Ouroboros

by Novus Ars

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

15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

oooP1ooo

(Harry)

Warmth flowed up his hand as he patted the poplar in greeting and entered the grove. Salazar released his breath with a soft sigh as the heavy, magically saturated air settled over him and the grove became visible with its ancient trees rising up out of the darkness. His shoulders relaxed and his eyes closed for a moment. The earth's magic sang as it flowed through him and back to the earth, tethering him and connecting him to the world in a way so few people ever experienced.

A slight nudge from Godric had him continue into the grove. This was the first of the groves he had visited and it was the grove Godric had awoken in. It seemed only right that it would be the grove they celebrated Samhain at. That it was whole and protected was even more reason to choose it over the others.

Moonlight glowed down through the giant trees. The poplars and rowans were bare of leaves and the oaks had only brown ones clinging stubbornly. Most of the grove's floor was covered in the dried brown husks of the rest. Purple heather peeked out from those leafy piles and junipers almost glowed with their branches heavy with blue-purple berries. The yew was covered in its own red berries and the Scottish pines rose like sentries into the night sky.

Orange eyes shined out at him from an oak branch.

"Omorose?"

The eyes vanished to only reappear on the ground. A very pregnant kneazle stalked out of the dark towards them. She looked up at Salazar, lion tail high in the air, and churriped in greeting. Her pendant rested on her chest still but something more dangled from the chain. Salazar knelt and offered her a hand which she rubbed her face against. He lifted the chain and tilted his head as he regarded the new additions curiously. An acorn and a small bundle of feathers dangled alongside the pendant. He didn't think she had this last he had seen her, though he had been thoroughly distracted.

Salazar rolled the acorn between his fingers and felt a small pool of magic at the center. A whisper of wild nature, a hunt through forests, protective acceptance, and precognition answered his probing touch. "Playing nice with the centaurs, are we?" he asked his black feline.

"Her name's Omorose, then?" Godric asked as he knelt and offered his own hand to the kneazle. She lifted her nose to the air and turned away from the Gryffindor.

Salazar shifted his satchel hanging at his side and scooped up the large, pregnant feline. "Yes. Omorose." She looked at him with her eyes reflecting orange in the moonlight. Salazar tilted his head at Godric. "Meet Godric. He's going to be around from now on."

She looked back at Godric, entirely unimpressed with that fact.

Godric snorted. "So no snake? Always figured you'd eventually get a snake."

"Scotland is a terrible place to have a snake," Salazar countered with a faint scowl, knowing they've had this conversation multiple times before in their past life. It really wasn't going to change, no matter how many times Godric brought it up. (Salazar was certain his brother only did because it was amusing for him.) "The poor thing would just freeze to death...and whine about the cold the entire time."

His brother looked entirely too amused by it all.

Salazar huffed and stalked over to the ancient yew. He knelt a few feet from the tree, settled Omorose on his lap with one hand stroking her to keep her content, and pulled his satchel around to dig through it, handing Godric stones he had collected from the loch's shore. Godric took each rounded stone and set it on the ground, forming a circle.

Omorose took the opportunity to spring from Salazar's lap and vanished into the juniper bushes, her belly swaying as she ran as best she could. Salazar watched her leave, shaking his head at her.

"The candle?" Godric asked.

Salazar turned back and found the stone circle complete. He pulled a candle covered in the tiny marking for the ritual. It had already been blessed and prepared for the early morning festivities.

The Slytherin also pulled a tin he popped the lid off, releasing the smell of cinnamon. Mipsy and he had made one of the recipes Salazar had learned this time around. It didn't seem right to let the House elf make the offering but none of them had let him work in the kitchen on his own.—Apparently he had to prove he was capable of it first.—So they had compromised. (And he might have enticed them by showing the new recipe.)

Godric snagged the tin, stole a cinnamon-swirled cookie to munch on, and set it before the stone circle with the candle nestled in the center. Then his brother settled onto the ground at Salazar's side, slightly separated to avoid interrupting any of the ritual magics.

Salazar took a deep, slow breath and rose. There was ritual in each movement, though part of it was for show which was something he didn't always bother with. Tonight felt important enough to proceed with the greatest amount of care, though. The Hogwarts Founders would be reunited soon, after all.

He took two measured steps to the small, stone circle and knelt to press the wick of the candle between thumb and finger. Salazar breathed in and out slowly, purposely as he grasped the magic flowing through his form. He didn't grasp it tight as if about to twist it into a spell, he simply guided it to the wick. The blessed candle was already prepared to respond to Mother's magic.

When the magic pulsed from his fingers, the wick lit a silvery white light. Salazar moved his hand away carefully so as not to kill the small flame and rose. He backed up with another two measured steps and knelt back to the ground.

The candlelight illuminated the grove and threw sharp shadows across the ancient forest and the two founders' faces. Omorose slunk back to them, stalked around the two boys, and slowly pressed against Godric. Salazar watched her from the corner of his eye for a moment, caught the amused look Godric shot him and turned back to the ritual at hand.

Salazar pulled his alder flute from his satchel, having moved it to a more readily accessible section of the magical bag earlier. He turned it around in his hands, remembering the summer days hidden away in his little magical nook of Surrey with only Omorose for company. So many things had changed. For the better, Salazar thought with a slight smile.

He lifted the flute up and played the light, airy music. Godric made a faint noise and Salazar could hear a mewl of complaint but he ignored his two companions and focused on the music. The white flame stopped dancing in the faint breeze and grew in strength, chasing shadows away. The earth magic flowed through him and sang joyfully in tune. Magic, flowing through the yew, responded and began to sing too. The earth's magic swirled naturally through all living things, so the singing magic from the tree and Salazar sank into the earth. It swirled about through dirt and rock and grass to rise up into Salazar and the yew but also spread into the junipers and heathers and other yew trees.

The candlelight grew yet brighter.

Yews had a stronger, often more dangerous connection to death and the afterlife than holly trees. Salazar could feel the difference between this ritual and last year's. The trees here jumped to respond to him. Nature's magic, though all from the same source, seemed to come to his call more readily and eagerly.

One moment the white flame illuminated the world. The next it died.

Salazar lowered the flute, eyes blown wide at the loss of light. The after-effects left glowing circles in his sight. He blinked to get rid of it.

Wind rushed out at them from the yew tree, buffeting Salazar's hair and causing a sharp growl of annoyance from Omorose. It whistled across his ears and within it came an almost wailing sound, "Saaaaalllllaaaaazzzzzaaaarrrrr".

The opening within the ancient yew, where its heartwood had slowly been eaten away by time and fungi, began to lighten. As if stepping through a door, a startling solid but silvery spirit materialized. The form was indistinguishable for a moment and then sharpened into focus, revealing Helga with a joyful smile directed at them both. Her steps crunched the ground. Dried leaves and grass responded to her presence.

Salazar shared a wide-eyed look with Godric, hands clenching his flute. When he turned back to the yew, he found Rowena and Evander arm in arm and as solid as Helga. Then, to Salazar's mild bewilderment, another spirit stepped through and solidified into his old master and head of the triad guild. The old druid, Master Hardwin, looked over the grove appreciatively.

The four spirits stepped across the ground and claimed a cookie each. Helga made a pleasing sound as she tasted her cookie. Rowena took a snapping bite even as she dropped her husband's arm and stalked over to Salazar. She walloped the reincarnated brunet on the top of his head.

"Owe," yelped Salazar as he instinctively ducked back in case she decided to hit him again. The sensation of icy water being dumped over him accompanied the surprising pain. "What the hell?"

"The library is not your laboratory!" she snapped down at him, clenching the cookie into crumbles in one hand and waving her fist at him with the other. "Move it to an empty classroom or so help me–"

Godric interrupted her, "Rowena, there are more important things–"

The silvery spirit of Rowena Ravenclaw turned and glared at Godric, silencing him with a look. "More important than knowledge?!"

Evander snagged Rowena's arm and pulled her back from Salazar. Helga waved cheerfully over at Godric. "It is good to see you here Godric. I am glad you both have been reborn as such."

"Good to see you too, Hel–"

"Yes, yes," Evander interrupted Godric's response, "It is all very good but we have things to discuss. We can catch up after."

Salazar rubbed his head, "Well I had hoped Helena would join us before we began…" He glanced back to the entrance but she was nowhere in sight. "She has been avoiding us both since we sat her down to discuss Eustace."

He turned back in time to see Rowena shrink back from the rest of them and Evander stiffen, expression turned hard and cold.

"We are aware," Helga answered with a quick look at her fellow spirits. "But I do not wish to start with that conversation."

"Helena's care is of the utmost importance," Salazar countered.

Godric leaned forward, revealing Omorose sprawled across the ground at his far side. "It is time to remove the boy. He should have never been allowed to stay!"

