Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! I hope you've all enjoyed the season in some way and I'll see you all in 2024.
Previously on Ouroborus:
Arcturus and crowd meet at the Ministry where the old man had convinced various people that it was for the best to bring Sirius in as he was old, frail, and dying but still a Head of House too. Salazar makes it so their meeting can be as private as possible. Arcturus demands babies first in case Salazar makes Sirius a tad brain-dead in the search for answers. So Nimue and Sirius complete the ritual for baby making which wakes Sirius up. Snarky comments eventually lead to Cassiopeia pulling out some truth serum. In the end, Sirius reveals his innocence and points the founders towards someone who should have some answers to what the heck happened when Voldie visited the Potters that Samhain night.
Back at Black Manor, Arcturus enjoys a New Year's cup of medicated tea while he has a moment of mental turmoil and forcefully revelations about himself and House Black's situation. Then he finally goes and opens the box of Sirius' trial paperwork only to find his grandson had been tossed into Azkaban without a trial. (While all this was happening Cassiopeia was trying to soothe a slightly panicking and shocked Nimue.)
Meanwhile, our tiny founders decide to crash the New Year at St. Mungos. They look through Alice Longbottom's broken memories for answers and surprisingly find some. Godric then asked Salazar to try to help Alice. Salazar of course agrees. He investigates the issue and starts what is likely a very long process of reconnecting bridges of memory to the ability to speak in her mind. Then Voldie's anchor attacks, causing general mayhem and pain. Alice ends up convulsing and Salazar feels like someone is trying to invade his mind before he is knocked unconscious by it.
Godric, in a panic, tries to get Salazar out of there (even though it's a hospital and probably the best place to be in this case). In the stairwell, things escalate sharply. He tries to pull the anchor from Salazar entirely after he finds it at the edge of Sally's mindscape within his brother's metaphysical sphere. It goes poorly. Godric is badly injured. A couple of healers find them in the stairwell around this point and try to help. Godric, concussed and hurt, panics at the idea of anyone going near Salazar and tries to get the healers to go away—mostly magically pushing them back. He calls on Olen and Mipsy for help. Mipsy immediately teleports Salazar away. Olen attempts to do the same for Godric but one of the healers tags along.
Olen teleports them all back to the conservatory at the Gryffindor Manor. Godric rallies against the tag-along healer. Another House elf pop-clicks in with the healer they had left behind and what might be Mater Hufflepuff. Things go very poorly for all involved in various ways until this other House elf vanishes and comes back with a student-aged kid whom neither Olen nor Mipsy can attack, and Godric can't convince himself to harm either. The girl convinces Godric to accept the healers' help.
Chapter Thirty-Six
oooP1ooo
(Laelia)
She tucked her eldest against her as the inhuman screams echoed through the conservatory. Her gaze stuck on the convulsing eleven-year-old for a moment longer. The screams weren't coming from his mouth.
Adrenaline surged through her as she watched helplessly on the sidelines as her father and Octavius struggled to figure out what was going on. On the ground nearby, the blond boy's gaze was locked on Potter, too.—Neville. Once of Longbottom. Supposed-near-squib. Eleven-year-old wandless castor.—He visibly fought to stay awake even through the horrid sounds. The combination of potions and healing spells cast on him was clearly pushing him toward a healing sleep. He would be out soon enough, no matter how stubborn the child was.
There was nothing to do about the two House elves watching every move the men made. One sat at the blond's side. The other shifted about on her feet near Potter.
"Pater Gryffindor or Slytherin have to be here somewhere, mum," muttered Lucy as her daughter hugged her back and hid her face from the horrible sight of a child convulsing, "They could help? Maybe they know something."
"Right," Laelia glanced over the large conservatory. Little flames still licked at some parchment. She dosed them with a quick aguamenti. The flame died for a moment and then sizzled back to life. She stared at it. Then took a deep breath, swished her wand so the little fires all moved into a pile together, and floated them near her to move to a fireplace somewhere. For now, she would ignore the number of things that didn't add up or make sense.
Instead, she looked over to the closer of the two Hogwarts House elves and asked, "Where is Pater Gryffindor? Pater Slytherin?"
The little brown and red-furred elf glanced up at her with a dark narrowed gaze. His mouth pursed closed.
Laelia stared at the blatant disrespect before she let go of Lucasta and straightened up to use all of her diminutive height. Her chin rose as she concentrated on her command from being Mater Hufflepuff—she had never been very good at imbuing her voice with magic. There was so little need for the skill. "Tell me where Pater Gryffindor is, House elf."
A mulish expression flashed across the elf's face before her connection to Hogwarts forced him to oblige. He groused out, "He be here."
She stared at the elf in frustration. Questions flew, though none had the magic imbued to force an answer. "Then why hasn't he shown up? These boys are under his care, aren't they? Or is Pater Black around also? Harry had said…implied that…" She trailed off as she reconsidered what the boy had said to Amelia.
Paying for tuition didn't actually have to mean Arcturus Black was Neville's or Harry's guardian. And Octavius had overheard Harry say a floo passcode that had to be for a House Gryffindor property. The letters Lucasta had found scattered about the conservatory hinted at two possibilities for the owner of this manor. She very much hoped for one over the other.
"Is this–Are we on House Gryffindor land?" she asked, once more concentrating on adding magic of command to her voice.
The elf huffed a, "Yes".
Laelia frowned. "Then where is Pater Gryffindor?"
"Here."
She made a frustrated noise, and glanced at her husband and father. Both healers were scoring through diagnostic results as Potter was no longer convulsing and the strange voice was silent. Neville looked like he finally let himself succumb to the healing sleep.
Laelia turned to the door into the rest of the manor.
"Lucy stay with your father," she ordered before she glanced at their own House elf, Sneezewort, who nodded in understanding. She turned back to the door and pulled it open as she grumbled, "I am going to confront Pater Gryffindor."
"Mum–"
Laelia snapped her gaze back to Lucasta. "If Neville wakes up, you may be needed, dear. Best you stay.–" She looked back into the glass doors to what appeared to be a large dining room. "–I'll deal with our unexpected entrance to Pater Gryffindor's home." And possibly tell the man off for not showing up already on his own.
She floated the smoldering and burning letters into the dining room's fireplace before she continued further in. It was pitched dark, no light turned on at her presence. She lifted her wand into a Lumos as she stepped into a hallway past the dining room. Her light reflected off hints of armor and weapons covered in sheets mounted on the wall and the many gems on her rich yellow gown. Snores filtered from sheet-covered paintings.
"Hello!" she called out as she closed the dining room door. Ears perked for some noise, some answer beyond the snoring rumbles.
Nothing.
She frowned around at the enclosed space and headed down to the only visible door. Another more impressive hall was revealed. Still no lights and everything was covered in sheets.
