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)

27. Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

oooP1ooo

(Arcturus)

"I abhorred you," Arcturus announced towards his grandfather's portrait as he slammed through his office door and stomped over to the long-dead headmaster of Hogwarts.

"An illuminating meeting then, wasn't it?" his grandfather's portrait almost purred out, looking very much like the kneazle that had gotten the dust-fairy. "I hope you've begun setting the stones in place for a truly intriguing alliance."

Arcturus could feel his eye twitch. He closed his eyes and took a moment to just breathe. Grandfather couldn't have actually told him anything useful. The founders had restricted the information.

"Yes grandfather, I believe there is potential." He turned from the wall of portraits, ignored the explosion of questions from all the various dead kin, and settled into his desk chair before unrolling House Black's copy of the magically binding contract with House Slytherin. Arcturus took a moment to trace the signature of his Hogwarts house's founder in no little amount of wonder.

At least he had gotten to see the mirror of his shocked revelation on his notary's face. The poor sod would never be able to tell anyone about it either while he could. Not that telling all would do anything positive for the budding relationship.

"Elmore!"

The elderly House elf pop-clicked into the room and swept into a bow. "Master Arcturus calls?"

"Inform Cassiopeia that I would speak with her at once, prepare the owls for letter delivery, bring me a stack of my embossed parchment, my medicated tea, and the genealogy book," he ordered in rapid-fire.

The elf pop-clicked from the room only to reappear a moment later with a pot of his medicated tea and other requested items floating about him. All of it floated over and settled safely onto his desk. Elmore snapped his fingers and lit the fireplace before he announced, "Mistress Cassiopeia is on her way," and then pop-clicked away.

"Well, what did our resident Slytherin want," demanded Grandfather.

Arcturus rested a hand on the genealogy book as he retraced all the information he had learned and settled again and again on one horrible fact. "Squibs may not be squibs."

"What?"

He turned and stared over at the portraits. The general bewilderment was clear. He explained properly, "The contract binds all of you from speaking of this through other portraits…Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor have returned somehow. Perhaps they will explain how to me someday." He shook his head. "Pater Slytherin is certain the majority of squibs are not squibs. They just have inaccessible cores due to the lack of…of maintenance, I suppose." Arcturus picked up the contract and added, "He will help House Black gain an heir and take care of our cores in return for a meeting with Sirius—his godfather—monetary assets, and a reasonable boon."

He frowned as he stared down at the agreement and muttered to himself in realization, "I should have asked to be taught how to do these purification rituals. I'll have to find out what that will cost…We don't have a druid grove though…How does Slytherin have a druid's grove?"

"I'd add, how does one use a druid grove without being a druid," his Great Aunt Elladora called out, revealing that he wasn't muttering all that quietly.

Her words broke the stunned silence from the other portraits and questions flew. Arcturus flicked his wand out and silenced the lot. He had no interest in discussing this with any of them now. He needed to process it all still. He needed to push forward with it too.

Arcturus could not help but turn to the book instead of all the letters he needed to send.

The fire crackled in the hearth as he turned a page of his House tree. He traced a finger over each name with a missing death date. So many Blacks lost from ignorance. Too many to hunt down and bring back into the family.

He paused as he reached the page he had been hunting down. There was only one squib that may still be alive. Arcturus stared down at the incomplete information.

Marius Black, the third child of Cygnus Black Ⅱ, Arcturus's cousin, had been banished from the family. He hadn't been disowned, though. Most Black squibs had been banished instead of disowned, thankfully. If Marius had been removed by the House magicks, there would have been no point in searching this information out. The book would have also noted the man dead at the moment of disownment. Banishment simply left the death date empty.

"Merlin," he breathed out as he realized what it meant for all the older squib names in the family book, "If even a quarter of our supposed squibs married and had children…I wonder how many supposed muggleborns are just branches of our existing lines? How many children does House Black actually possess? How many would be willing to take up the Black name?"

The Pater of Black leaned back and nursed his medicine-infused tea as he thought of all the possible directions he could go with this. The Black magicks probed at him, prompting him to continue his search.

It was wishful thinking, of course. Any muggleborn with Black heritage would be so far removed from the House magicks, it would be doubtful the magick would accept them into the House. For some Houses, it would have been better that squibs had been properly disowned too. A squib could have told their children and those children could have told their children until a supposed muggleborn came along fully aware they had been part of a House but tossed out. That child could be a thorn in the House's side. The internal House political strife that could happen was enormous and ugly.

He shook his head and glanced back at the book and Marius's name. Finding his long-lost cousin was a long shot. The man would be seventy-five if the mess of his core or the many muggle wars hadn't killed him.

Arcturus frowned.

This would require an understanding of muggles too. He tapped his fingers against the wooden end table as he thought and rethought his options.

"Elmore," Arcturus called out as he looked up at his medusa painting thoughtfully.

The House elf pop-clicked into the room with a sharp bow. "Master calls?" creaked out the elderly elf.