"We do not force ghosts to pass on without cause." Master Hardwin stated sharply, sending the founders of Hogwarts into silence. He looked over them all with a deep frown. "A ghost is to be allowed to find their own way. We do not decide when they are ready nor do we ignore the mechanisms of why ghosts come to be in the first place. Nothing good will happen to that spirit if they are forced before their time."

Salazar grimaced and felt more like a child at that moment than having been reborn one had ever really done. No one said anything to the master. None wanted to argue a losing battle. (Though they all had long become masters in their own right.)

Rowena was the one who finally spoke. Her voice was soft, her face tilted away from them all, and her hair curtained about her, reminiscent of Helena, hiding from them even as she spoke. "Even if we removed Eustace, it would not help her." She wrapped her arms about her front, hands clenching the opposite arm's elbow in a vague hug. "She returned a ghost before him. He may have killed her but he is not the reason she chose to remain here."

"No," Evander agreed, his voice sharp and judging, "he is not."

Rowena flinched.

Salazar closed his eyes as he realized he must be missing something about it all. Or perhaps Helena's description of it was as bad as she had described it. He had been inclined to think her exaggerating it at least a little. Children did that and he still saw her as a child.

There was one other avenue that might help Helena pass on. "The diadem...would bringing it back to Hogwarts help her?"

"Perhaps," came Rowena's voice.

He opened his eyes as he nodded. "Then we will find it and return it."

"The diadem was taken?" Godric asked, "Stolen?"

Salazar looked down at the flute as he twisted it about in his hands. Helena had not explained but Godric deserved to know at least a little. He gave a short answer, "Helena took it and hide it." He looked up at his brother. "You'll have to ask her for the details."

Godric frowned but said nothing to that.

The group fell silent. Each spirit settled onto the ground in a circle about the unlit candle. Salazar tucked away his flute and shifted his satchel so he could lean against it. Omorose materialized from behind him and claimed his lap.

It was time to talk about his scar. Salazar had avoided telling Godric anything because the once-redhead should focus on regaining ten years of memories. He couldn't wait longer, though. The sludge in his scar was acting up, it was more than just a taint and he needed any advice he could get.

"Gareth?" Godric interrupted Salazar's thoughts.

Helga shook her head, her smile turned down.

He looked over to Godric who was leaning back, propping himself up with his hands, and answered for their dead friends, "He's never answered my call."

Godric glanced over and sat up. "Then he could be with us? We could awaken hi–"

"No," stated Master Hardwin with a firm shake of his head, "You two are intertwined together by ritual bonds of old. Such allowed your awakening, Godric. It would not work for Gareth, even if you did find his returned soul."

Salazar and Godric silently nodded in understanding, though Salazar couldn't help but wonder what other circumstance might awaken past lives. They couldn't have been a one-off instance. The concept of reincarnation must have stemmed from some past person experiencing a similar awakening as Godric and he had. Silence fell over them all for a moment.

"Master Hardwin," Salazar said instead. Though he hesitated in bringing it up, he imagined the scolding he would receive for not investigating the oddity, "Though I appreciate your presence, I did not call you."

His old master offered a kind smile and nodded. "I do apologize, Salazar. You did not call but the magic whispered of your desire to see me and I used it to come all the same." He looked up at the yew tree. "I believe she knew of your desires as she allowed me entry without your invitation."

"I...see…" Salazar offered, not understanding how such was possible.

Master Hardwin looked back to Salazar and said seriously, "Investigate this matter as I have never heard a spirit able to come when not called, allowed by the tree the calling came through." He looked down at a hand and plucked up a fallen leaf, fiery red with its edges curling into a brown. "I should not be able to interact with anything beyond your offering. It may be because you grew this grove from seed. None have lived to see their grove become ancient. Your connection to it must be marvelous." His silvery face turned up towards Salazar sharply. "But I can be wrong in this. Do not take my word for the truth on it and investigate when you are able."

He buried his hand into Omorose's fur, grounding himself at the realization that the thousand years between lives had not cut their connection to the magic they had left behind. He had known that on some level but he had not considered what that might mean beyond it being useful. It may have unknown consequences. Salazar nodded, "Yes sir."

The old man nodded, pleased. "I look forward to seeing your investigation and hearing your findings. One day, at least...Now I will not stay beyond the matter you wished me present for. I am certain all of you wish to reconnect properly."

Rowena took that as an invitation and verbally pounced. She leaned forward, gaze intent on Salazar (more specifically his runic scar), and said, "What did your scar feel like when the wailing began and it bled during the purification ritual?"

Godric straightened with a frown. Salazar firmly avoided meeting his sharp gaze as the blond quickly deduced who she was asking.

Evander added, "We watched your ritual. You did nothing wrong as far as we could tell."

"The wailing was not coming from you, from your mouth," Helga stated grimly. She worried at a piece of grass, twisting it and breaking it. Her gaze was as intent as Rowena's but more worried than intrigued.

Salazar could feel Godric's gaze burning into him. The cold early morning air was actually heating up. His brother was not pleased with him.

"What can you tell us?" Hardwin demanded as he took in the matter.

Salazar bowed his head as he both considered his purification ritual for the millionth time, still uncertain how to best describe the experience, and to give himself a moment more to ignore Godric's gaze. He should have told Godric but it wasn't like Godric was in any position to truly help at the moment.

"Salazar?" There was an edge to Godric's voice.

The parselmouth looked up. Godric stared back, lips pressed into a displeased line but hazel eyes shone with concern. "Your scar was open after the trip into the loch."

Salazar grimaced but agreed, "It was."

Godric snapped back, "Explain."

He tugged a hand through his hair and pulled the bangs away from the irritated runic scar. Salazar looked from Hardwin to Godric and back as he explained, "This scar is a result of my surviving a killing curse when I was a little over a year old. My parents died by the same curse but the man that killed them did not succeed in killing me–"

"And you are credited for vanquishing him that same night," Godric added.

Salazar huffed, "Not important, Godric."

"It could be," Master Hardwin countered as he rose and walked over to Salazar. He reached out with a careful hand and grasped Salazar's chin, tilting Salazar's head this way and that as he looked over the scar. The feel of icy water froze Salazar's chin and slowly spread up across cheeks and lips the longer Hardwin held on. Finally, the elder druid brushed a finger over the scar. This close to the spirit filled Salazar's nose with the smell of ozone and the decay of leaves.

Nothing happened.

Hardwin let go with a frown. "Continue," he said as he returned to his seat.

Salazar rubbed at his cheeks to regain feeling. Pinpricks and tingles spread across his face. "Well," he said as he shifted his jaw about to try and hurry the process along, causing his ears to pop, "Well, there were no obvious issues with the scar, beyond it always looking irritated. At least, until I completed my first purification ritual a few months ago. There's not much more to say about that beyond what they pointed out—the ritual magics worked to purify and heal and eventually reached the scar...where...something reacted. It screamed and tried to-to fight the magic." He closed his eyes and tried to recall the moment. "Twisted." He grimaced and opened his eyes as he explained, "It was extremely painful, all I recall was the magic and-and sludge fighting. It felt twisted and wrong. Still does, if I focus on it."

As he paused in explaining, trying to think of a better way to describe the thing in his scar, Godric spoke up. "And how'd it break open when you were in the loch?"

He sighed, still not happy with what had happened in the watery depths. "The sludge reacted to a mermaid's enthralling song."

"Reacted? How?" Evander asked, shifting forward in interest.

"Pain. It felt like a sharp, particularly painful headache." Salazar glanced over at them all before he admitted in a quiet, small voice. "I don't know what it is."

Omorose rumbled against him. She pressed her face into one of his hands and purred. Salazar looked down at her and something just settled in him. He rubbed at her chin in his hands and she purred louder. He looked back up at his kin and kith.

His dead companions sat in various positions with grim baring. Brows were furrowed in thought. Helga had a small pile of destroyed grass before her, her hands working on shredding another grassy leaf that her glare had not destroyed. Rowena and Evander had moved closer together, hands entwined and heads tilted close as they muttered to each other. Hardwin had his arms folded across his chest as he sat straight backed, eyes closed as he considered all Salazar had said. Salazar glanced at Godric and found a deep frown written across the young face also but hazel eyes were locked on Salazar.

He hesitated but added as he met Godric's gaze, "I have not dared interact with it. I didn't wish to...not until I had a chance to discuss it with all of you."

Godric shifted over and reached out. Salazar closed his eyes as his brother pressed two fingers against his brow and the scar. At first, it was just his hand but, after a few minutes, the warmth of his magic pulsed out of his fingertips.

The pause between physical and magical touch likely stemmed from Godric's temporary handicap. No one said anything about the delay, though. They had all day if need be. That was one of the reasons Salazar summoned them the first instance he could instead of the end of the day like last time when he waited until his relatives wouldn't notice his absence.

