Ouroboros

by Novus Ars

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

23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

oooP1ooo

(Harry)

The emerald and silver brocade curtains hung heavy about his bed. A thin strip of very faint light filtered in from the dorm window. Blankets and sheets rested heavily across him.

His eyelids hung heavy too.

But he could not sleep.

He felt like he was hearing something, feeling something. Whatever it was, it was coming from his scar.—He had to be imagining it. There was no way he was feeling anything from the parasitical sludge stuck in his runic scar beyond the occasional headache. Just…Nope. Not possible. (It should have been obvious before the whole horrifying realization if it was really happening and he hadn't noticed anything before. So he wasn't denying facts. It just wasn't possible.)

A throb of pain across his brow seemed to answer his thoughts. Salazar sat up with a scowl and flung the blankets to the end of the bed as he rolled to a crouch. The boy reached through curtains for his glasses and wand.

He needed to do something productive instead of letting his exhaustion fuel unneeded fears.

The parselmouth turned to his headboard where he had recently had Mipsy hang a large mirror and reached into the silvery, reflective glass. An enchantment weaved with a few stabilizing runes fluttered barely visible around his arms where they stuck out of the mirror. He grabbed the back of the mirror's frame to steady himself as he stood upon his bed and stepped up and through the mirror. He stepped out of the mirror's twin and into the still empty bedroom of his hidden suite.

Precarious situations brought innovation—Finding himself in the owlery with an unconscious Godric when he had needed to move him somewhere more private without anyone noticing had led to the creation of many of these twinned mirror doorways. He sort of wished they had used such magic instead of the dimensional pathways Rowena had set up but mirrors had not been in abundant supply in his last life.(1)

Salazar stumbled slightly before he lit his wand with a Lumos. Then he crossed through his newly restructured suite, through the various empty rooms until he reached another floor-to-ceiling mirror. Without pause, Salazar stepped through.

This twinned mirror brought him to the first floor of the library. Eventually, the empty room on the other side would be his study room for everyone in his year. (He should probably build ones for the other years also but there were perks to being his direct peer and to the fact that he was entirely done with all the reserving of study spaces that weren't large enough for everyone.)

The warm wooden shelves stuffed with so much magical knowledge gleamed under the light of his Lumos and the softer beams of moonlight shining through the windows. A stillness of silence hung in the area alongside the weight of all the magic Hogwarts had gained over the years. It would be hours before Madam Pince or any of her student assistants entered, let alone any regular students.

He walked quietly through the shelves to the front where the reception desk stood before the restricted section. There were many things he should deal with but the only one that mattered now was learning what his scar held. Soul magic was the likely answer. The only easily assessable answers were within the restricted section if there were any at all.

Salazar stopped before the "door" of the fence separating the dangerous books from the rest of the library. It was little more than a velvet rope strung from wooden beam to wooden beam to cordon off the area. The area considered the "door" was the same rope but had a clip on one end. A brush of a hand over a beam and rope door brought a spark against his fingers and a feel of being looked at before the magic faded from his senses. It wasn't there long enough for him to tell if he had triggered any alerts to an adult or not but it left a sense of acceptance behind.

After a second hesitation, the sleep-deprived Slytherin clicked free one end of the rope and stepped through. Clicking the door closed, he stared across the room, over the reception desk, to the double doors. No one rushed through them and there were no sounds of anyone running toward the library, so Salazar turned to the restricted books.

An immediate issue became clear as he looked through the first bookcase. Most of the books lacked titles. The ones that had titles weren't often in a language Salazar knew, though many he could guess approximate translations. Those he couldn't translate the title of were also written in the unknown language. The ones he could read the titles of weren't easy reads—Salazar had only learned to read English. While the knowledge of how to read and general runic-related knowledge helped him figure out how to read the other languages he knew, for the most part, that didn't mean it was particularly easy to do without practice. (That some like Arabic were written right to left had been an added brain-twister he hadn't needed in the middle of the night.)

Salazar slumped onto the ground and leaned back against a bookshelf. He pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. He was getting nowhere. Sliding his glasses back on with a huff, he jerked back and bumped hise head. A glowing figure sat across from him.

Hogwarts beamed at him from her seat on the floor. "Are you playing hide and seek too, papa?" she whispered.

"What?" he said before he fully processed her question. "Oh. No. I'm looking for books on soul magic."

She tilted her head thoughtfully before she rose and pulled him up by an arm. Salazar didn't fight her as she pulled him past multiple rows of bookcases to one further back. The little girl stopped before a bookcase with multiple empty shelves and many books toppling over. He had not seen such a sparsely filled bookcase before. Most bookcases were overstuffed with books instead.

Hogwarts pointed up at a shelf almost too high for either of them to reach. "Soul, Papa."

Salazar rose on tiptoes to reach the specific book she was pointing at. The title From Ātman to ψυχή: the Global Phenomena of No-Maj understanding of Soul glinted in a worn gold metallic(2). A flip through the book showed it primarily a philosophical discussion in slightly odd formatted English. He pulled down the books around it also.

The first of the books was a 随神の道 (3), which Salazar didn't understand at all but found some very intriguing diagrams and images of creatures within. Then there was Finding your Animal Guide, which looked to be very interesting and even appeared to try to explain House animals but, at a glance, did not talk about parasitical things helping anchor a soul without a body. (Not that he was expecting a book specifically covering the topic but magic surrounding animal guides didn't sound at all related.)

Salazar look back up at that shelf but there wasn't anything more helpful. The shelf just below was basically empty of books. There wasn't anything else.

oooP2ooo

(Neville)

It was hard to get out of bed. Godric was more sore and achy than he recalled ever being. The magic he had released when losing control had been more than he had ever wielded in this life. His young form wasn't used to it and hadn't built up to large acts of magic. Yesterday hadn't been as bad but he had gotten moving with a bout of adrenaline. Now that he had nothing but recovery to focus on, he'd sleep the bleeding week away if he could get away with it.

He couldn't though. He had to go to class and continue to play the near-squib for the teachers.

Godric forced himself up when he heard his roommates moving. Neither Seamus nor Dean got up early. That meant he was too late to catch Sally in the Great Hall before class.

"First years!"

The Gryffindor founder paused at the last steps leading into the common room. Percy and Miranda, the fifth-year prefects, waved him over to the small group of first-years before them. He joined them, noting the noticeboard they stood beside had been updated. A partly unrolled scroll rested against it, its unrolled parchment was split in two. One column was marked 'Staying' and the other 'Leaving'.

"Right," said Percy with a clap of his hands, looking for all the world like he had repeated this multiple times throughout the morning as different groups of first years came to the common room. "The holidays are almost here, which means Professor McGonagall requires a list of whose staying here for it and whose headed back to London on the train."

Miranda continued the explanation as Percy glanced at her, "Anyone underaged needs to have a letter from a guardian saying they'd be picking you up from the train station. If you're staying with friends for the hols, you'll need a letter from your guardian explaining that and clearly stating who is allowed to take you from the station."

"Once you have the letter, you can find any prefect to help make a copy of it for the Professor's records. You need that letter before signing up on the 'Leaving' list. Place it in the basket over here. You can't remove it once you place it in so make sure you make a copy.–" Percy waved first at a wicker basket set on a low table by the bulletin board and then at the specified column on the parchment as he spoke. "–If you place your name in the 'Leaving' list without leaving a letter or being able to present a letter for copying, we'll have to move your name to the other column. Then your guardian will have to contact Professor McGonagall personally."

"You've three weeks to determine your holiday plans and receive the needed letter," Miranda finished, "Any questions?"

Hermione snapped her hand up into the air but the rest shook their heads and were dismissed. Godric followed from the rear after Dean. As they reached the great staircase an itch at the back of his head had him pause and glance behind. Hermione appeared as he looked back, stomping after them, her expression twisted up with more emotions than Godric wanted to pick through.

He didn't want to deal with the girl but he wasn't entirely oblivious either. He had had a daughter and lived long enough to see her nearly grown. Hermione needed to learn how to be herself without bossing everyone around but also didn't deserve to be left behind and alone. She was slowly figuring it out. The quidditch game had been a good first step but there was a way to go before she had figured it out entirely.

The bushy-haired girl slowed to stop before him. The conflict of emotions had softened to relief when she realized he had waited. She tucked the books clasped in her arms against her chest and offered a quiet, "Good morning, Neville."

"Morning Hermione," Godric greeted back before he shifted about to guide her to the stairs just returning from its travels down the stairwell. None of the other first-years had waited for them.

Various portraits waved out at them, calling out their own good mornings. A couple of ghosts floated by and offered deep head bobs to Godric, almost bows but not quite, and soft good mornings to the general group of students as more joined them on the steps.

He continued to speak as they each claimed a step to the right before the stairs moved down to the fifth floor. "Did you have all your questions answered?"

She blushed in what appeared to be embarrassment and didn't look back up at him but out over the rail to look over the huge stairwell, "Umm, well yes. They kept using the word guardian and I wanted that clarified...I had heard that muggleborn's parents weren't considered real guardians but that must be Slytherin nonsense–"

"Did you hear it from a Slytherin?" Godric interrupted, brow furrowing at the thought. He hadn't heard about this but he could at least let Sally know.

