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)

34. Chapter 34

Chapter Thirty-Four

oooP1ooo

(Harry)

Pater Black and Cassiopeia were waiting for Salazar in the foyer. Salazar firmly ignored the audience as he straightened himself up and banished the soot and smell of fire.—He couldn't possibly be the only person who couldn't floo without almost crashing.

"So," Arcturus drawled, drawing Salazar's gaze. The elder visibly fought a smirk as he asked, "Should we expect glowing trees?"

Salazar sighed in regret. It wasn't his fault the Daily Prophet (and every other newspaper) had deemed the Abbott party "spectacle" front page worthy. People were acting like using a druid's grove, half destroyed and uncared for as it was, for a party and having it magically react revolutionary and surprising. It really shouldn't be.

A bloody party in a grove. Sacrilege. (Not really. But Salazar seriously considered claiming it was just to avoid a repeat "Glowing Trees" incident.)

"It'll be years before you'll have to worry about any of that," Salazar groused.

Cassiopeia grinned with a little too many teeth. "So. You were at fault?"

"Invoking the leyline crossing for a proper, though delayed, Yuletide wish should not be something to blame on a person," Salazar complained with a huff, "So what if the clearing reacted a little more than expected because no one knows how to take care of groves these days–" He flicked his hands up and out in exasperation, "People should have better things to report on–"

Arcturus snorted in amusement as he turned away from the manor's inner double door and headed outside through the wrought iron glass one. "This way."

"Well," Cassiopeia said as she strolled at his side as they followed the old man, "The infestation of doxies and gnomes on the burnt-out Longbottom land isn't nearly as interesting, even if no one can figure out why the things keep reappearing. And all the articles about House Gryffindor are covering the historical figures, which is considerably more newsworthy than the pure speculative articles about House Slytherin, but not front page newsworthy."

Salazar fought a smirk at the news about their Christmas gift to the Longbottoms, more than a little entertained that it had become so publicly known, but didn't bother to say anything otherwise as they reached the garden.

He looked over the various trees, spying slumbering oaks and beech mostly about the edges of the area. The space was primarily taken up with rose bushes awaiting Spring. The entire garden was bordered by boxwood hedges. The stone path Arcturus guided them down split in two main directions—one toward the sound of the Channel and the other to follow the edge of the large manor. Smaller paths broke off in places and meandered through the rose bushes. A pergola rose from further in the garden. One of those meandering paths headed in its general direction.

Salazar turned to the Blacks and asked, "Do you have any dogwood?"

Their blank expressions were entirely unsurprising. Dawning realization flickered across Cassiopeia before she shot a questioning look at her cousin.

"I–" Arcturus shook his head helplessly. "I have no idea. Elmore."

A pop-click announced a House elf, one Salazar recognized from the last time he had visited. He was visibly older than Mipsy and Olen.

The elf swept a bow to his Pater and asked, "Master needs Elmore?"

"Pater Slytherin is interested in seeing any dogwood we have," Arcturus explained.

The House elf blinked his large eyes with a bewildered and slightly concerned expression. "I…I not be knowing, Master."

"We'll wander the gardens around your manor first then," Salazar answered before Arcturus or Elmore could react beyond mild bewilderment. Elmore slumped in relief and pop-clicked away.

"Of course," Pater Black agreed, similarly relieved, and waved about them, "I'm sure you're not surprised that this is the rose garden. Each garden has a theme but they all have some trees. If none of these work we'll have to extend beyond the pasture to where the greenhouses and farms begin. Eventually, we'll end up in the small village…It would be best if we avoided that."

"Place is full of gossips," agreed Cassiopeia with a faint smirk.

Salazar stared. "A village?"

Arcturus flicked his hand out as if to encompass the entire island. "This is the Black Isle and the House's primary estate. We collect taxes and foodstuff from the people living off our land. Some of the taxes go on to the government as part of House Black's land taxes…House Gryffindor has the same setup with Godric's Hollow, I believe. Or did before the House had died out."

Salazar hummed thoughtfully, making a mental note to tell Godric. He was particularly glad he didn't have to deal with an estate. Though technically he was fairly certain the same setup was done for Hogwarts back in the day. Hogsmeade being Hogwarts' village and so paid the school taxes that were passed on from there and helped feed the castle where Hogwarts' own gardens couldn't fulfill. Now Hogsmeade was a decently large town. Perhaps it continued to pay Hogwarts in taxes and food but it did leave Salazar wondering at the cost of tuition if that was the case. (Thought the issue of tuition was likely far more complicated than he ever wanted to know.)

Instead of being bogged down by details he hoped to never have to worry about, Salazar focused on the trees around the rose garden. He headed over to the closest of them, an oak, as he distractedly noted, "I'm sure to pass that along to Godric so you both can enjoy an absolutely stimulating conversation on…estate management?"

Cassiopeia stifled a laugh as Arcturus huffed.

"Which, on the note of Gryffindor," Salazar said as he traced the bark of the oak before him before he looked back to Arcturus, "An Amelia Bones may have the impression you're mine and, more recently, Godric's guardian. She has to check in on Godric's living situation before the semester begins. Apparently, it's standard fare for a disowned child."

Both Blacks stared at him for a sharp second. Then Cassiopeia threw her head back and laughed. Arcturus scowled.

"Do you have any idea the legal mess that could cause?" grumbled the old man.

Salazar shrugged. "I thought it better to try to mitigate more people learning of us where possible…but you are welcome to inform Bones that you aren't our guardian."

"No, no," huffed the elder, "I'll play along for however long possible before legally binding documents show up for a guardian's signature or such."

"It is appreciated," Salazar said as he refocused on his entire purpose there.

It took some prompting, and multiple trees stubbornly ignored him, but he got an oak and a beech branch. His audience blatantly watched the entire time. Salazar was certain they had to have something more interesting to do. This wasn't visually stimulating. It just looked like he was standing with a hand against the tree's trunk.

"To the next garden?" Salazar offered under the sharp wonder of the others.

Arcturus nodded and led the way once more. Cassiopeia claimed the two long branches and turned them about in her hands as she slowly followed them.

Pater Black spoke up as he held a gate open within a boxwood arch. "Would it make sense to discuss the space you need for the cleansing bath? I also have a few other contractual matters I'd like to discuss. And the grove. I'm not certain where any of these should be set up, or if it matters."

"And the matter of changing laws surrounding squibs," Cassiopeia remarked, "The council opening session is soon."

Salazar stated as he took in the new garden. A central sitting area framed by u-shaped water features took up most of the space within the hedged area. A few elms covered the area along with more beech trees. "I suppose we can discuss all those things, though I don't think showing up to the Council as an eleven-year-old is terribly smart."

"Leaving your seat empty isn't smart either," Arcturus countered with a wave of his hand in emphasis as he walked and looked back at them at the same time, "Not when it just activated and you have the attention and interest of everyone. You'll waste the potential power of this initial introduction."

"Could we have someone represent us?" Salazar asked in interest as he paused before an elm at the edge of the sitting area and traced a hand over its trunk, "I can't imagine anyone being interested in anything we propose when they realize we're children."

Arcturus said as he claimed a seat at the table nearby, "The opening session is when the person seated for the year is presented. A full presentation is more formal but in the yearly one, you'll have to reveal your full name."

Salazar made an annoyed noise and turned from the elm to frown at Arcturus. "You mean, if we show up, we will have to reveal who we are."

"Yes," Arcturus explained with his own frown, "You'll be able to shock everyone into following your demands rather easily, I suppose. For a while. But…well, it's counter to your attempt to hide."

Salazar hummed and turned back to the tree. He pressed his magic to it and silently asked for its support in the ritual. A moment later he stepped away from the elm with a soft huff. The tree had ignored his call entirely. He turned to the others.

Cassiopeia stood by the water feature separating him from the sitting area. Behind her, Arcturus leaned back in his seat, gaze directed at him also. The woman raised a brow in query at him.

"We're still eleven," Salazar answered with what he felt was the obvious issue before he looked from Cassiopeia to Arcturus, "Revealing ourselves so soon could be detrimental to our safety."

Both Blacks made varying sounds but overall left Salazar with the impression that they agreed with his assessment. He stepped over to the water feature and looked in. Crystal-clear water glittered under the winter sun. Fish with what looked like constellations of scales swam about. He traced a hand over the edge of the water feature's wall in interest. Magic sang under his hand, protective in nature.

Cassiopeia said, drawing his gaze, "Who would be your representative then? We're the only ones that know who you truly are. While it would certainly be entertaining to see everyone's reaction to a Black representing House Slytherin or even House Gryffindor, who you have represent you will imply a great deal on where your House stands politically. You'll want to take all that into consideration."

"That," Arcturus agreed, "and the fact that it is not the done thing having a person represent a House they are not blood-related to."

Salazar made a face at that. The sudden image of Aunt Petunia scowling at all the magicals planning idiotic things came to mind. While rather entertaining to consider, it wouldn't work out.

An idea had him ask, "What about beings sworn to us?"

He looked over when he heard choking sounds. Pater Black looked like he was about to keel over. Cassiopeia looked both horrified and delighted.

Salazar raised a brow at the reaction. "So, no then?"

Their looks gained a rather incredulous quality.

He hummed and turned to the other nearby elms. "Suppose I'll have to discuss it with Godric."

The garden became quiet as the two adults watched him work from the table. As Salazar stepped back from the last tree with a shake of his head and no branch to show for his efforts, the Blacks properly joined him once more to guide him to the next garden.

A hedge maze took up most of the next space. That and a large sitting area near doors leading back into the Manor. It had to be the back of the building, the back garden. Elms, oaks, and beech dotted the area but it didn't take long to go through.

He slowed to a stop in the next garden. An orchard of apple and pear trees separated the manor and a fenced pasture. Abraxan grazed within it.

"You've winged horses?" Salazar couldn't help but ask with interest. The creatures had been used by merchants to avoid the dangers of the oceans. Those weren't nearly as wellbred as the few he spied through the apple trees.

"A couple are distance racers," Arcturus answered with a puffed-up chest and a smirk. "Silvered Moonbeam has won The Flying Oaks twice in the last few years."

Salazar stared at the enthusiasm.