Smoke of burning wood and the tang of pinesap filled his nose and mouth. His face grew warm, toasted by fire. The crackle of a campfire whispered across his ears. He was consumed by the sensory manifestation of Godric's magic as his brother slowly, carefully, pushed a tiny amount of his magic into the scar. Something shifted. Godric's magic pressed further in, closer to the sludge. It shifted again.

He jerked back with a sharp intake of breath as pain stabbed through his head. His hand flew up. He blinked his eyes open, and tried to blink the tears away.

Salazar pulled back his hand and stared. Blood. It had reopened. Again.

He looked up at Godric. His brother glared at the ground, his deep frown seemed sharper.

Omorose butted her head to his leg. Salazar wiped his blood across a sleeve before he rested his hands on her back and gave long strokes. She rolled about, tail smacking Salazar's face and neck until he lightly scratched her round tummy instead. All the while, he tried to ignore the growing headache throbbing out from his scar and the feel of warm blood trickling down from it.

"Godric," prompted Master Hardwin, pulling Salazar's attention from his cat, "what did you sense?"

His brother offered after a moment more of silence, "It is insidious, whatever it is."

"Are you certain?" demanded Rowena, "This is not your specialty–" Evander tugged her against his side. Salazar was quite certain it wasn't anyone's specialty.

Godric looked up at their fellow founder with a furrowed brow, entirely used to Rowena's foot-stuck-in-mouth syndrome when she was gnawing at a research project. "It allowed my magic near...It was harmless and interacted playfully with my magic even. Then it attacked as if it had decided I was an easy target." He turned to Master Hardwin as he added, "But, even with that, I don't think it intelligent. Instinctive, maybe...Reactive. Just reacting with craftiness...which I suppose is a sign of intelligence but... it's...I don't know."

Hardwin didn't look convinced. The master druid turned to Salazar and asked, "What did it feel like just now?"

"I felt a shift, movement of something, and pain. My head throbs from it." Salazar answered.

"And compared to when the mermaid sang?"

Salazar frowned as he considered the question. "The same...more intense, I suppose."

Evander jumped in with a raised brow and clear skepticism. "You suppose?"

He sighed before he elaborated, "I was hit on the head soon after. I cannot say with certainty that all the pain I recall was from the scar."

"Hmmm..." escaped Hardwin as the man rose and began to pace.

"It is not much to go on," groused Helga, "I am uncertain I will be much help with this…"

"Less than much," agreed Rowena with a snap of annoyance, entirely ignoring the slight to the other woman. It was possible Rowena had meant it an insult or, instead, she was agreeing with the information being lacking. "If only we were living. The tests and experiments we could attempt…"

Godric hesitantly spoke up. One had to always hesitate before offering help with an experiment Rowena was interested in. "I could write down the tests you want done and we can attempt them."

The various spirits shook their heads. "Mine would require a master druid to complete," Hardwin explained as he paused in his pacing, "Salazar knows of the tests I would do but they cannot be done on the caster."

"And mine, a healer," added Evander.

The two ladies shared a look before Hegla said carefully, "Your magic...Godric–"

"I wasn't saying we'd attempt them now." Godric snapped out. His frustration over his situation seeped into his voice. The air grew hot in a sudden burst of air movement. He took a sharp breath even as Hardwin snapped toward him with widened eyes. Godric was calmer as he said, "Eventually, I–we would be able to attempt them, with enough research and study of the processes. I am not some fool child happy to do a ritual or spell without proper care and consideration."

Salazar rested a hand on his brother's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He turned to the dead and said, "There must be something else we can do until we are magically mature enough to handle attempting those tests."

"You are unlikely to find any of the spells I have thought of anyhow," Helga said apologetically, "All the information you would have is what I recall."

"And you know the memory of summoned spirits has been proven to be incomplete." Hardwin reminded them all as he paced. "We are but afterimages of our living selves. Memories blur and fade. Knowledge is lost as we separate ourselves from the living world...so many things do not matter in the afterlife that did here. The danger is too great under the circumstances. Another route must be found and you both must mature more, physically."

"More waiting," scoffed Godric but he didn't say anything else.

The grove fell silent as they all considered the issue. There had to be something that could be done. Between all their minds and skills, they should be able to find answers.

Rowena was the one who offered a different avenue. "Investigate what occurred that night, when you received that scar."

Hardwin paused in his pacing and pivoted towards Salazar. "Yes," he said as he stared at Salazar's forehead, "It looks like a result of some ritual–"

"It is," Salazar said. He shifted in his spot on the ground as he attempted to not squirm at his master's expression. "The purification ritual informed me of what was remov–"

"It informed you?" The master druid stalked closer. "Has it always informed you?"

Salazar paused at the demand. His thoughts stilled for a second as he processed the question and then it scattered as he tried to recall his past life's experience. It was a monthly ritual he had done most of his life. He couldn't recall any particular detail of interest. "I...don't know." Salazar looked back up at Hardwin. "Is it not supposed to?"

"I have never heard of such, no."

"Familia magicks?" Rowena offered with clear interest, "You have never noted any Slytherin magicks before."

"His parseltongue," Helga offered up.

"Cannot be a House of Slytherin ability." sniffed out Rowena. "He had the ability before he was made a member of a House of the Isles. There should be some form of House magicks created once the Isles accepted the House...I meant this time, in this life he has yet to show more skill than in the past. There should be more...This would be a fascinating ability to develop."

"And one more likely to come about from centuries of family-focused specialization," countered Evander, "The Potters are a Familia. They would have their own family magicks, too."

Godric jumped in, seeing the exact same danger as Salazar. Rowena and her husband could spend days, weeks, debating such a topic. "You were saying, Sally."

Salazar startled, honestly interested in the debate and not expecting Godric to distract by dragging him into the middle of it. His thoughts had wandered while they had debated. He thought over everything he had done and felt and had come up blank on anything particularly unusual magically. But would he notice it when the skills were naturally part of him? Would he notice the signs before the skillset fully manifested itself? If it did on its own, that is.

"Sally?"

He jerked his head over towards Godric and nodded. "Right. Yes...It-The purification, that is, informed me of residue from an old ritual...old for this lifetime." Salazar frowned as he tried to recall. He rubbed at his forehead, smearing the small amount of blood across his hand distractedly. "There were...details-the sun–"

"Have you investigated your mental abilities?" Evander asked in concern as he rose up and paused, hand moving to the bag at his waist where he kept his healing concoctions. His frown twisted with frustration and he added jabbingly, "With your mastery of the mental arts, you have never had such difficulty recalling details before."

Salazar turned from his thoughts to scowl at the man. That had been dangerously close to accusing Salazar of going senile. He was eleven, or sixty-something—neither particularly old.

Rowena came to Salazar's defense with a sniff and a short explanation, "The mental arts are delicate and dangerous. Salazar should not delve back into the skill set until he has passed his fourteenth name day, at least. Not to the extent he once had, at least. His telepathy is a good place to start and stay for a few years."

"Fourteenth?" demanded Salazar, the conversation entirely derailed for him, "I thought thirteenth–"

"A male's magical growth is slower than a female's. You see it in all magical beings and creatures. Unless you have a way to determine the magical maturity of your core, it would be best to wait till after your fourteenth name day...Unless, of course, some intellect has confirmed otherwise." Rowena countered, the last statement held a hint of arrogance and a great deal of disbelief at the idea of someone else having concluded differently from herself.

She shifted the conversation before anyone felt like pushing her buttons (something they all did at times, simply to force a smidge of humility back into the intelligent woman), "We are getting off-topic, though. I did not mean those forms of details, interesting as they would be. Your parents should have consulted someone, and researched the ritual they used from somewhere. You must expand your investigation from school books and ruminations with Helena."

Salazar turned thoughtful at the demand.

Godric helpfully added as he sat back, right arm brushed against Salazar's left. "If it's a ritual, you're unlikely to find it in the library. At least not the main part since most rituals were outlawed for so long. Your parents would have had to know someone in an old family willing to keep that type of information around, too."

"That...makes sense," Salazar agreed grudgingly before he stated in complaint, "but the only person I know of is my traitorous godfather. He's in jail. Everyone else I've heard of are from ridiculous newspaper articles that are more gossip than truth. I doubt any of those people were true friends or confidants of my parents...I guess my father's family might have stored that type of information somewhere also but everyone insists the Potter Family was as–" Here Salazar sat up and made air quotes with his hands. "–'Good and light' as any family can apparently come."

"It sounds like you have a starting point," Helga said, pleased.

Salazar flashed an annoyed look over at her because really, that had not been helpful in the least. Godric seemed to agree with Helga though if his pleased expression was any indication. Salazar offered his brother the same look.

When he noticed Salazar's annoyance, Godric rolled his eyes and stated, "You aren't really going to let a measly jail get in your way, are you?"