Hermione startled and looked back up at him properly, brown eyes wide. "I...No, I didn't. That was wrong of me to say, wasn't it? I suppose it's more pureblood…" She fell silent, clearly recalling that Godric was a pureblood.

"It is certainly nonsense," Godric answered slowly as he stared back at her. "I don't think you could claim it from any particular group though. Sounds like something anyone could have made an assumption over. Your parents aren't exactly part of the magical world, they cannot help you as well as a magical guardian could under certain circumstances but, as far as I am aware, no law exists that demands muggleborns be taken under the protection of an adult witch or wizard. And I've been taught about most of the laws...if not all of them, over the years."

The stairs stilled as it reached the fifth-floor landing. It was just in time for the next set of stairs to appear. Godric nudged the girl to claim a stair on the next staircase before it moved on.

A pensive frown stretched across her lips as she stared unseeingly out over the great stairwell, not reacting to the many calls of good morning directed at her from paintings and tapestries. Godric left her to her thoughts, simply making sure she reached the ground floor.

Owls swooped and dived across the illusioned clouds and morning light of the Great Hall's ceiling. Daily Prophets dropped onto the long tables of each school house, making splashes in pumpkin juice and porridges. Family owls took more care with their many letters. Only a few carried boxes with the holidays nearing. The Malfoy boy had gotten another package if the proud eagle owl that swooped down to the Slytherin table was any indication. The Weasley's elderly barn owl took a nosedive into the beans bowl at the Gryffindor table as Godric and Hermione reached it, a thick letter dangling from its twitching claw.

Before Godric could claim a seat, an owl landed on the table before him and held up its leg. His shoulders drooped at the sight of the wax seal. Gran had finally sent him another letter. He stuffed it into his robe pocket and turned away from the table, no longer hungry.

He found Salazar in the middle of a very differently arranged suite. Where there should have been a foyer open to Sal's old study and his once-and-future-(very non-existent)-wife's sitting room, was now a spacious sitting room not dissimilar to the Gryffindor common room. The colors of greens and deep browns suited Salazar, though the pop of red was tossed around by someone that knew and cared about color combos more than his brother. (A House elf or Hogwarts must have decorated the place recently.) A worn couch and mismatched wingback chairs and a long table with a pile of books already stacked up to pursue framed the fireplace he recalled being in Salazar's study. Firelight danced across his brother's face as he stared down at the first of a stack of letters in his hand.

"Rearranged things?" Godric stated more than asked.

Emerald eyes snapped up and stared across the room at him as if Salazar hadn't noticed him enter, hadn't noticed the constant sense of Godric's position coming closer through their bonds. There were heavy bags under his eyes.

"Uh...yes. There's," Slytherin said slowly, distractedly as he waved backward where a hallway faded into shadows behind him, "space for you also. A meditation room too."

Godric frowned, ignoring the details of the remodel—though, a meditation room less dangerous to melt would be useful.—"What's happened?"

Salazar huffed and looked back down at the letter. "Nothing important...just...odd."

"How?"

His brother waved the stack of letters up and down slightly. "Snape set my detentions. They're not with him."

Godric's eyebrows rose as he considered the surprising decision. "He does seem to hate your guts...so..."

"Why not use this to torment me?" Salazar drawled out, finishing Godric's sentence. Lips twisted down into an annoyed frown as he groused, "It makes no sense. Why give me detentions for something he knows I didn't do if he's not going to take advantage of them!?"

"Well, Alfred did say Dumbledore has been having Snape separate you from your Slytherins–"

Salazar snapped his gaze back to Godric with pure annoyance gleaming in his gaze. "He did that when he inssissted I wass the perpetrator! All my work gaining my peerss' trusst gone in a moment. ss:_Damn the man. Damn Dumbledore. I'm never going to get anywhere substantial with them getting in the way!_:ss"

Godric dropped back into one of the wingbacks as he countered the hissing fit from his brother, "This isn't going to ruin it all. Just point out who actually did whatever." He pulled the letter from Gran out and scratched at the wax seal before sighing and adding, "Not that I also wouldn't be cussing the two out in your position."

"You'd have removed them by now if I hadn't been demanding ssubterfuge."

He sighed but didn't deny it, if he had been brought back as just Godric Gryffindor they would have been gone that very night. Of course, if Salazar had come back just Salazar Slytherin there would have been no bodies to find long before Godric came into the picture. Instead, they were eleven-year-olds with a mountain of issues to deal with before attempting anything like this. Subterfuge was the better route.

"You know why this is the right decision right now," Godric countered softly.

Salazar pressed his lips together in annoyance before he grumbled, "They aren't talking to me again." He sank into the other wingback and groaned, rubbing his hands across his face as he continued to complain, "I cannot deal with children while having to be one."

Silence met that statement. Godric couldn't say anything counter to the grumbles. He had been thinking the same thing when with Hermione.

"So," Godric finally spoke up instead, gaze staring down at the still unopened letter in his hands, "Who do you have detention with?"

"McGonagall, thankfully," Salazar said before he glanced back at the top letter and frowned slightly, "And Filch…the supposed squib caretaker." He looked up at Godric. "His core is worse than yours before the ridiculous fire purification you somehow survived."

He leaned back in his chair and offered a shrug. Godric didn't really have anything to say to that. The whole squib issue was a headache on its own. His whole burning residue out of his core with magical fire he had not been in control of was a whole other issue. Salazar taking a personal offense toward it was entertaining at least.

Salazar scoffed at him and turned to the next letter in his pile. After a quick read over, green eyes shifted back toward him and found Godric watching. His brother's gaze flicked down to the letter Godric was fiddling with before Sally raised an eyebrow and asked, "Are you going to open that letter?"

Godric looked down at the letter once more. After a long moment of hesitation, he admitted, "It's from Gran."

The letter was pulled from his hands and replaced with another. "Open that one for me then," Salazar said as he broke Gran's seal without bothering to return to his seat. Slytherin flicked the short letter open without pause and glanced over it.

He watched his brother's expression for a moment but it stayed firmly neutral. Godric dragged attention from the letter and Sally, and looked down at the new letter.

It had a deep blue wax sealing it. A shield with a dog's head was pressed into the wax. Tiny stars floated around the dog's head, almost like a crown.

"Black," Godric breathed out as the facts jumped forward from what training he had received before his condition grew too supposedly dire for his Pater to continue. "This is from the Ancient House of Black." He looked over at his brother with a slight frown. "It was founded by one of the Norman invaders. Janus, you remember the man?"

Sally's brows shot up as he looked away from Gran's letter. "Him? Interesting...I hadn't thought he'd gain the privilege of a House."

"He greased the right hands in the end." Godric shrugged. "And he married Pater Edmund's youngest...err…"

"Ainslie." Salazar supplied as he turned Gran's letter over in his hands with a curious frown. "She would have been half his age."

"Yes, but it made his House one of us, compared to the others." Godric shook his head. As he looked over to the fireplace, he couldn't help but considered his own wife. "Acadia had been the niece of the Montgomery Mater."

"Who?"

Godric blinked a few times as he remembered Sally wouldn't know anyone by the House names. They all had been created during that meeting, in some form or other. He turned to regard his brother, looking up at the burnet. "Err...Matilda? She married some Count but a daughter carried on the House."

"So you married a Norman and Janus married a Briton?" Salazar said as he regard Godric expectantly. "That was planned out as part of the truce?"

"It was," Godric quietly confirmed as he recalled the large meeting of the council, "The Oaks Council, that's what they called it after the fact."

"The Oaks Council, " repeated Sally, "is where you agreed to marry the witch that poisoned you to death, the Blacks–"

"Blœc(4)," Godric interrupted with a faint smirk, "It was originally Blœc. Say what you want of the old farts of the Seven, they knew how to offer a permanent insult."

Sally snorted in amusement. "Indeed."

The blond grinned up at his brother as he added, "The meeting was where the Council went from seven to twenty-one and all the various marriage agreements to tie our Houses together in a lasting peace were agreed and sealed...Why do you have a letter from a Black?"

"My godfather is a Black."

"Ah...So you requested something from the extremely reclusive, elderly Pater Black?"

Sally raised a brow as he answered in a flat tone, "Yes."

"And he answered?" Godric demanded incredulously.

"So it seems," Sally said before tilting his chin forward at the letter. "Open it."

Godric glanced at his Gran's letter before obeying, more than a little curious.

ooo

Arcturus Marcel Black

The House of Black

Pater & Seated member of Council

23rd November 1991

Harry James Potter

The Familia of Potter

First-year Hogwarts Slytherin

ooo

Mr. Potter,

I will hear your request at the Drunken Unicorn on 21st December. Be prompt at 2 pm.

Sincerely,

Arcturus Black, P.

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Toujours Pur

ooo

"Huh."

Sally leaned forward. "What?"

Godric rolled his eyes and held the letter to Slytherin. "He's agreed to a meeting over the holiday. You get to see the Drunken Unicorn."

Sally glanced over it. "Do you know anything about the Drunken Unicorn?"

