Last time on Ouroboros:
Mater Laelia Smith of House Hufflepuff tries to find Pater Gryffindor to tell him about their accidental invasion of his home (and to tell him off for being a terrible guardian) but comes up empty-handed. A little more digging reveals the impossible fact that the two hurt eleven-year-olds are Pater Gryffindor and Pater Slytherin. Her father makes some medical decisions and Octavius, Laelia's husband, goes back to the hospital to help enact those decisions. Laelia and Octavius also determine they don't need Lucasta around anymore and send their eldest home. (Meaning the Heir of Hufflepuff knows eleven-year-old orphans living with only House elves have somehow come to Paters but not anything else.)
Some hours later, as the sun is almost about to come up, Godric wakes up in his conservatory feeling sort of better (but not fully) and finds a whole group of people he doesn't know—4 healers and a short blond woman he vaguely recognizes as Mater Hufflepuff. He demands answers, regains some part of his memory of the night before, and decides to take the lot hostage so he can force their silence and still gain their help.
Meanwhile, around the same time, Amelia Bones crashes Arcturus Black's early morning to admonish him for the meeting with Sirius, though she had a planned meeting to discuss Neville's guardianship originally. He cuts her off by revealing some of the issues surrounding Sirius Black's incarceration. Then Elmore, Arcturus' House elf, helpfully informs them that Neville and Harry are not doing good. This leads to Arcturus tossing out all pretenses of being guardian of the two boys and rushes off to the Gryffindor Manor with Nimue's help.
Amelia comes along, of course. She's got some questions for the two eleven-year-olds and she expects some truthful answers this time, dammit!
They get there in time to overhear Godric demand answers from the healers. The three find all the healers, Mater Hufflepuff, and the founders in the conservatory behind some basic barrier magic. Apparently, Godric had stolen all the adult's wands. Amelia doesn't see any reason to allow the hostage situation to continue and breaks the barrier. Then she casts a spell at Godric, to the horror of the healers as he's still recovering. Godric takes her down with a fire whip to everyone's shock and steals her wand also. Then he wandless tosses up another, stronger, barrier.
A whole bunch of drama later, including Salazar having health issues due to a certain anchor, the whole group does a ritual of some type that reveals everyone's identity to each other and forces everyone to basically agree to be friends with Godric.
Everyone has a thousand questions but the founders (un)helpfully reveal facts they have no right knowing and don't really explain anything satisfactory. The healers try to focus on the health aspect of it all and end up running face-first into some unsavory family facts. Then Salazar full-on starts convulsing while some strange voice screams. All non-healers are ordered from the conservatory and eventually, Arcturus realizes that Godric is missing.
Godric, with a clearer head, determines this was probably the best time to go find the box of ritual notes Alice and Lily created (Sally had four healers focused on him which is much better than just Godric trying to help). He goes to his Gran's. There is a healer there giving an update about his mum but he doesn't hear much before the healer is sent packing. Then he has a heart-to-heart with his Gran, which was only sort of satisfactory (but not really). She does end up giving him some needed answers and his mother's things, which include the box of ritual notes. He leaves his father's useless wand behind since his Gran probably misses it. (More than she misses him. Probably.)
Chapter Thirty-Seven
oooP1ooo
(Neville)
"Where have you been?!"
Godric paused just inside his dining room. The table was filled with mugs and finger food. All the adults stood around it with parchment, though the lot were staring at him.
He pulled his mum's trunk into the room and closed the door. "Out finding possible answers."
Lips thinned, unimpressed looks, soft grumbles: all of it was directed at Godric. He could feel the silent judgment from where he stood a good number of feet from the adults. He ignored them—it wasn't his fault they all only saw a child—and laid the trunk flat with a soft groan at the movement.
Shoes tapped against the hardwood and then Healer Octavius was kneeling at his side. "Do you have any idea how hurt you were last night?" the man asked quietly even as he helped with the trunk, "You need rest. The potions haven't helped with everything yet."
"No one's told me what the damage was. Just that it involved a concussion," countered Godric as he popped the lid and flipped it open. He had dealt with worse than a concussion before, in both lives.
Octavius reached out and helped lift the craved box when it became clear that's what Godric wanted. The man claimed it and also helped Godric upright. "You had swelling to your brain and spinal cord, dehydration, and a cracked skull, and a few cracked ribs and vertebrae. A severe concussion plus more, in other words. Most of it was healed over the hours you slept but that doesn't mean you should go off somewhere. It means you need to sleep for a few more days to recover from it all and the side effects of the potions."
Godric slowly nodded as he looked up at the grim healer. "That's good to know. I promise to rest from here on out." He looked over at the other worried adults. "Do I have to lay down, though? I thought you would like some explanations. And I'd like some also."
"Sit," offered Healer Manuel as he waved at the seats nearest him, "and eat some soup."
A bowl of soup did appear when he sat at one end of his table, chair angled so he could easily glance toward Sally. Godric ate a few spoonfuls, suddenly realizing he was ravenous, as Octavius set the box on the table. The adults, after glances out the window to where Salazar lay with Mipsy as sentry, settled in seats themselves.—Nimue claimed the seat on Godric's left which gave her a view of the conservatory. Healer Armistead claimed the seat on Godric's right; the man angle his chair so he could easily spring up and circle toward the conservatory doors behind him. Arcturus ruined the line up of healers, claiming the seat beside Armistead and forcing Healer Octavius to seat on the other side of the table instead of join Healer De Laurentis and Healer Fortescue on the right. Mater Hufflepuff and Director Bones were content to sit on the left out of the way of the majority of healers.
Godric focused on his soup for a few minutes as he considered the variety of adults at his table. He could feel pain radiating through the bonds with Sally and worry through the bond with Hogwarts. The small flames in the dining room fireplace called to him, letting him know it was leftover elemental flames someone must have stuffed there.
The situation wasn't good. What could he do about it? He could take down all the adults; Godric already had once. It wouldn't be helpful though. He couldn't help Salazar by fighting the lot and finding a way to keep them quiet. There was nothing he could do right now.
Salazar might not be well pleased by this, but it was time to look outward for help. Past time, really.
He pointed his spoon at the box as he swallowed a bite. "That is filled with the notes, and hopefully final design, of the ritual Salazar's and my mother crafted to save us from Voldemort and the killing curse in particular."
Silence stretched for a long moment. All eyes were on him. Their varying expressions of shocked bewilderment informed him that he hadn't gotten that far in explanations. He didn't know what they knew. Perhaps they knew nothing at all, beyond Sally's and his reincarnated status and headships.—The Blacks knew more but by Arcturus' and Nimue's expressions, they didn't know much more or at least hadn't connected the various information they knew together to see the bigger issue.
Amelia Bones slammed her cup down, breaking the silence as she rose and walked around the table so she could flip the box open. She noted as she picked up the top document, her voice a touch too strained to come across as competent and calm as likely desired, "Rituals are illegal."
"Yes, we've learned about that." Godric snarked, "Except for the why they're illegal."
She lifted her monocle to her eye as she looked over the doc. "Runes. Layers and layers of runes. A mismatch of them too, though most look nordic." She held it out to Hazel Fortescue as the older woman rose and leaned across the table for the document. Amelia turned to Godric. "Rituals are extremely dangerous–"
"If you don't know shit on how to do them but that is true of all magic," Godric countered, "You won't convince Sally or I otherwise, Ma'am. Salazar is a literal Master of Rituals. Our tattoos are from rituals. We've completed more rituals than any of you have any idea existed, I suspect."
He leaned back in his seat as he set his spoon in the bowl before him, folded his arms across his chest as he added, "Its likely that the ritual Alice and Lily crafted is responsible for both Salazar's survival and the regaining of our past memories…and possibly why Salazar has the anchor-parasite thing in the first place which is what you all are still here. The anchor attacking Sally."
Godric looked over them all tiredly. He was hesitant to say this but he was no healer and Sally was in no condition to help with it either.
"I think, though I much prefer there were less of you," he finally said, "it's time we explain the issue as we know it in its entirety so that you have the opportunity to aid us in your fullest capacity…but it's a lot to explain. Would be easier to show it if we had a pensieve–" Godric stopped and turned his gaze to Pater Black.
The old man stared back blankly before he scowled in understanding. "You want me to, what? Floo my pensieve over?"
"Yes."
"Floo a pensieve!" the old man repeated with a slightly higher note in his voice and a dramatic flick of a wrist at Godric. Godric stared Arcturus down. Pater Black huffed and stood up, grumbling to himself about flooing a priceless artifact even as he headed for the door. He glanced back at them in annoyance. "I will be back momentarily. Do not have any further earth-shattering reveals until I return." Then he was gone.