He turned the elf and asked, "You were the one to take Marius away, weren't you?"

"Master?" the elf said slowly, clearly uncertain.

"Uncle Cygnus's squib child, Marius. He was a blond boy. You were ordered to take him somewhere," Arcturus explained. His eyes dropped back to the page and he made quick calculations before he added, "It would have been 1927 or 28."

Elmore considered the matter for a long moment before he nodded. "Yes master, I remember now. Little squib was to be sent to a nasty orphanage for nasty, dirty muggles."

"Do you recall where that orphanage was? Its name?" Arcturus demanded.

"Where, yes. Name, no," he answered.

The elder nodded. "Take a camera and go to the area. Take pictures of the buildings and any signs."

Elmore bowed and pop-clicked away.

He flicked the book to the front where all living members of the house were listed. It was time he called on the family and caught up, so to speak. He needed a squib before he could set the meeting up with Sirius and it needed to be one that knew the magical world. Even if Marius had children, it would be a delicate matter bringing them back in since they were legally muggles.—He would have to bring up the political maneuvering that needed to occur after the meeting with Sirius was completed. Pater Slytherin and maybe even Pater Gryffindor could be willing to ease the way into regaining his lost squib family. They needed to change the laws around squibs too.

He sighed. He had been done with all this political nonsense ages ago.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. "Come in."

Cassiopeia Black swept in, flicked a wand out to conjure a chair before his desk, and settled elegantly into it. Her blonde locks were shot with silver though she was only in her seventies. A witch of her pedigree should have a good twenty more years before age caught up to her. Another sign of this magical residue Salazar Slytherin had spoken of.

"You called, Pater?" she prompted in her no-nonsense manner.

Cassiopeia could have married well. She was still a beauty. It was her manner and her pursuit of magical theory that had ruined her chances. Of course, that had likely been on purpose. His favorite cousin had never been interested in popping out some pompous windbag's children. She had told him that enough times, he had her exact speech memorized.

"I require your help on a delicate matter," Arcturus stated.

"Oh?" She perked up, her lips pulled into a sharp smile, and she leaned in. "Do tell."

Arcturus lifted the contract but paused. It would lead to far more questions than he wanted to deal with. Instead, he rose. "Let me show you the memory. We don't have time for me to explain it all over again and again anyway." He flicked his wand at one of the bookshelves, causing it to move. Behind it was an old House relic. No one knew how to create pensieves anymore, at least in Europe. It was too complicated to figure out for the few that dabbled in the little runic magic and enchantments recorded for prosperity. And no one had bothered noting the process down.

Cassiopeia followed him to the pensieve without a word but he could feel her gaze burning into his back with curiosity. He pressed the tip of his wand to his temple, thought carefully of the meeting, and then pulled a copy of the memory from his mind. He set the silvery strand of memory into the pensieve and considered it for a long moment.

"Perhaps we both should watch this. I wonder how much I missed originally."

"Always good to reflect on important matters," she agreed. They shared a look and then leaned over at the same time. The pensieve flared with magic as it recognized their position and pulled them in.

When they came out of the memory, his little cousin, swept across the room with a swirl of her skirts and scooped up the contract on his desk.

Arcturus closed the hidden compartment, leaving the memory for his daughter to view next. Cygnus would likely want to view it also. (Cygnus would be displeased. Arcturus had entirely forgotten to include Druella in the contract for the purification rituals. Obnoxious woman. That was another item to request a contract for.)

Cassiopeia pulled her wand and cast multiple charms over the document. "This…cannot be real." Her gaze jumped back up to stare demandingly at him, blue gaze wide.

"Oh but it is," he countered with a faint smirk, "Your charms confirm that, do they not? The memory proved it."

"Slytherin…" she breathed out.

Arcturus nodded.

She sank into her conjured chair and reread the contract more carefully.

Arcturus reclaimed his own seat before he explained, "We need to find the squib as soon as possible. I would prefer to have this meeting with Sirius before the Hogwarts holiday break is over so that the first monthly purification meeting may occur on the upcoming new moon night."

She gave a curt nod, gaze still sliding over the lines of the contract. "Too right."

"I believe our best route is to speak with our various cousins to see if they know of a squib," Arcturus said, "It would be best if she is close to Sirius's age. The less the media can eviscerate House Black over this, the better."

His cousin nodded again, more thoughtful this time. She looked up from the contract and said, "I can speak with Narcissa, though it's entirely unlikely House Malfoy has any squibs. She may have heard of some hint of one somewhere…Little Cygnus is unlike to know anything his daughter doesn't know but I suppose I can force myself through tea with Druella."

"I will speak with my daughter."

Cassiopeia stared at him for a moment, expectant. When he didn't add anything else, she sniffed in disdain and stated, "You will have to be the one to speak with Callidora and Cedrella. Callidora is likely on tenterhooks waiting for a letter from you already. Cedrella and I haven't spoken since she married that absolute bore."