"What you're saying is illeg–" Salazar paused in his snarky reply—doing illegal things and discussing doing them were two entirely different matters. One was far easier to hide than the other.—A sort of gong had revibrated from his magical core. It took a second for Salazar to place what that meant. Then he sprang up and ran towards the grove's entrance. Omorose hissed in annoyance as she sprang from his lap at his sudden movements.

"Sally!"

"The spider ward triggered!" He shouted back at his brother, knowing Godric would connect the dots. The notification wards were pinging in his mind. Something was headed to Hogwarts from the direction of the acromantula nest. His satchel slapped against the back of his thighs as he ran. That grove was on the opposite side of the forest and castle. The loch was also in the way, forcing the invaders—there were two of very different sizes—to go around. They'd have time to intercept them.

Godric caught up soon after they reached the broken wall and entered Hogwarts Proper. "Dammit man!" His brother sprinted up to his side as they headed in the general direction of the southwestern inner wall, the loch was in the way for a straight shot. "We could have used a portkey." Huffed out the Gryffindor founder.

Salazar glanced at his brother as he tried to recall what a portkey was. He got nothing, just that Godric had difficulty creating one at one point.

"Portkeys are a Normandy creation." offered Helga as she came up to his other side. She was floating instead of running. Helga was also ever so slightly transparent, like the first time he had called her on Samhain the year before.

She added, seemingly unworried that she had lost the ability to affect the world around her, "Salazar was long gone by the time we accepted the use of them."

Godric grumbled at that fact.

Salazar guided Godric and ghosts around the loch, the two now jogging more than sprinting. The entire group fanned out as they searched the grassy grounds and water's edge for anything moving in the dark. The further from Hogwarts, the slower they went.

Godric's hand snapped out in front of Salazar, stopping him as they reached the curve of the loch—following it would lead them back north, towards the spider-infested grove. Just south was Hogsmeade, which was closer than Hogwarts at this point.

Green eyes snapped to Godric and followed the hazel gaze to a twelve-foot, gray monstrosity slowly lumbering across the lawn. Moonlight reflected off the spittle around its mouth, otherwise, the dark cloaked it well. Salazar brushed a finger to one of his glasses temples, brightening the crescent moon's light for better sight.

It had been an age since Salazar had seen a mountain troll. He wasn't happy watching it lumber over to a copse of trees by the loch. He was even less happy at the sight of a wizard, the defense professor of all people, directing it. They could hear the order to hide—there was no stutter.

"At least it is not a pack of man-eating spiders," whispered Evander helpfully before he faded into a bush at the water's edge.

Salazar held up his yew wand to Godric. "I'll take point."

Godric took the wand and twirled it between his fingers. "Right...gives me time to collect myself. Don't do anything stupid."

"Me? Stupid?"

"You're going to do something stupid, aren't you?" Godric sighed.

Salazar glanced at his brother, and then back to the wizard and the troll, and admitted, "Yes. We are eleven after all."

Godric sighed but crouched down and ran towards some cover. The Gryffindor vanished into the dark. Salazar pulled off his satchel and tossed it behind a rock. It would only get in the way.

He closed his eyes and focused inwards. Nature magic still flowed through him within easy reach to use if needed. He didn't grasp any now. The resulting glow was too much of a giveaway. Slytherin opened his eyes, took a steadying breath, and walked towards the odd couple.

Once he estimated he was close enough, he shouted out in concern and horror to his professor, "Troll! Sir, troll!"

Professor Quirrell snapped his head up in surprise. "Potter, what are you d-d-doing out at this time?"

"I–Sir, there's a troll!" gasped Salazar, giving a decent act of a terrified, though brave, first year.

The troll helpful responded with a snarl and the lifting of its large club. The professor shot a spell at the creature, causing it to stumble back, shaking the earth as its large tree trunk-like legs slammed across the ground.

Quirrell explained, "Now, now...This is for a class, P-P-Potter. As for your wand-d-derings after curfew, thirty p-p-points fro–"

"Kill him."

Salazar stepped back, startled. He searched for the source of the voice but there was only Quirrell and the troll. The professor, while also startled, responded, "My Lord, are you–"

"Make it look like the troll killed him."

At that, Quirrell snapped his wand at Salazar and shouted, "Confringo!"

Salazar dived out of the way. The blasting curse ripped up the ground he had been standing on. Dust and rock and dirt explode up into the air.

More spells flew out through the cloud of earth. Salazar rolled as one came dangerously close. The sounds of earth ripping up and rocks flying, and the vibrations from the spells hitting the ground kept Salazar at a disadvantage. He could not see either Quirrell or the troll. He very much doubted he'd notice the troll charge his way with the shaking of the ground from the spellfire.

Magic slammed too close for comfort. A shrapnel of rock sliced his cheek as Salazar scrambled across the ground, hoping he was running away from Quirrell's aim. There had to be something he could do. Illusions were no help if there was dirt flying from the sky. He doubted his pendant would work against a homicidal adult.

Salazar threw himself onto the ground as a particularly large rock ricocheted toward him. Subtle action wasn't going to be useful at all.

He glared at the large rock as it crashed into the earth and mentally yanked it back into a bounce. Another blasting curse whirled out of the dust cloud. Salazar sent the rock in the direction the spell had originated from.

"Potter!"

Salazar smirked.

The troll's club swung down at him through the dust cloud. He scrambled back and snapped a hand up, mentally pushing back against the block of wood. It slowed and he groaned at the effort.

Twin beams of light shot over Salazar's shoulder. One hit the troll with little effect. The other hit the club, sending it wide and pulling it from Salazar's mental grasp, but also splintering it. The blunt object became a jagged stake.

"Shit!" yelped a voice.

A dumbfounded expression was on the troll's face as it leaned out of the dust cloud to stare at its club. Its dull eyes swiveled from the spiked club down to Salazar. Spellfire illuminated its eyes and made the clouds of disperse glow. Someone was fighting Quirrell. That someone had to be Godric which meant he couldn't have been the person to attack the troll.

Salazar backed away from the confused twelve-foot troll and glanced over his shoulder. The Weasley twins stood with their wands pointed at the large, magic-resistant creature.

"Shield!" came a sharp order.

He followed on instinct, recognizing Master Hardwin's voice. Salazar turned back to the troll and smacked his palms together before flicking his hands out, open-palmed and fingers spread. A large, highly complex runic array rippled into appearance in front of him. It unfolded and curved until it covered three-fourths of the area around him. Ogham, futhark, hieroglyphs, and hisab al-jummal glowed in a detailed curving square split into four triangles.

His head spun at the idiotic move. A burning, tearing sensation spread across his chest as he pushed his core. He was not fit to create such a shield. Not yet.

The splintered club stabbed into the barrier. It splintered further from the force of the swing. Whole chunks of sharp and splintered wood dropped to the ground. Spittle splattered over the shield as the troll roared and swung harder again and again. Each failed hit made it angrier but it was too dumb to do anything else. It was hitting the barrier hard enough to push it into the ground and send shakes through the earth.

Salazar could only focus on keeping the shield up. Once, a lifetime ago, he could have done more but a shield capable of withstanding such physical force was no easy feat. He felt like throwing up, like he wasn't getting enough air.

A few spells started shooting out at the troll once more. It pulled the troll's attention from Salazar. Salazar cursed. The troll spotted the two third-year boys and took a lumbering step toward them. Helga rose from the ground between them with a glare. Her sudden appearance startled the dimwitted creature into backing up.

Salazar dropped the shield and, with a pissed-off hiss, mentally grabbed the jagged pieces of the troll's club scattered across the ground. They rose on command and flew right into the troll's face. Purple blood splattered the ground and Salazar. Wood stuck to its face, covering it like sharp porcupine needles.

The lumbering creature staggered back with a roar. Its hands flailed about, knocking blood-splattered pieces of wood to the ground and pushing others more firmly into its face.

Salazar hissed sharp commands in parsel and the wood splinters glowed green. Thin whip-like branches explode out of the shrapnel and sprouted aspen leaves. A few branches exploded out the back of the troll's head.

The troll swayed. Its club fell from its hands. Then it dropped, shaking the area as it hit the ground.

He turned back towards the twins but stumbled. The world spun and shook in his vision. It took a dangerous length of time for his eyes to focus and the world to still. He was kneeling on the ground. One of the twins stood before him, sweat sliding down his pale, freckled face and wand extended with a circular shield charm flickering in front of him. The troll was slumped, dead where it had fallen a few feet away. Quirrell had his back to them. The other twin knelt behind Godric as his brother dueled the defense professor.

Spells flowed from the yew wand in Godric's hand. The spell chaining he had been known for a thousand years ago was effective as it kept the adult on the defensive. Quirrell wasn't particularly skilled which was also helpful.

Godric should have defeated him by now, even with his handicap.

