Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me.
Godric son of Griffin the Silversmith had not intended to have an adventurous life.
His plans during his childhood had revolved around learning his father's trade. He had thought he might set his mind to refining it a bit - thinking of some better way of completing the tasks perhaps, but his mind had been very much focused on where and when he was. It was Gareth that had the aspirations beyond what they had always known. His elder brother had been a collector from Godric's earliest memories. He craved the stories that might be brought by a passing traveler the way other children craved the attention of their mother.
It was by accident that Godric discovered that he had a natural affinity for the protective arts. It was nature that made him lacking in inclination to refuse his assistance when it was requested. He had been raised by parents that held to the principle that gifts were granted to be used, so he found himself spending his youth traipsing around with Gareth searching out those in need of aide as well as those in need of challenge. The lion and the raven were the names by which the smallfolk referred to them in their tales around the fire.
Gareth gathered knowledge of what was needed, and Godric pounced when the time was right (as if any of the people telling the tales even knew what it might look like when a lion pounced, but the cruelties of the entertainments of Rome were still well enough remembered). It had taken rather a while before he stopped resenting the implications (intended or not) of the comparison.
Gareth had married the only child of a family that had both the means and the inclination to make the collection of manuscripts of a variety of origins their pastime of choice. He lost his desire to travel somewhere along the way. He was pleased to have knowledge come to him instead of being forced to go out in pursuit of knowledge, and Rowena had been all too pleased to spend her days finding the practical applications for his theoretical suppositions. There had still been some collaboration in those early days, and the Raven's Claw (as they dubbed his brother's bride) had her fair share of time in the stories.
Godric, on the other hand, had found that travel suited him, and the girl who had followed Rowena to her new husband's home as companion and maidservant was as content to allow him his wanderings as she had been to accept his proposals. Elise was a treasure beyond any other he had found, and he would be pleased to be home with her again once he completed his task at his brother's widow's home. He would be glad to put his wanderings to the side for a time to enjoy his wife and children.
That, in any case, had been the plan. As was often the case in his experience, the plan did not come to fruition as expected. Rowena was proving to be far more difficult to deal with than he had allowed for in his calculations (which was, perhaps, why he was so often encouraged not to try to predict other people's actions as part of his calculations).
Godric is not particularly good at being soothing. This is something that he knows. His banishment from his wife's side when she was bedridden before the birth of their fourth is a testament to that. He would prefer to forget, but she likes to use it as a reminder of why their children prefer to do their crying on her shoulder. In his defense in this particular instance, he never expected to need to do any soothing of his sister-in-law.
Rowena has always been rather self-contained. She values knowledge and logic. One would think that such a woman would not sink so in the face of troubles. He does not know what it is like to be severed from one's spouse (prefers not to think of it truly), but the picture of what his Elise would have to say if he ever just brushed off their children over missing her is enough to reassure himself that it is not a danger for him.
Rowena is moping, but that is being hidden behind her claim of mourning. He did not know Salazar at the time that his wife died, but he obviously did not shut himself away in consequence. He had known Helga quite well at the time of her widowing. (Widowing? Was that the appropriate word? He could not say for certain.) Helga had behaved nothing like this. Helga had done her mourning without making a scene. She had cared for her children. Really, she had cared for everyone that had come across her path.
That was Helga. Given that as a provision for comparison then, should not Rowena have locked herself in her study or the library as opposed to her bedchamber? It may be that she would need the news he was bearing as much as he needed her assistance in order to make it a reality. Helga, he had perhaps unwisely, counted on for support - she had oft enough expressed that such a thing was desperately needed. Rowena he had hoped to entice with the promise of the dissemination of knowledge, but there was no hope of enticing someone who refused to hear you speak.
It was all quite frustrating.
This was an idea that would require collaboration to make a reality, and he was starting to be concerned that it would be scuttled before it even got a proper beginning by his inability to figure out how to deal with his recalcitrant sister-in-law. That would be deeply disappointing, and he resolved that Rowena was going to hear him out whether she liked or no. It was not only about the possibility of a school. Something was needed to snap her out of her melancholia, and it needed to happen soon.