Something wasn't right.
Laelia searched the rest of the floor before she chose to go up. Two of the small suites on the first floor had been claimed and lived in. The clothing in each room indicated that they belonged to one of the two boys down in the conservatory. That was it. Everything else was closed up and set as if no one lived in the manor. She hunted through every room, growing more desperate in her calls of "Hello" the further she went without any sign of an adult. The master suite at the top of the manor was as closed up as the rest.
There was no sign of an adult living here.
Back on the ground floor, she decided to check the lower levels in one last-ditch effort to find the elusive Pater Gryffindor. The basement had more activity with the training rooms marked with scorch marks and the smell of fire and sweat, and the kitchen was sparkling, clearly claimed by a House elf or two. Someone had been sorting old ingredients in the potions lab. There were no human sleeping spaces in the basement, though. Nor was there any adult man oblivious to the Smiths intrusion to his home.
Everything pointed to one glaring issue: The boys were living alone.
So where was Pater Gryffindor?
Laelia shifted her too-many-layered skirts about as she slowly trekked up all the stairs once more and grumbled over the many protective enchantments on the formal garment that meant she couldn't charm it to float or something.—Grumbling about her attire was easier than considering the only remaining possibility for Pater Gryffindor, and even Pater Slytherin.
Potter was floating in the air, shirtless and surrounded by magic that swirled and twisted with diagnostic information she couldn't interpret. The light show reflected over the sweat covering his pale skin and showed off markings that looked like tattoos.
But that had to be impossible. Eleven-year-olds didn't have tattoos.
Octavius joined her at the door, gaze searched behind her in search of another adult.
"There isn't anyone," Laelia answered as she focused on the more important part from her side of things, "There's not any sign of anyone but these boys and the house elves living here."
Octavius stared. "But then…" He turned to stare at the eleven-year-olds. "That's impossible." He looked back at her as Lucy joined them. "They can't be Paters. They're not old enough."
Magic faded around the Potter boy and he sunk down into a makeshift bed. The markings on his skin didn't vanish. That meant tattoos. Laelia bit back the question on that for the moment. Tattoos were unlikely to have anything to do with the strange screaming voice and his lightning scar bleeding. Or the convulsions.
Armistead stepped up to them and glanced around himself, "Well?"
Laelia dragged her gaze from the boys and looked at the two Hogwarts House elves glaring at them. She demanded once more, hoping for a negative, "Is Pater Gryffindor and Pater Slytherin in this room?"
Her father snapped his gaze at her and breathed out a, "No" even as the two House elves shared a look and then grumbled a counter "Yes". Laelia shared a look with her husband. All of Potter's party outfits took on a whole other meaning now.
"That means they're of age," Armistead said after a moment of silence.
"They're first years, grandfather!" Lucy stated sharply from her quiet spot slightly to the side of them.
Armistead shook his head before he slowly ran through the logic that led him to his claim. "They appear to be the Paters and Hogwarts House elves confirm that fact. Lucy-cariad.(1) Unlike other Houses, these two are like ours and tied closely to Hogwarts. The school House elves would be able to say with certainty if they are the paters or not. That means they somehow claimed their Seats and so they are of age, even if they shouldn't be…so there is no guardian, is there House elf?"
The lighter-toned, almost hairless elf with floppy ears shook her head in a negative before she mumbled, "No."
"Is there anyone they would trust to make medical decisions for them?" Octavius asked with a tired swipe of his hands through his hair.
The two House elves shared a look. The female stated after a moment of hesitation, "Each other but…Pater Gryffindor be claiming a cousin."
"So the cousin might be allowed to make medical decisions for him," Octavius mussed out. He waved a hand at the two unconscious boys. "Which one is Pater Gryffindor?"
"Master Rie!" squeaked the darker male elf before he paused and muttered, "Umm…Master…Master Neville?"
Laelia looked sharply over at her father as he grimaced. Seeing her look he admitted, "Not the boy we need medical guidance for…which means Potter's care is in my hands until he's awake and aware enough to make decisions for himself…We need to bring in specialists. Something is wrong with the scar from that night. The lightning bolt.–" He shook his head. "–I don't know."
"I can take you to the floo entry?" Laelia offered helplessly, not used to hearing 'I don't know' from him. He had seen it all over the years. Until now.
"No," he glanced over to Octavius, "Between the two of us, I need to stay. You have a newborn and mother to help discharge…I'd have you pass along requests for Fortescue–" Armistead patted at his robes before pulling a pen and pad of parchment out. "–We need Manuel and Fanni–"
"Fanni is on vacation," Octavius countered, "Somewhere in Italy."
Armistead grimaced. "Someone from Spell Damage then. Not the most junior person.–" He ripped the note off and handed it to Octavius. "–Tell Fortescue the patient is high profile and this is dangerously unusual, she'll understand. Grumble about it but understand. Doubt anyone will be available until morning at the earliest so we'd want to leave instructions for how they can get here."
Her husband nodded as he took the note and looked over to her. His gaze moved to their daughter and he noted, "Lucy, I think it's time you go to bed."
"But dad what if–" Her gaze flashed over to Neville.
"We be not attacking anymore," grumbled one of the House elves.
Sneezewort scoffed at the side of Laelia, reminding all of them that she was there in the first place. "Yous be fighting to keep yous masters hurt!"
"Wes be fighting because master was fighting!" snapped the female Hogwarts elf. "Master Sally being hurt is bad! And Master Rie was protecting him so we be protecting them! Hogsie would want that!"
"Sally," breathed out Lucasta. She snapped her gaze from the elves to them. "Luna–Luna Lovegood–She said that Slytherin was nicknamed Sally! And Hannah said Neville called Harry Sally…So, so…who all knows Harry Potter is Pater Slytherin?"
Octavius groaned and looked up at the ceiling. "We're not worrying about that right now…Merlin, kids figuring this out before anyone else–" He looked over to Armistead. "–Should we warn the Abbotts that Hannah knows somehow?"
Laelia shook her head at her husband and frowning father. "One step at a time.–" She looked to her daughter. "–Lucy, it's going on three and you need sleep. Come on." She led the way through the dark manor, wand once more lit with the Lumos charm.
Once they were at the floo entry, Laelia caught her pouting daughter's attention, "This is the last day before you're headed back to school. Enjoy it. Don't worry about all this. And don't tell anyone. Alright?"
Lucasta slowly nodded. "They're supposed to go back to school too."
"We'll figure that out," Octavius sighed. "Now off you go."
"If your grandmother is still awake, let her know to get some sleep also. Some of us will be back as soon as we can." Laelia added.
Her eldest grumbled under her breath but claimed a pinch of floo powder from the canister and called out "The Sett" as she tossed it into the fireplace.(2) Green flame roared into life and she stepped through.