Godric hesitated as he stared at the door for a moment and then glanced over to Mater Hufflepuff as he asked, "Why not have a House elf collect it?"
She stared back at him, startled at his direct question but answered all the same. "Some ancient artifacts are cursed to not be easily removed from their location without the rightful owner. Likely a House could move it within the property its on but not outside it."
"Ah." Godric hesitated once more but decided to ask, "And pensieves are priceless ancient artifacts?"
"No one knows how to craft them anymore," she answered slowly.
Godric made a noise. He hoped it came across as a general noise of understanding and not a more derisive sound. He wondered if Sally would find it funny or ridiculous. Clearly, the Hogwarts pensieve being one of the few objects Salazar crafted in his first life that was smaller than a pool had been lost in time.
"I..." Mater Hufflepuff hesitated herself before she said, "have a number of questions myself, while we wait for Pater Black. To do with your previous life. Ones, I imagine, he already has the answers to."
He glanced at the rest of the adults who all watched him intently in return. "What," Godric asked as he turned back to the blonde woman, "would those be?"
Her gaze flicked toward the windows and Salazar before she asked, clearly attempting to choose her words carefully, "You and Pater Slytherin have…reconciled in this life?"
Godric stiffened. He couldn't stop himself from snapping, "Salazar never fucking left us. He died." His expression broke at that and he looked away sharply, not wanting to see their expressions. He could imagine the startled looks. The shock and disbelief in this fact. "I was supposed to go but he went and so he was the one to die."
He took a steadying breath and closed his eyes to recenter himself. Of course, they'd want these answers. He'd have to repeat this over and over and over again in perpetual at this rate.
The reincarnate slumped in his seat but straightened as pain spiked across his back and added before anyone could ask, "The concept of pureblood and muggleborns and all that rot didn't exist.–" He looked up at them all. "–Not a thousand years ago…There were issues with muggles. We built a fucking castle to protect against them for fucks sake."
He pressed his lips together as he considered glazing over some of it but decided to just let it all out. It was probably better to come from him than Sally anyway. "Salazar has–did kill muggles but we all had at one point or other. I think even Helga did. I certainly killed my share of non-magicals and magicals simply because of my position as the sword for Hogwarts. And Salazar was often at my side and fought them and killed them with me…We never had an argument like the story claims, with Sal leaving after. People argue though so can't say we never argued at all…Salazar died before he could have any kids. The Gaunts…Riddle are very distant cousins…"
"You're also brothers," Nimue added helpfully as she reached out across the table and Arcturus' vacated seat to pat his arm. She then looked at the other adults as she clarified, "Salazar and Godric are brothers through some type of ancient ritual."
"Rituals," Godric offered tiredly, his gaze dropping to his bowl of soup, "Bonded by rituals ancient a thousand years ago. Brothers by blood, magic, and soul. Shield brothers is a common title, though that usually only implies the blood ritual and comradery of war veterans."
The door flew open and Arcturus Black stalked in dramatically, a box floated at his side. "I hope you listened and I haven't missed anything particularly important?"
"Nothing you don't likely already know in some fashion," Nimue offered
"Excellent," he offered as he lowered the box to the table and opened it. He guided the floating bowl up and to Godric. "Fill it up."
Godric nodded and tapped two fingers to his brow. After a moment, he pulled a silvery strand of memory out. It took a few minutes until the pensieve was filled with memories. This would take some time to watch.
"All of you should view it…all of it," the eleven-year-old stated as he rubbed at his eyes. He looked over the table of adults. "Hopefully one of you will have some type of insight."
"Four can view at a time," Arcturus offered.
oooP2ooo
(Albus)
He took a deep breath and sighed at the smell of fire and snow. There was a tang of farm life, as he liked to think of it. Hogwarts hadn't had that additional scent for several years now. The magical creatures kept didn't have the same type of smell as cows and their manure.
Albus smiled wearily at himself. It reminded him of his younger days and was one of the reasons he rather enjoyed visiting Arthur and Molly Weasley.
Their rather fantastically lopsided tower of a home rose amongst the snow as he strolled down the gravel lane. (More mud than gravel at this point but he knew what it should be and by summer time it would be that once more.) The door flew open and a little redheaded girl ran out, bundled up in knitted wear and warming charms for the weather.
"Mum, going to see Luna!" the child shouted before she happened to glance his way and ran a few steps before doing a double take. Her gaze was round as she spotted and took him in proper.
"Happy New Year, Miss Weasley!" he called out as he strolled toward her and her home, "Your parents are home, I hope?"
She nodded, eyes still round. Then she pivoted and bolted back to the door, slammed it open, and screamed into her home, "Mum! The Headmaster's here!"
Albus reached the porch as Molly materialized in the doorway, checks flushed from quick movement.
"What have they done now? It's the holiday!" she demanded, flustered.
He blinked, startled at the leap in logic, and then laughed. "I'm afraid this isn't Hogwarts business. I was wondering if Arthur was available also?"
Molly relaxed and nodded. "Oh, thank goodness." She looked down sharply at her daughter. "Would you be a dear and collect your father before going to Luna's?"
"But mum–"
"Thank you, dear," Molly said over her daughter's complaint and shooed her away. "Do come in Albus. I'll put the kettle on."
Albus followed the redheaded woman as she puttered back into her home. The click-click of knitting needles mingled with the soft crackling of fire in the fireplace. The immediate living area was surprisingly clean but then the Weasleys had just gotten back from Romania and their home had not had any of the boys in it for nearly half a year.
"How was Romania?" he asked for want of another topic as he waited for Arthur.
Molly flicked her wand about the kitchen as she led him into it. The kettle flew over to the sink and filled with water while the kitchen fire rose in intensity. She shrugged as she summoned a platter of tea cups and condiments with a little swishing motion in the shape of an 'n'. "Snowy but that's not surprising I suppose. All the dragons were hibernating for the winter also. The breeds there prefer snoozing through all the snow and cold. Smart of them, if you ask me. Ginny was disappointed that only a couple got out and flew while we were there."
She waved her wand and the kettle flew from the sink to the fire, its lid popping into place as it went. Molly turned to him and tutted, "Sit, sit. I'll just pop in some biscuits–"
"I don't expect to be here that long, my dear," Albus warned even as he claimed a seat in the long table squashed in a corner of the kitchen.
Albus perked up as the back door rattled and Arthur stepped in. "Albus," the lean man greeted him with a nod, "What can we do for you?"
"Do sit, Arthur," Molly ordered as she pushed a pan covered in little droplets of dough into the oven. "We'll have tea and biscuits in a moment."
"Thank you dear," the man offered cheerfully as he obeyed. He turned back to Albus. "Happy New Year, also."
Albus nodded at the pleasantries and decided to wait out Molly's coddling before he broached the important topic. It didn't take long for the kitchen to fill with the sweet smell of biscuits and for the kettle to scream out with steam. Molly expertly brought it all together at the table, the sweet treats on a festive platter and the steaming water in the kettle transferred into an equally festive teapot where black tea leaves swirled.
A reindeer cup with a blinking red nose was handed over a moment later. Albus added a few cubes of sugar and a dash of cream before he finally said, "Have you both heard the news? About the Council seats?"
"Oh," Arthur breathed out.
Molly sank into a seat, clasped a hand with Arthur's, and squeezed it.
Albus stifled a sigh. He shouldn't judge but he couldn't help but consider how unlikely Arthur had really known Liam Weasley. But, of course, everyone liked to act like they had known the tragic Pater Gryffindor. The boy had been a good decade, or so, younger than Arthur. And distant enough cousin that Arthur probably had only met the boy a couple of times in passing.
Arthur collected himself and offered, "I'm afraid we're still reconnecting with everyone since returning…but Septimus did floo me the moment we got back and asked after our sons, to see if any of them had claimed the House Patership."
"Charlie certainly hasn't," sniffed Molly.
"And I assume, since you are asking, that neither Percy, Fred, nor George have," Arthur concluded.
Albus nodded with a faint frown. "What of your eldest? Young William?"
"Bill hasn't flooed us back yet," Arthur admitted as he squeezed his wife's hand and glanced her way before he offered, "but I doubt he would have claimed it now. He works for the goblins. I would think the lot would have insisted on him going through a Claiming just in case."
The headmaster hummed in thought. It was debatable if the goblins cared enough to insist but it was also reasonable to question waiting this long to do a Claiming too. The more interesting bit was that Septimus, head of the Weasley Familia, was still looking for answers. Of course, he knew the pater had to be young. Certainly younger than William at least.