Cassiopeia pressed her hand lightly against Arcturus' shoulder as she noted, "Most of them are for the carriages. I take out a couple for individual riding also. You're welcome to join me sometime if you'd like. If we wanted drama, we'd take a carriage to the ball…Not something to do this time and not something I often do anyhow."

"I see. And no, no need to have any more people notice my presence than we cannot avoid already." Salazar looked back at the horses thoughtfully before he refocused on the trees. While it was an orchard, it was a mix of the trees so he suspected it was still more ornamental than for the food. One of the pears gave a branch.

When he turned back to the manor, Salazar smirked. He waved a hand out to the ornamental grouping of trees near the manor wall, framed by elm trees. "Those are dogwoods."

"Oh," Cassiopeia muttered as they followed him to the large group of little trees. "How can you tell from here?"

He paused and looked back at her before he glanced at Arcturus. The man looked just as interested. "Do either of you know anything about trees?"

Arcturus sort of shrugged while Cassiopeia smiled blandly at him.

"I don't think it worth the time to explain any of this now." Salazar sighed. He turned back to his target and climbed through some fancy bushes surrounding them. The two elders didn't follow. They contently stayed on the stone path.

"But…don't we need to know these things to care for our grove?" Cassiopeia asked after a moment.

Salazar hummed as he pressed his magic into the first dogwood and gained an immediate response. He had to jerk back so the branch the tree gave didn't drop on his head—He shook his head at the tree. Dogwood was always so dangerously playful.

He picked up the branch and looked back at the blonde. "Perhaps the trees that will make up the grove…but let's wait for summer when the trees have leaves to start off learning about them? I'm sure you could find a book on trees for the basics until then."

She humphed and held out a hand for the branch. Salazar floated it over to her as she stated. "One more garden and then, since you're here, we can have a final dance practice."

"We need to go over the logistics of everything," Arcturus countered with a sharp look at her.

"Godric said something about the meeting with my godfather being late on New Year's Eve?" Salazar offered as he received another dogwood branch from the second tree he asked. The prompt agreement was a good sign. He was likely right in guessing dogwood for the Black side of the ritual.

"Set for 10 p.m.," agreed Arcturus.

Salazar turned back to him with a frown. "At the Ministry?–" At the man's nod, his frown sharpened. "–How exactly did you get that set up? I would have thought a meeting like this would be at a regular time."

Arcturus folded his arms across his chest and smirked. "Well, I am a Black and the Pater. You'll find quite a few people eager to jump over backward for you for being a Pater…and I may have heavily implied my impending death. Dying also does wonders with what people are willing to do for you."

"We'll be going from the Malfoy Ball directly to the Ministry," Cassiopeia added, "Anything you need you'll have to send over or have Nimue…or I suppose Pater Gryffindor bring it?"

"Godric will bring it all." Salazar agreed, knowing that his brother wouldn't miss the meeting with Sirius even if he wasn't technically invited. He climbed back through the bushes and looked over at the branches he had collected. "Let's see which of these you both connect best with and then we can go over what the cleansing bath needs. The grove isn't something to prepare for in winter, beyond trying to determine the trees that fit the grove you want. Looking at the trees already on your isle will be a good start." He flicked his gaze back at the dogwood and noted dryly, "I suspected some dogwood would be a good fit."

"And then dance lessons." Cassiopeia insisted.

Salazar sighed. "Yes. Dance lessons."

oooP2ooo

(Neville)

Light danced off the polished pale marble floor and the metal and gems of the distasteful mosaic within the foyer. He had promised to metal it down. Godric wasn't certain how to do so without making a mess of the monetary valuables though.

The fireplace burst to life with green flames as he contemplated how to handle deconstructing the art piece in front of him.

"That's…interesting," offered Romulus as he stepped to Godric's side and took in what Godric was glaring at.

"I'm melting it down," Godric offered, "As soon as I can figure out the best way to do so without ruining the precious material."

Green light reflected off all the various overly shiny surfaces as the fireplace released another burst of green flames, announcing Nimue.—Olen and Mipsy may have had a face-off on who could clean the manor better without fully preparing it for living, once they found out about the guests coming over. Things shone with far too much polish. It was sort of funny once he got over them cleaning what was already clean. (Godric was almost certain Olen was attempting, and failing, to flirt with Mipsy.)

"Couldn't you just alter it?" the physically older man offered.

Godric shook his head and turned to the man. "I could but whatever I do could be undone and it would reset to that." He huffed. "I much rather replace it. Know any artists? Maybe one that could deconstruct the thing properly?"

Romulus shook his head. "Afraid not. The Blacks probably do, though."

Nimue stepped up and tucked her arms around one of her father's. She asked, "Are we having lunch in the conservatory?"

"No," Godric answered as he waved them to the door with the lion pride carved into it, "We'll have the meal in the dining room. Mipsy insisted."

"Mipsy?" Romulus asked as he escorted his daughter into the rest of the manor.

"One of Hogwarts' House elves," Godric explained as he led the way past all the cloth-covered furniture and paintings, "She claimed Sally. Olen claimed me.–" He looked back at them. "–Not sure if that's a permanent thing or just while we're going to school."

The two redheads nodded, though Romulus' attention was split as he glanced around the manor.

"I can show you around after the lunch?" Godric offered, "We haven't opened the house up properly, though. So there isn't all that much to see beyond the sheets covering everything."

A grin flashed over at Godric as the man jerked his gaze back to him. "That's perfectly alright. It's interesting either way."

The dining room had been cleared of sheets and filled with little orbs of fairylight when he hadn't been looking. He doubted the sconces in the wall actually used fairylight normally but one of the elves had set the little orbs to float over them as if it was their purpose. It looked much better than expected. One of the elves had even removed the wall artwork displaying various ways a griffin could kill a sea serpent.

Maybe he should have had the manor opened up properly and cleared of the artwork that could be moved. He might have felt it more of a home if he had. Felt a little too late to do so now, with only four days left before the train back to Hogwarts.

The long table in the center of the room was set for only four. It could hold twelve before it had to be spelled longer.

"Is," Romulus asked as he stopped sharply, "Pater Slytherin joining us?"

Godric raised a brow at the man. "I did say you'd teach us both. He's at the Black manor at the moment but he knows we're expecting him."

Romulus visibly swallowed but nodded. Nimue frowned at her father before she leaned in and whispered something.

Not feeling particularly generous of people thinking the worst of Salazar, Godric turned and claimed a seat facing the large windows out to the conservatory. The elves had nicely stacked all their mail so the view wasn't of a mess of parchment. His kin joined him a moment later, taking the seats opposite.

Silence stretched between them.

"Umm," Nimue muttered. At this point, Godric could imagine the napkin she had tucked onto her lap being twisted about as she glanced between him and her father. "So…potions?"

Godric frowned thoughtfully. "I suppose I could explain what the class is like at Hogwarts but I'd rather Salazar be present to discuss anything useful to know." He paused and glanced to the side.

Mipsy pop-clicked into that space at the same instance. She pressed her hands to her hips and scolded him. "Master Rie be needing to offer refreshments!"

"Oh." Godric blinked, startled. "Right." He looked over to the Weasleys and found both looking a little startled. He helpfully ignored that and asked, "Did you want anything to drink besides water? We…uh…"

Godric paused and then looked back down at Mipsy. "What do we have to drink besides water and leaf pis–er...tea?"

The elf gave him a long look. Godric felt certain he had failed her somehow. She turned to Romulus and Nimue and spotted off, "We be having water, tea of a variety, pumpkin juice from Hogsie, hot chocolate, and very old wines and whiskeys Master Sally said we be removing with Master Rie's permission."

Godric grimaced as he realized the manor must have an alcohol closest somewhere. "Yes, store that somewhere and let Salazar use it when he asks." He looked back to the two redheads. "Besides whatever you both may want?"

"Tea's fine for me," Nimue offered.

Romulus nodded in agreement. Mipsy pop-clicked away for a moment. A double pop-click announced both Mipsy and Olen. Little teapots and matching cups floated to each table setting. Then a box with a variety of teas was offered to Romulus who made his selection and passed it to Nimue. Tea leaves were set at Sally's seat by Mipsy.

The box of teas reached Godric and he stared blankly down at the variety. He had no bleeding clue. The one Sally drank wasn't terrible this time around but there were so many options, he couldn't help but be curious. Godric glanced over to Mipsy as she stood waiting for the box. Olen floated containers of cream and sugar about the table and helped shift the temp of the water in the teapots.

"Which one would be the exact opposite of Salazar's usual?" Godric finally asked.

Mipsy frowned thoughtfully before she plucked the box from him and selected a tea. "Black tea, Master Rie. Steep then try it without cream and sugar and then add one or the other or both."

Olen snapped his fingers and little sand dials appeared before each table setting. "Flip to track the steeping of your teas."

Godric shrugged and followed both of their instructions. The two elves pop-clicked away as he refocused on Romulus. The man was tall, even while seated, and both lean and a little round in the stomach. His clothing was second-hand but in such a way it hung off him a little too much, emphasizing his height and giving him the impression of being a little gaunt. Nimue was comparably average in height. Both were darker redheads and lacked freckles that often came with the hair color. Romulus had a greener quality to his eyes than Nimue but was nowhere near the startling green Salazar had. It was interesting to consider all the Weasleys he had met, knowing they were his descendants. Some reminded him of his children far more than others. He shouldn't be surprised it was the younger ones that did, too.

His brother called out from behind him, causing Romulus to start. "Are you learning how to make tea, Godric?"

"Suppose so," Godric agreed as he took in the redheaded man's expression.

Romulus goggled at Salazar.

"Harry. Potter." breathed out Romulus before his shock escaped via a somewhat hysterical laugh. "Merlin. That's some Potter luck there!"

Salazar tilted his head thoughtfully at the man as he sank into his seat at Godric's side and immediately set his tea leaves to steeping. "Sorry?"

A toothy grin flashed as the shock gave way to a surprising amount of humor. Romulus explained, "I was good friends with Henry Potter. I mean, the last Henry. Don't recall if he was the fifth or sixth of his name but, you know, your cousin. His father was the older brother of your grandad." Romulus' face slowly lost the grin and turned red as he rambled.