"How helpful," Arcturus groused, "You'll speak to the only cousins that are easy to speak with–"

"Oh," her lips quirked as her gaze turned back to the contract and her fingers traced a certain signature. She said, "I can think of a few things to help this along."

"He is physically eleven, Cassie."

Her gaze snapped back up to meet his, startled. Then she rolled her eyes. "I am not going to seduce him."

Arcturus raised an eyebrow.

His little cousin lit up, showing how gorgeous she was as she spoke with passion, and not a little bit of insanity, "Think of what he may know about magic. In the memory, you could just see him debating following through with the hospitium ritual or not. I don't know a single person who even knows how to break a ritual off without causing terrible harm to themselves. He clearly knew how, though!" She turned a little distant and her lovely smile widened as she imagined something particularly glorious. "I want to dissect his brain."

"No killing Salazar Slytherin."

She waved that off and Arcturus debated ordering her to stay away from the Slytherin Pater for a long moment. It was highly unlikely that she'd listen, though. Warning Slytherin about her inevitable visit might be more productive.

He had more pressing matters anyway. Letters needed to be written. A squib woman needed to be found and convinced to carry the Black heir. A meeting to be set up. His House needed to be saved.

Slytherin should be able to handle his little cousin. He was bloody Salazar Slytherin after all, even if he was also an eleven-year-old too.

oooP2ooo

(Neville)

He finally pulled himself away from Alfred's magical weave with a faint frown. Thirty-three enchantments to remove. A few were particularly nasty looking curses that seemed set in a dormant state. Their trigger was the attempted removal of another of the enchantments he needed to remove. Those would be particularly irritating.

Godric set Alfred back onto the table and stretched, cracking his back. He found Sally flopped over onto his bed, emerald hat still on and feet dangling over the edge. He looked vaguely defeated.

"Didn't go well?"

It took a moment before Sally turned his head slightly and answered, voice muffled against the bed but barely understandable. "He insisted on the hospitium."

A stab of panic swept over Godric before he forcefully pushed it aside. It still peeked through in his voice as he said, though it was more a demand no matter how much he tried to speak casually, "He knows who you are."

Salazar nodded his head against the bed before he said, voice muffled, "He knows who we both are."

The panic bubbled back up. This was the last thing he needed—disownment and then the world finding out who he was except realizing he was broken. His magic was doing better but it still wasn't right. He had lost a part of himself with the disownment and he could still feel the loss in his core even though he hadn't noticed whatever he had lost even being there in the first place. And gods, everyone would see his disownment and the stupid grades he had allowed to stay for the whole purpose of anonymity, and realize he was truly the idiotic fool of the founders, only good at killing things—

Magic was softly pulsing against his chest, in time with a steady heartbeat. It slowly guided his breath to ease and his own heart rate to slow. He opened his eyes and focused on Salazar who was leaning over him, his brother's hand against his chest.

"He's not going to announce it to anyone. Our agreement leaves both of us in positions to screw each other over but far fewer people would believe his claims that we are the founders reborn than my claim that he's going to do illegal things to continue his House through a line with the Black surname attached, " Salazar said, tone firm.

Salazar slowly dropped his hand from Godric's chest and sighed. His gaze turned towards the window as he added, "I'm just questioning my decision to reveal ourselves…on whether or not what we got from it was worth it." His green gaze turned back to look down at Godric. "But we do need allies. With Black, we're in a position to support each other and that is the best form of an ally to make."

"And so he knows about both of us?" Godric repeated as he tried to remain calm, "the ritual should have only revealed you."

Salazar made a face as he leaned back against the table and said, "One of his relatives has a portrait in the headmaster's office and he's paying your Hogwarts tutition. "

"But I told them they couldn't communicate anything about us," Godric complained before he paused and straightened up in the chair as he realized what Sally had just said, "Really? All of it?"

His brother shrugged, shifted up, and circled the table to claim the other chair as he explained, "All of the seven years. We'll just have to purchase your school material. Uniform and things…How's Alfred?"

Godric blinked at the change of topic as he refocused and scowled over to his enchanted hat, "Thirty-three enchantments! Who thought they needed to place so many bleeding enchantments on him!?"

"I thought we agreed to leave it until Dumbledore was out of the way?" Salazar asked in turn.

"You agreed with yourself about that. I just didn't say anything since at that very moment we didn't have time," countered Godric, "Anyway, Alfred's here. Dumbledore's not. All we need is some House elves to grab the trinkets that trigger alerts so we can disable them and reset some new alerts on them to fool the man. I imagine you've thought of a few ways to protect Alfred from future enchantments too."

Salazar turned thoughtfully. "I've some ideas…We still have to do it when he's not in the office but since he hasn't even noticed Alfred missing yet, it could work."

"Exactly. And that's true for everything we need to get done at Hogwarts. We just need to handle these things in ways others are unlikely to notice until they cannot do anything about it and so they cannot trace it back to us," Godric stated before he called out, "Olen."

"True," agreed Sally thoughtfully even as the House elf pop-clicked in with a very pleased smile.

The elf swept into an exaggerated bow and pronounced, "You called, Master."

