He colored in fury and stepped into Salazar's personal space. "You choose him!"
"Is that what you concluded from everything?" Salazar countered.
Ronald deflated in surprise. "Wha–What?"
Salazar sighed as he directed Ronald to his bench and reclaimed his own seat. "I do not agree with his words. Neither do I agree with your desire to cause physical harm. The best thing you could do to him is prove him wrong."
The child slumped back on the train bench. "Prove him wrong?"
"What were his words?" Salazar prompted.
"He called me poor," Ronald stated without pause.
The founder frowned. "That wasn't the important part. Who cares what material wealth a person has?–" Salazar shook his head. "–Yes, money makes certain things easier but it's what you do with your life that matters most."
At the sight of Ronald's disbelief, Salazar expanded his explanation, "Look, don't you have ambitions? Don't you desire to make something of yourself? Look beyond foolish childhood wants of the next greatest toy. Think of what you can achieve in your life. You could follow your passion, whatever it is. Then you will be exactly where you need to be. It won't matter what material possessions you have because you will be fulfilled in a way no money will achieve."
Salazar suddenly stopped talking. He hadn't meant to rant.
"My passions?" muttered Ron. He looked constipated as he fell into some deep thoughts.
Hopefully, he grew out of that look, thought Salazar in amusement.
"If you don't know them, that's your first step." Salazar offered after a minute. "Find them."
The young boy had rounded eyes as he looked up with conflict reflected in them. "And when I find them?"
Salazar leaned forward, his elbows rested on his knees and his hands spread out encompassingly before he folded them together. "Pursue them until they are yours. Let nothing get in your way." He sat back up as he realized he was being a little too intense. "It'll take hard work, a pursuit of knowledge, and a great deal of nerve to pursue your ambitions but–but you do not have to travel the road alone."
Salazar looked out the window as memories sprang forth of a time long past. The English countryside blurred by, so familiar and yet so foreign. "You need all those things but you do not have to have all of them all at once. Sometimes others might hold you up with their own hard work, their own knowledge–" He turned back to the redhead. "–their own nerve or resourcefulness. And, of course, there are some qualities you are incapable of; we all are. That's why you find your better parts to help you in those areas." His lips curled into a faint, bittersweet smile, "Most end up finding those betters in their wives or husbands, in comrades, kith and kin. Keep your eyes open and don't push away the possibilities. Just...consider what you need most right now to reach that goal."
Silence fell once more. After a few minutes, Salazar pulled his book back out and lost track of time. At one point the trolley lady passed by. He purchased a few sweets to share with the quiet redhead, though he kept all the pumpkin pasties to himself. To his amusement, he got a chocolate frog of Albus Dumbledore, Godric Gryffindor, and himself. The portraits of Godric and him were entirely inaccurate. The descriptions were just as bad.
He had every plan to show off the Gryffindor one to his brother when he finally made an appearance on Samhain.
Ron finally spoke, voice a whisper that Salazar guessed he wasn't supposed to hear. "Hard work...Hufflepuff wouldn't be so bad...Would it?" The redheaded boy shook his head and rose a moment later. "'Cuse me...I need to find my brothers. Do you mind?"
"You can leave your things," Salazar agreed without looking up from his book. Soon after, he finished the thin novel and took a moment to change into his Hogwarts uniform.
It hadn't changed much over the centuries. The robe was made of finer fabric that wasn't wool. The number of buttons down the neck had changed to seven. There were still flowing sleeves but they now had discrete ties to tie back the flowing fabric during various activities like potions and herbology. Then there were the pockets on either side. Both pockets were large enough to hold the dragon hide gloves or a folded-up hat. They also had a built-in thinner pocket within the main pockets, one to house your wand. The neckline was a high square collar that wrapped around the neck, secured in place by the topmost button.(5)
Overall it was a highly conservative wizarding robe with minor shaping around the chest and waist to give the children some structure without emphasizing any body parts. After a moment to consider all the optional undergarments he had purchased, Salazar decided to go with a simple black tunic and the jean trousers he already had on. After a change of shirt, it was a simple matter of throwing the robe over his head. Then he took a moment to pull on his dress boots, equally black in color.
Muggles would assume he was some odd uni graduate or funeral goer. At least until he added the pointed hat. Then they would wonder if he was a ridiculous child hoping for Halloween to come early.