Salazar slowly smiled in return. "Did you know the Potter family well?"

"Knew Henry since we were both eleven. We shared a dorm in Gryffindor for seven years…so, yes, we were close." Romulus looked over to Nimue and reached up to clap a hand onto her shoulder. "Henry was your godfather originally."

"What?" Nimue sputtered, "Not Uncle Mac?"

Romulus shrugged as his smile faded. "Henry was killed along with his parents in 1970. You were five and we were in a war. Malcolm agreed to take up the mantle just as I did for his kids Henry had been godfather to." He looked back to Salazar. "They were the main line for the Potter Familia before the death eaters attacked the manor and razed it to the ground along with everyone within it. I spent a decent amount of time at the manor, so I knew his parents decently well also."

He then shook his head as he added, "But…well, I only met Fleamont and his wife a few times. Saw James in passing during those moments but he was a kid, you know? Too old to be a playmate for my Nimue and Malcolm's sons weren't the right age range either."

Salazar nodded thoughtfully. "So…Potter luck?"

"Is the damnedest thing. It's not easy to explain really. The family doesn't have ill luck nor were they cursed–are cursed…but things always seemed to go odd for them. Usually, it all works out in the end but-uh–" Romulus fought a grin. "–let's just say there is rarely a quiet moment with a Potter around."

"I fucking knew it," groaned Godric. He ignored the scoff from Sally. This explained so much. "Our lives were never this packed full of weird bollocks in our last lives–"

Salazar folded his arms across his chest with a scowl. "Says the person that caught the attention of how many hags over the years?"

Godric flushed and scoffed back. "Who's been propositioned by a pack of dryads?"

"I'm quite certain they included you in that," Salazar countered.

"I'm sorry, what?" Nimue squeaked out.

Godric and Salazar turned back to their audience. Nimue was a vibrant red.

Olen pop-clicked into the dining room and the smell of delicious food helpfully cut that conversation off by the head. Godric didn't actually want to discuss this with either Weasley. He would just have to continue the discussion of how fucked Sally was via family magics later. (At least he had an idea that there would never be a dull moment for long, for whatever that was worth.)

"So," Godric said as he poured some of the black tea and considered its nutty scent and deep reddish-brown color with curiosity. "Potions."

"Potions?" Salazar asked, confused.

He looked up at his brother and grinned. He had forgotten to warn Sally what this was beyond lunch. "Yes."

Salazar frowned at him before he turned to the redheads. "Potions?"

Nimue fought a smile as she answered, "Potions."

"You're grandfather was a skilled potions master. I'm nowhere near his level, and definitely not near Severus Snape's, but I can go over the basics," Romulus explained, ruining the moment with a proper answer, "What all do you two know about the basics?"

Godric met his brother's gaze before he answered, "Don't squish beetle eyes with your thumb."

"Potions is yet another form of ritual," Salazar answered.

Romulus stared at them as he took a bite of the chicken the House elves had taken from Hogwarts for the meal.—Chicken had not been part of their groceries the other day. Did it make any difference if it had been cooked in his manor's kitchen? Probably not. Eventually, someone had to notice that things kept being taken from Hogwarts.

Salazar added as the silence stretched, "The specifics of this ritual have not been explained in proper detail. Each class follows the same pattern. Snape reveals a recipe on his blackboard and tells us to follow it."

"Then he swoops around the room like a bat searching for anyone doing something wrong, and he has a loose definition of what that is," Godric added with a grumble.

"I did glance through the library but there doesn't appear to be a book on the basics," Salazar continued their explanation.

At that, Romulus shook his head. "There won't be. At least none particularly useful. Every ingredient has multiple possible ways of preparation and each preparation helps influence the magic of the ingredient. The natural qualities of the ingredient before preparation will indicate which preparation form will be the most potent. The only reasonable way to learn how to tell any of this is through practical demonstration. Even then, many cannot tell the quality of an ingredient or are only capable of telling such from a small selection of ingredients. Potioncraft is an art. Each person brings something different to a potion."

Godric dumped some sugar into his drink and a dash of cream before he sat back in his chair and looked at his distant kin. "So we need to learn how to tell the quality of an ingredient and memorize what each preparation brings out?"

"It's not that simple," Nimue noted as she cut up her chicken, "The same preparation may bring out different qualities because of how the ingredient was collected or grown or even when it was collected. Different parts of the world also shift the qualities of the same ingredient."

"First," Romulus stated firmly with a nod at his daughter, "You learn each of the basic preparation techniques. Then you begin to learn about ingredients and the qualities they have or can have. We have a great deal to cover."

Godric stabbed a cooked carrot and noted, "First we eat."

A soft snort escaped Sally but everyone dug into the meal of some type of sweetly glazed roasted chicken with butter-cooked carrots and garlicky mashed potatoes. Godric tried his tea and added just a dash more cream before finding it acceptable, and certainly better than Salazar's usual fare. A basket of fresh baked rolls appeared partway through the meal. It was absolutely Helga's recipe. Godric guessed it had come from Hogwarts' kitchens directly.

Eventually Salazar stole his finished cup of tea to glance at the tea leaves at the bottom and Godric took that as a sign to guide everyone down to the potions lab. The lab was situated across from the kitchen. It looked like it was the same size even. Someone in his family had actually enjoyed this discipline.

Romulus dug through the storage and cupboards and began to hand tools to Nimue. She proceeded to set the tools out on the central workstation so that there were three sets of each tool. Godric shrugged at Sally and claimed one of them.

"Some of the tools and ingredients need to be tossed. They're no good anymore." Romulus remarked as he and Nimue stepped before another of the stations and set multiple jars and containers on the table.

The man pulled out multiple fairy wings and set them on the table between them all. "Including these but useless ingredients are good to practice the preparation techniques on. So the basics."

Romulus glanced at Nimue before he took a steadying breath and picked up one of the knives. "We're not going to worry about the qualities of the ingredients right now. You need to know how to prepare ingredients before you learn how to tell which ingredient would be best with which preparation and so on. There are multiple cutting techniques.–" He set the knife against a fairywing and cut it top to bottom. "–The vertical cut and the horizontal cut are the most simple and there are ingredients that need to be cut in half in such a way. Then we have the parallel slicing, where you must cut the entire ingredient vertically or horizontally into strips.–" He finished cutting the wing into vertical strips before he shifted the knife to another wing and paused. "–There is also the perpendicular slicing where you cut it vertically or horizontally and then the other, back and forth, the entire way.–" Here he sliced the second wing horizontally and then vertically from left to right, never cutting the slice he had just made again until he had a pile of many different-sized strips of wing.

"Last, for now, is the dice. This requires you to cut the ingredient perpendicular but you don't always cut one direction to the other, back and forth, sometimes you slice the ingredient up in one direction and then take the slices and cut it up by the other direction." He sliced a third wing up into a line of vertical strips before he diced it all horizontally.

Nimue picked up a fourth wing and dropped it into a stone mortar as she stated, "Another simple technique, made complicated by the ingredient and the potions requirements is grinding." She set the matching pestle in the mortar and slowly turned it to the right.

Romulus nodded at her daughter. "The direction of grinding matters. How long you grind or even how long since you've ground the ingredient can also affect the magic in the process."

"Along with the material of the mortar and pestle, I assume," Godric remarked as he glanced back at a shelf stuffed with tools of different sizes and make. There were multiple different mortar and pestles, and multiple of the same as far as he could tell.

Both redheads nodded as Godric looked back at them and Romulus noted, "It does, depending on the potion."

Godric shared a look with Salazar. This was complicated. He was starting to have an idea why Snape thought they all were dunderheads.

Salazar turned back to Romulus and Nimue as he asked, "I understand that we should focus on technique first but how does someone know what the ingredient's inherent magic will do?"

Romulus shrugged. "Depends on the person. Most potion masters have kept how they do it to themselves. Some familias' likely have magick abilities that aid in determining the quality of an ingredient. Experimentation is the source of many potions, though. Sometimes it is impossible to know what two ingredients will do when combined in a certain fashion.–"

"Then they have to replicate it." Nimue added, "which requires more experimentation."

Godric didn't say anything but he couldn't help but share another look with Sally. His brother's magical sensory ability, in which at least some of it had originated with the Potter Familia, sounded just like the magick ability Romulus described. Except Godric wasn't certain it had manifested in Sally in a way to be useful for potioncraft. The ingredients were raw material and Godric hadn't seen his brother react to handling potion ingredients before.

"Anyway," Romulus said as he pulled out some violently red toadstool caps and picked up a small hammer, "The next technique is hammering…"

Hours later, Godric flopped face-first into the closest couch. The white sheet covering it spilled across his back and head. Nimue and her father had just left.

His brain felt squishy.

The couch shifted. Sally remarked near his head. "That was fascinating."

"Ugh."

"It was not that bad."

Godric groused into the couch, "Two fairy wings of the same species have different magical qualities because of the difference in their pattern! Jumping toadstools either possess magic to enhance speed by quickening a potion or slowing it because of the time of day or evening, and the time of year it is harvested. Then cutting or grinding it into powder may change that further! And that is dependent on both the technique used and the ingredient's natural magic in the first place. And its inherent magic is dependent on its environment when both grown and stored."

"You got all the plant qualities down with barely a second thought-"

He looked up and scowled at the brunet. "Romulus was covering the basics of the basics! Their natural qualities are easy if you know a damn thing about plants. I didn't get half the possible qualities cutting them caused and that was with the very basic types of cuts." He pushed himself up slightly to grouse properly. "Potions is not for me."

Salazar looked down at him thoughtfully and nodded. "No, I don't suppose it would be." He leaned back and looked up at the wooden ceiling of the manor's informal sitting area. "I don't expect I'll go particularly far with it either. Perhaps one day…after everything."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Godric plopped his face back into the couch's cushion and just let his brain recover.

Potioncraft was an exacting art. He had even less interest in keeping Severus Snape as the potions teacher now that he had learned a little about the discipline. He got where the man was coming from but none of the students should have been brewing potions for most, if not the entire, first year at Hogwarts. The man should be teaching them what Romulus had. That Snape wasn't even trying to do so was beyond insulting. It was dangerous.