It was entirely over the top. Godric caught the stifled snort of amusement from his brother before Salazar called out also, "Mipsy."

She pop-clicked in with her usual cheerful bounce in her step. Said bounce faded along with her grin at the sight of Olen. Olen flashed a grin her way.

Mipsy huffed and turned firmly at an angle that pointed her back toward her fellow House elf as she looked at Salazar. "You be needing something?"

"It's finally time to fix me up, I say," Alfred announced cheerfully from where he had sait quietly at the center of the table. "Could use a bit of beeswax and a few patch jobs while we're at it."

Both elves blinked almost owlishly over at the Sorting Hat. Olen dutifully nodded at the hat and Mipsy snapped her fingers, causing a jar of what was likely actual beeswax to appear on the table.

Godric spoke up before Alfie could send the House elves off on some odd adventure. "We're going to take off the additional spells people have placed on Alfred. They're tied to trinkets in Dumbledore's office which should do something to alert the man to the removal of said spells. So we need to do this when he isn't in his office and when you can grab these trinkets for us to fiddle with–"

"He's not in his office now," Olen offered.

Mipsy nodded. "He's been out all day. Ministry business pulled him away. The Minister sent him lots and lots of mail about a fire not going out."

"Oh," Godric shared a look with Sally as he tried and failed to keep a smirk off his face at the thought of Dumbledore trying to extinguish his fire before he said, "Great. We're taking it all off now, then. We'll have to stop when the old man is back in the castle. Can Hogwarts inform you both…or us, I suppose?"

"I be telling her!" cried Olen in a rush. His golfball round eyes jumped to Mipsy as he rushed this out. Then he pop-clicked away before any of them could say anything.

Mipsy huffed and folded her arms across her chest. "Mipsy be in the Heads Master room keeping an eye out for alerts." A second pop-click announced her leaving.

Godric raised a brow at Sally and stated. "This is how you check off things on a list."

Sally rolled his eyes and grumbled something about the meeting with Black having been bloody well checked off too.—Godric didn't pay enough mind to catch the exact phrasing. He instead turned to the Sorting Hat and the weave of magic he had just finished sifting through. It wasn't long before the familiar feel of Sally's magic joined him. He pointed, so to speak, towards the various enchantments and got to work.

It was a delicate, complicated process but one both of them had done in the past. There were a few ways to handle removing an enchantment from the weave of a cloth. The safest was finding one of the ends of the spell and unraveling it. The quicker route was "snipping" the enchantment into pieces and pulling those pieces out before they evolved into something unstable or, worse, attached to an existing enchantment because the pieces were similar in magical formation to combine fully with the other enchantment it was woven in with.

Godric didn't dare cut the enchantments apart when it was woven into a sentient's magic. They didn't need a personality change or even Alfred's woven purpose to be altered. He could tell Sally was of the same belief as his brother began to slowly unwind one of the thirty-three spells.

oooP3ooo

(Albus)

Fawkes' fire danced around him as his phoenix familiar fire-traveled him through the wards of Hogwarts. The flames died away and revealed a hidden little room in the depths of the dungeons. Anyone else would have to go through multiple rather ingenious challenges, perfect for a few enterprising first years, to reach this room.

At first glance, the little room was entirely empty. Only a single door led from the small space. He had plans to add a final challenge here. It would be both more challenging due to the nature of what it would protect and be enlightening on the character of the first year he hoped to have attempt it.

Learning more about the boy would be more than enlightening. It was needed. The child was not what he had expected.

Albus shook his head at his thoughts and pulled his wand from its sheath. His fiery friend let go of his shoulder and glided up to circle the room from the ceiling as he got to work. He had, of course, hidden the object within the room. An ingenious little areal protection enchantment kept any spirit—whether it possessed someone or not—from reaching the object.

The headmaster waved his wand about and slowly connected with the enchantment, pleased as he felt its whole state. A few spirits had interacted with it, which was not surprising since he hadn't informed any of the ghosts that they should avoid the area so he could test the enchantment fully. That it had been interacted with but was whole meant it was an overall success.

He flicked his wand down, splitting the enchantment open and revealing the hidden alcove in the corner where an end table stood with a cushion. When he took a step magic flames burst up over the door blocking the exit. Since he hadn't drank one of Severus's draughts from the other room he would not be able to safely walk through the flames but Fawkes would teleport him to his office easily enough.

Albus was being paranoid—there was no indication the stone was gone—but he would take a page out of Alastor's books today.

He hadn't been able to find any more answers than the others called upon to investigate the activated House seats.—There were no answers. Not a drop of foreign magic could be found within the council, around or on the two seats, or anywhere else near the area. The seats had activated outside a formal presentation and they had nothing to give the public but that fact. It would be mayhem once the papers hit.

For now, Albus dared not speak of what it could mean. Only Alastor had an inkling as he had contacted the retired auror to continue the investigation with a slant toward the worse possibility. Most wouldn't believe him simply because the potential truth would be terrifying. Too many people remembered the last war and chose to bury the horrors into the back of their minds where they didn't have to acknowledge all the loss.