Salazar looked at his reflection in the window and smiled in amusement. This brought back memories. The robe hadn't actually been "in style"(6), too obviously magical when the muggles could be about, but it had been a physical piece of "magic". It had served its purpose of drawing together the various magical children, allowing them to find uniformity and acceptance amongst a sea of identically clothed children. It had removed any sign of monetary wealth and placed them all at the same standing. He had never worn it as the teachers needed a physical sign of authority as much as the students needed cohesion.
He had never gotten into robes. The majority of his modern-day wardrobe consisted of layered tunics and trousers with only a few simple robes thrown in. Tunics had been the "fashion" of his day also but they hadn't been modernized with unusual fabrics, textiles, collar shapes, lengths, and so on. (It was more "wear what the non-magicals wore to survive" type of fashion.) This day and age seemed to have an endless list of options.
Hermione Granger reappeared an hour later. Startled at the sight of his uniform, she stuttered out praise for already changing and fled. Salazar had the odd feeling the girl was intimidated by him. It wasn't a first but for the life of him, he couldn't think of a reason for it. If anyone should be intimidated by him, it was Ronald and Draco.
The train began to slow soon after Hermione left. Salazar looked out the darkened window. Distant lights glinted out through what looked to be a forest. There had not been a forest near Hogwarts—Not a thousand years ago. The only trees had been the groves he had planted to help with the wards. Where had the forest come from?
Salazar began to consider searching for the redhead as the boy's uniform was still in the compartment. That thought didn't go further as ancient but familiar magic brushed against his senses. All thoughts vanished as his wards recognized him somehow, forcefully realigned to his core, and connected with a sharp, demanding click.
Information exploded through the fresh link. The world turned white as his mind shifted to accommodate the old mental connection and his core wrapped instinctively around the ward anchors. The old places the wards belonged in his mind and core were reclaimed without hesitation.
Salazar blinked his eyes open and groaned. The floor was against his face.
"Did you fall asleep and fall off the bench?" The founder slowly turned his head and stared up at the goggled redhead. "You alright mate?"
"Ugh," Salazar helpfully answered before he forced himself to move. Pain expanded across his forehead and down his nose only to travel across his cheekbones. An ache stretched into his ears and a very faint ringing sound echoed out. He had a full-blown migraine and he expected it won't go away anytime soon.
His chest hurt, except it was really his core protesting the sudden intrusion of the ward anchors. His tongue felt fluffy, possibly swollen. He had bitten it but couldn't taste any blood. He was honestly surprised he hadn't screamed.
"Err, Harry?"
Salazar groaned again and dropped ungraciously back onto his bench. "Ron." His voice croaked as he spoke. "Get dressed."
"Right! Right."
oooP3ooo
Salazar wasn't entirely certain how he successfully reached the castle's foyer. He didn't particularly care, though the founder had a feeling he owed Ronald a thank you. His head continued to pound through the commotion as the children—his peers—talked amongst themselves, panicked over whatever the sorting now entailed, and then panicked over ghosts as a group of silvery people floated through the upper part of the foyer.
If he had been feeling well, he would have paid them some mind. He could have eased various worries. If he had been able to focus he would have liked to look at the ghosts too since there hadn't been any last time around, Hogwarts had been too new. If he had been feeling well, he would have reviewed the changes to Hogwarts in every aspect he could.
But he wasn't feeling particularly well at all.
He was also wholly unprepared for the second invasion of magic that locked an anchor into his mind and core. This time was even less pleasant as it was an entirely new anchoring; one that Salazar would have fought if he had had the mental and magical fortitude to do so. Luckily (or unluckily as the case might be), he was able to slump against the wall in the back of the group of first years. No one paid any mind as they focused on their own concerns.
More information flooded his senses, much of which he forcefully ignored for the sake of staying awake. The information flood stopped as soon as he mentally pushed it away and a bizarre feeling of apology mixed with joy flowed through him. It wasn't his emotion, but his mind wasn't working well enough to figure it out at the moment.
All he could tell was that it wasn't malevolent, at least towards him. And it was vaguely familiar. Salazar could recognize enough to know it had to do with Hogwarts but for the life of him couldn't recall what it was. Whatever it was had recognized who he was, though.
The distinct pop-click of a House elf announced the arrival of a female, floppy-eared elf dressed in a Hogwarts crested pillowcase-like outfit. Salazar blinked owlishly down at her as the creature hopped up and down in excitement. It spoke quietly, somehow not drawing any of the children's attention, "Master Sally be home! Hogsie says Mipsy needs to take Master Sally's bag to his suite. Master Sally's suite will be ready by the end of the feast."