A hand pressed to his back as the couch shifted. Sally spoke from above him. "I have a ritual to craft. We can hunt for a BSL book tomorrow?"

"And druidic training," Godric ordered, voice muffled as he spoke into the couch.

"I suppose…though, did you know you might be managing Godric's Hollow as Hogwarts does with Hogsmeade? An estate is what Arcturus called it. It might be your income. You should look into that." With that wonderful bit of news, his brother patted his back and quietly vanished deeper into the manor.

Time slipped away, either a few moments or an hour passed.—He may have fallen asleep for a moment.—Godric rolled off the couch and onto his feet. He stretched with a groan and then trudged up to the library where he might find answers about this estate business.

oooP3ooo

(Harry)

The sky was pitch black still. Their breaths escaped in puffs of white clouds as Salazar led Godric across the frozen grounds. The hilltop had the manor, a few thin oriental evergreens framing outside sitting areas, and a quidditch pitch, though only possessing a few benches for seats instead of towers of stands. It did not have trees. Trees were not a requirement for the first step of a druid's training but they were certainly useful.

He led the way down the hilltop in the direction of the village, and more importantly, the skeletal tops of deciduous trees. They could have used the fruit trees in the conservatory but Salazar hoped for an oak. Oaks were always the best to start with, though he might be biased—or Master Hardwin had been since he was the one who had always said oaks were where to start.

A small copse of leafless trees slowly rose before them as they trekked down the hill. Just beyond them was the manor property's stone fence. A slight gap within it hinted at a little side gate.

Salazar waved his hand about at the trees and asked Godric, "You know what type they are?"

His brother looked over them with a frown before he pointed at the closer ones. "Aren't they all oaks?"

"Yess," Salazar agreed, thoroughly pleased, "A copse of oaks is an excellent start."

"You're thinking for a grove?" Godric asked as he stepped up to the closest and pressed his hand to the trunk. "Here?" He turned about and looked around the area.

Salazar shrugged. "Perhaps. Depends on if you want it closer or if you want it to do more than be a grove."

Godric hummed thoughtfully.

"But that's something we can take our time figuring out. Right now, let's see if you can find the closest leyline," Salazar said, "Sit at the roots of whichever tree you prefer. You'll want your back against the trunk."

The blond settled at the roots of the tree he was already beside as he remarked, "We did this years ago, you remember?"

Salazar shifted on his feet and tucked his hands into the pockets of his newish muggle-friendly coat as he shrugged. "Vaguely. You couldn't find the leyline. But then you tried to show me how to connect with flames too and I couldn't do it either."

"You learned," Godric countered.

"After we became magic bonded. And I've only been able to properly control your flames. Anything more than a candle worth or just a bit of excess heat and it's more than happy to ignore me."

Godric chuckled at that. "True. What next?"

Salazar walked over and sank to his knees before Godric. "You meditate but look outside yourself instead of in. The leylines are below us but it's hard to tell directions when meditating. That's where the tree comes in. The Mother's energy flows most obviously through the rooted plants of the world. Tree roots grow deep into the earth and can often be the closest to the leyline. Pine has roots that grow deeper than oak but oak has a clearer flow of Mother's magic through its entire form. So we will start with the oak. If you need deeper guidance, then we can hunt down a pine for later meditations."

He pressed his lips together and licked them before he continued to explain, "If you can see the leyline, you can sense the nature magic flowing through the trees and follow it down to her heart. We're going to take this in increments and I'm going to be right beside you for the start."

"So first," Godric guessed, or remembered after all these years, "I need to see if I can sense the nature magic in the tree."

He nodded. "Yes. Then, if you can, you follow it. Don't go all the way, though. We're not going to attempt connecting to the leyline and opening up to the magic today. For now, you need to see what you can sense and then become used to sensing the magics, both while meditating and in everyday life. This is where meditating with the help of a variety of tree species could also be of use."

Godric hummed as he nodded. Then he relaxed back against the tree and closed his eyes. Salazar shifted off his knees and sat cross-legged before his brother. The two sank into a meditative state as the sun slowly rose and morning light began to shine.

The leyline sang underneath them with the rising sun. Salazar welcomed the natural energies and allowed himself to sink into a meditative state. Due to his mastry of the mental arts, a meditative state allowed him to easily view the world beyond the normal six senses and he opened his mind's eyes to the metaphysical world. Others could learn to do it—he had taught the others as they built Hogwarts how to reach their metaphysical spheres after all—but it was more difficult when one didn't understand the mind which aided in connecting with the plane.

It always fascinated Salazar what shape the metaphysical world took. It wasn't material or physical in nature but, due to a magical's natural inclination, it took on the illusion of the material reality. Salazar, and many greater thinkers before him, postulated it did so due to the limitations of a human's ability to understand. The senses are how the world was perceived and so the metaphysical aspected was gleamed with the senses possessed by the observer.

He had sight and so he saw a physical world when focused on the metaphysical. He had hearing and so the metaphysical world had sound. And so on.

Salazar had interacted with magic enough to be able to preserve the metaphysical plane in a less concrete fashion.—He didn't require ground under his metaphysical form to feel grounded. He floated in space.—He wondered for a moment at what this would look like for Godric. Salazar wasn't certain if his brother had done much meditative viewing of the outer metaphysical world or had primarily focused on his inner metaphysical self.

A distant roar of a river drew Salazar's gaze down. The leyline flowed like a river of gold far down below him with thousands and thousands of streams branching off it and rising up toward him, representing the roots of all the plants.

Heated air buffeted Salazar and announced Godric's consciousness. He turned to his brother and tilted his head.

Godric physically shifted from his past redheaded adult form to his blond eleven-year-old form and back. There was streaks of gray in his red hair. Time had craved lines into his brow, around his eyes and mouth. Not even the beard hide the years that had past Godric by after Salazar had died.

The Gryffindor tilted his head, eyes closed as his own mind adjusted to the mental dimension. His eyes flew open a moment later and a grin spread. "Sally," the man muttered without really looking at him, "I can sense her. Merlin…She's everywhere, isn't she?"

"The Mother is the entire planet," Salazar offered.

His brother huffed, his grin only broadening. Hazel-Blue eyes focused on him and that grin softened. "Strange to see such a difference between the past and present."

"You got old," Salazar muttered back before he looked away. Knowing and seeing were always at least a little startling. "Now can you find your way? Can you sense the flow of the natural magic?"

Godric hummed thoughtfully. A moment later his breath had eased once more into a state of meditation as he focused.

Salazar looked back at his brother for a moment. Godric's head was drooped toward his chest as he concentrated and focused on opening his senses to the outside world's magic. That his brother had made it this far may only be due to all their combined experience with interacting with the other's magic. That Godric could sense the leyline's existence was a positive sign, but not the end. The true test was if the other could find his way and connect to the natural magic of the world.

Neither was easy. It could take years for some. Many never succeeded in both steps.

He had no doubt Godric would succeed. It was just a matter of how much time it took.

The druid turned back to the leyline and considered what he was sensing. It wasn't that close to Godric's manor. Salazar slipped away from Godric and climbed down through the rooted streams of magic until he was only feet from the leyline.

Molten gold in color and glow, a sizzling, humming heat danced against his face. Salazar reached out and held his hand palm out toward the river of magic. He mentally reached out in welcome and a stream of gold rose as if traveling through roots and connected to his feet. A moment later the energy flowed out of his hand and poured itself back into the river.

Salazar closed his eyes and concentrated on the whisper of the material world tugging through the magic.—The metaphysical and material realities were intertwined and could influence the other. Neither was truly separate.—Saltwater teased at his tongue.

This leyline traveled under the depths of the Bristol Channel, at least in Winter.

He hummed in tune with the leyline's song—And flinched.

Green eyes opened to the copse of oaks almost glittering in the morning light with a deep frown. The light haloed out and pain throbbed. For a moment it felt like something had stabbed him but it seemed to just be a headache. He blinked as something warm got into one of his eyes.

Salazar reached up and swiped it off. Something caught in his throat as he looked at his hand. It was red. Blood.

He hesitated, gaze slicing over to Godric but his brother was slumped in meditation still, and pressed his clean hand to his scar. It came back just as bright red.

"Shit." he breathed out before he rose and, swept back up to the manor while Godric was distracted. Worry churned as he ran in and found some essence of dittany. To explore the metaphysical was part of the mental arts. But he hadn't done anything intrusive so why now?

Perhaps he hadn't been imagining the vague sense of something moving within the scar after all. But that didn't always occur when he did anything mentally major. And this shouldn't have caused such a reaction either.

oooP4ooo

(Neville)

A quiet hissing commentary of, basically, "the hell is this shitty enchantment work doing on an apartment building for over a hundred people" was surprisingly helpful for Godric's nerves as he led the way through the Wisterly Apartments. Salazar's opinion on enchantments, when he almost never used enchantments, would be ridiculous if Godric couldn't imagine the other side of this commentary that once happened: Rowena strolling at Salazar's said in full agreement and stirring the somewhat snobbish complaints towards how they'd do it better.

Godric tried to convince himself that Sally was using parseltongue in an attempt at being inconspicuous but the very idea was ridiculous. No, something was irritating Salazar. Godric didn't push it. His brother had been irritated all morning since their mediation. As the only major thing done after had been shopping for books on sign language and then digging through it for a rudimentary idea of how to say hello and their names, he was almost certain it was irritation over giving the Bargeworthy's this second chance.

It was better for his own mental state to leave Sally to his grumbling.—He choked back a laugh at a particularly brutal assessment when they reached the door and Salazar watched Godric hit the various buttons to ring up the Bargeworthy's home.—At least it was helpfully entertaining for him.

Godric pulled his hat off and Salazar followed suit. The doorknobs shifted until there was only one. Then the door opened a crack, revealing a little chain connecting the door to the wall.

A little dirty blonde girl peeked out at them. Her hazel eyes, surprisingly similar to Godric's, widened.

Godric and Salazar lifted their right hands up—palm facing the girl, and thumb parted from their fingers—and waved it away from themselves as they both said "Hello" both by the simpe sign language and verbally.

She lit up. Then the door slammed shut. They shared a look when the door didn't immediately open once more.