Of course, it was only the worse possibility. Albus could be wrong and everyone would be able to continue ignoring past atrocities. He hoped he was wrong.

Tom had never claimed the Slytherin House seat. He had only ever claimed to be the Heir of Slytherin, as all the Gaunts before him had dared do. But Albus also could not deny Tom's genius compared to the inbred nature of his pureblood kin. If any Gaunt could figure out how to become Pater Slytherin, it was Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Of course, Tom would have to have regained a physical body to claim the seat. Last his contacts had told him, Tom was a spirit desperately haunting an Albanian woods, possessing wildlife.

Master Flamel had theorized that a living soul, technically permanently separated from their body through an accidental incident of astral projection in the paper, could gain a new body with no major repercussions by submerging into a bath of the liquid the magnificent philosopher's stone created for eternal life. It was a paper few knew of since it was written in 1683.

He had little doubt Tom had read it. Or hunted that knowledge down somehow while stuck as the strange free-moving spirit he was. It was entirely why the stone was here. Tom would come for it and Albus would have Harry there to meet him. This would allow young Harry a somewhat regulated confrontation with a very weak Tom in a year or two. The child wouldn't die prematurely and would learn how to handle himself against Tom.

Unease rushed through Albus as he came to a stop before the little table. His tall, lean form slumped over the corner it as he leaned in to stare down at the cushion he had placed on the middle of the table. A crushing horror began to crawl through him.

The cushion was empty.

Thoughts scattered through his mind. A million things he had to do. So many lives that had been lost in the last war. All the lives that would be lost in the coming war.

Harry wasn't ready.

Albus didn't want to lead a child to his death.—Harry was supposed to at least live through his childhood. He was supposed to be an adult when he finally had to die.

Why did he always have to lead the fight in such dark times? Why couldn't his last years be quiet ones with him able to focus on the bright minds within these old stone walls?

His form drooped as the weight of his thoughts seared through him.

The prophecy had to be fullied. It was nudging all the key players ever toward their final positions on the board. He needed to guide them as he could so that Tom did not win. Neville needed to be placed back on the board where he could be guided properly yet. Harry would have to be nudged along quicker.

"Fawkes!" he called, raising his hand up to catch hold of his old companion. Fire burst about him as claws carefully grasped his wrist. Their bond guided the bird to teleport them to his office. "Thank you, my friend," he said to the phoenix as the creature let go of his wrist and flew about his room before settling on its perch.

He glanced over his tables of enchanted objects and found the one for Privet Drive. It was not blaring in warning so Harry should be safe. All the same, Albus stalked over to the fireplace, popped open the tin on the mantel, and threw a pinch of floo powder into the cool fireplace. He called out as he knelt, "Wisteria Walk!"

A noise behind him drew Albus's gaze from the fire. He frowned at the various portraits tutting at the Sorting Hat. The thing probably complained about a lack of a view from its shelf again. He shook his head and turned back to the green flames.

One of Arabella's kneazles glared out of the green flames at him. It meowed demandingly.

"I need Arabella at once," he ordered before recalling the prickly nature of her cats and tacked on, "please."

The overly fluffy cat sniffed unimpressed at him and flicked its overly fluffy tail.

Albus internally groaned but tried again, taking on a nicer tone. "It's about the welfare of young Mr. Potter. You all like young Harry, don't you? I must speak with Arabella to ascertain his safety."

This finally seemed to be an acceptable request as the fluffball on paw rose with another meow and vanished from view. Of course, nothing actually happened besides multiple kneazles wandering into his view and settling to stare at him as if he was entertainment. Albus was on the verge of canceling his floo call and requesting Fawkes teleport him over there when Arabella finally shuffled into the room in her bathrobe.

"Albus do you have any idea what time it is?" she groused at him as she knelt before the fire.

"Is Harry safe?" Albus demanded instead of answering, well aware that it was early. He had yet to actually sleep since before the fire at Longwood and he didn't expect to sleep until after multiple things were done today.

She huffed. "Yes, of course. If you had been around days ago, you have heard this already at a normal hour!" She frowned at him. "What is this about now? Has something happened?"

He shook his head and sighed. "It'll be in the news…and I've yet to ascertain what all it may mean…but let me know as soon as you can if anything odd occurs in the neighborhood."

"Yes, of course." Arabella agreed, now very awake and clearly worried. "I'll have my cats out in force to keep an eye out. Petunia's keeping Harry close as she always has so I don't expect to see him out and about for the holiday. It'll be a good thing for now I suppose."

"Thank you, Arabella," Albus said, "I'll let you return to bed."

She huffed but if she said anything else, Albus didn't hear it as he ended the floo call before she could respond. He rose with a soft groan and hand pressed to his creaking back.

At least Harry was safe. Now Neville needed to be.

"House elf!"

A pop-click announced one of the Hogwarts elves. He stalked over to his desk and ordered, "I need Severus."