"It's a pub," Godric answered without difficulty. He knew all about the place as part of his House history lessons. Lips quirked up in vague amusement as he recalled how he had thought it fairly useless knowledge at the time. "The Pub back a few hundred years ago. Used to be used exclusively by the Houses. Never been myself but they have private rooms for each of the twenty-one Ancient Houses. It's a bit of a gimmick now. One of those tourist spots everyone has to go to. All the rooms are decorated for each Ancient House they represent, with our mottos and seals and colors and all that." Godric ruffled his hair and shrugged after a second to consider what else to say. "The Ancient Houses still use the rooms since it's ancient neutral ground but not often. The rooms are free for House members to use and they are extremely well bespelled. It's just, we have to send reservations ahead to use them or wait with everyone else if we just appear and our House room is in use by others."

"Where is the pub located?" Sally asked.

"Diagon," Godric answered, "It's on an offshoot of the main road.–" He looked up with a sheepish grin. "–I've never been, right? So, you'll have to ask for directions once you're there."

Salazar hummed with a frown, Gran's letter tapped against his palm as he considered all the information. "Very well." His emerald eyes narrowed down at the letter he had been tapping before he held it out and said, "This is your letter for going home. It's not too terrible, all considered...You celebrate Christmas? You plan to go to them?"

Godric traded letters as he considered the question. "Yes," he finally answered. There were definitely Christmas-themed parties and decorations but no proper yule logs at the House manor each Christmas he had been allowed to attend, "I don't recall ever celebrating Yule this time around. And of course, I'll go to the Longbottoms if they are asking it." he sent a sharp look at Salazar. "I'll handle them."

Sally frowned back. "Perhaps you could visit me instead…or one day at the very least."

"Would be nice; I doubt I'll get away with it though. We're underage remember? Unless we throw all caution to the wind, I can't just ignore a summons back to the Longbottoms." Godric shrugged before he looked over the folded letter in some trepidation.

Salazar huffed something under his breath as he reclaimed his seat.

Godric flicked the letter open and read.

ooo

Neville,

The Holiday is upon us once more. You will return home for it. I will pick you up from the station on the 19th and we will promptly turn in at our home for the evening. The next day we are expected to join Pater at Longwood Manor where you will complete preparation for the various functions you are expected to attend now.

There will be a family dinner on the 21st. The majority of the extended family are expected to stay through Christmas Day. I will give you a list of the functions once you've returned. It will be a busy season.

Sincerely,

Augusta Longbottom

ooo

Godric shook his head at the letter's contents. The holiday had suddenly taken an unpleasant detour. He didn't know what he had expected, he hadn't placed much thought on the two-week break but this wasn't it.—He had been the heir hidden away from sight for most of his life. He had definitely expected to be passed over with how poorly he had been doing at Hogwarts. Now though…

He frowned at the idea of being the heir of Longbottom. "Am I Heir Longbottom," Godric asked as he looked back at his brother who had opened another letter, "Or Pater Gryffindor?"

Sally's brows shot up his forehead in surprise before he also frowned. "I have no idea. There have been Paters of House Gryffindor since your first life...and you possess Longbottom House magicks. How does the House magick determine a Head of House over a regular member?"

"Right," Godric grumbled as he stood, "You've never been a House member or Pater. You've no clue."

"Doesn't sound like you've any idea either."

Godric grimaced and changed the subject, "Come on, or we're going to be late for Potions...What's in the other letters?"

Salazar followed even as he waved a much longer letter about, "History class. I've completed my midterm and the book for the semester. This is the response to all that. " Then he tugged out a highly decorative card before adding, "And this is an invite from Hannah for her family's Christmas Party. She had gotten permission to give it to me directly, apparently, it should have been sent to my guardian but they're using the whole 'we're family' bit to skip the formalities."

"That's actually extremely rude to your guardian." Godric offered, more amused than anything.

oooP3ooo

(Harry)

Salazar stalked through the common room, dropped a muggle lined paper into the basket of letters for going home, and signed his name across the parchment column for 'Leaving'. Magic didn't ring out in outrage or falsehood. He glanced down at the letter he had forged, his aunt's signature gleaming in the torchlight.

His gamble had worked. He had even taken the time to orchestrate the whole owl delivery of the ridiculous thing. It had taken a few days, which had been a nice distraction when he couldn't sleep.—And likely entirely unnecessary but he didn't know what Dumbledore paid attention to and didn't care about. He clearly wanted to control Salazar's life on some level, though going so far as to read Salazar's letters was probably paranoia speaking.

Still, it had been an interesting little project. He had checked the basket before going through all the hassle, of course. There was some type of magic to check against forgeries. The simplest detection against forgeries he knew of was magic that compared the person to the magical residue in the ink. People left imprints of their magic in anything they wrote because magic could be called on through words. Writing was a physical form of words.

It was the basis for runic magic.

Of course, one of the first things taught when learning runic magic was how to not infuse writing with magic until it was ready. Allowing one's magic to imprint across the ink when building runic spells led to many explosions and deaths.

The vast majority of magicals never needed to learn how to do such a thing. He also had a feeling it was another entirely forgotten practice since runic magic wasn't widespread. That other magical practices relied on the residue to work properly, like magically binding contracts, made it a skill someone likely wanted to be forgotten.

In any case, the basket hadn't triggered any alarm towards his forgery and he doubted Snape would notice anything either.

With one minor item taken care of, Salazar considered what to focus on next since he had detention soon. The Slytherin founder glanced over his common room and the many children busily studying for the midterms fast approaching. He knew enough about the various children now to recognize that there was a separation between many of them by blood status.

It was more complicated than necessary, and that had to be on purpose. (Not that he thought it necessary at all. Whoever created the concept had planned it all out carefully though.) Draco had covered the basics of who was more pureblooded or who was closer to being considered pureblooded instead of halfblooded within a number of the class years. The more pureblooded the child was considered, the more restricted they were on who they could interact with. Not all of the purebloods avoided the supposedly lesser members of the house. Many weren't forced to worry about the nonsense at all.

Draco and Theodore represented the pinnacle of this pureblood nonsense and so they were expected to avoid all the halfbloods, with him as an exception.—Salazar wasn't entirely clear if his exception was due to his potential clout as The-Boy-Who-Lived or something else. Not that it mattered at the moment. Draco was firmly ignoring him and the rest of the pureblood Slytherins in his year followed the blond's lead.

His gaze slowly settled on the pair of halfbloods in his year. The Slytherin halfbloods sometimes claimed a corner of the commons to study together. He could see Millicent Bulstrode, the girl he had removed the curse from her forehead, sitting with Tracey Davis and an older boy. Similar small groups sat together, heads bent over textbooks and scrolls as they worked together. All of them were some degree of halfblood.

As far as he had been able to tell, there were no muggleborns in the house. Historically, that wasn't always the case. Muggleborns used to be more common, which made sense as they'd be one of the most driven of the children joining Hogwarts. They would have an idea that they would need to work hard to achieve a stable place in the world they had been dumped into. Some might even recognize the difficulties ahead with being part of two worlds. Those qualities either made excellent Hufflepuffs or very hard-working and ambitious Slytherins.

Just looking at the trophy room showcased the efforts of muggleborn Slytherins, not that many seem to look up the names of past prefects and head boys. He wondered what Draco would say about Tom Riddle: prefect, head boy, awarded for special services to Hogwarts, and muggleborn. The antithetical of the pureblood movement. (And the only muggleborn in the list of Slytherin prefects for the past century, but that was beside the point. The multitude of half-blood Slytherin prefects made up for it.)

It was probably the curses on Alfred that had decreased the number of muggleborns in Slytherin to non-existence. Which meant, if they removed those curses before the new year, there would likely be one or more muggleborns in his house next year.

He didn't like how he suspected the house would react to such children.—Having better connections with the halfbloods in the house would help make sure any possible muggleborns sorted into Slytherin were supported.

Salazar wandered slowly over to the corner of halfbloods. He stopped before Bulstrode's study group. (Maybe he'll get a hint about the bullying issue while at it.)

The larger girl glanced up twice, the first spotting him and the second in a double-take at his presence. Her concentration broke and she scowled up at him. "Go away."

"I'd like to study potions with you all, if possible." Salazar offered as he glanced over the potion texts. Only one of the books was the required class book but the others laid out looked infinitely more useful.

"No."

Tracey glanced from Millicent back to Salazar, looking vaguely amused.

The older boy frowned at Millicent and said, "Potter could help. He's taking the same test you two are."

"What good is your Spellmanship membership if you're not more helpful than Potter?" scowled the large first year.

"More the merrier, Bulstrode." countered the boy before he met Salazar's gaze and tilted his head at an empty seat. "Sit Potter. Name's Titus."

Salazar saw Millicent's mulish expression before he could claim the offered seat and added, "Only for an hour, then I've detention."

Her dark gaze narrowed but she gave a curt nod. "Fine."

Titus and Tracey shared faint smirks before they turned predatory gazes onto Salazar, the potions books, and the effort to study the last thing on their mind now.

"Sooo, Potter," the older boy said slowly.

Salazar raised a brow. "Yes?"

The boy leaned forward and stage-whispered, "What does the Gryffindor dorm look like?"

Tracey leaned forward in eager anticipation. Millicent tilted her head while she continued to stare blankly at a potions book, clearly listening in instead of studying. He should have expected this. The only one that had talked to him about his stint in the Gryffindor dorms was Draco and the blond had focused on perceived insults over gossip. Someone should have asked him ages ago (it had only been a month but it felt like ages ago), but he was almost always with Draco when amongst Slytherins and these halfblood-marked children would have avoided the wrong type of attention.