Salazar wanted to smack himself as he came to the painfully delayed realization that he and the Weasley were in Godric's line of fire. His brother wouldn't send anything particularly dangerous until they moved.

"Weasley," Salazar called out.

The redhead didn't react.

A snarling scream filled the air as a spelled arrow hit Quirrell's shoulder. The scream came from the man, but not from his mouth. "Let me see! I would see the fools who attack me!"

"But master, your strength!" Quirrell responded to the voice as he threw a protego out, crouched behind it (it was that poorly cast), and paused.

Usually, Godric would have destroyed the man during such a pause. If Godric didn't, Salazar would have but he felt wrung out. And his brother had paused also. Eleven-year-olds weren't built for battle.

Salazar glanced at Godric. Sweat trickled down the blond's face. His hair was plastered onto his scalp. He was white as a sheet. His eyes were also closed as he took in slow, steadying breaths.

Godric's Weasley rose and stepped between Quirrell and the founder, took up a similar stance as his brother before Salazar, and cast his own protego. Like his brother, his shield charm flickered as he struggled with the complicated spell.

Children would not defend them, they should not have to.

Salazar mentally reached out to the Mother's magic, knowing it would be as painful as trying to use his core but in a different way. He could feel the golden magic swirling through him but he couldn't focus enough to grasp it.

"I am well enough for this," insisted the voice, "I would see the boy before he is killed."

"As you wish, Master," Quirrell said before he tossed off his turban and stood to twist around. There was a face on the back of Quirrell's head. The little, slow spin gave the face a chance to see the general combatants until it landed on Salazar.

"Harry Potter," said the face. The voice had changed slightly, being less muffled with the turban gone. A leer stretched the strange face as its red eyes took in the eleven-year-old's bloodied appearance. "We meet once more, for the last time. Today will be remembered as the day you fell by my hands and the day I returned to power. With the philosopher's stone, I will be unstoppable."

Salazar stared in horror at the thing. He couldn't think of anything to say to its announcement, either. He didn't plan on dying. It seemed mildly anticlimactic to say that though.

Neither did he have anything particular to say about the mythical philosopher's stone beyond a general 'Someone actually did it? And they haven't taken over the world, ruined entire civilizations, or destroyed commerce? Good on them. Rowena will be green with envy.' That would likely annoy the attached head-thing. Under the current circumstances, that didn't seem like a good idea.

"Expelliarmus!" A scarlet light slammed into Quirrell.

The professor's wand shot out of his hand and into the loch. The world slowed as everyone glanced at the caster, the twin standing before Godric. He looked as shocked as they all felt.

Then the face on the back of Quirrell's head screamed, "Kill him!" at the same time Quirrell wailed, "My wand!"

Quirrell ran two steps towards the loch before he jerked to a stop. A spasm traveled through his form. The four children stared. When the spasm ended, he pivoted about and, with an unnatural focus, locked gazes with Salazar and sprinted forward, hands stretched out. The man crossed the distance within a second or two. Salazar had time to try and stand.

His Weasley guard flicked a trembling wand at the charging professor. Sparks flew out. Quirrell backhanded the boy. Then he crashed into Salazar at full speed.

Air was shoved out of his lungs. Pain stabbed across his back. Salazar's head cracked against the ground. The world spun. Hands wrapped around his neck and squeezed. He couldn't breathe.

Everything blurred as he was suffocated. His head roared with agony. The edge of his sight began to fade. Everything seemed to sear and tingle as he fought to breathe. He fought on instinct and desperation, unable to think clearly enough to do more.

Something slammed into Quirrell. A weight was lifted off him.

Air, sweet and wonderful air—he could breathe.

He blinked tear-filled eyes and stared up into the night sky. It took a moment to clear his head and realize—Quirrell was gone.

Hands grasped his arms. Salazar blinked up at one of the twins. The boy's blue eyes were round and his face had very little color in it, his freckles stood out in sharp contrast. Nostalgia hit him, though he was vaguely aware he shouldn't be thinking about this right now. The Weasley looked so much like Godric had in their first life.

Weasley helped pull him up. The world tilted for a second.

Godric was straddling the struggling professor, his hands covered in tiny, vibrant flames. One was pressed against the man's mouth, muffling his screams even as the flames burned him. With his other hand, Godric was attempting to reach the attached head that was being squished into the ground.

The Slytherin founder struggled to focus. He should get up and help his brother but all he could do was watch. His head hurt so much. He had never had such a horrible headache—and that was saying something.

A cloud of shadow shot out of Quirrell with an unearthly scream and Godric fell forward as his hand suddenly fell through a very dead, very decomposed head. The rest of the body began to crumble.

That was the last Salazar saw before the cloud slammed into him. The world imploded after that. Or maybe it was just his head.

oooP2ooo

(Neville)

Godric watched helplessly as the cloud slammed into his brother. He relaxed slightly when the cloud didn't stay but continued through Sally and fled the area. Evander's words allowed him to relax fully.

"Poor man was possessed." The rest of the spirits came out of the woodworks, so to speak. "Salazar and you went through a ritual to protect against such, did you not?"

"Yes," croaked out Godric. It was probably why the spirit seemed to jerk right back out of his brother.

"I want to know why no adults came from the school," said Hardwin as he glared into the distance. "Children came to investigate but no adults?"

"We are far from the school, Master Hardwin," Hegla explained, "No one should have heard any of this, not unless they were already outside. At this time of night, none should be outside."

Master Hardwin turned towards the Weasley twins as he demanded, "Then how did they come? They should have been in bed."

Godric struggled up and stumbled over to his unconscious brother, content to let the spirits figure out the particulars. The Weasley twins were visibly in shock, though. They couldn't seem to keep their eyes away from the decomposing Quirrell or the dead troll. He forced his arm to obey and lifted the yew wand up. He needed to at least try and check over his brother.

"No, no, no," snapped Evander as he stuck his head into Godric's view, "I will not allow you. You can barely cast healing magic at the best of times. You will not point that wand anywhere near Salazar."

"Oh, Godric you know better." Helga shook her head in disappointment as she also stepped between him and Salazar. "You are not in any condition to do such spells anyway."

Evander waved his hand at one of the twins, "Boy, child. Redhead?" Nothing drew either shocked child from their respective stupor. Evander turned to Godric and asked, "Their names?"

"Fred. George. Weasley." Godric croaked out as he settled down beside Salazar. He felt ready to pass out right beside him too.

Evander still could not get the boy's attention so Helga took a try. "George Weasley!" She snapped out, a clear sign of her worry. For whatever reason, it worked. One of the boys jerked at her voice and turned to her. "Over here now."

George, as the twins were too out of it to play their name-switching game, stumbled over to the Hufflepuff founder. "Ma'am?" He stuttered out.

Evander waved at the boy as he took over and said, "I need you to pull out your wand and follow my instructions."

"Wha–"

"We need to know his condition. You will be casting a visualized diagnostic spell. It will allow us, who can understand the results, to review it." Evander stared hard at George. "Do you understand?"

"Ye-yes sir," George stuttered out, eyes now round.

"Good, now focus."

It took a few tries but the redheaded boy successfully cast the spell. It wasn't a simple spell but George didn't need to know that. In his state, the poor boy would have likely convinced himself that he couldn't do it. Then they would have had to drag Salazar to the hospital wing and that would have opened a whole other pot of frogs.

"Mostly magical exhaustion. Some physical strain from overusing magic and stretching his core too far." Evander stated as he reviewed the visual markers. "See here." He pointed at the vibrant red and orange glow centered at Sally's chest. "That is what it means, extreme magical exhaustion and strain. These minor green lines are muscle strain. The yellow are actual cuts. Nothing more than deep scratches in this case. His clothes are hiding most of them. The worst is on his cheek...There is also his neck, which is not very good but could be worse. One of the House elves should be able to give us something for the swelling. He should avoid speaking for a few days though."

"And his head?" George asked quietly.

"An extremely bad migraine...with his runic scar being the source, for the most part. The attempted possession likely caused some of it also."

George stared and licked his lips with clear nerves. "His scar?"

"Cast the diagnostics spell at Godric." Evander evaded the question with his usual lack of finesse. The thirteen-year-old obeyed all the same. Unsurprisingly, Godric had similar colors in similar places with the exception of the headache and the neck.

Evander nodded, relieved. "They will live."

"Good," Rowena stated.

A quiet voice broke through the group. "You-you're Rowena Ravenclaw. And Helga Hufflepuff."

George was at his brother's side before the rest could properly react. Fred Weasley had a worn piece of parchment unfolded in his hands, one Godric had seen before. The usually boisterous redhead glanced between the parchment and the various ghosts.

"It's not broken," Fred breathed out, "It's not broken, George!" Blue eyes snapped up from the parchment and zeroed onto Godric. "You really are Godric Gryffindor!"