He claimed a biscuit before he offered, "Do let me know what he says…though, could it be a cousin from the colonies, perhaps?"
Arthur gave him a dubious look. "I…don't think any family has moved across the pond. Though, we do have a bunch of cousins I haven't kept in touch with.–" A pained look crossed his face. "–So many of them were killed too…"
"No one marrying out of the family either?" Albus offered as a last-ditch attempt at following the Weasley route for answers for the moment. It was entirely possible Arthur simply didn't know the right cousins but he would push as far as he could for the day.
Molly stifled a faint snort. Albus blinked over his half-moon glasses at her and watched as she flushed in embarrassment.
Arthur offered a soft chuckle. "I mean, someone could end up marrying into a Materfamilia but I can't recall any recent enough for it to likely matter. Only Romulus had any girls before us.–" He grimaced right after and noted quietly. "–Not that I'd consider that a likely route."
Albus frowned. He vaguely recalled Romulus Weasley. A Gryffindor. Good friends with Henry Potter and one of Minerva's younger brothers. Albus couldn't recall what had happened to the man after Hogwarts. So nothing particularly thrilling.
Seeing Albus' frown, Arthur explained vaguely, "Uhm…well…you see, his daughters ended up being squibs."
"Ah," Albus sighed in regret. "That does make it highly unlikely. Though it would be a little humorous if Pater Gryffindor ended up a child of a squib. As good as a muggleborn then."
"The purebloods would be screaming in outrage," huffed Arthur with a curiously, complicated expression—pained but also amused.
Albus nodded and took a few sips of his tea before pushing it toward the center of the table and rising with a smile. "Thank you for humoring an old man. I do hope you enjoy the remnants of the holiday."
The couple rose and nattered kind goodbyes as they followed him to their front porch and waved him goodbye.
He pivoted about and apparated, but not back to Hogwarts. Now that the Holidays were all but done with, he hoped to catch one other person before the Ministry, ICW, and Hogwarts jumped into the new year and his schedule became utterly filled with appointments.
Diagon Alley was cheerfully decorated for the holidays still. A little snow glistened in the early morning sun. Albus smiled cheerfully at the early shoppers who paused at spotting him. A newsstand still showed off images of the glowing trees from the Abbott and Malfoy parties. Their glow was both rather lovely but anyone who knew any of the more arcane arts would know the two were not comparable. The oak covered in glowing runes was a far greater mystery and accomplishment than the pretty illusionary apple trees.
It was another mystery he would love to dig up answers for but not today. Likely not until he had found the two mysterious Paters.—Though it was curious that so many oddities were occurring all at once. The likelihood that they were separate was possible and he would rather keep them separate for now but it was also rather likely they were related.
How, was the most curious aspect.
Albus strolled away from Gringotts, past the newsstand, and down the lane toward the Leaky Cauldron. A sharp right turn near the floo entries revealed the slightly tucked-away storefront for Ollivander's Wands. The bell over the door dinged as he entered.
Garrick Ollivander wandered into the front and gave Albus a rather unimpressed look. "If you're here about the glowing oak, there is nothing more to say on the matter. The gossip rags have covered all the ridiculous possibilities."
"Ah," Albus paused as he tried to think up why the Ollivander Pater would jump to that but he had admittedly not kept up on the details of the glowing trees beyond the Malfoy's adding to the spectacle. "No, I suppose there isn't," he mussed out with a smile before he offered, "I was actually looking into a curious matter of a wand. I'll leave the more enterprising members of society to debate the matter of glowing trees."
The wand crafter didn't lose his unimpressed stare. If anything, it gained a tinge of exasperation. "Really Albus, you're finally in need of a new wand? Lost your touch with the one my father crafted for you?–" The younger man tilted his head curiously at Albus. "–No…not that…Students going where they shouldn't?"
Albus blinked at that idea and the slight dangling pause Garrick gave as if expecting some reaction to it. It might be time to check the Trace tracker on the outer walls if a student had made their way to Diagon Alley and back without tripping it.—Though perhaps they were the ones that used the portkey back in October.
"Not that either," hummed the man before Garrick waved his hand beseechingly, "Well, go on. Enlighten me."
The headmaster pulled a stripe of parchment out and passed it to the wand crafter. "Do you have any idea which of your colleagues could have crafted with this material? I am looking to speak with the owner."
Garrick took the parchment with a raised brow. The other rose as he read the short description. "Quetzalcoatl feather…how interesting." His gaze flicked up to stare at Albus.
Albus tried not to sigh, knowing how Garrick refused to use anything but dragon, unicorn, and phoenix parts in his wands. He really rather avoid the debate on viable wand material.
"Whatever do you need to speak with the owner for?" Garrick asked as he handed the parchment back and wandered to the front desk. He ducked behind it and came back up with a thick book. It made an impressive thud as it was dropped to the tabletop. "Well?" pushed Garrick as he rested a hand on the cover.
He smiled benignly at the wand crafter. "A personal matter, I'm afraid."
"Hmmm," the man muttered with a long considering stare before he flipped the book open and then flipped it to the back appendix. He leaned over the book and slowly traced a long finger down the columns of tiny text as he noted, "Curious how you've gotten ahold of such information without knowing the owner, Albus…not something to gain the information of without certain skills. Or tools. And not something to only learn the inner ingredient. No wood? Not even the length? You might as well be hunting for a Bowtruckle in a briar patch."
Albus hummed back, knowing this would come up. He had debated on if it would be worth it. Ollivander was vain, though. He was counting on the fact that he had only the core material as another detriment for the man. Garrick was unlikely to contact his peers and competitors to find out the owner himself with so little information. He would only be laughed at for looking for that bowtruckle. Albus at least knew the age and sex of the owner.
"Well," Ollivander said as he flipped the book back to about the middle and nodded at what he read. He looked up to Albus as he stated, "There are two crafters that may use such an…inferior ingredient in this day and age. As of the last time this book was updated at least."
He smiled. That was excellent news. "And they would be?"
Ollivander gave Albus a long look before humming slightly once more and holding out a hand for the parchment still in Albus'. He handed it over and Ollivander pulled a self-inking quill out from its stand on the desk.
He left the store far richer in information than coming to it. Albus smiled widely at his various past students as he headed back to the designated apparition area outside of Gringotts. Alastor would be willing to chat with these two wand crafters and find out if any young man bound for Britain had purchased such a wand while he investigated the Hogwarts students directly.
It wouldn't be long now. They would find the boys.
oooP3ooo
(Arcturus)
There were several memories, many leaving Arcturus with questions that didn't pertain to the issue at hand. Seeing the Samhain visit with Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff was fascinating.—He wanted to know about the men present though. The memory didn't explain who they were. Nor did it show how Slytherin called them to visit as Gryffindor had said was possible. It jumped directly to a discussion about Slytherin's scar. (Understandable, of course, but this hint of their past lives was far too tantalizing to not wish for more.)
The battle with the possessed Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was horrifying on multiple levels.—Voldemort was not dead. War was just around the corner. All that had to happen was the dark lord regaining a body. And the anchor was a literal description. Whatever was in the scar was anchoring Voldemort to the living world.
The moment in the melted stone room with the mirrors left Arcturus with multiple questions surrounding how the room was melted more than the facts horrifyingly laid bare by the ritual markings against possession. At least until the end where the two founders just threw out the idea that Dumbledore wanted Harry Potter dead. The two sounded very certain. There must be information not in the shared memories that had proven this to the founders.—It was…Arcturus didn't know what to do with such a fact.
Gryffindor taking a look at the magic on his sword and what the boy felt during it was simply confusing.—Arcturus had a feeling Gryffindor would have to explain what it was that memory covered because all he could say was it had been some nasty magic.
Then there was a rehash of the part of the meeting with Sirius just after the ritual and answering the questions about the night the dark lord had been vanquished. More interesting, was where the founders had gone after the fact: to the hospital, to Alice Longbottom. Slytherin in the middle of completing dangerous magic to heal the woman's mind when he was attacked. The convulsions.
There was so much information to process. Nobody spoke. They all, in two groups of four, reclaimed their seats at the dining room table. Gryffindor watched them all with a carefully blank expression, though his gaze flicked to the windows and beyond to Slytherin every few moments.
Amelia Bones looked like she had sucked on a lemon when she joined the table of adults now in the know. She flicked her gaze from him, as she just witnessed Cassiopeia use veritaserum illegally on Sirius, and Godric Gryffindor, whom she saw help kill a man. Sadly (for her), she couldn't use the memories she had witnessed as evidence. Not under the circumstances she had witnessed them, nor due to the laws for veritaserum, and she knew it.