Just as Godric considered knocking, the door opened fully. Teresa Bargeworthy stood a little breathless before them. The tiny apartment behind her was a sitting room but multiple steaming mugs sat at the table as if she had just rushed through making beverages before shifting it all to the sitting space to let them in. Only Natalie, his little cousin was inside.

"Neville," Teresa said, gaze a little wild as if she couldn't quite believe he was standing there, "you came back…Merlin–I…Thank you. This means so much to Owen and Natalie. I understand if you only want–"

"A step at a time, right?" Godric offered, interrupting her ramblings. Then he waved a hand over to Salazar and carefully weaved his hand about in the sign language that matched his words, clearly seeing Natalie's intent gaze following his words, "This is my brother H-A-R-R-Y."

Teresa blinked multiple times. She moved aside and waved them in with a sniff. It took a moment for Godric to realize she was fighting back some tears. As they entered the tiny room, Natalie waved excitedly at the two seater couch beside her. They both settled in as directed.

"It's hot chocolate," Teresa stated as she took the only other seat, her hands in constant movement as she spoke two languages at once, "Fresh made."

Godric couldn't help but admire that type of skill. He did his best to follow her example as he moved his hands carefully and verbalized in a slight delay to his motions, "Thank you. We are learning BSL."

Natalie made a sound that while a little odd sounding was clearly one of excitement. Her hands danced with words Godric couldn't follow. All he got was her excitement through the quick dance of her hands and beaming grin.

Teresa responded with something that caused Natalie to flush and pout.

Salazar took Godric's hat and stuffed both into his satchel before he pulled out the BSL book they had found. He flipped it open and set it on the table before he carefully asked Natalie, both hands raised before him with his fingers together and thumb tucked under them, "Teach?"

The little girl's pout broke into a beaming smile once more and she did. Godric and Salazar paid careful attention to her as she guided them through her language, allowing her to take their hands and shift their fingers and hand positions as they went page by page. The sign language was utterly fascinating. It was entirely different from the many languages they had learned over their previous lifetimes. It was something new they had to learn because Natalie and Owen deserved that effort even if his grandmother and aunt didn't prove themselves worth being claimed as family. (And maybe it was their weakness for little children but everyone deserved the ability to communicate, at least with family.)

Eventually, the door swung open and Jane and Owen entered. Natalie all but flung herself into her twin. Godric could see the silent, mental, communication between them as Owen's expression went from confusion to excitement while his sister clung to him. They were like the Weasley twins and, likely, every Prewett twin set ever. It was a relief to see the two could communicate in such a fashion.

His cousins rejoined them and this time both attempted to teach the language to the founders. Attempt was a key factor because Owen and Natalie ended up debating how to best say things half the time—some of the debate was through their bond and only their body language indicated there was an argument happening and other times their hands flew into exaggerated motions that apparently meant the two were shouting at each other.

Salazar was the one to regretfully end their time there, the day having flown by without them realizing it. His brother still had a little to finalize for the ritual for tomorrow. And, Godric glanced over at his grandmother and aunt who had stood in the background having given the only seats up to the children, his older relatives probably desperately wanted to sit down.

Multiple rounds of goodbyes and surprisingly strong-armed hugs happened between the four children, his cousins entirely thrilled at the idea of not one but two cousins—neither at all concerned with how exactly Sally was Godric's brother. Teresa stepped in when Natalie attempted to initiate a fourth round of goodbyes.

She offered Godric and then Salazar a brilliantly warm smile as she said her own goodbyes before distracting the twins with plans for dinner.

Jane guided them out the door and closed it after them all before she spoke in the hallway. "Thank you so much, Neville…" She hesitated, clearly not sure how to proceed, and ended with a helpless, "Come back. And they'd love letters. We'd all enjoy hearing from you." Her gaze jumped over to Salazar. "Both of you."

Godric nodded. "Definitely. Letters and visiting over the summer. I'll be back at Hogwarts for school but maybe they'll enjoy hearing about it."

She smiled sadly. "They'd love to hear about it…but…they won't be able to go to Hogwarts so-so maybe keep from making it sound utterly fab?"

"They won't?" Salazar asked, tone a little too sharp and judging for an eleven-year-old.

"No," she said slowly, hands twitching in an aborted hand-signed response as she blinked owlishly at Salazar, "Hogwarts costs too much but also there isn't any way the school could support their disability. Right now we'll likely have to homeschool them, though we are looking into various day schools and what might be possible."

His brother hummed and Godric could hear him thinking on the matter already.

"Well," Godric stated quickly, "We'll absolutely send letters and visit."

Jane nodded. "Thank you, boys. Truly." She turned back to her door but paused and looked back at them with some mild concern. "You two alright with the walk back to a floo entry? It's getting late–"

"We'll be fine, ma'am," Salazar answered and Godric nodded in agreement.

"Alright," she said slowly, thoughtfully, "Goodnight, boys. I look forward to seeing you again."

The instance the door clicked shut, Sally pulled their hats out and tossed Godric his. They quickly exited the apartments and only slowed once they were outside the disturbing set of magic.

"I feel like I can hear your thoughts from here," Godric remarked dryly.

Salazar hummed as he paused at the fountain, surprisingly fancy if not worn down like the rest of the area, and looked back toward the apartment with a thoughtful frown. "Let's grab pizza and find a floo entry. Then we can talk."

Godric blinked and looked back also, spying the pizzeria. "I've never had pizza before."

"That is so sad," Salazar answered a little too amused.

He rolled his eyes. "I bet you've never had it either."

"I've made it before, though it's supposed to be excellent from a shop," Sally countered.

It took a little longer than necessary to get their pizza because Salazar wanted bleeding vegetables and Godric was certain the meat-covered one would be better but they reached a compromise, found a floo entry, and returned to the manor with Godric carrying the food through. They settled in the dining room for once where they didn't even bother with plates as Salazar showed how pizza could be finger food, though a fork and knife made so much more sense with all the oils on it.

"So?" Godric asked after his second piece of somewhat addicting food.—He was definitely interested in the whole floo delivery option the pizzeria had advertised.

"They claimed that dark magic caused Natalie and Owen's problems…and some issues for Jane, though I didn't notice any," Salazar stated, "but–"

Godric finished his brother's thought, "there isn't such a thing as dark and light magic."

"Exactly," Salazar answered before he took a bite of pizza.

They both munched on the pizza in thoughtful silence for a few minutes before Salazar offered his thoughts. "Core residue might affect people differently. If some of it breaks off from the core, it could potentially travel through their metaphysical self. It's said that's how some go insane, contamination sticking to the mind…I've never seen so much residue on people before this life though. I've only stories to go off of."

"Perhaps some spells leave residue beyond the core," Godric offered, "The residue could cling to physical aspects too. Not just metaphysical. I mean, the cleansing pool steam is used to clean residue from Hogwarts. Your forest of trees was grown, in part, to help cleanse the magic in the area also. There are places where you can feel the magic in the air. Hogwarts and the intact groves are examples of clean magic in the area…but battlefields have magic clog up fields and leave it almost haunted feeling. You can tell sometimes when someone has done magic in an area, depending on what type of magic done…So if magic residue can cling to a person's core and to a physical location; why can't it cling to a person's physical form, not just their metaphysical one?"

Salazar nodded along with a thoughtful frown before he noted, "And if that is possible, what if people figured out that some magic leaves more residue or creates sticker residue than other magic?"

"Hence some magic is considered dark while others are considered light," Godric mussed.

A pause of contemplative silence stretched between them before Godric ordered, "Let's put this on the list of things to explore when we're officially adults. At least, beyond possible cleansings and purification rituals for Natalie and Owen. And seeing how that helps them."

Salazar made a disagreeing sound but reluctantly nodded. "For the best, I suppose…Though, removing the residue on them is unlikely to fix their hearing, Godric. They were born deaf. Cleaning the residue is only one part of the issue. They also have to have the mental connections. If they have never heard anything, will their minds comprehend the signals from their ears once sound can reach them?"

Godric frowned. "I suppose we'll have to see." He rose. "I'm going to work out. You should join me after you finalize the ritual."

"Suppose being beaten up will add color to my outfit for tomorrow," Salazar snarked.

oooP5ooo

(Harry)

After leaving Godric with the entwined ritual wood and plans to meet up at the Ministry near 10pm, Salazar flooed to Cassiopeia's townhouse. Her House elf bowed him into a sitting room with large arched windows framing a view of the darkening evening sky over Channel waters and a residential street of what was apparently a tiny piece of an entire magical district of Le Havre, Normandy. One day he planned to take Cassiopeia up on her offer to show them the sights.

"I never tire of this view," remarked Cassiopeia as she swept into the room.

"I imagine not," agreed Salazar as he took in her.

Like himself, Cassiopeia had multiple layers on and wore shades of silver. His was far simpler with a dark gray outer robe embroidered with constellations that had a hint of sparkle secured with silver buttons over a lighter underrobe that was barely visible. All that covered a dark grey, almost black, tunic and trousers.

Her outfit consisted of the same basic color scheme and theme, with a simple dark gray, sheer outer robe that hung open and did little to hide the bejeweled gown underneath. It was the lighter silver Salazar's underobe was but the color was barely noticeable since she was utterly covered in diamonds that shaped the Milky Way and constellations across the curves of her body.

His embroidered constellations emphasized the Ophiuchus constellation. The Canis Major constellation was particularly eye-catching on Cassiopeia's outfit, though Salazar wasn't certain it was that closely tied to the Milky Way in the sky.

Topping it all was a half hat tilted on one side of her head. It had a sheer and stiff brim that swopped across her upper face almost like a veil and dramatically up into the air. More of the night sky glinted about that brim from a combination of illusions and more diamonds. Starlight and diamonds glinted like tiny jewels about her twisted-up hair and in her earlobes.—Salazar didn't have a hat. First outfit to not. Likely, the woman had wanted a personal touch for some reason.

Taking everything in, he suspected her outfit had an outrageous number of charms embedded into it. At least she couldn't feel them. His outfit was the most extravagant of the three Cassiopeia had ordered for him and the magically itchest.

Cassiopeia drew her wand and paused as if stopping herself from pointing it at him. "Izzie is collecting your hat. It'll not cover the entire scar, though. I thought we could set your hair into some dramatic bangs?"