When the flames died, Octavius tugged Laelia into a one-armed hug and muttered into her hair, "Take care of yourself." As he stepped from her and took a pinch of the powder, he added, "I'm going to test the floo passcode I overheard. I bet it's for here." Then he vanished into the green flames for St. Mungos.
Laelia stared hard at the dark fireplace and only relaxed as a smaller green flame lit at its heart. She sank down to her knees as that flame shifted to reveal her husband's face.
"Hello love," he offered, "Looks like Griffin's Throne is the right one. I'll see if I can wrangle any healers at this time of night. Armistead is likely right though. Between it being New Year's and the disgusting time of morning, I doubt anyone we need will be available right now…I'll be back as soon as I can. Be careful."
"I will," she offered even as the flame flickered out, her husband rushing off to take care of everything.
She got back up and glared down at her gown. It was rude but the entire situation was ridiculous, so she called out for another of her House elves, "Borage?"
The elf pop-clicked into the foyer with a curious expression, his round eyes swiveled about as he asked, "Mistress be calling?"
"Could you bring me a comfortable change of clothing? Something I can move in?"
He nodded, pop-clicked away, and then returned with some of her old, lazing sweats from school. Laelia ducked into what she suspected was a drawing room and quickly changed. Borage took her heavy gown away and she returned to the conservatory.
The smell of coffee floated in the air. One of the little tables had been righted and her father sat with a view of the unconscious boys. A familiar craft of coffee and a cup of mugs sat by his elbow. Sneezewort must have collected them from home. Beside them was a lineup of sheathed knives.
Laelia stepped up and picked one of the knives up, turned it about in her hand, and then looked up at her father in question.
He grimaced. "The two were carrying them."
"Merlin," she muttered as she set the knife in its spot in the lineup and poured herself a generous serving of coffee.
oooP2ooo
(Neville)
Godric woke to murmurings. He blinked up at the glass ceiling and the dark gray sky above. Early as shit but proper morning all the same. He frowned as the fog of sleep faded. What was he doing sleeping in the conservatory?
Sally.—He flung himself upright and then doubled over with a groan of pain.
"That was foolish." noted an older woman in healer green robes. She had some type of Irish accent, or at least she sounded somewhat similar to Seamus.
Godric stared at her. Then he took in the group of people behind her. All but one wore the lime-green robes of healers. The non-healer appeared to be Mater Hufflepuff.
He couldn't recall why they were all here.
"What the fuck," Godric grumbled, "I didn't invite any of you here–"
"As there was no guardian or a designated person to make medical decisions for Potter, I made the decisions needed," explained the only copper-haired healer as the man stepped over to Godric. "You are to stay there for a while longer.–"
Godric cut in, catching on that something was wrong with Salazar. "Where's S-Harry?" He mentally grabbed at the brother bonds and slumped even as the healer waved behind him. Sally was in the room.
"Mr. Potter is right over here," the healer answered with a hand motion before he swirled his wand at Godric and magic danced over him before the man nodded. "–At least you didn't do any further damage. You still have a concussion and some swelling so you should lie down and take it easy. The potions are working through everything. Will be for most of the day."
Godric looked down at himself and grimaced. His tunic was gone. Bandages were wrapped around his shoulders and chest but did very little to hide the runic tattoos.
He glanced past the healers and to Sally. A thick bandage was wrapped around his brother's head. He was also shirtless.—Memories shifted forward, a little fuzzy but there. Alice. Mum. She had a box on the ritual used to save Sally.
"Why no shirts?"
The female healer stepped up beside the copper-haired one. "Well, the magical tattoos are concerning, particularly when they keep activating for some reason," she explained dryly, "Though, your shirt was removed for the compression bandages. They help while the potions slowly work on all the swelling."
Godric frowned worriedly at his brother. "Only some of the tattoos on his back are reacting, right?"
The murmuring died. Godric looked up and found all the adults staring at him. He tilted his chin up slightly and stared back.
"You know what his tattoos do?" the female healer demanded, "What does yours do too? We're trying to figure ou–"
Godric snapped, "No one is looking at our tattoos.–" His glare flashed over to the copper-haired man. "–You've no right to bring so many people here–"
"Something is wrong with Potter–with Harry, Neville," interrupted the copper-haired healer. "You want us to ignore this? You both foolishly tattooed yourselves and now Potter is having seizures!"
Godric clenched his jaw to keep from snapping back and took a sharp breath through his nose. "We didn't do anything stupid–"
"Says the kid with bloody magic tattoos!" snapped the old woman healer, her accent becoming sharper with her tone. "Do you have any idea what stupid thing you must have done? You're eleven and now got yourselves tattooed and I bet whatever stupid thing you did is what got you two accidentally activating House Seats and everything–"
Godric's expression hardened. A vague memory of hog-tying some of the adults flickered to mind but that wasn't needed. The lot couldn't do shit without their wands. He closed his eyes and silently cast expelliarmus, willing the magic to bring in every fucking wand in the room. The light of the expelliarmus flashed across his eyelids. Startled sounds escaped multiple adults as Godric opened his eyes. A pile of wands landed in his lap. He tugged the blanket over them all and rolled to his feet.
"Neville, son," the copper-haired healer held his hands out beseechingly, "We're here to help you and Harry. There is no reason to attack us. We're healers."
One of the dark-haired healers groaned. "Merlin, we've already gone through this once."
Godric flicked his hand over his head and cast an admittedly simple barrier—Salazar usually handled barriers but without their wands, this should do.
"Bloody hell," breathed one of the healers as the barrier shimmered over the ceiling and down the walls.
"I'm aware," Godric answered the copper-haired healer as his hand dropped and he looked back at him, "There is no need to fight but neither can I allow any of you to leave as it stands."
The adults stared. The lady healer—or now that Godric had the chance to look at them all properly, the oldest-looking and only female healer present—scowled at him. "You're taking us all hostage, is that it?"
"Harry needs all our help, Neville," the other spokesperson of a healer repeated, clearly trying the diplomatic route over antagonizing him. "I brought the others in because whatever is going on is going to need specialized help to figure out–"
"You aren't going to be much help at all," Godric countered coldly. "You've no clue what your doing–"
The healer that had been silent until now scoffed out with an accent, Italian perhaps, "And you do? An eleven-year-old squib?"
"Not much of a squib," muttered the other dark-haired healer.
Godric's gaze narrowed. He took in the group of adults—Likely Mater Hufflepuff even if she was dressed in an old Hufflepuff sweater and sweats instead of his vague memory of a very sparkly dress. Three male healers with one capper-haired and the other two varying degrees of dark—the likely Italian was dressed like he was going to some important function instead of a hospital but the other two were dressed in comfortable enough looking clothing under their robes. One older, also practically dressed, female healer.—"Who the fuck are you people?"
oooP3ooo
(Arcturus)
He paced about his office, hands wringing behind his back. There was nothing more to do, at least for the moment.