Salazar nodded slowly, there had not been any House elves at Hogwarts. They were House elves, meaning only Houses could afford the magical and monetary cost. He would have to ask the others to see when exactly Hogwarts had gotten elves. It was possible they didn't know, though the elf's name for Salazar implied an association with Godric. He was the idiot to create and use that nickname.
"Master Sally?"
Salazar handed over his bag with a short, "I'm a student, for now, best leave my bag in whichever dorm I'll be in." Mipsy made a disapproving sound but didn't complain otherwise as she pop-clicked away.
His headache seemed to get worse as the Deputy Headmistress appeared and informed them of detailed facts about their possible schoolhouses, none of which actually stuck in his head. The founder was fairly certain he'd survive not knowing.
By and by, he likely already knew everything she had spouted off between the obscenely inaccurate Hogwarts: A History, his own memory, and all the stories the other founders had told him—even though said stories were incomplete on some rather important details.—If he had missed something he'd find out later. Important matters tended to be repeated, particularly to young, easily distracted children.
When the doors to the Great Hall opened, he hissed. Blinding light from hundreds of floating candles exasperated his migraine. He had half a mind to inform everyone that he owned the damn castle, didn't particularly need to be sorted, and would be in his personal quarters till further notice. Salazar truly almost spoke up. Then the deputy pulled out Godric's hat and it started to sing.
It was the sorting hat, apparently. Salazar couldn't quite get past the part about Godric's hat singing. Who had the idea to let it sing? It was almost as bad that it was rhyming at the same time. In his day the sorting was a quiet pursuit of a child's desires and qualities which occurred privately between the founders and child.
None of this–this–whatever this was, Salazar huffed to himself.
He was going to blame Helga for this one. She probably snuck in rhyming and singing in her part of the enchanting. He could see her thinking such would relax the children while forgetting entirely about adults having to listen to it too.
Even with blaming Helga, he still wanted someone to explain how they had forgotten to tell him about Godric's singing hat. That just wasn't something easily forgot—even for the dead.
While Salazar was having his internal, sarcastic outrage over the hat, said hat finished its song and the deputy called out the first child to be sorted. Salazar paid little attention to the various names. He was in no position to recall them later, what with the present migraine, so it would have been a waste of time and effort. He did pay attention to where the children went, though. It was a pleasant surprise to see the first few go to Hufflepuff. After all the derision towards the house, he had been concerned that it would be near empty.
Vincent was sorted into Slytherin which wasn't where Salazar would have sent him but it was not terribly shocking. Soon after, Gregory joined his fellow first year at the Slytherin table. While Vincent and Gregory had a Hufflepuff attitude towards Draco, they would be bound to desire similar things as the blond. It was one of the difficulties of sorting true Hufflepuffs, their loyalty could get in the way. Of course, true Hufflepuffs could do with other traits enforced and nurtured.
Hermione Granger was another child sorted for what she desired, or perhaps needed, over what she had. The girl was entirely Rowena's. Perhaps, though, she would learn the most in Gryffindor. She may have already learned all she would have in Ravenclaw and needed Godric's teachings more.
Draco was unsurprisingly sorted into Slytherin. The child was too certain of where he had wanted to go for any other option. Salazar wasn't convinced the boy would learn everything he could have if he had ended up in another house but it wasn't terrible. Draco could do with a little more cunning and resourcefulness. But then Draco could have done with Helga's teachings more. Helga would have enjoyed teaching him a little kindness, a little humility, and the pleasure of hard work.
Salazar caught himself then.
Helga was dead. Godric was dead. They were all dead. Only the ghost of their teachings might still exist. These children would hopefully still learn some qualities of his fellow founders but they would not learn from them directly. Poor imitations would be all this generation would have.
His throat constricted. Salazar felt choked up as the thoughts overwhelmed him for a moment, standing within Hogwarts once more. The strange sense of something hugging him flitted through the depressing thoughts and migraine.
A sharp call, one that clearly hadn't been the first, caught his attention, "Will Potter, Harry come up." Snapped the professor in her Scottish brogue. The entire hall had filled with whispers from his lack of movement. They all were wondering if he was even present.