He raised a brow. "Might as well try, I suppose."

She grinned and went to work. Her House elf pop-clicked in a few moments later with a dark gray fedora-like cap with a band of the same sheer cloth as from Cassiopeia's cap. The Milkyway glinted across the band and slowly faded at the edge where band and hat met. When it was in place, he found a few curls at the edge of his vision, resting on the temple of his glasses and covering the scar.

"There, entirely covered," she announced, as she conjured a hand mirror for him, "Just don't take off the hat, and it'll stay in place even if the charmwork ends."

Salazar tilted his head about and watched as the hat's band swirled and shifted with the night sky. "How much is House Black claiming me with all this?" He couldn't help but ask in amusement.

Cassiopeia took the mirror and smiled sweetly down at him. "I've no idea what you're talking about. We have to match, my dear Slytherin. We're going as a pair after all."

He gave her a very unimpressed look.

"Now, things to know about the Malfoy Ball." She announced, "We'll floo together—I've seen how the floo and you do not mix, and while it's perfectly normal for some people to never use the floo with ease it's best to not stumble out for this event."

"All eyes on the people coming through, then?" Salazar grumbled.

She nodded as she tapped a finger against the hand mirror. "Specifically paparazzi. The Malfoys use this to show off all their connections. It would be considered obscene except they do it so elegantly. Photos are going to be taken of us and if any of the paparazzi recognize you, it'll be the front page…so, I've one other item for you if you'd like to have it."

Izzie pop-clicked in with a small rectangular case. Salazar raised a brow at it, unable to not consider the possibility of random jewelry with the box size. Inside was a set of spectacles. The glasses were more rectangular, though still curved, The temples and bridge were silver. The lenses were set in thin frames that were emerald green, a match for his eyes.

"The lenses are charmed to shift for your vision. It's temporary—technically these are take-home test glasses. If you like them, I can send these back and the healer can take the details from them to create a set specifically for you. The final version has no magic on them. I imagine you'd like to do the enchantment work."

Salazar hummed thoughtfully and tapped a little magic into the green frame. It was a type of stone that happily accepted his spark of magic. Might even be emeralds for all Salazar knew. After a thought, he flicked his hand out as he concentrated on a simple version of his hat's notice-me-not runic array. The runes flared in the air over his fingers and, with a mental nudge, floated over to the stone in the glasses. The magic swirled and sank into the stone.

"I can remove that later," he offered before switching his glasses for the new. For a second the world was a blur. Then it became sharper than it had ever been in this life. He blinked up at Cassiopeia and added at her stare, "A minor notice-me-not array. Nothing as powerful as my hat or such but it should help keep strangers from connecting the dots that the new style is supposed to do, I assume."

"I–Yes, exactly," Cassiopeia stumbled out before she seemed to recenter, "That was my reasoning…Sometimes the best way to hide is in plain sight. The only pictures anyone has of you are of you in your school uniform. Only someone that knows you should recognize you immediately…I assume the…array won't affect anyone who knows you personally or knows you'll be with me?"

Salazar nodded.

She nodded back thoughtfully before she held out the mirror. The glasses made his eyes stand out even more. It was always strange how green they looked but the emphasis only made it more blatant.

He looked back at her. "Anything else?"

"Just smile pretty at everyone," she answered with a grin, "I'll be calling you my plus one. You're clearly underage so no one can press, or should dare to press, on who you are."

"Well…we'll see how that goes."

"It'll be fine," She said before she held out her arm and tilted her head so her nose rose slightly into the air. "Now, let's make an entrance."

Flooing with another person did actually help stabilize his exit, though it had felt more constricted during the spinning travel and he would have absolutely crashed into the ground if she hadn't held onto him the entire time. Camera flashes fluttered across his vision as Cassiopeia swept them through an outdoor path covered in fairylights, white and green Christmas decor, and literal white peacocks. Multiple voices, in multiple languages he felt the edge of understanding, called out to them and other couples.

Standing just inside large double doors that revealed twinkling lights of a huge winter wonderland of a ballroom were the Malfoys. They positioned the entrance and themselves such that their greeting of each guest was visible to the paparazzi but it didn't look entirely on purpose.—It was undeniably on purpose but it didn't look like it.

Cassiopeia handed her invitation to a man who proceeded to announce far too loudly, but clearly for the paparazzi to take note, "Cassiopeia Black, mistress of spellcraft, senior member of the Global Association of Spellcraft, and…guest."

Narcissa Malfoy beamed and held out a hand as she called out, also a little too loud, "Auntie, so good of you to make it." Her gaze darted to Salazar and her beaming smile gained teeth. "And it's wonderful you were able to bring–"

"My guest, yes." Cassiopeia purred out as she took Narcissa's hand and gave it a squeeze, "He's been a good sport about it after Arcturus declined to come with me once more. Of course, Heir Malfoy would enjoy his company also. Once all the meet and greetings are done with."

"Indeed," a tall blond man remarked, tone a touch dry and a touch admiring, "Enjoy the ball, both of you."

Salazar nodded at what must be Pater Malfoy before looking over to Draco. The blond stared at him in vague confusion. "Draco." He said with another nod.

The boy blinked and slowly nodded back.

Cassiopeia held out her arm and Salazar took it. Now wasn't the time to figure out Draco. The boy had been confused about his feelings and desires since the moment Salazar had met him. Today was no different.

They swept into the ball. Everything and everyone glittered and dazzled. The decor was silver and white, with hints of blues and greens that all cumulated into a feeling of winter and snow while being lowly lit as if it were in the middle of the night. There were crystals glittering with reflected fairylight in place of ice. Pillars of white roses and other giant, out-of-season, white flowers stood amongst round tables covered in more white and crystals. The ceiling and floor glittered also. It was a lot.

The guests were dressed in layers like Salazar and Cassiopeia but not all in the same style of formal robes. Many ladies wore ball gowns under their cloaks, mantels, and capes. Some men wore what Salazar would call muggle suits, though some were not the proportion expected from his memory of muggle formal wear. Furs were present also but in whites or deep blacks and done as luxuriously as possible instead of implying some raw past.

An absolute hoard of people wandered around socializing. None he immediately saw were his physical age. Draco was the only school peer he could immediately spot and there was no one younger present. Unlike in previous parties, Salazar also didn't notice anything screaming House totems or even House colors in people's outfits. Everyone seemed to have decided to attempt to out dazzle the others.

"Lura, darling!" Cassiopeia greeted a woman who tapped her cheek to each of Cassiopeia's and made a kissing sound once they reached each other.

"Cassie, dear," the dark-haired woman offered cheerfully as she stepped back and glanced down at Salazar, "You've brought a guest. Pater Black still refusing to leave his tower?"

Cassiopeia sighed dramatically, "My pater will do as he wishes. Pater Malfoy understands, of course."

The others Lura had been standing with joined them as Cassiopeia waved her hand dismissively at Salazar, "And this darling is humoring me. Draco asked that he'd come with for those games the dear so enjoys." She smiled with teeth down at Salazar. "After I claim a dance or three."

"Real, Lady Black, you cannot leave us unintroduced," a man noted as he slid his hand across the small of Lura's back.

"Of course," Cassiopeia said with a sweet smile, "Pater Emilian Fortescue and Lady Lura Fortescue–" She flicked a hand lightly toward each for Salazar. First Cassiopeia waved at Lura and her husband before waving at the other couple that had joined them. "And Lura's brother, Pater Forrest Travers with Lady Mòrag Travers." Cassiopeia paused dramatically before she stated, "Please meet my plu–"

"Harry?"

Salazar blinked to the side and stared at Florean Fortescue with a woman, who had to be his wife. He hesitated only a second, as he spied Pater Fortescue glance between him and Florean, before he offered a nod in greeting. "Hello Mr. Fortescue, fancy seeing you here."

"I'd have to say that of you," huffed the historian as his gaze swiveled to the adults and settled on Cassiopeia before looking about at Salazar.

"Florean," admonished Cassiopeia, "He is my plus one. And underaged."

The man nodded slowly before he joked, "I suddenly feel like I'm a first year again and you're about to take points off."

"I most definitely would if I could," Cassiopeia grumbled.

An awkward silence fell over them for a moment. Then Florean started, possibly due to being pinched by his wife, and offered, "I believe only–uh–Lady Black's plus one is unaware but this is my wife Hazel, the Head of St. Mungos and one of the representatives on the Warlocks Circle for healers."

The various adults nodded along at the introduction. Salazar offered her a polite head bob.

After yet another pause as all the adults glanced at Salazar and away, Hazel Fortescue remarked, revealing an Irish accent, "Have any of you heard anything about our new Paters? I would love to learn how they claimed their seats without a formal presentation myself. They certainly didn't book any Claimings through the hospital."

"I've been scoring all references to the Council Seats since it happened," added Florean, "There is no precedent recorded in history."

"It's gotten everyone rushing about with their heads cut off," scoffed Emilian, "Julia's been bombarded with letters from the Archival asking if various requests for access should be granted while she's out."

"Has she given permission?" asked Cassiopeia.

Lura shook her head while Emilian said, "No, of course not. Half of these supposed special requests are the bleeding gossip rags trying to look into House Gryffindor and Slytherin's personal details. They've not got the right to demand that information, no matter how supposedly publicly available it is. She'll review all the requests properly once she's done with her holiday."

"I keep telling Edward to add her work letters to their postal box. Just yesterday an owl barged in while I was helping get little Theo to sleep!" grumbled Lura, "It needs to stop. People must calm down about all this. We'll have answers in only a few more days."

"If they show up for the Council meeting," groused Forrest Travers.

Lura frowned at her brother, "And why ever not? They activated their Seats. It would be in poor taste not to sit them."

The various adults murmured their agreement.

Cassiopeia noted softly, "For all we know, the two may be thirteen. Prehaps we'll see representatives instead."

"Well, I suppose that would be understandable," Mòrag admitted, "It wouldn't be nearly as exciting though." She reached out to her husband and noted, "Love, you've a bug on your hat."

The Travers Pater huffed and reached up but the bug fled before he could do anything.

Another pause fell over the group. Salazar had a strong sense he was the reason the group wasn't chattering away. Their choice of conversation was not child-friendly.