He considered the children for a long moment, considering the disservice he had done by not coming to them since they couldn't come to him when surrounded by their supposed betters, before offering, "It's very bright."

Millicent snorted and looked a little startled right after. Grins split the other children's faces and the societal wall between them seemed to crumble, at least a little, as the three scooted closer—their studying entirely forgotten.

oooP4ooo

Filch led Salazar up to the sixth floor, rambling away about the detentions he had been allowed to handle back when he had been younger and under the charge of a different Headmaster. (Salazar would have had words with Headmaster Dippet(5) if he had still been alive.) The supposed squib wanted to chain Salazar up to the ceiling by his thumbs. It would supposedly convince him to stop going down the route his father had gone.

Salazar disagreed, and not just because he hadn't actually caused the "prank". He didn't voice his disagreement. That would have been a waste of breath. He pressed his lips together and glared down at Mrs. Norris instead. The cat was blatantly ignoring him.

"Well, you're to clean the halls and rooms. If the doors are locked don't bother with that room. You've plenty of others to deal with…The amount of rubbish these clubs leave about is insulting," Filch announced with a wicked little grin as they reached the sixth floor. The caretaker propped open the closest door, revealing a small closet filled with cleaning material not dissimilar to Aunt Petunia's things.

Filch rolled out a dustbin with an attached broom. "Rubbish in here. If you find any further messes, you'll find a bucket and sponge. Set the furniture to right, and clean any messes. I'll review the rooms in an hour. If you failed to clean anything, you'll fix it."

"Curfew's in an hour." Salazar couldn't help but point out to his elder.

The hunchbacked man grinned down at him. "Best not miss anything then. I'm not walking you back to your bleeding dorm. And the dungeons are Professor Snape's to patrol first thing tonight."

Salazar pressed his lips together to keep from responding. It was clear as day that Snape would be waiting for him.—Not that he'd return to the dorms the normal way.—He took the dustbin and stomped over to the first room.

The caretaker called out after him. "No wand waving!"

He couldn't stop the scowl he directed over his shoulder as he answered, "Yes, sir."

Filch's laughter followed him into the room.

It looked like a tornado had gone off inside. The founder grumbled under his breath but swept through and fixed it up. When he stepped back out some minutes later, he found Filch relaxing in a chair by the closet with a Daily Prophet flipped open. That lightened his mood a little. The cantankerous man wasn't going to watch over his shoulder.

A meow drew his gaze down to find Mrs. Norris glaring up at him. She would probably snitch on him if he did any wand-waving, though.

Salazar rolled his eyes and ignored his little guard as he continued through the sixth floor. Some of the rooms had been cleaned up by children, with rubbish in the room's bin as it should be. Other rooms had the rubbish neatly stacked in the middle of the table and the room almost sparkling it was so clean—a House elf or three had decided to take some of his work for him. A couple of the doors, including the one to the Spellmanship's club room, were locked. (Not that the doors didn't unlock for him but now that he knew that was a thing, Salazar noticed the lock giving way as he turned the handle and stopped himself.)

Three-fourths of the way through this useless detention, Salazar came to one of the larger study rooms. It was an absolute mess. Parchment was everywhere. It was even under the table and chairs. A few were somehow stuck to the windows.

Mrs. Norris hopped onto the table and purred at him, seemingly thrilled over the workload present. Salazar made a face at the cat, imagining Omorose taking the stupid thing's high opinion of itself down a few notches, and got to his knees to crawl under the table.

"Ugh," he grumbled. There was something sticky on the floor.

Utterly done with menial muggle cleaning he had escaped from when leaving the Dursleys, Salazar slapped his hand down and pulsed magic out into a form of a very small runic array. The stickiness vanished. Mrs. Norris didn't notice.

The founder groaned and rubbed at his forehead at the realization that the cat had no clue about non-wand-waving magics. He twitched fingers, his hand out as if waiting to accept something, and all the rubbish under the table floated up into one neat pile for him to grasp.

Magic sparked across his fingers as he grabbed the table to pull himself back upright, nudging him to look. It felt like a thicket of thorny bushes was grasping at his clothing, trying to pull him in or keep him in its grasp. The Slytherin should have fought the urge, recognizing it for the compulsion spell it was, but he was tired, already getting up from the ground and facing toward the source of the compulsion. So he obeyed before he processed what he had felt. Salazar stared down at the tabletop.

Under his hand was a newspaper clipping from the Daily Prophet about a break-in at Gringotts back in the summer. (The parchment hadn't been there when he had crawled under the table. He was certain of that.) Salazar vaguely recalled reading about the issue but hadn't thought much about it. It wasn't like anything had actually been stolen. (Or that he planned to leave all his valuables under goblin care in the long run.)

He frowned. Why would someone set a compulsion on the article?

The door banged open. Filch scowled down at him and snapped, "No lollygagging!" Squinty pale eyes dropped to the Daily Prophet article and Salazar felt a snap of magic reach out from the parchment and toward the old man. Taste of lemons and grasping tangle of underbrush tugged at him as it passed. "What's this?" Filch snatched the parchment up and glanced over it.

Salazar stared down at the parchment himself, brow furrowed. That had been another compulsion charm, this time targeted at Filch.

Filch scoffed over the article and grumbled out to himself, a little too loudly, "The great big oaf did one thing right for the Headmaster. Or Flamel, I suppose." He snapped his gaze back to Salazar as if remembering he was there and tossed the article back onto the table. "Just more rubbish, boy. You'll be here all night if you read all the tosh left for the bin." Filch's lips curled up into a mockery of a smile. "Then you'll be caught after curfew and we'll be at this another night too! Best hurry up if you want to avoid that."

"Yes sir," Salazar stated blandly, mind focused more on the name Flamel. He knew that name from somewhere.

oooP5ooo

(Neville)

"Pssh."

Godric looked up from his transfiguration study guide Hermione had forced under his nose after class. She had also gotten him to agree to meet her in the library to study together, even though he had started the conversation about joining the other houses' study groups. Godric was still uncertain how Hermione twisted his offer up into meeting her separately from the study groups but she had.

Megan, one of the little Hufflepuff's that dragged Sally off for studying stood before him wringing her hands together.

"Yes?" he offered after a moment of staring.

"Is…umm…Harry doing ok?"

He blinked. "What?"

She shifted her feet about in embarrassment but explained, "He was supposed to join us for our study group. We haven't seen him. His cousins decided we needed to hunt him down but he isn't at his usual study area or the Great Hall…I thought…well, do you know?"

Godric mentally reached out to his bond with his brother and considered what it sent back. Nothing was wrong per se. There was just an overwhelming sense of exhaustion.

"Well," he finally spoke up, "I haven't seen him since herbology. Uhm, he looked tired?"

Megan frowned back at him as she said slowly, clearly considering things, "Maybe he's stressing over midterms? He's in so many study groups, it's sort of bonkers. I hope he realizes he's one of the top students of our year! There is no reason for him to be stressing out."

Her expression twisted up at a sudden thought and Godric just knew she was suddenly worried about the midterms herself. "You're right," Godric jumped in, "Sal-Harry shouldn't worry so much about it. Everyone should be fine…I mean, I'm going to be the worse off, and it's not going to be that bad. Don't worry about it!"

She didn't look convinced but nodded. "Yeah…" Her dark gaze brightened and she refocused on him as she said, "Hey if you see him, can you let him know that he doesn't have to worry about joining our study groups? I'll let everyone else know to leave off him. He's just real helpful during them, you know? The others will understand."

"Sure," Godric offered, "He'll be fine, though."

Once the first-year left, the Gryffindor founder packed up and headed to the mirror Sal had told him about. It was in a dusty little corner of the library's first floor. Godric stopped before the mirror, made certain no one was around, took a moment to collect his thoughts, and focused on the mirror being an archway to another room instead of a solid object. Then he stepped through it. —Apparently, the mirror over his bed was keyed to him and Sally specifically but otherwise worked in the same fashion. This one was left open because it was going to become a common area for all their peers.

He had expected an empty room but worn tables and chairs lined up to create two large u-shapes on either side of the door. A short shelving unit filled with quills and parchment was set against a wall. There were even a couple of large chalkboards set up for use and a few decorative floor-to-ceiling artworks.

Godric couldn't think of when Salazar could have had time to do this. Even if he had only offered directions to House elves, he had to of had time to plan the layout out. They've been in classes and study groups all week. Salazar even had detention to deal with.

He scowled.—The idiot wasn't sleeping.

They were supposed to be taking it easy.

Gryffindor stomped across the room to one of the large paintings and glared up at the figure sitting in it. Salazar had found another ridiculous portrait of Godric. The inaccurate painting didn't demand a password at the sight of his glare, it just silently opened to reveal the rest of Salazar's suite.

There was another large painting covering the hallway to the kitchen but the staircases were left visible. An unrealistically large window now sat on the wall directly across from the fireplace of the sitting room. It showed views of one of the groves. Unicorns were grazing in it, digging through the snow for plant roots. The view added a tranquil feel to the room. Godric would have enjoyed it normally. Now, it just annoyed him more.