Still, it was better to have the woman on House Black's side (as much as that was possible at this point). Arcturus leaned back in his seat and offered, "I'll donate 2000 galleons to a charity of your choice."
"That's called bribery." grumbled the Law Enforcement Director.
He gave a slight shrug. "Your loss. Sirius will have to sue Cassiopeia either way for the veritaserum and you know he won't. Not if I toss his godson at him."
"His godson that's Salazar Slytherin," muttered Laelia Smith. She sounded utterly done with the day and it hadn't even reached noon yet.—He couldn't blame her. The founders had that effect on people.
"He'll get over that," Arcturus offered as he ignored her tone, quite certain Sirius would—after a fair bit of drama.
Bones huffed and turned her glare to Godric Gryffindor. The reincarnate turned back from staring out the window once more and blinked, startled, at her and her sharp glare.
"What?" Gryffindor asked, bewildered.
"You killed a man," she snapped.
"Technically," Nimue offered slowly as she leaned into the table to look properly over at the director, "it was self-defense?"
That redirected Bones' glare to Nimue.
Pater Gryffindor's brow furrowed as he frowned and tilted his head at the woman. "What does that matter?"
Bones made a rather outraged noise.
"Oh Merlin," breathed out Armistead Smith with a pained expression. His hand tugged nervously through his hair as he stated, "Murder is not the answer. It's highly illegal."
"And morally wrong," said Mater Hufflepuff, tone sharp with horror.
Gryffindor shot an annoyed look at the healer and blatantly ignored the Mater. "I'm aware of the laws. They don't count within Hogwarts though."
A beat of silence and then multiple people demanded all at once:
"What?"
"How is that possible?"
"You got to be kidding me."
"Excuse me!?"
The eleven-year-old rolled his eyes at them all and leaned back in his chair as he folded his arms across his chest. "Hogwarts has a set of core bylaws that were enacted with the magically enforced legal support of the Council. These bylaws have never been rewritten as it would have needed the Paters and Maters of Hogwarts—Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin—to submit the changes to the Council for approval. Salazar had no heir and his cousins who claimed some power lost it fairly quickly. Ravenclaw has never been claimed by any relative after Rowena died. Helena was already a ghost by then so she couldn't take up the mantle. There has literally been no legal route to change the core bylaws. And one of the laws not only gives us the right to defend the school up to killing the assaulter but also demands it of us."
"I haven't heard about these," Mater Hufflepuff said after a moment, "You're saying there are two sets of bylaws?"
Gryffindor nodded. "We have a set of bylaws that had to be enacted to allow the creation of Hogwarts in the first place. The Seven had their children they agreed to send us and doing so gave us the legitimacy we needed. But they only agreed to it after we agreed to certain bylaws. Then we added some as secondary that we didn't think needed to be magically binding on the same level. The core ones are primarily set for the protection of the children. The first is what I already noted, to defend the school and children from any hostile host and giving both permission and demanding we take the full required steps to do so, up to killing. The second requires all Hogwarts staff to not romantically or sexually pursue a student. It covers all active students from the time the person joins the staff."
There was a breath of quiet as Godric took a breath.
"The third–"
Nimue blurted, interrupting him, "Does that mean you two cannot marry anyone that ever went to Hogwarts as a student since you agreed to this when the school first opened?"
He paused in his explanation and stared at her for a long moment before he offered, "I mean…they're all babies anyway."
"Oh Merlin." she breathed out.
"That includes us," countered Arcturus as he tried to wrap his head around this. That meant any possible marriage-tied alliances were out for this generation of House Gryffindor and Slytherin. Perhaps for the best with the sticky issue of physical and mental age.
Healer Manuel scoffed, "Some of us did not go to Hogwarts. They would be welcome to court one of my cousins. I have a variety of different ages. One or two are bound to be mature enough, yet young enough to safely birth childre–"
Godric rubbed his hands over his face with a groan. "We're not talking about this." He looked up from between his fingers before he straightened and turned with a thoughtful frown to Nimue. "Though I could hunt through the Weasleys for an heir…but it would be interesting to raise kids with Sally this time around. And he has no choice but to sire kids, I think."
Nimue set her tea cup down and noted, "Couldn't you both find surrogates and complete the same ritual we did for myself and Sirius? Like the original plan House Black had?"
Gryffindor blinked at her, startled. "Huh."
"Hold up," ordered Healer Octavius as he leaned over the table to look past his wife and to Nimue, "You completed a ritual to become pregnant? When?"
Arcturus sighed as his granddaughter-in-law flushed and looked over at him in embarrassment. He groused, "That is beside the point here–"
"Have you been checked over by any healer since this ritual?" demanded the Travers-turned-Smith, fully ignoring Arcturus.
"Oh," Nimue startled, "No. But we only just completed it yesterday night."
"When you visited Sirius Black inappropriately at 10pm," groaned Bones as she slumped back in her seat in defeat. Arcturus could just see the "fuck-my-life" wrought across her expression. "You bleeding idiots completed a ritual in the middle of the Ministry?! When? How? The junior officers are not that blind–" She stilled. Her expression twisted about. "–They said nothing about the truth serum either…The memory doesn't show either of them present as regulation requires." She turned an accusing stare at Arcturus.
He raised his hands defensively. "I had barely anything to do with this. I only set the meeting up. You'll have to take up what happened during it all with Pater Slytherin."
"Besides the truth serum," Nimue countered quietly, with an apologetic glance his way. "Cassiopeia brought that without telling anyone."
A rather interesting noise escaped the poor woman. Anyone less dignified would have likely started tugging at their hair in aggravation. Arcturus pressed his lips together to keep from smirking in amusement. At least he wasn't the only one having to deal with crazy reincarnation bullshit anymore. It was rather refreshing actually.
His gaze flicked over the various Smiths. The group was hiding it decently well but shock was giving way to worry. Worry for what exactly, Arcturus wasn't certain on.
"I," Octavius Smith said a little desperately, "Really must insist on being your healer since I'm aware of the ritual and-and everything going on here."
The various Smiths were likely not on the same wavelength, Arcturus realized as he relaxed in his seat. Each must have some separate, slightly related, aspect to all this they were starting to worry over now that they've gotten past some of the shock.
"Oh," Nimue looked thoughtful. "I suppose that makes sense. It's been a bit of a rush. I hadn't considered a healer yet."
"You need an immediate check-up," agreed Healer Fortescue before she turned toward Arcturus, "And I assume Sirius Black will be removed from Azakaban–"
Bones interrupted. "If all checks out, he will be moved to a holding cell and I'll help set up a proper trial."
"What?" demanded Mater Hufflepuff. She frowned from Bones to him and back. "Why? I mean, I understand that he believes he didn't kill the muggles or Pettigrew but he's also been in Azakaban for ten years and cannot be right in the head anymore."
"There was no trial. Crouch used wartime privileges to toss Sirius into Azkaban without any legal process. I will be pushing for his immediate release from his illegal imprisonment during the Council in a few days. It's long past having a trial." Arcturus paused and turned to Gryffindor. "Which brings up yet another item. Your and Slytherin's Seats need to be filled."
"Yess, they do," slurred a voice from behind.
Armistead Smith rose quickly—Arcturus turned about in his seat, his gaze following the senior healer.—and demanded of the Slytherin Pater, "What are you doing up? The monitoring charm should hav–"
"That wass itchy. Had to take it off," mumbled the exhausted eleven-year-old as he shuffled toward Gryffindor. The female Hogwarts House elf trailed after him, gaze intent on Salazar. "Don't want it back on."
Nimue offered her seat to Slytherin who gladly shuffled around the table and took it. A bowl of soup materialized before him and he nearly drooped his head into it before he slumped back into the seat as he mumbled, "Thankss."
She nodded and backed away as the healers swarmed.
Slytherin made a face at the magic cast over him. He squeezed his eyes closed and made a slight noise but didn't tell them to stop.
Godric rumbled something entirely foreign. Salazar shook his head negatively in response.
The mind healer stepped away from Pater Slytherin as the last potion was given and said to the group, "I believe we've gotten thoroughly off-topic. The Council issue can be discussed between you all later. Some of us have jobs to get to. So let's focus on the health issues right now.–" The Italian gave them all a hard look before he turned to the founders. "–Let me see if I understand the issue as we know it.–" Godric nodded. Salazar picked up a spoon and frowned down at his soup. Manuel gave the boy an annoyed look but didn't admonish him for considering food. "–This anchor within the scar is a magical thing that ties the not-so-dead dark lord to Pater Slytherin and so keeps the…spirit from passing on. This anchor is intelligent enough to learn to transverse the internal metaphysical space of Pater Slytherin and attempt to invade his mind, yes?"