Cassiopeia cut their losses and said, "Wonderful seeing you all. I must continue making the rounds but I'll find at least some of you later, shall I? After I claim my dances and send this young man off with Heir Malfoy."

Sharp gazes flicked back over Salazar as the group nodded and parted ways themselves.

Once they were out of hearing range, and not quite claimed by another group for small talk, Salazar muttered, "How bad was that?"

"Well," Cassiopeia snarked, "There is only one peer of Draco's with that first name so not wonderful but not all of them may have connected the dots now. Some will likely not until tomorrow or the day after. They don't all have children young enough to recall Draco's age or birth year related to you."

"Wonderful." Salazar sighed out.

"It is what it is," she sighed too. "I suppose I should expect more people to recognize you?"

Salazar hummed and offered a slight shrug, uncertain who exactly would be at the party. He wouldn't have guessed Fortescue to be present and had had no way to know about Florean's wife's position to have guessed at his presence.

"Ah," muttered Cassiopeia a few moments later, "The prick. Come along, Prewett needs to be reminded that money, not skill, is why he sits one of our Warlock seats."

"What?"

She didn't give an answer as she glided into a opening within a group of adults and claimed a champagne glass from a floating platter while at it. Salazar quietly followed a step behind.

"Gone blind yet?" sniffed Cassiopeia in a way of greeting.

An old man, possibly as old as Dumbledore if his puff of white hair around his wrinkled ears and huge glasses perched on his nose was any indication, huffed at her. A rather squeaky, creaky voice escaped. "Young lady, have you determined the trangulation of the Ozzcum sphere yet?"

"Did you miss my treatise on the matter? It was published a decade ago." she snarked back. The two devolved into an argument on the Ozzcum sphere, which was some type of ancient spell that no one was certain quite how it was crafted in the first place and so everyone took their hand at deconstructing it but only a few had compelling enough arguments to have it published.

A hand lightly touched his shoulder, drawing Salazar from the argument. The rest of the group grinned down at him.

An old woman had lightly touched his arm. She greeted him, "Elise Prewett, young man. Lady Black has accosted my husband. Lancelot sits on the Warlock Circle as representative of the British charter of the Global Association of Spellcraft. They always get into an argument."

"Every year," agreed an older gentleman with a marked note of a French accent present. He offered a hand to Salazar as he stated, "I am Ferreol LeBeau, one of the Master Alchemists that sits upon the Warlock Circle and head of the familia.–" As Salazar let go of his hand, he waved it to and claimed the hand of the dark-haired woman at his side. "–And this is my guest–" He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "–Madame Magali Lestrange."

Magali smiled with deep red lips as she remarked, "It is most exciting to be at the Winter Ball, yes? I am looking forward to meeting more of the Britannian nobles. Only the ones that keep to their Normandy heritage have often joined us during the various parties in Paris. And even less have since the unfortunate issue with my cousins a decade ago."

Salazar blinked at the lack of the s in Paris as she spoke. Her accent had been rather light until then. He tilted his head slightly as he considered how intertwined the French magical community might be with the English. Or if it was something more. He didn't actually know if the French magical community was technically French or something else as the English community was part of the Britannian Empire. Part of him didn't want to know.

"Good to meet you all," Salazar offered when it was clear they weren't about to say more. "It is quite the experience, this ball.–" He smiled charmingly at them. "–Afraid I'm just Lady Black's plus one. Heir Malfoy had asked if I could come."

They all nodded at that, not looking particularly surprised. The three had just been kind, greeting the eleven-year-old tagalong and his glasses minor notice-me-not not strong enough to keep people from noticing him when they noticed Cassiopeia.

Salazar asked, for want of any other topic, "Alchemy sounds complicated. Isn't mastery determined by the creation of the Philosopher stone?"

Ferreol scoffed. "Hardly. Grand Master Flamel is the only known practitioner to succeed in the ultimate endeavor and rumor has it he's destroyed the thing–"

"What?" gasped Elise.

The man nodded at Elise. "Rumors are rampant that he's putting his affairs together. We'll see of course. Maybe he just wants to fake his and his wife's deaths in an attempt to get the Ministry off his back…"

He looked back to Salazar as he said, "But, anyway, the hunt for the stone has long lost its appeal to the rest of us. We have structured tests to prove skill. Mastery is given when a new alchemical formula is successfully crafted by one of us and recreated by the other masters. Few are capable of such but each country offers incentives so that they have at least a singular master alchemist amongst our ranks."

"A matter of pride," murmured Magali as she tucked herself against Ferreol.

"And national security," added the old woman grumpily. "Alchemy is one of the most dangerous of arts. None of the politicians like another to have more access to such than them. That's why you've joined Britannia, isn't it LeBeau?"

The man simply smiled.

Cassiopeia jumped in as she pressed a hand to Salazar's shoulder. "Non. Ah, Mrs. Prewett you know that the white cliffs of England are ever pulling at the romantic heart of the French–"

"Can't be the monetary incentive to join our ranks," snarked Lancelot as he joined them from the argument the two had abruptly ended.

Ferroel stepped up to Cassiopeia and offered her a soft greeting in French and air kisses. Magali did the same before they delved into some type of conversation. It sounded exciting by the way they spoke but Salazar couldn't quite follow the French.

Salazar shook his head and turned to the elderly couple who appeared unsurprised by the rather rude change in language. They looked amused actually.

"Every year," explained Lancelot before he stuck his hand out. "Good to meet you, plus one."

"So," Salazar asked as he took the hand and shook, "You argue with Cassiopeia and then she and Ferroel chatter away in French for a while?"

"They're yammering about the weather," Elise explained loudly. "I learned enough to figure that out. They make it sound far more exiciting than a bit of snow should."

"That's not all they talk about," Lancelot grumbled, "can't be."

His wife shrugged. "Well no, but I didn't see the point of learning more when it's clear nearly half their conversation is about the weather."

"Ah ha!" announced a man with gray peppered hair as he stepped into the group circle and offered a grin at Lancelot and then the French speakers. "I knew if I followed the sound of argument or French I'd eventually find all of you together!"

"Maxwell," warned Cassiopeia, "Must you?"

He grinned back at her. "I'm afraid the power of prefect has long worn out, my Lady Black." He bowed exaggeratedly. "I am now a master of my art! You cannot preside over me."

"Cassie," greeted the brunette at Maxwell's side, "wonderful to see you. We must get tea soon."

Maxwell rolled his eyes. "You both get tea twice a month already."

"A sign you need to stop doing gossip-worthy things," Ferroel offered dryly.

The woman smiled at Maxwell and then followed Cassiopeia's movement as she stepped back to Salazar's side. Her gaze swept over him properly when the Black lightly tapped a hand so his shoulder. "I see we have much to talk about. This young man–"

"My plus one," Cassiopeia explained before she waved at the new couple and explained, "Maxwell and Matilda Macduff. Shockingly Maxwell gained his mastery within Alchemy a few years ago and taken up the other seat on the Warlocks Circle."

The man mouthed what appeared to be 'shockingly' as if insulted. Though he couldn't stop the slight grin that kept tugging at his lips.

"You could take up a seat also, Cassie, " Matilda noted, "You've had your spell craft mastery for years now. And you got that second order of Merlin back during the war with Grindelwald."

"Should have been a first order," noted Maxwell.

"Yes, well…one day, perhaps," Cassiopeia said with a faint frown. "Now, I'm afraid you'll have to excuse us."

Elise nodded and claimed Lancelot's arm. "Us also. We all have others to greet."

Good-humored grumbles escaped the others before the group dispersed.

Cassiopeia swept him along as she traversed from group to group. She chatted and flirted with a sweep of the room, offering only the fact that Salazar was her guest when asked. He found himself informally meeting a great many Paters and Maters and masters of various disciplines. This included a large majority of the Warlocks Circle—who he eventually determined gained their seats from reaching a certain age, achieving an Order of Merlin of any class, and possessing mastery membership in certain guilds or being publicly elected—and a number of the Estates representatives. Everyone was either highly valued masters or politically important.

Salazar only recognized a few and none of those were the ones Cassiopeia greeted. The Paters and Maters he had met at the Abbott party stood in a section constantly surrounded by others entirely too curious about what they thought of the glowing trees at the Abbott Party. He spied the Patil twins' father with a woman he suspected was their mother, and Mater Hufflepuff with Lucasta and Laurinda but neither of the Hufflepuff men.—Of course, Armistead and Octavius must be at the hospital.

Time spun about them as they met and greeted nearly half the guests present. Blaise was there with his mother but didn't catch Salazar's gaze, too focused on something the various adults were saying when Salazar passed by. An Everett Goyle, a healer Salazar vaguely recognized from past conversations, spent a chunk of time discussing spell damage with Cassiopeia. (It was interesting enough to listen to the bizarre things people did to themselves and others on accident.)

Eventually, the center was cleared for dancing. Pater Malfoy and his wife opened the event by dancing an elaborate routine. Then, by some signal Salazar didn't notice, others swept in to join. After the song switched and the dance became one he recognized, Cassiopeia all but dragged him in.

Salazar sighed but did the best he could with the height difference, feeling more than a little ridiculous. He was absolutely the only eleven-year-old on the floor. Cassiopeia appeared utterly thrilled though. It made Salazar wonder how often she allowed herself to dance or if doing so would usually imply deeper relationships with the man involved. He didn't ask but he noted, as he allowed her to claim another dance, that few danced with people beyond their plus one. Though that could and should change over the course of the evening since this had to be an event for the younger generation to explore their options and court potential spouses.

Cassiopeia guided them off the dance floor so that they were beside one of the buffets. Salazar accepted the offered butterbeer.

"Are you free?"

Salazar and Cassiopeia turned to the speaker. Draco stood before them, face flush and gaze locked on Salazar's.

"Uh–"

"He is," Cassiopeia announced as she claimed a glass of wine, "Don't break him, Draco dear." her gaze swept back to Salazar. "I'll collect you around 9:30."

Draco turned brighter red as he muttered incoherently under his breathe, snagged Salazar's sleeve while Salazar nodded at her in understanding, and dragged him away. Once they were out of hearing distance, Draco demanded, "Are you mental?!"