Salazar blanked his expression as he walked to the front. He finally noticed Headmaster Dumbledore, and his chair, which was oddly throne-like. The potential dingbat of a freak twinkled blue eyes down at him. Their gaze met for a moment and Salazar thought he felt something press against his mind. It caused the migraine to spike—or it was just the light reflecting off all that gold. He forced himself to focus on the present instead of the odd choice of chair for the old man. (What a waste of perfectly good gold.)
"I apologize ma'am," he muttered to the deputy as he reached her and the stool, "My thoughts were ages away."
The woman startled at his explanation but gave a short nod and held out the hat. The poor thing had clearly seen better days. Though it was a marvel it had survived as long as it had.
He sat and the hat was placed on his head. It fell over his eyes and ears, darkening the harsh light and giving him some relief. Immediately the old enchantments whispered their secrets. The reincarnate suppressed a shudder as he recognized Godric's fiery magic entwined with Helga's stabilizing force. Gareth's more mild fire and Rowena's cooling liquid like magic rose, just as entwined. He didn't feel any hint of Evander within the layers of magic but Evander's specialty had always been healing and this hat had little to do with such a discipline.
Salazar took a steadying breath and focused on the actual magic of the hat instead of the bittersweet illusion of his kin and kith so close to him. The original enchantments for personality and looking at the child's life and desires were present. It all seemed like reasonable charms and mind-delving spellwork that would cause no harm to the developing mind of a child, all tied neatly into the leather hat. Rowena would be pleased with how long her preservation enchantment had survived, though not as pleased as Helga when she heard of the singing.
The feel of other, unknown magic rose.
He frowned.
Along with the old magic were multiple poorly, and not so poorly, added spells to sway the hat's sorting of certain personages. Multiple were geared towards nudging pureblooded children towards his house over the others. A couple pushed supposedly magically weak children to Hufflepuff (but had no clear guide to determine said weakness outside the child's own perception of themselves). The newest seemed to focus on connections to death eaters and nudged those children towards Slytherin. One of the oldest twisted the selection process to take the child's preferred house in mind over the child's actual needs. Hidden amongst these complicated curses were a few that did something to the hat's sorting song but Salazar couldn't quite grasp the thin magic to tell what it did exactly. (Maybe the rhyming hadn't been Helga's doing after all?)
Those spells would be removed as soon as he could borrow the hat. Between this, the wards, whatever else had tied itself to him, and all his personal projects, Salazar expected to be busy for the majority of the year. First, he needed to get through the sorting so he could sleep off his migraine, though.
An odd choking squeak escaped the hat. Salazar realized that the noise had been out loud when the hall exploded into whispers.
'Do you mind?' Salazar projected out to the central enchantment, the brain as it were, in annoyance.
'You–I–Many apologize, sir!' stuttered out the hat through the mental link, 'I've heard so much about you. So much.'
'Can we get on with it?'
Another squeak escaped the enchanted hat, this time internal. 'Yes, of course. I suppose there's no point in discussing options. You understand the entire purpose behind this and you know what you'd potentially get out of each house.'
'Not particularly worried about having a house to promote new things.' Salazar countered dryly. 'It's not like I'll stick to the one house after all.'
'Ah, and you don't think you'd like Gryffindor? I've been asked to convince you, you see.' A faint compulsion flickered to life in the hat's magic as it spoke. The hat made another squeak as it felt Salazar's confused annoyance at the idea and at the magic. It was weak. The hat's primary spellwork would still do its job if Salazar had no inclination toward Godric's house, so he left it for the moment.
'We'll discuss that another time.' Salazar answered. It wasn't that he disliked the idea of being a Gryffindor but he was who he was. As for who had cursed the hat, he could guess—only the headmaster or deputy would have had access to the hat. Dumbledore seemed connected to a great deal of his life.
'Ah, yes. It's the headmaster,' the hat agreed. 'He's planned a number of challenges for you. There's much to tell you.'
Salazar frowned at that. He was half a mind to just hash out the conversation now but the hall of students were whispering even more and he wasn't certain he'd remember many of the details with the migraine interfering. 'Later.'
'Of course, I'm always available to you, sir. Now, the sorting...not Gryffindor… Of course not Gryffindor...I don't suppose you want to follow through with that threat and be sorted into Hufflepuff? ...But no, I don't think the house would survive and Lady Helga would never forgive me...Lady Rowena would have similar thoughts, though Lady Helena would be pleased if you were a Ravenclaw...You do have such a collection of books now...but you are who you are, as you say. It better be–'
The hat's voice shifted from Salazar's mind, sounding as if it had been right in his ears, to outward where it filled the room. "Slytherin!"