When had Salazar done this? House elves couldn't do this, Godric knew. Hogwarts wasn't connected to the groves, either. Only Salazar could have set this up.

Godric scowled over to the sitting area, his bond telling him exactly which direction to glare. He found Salazar on the floor, leaning back against the couch with the fireplace roaring. Books were scattered around his brother and parchment was stacked up in multiple piles. Sharper shadows hung under Sally's eyes than he had seen this morning, meaning Sally had used an illusion to hide the worst of it.

One stack of books was about soul magics and philosophy about souls. Another was about accomplished wizards and witches. First-year school books were in a final stack with a few odd additions.

Sally was ignoring the books, though. His brother was glaring at a cutout piece of parchment. Godric stomped over and pulled the parchment from his brother's hands and looked down at what appeared to be a Daily Prophet article.

He looked back at Sally, exasperated.

Salazar spoke up before he could formulate a nice way to tell Sal off. "Do you know who Flamel is?"

Godric stared for a long moment before finally saying in a flat tone. "No. No, I don't and I don't care. You shouldn't care."

"But–"

"You know what you should care about? Sleep. It's a thing we both agreed to do this week."

Salazar grimaced. "But–"

"We agreed to take a week to recover from all the ridiculous crap that keeps happening to us. It's almost December, Sally. We're supposed to just be regular students for one week. The only odd bit we're supposed to do before the Holidays is buy me a wand. We've midterms. You've worried cousins and little Slytherins to talk to. I have a socially inept gifted child that should be Rowena's problem but somehow ended up in my house I need to try to help." Godric huffed and folded his arms across his chest as he finished by saying, "We've plenty of normalish things to deal with. Let's not add to it just yet, yeah?"

Salazar scrunched his nose up and frowned as he spoke up once more, "There was a compulsion on that article to make sure I saw it and make sure Filch told me the name Flamel."

Godric looked from Sally to the article and then pivoted about and tossed it into the fireplace. "Fuck that." (Hear that Gran?! Yes, he can absolutely curse. So there.)

He could hear Salazar make a strangled noise but he didn't care. They already had enough bloody shit to deal with. Whatever mystery crap this was could go to hell.

The dirty blond pivoted back towards Salazar and scowled down at him. "What is going on besides that? You had detention yesterday, one bad night doesn't make you this tired."

His brother's shoulders slumped. He waved his hand up at his runic scar, gaze jumping to the books on soul magic as he muttered, "...can't sleep."

"Is it acting up? Nothing else has interacted with it, right?" At Salazar's negative headshakes, Godric huffed out in annoyance once more. Of course, nothing was simple when it came to Sally in this life. He asked, fighting to keep his tone a little neutral, "You aren't poking at it, are you?"

"No!" snapped Salazar, green eyes snapping to glare up at Godric before he groaned and rubbed at his face. "I just–I keep imagining it…doing something."

Godric frowned. Sally wasn't prown to imagining things. "Any headaches?"

His brother shrugged but didn't look up at him as he muttered, "Don't know if I'm stressing myself out and causing them or if it's the scar. It's not like I can look at my back every time I imagine it doing something. I should feel something from ritual markings if they light up!" Salazar slapped his hand to the table before him, frustration flashing across his face. "I'm not feeling anything from it. I don't know if I'm not feeling anything becausse they aren't activating or if ssomething iss off with my ritual markss ssince they were ssuperimpossed onto our reborn bodiess that are sstill children."

He grimaced even as he decided not to voice his thoughts: The parasite had reacted each time it was nudged and Sally hadn't noticed anything from the ritual marks. Could an attempted possession by Voldemort cause a larger or longer-term reaction since the spirit and the scar parasite appeared connected? Could the reaction trigger the ritual marks without causing the marks to give a clearer signal than lighting up? He didn't have an answer—he didn't like what answers came to mind.

"Whatever happened to naps being important?" Godric asked instead.

Salazar laughed a little bitterly. "I'd love a nap but I've detention in a few…And it's snowing outside."

"Never seen snow stop you before," muttered Godric before he spoke louder, "Fine but let's meet here afterward and I'll help figure something out." Godric sighed as he recalled Megan and added, "You missed some Hufflepuff study group. If I see any of them again I'll tell them you're skipping the rest of this week's groups for sleep."

Sally frowned and tried to counter, "It's only two more days worth–"

"Exactly," Godric said sharply, "They can live without you guiding them through everything for a few days…I'm late to meet with Hermione."

The parselmouth huffed as he got up. "Fine." He glanced up at Godric before he looked away. He spoke softly, almost too quietly for Godric to catch. "Thanks, Rie."

oooP6ooo

It was pitch black outside the windows. Hermione had drilled wand movements and incantations through Godric's brain to the point that he felt a little like mush. Transfiguration, new and fascinating a discipline as it should be, was turning out to be his most hated. Even Hermione's claims that it was a marvelous form of dueling, popularized early this century by Dumbledore and his contemporaries, did not convince Godric otherwise.

He had no reason to ever use the techniques. Turning matches to needles when he could just snap a flame into existence or cast reparo meant he would never have any matches laying around nor any need for a bleeding needle.—If he could skip to animagus training, he might change his mind.

Godric liked charms better. He didn't need a new wand to know that. Helga may have been the charm expert of the group but he had helped with many of the more offensive leaning charms and enchantments.

The founder tugged fingers through his hair as he looked up from the study material and watched as Hermione furrowed her brow over some intense note-taking for potions. "I think we need to call it a night Hermione."

"Just a few more minutes," she muttered as she chewed on her bottom lip, "I've almost figured out what I did wrong with the boil cure."

"Right," Godric stood up and stretched, "I'm going to head out."

Her brown eyes snapped up from the potions book and a flicker of emotions flashed across her face—worry, disappointment, and more than a little annoyance.—Her mouth spewed out her annoyance before she could think it through, not that Godric expected the child to think anything she said through yet. "Well, I think you need all the time we've got to prepare, Neville! You haven't gotten any spells to work properly, still. You'll fail and be expelled if you cannot cast any magic! And there is only a week until midter–"

"I wouldn't bother with that squib."

Godric stifled a sigh and turned to the newcomers. A group of older Ravenclaw girls stood there, having been passing by to find a study corner for themselves. The one who had spoken wasn't familiar at all. Just behind her, looking uncomfortable and not looking at Godric at all, was one of his cousins. Godric hadn't realized she would be at Hogwarts. He couldn't recall if anyone had actually told him that she would be.

Cousin Odette had the uncomfortable pleasure of knowing she had been sired in hopes of being a boy and because Godric's parents had apparently focused on the war over having an heir. Great Uncle Algie seemed to care for his daughters the few times Godric had seen them together but he had never interacted with either. Now, looking back, it was pretty clear that Odette had avoided him. That one of her friends felt comfortable calling him a squib spoke volumes about what she thought, though.

It was probably for the best that she had been avoiding him. He didn't really want to talk to her either.

Hermione stepped between him and the older girls, face flushed with outrage for him. "Take that back," she hissed out, "He wouldn't be here if he was a squib. The sorting hat would have said he couldn't be sorte–"

"The caretaker's a squib," the older girl countered with a scoff, nose rising in the air even though she was already taller than either first-year, "The groundskeeper is probably a squib. Never seen him do any proper magic either. Squibs have no place in our society. Most are tossed out into the muggle side for a reason—They've useless vagabonds like the rest of those magical-less heathens."

"One must ask why a group of sixth years are harassing first years and insulting whole sweeps of people they know nothing about," drawled Salazar from the other side of the group. "I'd think the lot should lose ten points each from Ravenclaw, don't you Neville, Hermione?"

Hermione pursed her lips together clearly not thrilled about what she was thinking but snapped out a response a second later, "Definitely. I'm glad I didn't let the hat make me a Ravenclaw if this is how they treat others less skilled or fortunate than themselves."

Godric made a face behind her back at that but decided against saying anything counter to her statement. She had no idea how her defending him ended up insulting him half the time as is. Instead, he answered Sally, "Agreed. That's…50 points from Ravenclaw for harassing a fellow student. Yes?" Godric couldn't make himself care that only one of the girls had been harassing first years. The other girls should have stopped her instead of standing around like they silently agreed with it all.

His cousin shuffled back as if to flee while the spokesperson of the group scowled and stomped a foot down in emphasis as she stood her ground. "Please, you can't take any points from us and none of the professors would believe you anyway."

"Well, just means someone else messed up if you see you're 50 points down tomorrow," Godric said dryly because they had absolutely lost 50 points. Hogwarts would have made certain of that.—It was a bit much but he was done with the insults and couldn't make himself care at the moment.

The girl scoffed but a call from nearby drew her and her group's attention. She and a couple of the others tried to make intimidating faces at Hermione and him but stalked away. One looked like she tried to intimidate Sally also but Godric couldn't see her expression from his angle.

Hermione scowled after them before she stomped over to her things and started stuffing them into her bag. "Let's go."

"Uh…" Godric glanced between her and Salazar.

"I'll take your table if that's alright?" Sally said, "The place is packed."

The first-year glanced over at him and frowned. "You didn't need to get involved. Neville and I had it handled…but I guess you can have the table since you tried to help." Hermione's frown twisted into a faint smirk as she added, having taken in Sally's exhausted appearance, "You look like you could use some sleep, though. I understand how difficult it must be to prepare for the midterms. You have to spend all your time studying already to keep at the top of so many classes but your health is important also. Slipping from the top isn't the end of the world."