His lawyers should have already begun their official investigation. All the material, and horrible lack of anything, would be pulled together in time for the first Council meeting of the year. He would force the issue then. No one would be able to argue against Sirius' freedom. The Ministry couldn't keep Sirius. Ten years was long past the timeframe allowed without a trial.
Then, once Sirius was freed, his lawyers would go to town on all the idiotic fools who thought they could get away with this. They would see how it was to go to Azkaban, and for life if he could make it happen.
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He glared in annoyance. It had been a long night whoever was bothering him first thing in the morning after no sleep better have a good excuse.
"What?"
The door clicked open and Elmore held it out with an uncertain look. "Madame Bones be here, Master."
Arcturus stared as the Law Enforcement Director stalked into his office. He had forgotten she was coming over. The pater glanced at his clock. She was early. He had not warned Gryffindor to be here in time.
"Elmore," Arcturus offered helplessly, "Please have…Neville join us."
His House elf gave him a look that was very much a "you got to be shitting me" but swept a bow and croaked, "Yes master" before he ran off to all but order another Pater around.
"We don't need Neville for a little while yet," Bones stated grimly, "We need to talk about proper procedures first."
"Ah." Arcturus paused as he connected the dots. The woman had found out about his little meeting with Sirius. At least she found out after the fact. "Perhaps you'd like to sit down?" He offered as he waved at the leather couches.
She raised an unimpressed brow and widened her stance. "Not quite yet, Pater Black."
Arcturus decided to cut her off before she could get started in her dressing down. He stalked over to his desk and pulled out the tiny, sad stack of documents about Sirius' incarceration. He held them out to her. "There are copies secured away in case anyone wants to attempt burying this."
Amelia Bones frowned as she joined him at his desk and her frown deepened as she recognized the Ministry official header on the top document. She took the stack and thumbed through them, her back stiffened straight as she read. Her gaze snapped up to stare at him. "This–"
"My lawyers are already triple-checking all of this, of course, but Sirius will be freed on the 3rd. I expect full cooperation from your department."
Her lips thinned and she pulled her molecule out to look over the documents once more before she gave him a sharp nod. "Of course. I can prioritize his trial–"
"No," Arcturus scoffed, "You'll find that the crimes he's accused of have passed the statute of limitations. He's a free man, Madame Bones. A trial now would be highly illegal."
She stared at him. "He'll still be considered guilty. Everyone will simply see House Black escaping justice. Again–"
"Again?!" snapped Arcturus. He leaned against his desk and snapped, "What justice has House Black avoided? Bellatrix is where she belongs. Regulus, if he was guilty of anything, is dead. Sirius has been in jail for over ten years without a proper trial! I don't give a damn if the world thinks he's guilty. A trial at this point is illegal. It would be an injustice to hold one."
The woman glared at him for a long moment before she offered a jerk of a nod. "We will confirm the legality of the matter but very well." She handed the documents back. "I will have people discreetly review this internally. We will be prepared for the 3rd. And he will be moved to a holding cell as soon as I have reviewed the version of these documents held internally."
Arcturus relaxed and sank into his desk chair. "Good." He closed his eyes, exhaustion catching up with him. "Good."
A moment of quiet settled over them. Then a pop-click broke it.
"Master! Master something be wrong with Pa-uh..with Neville."
"What?" Arcturus stared at Elmore, mouth agape.
Bones ordered, "Lead us to the boy then. Do we need to summon a healer?"
Elmore stared helplessly and wide-eyed at Arcturus. Arcturus stared back entirely uncertain how to answer that.
"What about," he decided to ask, "Potter?"
His head elf grimaced but admitted, "He be looking unconscious."
"Take us there now!" snapped Bones, "And call a healer!"
Arcturus rose with his own grimace. This was entirely the other Paters' fault. They could deal with the fallout. "What's the floo?"
Bones snapped her gaze back to him and hissed out an outraged, "What?"
"Young Mistress Nimue be knowing the passcode," the elf offered, "I be telling her to meet at the entry." Then Elmore pop-clicked away.
"What do you mean passcode?" demanded Bones as she stalked after him when he headed out the door, "Are the boys not staying with you?"
Arcturus swept through his halls as he snapped back, "I am not their guardian. We have an agreement and Potter asked I play along."
A noise of outrage escaped the woman but she demanded nothing more. They swept down the stairs and through the manor. Nimue waited by the floo entry.
"They're staying at the Gryffindor manor. The floo is Griffin's Throne," Nimue offered before she spotted Bones and her brow furrowed, "Hello Amelia."
Arcturus snorted at the passphrase and then gave a sharp look between the two women.
"Nimue," Bones greeted with a frown and a nod before she side-eyed Arcturus. "Not the company I ever expected to find you in."
"It's complicated," Nimue answered with a thin smile.
The older witch gave a weary crook of her lips. "Yes, I'm starting to get that impression."
Arcturus sighed. Of course, the two knew each other somehow, and stated, "Lead the way then."
Nimue nodded before she vanished into the floo. Arcturus gave her a moment before following. He stepped to the side of the fireplace when he exited and took in the impressive, though darkened foyer. His gaze caught on the ginormous, insulting mosaic as Bones stepped out of the floo.
"Needs redecorating," he remarked. Nimue nodded in silent agreement.
"Where?" Amelia demanded after a curious glance at the mosaic.
Nimue shifted on her feet before she offered, "The dining room or conservatory maybe? There's a training room in the basement too. They could have hurt themselves there?"
Arcturus huffed and called out, "Elmore." The founders would have to accept him summoning his own elf under the circumstances.
His House elf pop clicked in and immediately understood. "They be in the conservatory, Master."
"This way then," Nimue answered even as Elmore vanished again.
The group swept through the halls, Amelia Bones firmly at Nimue's side and wand out with a Lumos as they delved into the dark. Arcturus followed the ladies. After a few minutes, a few hallways, and a set of doors opened into a dining room.
"Who the fuck are you people?"
Arcturus stiffened at the snarling demand. Someone had pissed off Gryffindor. He glanced past Bones and Nimue and took in all the people—all the healers—within the conservatory and the shimmering barrier keeping them in. Then he spotted the unconscious form of Pater Slytherin and the glaring form of Pater Gryffindor.
Hogwarts school motto suddenly came to mind, with Gryffindor the sleeping dragon someone stupidly poked. An eleven-year-old should not look so utterly pissed. Part of him, a large part, wanted to leave the healers and other idiots in the barrier to their fate.
Amelia Bones didn't let him choose that as she stalked up to the doors, yanked one open with her free hand, and called out, "Why are you all stuck in there? This is a simple barrier to break."