Gryffindor's expression hardened. "Yes."
The mind healer nodded. His dark gaze flicked over to the box of ritual notes and he waved at them. "You and Pater Slytherin believe this anchor was perhaps created as a side effect of the ritual that saved his life from the killing curse, yes?"
Slytherin followed the hand wave and perked up. He set the spoon down and reached out toward the box. Healer Hazel rose to move it but the entire thing rose on its own and floated toward the boy.
"Let's not do magic right now," ordered Hazel Fortescue as she caught the box, her voice slightly high at the sight of wandless and wordless magic from a half-awake, ill child. She carried it over to him but held it back as she shot him a hard look and said, "Agreed?"
Salazar Slytherin frowned—frankly it was basically a pout—but nodded. "Vvery well."
Gryffindor huffed at his fellow's antics but then added, "There is one other possible route, though I haven't spoken to Sally about it–" Slytherin shot him a frown over the document he had claimed from the box and Gryffindor shrugged, unrepentant. "–I showed my memory of what I experienced with the vile magic on my sword. I'm not certain if any of you have the training or knowledge to understand what I tried to show–"
Arcturus shook his head and noted all the other adults were doing the same.
"Well," said Godric with a sigh, "It's some type of unfinished ritual–"
"You interacted with an unfinisshed, activve, ritual that hass been ssitting around for ten yearss?!" Salazar snapped in horror as he dropped the parchment in hand and attempted to scramble to his feet. "Where iss–"
The healers still near him pushed him back into his seat. Gryffindor stood up to do the same but stayed back when he was not needed.
Instead, the Gryffindor Pater stated sharply, "You aren't touching it–"
"Godric–"
"No!" snapped the blond as he leaned over the table and into Slytherin's space, glaring him into submission, "That ritual was done that night because you were a component! You aren't going anywhere near it."
Slytherin slumped back and rubbed his face with his hands, pushing his glasses up over his hands and rubbing at his face. "I-It'ss–" His voice cracked. "–a part of the puzzzle. Part of the ansswer to removving thiss thing from my head."
"You can view the memory," Godric offered softly.
"You," countered Mater Hufflepuff with a tone of pure disbelief, "want to have him use an artifact that utilizes the mental arts? Under these circumstances?!"
Arcturus grimaced. There wasn't much choice. They had no answers from the memory but Slytherin had the needed expertise to find something, if there was anything to find.
"Do any of you know what the ritual on the ssword iss doing?" snapped Slytherin as he looked up at them all. "You'vve watched thiss memory."
Slytherin closed his eyes when none of them responded. "I am the only one here that knowss enough about ritualss–" He swallowed and pressed a hand to the bandage for a moment. He shook his head slightly and looked back at Mater Hufflepuff. "–I havve to look, even if it aggravvatess the anchor into attacking again."
She pursed her lips together and looked over to her father. Armistead looked to his fellow healers in turn. No one spoke up for or against the plan.
The blond boy went to the pensieve, removed most of the memories, and guided the floating bowl to Salazar. Nimue vacated that side of the table entirely and circled around to stand by Arcturus as the healers all drew their wands in preparation for dealing with a shit show. Slytherin leaned over the floating bowl and activated the artifact.
A stiff silence stretched between everyone, the healers were on edge for the seemingly inevitable repercussions of Slytherin using the pensieve. Everyone else prepared themselves for the screaming wail the anchor released during its past attacks.
Slytherin slid back into his seat a few minutes later. His head dipped and his eyes slid closed. Nothing more seemed to happen, though.
"Sally?"
Green eyes jumped up to the blond, a lack of understanding of why he had been called clear by his blank expression. Gryffindor rose but the healers waved him back as they went through multiple health checks.
Healer De Laurentis made a startled noise. "Very odd." He stepped closer and spun his wand in a complicated motion. "I…I think it is being confronted by Pater Slytherin as we speak…but why no seizur–" He jerked back as the magic flashed. Slytherin suddenly arched. The chair was magiced back and the boy forcefully raised flat into the air in time to keep him from harming himself as he began to convulse. "–Gryffindor! His tattoos! Can you force them off?"
"What?" Godric asked.
The anchor's wailing screams began. Arcturus wasn't certain if he was imagining the convulsions becoming worse.
"I saw it also," agreed Healer Fortescue as her wand danced in the air and spells swirled about the floating, convulsing boy, "The tattoos are what is leading to the seizures. Or at least part of the reason."
Gryffindor's expression twisted with uncertainty. "I..the ones activating are a failsafe type. There isn't a simple way to keep them from activating. That's the whole point of them, to automatically activate where needed."
The convulsions faded faster than before. Slytherin was immediately bathed in more healing spells of an indeterminate form.
As things calmed down, Mater Hufflepuff said, "It's too bad you both decided to recreate these tattoos so soon in this life."
Slytherin slurred out as he blinked his eyes open, "W-we didn't."
He was lowered down to his feet where Healer Armistead helped hold him upright and immediately guided him back into the chair. The other healers backed away, having done what they could, and reclaimed their seats.
"What do you mean by that?" the copper-haired man asked as he stood at Slytherin's side.
"They appeared on us when I regained my past memories entirely," Gryffindor answered, "It was…a tad dramatic. I probably should have regained my past memories over the next seven or so years compared to Sal. I was recalling them in dreams before the–uh–incident…Sally recalled it all by the time he was three or something."
"The ritualss to create our tattoos aren't to be done before a persson iss older," Slytherin added as he lifted his head and looked at them all with bloodshot eyes. He closed his eyes and his head dipped again. "It can be too much sstresss for a child's body. They uss the perssonss magic when activve…Unlesss..unlesss you can pull on the leyliness and sset the ritual markss to usse that insstead."
"That's exhausting, too," Godric countered softly, "Takes longer to feel it but it still puts a physical toll on the person."
A beat of quiet flickered amongst them before Arcturus decided to ask the hard question that came to mind. "Do you have any idea the consequences of them activating now, when you're physically eleven?"
The founders shared a look before Slytherin shook his head and Gryffindor offered a helpless shrug. Armistead and Nimue, the only humans still standing, found seats.—Nimue claimed Armistead's vacated seat at Arcturus' side and the healer took on the same side as Slytherin.—The Hogwarts House elf shuffled to stand between Slytherin and Gryffindor but slightly away from the table so that both were in her sight at the same time.
"Well," Healer De Laurentis said, "the one activating on you right now is causing the seizures–"
"No," Slytherin countered and pointed at the box of ritual notes, "Not on itss own.–" He closed his eyes for a moment before forcing them back open. "–I…It iss–I cannot conccentrate oncce the attack reachess the point of the convusslionss…but…my ritual markss flare to life and then other ritual markss flare about the anchor an insstant later and then I cannot–can't…" He trailed off and shook his head.
Gryffindor leaned over the table and plucked one of the notes up about their mothers' ritual. "They're interacting with each other. One was designed to evict the anchor but the other is demanding that the anchor must stay put. They're clashing."
"To devastating effect," muttered Healer Fortescue.
A beat of silence fell over the group as they all stared at the innocent-looking box of notes. Arcturus found himself sharing grim looks with Nimue, Amelia, and Healer Armistead. The only person present that would likely be able to make heads or tails of those notes was Salazar Slytherin and he was in no position to dig through those notes right now. Gryffindor probably could figure some or all of it out after a time—It seemed clear Gryffindor understood more than the basics but also had not claimed mastery of the two arts converged here, rituals and runes—but the boy needed rest and healing too. The founders were opening up to them for help but Arcturus didn't know what help any of them could truly offer.
Nimue said, "I can try compiling it all into notes or related piles…or something?"
Godric shook his head. "I'd rather we keep the notes in the order they are in. It would be easier to understand how they came up with the ritual that way, I think." His gaze shifted to his fellow founder. "You're going to have to do most of the lifting for figuring out this new ritual but there are other parts we can try to help figure out too. What did you think of the ritual on my sword?"
Salazar grimaced and muttered, "Dementorss eat ssoulss."
Arcturus frowned. "What–"
"Shit," slipped out of Godric, drawing everyone's attention. The boy had stiffened in his seat, eyes wide with horror. He rambled his new understanding. "Soul magic. This keeps coming back to that.—It was trying to take my soul?!"
Arcturus sucked in a breath at that horrible description. A ritual to take a soul like a dementor. A ritual that ate souls. What the hell had the dark lord been doing?
"Couldn't grassp it." Slytherin answered slowly as his brow furrowed. "Your ssoul wassn't…right?"