Salazar looked bewildered, gaze glancing in confusion toward Godric before he gave the girl his attention and said slowly, "I don't recall any lists of top students…and I cannot possibly be the top of many classes. Neville might be the top in Herbology. Draco is likely top in Potions. Who knows whose top in History. Transfiguration is probably a Ravencla–"

Her expression curdled. "Fine. Let's go, Neville."

Godric picked up his things and shared a final glance with Salazar. Salazar tilted his head to the side, pointing toward the direction of the mirror. He offered a slight nod back.

A few minutes into their hike up to the seventh floor, Hermione grumbled out, "The nerve of that boy!"

He stared at her as they stopped on a set of stairs to wait for it to travel up. Finally, he had to ask because he had no clue what Salazar had done this time. "What?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed an angry red. "A Ravenclaw for top in Transfiguration! Who knows who's top in History?! Malfoy top in potions!"

"I mean, he's probably right about Malfoy at least." Godric offered after a prolonged moment contemplating how to respond to this of all things. "Why the complaint? You did say being top isn't worth ill health."

The girl snapped back in pure outrage. "For him! I have been working so hard to get top marks. Can you imagine getting away with half the things he does? Sleeping over in the Gryffindor dorms should have suspended him at the very least!"

"What else has he done?" Godric asked in even more confusion. What type of priorities had her parents instilled in her?

"He cursed me silent!" she hissed out as the stairs reached their desired landing before she bolted away.

Godric grimaced. He had been there when Sally had done that, hadn't he? So maybe Hermione had a valid reason behind her general outrage toward his brother. It had started before that, though.

An odd thought crossed his mind but he shook it off. There was no way Hermione was one of those girls who reacted to crushes violently.

Instead of following Hermione, who he had no interest in annoying further, he headed towards a hidden passage and took the long way down to the ritual rooms and then up into Sally's suite. Salazar had vacated the library and sat surrounded by his stacks of books in the sitting room once more. It was almost like he had never left for detention.

"Anything outrageous happens at this detention?" Godric asked, ready to get rid of more mysterious paraphernalia.

Salazar blinked tiredly up at him, hummed for a moment as he slowly processed the question, and shook his head. "No, Professor McGonagall just had me write a short essay about why pranks aren't appropriate in most situations." He paused for a moment before adding, "She gave me hot chocolate."

Godric stared, waiting for his brother to note that the Head of Gryffindor seemed particularly nice towards him. Usually, Sally would be pacing and muttering, frighteningly accurate, guesses at manipulation. The stern McGonagall had a soft spot for Salazar. It was probably real. She didn't come across as someone prone to manipulations herself. But Dumbledore wanted Sal in Gryffindor so this stank of him nudging Sally towards that resorting. It would have worked on an isolated eleven-year-old.—Recently re-isolated by the water prank from the twins.

That Sally wasn't pacing about, considering the manipulative angle of this meant Salazar probably hadn't slept much all week. He sighed, there was no way they would get anything done now, and nudged Sally as he ordered, "Up, sit on the couch." He glanced around as the Slytherin obeyed with a grumpy frown. There were no blankets or throws in the room. "Mipsy."

The House elf pop-clicked into the room, "Master Rie called?"

"Could you bring us a pile of blankets and pillows? We're sleeping out here tonight."

She nodded and pop-clicked away.

Hogwarts materialized in nearly the same instance the elf vanished. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him. "Sleepover?"

Godric smiled. Perfect, his brother wasn't going to complain with Hogwarts involved. He sicked the adorable avatar of their school at Salazar. "Come on, cuddle Sally."

Salazar made a pained sound as Hogwarts basically tackled him as she claimed part of the old couch. Godric pulled his shoes off and joined them. Pillows and blankets fell onto them a moment later and Hogwarts squealed out helpless laughter.

Once they were comfortable, and an odd platter of cookies had sated any possible sweet tooth, Hogwarts asked sleepily, "Can we do this every night over the holidays?"

Godric was suddenly very awake. He and Salazar shared wide, horrified gazes. "Err," Godric slowly spoke up, not thrilled he was going to say this. "I've been called back to the Longbottoms for the holiday. I won't be here."

Hogwart's expression crumbled and her big luminous silver gaze turned to Sally. She saw his guilty expression and a pout appeared, "Papa Sally?"

"I'm sorry." Salazar said softly, "I'll try to be here for a day or two but I'm leaving for the Holiday and I can't be seen since I shouldn't be here. I've a meeting I have to make…I guess…I could have slipped out for it but I hadn't thought to do so. But I can sneak back in for Christmas at least."

She did not look thrilled. "You'll get me all the prank boxes you can carry then, right?"

"Prank boxes?" repeated Godric in confusion at the same time Salazar answered in an affirmative. Neither bothered explaining.

oooP7ooo

He played with the pendant Salazar had given him, the soft warmth of his brother's magic enveloped him in a type of notice-me-not spell, as they stomped through deep, fluffy snow. The steep roofs of houses peeked through the tree line as they tried to follow what appeared to be an animal trail, though it could as easily of been made by children enjoying the forest their homes resided within. The snow hid any tracks that would give them answers.

There were a few ways they could have entered Hogsmeade. There was the hidden escape route that ended in the village somewhere but they didn't actually know where it ended. That gave potential complications they didn't need at the moment. They could have walked with all the older years directly into Hogsmeade, no one would have noticed they were there if neither Salazar nor he wanted to be found—at least, it was extremely unlikely they would have been found out. Grudgingly, Godric had to agree that they didn't actually know what the professors and headmaster did to make sure only children with permission went to Hogsmeade. It was doubtful they just took the children's word for it.

Sally, unsurprisingly, decided they should walk through the man-eating spider-infested forest instead. Godric had to wonder at his brother's priorities and survival instincts sometimes. That they had to trudge through at least a foot of snow, more in places, made it an unpleasant hike.

At least they hadn't actually run into any giant spider looking for breakfast so far—and if they did at this point, they would be changing their plans for the day as they could see the cute little back gardens of some of the houses now. Hogsmeade villagers didn't deserve to be devoured by giant spiders any more than the Hogwarts population did.

His brother, wearing dark green, non-Hogwarts robes and a felt green hat, guided him through the forest and around part of the village before they slipped into one of the local neighborhoods. Anyone that spotted them entering Main Street, where most of the shopping resided, should assume they were just some local boys on the cusp of being old enough for Hogwarts—should, being the key factor. The necklace and whatever magic was on Sally's hat also should make it a moot point entirely.

Godric pulled at the stupid sweater that was starting to hang off him too loosely.—It was red which he appreciated but he was going to find a way to buy clothing he liked and didn't make him look like an ill-conceived young replica of his father.—He had a thick goldish brown winter robe that covered up his poor choice of clothing but he still felt awkward and uncomfortable in it. And he couldn't help wondering if older people would recognize Frank Longbottom with him dressed like this.

The Gryffindor founder glanced over Main Street in interest even as he avoided walking anywhere near the small groups of shoppers already there.—Sally had warned that the pendent no longer worked on someone if he bumped into the person.—To help enforce the idea that they weren't Hogwarts students, Sally had clearly brought them to the opposite entrance from the one the other students were coming from. There were no Hogwarts students amongst the shoppers on this end of the street. The rundown Hog's Head pub, used books, and junk shop at this tail end of the street wouldn't pull the students this way any time soon either. At least the cobblestone street was clear of any snow or ice, even though the sharply angled rooftops had a good foot or two of snow sitting precariously on them. There was even some snow sitting threateningly on the top of swinging store signs.

"What do you think?" Salazar asked, tilting his head to the right at a sign for the Woodcroft Hotel as they wandered past the more rundown section and into the heart of the street.

Godric made a face. "Likely to recall some kids coming through to use the floo." He spotted a sign for a Gringotts's branch. Golden letters gleamed off the tinted window, its message offering money exchange and draft issuance. "Same with the bank. It probably only gives floo trips to the main branch anyway."

Sally hummed in agreement.

They finally spotted some Hogwarts students gawking over the latest quidditch brooms at Splintwitches Sporting Goods. Not far beyond that shop, swung a sign with three broomsticks, announcing an inn. The two founders headed to the inn without pausing to ask, it was obviously the better option so far.

Even better, was the public floo right next to it. It was just like the many public floo entries at Diagon Alley. Like all public floo, it cost a few knuts to use. Of course, it would have cost as much, if not more, to use the Three Broomstick Inn's floo. It was usually more expensive unless you patronized the store.

Godric was the one to lead the way into the small building. There was no door, it was really a small shed built to protect the fireplaces from the weather. Inside, was just enough space for a central fireplace, with two sides and a walkway around it.

Sally made a slight noise as he followed through the short entry before he muttered, "There's some barrier that should have kept us from entering without an adult."

"Huh," Godric muttered back as he considered his own experience with public floos, "I've only ever used one of these with Gran or another adult with me." He glanced around the small room and added, "Let's get through it before anyone notices then."

A sign directed them to the right, even as someone sprang out of the fireplace to the left. They quickly followed the sign before the adult could spy them. The man didn't even glance in their direction as he swept purposely from the small room.