Hardwin floated up behind the twins and took a long look at the parchment. "That could be dangerous in the wrong hands."

The boys jumped, apparently too distracted by their revelation to have realized his presence. The parchment was quickly folded and stuffed into Fred's robe pocket. "It's nothing!"

The head druid raised a brow at that. "A magical map of Hogwarts that shows where and who people are is not nothing, child."

Godric frowned at that. "You've known who Sally and I are for over a month now."

"No," grumbled out George, his cheeks aflame, "We thought it was broken. It showed Harry Potter as Salazar Slytherin and then as Salazar Potter and then Harry Slytherin and sometimes just Sally or Papa Sally or just Papa. It kept-keeps changing. Yours only started to do that earlier this month when your accent changed and all."

"That's when it became Godric Gryffindor and Godric Longbottom and Neville Gryffindor and Papa Rie. Sometimes it showed Salazar Harry and Godric Neville," added Fred defensively, "See, broken."

"Except not." Hardwin reminded the boys.

The twins glanced at each other before they slumped and Fred quietly agreed as he stuffed his hands into his robe pockets, "No, not broken."

"You will allow Salazar and Godric possession of the map," Rowena ordered with her arms crossed in front of her, "They will decide what to do with it."

"Perhaps," Helga said at their sad twin faces, "they will be able to return it after reviewing it."

"Or not," croaked Godric, "We'll have to see."

Evander joined the conversation but turned it back to their investigation, "You were looking at the map when this happened. You came to investigate?"

The twins turned red and ducked their heads.

Godric grew grumpy, on top of exhausted, as he realized what they had seen. "You saw me chasing Salazar across the grounds. You thought that you would witness proof of the story about us."

George glanced up. "Sorry. It's just...we grew up learning about the conflict between you two."

"That is the other reason you thought the map was broken. If Godric and Salazar had argued away their friendship, why would they appear friends now?" sighed Helga.

Neither twin said anything at that, Fred just scuffed a shoe across the ripped-up ground and George mirrored his brother's position by stuffing his hands into the pockets of his own robe and slumping his shoulders. The lack of words confirmed her conclusions.

"Did you notice anything about this professor on the map?" Hardwin asked the twins, "Perhaps there was an oddity with his name also?"

Fred looked up with a shake of his head. "Sorry...we were distracted with...with them." He tilted his chin out at Godric and the still unconscious Salazar. "We would have told someone though. We'd not have ignored You-Know-Who appearing on the parchment."

"You-Know-Who?" Helga repeated blankly, not understanding the reference any more than the rest of them.

"The dark wizard that Harry Potter–err, Salazar Slytherin defeated? As a baby?" Fred explained.

Rowena demanded what they all were wondering. "How did you reach that conclusion?"

The twins shared a long look before George offered hesitantly, "The head said they had met before. How many possessing heads has Salazar Slytherin met as Harry Potter?"

"Yeah, he clearly called him Harry Potter, not Salazar Slytherin," added Fred.

Evander asked, "And that means it has to be this You-Know-Who?"

"Well, if I was a possessing head and I knew Harry Potter was Salazar Slytherin, I wouldn't bother calling him Harry Potter," Fred explained with one of those 'are you an idiot' tones children were so skilled at.

"Which means the possessed head only knows him–" George pointed over at Salazar. "–as Harry Potter. And, unless all those adventure books are true, Harry Potter has only met one dark wizard before."

Fred continued the explanation, "The head did say he'd return to power tonight. That means he wasn't always a possessing head..spirit-thing. Heads are usually attached to bodies. I mean, normal like–one head per body."

"So, he must have planned on getting a body in his 'return to power' spiel," concluded George, "and we don't want that so we would have told someone if we had noticed his name being on there."

Rowena appeared greatly pained as she rubbed at her forehead. Evander looked slightly mystified. Hardwin was thoughtful. Helga was nodding. Godric felt like he was on the verge of a headache.

"From the mouths of babes," Helga announced as she had followed their explanation, understood the various jumps of logic, and concluded that the boys knew what they were talking about.

Godric groaned.

Hardwin changed the topic. "Where would we find this philosopher's stone?"

oooP3ooo

Godric stumbled through the hidden passage from the ground floor to the third, hand-clenching Salazar's wand even though he doubted he could so much as create a spark at the moment. His footsteps echoed across the stone floor but he couldn't care less if anyone heard him. It was bloody two or three in the morning, he was covered in the dust of a corpse, dirt, sweat, and blood.

There was a battle scene outside he needed to take care of. Salazar should probably be taken to a healer but wasn't because they couldn't reveal the bullshit that has happened nor their reincarnated status. And he needed to think up what to do with the Weasley twins.

He wasn't dealing with any of that at the moment. No, instead he was going to the forbidden hallway that could cause a most painful death, whatever the fuck that meant. He wasn't convinced that he should be the one doing this but Sally was unconscious and the other option were two traumatized thirteen-year-olds. He was the only option. And it was best to take care of this issue before anyone woke up and found the dead troll and professor.

Removing the stone now would have everyone tying its loss to the missing professor instead of a student and they could then have time to figure out what to do with it. You-Know-Who, or whoever the spirit was, would have no reason to return if the stone was publicly gone.

The others better figure out how to tie this all up nice and pretty by the time he got back, Godric grumbled internally, Neither Salazar nor he needed murder charges placed on them.

The dark hallway was filled with shadows that stretched and shifted from the luminescent glow his ghostly companion gave off. His exhausted mind twisted the changes into enemies or, worse, Mrs. Norris. He was on the verge of jumping at each change, he was so tired. Only Helga's quiet presence kept him from doing so. If he had been wandering alone, he knew he'd be fighting paranoia from sleep deprivation.

Filch finding him right now would be the icing on this sour ass cake. He wouldn't be here if the headmaster wasn't bloody senile—Dumbledore had to be to put children in danger like this. If only Helga could follow through with her threat of haunting the insane old fool. What headmaster, what person sworn to the care of children, did such a thing?

How had Salazar left it as is? He would be demanding some answers after a long fucking nap.

Godric found the right corridor and paused as he took in the large locked door that sealed the third-floor corridor away from the rest of the school. The Weasley twins had admitted to taking a look through it because just an alohomora unlocked it. (A goddamn, fucking first-year spell.) Behind the door was a bloody purebred Greek cerberus.

Gryffindor looked up and met Helga's transparent eyes.

His cousin-in-law straightened and stated firmly, "Give me a minute." Then she floated through the locked door.

He waited the requested minute before a thought came to mind and he whispered, "Hogwarts, a door if you could?"

The wall shifted. A second door appeared beside the locked one. Godric stepped through. He tightened his hold on Sally's yew wand, prepared to attempt to use it even though he had been told under no circumstances to actually use magic. He wasn't convinced he could follow Evander's orders at the moment but he felt shitty enough to try.

Helga was singing a lullaby he had heard her sing to all her children and his. It was depressing. It shouldn't be but all those children were dead so it was so fucking depressing right now.

The three-headed dog was snoring in a corner. Godric had never actually seen a cerberus before. He had always assumed pots that showed the creatures twice the size of the human had been artistic license. It wasn't. The creature was enormous, easily taller than the troll. Being eaten alive was suddenly a very real possibility.—Which would be a very painful death as Dumbledore apparently warned the school.

A trap door, which the twins hadn't known about, could be seen under one of the dog's feet. There were no other doors. The founder stumbled over to it and spent a good ten minutes fighting his exhausted, strained muscles until the dog helpfully moved his paw and the door flew open with a bang.

The cerberus startled, its heads jerked up from its sleep. Six eyes blinked sleepily about. One settled its gaze on Helga. The other two spotted Godric.

Godric jumped before the dog could react. His stomach rose to his throat as he fell. The only light was coming from the trapped door above which kept growing dimmer as the three-headed dog tried to stick a muzzle through it a few times. The square light got smaller and smaller and smaller. Panic fluttered up teasingly. He was not made for flying, had never been made for flying. Godric preferred to keep his feet firmly on the ground.

His panic didn't rise further as he continued to fall, though. Some type of magic was keeping his rate of fall just at the edge of falling instead of floating. It was a rather odd decision by the protectors of this philosopher's stone but he couldn't really complain since it meant he didn't have to use any magic to protect himself at impact. He just had to make sure he landed feet first and attempt a roll.

The trap door was a square small enough for his hand to cover when he landed on something soft and viney. Godric rolled as best he could on the odd surface. He tried to sit up but the vines he was trying to climb over were wiggling away from him.

A distant bark was followed by the dog knocking the trap door shut. He grimaced. Godric couldn't see a damn thing. All he could feel was the viney material wiggling away from him and the cold of a stone floor. He was about to attempt a lumos when Helga floated in and illuminated a long, thin hallway with her silver supernatural glow.

"You alright?" she asked.