"He's got all our wan–"
A hiss of pain cut through the room. Salazar's back arched as the pained sounds escaped him. The bandage around his head tinted pink which rapidly spread to red.
The copper-haired healer turned to Godric and held out his hand. "Neville, we need our wands now!"
A shudder rocked through the unconscious boy. Then it faded for a moment before the boy's back arched as his face twisted with pain. Arcturus forced his gaze from the sight and stared at Godric who was staring helplessly at Salazar.
"Gryffindor," Arcturus snapped, "Let them do their jobs."
Amelia didn't wait for further arguments. She jabbed her wand down at the barrier, the Lumos vanished from its tip and another spell bloomed out, smacking the barrier with a loud gong sound. Light rippled across the barrier then it shattered. Another spell shot out at the blond eleven-year-old Pater.
"No! He's still concussed!" shouted a healer.
The reincarnate reacted. Violently. Flames whipped out, destroying the spell sent his way.
Nimue rushed forward a few steps as she shouted, "Godric don't!"
Arcturus yanked her back as flames consumed his vision.
A shout of surprise rang out. Amelia Bones was flung across the floor before Gryffindor. The boy held out a hand, a spell flashed, and her wand flew into his hand. His flaming whip dissipated as he let go of it and flicked that freed hand upward. Another barrier, thicker and less translucent, shimmered into existence. It cut Arcturus and Nimue off from everyone else.
Amelia Bones rolled up to her knees. Arcturus imagined her gawking at the supposed child as the way she sat, stiff-backed, had to be either shock or outrage. Shock would be far more entertaining. The woman healer dropped to her knees at Bones' side and grabbed at her smoldering robes.
"You aren't burnt," breathed out the healer with a clear Cork-Irish accent, "Godric's balls, how are you not hurt?"
Arcturus choked and very firmly didn't look at Gryffindor.
"What." snapped the reincarnate.
Nimue stepped up to the barrier, catching the utterly pissed, and apparently somewhat concussed founder's attention. "Godric, Salazar needs their help."
Silence fell.—A hissing whine escaped Slytherin once more.—Arcturus leaned back onto his heels and closed his eyes as the room roared with the many outcries of "what". He had so hoped the two could stay hidden a little longer than this. It was really too bad that a medical emergency was clearly occurring. The contract to stay mum about their identity was null and void under such circumstances and Nimue likely never called either Pater by any other name.
A sharp, horrible scream cut through everyone's words. Arcturus' gaze snapped to Slytherin. The reincarnate was not just arching his back in pain but convulsing.
"Merlin," gasped Nimue.
The copper-haired healer dived down and grabbed a bundle at Gryffindor's feet. Amelia Bones' wand fell from Godric's fingers. Then the boy was across the room, kneeling at Slytherin's side.
One of the healers cried out, "What are you–"
Gryffindor pressed a hand to Slytherin's bloody bandages, where the lightning bolt scar would be. His head drooped forward. Everyone regained their wands in a rush but then looked at each other, clearly not sure what to do when Godric was doing unknown magic that could interfere with their own spells. A few minutes passed and the group of healers stood ansty over the two children. Finally, the screaming faded to nothing and the convusing ended.
A sliver of green appeared as Salazar's eyelids opened a crack. Hissing slurred from his mouth.
"I know," muttered Godric back, somehow understanding Slytherin. "The fucking anchor's figured out how to reach your mind, Sally."
"You've said that before," said one of the dark-haired healers, "Last night. Neville…Godric, how much do you remember?"
Gryffindor looked up from Slytherin. His expression twisted about for a moment before he moved his hand from the other's forehead and stood up. He stared hard at the healer but didn't respond to the question. The answer was written in his expression.—He remembered but not everything and perhaps not enough.
When he spoke, everyone could feel the magic in his voice. Arcturus shivered from its intensity that bleed through the barrier. "I am Godric Neville Albert Gryffindor, Griffin a'dor, Twice Born,–" Multiple breaths were sucked in as he spoke, the heavy magic singing with the truth. "–Twice Held of the Triad, First Class within the Order of Elementals, Battlemage of the Varangian Guard(3), Founder of Hogwarts, First and Present Pater of House Gryffindor, and sitting member of the Council. Who comes onto my land and be they friend or foe?"
Arcturus stifled a groan as the magic sank onto his shoulders but he forced himself to stay on his feet. He was a pater himself. He would not kneel to his peer. Many of the others were less capable. Multiple healers and Nimue dropped to their knees with gasps. Only Amelia, the blonde woman, copper-haired healer, and he stayed standing.
This was a more forceful form of the hospitium ritual. Instead of offering a welcome, Gryffindor demanded to know if they were a threat. Magic from the very manor was enhancing his demand. Arcturus wondered at how potent the feeling would be if there was no barrier separating them or if Godric had done this at Hogwarts or when the Gryffindor Manor was fully opened up for living. He wondered what would happen if magic deemed any of them lying when they all attempted to claim friendship with House Gryffindor (because only a fool wouldn't).
Arcturus pushed his many questions to the side, walked up to stand beside Nimue, just on the other side of the barrier and within the open doors, and called out, "I, Arcturus Marcel Black, Third of his name, Order of Merlin First Class, Senior Member of the League of Transfiguring Duelists, 28th Black of Black, Pater of House Black, and Sitting member of the Council, comes as a friend."
Nimue spoke next, her voice stuttering through the magic laying like a blanket over them all. "I-I-I, Nimue Cl-cl-clementine God-Godiva Weasley Black of the House of Gryffindor, comes as friend and kin."
"I," announced the blonde woman in an old Hufflepuff school sweater, voice surprisingly firm but her expression tinged with shock, "Laelia Meriall Smith, Mater of Hufflepuff–"
Well damn, Arcturus thought. He didn't even get through the Holidays before the puff had gotten involved.
"–Chair of the Board of Governors for Hogwarts, Board member of the Golden Quill Foundation, 5th Smith of Hufflepuff, and sitting member of the Council comes as a friend and an old ally."
The copper-haired healer took a step toward Godric slowly as he stated, "I, Armistead Darren Smith of the House of Hufflepuff, Order of Merlin First Class, Head Healer of the Emergency Medicine Department of St. Mungos, Sworn to Uphold the Rod of Asclepius within the Order of Hippocrates(4), Master of Charms, Chair of the Order of Hippocrates' Borderless Hospitals Charity, and Representative of the Britannian British Charter of the Order of Hippocrates within the Warlock Circle, come before you as a friend and as a healer."