Another sign, directly opposite the fireplace, listed out the names of common public floos. Under it was a shelf with a very large book titled Floo Addresses of the Isles. Two smaller signs hung beside the large address-filled one. The first pronounced:

WARNING:

Private Floo Entry Restricted.

Call to confirm entry before attempting Floo.

No refund Upon failed Floo.

The other sign was just below the first and hung just above a coin box on the shelf. It listed the prices:

1 minute Floo Call: 3 Knuts

(For confirming entry only)

Floo Travel: 5 Knuts(6)

Salazar dropped ten knuts into the coin box. Two small transparent pouches appeared before the box.

"So," Godic said as he picked up one of the pouches, "we toss these into the fire, step in, and call out our destination's Floo address." The lecture Gran had given him came to mind as he tried to think of everything Sally should need to know. "The pouches are made to burn right up, there isn't any real delay between tossing it in and the floo activating but technically you only step in once the flames become green. After you call the address you'll be spun off through the Floo Network to the connected fireplace. Now Diagon Alley is an odd one. It's got floo entries throughout the place. We can floo to any of them but will be shot out from whichever is free if we don't specify. So either we agree on a spot to meet up or we choose one." Godric looked up at the sign of addresses and pointed to near the top and added. "Diagon Alley, Entry One through Nine. Gran took me through Entry three. It's near Gringotts and Longwood Exotic Plants and Seeds."

"One probably makes the most sense." Salazar answered, "Ollivander's is close to the Leaky Cauldron. That is the main entry into the alley, Floo One should be nearby, right?"

Godric answered, lips curling up into a faint grin of amusement, "Bloody unlikely, I'd say. It's as good as any, though."

Salazar huffed but didn't deny that there was a distinct lack of logic behind some decisions.

"I'll go first since I've done this before." Godric decided. He had only gone to Diagon Alley once but had used the floo all the time to Longwood and the other Longbottom properties, and even once to the Edinburgh shopping center's public floo. It wasn't much experience but far more than Sally had. "See you there."

His brother frowned at him but answered with a bland, "Right."

Godric stepped up to the fireplace and tossed the pouch into the glowing embers, spelled to remain just hot enough to catch the pouch aflame. Green flames exploded up and filled the walk-in fireplace entirely. The eleven-year-old stepped into the flames and called out over the roar of the fire, "Diagon Alley Entry One!"

A sucking sensation pulled Godric up and away. His view of the world spun with glimpses of many different Floo entries. Some were blocked by grates, clearly marking the entry as private and protected. Others revealed kitchens, rows of products on sale, and hallways of homes. Some revealed views of little shopping areas, snowy or rainy. One revealed a glimpse of a rainbow in the distance.

Magic shoved Godric out into Diagon Alley. He stumbled across cobblestones but caught himself and stepped to the side, trained since childhood to move as soon as possible so the entry could be used by the next person queued in the Floo system for the specific fireplace.

The particular public Floo was open to the broader alley, It only had a roof overhead and enough wall space to store the necessary signs and coin box. The fireplace he had exited from had a literal sign over it marking it as an exit.

An elderly couple stumbled out of the floo before Sally appeared. His brother staggered and nearly tumbled over before he steadied himself. He looked extremely displeased.

Godric stepped over and pulled Salazar to the side.

Emerald eyes snapped up to glare at him. "I'm never doing that again," groused Sally.

"We're going to use it to get back to Hogsmeade." Godric countered.

His brother responded by grumbling too quietly to be understood.

Ignoring Sally, Godric pulled him along and glanced around the shops. They were at the end of the alley but not the end with the Leaky Cauldron. Instead, there was a gate that shimmered slightly with magic denoting some type of entrance. The first shop, directly across from the Floo they had come from, was some fancy furniture store, literally called Elegant Furnishings.

Everything was decorated with garlands and glittering fairy lights to celebrate the coming holiday. Someone was playing a harp somewhere. Many of the shoppers were already showing off their latest Holiday fashions with furs and captured starlight glittering on hats and in elaborate hairstyles. Robes of emerald, gold, silver, and red were prominent (Sally and he oddly fit in with them sporting their house colors). One lady looked like she was covered in snowflakes and each step caused a burst of sparkling snowflake lace-like designs across the cobblestones. A man looked like he embodied this Santa Clause some of the children have talked about. Some children ran by looking like little elfin helpers that apparently made toys Santa Clause gifted.

The one time he had visited Diagon Alley, he had followed his Gran through a strict set of stores to collect his Hogwarts things. His gran, so proud of him for having enough magic to go to Hogwarts, had made one exception to their shopping by letting him wander through the Longwood Exotic Plants and Seeds store. He hadn't been allowed to buy anything since someone in the family likely had the plant already but he had been given a good thirty minutes to just bask in the presence of plants. —The fact that the Longbottoms ancestral manor was called Longwood heavily implied the store was owned by the Longbottoms. Godric hadn't been told but maybe he had been expected to make the connection.

Godric glanced over the other stores in immediate view. He had never been in this part of the Diagon Alley. He'd recall if he had walked by the Daily Prophet's or Witch Weekly's headquarters.—His gaze jumped to Sally, they should probably keep moving before some reporter realized The-Boy-Who-Lived was around when he should be at Hogwarts.

After a moment of Godric attempting to carefully guide them through the crowds without being trampled on, Sally pulled him over to a stand with scarves and hats.

"Pick a hat out," his brother ordered.

He couldn't help but scoff, "I have a hat–"

Green eyes narrowed at him as his brother scrutinized him. "You aren't talking about Alfred, are you?"

Godric couldn't stop the mulish expression as he grumbled, "Alfred is only needed for the sorting, no one would notice if we took him out over the holidays."

"He's become a very distinct old hat nearly every child on the Isles puts on," Salazar countered, "People would recognize him and he would be missed." Sally waved at the stand, "Pick one. If you don't like any here, there's a larger stand near Ollivanders. I got mine from that one. Either way, get a hat." His gaze flickered over the crowd before he added, "The pendant is not going to work here. It's too crowded."

"Fine," Godric glanced over the options. There weren't many normal hats. Most were decorated for the holidays. He picked up a burgundy pointed felt hat similar to Salazar's except it had garland wrapped around it and a few glowing fairy lights. "Does the garland come off?" He asked the saleswoman, who jumped, startled. The pendant had done its job until that moment.

"Eh, yes, young man." The woman cleared her throat and offered a charming smile as she recovered from the start, "Try it on. It'll be a lovely color on you, I'm sure."

"Oh," gushed out a voice from the mirror Godric looked into as he settled the hat on his head. "Very handsome look on you, dear."

Godric made a face in the mirror. He liked the color and the large brim. The Gryffindor turned to Salazar, not bothering to try any other hats. "Good enough."

Salazar rolled his eyes but paid the lady before taking the lead through the alley. "Come on, wand and then we can stop at a cafe for breakfast I know before heading back."

It took a while to push through the crowds of holiday shoppers and make it to the part of the alley Godric had been before. There were more popup stands than the last time Godric had been, each filled with holiday goodies and decor. The harp music gave way to violin music and this time Godric spied an instrumental quartet of floating violins, a viola, and a cello near the entry to Gringotts.

Sally reveals Ollivander's wand shop tucked away behind Slug & Jiggers Apoth. and very close to another public floo beside the brick entryway that led to the Leaky Cauldron. Inside was empty of patrons, probably the only shop in the entire alley that was. The dusty and dull lights made Godric question whether the place was even open. The stacks and stacks of long, thin boxes implied a large inventory.

The sounds of the bustling crowds vanished as the door clicked shut. Silencio enchantments tied to the windows and door, Godric thought with interest. Possibly a muffling enchantment instead. But it was too quiet for a muffling charm, so probably the silencio.

Salazar claimed the only chair in the room. Rickety and ready to fall apart at any moment, it groaned in warning as the small boy settled into it. Godric raised a brow at Sally but his brother was distracted by some thought or other and didn't respond.

Something was behind him. Godric pivoted, hand in his robe pocket, clenching his father's wand. Luckily he didn't draw it. The old man before him would have questioned why he had a wand at all and Godric had no desire to try to explain it away. Wandmakers could recognize their creations and recall their rightful owners too. They needed to be discrete. Him brandishing his father's wand would ruin that.

Large eyes took Godric in with open interest. "Neville Longbottom," he said after a moment, "You are late."

Well, Godric thought in bewilderment, being discrete usually worked out better.

Ollivander didn't appear to have realized there was an issue as he pulled out a tape measure and rambled at him. "Your father caught the attention of a stubborn wand—unicorn and ash, mildly rigid. Not surprising with that combination. Ash is stubborn and unicorn is loyal...Your mother, on the other hand, matched with an alder and unicorn wand with a surprising amount of flexibility for that wood type…"

The elder man seemed to finally spy Salazar, "Mr. Potter, yew and quetzalcoatl feather. You've taken care of it?"

"Of course sir," Salazar offered politely.

Godric bit his lip to fight back questions. The man couldn't possibly ignore the fact that two first years were in his store when the holiday break hadn't started yet.