"Peachy," Godric grumbled as he took in the viney material. He was surrounded by a devil's snare growing from the walls and floors of the corner of a hallway he had fallen into. Professor Sprout had shown a tiny version of the plant in class. Amusement hit him as some further facts whispered to the forefront of his mind. The plant liked the dark, the moist, and the cold. Godric was naturally hotter than most people because of his elemental connection with fire. Instead of entangling him, the plant was fleeing from him.

The reincarnated man climbed to his feet, and worked his way through the wiggling, fleeing plant. It was difficult to walk over something moving. He asked as he tried to step between the vines, "Have you looked ahead?"

Helga shook her head as he stumbled about and said. "I thought it best to calm the poor dog down first. What's this then? Doesn't seem like much of a trap."

Godric huffed as he nearly fell over from one particularly large vine smacking him in the face in its attempt to flee. Once righted he explained grumpily, "It's just devil's snare. Nothing a well-studied child couldn't handle."

Helga didn't look convinced. "Terrible name for a harmless plant."

"Not harmless, just doesn't like warmth," Godric explained as he finally freed himself, "It usually wraps around its prey and strangles it to death." He looked up, saw her horrified expression, and added before she could repeat his claims about it being child's play, "It's a plant we've learned about in herbology already."

Helga pressed her lips together but nodded instead of saying anything more. She clearly wanted to say something but she knew better than to argue about children's safety in a situation like this. The woman would wait until after they dealt with the stone. Helga would worry no matter what he said right now, anyway. She was a worrier when someone she loved was hurt, and Godric and Salazar were both hurt.

They slowly traveled down the hall, Helga illuminating it as they went. Nothing stuck out as a trap but both traveled slowly just in case. Nothing about the protections for the stone made sense so far. Cerberus were known for their weakness to music, the fall had magic to protect him from hitting the ground too hard, and the devil's snare was a first-year plant.

There were no traps in the hall. The long, thin passage eventually grew lighter and the sound of something filtered in. It sounded vaguely like the flapping of wings. Light announced the end of the hallway. It opened into a circular room. Godric stilled as he stared. Helga peeked in also and frowned.

"What is this, an obstacle course?" she asked as the two stared up at the ceiling filled with swarms of flying keys. "Hogwarts can move rooms anywhere; can change their shapes and features, and even be set to reveal them to only specific people or after a specific password is used. Why connect all these little rooms together?"

"It is odd," Godric agreed, "It would have made more sense to place the stone in a windowless room under some enchantments to protect against scrying and have Hogwarts remove the door unless requested by a short list of trusted people."

Helga floated into the room and to a line of brooms. "There must be a point to all this." She looked up at the flying keys and chewed at her bottom lip thoughtfully. "It seems all staged, doesn't it? Salazar is very good on a broom this time around."

"What?" Godric asked as he slowly joined her, gaze keen on the keys in case the things were charmed to attack. They didn't stop their light circular dance near the ceiling.

"I was watching him the day you both had flying lessons," Helga glanced down at him. "You did terribly but Salazar stopped you from hurting yourself at least. He...he looked like he was born to fly."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Godric grumbled, stuffing his hands into his robe pockets, and finally putting the wand away. At this rate, he really doubted he'd need it. "Sally never liked flying. And, anyway, that doesn't mean this was set up for Salazar."

Helga looked thoughtful. "But it doesn't seem set up for an adult wizard either."

Godric shook his head and headed over to the door. "Let's just get the stone."

There was no point in this particular obstacle and Godric wouldn't be caught dead on one of those ball pinchers again. He wanted to leave as little evidence of his presence as possible, making the challenge even less interesting. A quiet request and another unlocked door was shifted into place beside the locked one. He stepped through and courteously held it open for Helga, though was distracted by the next room, and held the door open a good minute after she had passed.

The next room was his dueling hall. Godric scowled at the changes made to his room and the fact that this was what it was being used for. He should have insisted they search for it back when Salazar had claimed it was being used. That would have revealed this bizarre mess of challenges weeks ago.

Someone had filled it with a ridiculous-sized chessboard. The pieces were about the same size as the dead troll and simple in design with no faces carved into them. Black pieces were lined up before Helga and Godric while the white pieces faced them. Around the edges of the board were a horizontal line of letters and a vertical line of numbers.

"Oh, I do love chess!" Helga gushed out, "Do you think we need to play to the other side?"

Godric glared at the pieces, narrow-eyed. He stalked over and tried to step past a bishop and the counsellor. The two statues moved their arms in his way. "Probably," he grumbled as he stepped back.

Helga rose high into the air and looked about for a moment before she returned. "Well, do you think the white still starts? I don't see how to move them."

He rubbed his face, having no desire to do this. "I haven't the foggiest...children were playing it but I didn't pay their games any mind."

She frowned thoughtfully. "They move so…" Helga floated over to a rook and tapped it, her hand lightly sliding through its stone form. "Excuse me...Excuse me..."

The rook slowly, grinding across its square, turned toward her. The slight impression of a face was pressed into the upper part of the stone tower.

"Will you start playing now? We need to get on with it." Helga said.

The Rook slowly slid off the board and moved to a corner of the room. Helga turned to Godric wide-eyed. Her gaze turned from him to the rook and back. She waved him toward it and Godric rolled his eyes.

He walked over and tapped it lightly. "If she offended you–" Helga made an aggrieved sound at the idea. "–I do apologize but we need to get going...so...please get back on the board and start the game."

It didn't move. For all intents and purposes, Godric felt like he was talking to an inanimate wall of rock. He turned and gave Helga a look because she was the reason the thing wasn't where it was supposed to be in the first place.

She waved her hands at him in a go-on motion.

Godric turned back to the statue and patted it comfortingly. He muttered at it quietly so Helga wouldn't hear his next words. "I know women can be a tad...forceful at times but she was only asking a few questions. No harm, really."

It still made no motion.

He huffed in annoyance and pivoted back to the board. "Forget this. I'll just stand in its bloody place!"

The moment he settled onto the square, a white pawn moved—skipping the first line.

"That's cheating!" squawked Helga and shot up high into the air.

"Ah, fuck." Godric said at the same time.

"Godric!"

He glared up at her. "A thousand years, Helga."

She frowned down at him. "So?"

"The rules have clearly changed."(1)

"Oh." She paused and then made a face. "Well, fuck."

Godric snorted at her delicately stated curse word. "This is not going to be easy." He pushed on the pawn in front of him. "Move forward two."

The black pawn in front of Godric obeyed, skipping the first line also.

"You can't do that for the rest," Helga remarked as a white knight jumped over the pawn in front of it and stepped to its right.

"I think you're going to have to play the game," Godric agreed.

Helga hummed for a moment before she floated over to a pawn in front of the counselor and tapped its head. "Move forward two."

Between Godric and Helga, they figured out the new rules. They did succeed in the end, though they agreed that their competition seemed to become easier as time went on. Whether that was because the challenge was enchanted to allow them a win or because they learned the game's new rules quickly enough, they didn't know.

A troll was snoring in the next room. Helga kept watch as Godric snuck past. The troll didn't even twitch so Godric held the door open for Helga and slipped through. A little anticlimactic but Godric was enjoying his success at following the healer's orders to not use magic.

He groaned at the sight of a line of potion bottles, and enchanted flames that materialized over the two entrances when he closed the door. The door they wanted to go through had a black flame encompassing it and the way they had come was covered in a purple flame. There was a parchment laying before the line of bottles. It had a riddle written out. He was too exhausted to deal with this type of challenge.

Helga tutted and floated towards the other end. "Maybe if I go through it, the spellwork will stop? It might think my passage completes whatever challenge this is." She reached out. Her hand pressed against the wall. Something was keeping her from floating through.

"Hogwarts?" called Godric as Helga pouted at her hand. "A door, please?"

A moment passed and no door materialized. Someone had actually thought through this challenge.

Godric and Helga shared a look and then turned as one towards the bottles. The row was filled with seven very different looking bottles filled with different portions of liquid. None of the bottles looked the same. Some were tall, some were tiny. One was multiple bulbous shapes stacked on top of each other til a spout was formed at the top. The right end one was tall but round. Most were made of colored glass but two were clear. The liquids in the two clear bottles were the same color.

He glanced over the riddle and groaned, "Poison, wine, and a potion to get through the black fire and a different one to go through the purple one."

"I cannot read the riddle, Godric." Helga admonished.

"Right, of course." Godric said as he stiffened a yawn, "I'll read it as many times as you need...I don't think I'm going to be much help."

She nodded and Godric recited the riddle over and over as Helga floated back and forth before the bottles muttering parts and pieces.

"Two wines….left side are always the poison but there are three posions…" She tutted to herself with narrowed eyes. "First and last will not be for the black flame….second to the left and second to the right is the wine…"

Helga paused and glared at the bottles as she continued to mutter to herself, "We do not want the first nor the last, the second nor the second to last…Hmm… the third." The spirit turned to Godric. "Drink from the third bottle."