"Merlin." breathed out multiple people.
Amelia Bones finally spoke as everyone sat around in horror. "Soul magic is not something just anyone knows about. By both your reactions, that's true for you both also–"
Gryffindor nodded.
Salazar slurred out, "Nothing like thiss."
"Druids don't have anything to do with harming the soul," agreed Godric, "nor have you ever delved into crafting rituals to do such either."
A few people made odd noises. Arcturus glanced at Nimue with a frown as he tried to figure out what was so startling to them this time. She whispered, "druid."
"Ah." That hadn't come up yet, had it?
"The glowing tress at the Abbott party is your fault, then," grumbled Amelia.
Salazar made a face back at her and mumbled, "Not all leyline crossings have groves."
Bones narrowed her gaze at the boy for a moment in turn but then continued with her original point instead of asking for clarification from the ill child. "So we've soul magic rituals to research. Carefully. If we can find anything about soul magic to research…That is going to take time." She pointed at Slytherin. "What we need now is to forcefully keep the tattoo magic from activating, if possible–"
"There iss ink that can be ussed," Slytherin offered, "I don't know how it iss created now…I mean I know the ingredients by names they aren't called now–" His brow furrowed. –"Nor do I know what the ink might be called if itss ssomething to purchasse now."
"That doesn't sound promising," Mater Hufflepuff noted worriedly, "Is there no other option?"
Salazar Slytherin blinked over at her and visibly hesitated. His gaze flicked over to Godric. Gryffindor frowned back at him and the two just stared at each other for a moment as if they were mentally talking to each other—which, if not for the circumstances, Arcturus would have believed was entirely possible.
"What is the other option?" ordered Healer Manuel, "Spit it out."
The brunet reincarnate grimaced but obliged. "I could usse my blood insstead. It would have to be reapplied more often than the ink."
A beat of silence fell. Then it was ripped to shreds by the harsh response.
"Blood magic?!" demanded Mater Hufflepuff as she sprang up from her seat, "That's dark magic!"
"Such practices are illegal!" snapped Amelia Bones as she rose also, her chair skidding backward.
Healer Octavius demanded as he leaned across the table towards the founders but stayed seated, "You'd be using how much of your blood on top of bleeding so much from your head?"
A bang rang out and the room flared bright as the flames in the fireplace flared large, silencing everyone as Gryffindor sprang to his feet and slammed his hand to the table. His eyes were gleaming and flickering with a golden flame. The smell of burned wood floated up with a whisp of smoke from where his hand pressed to the table.
"I. Don't. Give. A. Shit." he growled out, "The ink will take time to figure out. We'll use Sally's or my blood. And we don't need any of you here to do so."
Another, more muted beat of silence followed.
Then Mater Hufflepuff asked, "I…" She made a frustrated noise before she started over. "I know that we don't know anything about either of you, not really, and its been a thousand years…but…but what we do know all indicates only one of you used dark magi–"
"There is no such thing as light or dark magic, woman." Godric Gryffindor snapped, "And I am not going to stand here to try to explain that right now. That Salazar's masteries are nearly all considered either illegal or heavily regulated…or I supposed outdated and useless or whatever you all think of runic magic…doesn't mean they are dark magic. It doesn't make Salazar evil just because you all are ignorant of what those magics are or do. And none of you have any right to sit on your high horses proclaiming magic you know bollocks about is evil. Particularly when it's magic that could help in this situation."
Salazar said, quietly from his seat. "We don't know why ssocciety has proclaimed magic ssplit into light and dark, Mater Hufflepuff. But each of uss, including Helga, would have been conssidered dark in thiss day and age and that cannot be ssimply becausse of new undersstanding of how magic workss. It appearss far more political. From my persspectivve, at leasst."
Godric sighed, shoulders slumped. He reached up and rubbed at his eyes as he sank back into his seat. A burn mark vaguely in the shape of his hand remained on the table. "We can talk about this later, Mater. But I will do what has to be done to help Salazar. Even if it breaks stupid laws."
"Not all laws are stupid," Amelia offered, speaking softly to avoid provoking the tired and overly powerful eleven-year-old.
"No," Godric agreed readily as he looked up to the director, "but there are certainly some that are questionably foolish."
Everyone stayed quiet. Arcturus didn't know about the others—Amelia looked pained. Mater Hufflepuff looked lost. Healer Octavius was frowning across the table at Nimue.—but he needed to write a giant list of questions down to ask the two reincarnates once they were feeling better and caught up on sleep.
Armistead Smith was the one to break this silence. His voice was firm as he said, "Before anything else, we need to get you both sleep."
Godric frowned across the table at the healer. "Then we need to do the bloo–"
"No," Slytherin countered, drawing a sharp look from Gryffindor. He shook his head at Godric. "No, Rie. You're the only one that I trusst to draw it out right. I can't do it mysself ass it musst be drawn over the ritual markss activating, on my back. You need ssleep sso you don't sscrew it up."
"And," countered Gryffindor slowly, "don't you need sleep so you can feel confident that you wrote it all up correctly for me to trace on your back?"
The two stared at each other. Slytherin hissed something. A weary grin flickered across Gryffindor's face.
"One of us could learn to trace this out properly while you both sleep," offered the mind healer.
"That'ss going to take forever," groused Slytherin.
"We're going back to Hogwarts tomorrow," Gryffindor added as if in agreement.
They all gave the boys looks of disbelief at that.
"We cannot raise Dumbledore's attention more than has already been done." the blond boy snapped.
"Ah," Mater Hufflepuff muttered, "I was trying to ignore that part about Dumbledore wanting Slytherin dead…Only for the moment, of course...just doesn't feel as important as other things right now."
"Potter," Gryffindor corrected sharply, "That old man is planning for a child to die at some point. Not sure when. Maybe he'll wait until Harry Potter is technically an adult. But he's been planning this since he learned of a stupid prophecy. Which was before either of us was even born this time around. The man doesn't have a bleeding clue that Potter is Salazar. He's been planning a child's murder."
Still was, Arcturus silently noted. There was no denying the two were still children. Which brought up another point. "On that note," Arcturus stated, "we all need to sign a privacy contract of some type. The healer oaths will not cover all of this. I can call on my notary."
The Hogwarts founders nodded at him.
Mater Hufflepuff turned her gaze sharp onto Arcturus. "I'll have mine come over also."
He nodded at her as he rose.
"They don't need to be awake for that," groused Healer Manuel as he got up and pointed at the founders. "You both need sleep. Let's see if we can find a way to achieve that."
oooP4ooo
(Laelia)
Magic rushed out from Salazar Slytherin, flinging Manuel across the dining room. Multiple quickly cast spells caught the mind healer and softened his fall. One even moved the furniture out of the man's way. Hazel and Amelia rushed over to him to help him up.
Laelia shared a look with her father before she looked back at the founders. The blond gave them all an "I-told-you-so" look while the brunet just looked apologetic even though it was his own mind he was instinctively protecting with skills he had mastered from a past life. She turned back to Manuel in hopes he had a better answer than the Hogwarts founders.
"Right," Manuel announced once he was back on his feet and checked over for any broken bones. "That's not going to work. Pater Gryffindor will have to be the one to hold the anchor back so Pater Slytherin can get some sleep.–" He made a face and shot an intent look across the room toward the founders. "–When this all is over with, we really must sit down to discuss the how about far too many aspects of the mental arts. Clearly, too much has been forgotten over the centuries.–"
"It cannot be that hard to learn how to hold this thing back," Hazel countered in frustration, "We cannot leave this to the eleven-year-olds! Both need sleep."
He dusted his robes off and shook his head in disgruntlement. "I was starting to get the concept down, a little, but it is entirely wandless work. And Slytherin has to trust me completely to be able to fall asleep while I'm invading his metaphysical sphere. That's just not going to happen." He looked over to the dining table. "How's the contract going?"
Paul Clearwater and her notary, Alexis Warrington, stared wide-eyed back.—Laelia knew how they felt. This day could not end sooner so she could find a bottle of wine and soak in a bath while digesting the sheer amount of impossible revealed.
Alexis coughed slightly before he offered, "It's ready for review by all of you."
Pater Black rose to take the first look at the document. Laelia stepped up to look at it after him.
"Well," sighed Hazel as she walked over to the founders, "Let's get you two comfortable so at least one of you is sleeping. I assume Gryffindor is going to hold the anchor back so you, Slytherin, can sleep for now?"
The two boys shared a look before Slytherin reluctantly needed. "I need ssleep to draw up the dessign for resstricting the ritual markss."
"And I can sleep while he's drawing those up," Gryffindor agreed.