Ollivander hummed as if he didn't quite believe Salazar but turned away to investigate his stacks of boxes. "Terrible what occurred to your parents...I, of course, made the wands that supported such atrocious actions but that is the danger of wand-making. You can never know what your wand will leave here to do...your wand hand?"

"Right," Godric offered as he tried to ignore the tape measure measuring the length of one of his earlobes, "Though, I can use either."

The wandmaker made another humming sound at that, gaze flicked back to regard him before glancing at Sally. "Two in one year. Most odd," he muttered to himself. "But they would be similar, yes…"

Godric glanced at Sally. His brother shrugged. It seemed the Ollivander clan never really changed. They were always so very odd. It was probably something to do with their wandcraft, their House magicks.

A wand was shoved under Godric's nose. "Unicorn and alder, rigid." Godric took the wand and felt the wood warm and almost instantly go cold right after. The Ollivander snatched it from his hand before he could do anything with it. "No."

The elder shuffled away and returned with two boxes. The first was a dragon and alder. He snatched that away just as quickly as the first. The second was phoenix and ash. Godric was allowed to wave it. The oil lamp's glass cracked.

"Definitely not," muttered Ollivander as he snatched it back too.

More wands passed through Godric's hands. Some went cold, some were warm, none were right. None were even close to Sally's wand but, eventually, that changed. Slowly the wands handed over were all warm. That warmth slowly grew until he was handed a cherry and unicorn wand.(7)

"Almost," breathed Ollivander with pure joy in his voice, having grown more thrilled by the moment. "We are so close...perhaps...but lethal...not what I'd expect of a Longbottom...but not impossible...just maybe...yes…"

The wand maker vanished back into the depths of his store before he reappeared with another old wand box. He blew a thick layer of dust off the box, something that had grown progressively thicker as he pulled wands out. This one had not been taken out for testing in years. The wand was a long, deep red.

"One of my first," Ollivander pronounced giddily, "It is not every day I have a chance to show off one of my first successes. Cherry from an American black cherry that refused to give more than this singular piece and dragon heartstring from a Chinese fireball, wild-caught near Calcutta."(8) He stared down at the wand for a moment, eyes tracing its lines. Then he shoved it out into Godric's hands. "Eleven inches, suitably springy."

Warmth flooded Godric and the founder smiled as he flicked his wand. Gold and silver firework-like sparks snapped out with eager pleasure. He finally had a wand for himself.

"Powerful," muttered Ollivander, "Oh very powerful but a steady mind...he will do…"

Godric let the old man ramble quietly as he savored the feeling of his new wand connecting to his core. He could feel the power align and thrum in excitement. Indeed, this would do. "How much?"

"Seven galleons," Ollivander chirped out as he packed away the unacceptable wands, "just seven till you come back for a second wand. That isn't subsidized by the ministry."

"How much is a second wand," asked Salazar as he rose and pulled out the galleons for Godric.

Ollivander snapped his gaze over to Slytherin. "One wand per person, Mr. Potter. There are penalties for carrying more than one. You'd only come back to see me if the wand refused to work any longer, which nearly never happens, or if you are one of those unfortunate souls using an inherited wand that is ill-suited to you. In that case, it is one of the first major purchases after starting their first job and their family should have scrounged up the seven galleons to give the poor child a better chance in their education...The cost depends on the material used, though. My cheapest is 77 galleons...my most expensive is 300 galleons. But it is the wand that chooses the wizard. Payment plans can be set if needed and you can help guide your options by stating your price range...a wand chooses the wizard but each wizard may be chosen by more than one wand. I prefer to give the best match possible but we cannot always be picky, can we?"(9)

"I suppose not, not with those prices," Salazar snarked out, "Makes you wonder why people purchase wands at all."

Ollivander shook his head, "Wandless magic is difficult, impossible by most...You'll learn all about that as you continue at Hogwarts." His gaze turned sharp as he added pointedly, "Which you both will return to now that your shopping is complete?" His gaze pointedly turned to his window where a public floo could just be seen and waited for the two founders to follow his gaze with their own.

"Of course," Salazar said slowly, a frown appearing at the clear orders to cut this trip short.

"Have a merry holiday Mr. Ollivander. We appreciate you not telling everyone about our visit. I should have gotten here earlier, as you noted…It just wasn't in the works until now." Godric offered so Sally didn't say anything ridiculous.

This was the part neither had been certain how to handle. They could technically bespell the man but doing so rarely worked out in the long run. The two founders had decided to play it by ear, Sally keeping his scar covered and avoiding saying anything to avoid notice. Ollivander House magick was clearly at play, helping the old man recognize Sally and him as Neville and Harry. There wasn't much they could have done to stop that.

The Ollivander of this time gave a short nod of agreement as he answered, "Indeed, you were very late and as it is the holidays, and you will be heading back immediately, I will only bring it to Albus's attention next time he decides to visit me," Ollivander's express turned slightly sour and grumbled out almost too quiet for them to catch, "Whenever that will be," before he spoke louder, "Merry holidays Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Potter."

Salazar muttered merry holidays back as they headed to the door. Godric met his brother's gaze and silently debated between the two. In the end, they did nothing. This was Ollivander land. It was entirely likely they'd cause more complications for them if they tried anything.

Godric led the way out.

"And boys," Ollivander called out after them, causing the two founders to glance back into the store, "I look forward to the explanation on how you two are using the Floo without adult supervision next time I see either of you."

He stared. Ollivander had just implied that he didn't expect to see them again for wands unless they had fucked up theirs. So when exactly did he think he'd see either Sally or him next?

Godric shared another look with Salazar before his brother turned back to the wandmaker and flashed a sharp smile as he said, "Of course," and closed the door with a sharp click. He grumbled out at the closed door. "Ollivanders." Which did summon the feeling of the moment up well.

They could feel Ollivander's gaze as they went to the public floo and obediently returned to Hogsmeade.

oooPooo

1. The history of mirrors is interesting. They were first created with obsidian back in ~3000 B.C., changed to sheets of bronze and copper, and eventually were curved glass with painted metal on the back. Glass mirrors stopped being made, at least in Europe, around the fall of Rome or in the Dark ages and were picked back up in the 13th century. It wasn't until about 16th century that the mirrors were made with flat glass though. Glass sheets large enough for someone to see their entire body were likely not created until later middle ages and not during Salazar's or Godric's time...at least without magic.

2. Ātman to ψυχή: the Global Phenomena of No-Maj understanding of Soul is a made-up book for this scene. Ātman is Sanskrit which means inner self or soul. ψυχή (Psūchê) is ancient Greek for soul.

3. 随神の道 or kannagara no michi is Japanese for "the way of the kami". This book is found in the soul magic section due to kami meaning more than god(s). It's the spiritual aspect of nature that may be manifested within aspects known as kami. It can be dead ancestors that had lived an exemplary life also. Honestly, the book is mostly there to remind Sal that he doesn't know all the languages that exist (by a long shot) but it does also likely cover the concept of musubi which is very similar to Sal's "mother nature" and natural energies as musubi is "the interconnecting energy of the universe". So the book might come back if Sal somehow learns kanji but it's doubtful he'd get far because he doesn't have time for that. Maybe he'd figure out that others on the other side of the world came to understand their own form of druidism through the diagrams the book has also. Mostly present for color and I have too many ideas around this.

4. Blœc means: means pale, white, sickly. Like Malfoy, the Black House name was chosen as an insult originally.

5. The Headmaster Dippet is Augusta Longbottom's father, according to this story. He was older than Dumbledore and so may have similar or even more strict opinions on child-rearing. It also implies the high possibility of Agusta being a contemporary of Dumbledore, or near about, which also gives an idea for how she thought it was ok to treat Neville how she has.

6. A scoop of Floo is 2 sickles and somehow has always been 2 sickles according to canon. So this is my best guess at the cost of a pinch in a fancy pouch with the ministry collecting a little profit. The Knight Bus is 11 sickles but it is an emergency service by its very definition. It also has to have more magic involve between the bus and keeping the Statute of Secrecy so I think the difference in cost is reasonable.

7. Neville's wand he eventually receives in canon was unicorn and cherry. (For anyone that has forgotten, I didn't make up the issue with Neville using his father's wand. I just may have made the wand even less responsive than in canon…though I lean towards it just not being a focus in the books personally.)

8. Neville/Godric's wand in the story is slightly different. I kept the cherry wood but gave him a dragon heartstring, specifically from a Chinese fireball dragon because fire and its coloring of red and gold (and for the below description of cherry with dragon heartstring).

Excerpts from Rowling's website about the wand material:

Dragon

As a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner.

The dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental.

Cherry wood

This very rare wand wood creates a wand of strange power, most highly prized by the wizarding students of the school of Mahoutokoro in Japan, where those who own cherry wands have special prestige. The Western wand-purchaser should dispel from their minds any notion that the pink blossom of the living tree makes for a frivolous or merely ornamental wand, for cherry wood often makes a wand that possesses truly lethal power, whatever the core, but if teamed with dragon heartstring, the wand ought never to be teamed with a wizard without exceptional self-control and strength of mind.

9. Headcanon: Ollivander totally matches kids to the best fit and starts with his more expensive wands and goes from there. Partly because he wants everyone to have the best wand possible but also because the Ministry will pay the difference. If the wand is cared for, the kids will rarely have to ever purchase another.