Another pop-click told him his orders were being carried out. Albus settled into his seat and pulled out parchment to write a letter requesting time with his ancient mentor. By the time his letter to Flamel was complete, a knock was heard at the door. Albus held the letter out to Fawkes, "If you would take this to Nicolas please Fawkes? And wait for a response. Thank you."

Once the bird was gone he called out, "Come in."

Severus stepped in looking as dower and grim as ever. "You needed me, Albus?"

"Ah, yes, my boy." Albus said and waved the potion master to a chair, "Come. I'm afraid there is some serious business to manage. And I have a young man I need your help finding."

oooP4ooo

(Neville)

The smell of warm brewed apple cider, something he hadn't smelled in an age, dragged Godric into the waking world. Sunlight stabbed into his eyes. Godric groaned and pulled a pillow over his face. It took a moment for his mind to process exactly where he had smelled that particular apple cider before. The blond peeked out from under his pillow. His gaze scored over the room and stilled at the table where decoration of pine and holly branches curled around large, merrily lit candles. The candle flames were unnaturally golden.

It was the Solstice.

Godric forced himself upright and searched out his brother.

Sally was curled up in a chair with his feet tucked under him, nursing a mug with one hand and a distant look. He was also messaging his forehead though he didn't seem to realize it.

"Deep thoughts for way too early, Sally," grumbled Godric, "Heachache?"

"It's noon." Salazar countered calmly. "It is also the Solstice we haven't been able to properly celebrate in ages–" His hand paused in its motion over his brow and he dropped it to the armrest of the chair. "–And no."

"Well, Merry Yule." Godric offered as he tossed his blankets off and rolled out of bed.

Salazar rose and picked up a waiting cup that he held out in offering as he answered, "Indeed, Merry Yule." When Godric took the cup his brother lifted his own up in cheers, "to health…and warm and calmer days."(1)

Godric laughed at the addition to the normal toast for good health but clicked his cup against Salazar's before taking a swig of the hot beverage. His eyes closed and a hum of appreciation escaped as the burst of flavor filled his mouth. The apple cider wasn't quite Helga's recipe. For all that Salazar had to have gotten the liquid from the House elves, it was his brother's mix of spices. It had been far too long since he had drank his brother's version.

Fuck. He was not getting teary-eyed.

Godric took another swig before he turned back to his bed to put it to rights.

A tapping against glass pulled Godric's gaze to the window. Hedwig and another owl sat out there, staring in. Sally twisted a hand at the window, the lazy sod, and it swing up. The unknown owl dropped a newspaper and flew out immediately after. Two other owls followed suit until Sally had his usual pile of subscriptions. Hedwig offered her leg with a letter tied to it. Then more owls flew in with letters tied to their legs. Many flew to Sally. Multiple flew to Godric.

"What the bloody hell," muttered Godric as he pulled a letter off and set an owl free only for two owls to take its place. A glance at his brother found him in no better position.

It took ages to free all the letters and to remove all the birds from the room. Not all the owls wanted to leave. When all but Hedwig was out, Godric slammed the window shut. A horde of owls stared in at them, many with even more letters on their legs.

Godric looked to Sally as he flipped one of his letters about in his hand and asked, "What the hell is going on? Should we even open these? Cursed letters are a thing."

"This one's from Hannah. I've forgotten to rsvp for her and Susan's parties. She's letting me know to do so before it's rude. Not responding at all is rude?" Salazar answered as he waved the one letter he had bothered opening so far at Godric before he added, "None of the letters I've held had anything but the normal parchment and ink preservation magic on them."

"Yes it's impolite to not respond at all and you should go. I can finally have some time to myself," Godric sniffed. At Sally's unimpressed look, he explained more seriously, "You had planned to go before everything, didn't you? So go."

Sally hummed thoughtfully and slowly nodded after a moment. "Very well. They're after Christmas anyway.–" He picked up his sachet. "–I just need to find their invitations."

Godric watched him dig through the bag, pull out multiple things that didn't seem particularly necessary, and shook his head. He looked back down at the letter he still had in hand and finally actually read who it was addressed to. "What. The. Fuck."

"I didn't expect we could just call on Mipsy or Olen to bring us anything from Hgowarts, " grumbled Salazar, head almost in his bag as he dug through things.

"Not that!" Godric countered as he stomped over to Slytherin and stuffed the letter in his brother's face.

Salazar leaned away from the parchment and pushed his glass up. He frowned. "That's addressed to Pater Gryffindor."

"Exactly!"

Green eyes snapped up to meet his gaze. Then Salazar leaned around him and snagged one of his own letters. They both stared down at the address. It was to Pater Slytherin.

Salazar helpfully started cursing in parsel. Then he pushed all the various piles of letters and things he had dug out of his satchel off the table until he found the newspapers. The Daily Prophet was on the top of the pile and its cover answered the question about the letters.

House Gryffindor and House Slytherin Seats on the Wizard Council Active!