The living founder obliged, swallowing the little liquid the tiniest bottle offered. Seeing that he hadn't keeled over and died, Godric attempted to pass through the black flames. The potion allowed him through into a dead-end chamber. As he stepped through, the enchanted flames vanished and Helga was able to follow.

At first, the last room appeared empty, there wasn't even a door to continue on. The room seemed like one empty, useless, dead end. It was the sight of Helga floating around at an odd angle that led Godric to realize that part of the room, near a corner, was enchanted. He was able to walk straight through whatever enchantment though. It seemed the spellwork targeted disembodied and, hopefully, possessed beings.

A small table sat by the wall. A deep red stone rested on a fluffy pillow. Godric stared hard at the innocent-looking rock.

This was too easy.

It couldn't be this easy. He had used no magic, none at all. Admittedly, he had cheated by requesting a few doors from Hogwarts and his natural heat was considerably higher than normal because of his magic but still.

What was the headmaster playing at?

Godric scoped up the rock and left the enchanted section of the room. Hogwarts, without prompting, showed just how easy this could have been by shifting a door into one of the walls. An unused section of the dungeons, a few halls from the potion labs, stood on the other side.

The Gryffindor groaned as he realized how much time he had wasted. If only he had the bond Salazar had with the school. He was certain Hogwarts would have told him about this option if he had thought to ask or if she could see what he had wanted.

oooP4ooo

Salazar was still unconscious. The twins were being distracted by an interrogation from Rowena and Evander.—They would inform Salazar and him what to focus the twins on, what the boys' goals and best routes in life would be...even though no one asked them to do so.—Master Hardwin floated in the background listening in.

Godric shook his head and stumbled over to the group. Predawn colored the sky. They didn't have much time. Hopefully, someone had figured out what they should do about the bodies.

He pulled Salazar's satchel over and flipped it open.

"Do not!" cried Helga. Godric stilled with the red stone in hand. His cousin-in-law shook her head violently back and forth. "There are a great many enchantments on that bag. You do not want to place such a powerful artifact inside."

Godric slowly moved his hand away from the, apparently enchanted, bag.

"It would not be good." agreed Rowena as she turned from the twins. Her gaze fell to the stone and she lit up. "It would be excellent, in fact."

All of them, including the twins, stared at her incredulously.

She explained, shifting into a stance that implied it was time for a lecture, "The cross of powerful magic will cause a break within the enchantments' fabric of existence as it tries to incorporate the alchemy within the artifact. The interaction will be volatile...It should all collapse upon itself, leading to a wide area explosion, or implosion with parts of the surrounding being sucked into the whirlwind of magic."

Godric slowly pushed the bag further away.

Rowena clapped her hands together. "We need to move everyone to a safe distance and then levitate the stone into the bag. The resulting detonation will destroy any evidence present." She waved her arms out to include the partly destroyed area and corpses.

The twins turned green.

They all took in her words for a moment. It would solve a few issues, Godric decided, but it was not why Rowena was recommending it.

"You just want the stone destroyed since you didn't create it," Godric stated flatly.

Rowena's chin rose and she sniffed. "That is entirely beside the point."

Godric lifted an eyebrow. The Weasley twins ping-ponged their gaze between the two founders.

"Do you want this–" Rowena waved her transparent arms out to encompass the area. "–removed or not?"

He sighed. "Fine."

Helga clapped her hands together and cheerfully stated, "We will need to remove all Salazar's things."

"Could we do this without destroying his bag?" asked Evander quietly, "It is a nice bag."

"Well, if we had something of similar enchanted complexity, we could." huffed Rowena before she flicked imaginary dirt from her dress. "I do not see another enchanted object about. Do you?"

Master Hardwin snorted. "I'm sure you would find something in that castle of yours if you bothered looking around."

Godric closed his eyes for a moment as he considered everything. Of course, all his brain supplied was the desire to crash and sleep for a few days. "Bugger it. I'll buy him a new bag. One that won't randomly explode from adding an item to it. Mipsy."

A pop-click announced the House elf. A little hair net sat on her head and her outfit was a different pillowcase, one without a Hogwarts seal across it. Large sleepy eyes blinked about. At each blink, she visibly woke up. Mipsy began wringing her hands together as she took in the mess. "Ohh, Master Rie what a mess. I be cleaning it up now?" Her eyes jumped around the area as she took in the destroyed grounds over and over. She found and stilled at the sight of the troll.

"No," Godric said as he stood up with a groan and a stretch, "We're about to make it a bigger mess the headmaster will have to deal with. Could you do a few things for me?"

Mipsy snapped her gaze back to Godric and she gave a quick jerk of a nod.

"Could you remove all of Salazar's things from his bag and place it into his trunk? Then I–"

"Master Sally doesn't have a trunk."

Godric blinked a few times as he struggled to process that fact. "Right…Please place all his things inside my trunk and bring the bag back after."

"Of course, Master Rie." Mipsy took the bag and vanished with a pop-click.

He turned to the twins. "Which of you can levitate Sally?"

They looked at each other and then back at Godric. "We could learn?" offered one.

A pop-click interrupted them and Mipsy returned the now empty satchel. "It be done, Master Rie."

Godric looked at the bag, glanced at the twins, and turned back to Mipsy. "Can you toss a rock into this bag and teleport away before the rock enters said bag? And can you levitate Sally to the Gryffindor tower?" Godric paused as he processed what he was asking of the elf. Others spoke up as he realized there was something a little off with the order.

"Gryffindor?" one of the twins asked.

"He is not to be left alone," explained Evander.

"Not in that order," Godric added to the little House elf. "Opposite order. Sally then stone." He blinked down at the elf and she blinked up at him, slowly nodding her head.

Rowena added to the twins, "The resulting explosion will demand an investigation. The stone should be found missing, the professor gone, but hopefully no missing children. Salazar isn't going to wake up anytime soon. You'll have to play interference with everyone. That cannot be done if he's in the Slytherin dorms."

"Would anyone be terribly shocked that Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom had a sleepover?" Helga said with a little grin.

"Yeah, probably," countered a twin, "I mean, no one enters another house dormitory."

The head druid frowned as he joined the conversation, "He really shouldn't be separated from the rest of you right now...unless…" He turned to Godric. "Is there anyone else you could bring in on this that can keep an eye on him?"

"Sally isn't leaving my side," snapped Godric before he took a deep breath and exhaled. "And..no, there isn't."

Godric considered it all for a moment before looking sideways at the Weasleys to gauge their opinion as he asked, "Would it really be that odd when Sally is ignored by his fellow housemates and desires company on the eve of his parents' deaths?"

"Oh." Eyes widened and they shared horrified looks. One of the twins slowly nodded. "No one would question that. I mean, they'd question it until that's brought up...and they'd wonder how he got in without notice still but I don't think anyone would feel right asking."

"I can do that Master Rie," said Mipsy quietly, answering Godric's questions and pulling everyone back to the full issue. "Be easy."

Godric relaxed and offered her a tired grin. "Thank you Mipsy."

"Place the bag over here, in the center of the area," Evander ordered, "Then we'll all head inside."

It didn't take long to set everything up and, with Mipsy's help, reach the Gryffindor tower. The spirits muttered goodbyes to Godric and something to the twins—goodbyes for them too, he guessed. They didn't need to leave until midnight, when Samhain ended, but Godric doubted he would wake before the next day. The visiting spirits would likely wander the school, perhaps spend some time with Helena. Godric couldn't find it in himself to care at this point.

He was beyond exhausted. Madam Pomfrey would have kept him and Salazar in the hospital wing for a week straight if she knew what state they were in. Two, probably. They couldn't chance it, though.

The boys separated at the stairs; the twins headed down while Godric, Mipsy, and a floating Salazar went up. In the dorm, Seamus and Dean snored away. Godric pulled Sally's shoes off and used a washcloth to wipe the troll blood off as well as he could while struggling to not nod off—his brain had connected the dots of his bed and sleep, and so was attempting to knock himself out.—Mipsy took over, banished both Salazar's and his clothing and helped pull on pajamas. Then the House elf laid Salazar down onto the Gryffindor's bed. Godric stumbled around and half-heartedly cleaned himself up before crashing beside his brother.

He was vaguely aware of the curtains being pulled closed. Then nothing.

oooPooo

1. When chess was first created, it looked and worked differently from modern day chess but similar enough to be recognizable to the two founders. It's really fascinating and you all should look it up. The Counsellor piece I named in this chapter was the previous name for the Queen (and had different accepted moves). Of course, the names of the pieces may still vary across the world. Knight and bishop are rather European. Not sure if some pieces are played with older/different accepted moves in different parts of the world since chess is an international sport now. It probably is.