Salazar handed the hat back to the deputy while the hall fell silent. He paid no mind to the less than stellar response from everyone, particularly his own house. Salazar flicked his gaze around the hall, squinted against the bright lights, and noted the banners above each long table. He headed to the predominantly green banner and claimed the front seat as it opened up for him. The older students startled as they found themselves back a seat from their original position. Salazar didn't notice the reason for their bewilderment, preoccupied between the migraine and the hat's words.
No one else noticed the change in seating as Professor McGonagall redirected everyone's attention to the sorting. Ronald Weasley was eventually called and, to Salazar's pleasure, was sorted into Hufflepuff. He guessed Ronald had realized that he needed a great deal of hard work for whatever ambitions he was shooting for. The sorting finally concluded after Blaise Zabini joined his house.
The headmaster rose and announced some odd array of nonsense which led to the food appearing. Salazar paid him no mind as a hot steaming mug of mint tea had replaced his goblet and his golden plate was filled with a much-missed meal. A rye roll, made from far finer ground flour but still smelling like he remembered, sat beside roasted onions and carrots, and a fillet of salmon. The salmon was fresh and roasted with the smell of campfire floating off it.
Salazar needed to find out how the House elves had known. He doubted Godric had reminisced on his favored meals. None of them would have had a reason to. Probably. Because really, Remember dear Salazar? He rather liked fish., didn't seem like something any of them would have said.
By the time Salazar finished his plate, he had recovered enough to realize that none of the children were eating anything like his meal and were in fact claiming food from shared platters. A short glance around showed that no one was paying any mind to his unique meal but that didn't mean they hadn't noticed.
As Salazar watched, enjoying a refilled mug of tea, he realized no one was even glancing in his direction. He was a celebrity. There was no way the entire hall of children would ignore him. Some of them were bound to peek a glance his way every once in a while. Something odd was happening but he couldn't make himself care. The lack of attention allowed him a far more peaceful meal than he had expected. He did check to see if he happened to place his pendant on but was unsurprised he couldn't find it around his neck.
His plate was replaced with a smaller plate as shared platters of dessert made their appearance on the table. This time he was left to join the other children in sharing the sweets. Salazar found that the treacle tart might have become his new favorite.
The headmaster rose as the desserts vanished. Salazar politely listened to the old man as he announced various forbidden places, including the right part of the third floor. That would have to be investigated and neutralized so no fool-hearted Gryffindor, overly ambitious Slytherin, determined Hufflepuff, or curious Ravenclaw decided to "stumble" upon it.
His thoughts were derailed as the student body, even his house, began to sing some bizarre horror of a song. Helga should be pleased she was already dead if she had had anything to do with this atrocity. This time, though, Salazar hoped he could blame it on one of her descendants instead. He was probably being too hopeful. (The song was probably not as bad as he thought. His migraine had to be making it out worse than it actually was.)
oooP4ooo
"You didn't sit with me." Came a whine as Salazar settled onto one of the leather couches in the common room. Draco settled at his side. Vincent, Gregory, and a boy Salazar thought might have been Blaise Zabini claimed seats around them. The other first years claimed other seats as the sixth-year prefects took over for the fifth-year ones.
"I apologize," Salazar offered when Draco nudged him. "Next time, perhaps."
The blond nodded clearly pleased. Any further conversation was cut off as the prefects ran through various facts about their new home. Salazar gave them his attention, though all he wanted was to claim a bed and sleep through the rest of his migraine.
It was good to hear that the girls' dorms still had the proper enchantments on the entrance. Both sets of dorms were still in their correct place, right for girls and left for boys. They were still expected to travel in a pack the first week as they acclimated to the twisting halls of the castle.
The only difference he came upon was the existence of house points and the insistence that Slytherin house stayed visibly united as if the rest of the school were against them. Salazar frowned over that new development. He wondered if it was a result of the poor decision to have house points.
Slytherin was filled with ambitious students who would do anything to get to that ambition. Many ambitious people were naturally competitive. It was a simple fact of character. He supported that; they were qualities he could nurture. As long as the children were taught the correct moral compass to direct that drive, there were no issues. But to set a challenge that would flame said ambitious and competitive natures could only drive a wedge between the Slytherin house and the others.