One of the dark-haired healers pushed himself up to his feet before he stated, "I, Octavius Ronan Smith of the House of Travers, Senior Healer of the Obstetrics and Gynaecology Department of St. Mungos, Sworn to Uphold the Rod of Asclepius within the Order of Hippocrates, Master of Charms, and Boardmember of St. Mungo's Enchanting Prosthesis Foundation comes before you as a friend and as a healer."
Arcturus stifled a sigh of regret. They got the Mater, her bleeding husband, and her Merlin damned father all present. The Smiths would do everything they could to claim their place at the founders' side. And he didn't think the founders would decline the Smith's inclusion. He would have to make certain House Black was not pushed out. His gaze flicked to Nimue. She, at the very least, would keep the doors open.
The final woman stated, "I, Hazel Fortescue of the House of O'Callanan, Order of Merlin Third Class, Head Healer of St. Mungos, Mistress of Charms, Mistress of Potions, Governor of St. Mungos Board, Sworn to Uphold the Rod of Asclepius within the Order of Hippocrates, and Representative of the Britannian British Charter of the Order of Hippocrates within the Warlock Circle, comes as a friend."
"I," stated the last healer. An Italian by his accent. "Manuel De Laurentis of the Familia of De Laurentis, Order of Merlin Third Class, Master of the Metaphysical Arts, Head Healer of the Neurology, Psychiatry, and Mental Arts department of St. Mungos, Sworn to Uphold the Rod of Asclepius within the Order of Hippocrates, Board member for St. Mungo's Mental Health Initiatives, and Representative of the Britannian British Charter of the Order of Hippocrates within the Warlock Circle, come as a friend, though mostly as a healer."
Arcturus didn't know if he should be thrilled or annoyed by the extent of the incursion. The Smiths were an inevitability. The others should have been avoidable.
On the other hand, Arcturus was almost certain they had the trinity of Healer representatives for the Warlocks Circle—though there might be a fourth seat. These were extremely useful people to pull into the squib issue. That also didn't cover the fact that House O'Callanan was known for their healers, and Laurentis was the head of the mental health department, which would be extremely useful for Sirius.
Still, they now had House Hufflepuff, House Fortescue, House O'Callanan, House Travers, Familia of Bones, and the likely Italian Familia of De Laurentis all present. The Abbotts were bound to be pulled in by Armistead's wife.—Which at least meant Morgan and her children would be included and Hannah wouldn't need that jinx on her for too much longer.
Amelia Bones shifted on her feet but didn't speak.
Arcturus narrowed his gaze at her back. What was she doing? Besides the House elves that have kept very quiet at the edges of the room, she was the only one left to speak. Magic of the ritual made it difficult to say anything but what was demanded. Arcturus wondered what was going through the woman's mind as she considered the reincarnate.
Movement drew his gaze from the steel-haired woman. Salazar Slytherin forced himself into a sitting position or tried. Gryffindor jerked his gaze down and dropped to his knees to help the dark-haired boy. Admonishment was wrought with worry lines across Gryffindor's young face but he didn't voice his concerns. Doing so would break the ritual and free Bones from speaking.
Slytherin slumped against Gryffindor and spoke, voice slurring slightly—or perhaps it was a hissing quality instead. "I, Ssalazzar Harry Jamess Potter Sslytherin, The-Boy-Who-Livved, thǣrin Ssley, Twicce Born, Thricce Held of the Triad, Masster of the Metaphyssical Guild of the Firsst Order, Founder of Hogwartss, Lasst of the Familia of Potter, Firsst and Pressent Pater of House Sslytherin, and ssitting member of the Counccil–" He visible swallowed from the effort of saying all that and his eyes slid closed, head dropping back against Gryffindor's shoulder. "–come ass a friend and kin."
Soft gasps escaped various people in the room but it wasn't nearly as vocal as he had expected. Then again, they all had to have guessed at this point. Arcturus tried to ignore his own irritation at the knowledge that the shocking part was the end when the Pater had said 'friend' and more so 'kin' in relation to Godric Gryffindor.
The boy's head lulled against Gryffindor's shoulder. The blond's expression twisted with worry. Then his hazel gaze, flickered golden in the lighting like a candle's flame—and Arcturus wasn't certain if that was a trick or not—snapped up to glare at Amelia Bones.
She immediately answered his silent demand, "I, Amelia Susan Bones of the Familia of Bones, Order of Merlin First Class, Senior Director of Department of Investigation and Law Enforcement within the Britannian Ministry, Master of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Master of Charms, and Senior Member of the British Charter of Global Duelists, comes as a friend."
Gryffindor stared hard at her before he slid his sharp gaze over the rest of them for a long moment. It took Slytherin reaching up and grabbing at his bandaged head to get the pater to finish his form of the hospitium ritual. "Then I welcome you into my home and accept the friendship offered me. Let none betray this trust or they shall be hunted down by me. So mote it be."
His last words caught them all off guard. The magic that swooped over them in a demand to follow through didn't help. Arcturus wondered what would happen if any did break that trust.—And what type of bloody ritual they had participated in as the hosptium ritual didn't end with a promise of retribution.
Gryffindor tilted his head down toward Slytherin and asked softly, "Sally?"
"It keepss attacking," hissed Slytherin as he slitted his eyes open once more, "no matter how many timess I pussh it back. I don' wanna tie it to me more but it needss to sstop going for my mind."
"What?" Arcturus demanded, drawing the boy's green gaze.
"Iss…Tom Riddless–Voldemorts's anchor." Slytherin groaned out, "Sstuck in the sscar. Ssleeping but I woke it. Sshowed it how to wander the metaphyssical ssphere. Sshowed it to my mind."
Gryffindor's expression hardened. "You didn't. We thought it unintelligent. There was no way to know that damn thing was watching and learning!"
"Tom Riddle?" Arcturus demanded, as an old memory sparked of a boy Orion had worshiped and Lucretia had once held a foolish crush over. "As in Thomas Riddle?"
He tried to recall more. Orion had insisted that the boy had been worth the attention but Arcturus had looked into him and he had been one of those rare muggleborns in Slytherin. Mellie had pulled him asside and told him to leave their children be, that they knew better than to follow a little muggleborn past their school years.
"Yes," grumbled Gryffindor, "Alfred made it clear Tom is Voldemort's real name."
Arcturus flinched at the causal use of that name. He wondered who the hell Alfred was to know such details but focused on the more important part, "You-Know-Who was a muggleborn?!"
Godric blinked over at him in confusion. "Nooo? He's a parselmouth so must have some magical heritage."
"So he really is of House Slytherin?" Mater Hufflepuff interrupted, tone a little sharp and vindicated.
"No, Sally never had kids," Gryffindor groused as if it wasn't bloody insane the eleven-year-old had figured out the dark lord's identity. Then he just kept spotting facts without giving any of them a chance to digest it. (Arcturus had a feeling the two reincarnated didn't really understand how insane half the things they said were.) "Parseltongue isn't a House Slytherin skill but a much older clan skill set. Plenty of people not of House Slytherin are parselmouths."