"Sorry?" Salazar said, confused.

The blond jerked into Salazar's personal space, eyes wide as he hissed, "That's Cassiopeia Black!"

"Yess," Salazar offered slowly, "Charming, though doesn't know how to keep her nose out of others' business."

Draco sputtered in shocked horror. "Ch-Ch-Charming!" He shook his head, causing his hat to tilt over an ear. "Charming! Her?!"

"Isn't Cassiopeia your great aunt or such?"

"Yes." groaned Draco dramatically as he fixed his hat. "My great grandfather was her older brother…Merlin, Harry how are you alive? How did you even meet her?"

"That is a long story but the short of it is she found me and won't leave me alone," Salazar answered.

His fellow Slytherin frowned at him for a long, exasperated moment. Then he nodded to himself and ordered, "Don't sign anything she asks you to. At least without having a lawyer go over it with you."

Salazar offered an amused smile and nodded. Draco frowned in response but nodded back, accepting the silent agreement.

The blond glanced around them for a sharp second before he waved for Salazar to follow. "The others know where my main game room is. They'll be pleased to have enough people for some of the other games. If we actually get to it. I swear Zabini is a worse gossip than the Brown girl in Gryffindor."

"Oh?"

Draco darted through a group of dancers and then through a side door before he explained as the music and sounds of the large crowd faded away with the door swinging shut behind them. "He's been snooping through all the various conversations with one of the tree huggers–"

"Tree huggers?"

"Neo-Druids," shrugged Draco, "They were at the Abbott party on the 28th–" Draco stopped and snapped his gaze over to Salazar sharply. "–Have you been keeping up with the news?" He didn't pause for a response though Salazar did nod. "Everyone's been trying to figure out what magic the Abbotts had done to make the oak light up like it did. Father's figured out how to make the fire look golden. A simple color change spell in the end but the detail of the runes and all in the glowing tree is…complicated."

"Did your parents invite the entire Council, Circle, and Estates tonight?" Salazar asked curious and hopeful for switching the topic, even slightly.

His gaze took in the hallway as they meandered down it, Draco far more interested in gossiping about gossips than reaching their destination. It was a stately wood-paneled hall with portraits of long-dead Malfoys covering the walls, watching them with a familiar pointedly bored expression.

Draco scoffed, "Of course not. Father would never invite the mudbloo–er–New Agests. Some of the treehuggers aren't much better but there are too many smaller groups and agendas within each party to keep it all straight and nitpick to that extent. At least we don't have to deal with Dumbledore until school."

The blond paused abruptly and grabbed a door on his right when Salazar turned around to look at him. "In here." Flinging the door open, Draco swept in and demanded in all his drama, "Look who ended up showing!"

"Potter," Blaise utterly lit up with pure glee as he rose and demanded, "You went to the Abbott party, didn't you? I swear that's what was said at the Bones shindig."

"What!" demanded Draco as he pivoted about with betrayal written across his entire being, "Why didn't you say so?!"

Salazar blinked over the entirely Slytherin crowd who were all giving him far too many drama-filled responses. (He had sworn in the past and will continue to in the future—he has no idea why his school house collects such dramatic personalities. The lot certainly didn't get it from him.) Blaise and Draco were the most dramatic of the lot but Theodore leaned over a couch and gave him a look that seemed to imply impending torture if he didn't respond. Vincent had stepped up to the group and seemingly unknowingly took up a position behind Draco that implied bodyguard with his arms folded across his chest in judgment at Salazar. Gregory was the least dramatic but he was also seated before some type of board game the others had abandoned.

"Are any of the girls joining us?" Salazar asked in turn. Paused and then added, "Older years?"

Draco flung his arms up and stomped over to the board game. "He's impossible!"

"Some might," Theodore offered calmly, "The girls are likely demanding all the dances they can from their relatives and whatever boys they can get away with without causing rumors about a betrothal. Anyone third year and older present would be expected to stick to the ball but most people don't say anything if the third and fourth years go do something else after a bit."

Salazar nodded and opened his mouth to ask about how common betrothals were. They didn't appear to happen in the muggle world but House Black had made a marriage contract with Godric and Nimue which was the literal next step from a betrothal as far as Salazar knew.—That they had immediately married by proxy at the same time was beside the point.

Blaise didn't let him though as he materialized at Salazar's side, grabbed his arm possessively, and demanded as he leaned in, "Tell us what happened at the Abbott party!"

"Some trees lit up like they were encased with fairylights," Salazar groused.

The boy's hands tightened about Salazar's arm as he almost squealed. "More than just the oak lit up!? The adults wouldn't admit anything. They're just pulling everyone by their noses and claiming it was the old mother goddess announcing some brilliant future thing was going to happen. Like that's likely."

"You can gossip while we play," demanded Vincent as he stepped up and grabbed Blaise. The larger boy proceeded to pull Blaise, who pulled Salazar, over to the table.

A chair was pulled over for Salazar to join at the table. That was when Salazar was able to take in the room properly. He hadn't paid it much attention and the decor may have simply blended to the back of his mind as weirdly normal. It was covered in Slytherin green and silver with the Hogwarts Snake sigil covering tapestries and pillows. There was even a throw draped purposely over a couch with the serpent on it. Draco officially had about 300% more memorabilia of Salazar's school house than Salazar. Some could argue it was true for Salazar's personal House also but the snakes weren't the same type.

"Did you see anything make the trees light up?" Draco asked, gaze alight with excitement.

Salazar shrugged. "It all happened when a few of us tossed Yuletide wishes into the fire. But–" He interrupted any comments quickly. "–those were just wishes written on flattened oak leaves. Everyone was taking a turn doing this."

Draco groaned in outraged disappointment. Blaise fought a pout.

He picked up the odd cards tossed in a vague pile before him and asked, "How do we play this?"

That properly distracted his fellow eleven-year-olds. All five talked over each other as they tried to explain the game. Eventually, Salazar understood enough—though not really—that they played and he thoroughly lost. A few games in they were interrupted by the swirling entrance of dance-drunk, giggling girls. Most were the missing Slytherin first years, though neither Tracey nor Millicent appeared leaving Salazar with the vague sense that very few halfbloods were at this party.

Not long after the girls claimed seats and pulled out other games while reviving the gossip surrounding the Abbott party, older students made an appearance—more than a few looking like they were fleeing desperate situations. The room grew loud and rowdy and filled with sounds from interactive games. Luckily no one had brought gobstones. He knew Cassiopeia would be furious, at the very least, if she found him covered in that game's stinky liquid.

He relaxed back and observed more than played once enough children appeared to take up the open positions. While every single child present was from his school house—and likely considered pureblood—it was nice seeing so many relaxing and enjoying themselves. There was something almost guarded about them at the school. It reminded him of the likely situation with the civil war. Now, though they were all closer to the "battlefield" than ever, they were also amongst adults they considered safe.

Salazar frowned faintly at the realization. It meant the children didn't consider Hogwarts safe. An adult, or more than one, left children on guard and Salazar wondered if it was due to politics or something more. A certain amount of wariness had to be from following warnings from their parents but to continue with that wariness after a certain time away, after a certain age where the children should start thinking for themselves, was concerning. It meant there might be more than a parent's political bias at play.

The door banged open, effectively silencing the room and drawing everyone's attention. Pucey, one of the third years Salazar hadn't seen yet, grinned manically at them all. "Merlin, Malfoy! How'd your parents do it?"

"What?" Draco demanded with a frown.

The third year blinked, startled at the realization that Draco seemed legitimately confused. "You all got to see it! Come on."

Salazar let the room empty, with Draco rushing to lead the way. He trailed behind as they all returned to the ballroom where excited adults muttered and paparazzi clicked their cameras away at the display of visually impressive magic. Gold and silver and white light glittered about the center of the room in the shape of three apple trees of pure magic. It was very pretty and dramatic but it was only an illusion.

His gaze searched the adults and spied the unimpressed expressions and vaguely neutral looks from various Neo-Druid members. They didn't understand it entirely but they had to have noticed the obvious. The feel of the Mother, of her golden magic, was entirely missing.

Draco stood amongst their peers, chest puffed out as he gushed over such a wonderful sign.

A hand lightly tapped his arm. Salazar turned to Cassiopeia. She nodded back toward the entrance. "Let's go. I've already warned Narcissa I had to take you back. Better leave while everyone is distracted with this."

He glanced over at the very busy Draco and nodded. They quickly and quietly left the ball, taking the front doors to the abandoned outdoor path to the floo.

"ss:_You are leaving so soon._:ss"

Salazar startled as the words, turned, and frowned at the speaker. The Patil twin's father stared intently back at Salazar. His dark gaze reflected the dazzling fairylights.

Cassiopeia tugged at his arm but followed his gaze to the speaker also. She stepped between Salazar and him. "Mr. Patil, I'm sorry we missed you but I'm afraid my plus one must be returned to his guardian–"

Patil ignored her and said, "ss:_I can tell you understand me. Our magics sing to each other, do they not?_:ss"

Besides his little sister, Salazar had not actually met another speaker before. He had heard there were others during his travels through the Middle East but he had never seen them or spoken to them. The skill had been both a blessing and a curse for those people. Many of them had been kept at courts for the humor and benefit of others. They had not been free to travel wherever they wanted.

A smirk flickered across Patil's face. "ss:_Afriad to speak? Cannot help the sense that you will speak in parsel in response? It is perfectly natural to respond in like. Come now cousin you will not rudely ignore me._:ss"

Salazar pursed his lips together as he focused hard on not responding in parseltongue. "It..iss…nicce to meet you, Mr. Patil."

Surprise flickered across his face.

His wife stepped up to his side, having stood in the way of the doors before. "Nicely done, dear. Don't think our daughters won't be told to discuss this further though."

"Wonderful. Lovely conversation. Have a happy new year!" Cassiopeia snarked as she grabbed his arm and manhandled him to the floo.

oooPooo

a/n

No promises on Padma or Parvarti possessing Parsel. They are from a cousin clan/house from Salazar and it's thousands of years. Parsel might not show up as consistently, particularly when there is likely less inbreeding than what is seen with the Gaunts.

Next the long-awaited meeting with Sirius.