The issue was likely exacerbated by the fact that the other houses' prized qualities also attracted driven, competitive characters. There was Hufflepuff's hard work, Ravenclaw's desire for knowledge (and the need to prove their level of said knowledge), and Gryffindor's courage and nerve. The house points and the end prize were one enormous headache he'd have to deal with eventually. Salazar had half a mind to delve into necromancy to bring back the imbecile that created the competition. The fool could deal with all the paperwork.
The prefects finished their speech, ending with a firm order to be down at 7 am sharp, and released the first years. Salazar allowed Draco to drag him into their dorm. All he wanted was to sleep away his migraine. It was a pleasure seeing his bed, his bag hung on a hook over the nightstand, and his pajamas already out, freshly cleaned and ironed. They were still warm.
Salazar knew then that he was going to enjoy the odd pampering from the House elves.
oooPooo
1 - Chivalry is a word created from Middle English from Old French. The chivalric code was developed after Godric Gryffindor between 1170 and 1220. It wasn't until about the 14th century that English speakers adopted the word to describe their own knights. In other words, it would be a quality added to the schoolhouse after the founder's time.
Of course, this leaves courage, bravery and nerve. Courage and bravery are nearly identical. The only difference is one has courage while one can show courage through being brave. Nerve is to possess courage while enduring a length of difficulty instead of only being courageous for a short time.
Still, the three are extremely similar qualities. Ravenclaw and Slytherin have similar issues with two of the four qualities the sorting hat gives (intelligence and learning, cunning and resourcefulness). Hufflepuff is the only house that has four distinct qualities.
2 - Rowling gives us the first known broom race in the 10th century (at most a century before the founders). Enchanting brooms for flight would have logically been for travel, meaning there weren't other convenient modes for the average witch or wizard. Of course, enchanted rugs would have been similar. Rowling also discusses all the various forms of odd travel a wizard or witch would use to reach Hogwarts in her old Pottermore website, apparition was not one of the ways described. Point is, I assumed that Apparition is not a common mode of travel for a few centuries after. So for this story, Apparition was not invented until after the founders died.
3 - Rowling is vague on money for obvious reasons but fans have debated how much people would make in a year and the economics of the magical world. I used various discussions on that to determine a few facts. For the purposes of this AU, the solid gold galleon is magically spelled against muggleborns and Muggles trading it for the worth of its gold. The conversion from magical and muggle money is artificially set to keep the magical money from being pushed into the muggle economy because "they are trying to hide" and a large quantity of money or gold appearing would be a major red flag in the muggle world. It also means that the conversion rate Salazar asked about in chapter 3 had no actual barring on how much magical items actually cost.
The bag cost more than his wand. The wand was subsidized by the government as part of an education law that will be very vaguely referenced from time to time as Hogwarts, the premier school of the British Isles, is not actually free in this story—no matter what Rowling decided for canon.
4 - There is nothing on trade during the dark ages in Britain that I have found.—That doesn't mean it doesn't exist. And Silenia helpful left a comment with links to various historical articles that note coinage used throughout the centuries between the fall of the Western Roman Empire and the conquest of the Normans hint toward international trade existing within Britain.
Flint and various ores were a major trade commodity at one point or another (possibly only after the 1300s though). The Danes were not just conquering marauders but seafaring traders. That William the Conqueror was first cousins with Edward the Confessor, giving him a legitimate claim to the English throne also indicates the potential trade connections with the mainland. It cannot be known if anyone from further away than France and the seafaring Danes actually physically visited Britain at this time (as far as I can find). I assume it's unlikely.
That doesn't mean some heritage from the wide range of ethnicity Rome sent into Britain didn't survive but it's been long enough I'd say it was less than common for much diversity in physical appearance to present itself in Salazar's first life. Hence Salazar's thoughts on this.
5 - In the books, the uniform is a set of actual robes, not the weird bathrobe/overcoat going on in the movies. So the uniform is going to be said robes.
6 - The Fashion industry and the concept of having "in style" clothing and clothing no longer "in style", outside of court (and that didn't take a century or so to shift from "in season" to "out of season" when Royalty was not involved), was a concept invented by the East India Company back in the mid-seventeenth century. The company did this to boost its sales of various oriental and cotton cloth. (The company invented the first form of the modern-day fashion industry. XD)
Salazar wouldn't have had much modern fashion sense. Instead, it would have been a "what won't get me killed" and "what will last as long as bloody possible through all the wear and tear", while looking decent. There was fashion, just not in the same way as now. And the magical community was trying to hide in plain sight.