Mater Hufflepuff frowned. "Bu–"
"Right, no." ordered Healer Fortescue as she interrupted the Mater, "Pater Slytherin, we need you laying down once more. We have a list of legal questions for you while you're awake also. Then we can get into the health specifics in all this. After you are properly stable, other questions can be brought up." She flashed sharp looks at the other healers, who all scrambled to help, and went to the one little table still standing and picked up a folder.
Arcturus called out, "Pater Gryffindor."
The boy dragged his gaze from the healers and Salazar.
He waved a the barrier. "If you could drop this?"
Gryffindor frowned but, even though he visibly did nothing, the barrier dissolved. Nimue followed him into the conservatory properly.
More than a few shoulders relaxed. Arcturus spotted Mater Hufflepuff and Amelia Bones sharing slightly wide-eyed looks. He couldn't blame them. Eleven-year-olds should not be able to do that. He didn't know anyone who could wandless do any of the things Gryffindor had done in the last few minutes.
Salazar was helped back into the makeshift bed but allowed to stay seated as diagnostic spells were cast. One of the healers stuffed a spoon of potion in his mouth and another banished the bloodied bandage, revealing a gaping wound where the lightning bolt scar should be.
"First…" Healer Fortescue frowned at her document and glanced at Bones, "Paters don't have guardians do they? Even eleven-year-old ones?"
Uncertainty flashed across Bones' face.
It was Mater Hufflepuff that responded. "No, they don't. They should have been named heir until they were thirteen…but clearly their–" She paused and took a deep breath. "–their reincarnation has confused the Council magic. Only legal adults can sit on a Seat."
The head healer nodded and looked to the next question. "Your place of residence, please Pater Slytherin."
The boy opened his mouth, paused, and closed it with a click of teeth and a grimace. "An addresss?"
"Just give your relative's address," groused Gryffindor.
Slytherin frowned. "But I haven't lived there ssince the Hogwartss letter came and they told me to leave."
Godric Gryffindor started and turned to stare at the dark-haired boy. "What?"
An excellent question, thought Arcturus as he started to wonder if some people needed to be quieted and vanished. He knew some people that could help with that.
"Yes, that. What?" demanded Bones.
The reincarnated Slytherin gave them a confused look. "Aunt Petunia ssaid no magicalss in the home, even though sshe doess have a core. Itss jusst sshattered from ssome ancient family cursse I need to look into.–" Salazar reached up to rub at the scar-wound but Healer de Laurentis caught the boy's hand and waved his wand to wrap fresh bandages around the boy's head. Slytherin didn't appear to care as he continued to grumble. "–And Dudley hass hiss ruined core alsso…The little grove doessn't have an addresss."
"Merlin," breathed out Nimue before she pointed at Gryffindor accusingly, "tent in the middle of a grove in muggle suburbia! You were talking literally. Salazar set up a tent in the middle of some druid grove when he was tossed out of his home!"
Godric made a face and grumbled, "hadn't connected the dots on that until now myself."
"Are we ignoring the fact that Dumbledore had Salazar Slytherin raised by muggles," demanded Arcturus as it all clicked into place. Muggle suburbia and no magic in the house all pointed to this fact. Merlin, how much did Slytherin not know about the modern magical community? Cassie would have a field day that it was likely more than just missed dance lessons the reincarnate needed.
Amelia snapped at him. "Yes," before she demanded at Slytherin, "were these your guardians before the Seats activated?"
"The point," Slytherin groused, ignoring her last question, "iss I have no addresss to givve. Not unlesss Hogwartss countss."
Gryffindor made a noise before he waved his hand at the room. "Just say he lives here.–" He then pointed a finger at Slytherin. "–We are going to discuss your childhood later."
Slytherin tilted his head still visibly confused and too out of it to care and muttered, "Alright but itss not like they tortured me like the Longbottomss."
Godric Gryffindor flinched.
"What?" demanded Bones once more.
The brunet blinked up at them and Arcturus had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling Salazar had forgotten half of them were there. His lids were heavy and his hand went for his forehead once more as he muttered, "Ssorry Rie. Not their bussinesss."
"Can we skip the rest of these?" Godric asked even as he didn't look at them.
Healer Fortescue sent a sharp look at Bones but flipped through the pages before she said, "Two questions, and then we'll leave it.–" The words 'for now' hung in the air as Arcturus considered the implications hinted here. Both founders abused on some level, even if the two didn't seem to either recognize this fact or want to. "–Who should make medical decisions if you fall unconscious, Pater Slytherin?"
"Godric," Salazar answered with a vague hand wave at his fellow founder.
"And if he's also unconscious?"
Salazar Slytherin stared up at the head healer for a long moment before he offered, "Not Albuss Dumbledore."
"Definitely not him," agreed Godric, "And not your muggle relatives that kicked you out."
"Not them," agreed Slytherin with a nod. "No–" He paused and his head drooped as he hissed. His hands flew to his head.
The older Healer Smith stepped forward, "Lay down." Laurentis was already trying to guide the boy back.
A pained whine escaped Slytherin. He didn't respond. A shudder rocked through him. The healers swarmed as he suddenly slumped backward. Healer Laurentis caught him and lowered him to the makeshift bed. Another shudder rocked through him. Then his back arched and an absolutely horrific wailing scream ripped through the air even though his jaw was clenched shut.
"Gryffindor!" called the head healr over the wailing. "Pater Gryffindor!" It took her third shout of "Godric Gryffindor!" to get the boy's attention from Slytherin. "Does he have any allergies?"
The founder shook his head helplessly. "I don't know."
She pressed her lip and nodded. "Non-healers out of the room!"
Arcturus followed the rest of the adults to the dining room. He couldn't help but stand and watch through the large windows, a feeling of helplessness grew with how little the healer's actions seemed to help. Gryffindor had gotten it to stop but he was no healer and the healers needed to figure out what was causing the convulsions. The best way to do that was when the convulsions were happening.
He eventually pulled his gaze from the window and looked around. "Pater Gryffin…dor?"
The others yanked themselves from the view at his bewildered tone and looked around also. The boy was gone.
oooP4ooo
(Neville)
He itched at the thought of leaving Sally with strangers but Mipsy and Olen were still around. They would protect his brother or get him if they could not. All had claimed ritualistic friendship and healers had their oaths so it should be alright. (Those were real healers. Not charlatans out for easy money while supposedly healing a squib.)—And he'd be back before any of them could go running off to tell the world.
So he turned away from the awful sight and slipped out of the dining room.
They needed answers. Dealing with the immediate issue wouldn't solve the true problem. The anchor had to go. To achieve that, they needed to know as much as possible about that Samhain night.