The door opened. Octavius and Nimue Black stepped back into the room. The redheaded woman was smiling slightly. Laelia's husband, in turn, looked a little discombobulated.
The redhead announced, "I'm officially pregnant." Pater Black grinned in delight, a startling look on the elder where the few times she had seen him he had always looked disgruntled with the world.
"Yes," Octavius stated before his gaze snapped over to Slytherin, "Which I'd love to understand better because all scans indicate that the blastocysts are implanted already. Three weeks of development for at least twins in a night...I–how?"
Both founders stared at Octavius blankly. Slytherin helpfully muttered, "I feel like we sshould undersstand that sstatement but neither of uss had much to do with babiess until delivery."
There was a pause of breath. Then all the various healers in the room tried to ask all at once. Octavius was the loudest though. "You were involved in delivery?!"
"Itss part of the dutiess of a druid to aid," Slytherin offered, "Midwivess did the majority of ssupport, of coursse. It wass a womanss expertisse and there wass no good reasson to interfere where not wanted or needed. We helped magically but mosstly for the Motherss Bath."
"The Mothers Bath," repeated Laelia, her gaze locked on the exhausted founder with awe as she realized, "It's real? What exactly is it?"
"Later," interrupted Hazel with an apologetic look over at her, "And I do mean that.–" She turned back to the founders. "–I would like to know also but for now sleep. Let's get a cot conjured up…" The three went to a corner of the room.
"Laelia."
She forced herself to refocus and turned to her father. He nodded toward the table. The contract to keep quiet waited. She nodded and focused on that. There were more important things to do than goggling at the male founders of Hogwarts being ordered to bed by Hazel Fortescue.
There was a section Black insisted on including that allowed all of them to discuss everything that happened there with others who knew that the founders were reincarnated into Harry Potter and Neville, not just with the people in the room. Laelia frowned over that section once more, wondering who all knew but both founders had been fine with the section's inclusion as long as it included requiring their permission to give such information so she didn't push. Clearly, the two knew who Black wanted to bring up to date on all this—Black had already spoken to the two quietly for permission but she hadn't caught the name.
It didn't take all that long to read through a final time. The blood quill was pulled out and they all lined up to sign it. Her father signed first before he crossed the room and took over for Hazel so the Head of St. Mungo's could review and sign the document also.
The two notaries handled finalizing the doc, adding their signatures last and drying the blood magically.—Her gaze wandered over to Paul Clearwater specifically. The man had not been even slightly surprised by the existence of the founders.
What had the Blacks convinced the boys into signing?
Her lips pressed thin. She looked over what felt like her fellow conspirators. Arcturus and Nimue Black moved to one side of the conservatory doors once they had each signed the contract. Amelia frowned at everyone in turn from a seat by the notaries. The healers were all grouped around the founders, making various checks and muttering with each other as they prepared to leave them under her father's care.
They, and she supposed Arthur Weasley's young twins as seen in Godric Gryffindor's memories, knew the male Hogwarts founders had returned. At least one other Black knew also. Lucasta's remark about Luna Lovegood and her little cousin, Hannah Abbott, heavily implied the two little girls also knew. That was too many people in the know, especially when the boys were so young and hurt.
The contract glowed once the last signature dried and replicated itself multiple times over so that each signee had a copy. Paul and Alexis each took part of the stack to review and pass out.
When he received his copy, Manuel announced, "I've rounds to make and then I'll dig for any cases even slightly similar to this." Then the man stalked out of the dining room before anyone could complain. No one did, though. It was a good route to take, even if it was unlikely to bring results.
The Head of St. Mungos picked up her outer healer robe. Her silver-streaked hair had fallen from its usually orderly bun. She looked utterly done with the day already and it was barely reaching eleven. Hazel Fortescue stated, "I also have to leave. I'm late for far too many meetings…But, Armistead, please work with the two to designate an adult for their secondary medical contacts. Different ones, preferably. Or more than one.–"
Her father nodded in understanding.
It was a tall order in Laelia's opinion. The two didn't trust anyone enough.
"I'm putting you on leave," Hazel added, "Officially going to be taking that sabbatical I've been telling you to take for the last few years."
"Suppose that works," Armistead agreed.
"Mum's going to kill you when she finds out," Laelia countered, "She's been talking about using that time for a vacation through Asia."
Hazel shrugged. "It can be changed in the paperwork later but this needs to be figured out as soon as possible while being kept under wraps.–" She looked over to Octavius. "–I can't have you both off though.–" Octavius nodded. "–Well, I'm gone…I'm going to hold off having anyone from Spell Damage pulled into this but let me know if you think their perspective will be helpful.—Fanni will be back from holiday in a few days.—Keep me up-to-date on the medical side of things in general, Armistead. I'd like to ignore the rest of this…Though, let me know if we're pulling in Houses. I can have Mater O'Callanan and Pater Fortescue brought into it all."
Pater Black snorted and folded his arms across his chest.—He would take convincing to bring in anyone else. Not that the man was in a position to make such decisions. But she also didn't foresee the two founders reacting much differently to the idea.
"We're off also," offered Paul Clearwater, including Alexis in that statement.
Hazel swept from the room and the two notaries followed.
A pause of contemplative silence stretched between the remaining adults. Her gaze turned to the eleven-year-olds. Dark shadows hung under their closed eyes. Gryffindor's hands were pressed to Slytherin's shoulders. His head was slumped forward so that his chin rested against his chest. Godric Gryffindor didn't look comfortable as he slumped over Slytherin. But at least Slytherin appeared to be successfully resting.
She swallowed as she considered what they now knew about the sleeping brunet and the mediating blond.
Harry James Potter. The-Boy-Who-Lived. Pater Slytherin. The Salazar Slytherin.—Neville, once of Longbottom. Pater Gryffindor. The Godric Gryffindor.
Merlin. What had the Longbottoms done?
In one fell swoop the House had made enemies in House Slytherin and House Gryffindor. And, while there was a great number of things to figure out, Laelia suspected House Hufflepuff would stand at their side. They may not call a feud, even if Gryffindor or Slytherin did so in the future, but she would guide her House to ally with the boys.
It seemed only natural that House Hufflepuff was against House Longbottom by doing so. She wondered who else the founders would consider allies and enemies. Some would likely be Houses she considered allies and even friends.
There wasn't really any other option for House Hufflepuff, though. To not stand at their side was a foolish thing in general but everyone and their mothers would assume House Hufflepuff was at their side. If they weren't, that assumption would make things difficult.
And did she really, seriously think she shouldn't ally with the other Hogwarts Houses?
Her lips twisted as she considered the boys' thoughts on light and dark magic, and on following laws. These eleven-year-olds were murderers too—Was it murder if it was self-defense? Did the killing in their previous lives count? Or was society so different 1000 years ago to give allowance for murder back then?
Who was she fooling? The two eleven-year-olds would kill whoever they felt they had to. It was just the matter of what fell within their sphere of "had to".
Laelia shook her head of thoughts she needed to have when alone and considered Hazel's parting offer to bring in other Houses before she said, "We cannot bring in anyone else."
"There are far too many people aware already," agreed Pater Black.
Laelia squashed the weird feeling of having a Black agree with her.
"I'd like to bring Laurinda in," her father countered, "The Abbotts should be part of this so Chris also."
"By that argument," Octavius countered quietly as he claimed a seat at the dining table., "The Fortescues, O'Callanans, and Travers should be brought in."(1)
Laelia joined her husband at the table, claiming her own seat. A scattered mess of used tea cups and plates covered its surface along with a small stack of the ritual notes someone needed to put back into the ornate wooden box. She glanced over at the founders and spotted their shadows. The two House elves stood watch over the eleven-year-olds, entirely ignoring the mess.
Laelia turned back at the grumbling noise that escaped her father and nodded in agreement with Octavius. "Mum will have to stay ignorant for now, Dad. Half the bleeding purebloods would be brought into this if we follow that logic."
Her father shot a frustrated look at her but turned in his seat to watch the boys.
Amelia sighed. "Right, well. I also have meetings to deal with. I only set aside part of my morning for, well, Neville's guardianship." She grimaced. "I'm going to have to file something still, too."
"They've been emancipated, basically." offered Black, "This should be good enough–"
"They are eleven," snapped Laelia.
He scoffed at her. "With memories of being however old from their past lives."
Laelia bit back a noise of frustration. Every instinct screamed that she needed to bundle the two up and hide them from the world for the next seven years, show them where to get bloody haircuts (because, dear Merlin, did they need some), take away their wands whenever they started casting ridiculously dangerous battle magic (technically already done, though Gryffindor got his back somehow and it didn't appear to matter much), and send them to bed without dinner when they went after mountain trolls and possessed defense professors (a work in progress). She highly doubted the two would appreciate any of that if she tried and their ability with wandless magic made it a tad difficult to succeed if she did.