The entire cover had a large image of four ornate wooden throne-like seats. All four had large metal disks on the back depicting the House animal. They were in alphabetic order.

Godric's house was first with a golden lion crowned in oak leaves on its head snarling out at the photographer. A black honey badger pounced toward them on a field of yellow wheat on the second seat. The Ravenclaw seat's sigil was darkened and unanimated but clearly of a raven—the only House animal that didn't match up with the school mascot and Rowena's eagle Patronus.—Salazar's green, spiny snake with an illusionary appearance of possible antlers was curled up within the third seat's metal disk. It watched the reader with silver-green eyes and a tongue that flickered out every few moments.

"I don't think our ritual claiming was limited to the magical ability side of things," Salazar finally said rather uselessly.

Godric shook his head as he picked up the Daily Prophet. "We're not supposed to be able to claim anything—money, land, seats, contracts…any of it until we're at least thirteen!" He flipped the newspaper open and scanned the article even as he continued to complain about that fact as a pop-click resounded in the background, "For fuck sake, we are supposed to present ourselves to the Council to be able to activate our seats.–" he stabbed a finger at the article. "–Here! It says exactly that. It is unknown how the two Hogwarts House seats have activated. No one presented themselves during the December meeting. As is tradition, the Council room is kept sealed between meetings. Prime Councilor Ogden was notified of this strange occurrence by the House elves charged with cleaning the council room during the early hours of the twenty-first."

He paused to scan over the article and couldn't help but read out loud, "House Gryffindor has been inactive since the last Pater, Liam Weasley, was murdered by Death Eaters in 1979 at the age of fifteen—Fifteen!? They killed a teenager because he was Pater Gryffindor?!"

"Tom Riddle considered himself Heir Slytherin and believed Gryffindor a mortal enemy," Alfred answered.

Godric looked over to his hat, startled. The Sorting Hat sat in Olen's arms. "You're back."

"Yes, Albus showed up early this morning for a time. I came back as soon as I could so you could finish taking off the curses! Only five left. I cannot recall the last time I only had five curses on me! Centuries I think," Alfred gushed as he flexed his brim about excitedly. Olen rolled his eyes over the point of the hat's head and set the leather bundle onto the table, careful of the piles Salazar had made and of the Yule decor.

Salazar frowned at Alfred even as he yanked the newspaper from Godric. He glanced through the article with his lips pressed into a displeased line. After a moment he read out loud, "House Slytherin has no recorded activity, though was known to be managed by cousins for the first few centuries after Pater Salazar Slytherin's death. It is recorded that the cousins were no longer recognized as representatives in 1382 for unknown reasons though there was speculation that the family, known as the Gaunts by then, were on the verge of being Squibed."

Godric met Sally's gaze as his brother fell silent and looked up from the article. This had not been an expected result of their ritual. There were processes in place for them to claim the seats, processes they hadn't done. What else had activated when they had been claimed by their Houses?

Alfred helpfully said, "You both woke up from the claiming ritual on the twenty-first."

"But we didn't go claim the seats!"

The hat pointed out, "but you both have. You in your previous life Master Godric. And you in your vision Master Salazar."

Both founders shared a look, silently agreeing. They could have done without magic doing whatever the hell she wanted this time around. Wasn't this reincarnation mess enough for her? (No, was the clear answer.)

"Master Rie," interrupted Olen, "Heads master has left again today. Do you want to finish removing the enchantments from Mister Alfie?"

"I–" Godric paused and glanced at Sally. "It's the Solstice."

Salazar shook his head, "There isn't much celebrating we can do in an inn. And we need to take a handle on these letters. We cannot have letters addressed to Pater Slytherin and Pater Gryffindor just show up like this!"

His brother scowled over at the window. There were even more owls staring in at them. Godric grimaced. It was definitely going to become an issue soon.

"I'm not sure how we can deal with it though." Sally turned back to him with a huff as he said, "So why not. We can work on the curses though I doubt we'll completely remove them today."

"We can at least go find good food afterward," Godric offered before he paused in thought and added, "And I know how we should be able to deal with the letters. We need to go to the post office."

His brother's brow furrowed at the suggestion. "Well," the parselmouth said as he turned back to his satchel, "I might as well find those invitations if we're going to the post office."

Godric hummed in agreement and considered his own opportunity here. "Could I have some material to write a letter?"

Sally shrugged and distractedly flicked a parchment and pen over to him. Godric fiddled with the pen as he tried to think how to write the letter. He didn't know if any Bargeworthy's were still alive and who they were if there were any. He also didn't want them to think he was sending a letter due to his disownment. Godric didn't want their pity or their money.

He wanted to meet them. He just wanted to know if he had any other family besides Salazar.

oooP5ooo

(Arcturus)

He sipped at his medical tea. The Daily Prophet article announcing the change in the line of inheritance for House Longbottom sat on the coffee table before him. The article was regulated to the fifth page due to the Gryffindor and Slytherin seats activating. Fitzwilliam had to be displeased that the headliner anyone would recall regarding the change in inheritance would be the one involving the "freak" fire. Somehow, he doubted that fire was as much a freak accident by muggle campers as the Longbottoms wanted others to think.