At the foyer, he called out, "Olen? Could you bring me my wand, shoes, and a tunic?"
The elf pop-clicked in a moment later, a little wide-eyed as he held up not one but two wands along with everything else. Godric groaned as he pulled the red tunic over his head and shoved his shoes on. Then he took his cherry wood wand. He paused over his father's wand before taking that also. "Thank you."
"Master Rie honors Olen with collecting Master Rie's wand!" chirped the elf before he gave Godric a solemn look. "We be keeping watch over Master Sally." Then he vanished.
Godric tucked the wands into a pocket and attempted to floo to an address he never thought he'd visit again. He half expected it to be locked and have to pled for her time but the green flames accepted his request and spat him out into the intimate entrance hall of Augusta Longbottom's home.
Muffled voices drew Godric's attention to Augusta's sitting room. He listened by the ajar door for a moment and caught them saying 'Alice' multiple times along with a seizure. Something he hoped didn't do permanent harm to her.
If only–
He closed his eyes as he forced himself to focus. Now was not the time to wallow in his stupidity. (Part of him wished the memories didn't keep surfacing. Some were still clearly missing like how the hell all the adults had gotten into his manor but he couldn't be certain without asking said adults to determine if he was missing more than that. He probably was.)
Godric knocked against the slightly ajar door before he pushed it open. The sky was just beginning to lighten to a dark gray through the thin, tall windows of the room, her home being further north than Godric's Hallow. Augusta stared bug-eyed at him from her loveseat, wrapped in robes to cover her sleepwear and a fluffy hat covering her white hair. A healer Godric vaguely recognized as helping care for his parents gawked at him from his own seat in another chair. Under his lime-green healer robes were formal wear, as if he had been dragged from a party or caught before changing. (Godric wondered at how many healers had been dragged to the hospital last night due to their foolish decisions.)
There was a breath of silence then Augusta sprang to her feet and stated at the healer with a higher octave of voice than normal, "We'll discuss this further later, thank you Everett. My–I–we…Neville. Neville and I need to talk."
Godric stepped out of the way of the healer as the man fled. His gaze never left the figure of his once-gran. She stood before him, fingers twisted at her robe and wide shiny eyes stared across the room at him. He had never seen her look so lost before.
Her lips pressed and unpressed, wrinkles emphasized the action. Thoughts seemed to scatter across her face as she stared at him, lost for words.
He didn't have time for her to collect her thoughts. There were two things he came here for. She wasn't either of them, only the gatekeeper to them. But he couldn't help think of all the things he wanted to say to this woman now that he stood before her.
"The healer came by to talk about Alice, didn't he?" Godric asked. He didn't wait to hear the answer as he stated, "You'll not do anything for her. Again. All the possible routes to heal her will be ignored, won't they? She's not important. Only Franklin is."
Shock flashed across Augusta's face. She blurted, "Neville–"
"Didn't realize I could overhear all the conversations with the healers?" Godric snarked. He stopped, cutting himself off from deriding the old woman. He wasn't here to do that. There wasn't time to say everything he wanted to say to her. He would not leave Sally with so many unknowns for longer than he had to.
"House Longbottom only earmarked money to pay for Franklin's healing, beyond the basic care they both received," Augusta answered quietly, "I never meant for you to hear about the preferential treatment between your parents."
Godric closed his eyes and nodded, understanding the truth in her words even if memory served as proof that she too put Franklin above Alice in her own way. It made sense that House Longbottom would care more for the man it wanted as heir than the man's wife and the mother of the heir it didn't want.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."
His eyes popped open at those words. He looked Augusta over slowly. She looked older than he had ever seen. The way she stood before him was defeated. "Sorry," he said slowly, "but not sorry enough to come after me. To help."
She flinched and looked away from him as she claimed, "You weren't supposed to be disowned. Fitzwilliam had only wanted to remove you from the heirship. You were supposed to be taken care of. He promised that after ruining it all. I didn't know until right beforehand…I didn't know."
"All I hear are excuses, not explanations." Godric snapped even though this really wasn't why he was here. "Things that shouldn't have happened and how it was supposed to go doesn't help now."
Augusta turned her gaze back to Godric. "I am old, Neville. I have no income. All of this–" She waved out at the room they were in. "-is House Longbottom's. What good would I be to you when I have nothing I can give?"
Godric stared at her, incredulous. "You could have given you," he said as he fought the emotion and the frustrated tears that filled his gaze. He was far too tired and hurt for this conversation. Godric couldn't help but have it now when it was so very likely the only time he could have it. "Family is everything compared to things, to junk."
He turned his gaze away from the lack of understanding on her wrinkled face. Godric refocused as he looked out the windows and stated, "Give my parents up to my care then."
"Neville–"
The reincarnate snapped his gaze back to her and watched her flinch from his hard expression. "I am perfectly capable of caring for them. More capable than you."
His once-gran hesitated for a second before she explained, "They are under the care of House Longbottom. You have to ask Fitzwilliam to transfer them to you and he won't do that for Franklin."
Godric pressed his lips together and offered a short, sharp nod. "Do you have any of Alice's things you can give me at least?"
Augusta startled at the question before she flushed. "Yes…I…I truly had meant to give it to you. There's a trunk." She paused and then called out, "Deor, bring Alice's trunk in the attic to the floo entry please."
Silence stretched between them only interrupted by Deor pop-clicking in to announce the chest having been moved. Godric nodded, pivoted about, and swept from the room. An old, dusty trunk with Hufflepuff Hogwarts badge stickers covering it sat right beside the fireplace. He reached down, stifled a groan as his bruised and broken body protested, and popped the lid to glance in. The wooden box from Alice's memories sat on top. He closed it and pulled it up by a handle to drag it.—Wheels popped into existence on the bottom. Handy.
"Neville."
Godric turned back to Augusta Longbottom.
She stood, leaning against the tall door of her sitting room, strangely vulnerable. "Take care of yourself."
He stared hard at the woman choosing her comforts over her blood but nodded. "You too, I suppose." He pulled out his father's wand and set it on the fireplace's high mantle. Then he flooed away.
oooPooo
1. cariad is a Welsh endearment meaning love. Feel free to let me know if I've used it incorrectly.
2. The Hufflepuff manor in Wales uses the floo passcode "The Sett" as a Sett is where a badger or family of badgers live and is a hole in the ground that often has multiple passages and entries.
3. Varangian Guard was an elite army corps and personal bodyguards established around 988 CE for the Byzantine emperors. The corps was first primarily made up of Vikings but is known for being a largely Anglo-Saxon unit. Several famous figures were part of this corps earlier in their lives before they completed whatever makes them famous today.
4. Hippocrates is considered the father of modern medicine and doctors to this day take a form of Hippocratic oath.