Then there was the part of her that felt ill at having little murderers who used dark magic under her roof.
So she needed to be there for the two while not suffocating them because of their physical age—and may not invite them to her home for now—except they were eleven and needed a safe place to stay—execpt murderer—children outside their time—not really children—but sort of family all the same.
Laelia shook her head sharply, knowing there was no wining the internal debate without getting to know the two founders more.
She needed to make certain the Black's influence, for however much that might be, was mitigated too.
Merlin, what has her life decided to become?
She didn't know if this would have been simpler or harder if her own ancestor had been reborn. Laelia liked to imagine a very calm, collected, perfectly happy to-be-a-kid, Helga Hufflepuff…but she doubted that would have been the case. The woman had to of been the easiest one to deal with under such strange circumstances though. (Laelia was going to firmly believe that to her grave and no one was going to convince her otherwise. Certainly not Black or Salazar Slytherin or Godric Gryffindor.)
Amelia sighed. "I suppose I could file documents about their emancipations, and bury it under years of bureaucracy…"
"If we brought the Abbotts in, we could ask Julia to help hide that," offered Armistead.
Laelia coughed back her laugh at her father's second attempt at pulling in Mum. She knew he made an effort to not have any secrets from her mum outside what the patient-healer relationships required but this was so much more than the usual fair of secrets he avoided.
The director shook her head. "I'll handle it fine, thank you. Though–" She shot a narrowed-eyed look at the Blacks. "–before I go, I'd like to understand this.–" She waved her hand at Nimue Black. "–What is my cousin doing pregnant with Sirius Black's twins?"
Arcturus Black's smirk vanished. "That's a private matte–"
"Techincally," Octavius interrupted, "its still too early to say its twins."
"What?" Nimue asked even as Amelia responded to Arcturus.
"Really?" snapped Amelia, "Nimue is my cousin, Black. I have every right to make certain you aren't using her!"
Octavius answered Nimue while Arcturus and Amelia glared at each other, "There's two blastocyst so, if all goes well, you have at least twins but one or both may divide into two or more embryos."
Nimue tried to say something. Laelia cut her off before this could derail. "And, Black, if it has anything to do with contracts you signed with either of the boys," Laelia added sharply at Arcturus, "I have to insist you explain it. They are eleven and no matter their reincarnation and magic deeming them legal adults, I will take you to court if you tried to pull a fast one."
The old man sighed. "Fine," he grumbled, "I and Pater Slytherin met at the start of the holiday. He wanted to meet his godfather, Sirius. I had originally planned to convince him to take up the Black name and become my heir. One hospitium ritual later and all my plans blew up…He offered to use a ritual to impregnate a woman of my choice, as long as she was fully aware of what she was agreeing to and was freely willing. I just had to set up that meeting with Sirius. You can confirm all this with him later. I'll even leave a note telling him so."
"Forgive me, but why would you choose Nimue?" Amelia asked before offering an apologetic look at her cousin. "She's a squib."
"What?" Octavius blurted out as Laelia couldn't stop her gasp. Her father's turned to look over at them at this announcement.
Laelia met her father's gaze, with her own wide eyes. Why would Black pick a squib? That didn't make any sense. He wanted to guarantee magical children, didn't he?
Black looked over at Nimue and his expression softened a tad before he glanced at the two eleven-year-olds on the cot in the corner. "Pater Slytherin explained," he answered as he looked back to them, "when I had a moment trying to figure out how to find a woman that would be willing, that squibs were not squibs."
"He showed me my core," Nimue offered with shiny eyes. Her hands pressed to her chest. "It's covered in what he and Godric describe as contamination. Its residue from spells and can be generational…I…I don't think I could explain it as well as they can." She hesitated and then smiled a little watery at them. "But I have magic and there are purification rituals that can help slowly remove the contamination from my core so I'll eventually be able to cast spells too."
Laelia stared at Nimue, lips parted as she tried to diguest the claims being spouted. She wanted to demands answers but she was still trying to understand all the implications of this information—Squibs weren't squibs? Was that always true? How could that be possible?
Arcturus Black nodded in agreement at her words before he said, "Pater Gryffindor ended up interrupting our meeting with Nimue, claimed her as a Gryffindor, and butted into the agreement discussion–"
"Wasn't much of a discussion before he showed up," muttered Nimue.
"–It ended with Nimue agreeing to marry Sirius. Hence, Nimue Black. House Gryffindor and House Black have a marriage contract in place so that's the other contract."
Amelia looked thoughtful but said, "Romulus–"
"Knows," Nimue interrupted, "He was there when Godric interrupted and then claimed me as a Gryffindor. And for the marriage contract signing too."
"I see," muttered Amelia before she offered a smile, "I suppose it's congratulations then Nimue."
The redhead beamed. "Yes…" Her smile softened to a slight frown and she glanced over to Pater Black. "We'll see how this goes with Sirius being freed, though."
"So," Armistead spoke up as he claimed a seat at the dining table, angled so he could see the two boys in the corner but still be part of the discussion, "Who all actually knows about our reincarnated founders? The group from today. Romulus…Weasley?"
Nimue nodded.
"Who else," Laelia demanded as she noticed Arcturus shifted back slightly from the table. She folded her arms across her chest when he tried to give her an innocent look in return. "Who. Else."
The man huffed. "I think you keep forgetting that they are adults. Short, tiny but legally adults."
Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose as she sighed with feeling. "Just answer the question, Black. We all should be aware of who knows. For the contract's sake at the very least."
The man scoffed and folded his arms across his chest too.
"Who knows will come out," Nimue offered quietly to the man, "Why keep mum about it now?"
Arcturus grumbled to himself before he admitted, "Cassiopeia, my daughter, and great-granddaughter are aware…I believe Arthur Weasley's twin sons know also and the memory of Pater Gryffindor's does prove that fact. My cousin Cygnus and his wife will be made aware due to the contract with Slytherin but I haven't gotten ahold of them yet. It's been a busy holiday…But they all will keep quiet."
"That's a lot of people," muttered Octavius.
"As Nimue said," Arcturus countered with a shrug, "It's all going to come out eventually. It's just a matter of how they want to handle their reveal. Which goes back to their Council Seats."
"Something to discuss with them before they go back to school," agreed Armistead, "but not until they both have gotten sleep."
Amelia stood up. "And we cannot plan much on the next steps until we know if this plan to stop the tattoos from activating works."
"A meeting, then." Arcturus stated, "Tomorrow before they go back to Hogwarts."
"They won't be taking the train," Armistead stated firmly. "I will not allow them to do that. We can have them join the crowds exiting the train at Hogsmeade."
"So a meeting tomorrow at noon," Laelia decided, "At my home."
Pater Black shot her a frown. "That's not neutral gro–"
"We aren't going to all show up at the Drunken Unicorn or another meeting ground without drawing far too much attention," Laelia snapped back, "And they are not staying here in their condition. This manor's floo is wide open and who knows how its property enchantments are. This is not properly secure."
Amelia nodded. "Moving them once Slytherin's gotten some sleep, then. But I won't be able to make the meeting. I can stop by in the evening sometime this week to catch up, though."
Laelia fought her expression, she hadn't planned on taking them to her house until they had a serious discussion about magic and their lives—past and present—but she wasn't going to go back now. It was better this meeting happened on Hufflepuff grounds instead of Black grounds anyway. She offered Amelia a sharp nod as she silently fought over her spontaneous decision.
"It would be nice to have them somewhere I can easily watch over while enjoying the grandchildren before they all head out," Armistead added with faux cheer. She relaxed at that announcement. Her father would be spending the night at the manor. Another adult to help if the reincarnates become combative would be good. Also meant Mum would be around too, even if she'd have no clue they were housing the male founders of Hogwarts who had somehow gotten reincarnated into the two most famous eleven-year-olds around at the moment.
Arcturus huffed but nodded. "Fine."
oooPooo
1. To help keep things a little clear. Octavius lists these three Houses because:
- He is the younger brother of Pater Travers, who we met at the Malfoy Ball
- Hazel Fortescue is married to Florean Fortescue, brother of the Fortescue Pater who we met at the Malfoy Ball. Hazel is a cousin to the O'Callanan Mater.
This doesn't go into how it would naturally expand from there. Pater Traver's wife and Mater O'Callanan's husband are from Houses also. Both have children who may be married to people from other Houses too.