Arcturus smirked as he imagined Longbottom's face when he finally found out exactly who he threw out of his family.

The smirk faded. The disownment of Pater Gryffindor did potentially add complications to his plans. Cousin Callidora was married to Harfang Longbottom. Her husband was now Heir Longbottom. Due to Harfang's age, it was more likely their son, Humphrey, and grandson, Percival, would inherit.

It was an excellent prospective alliance for House Black, especially since Bellatrix had destroyed the original alliance formally formed by Callidora's marriage. Of course, Fitzwilliam was unlikely to agree to any formal reform of their alliance. Formalizing it once more would have to wait until the Longbottoms that cared about Franklin Longbottom were dead.

Perhaps it was for the better, Arcturus had a very good feeling the better alliance would be with Pater Slytherin and Pater Gryffindor. And he doubted they would be interested in an alliance if he was allied with Longbottom. Of course, Bellatrix had harmed Pater Gryffindor's parents in this life.—That was a complication he needed to remove before it became an issue.

An alliance with Longbottom wasn't the concern now, anyway. It wouldn't be a concern until Fitzwilliam, at the very least, kicked the bucket. And frankly, Arcturus was more likely to die first so the potential with the Longbottom alliance would be something Cassiopeia and the future heir would have to keep in consideration.

This was the perfect opportunity to call on Callidora, though.

Arcturus Black sipped at his tea as he waited and tried not to grimace at the medical undertones. Callidora would be prompt, he was certain. She had never been the type of woman to slight him. The woman wouldn't take the opportunity to slight him now even though she had reason to do so for all the foolish lies Walburga had spread over the years.

Callidora would recognize the opportunity presented. She would come here with the expectation that he was open to an alliance. And Arcturus saw no reason to dissuade her of the idea. Giving her this meeting, even if Fitzwilliam was disinclined toward forgiveness, would boost Callidora's position and enforce that moving the inheritance as Fitzwilliam had done was the right move—even though it was probably the worst thing Fitzwilliam could have done. Godric Gryffindor would have never inherited the Patership of House Longbottom anyway. He was Pater Gryffindor after all. House Longbottom's headship would have ended up going to Percival in the end. All Fitzwilliam had done was make an enemy of House Gryffindor and its founder. And likely House Slytherin too.

Elmore opened the study door and bowed. His wrinkled, floppy ears brushed the floor as he announced, "Madam Callidora Longbottom." A quiet pop-click announced Elmore leaving, it barely registered on Arcturus's mind now.

Callidora was similar to Cassiopeia in many ways. Silver threaded through her blonde hair, faint wrinkles framed gray eyes, and even her elegant gait reminded Arcturus of his favorite cousin. But the similarities ended there. Callidora glided in as befitting a Black but could not hide her uncertainty. She could not hide her surprise and concern over his appearance quickly enough either. She settled delicately onto the green leather couch across from him. Her discomfort only vanished when her eyes set upon the Daily Prophet.

"Pater," Callidora said, "my husband sends his regards. Harfang and my son would enjoy a meeting, perhaps over drinks at the Drunken Unicorn, if you are ever available."

"Perhaps," Arcturus answered with no commitment, amused at his cousin's enthusiasm at setting the theme of the meeting. "Tea?"

"Please," she said as she tucked her hands onto her lap.

Elmore pop-clicked into the room with a small pot of tea and a platter of delicately cut sandwich triangles. The enchantments on the newly delivered pot guided it into the air and to its related cup to pour out just the right amount of tea.

"Congratulations are in order," he offered after a moment.

Callidora straightened with pleasure, lips curled up into a faint smile.

"Though, one must wonder…" Arcturus paused to take a sip of his tea.

His cousin shifted and her pleasure dimmed. "Yes, well…Neville never fully recovered from what happened with his parents."

"Ah, yes...tortured into insanity was it?"

She frowned. "It's more that their minds were destroyed…I'm afraid I don't know all the details of their care, Pater."

Arcturus hummed thoughtfully. "Understandable. Pater Longbottom would have kept that close to the chest…I am surprised they only had the one child, though. Weren't they married for multiple years?"

Callidora nodded as she spooned sugar into her tea with a flick of her wand. "They were and misfortune left them with only Neville."

"Misfortune?"

"Common in the Longbottom House," she admitted before she realized what she had implied and quickly added, "Not that there were any issues with my Humphrey or Winona. If it hadn't been for the war, Winona would have married and had children of her own. And Percival is courting Eris Zabini. A little unusual, I suppose but she is quite powerful and from good stock."

Arcturus raised a brow. "It's up to Fitzwilliam to voice concerns on her heritage. Not mine."

Callidora relaxed at that. "And he hasn't. Times are always changing and she's a good girl even if not local. She did go to Hogwarts too."

"Still, misfortune cropping up, and Egbert also had only one son?" Arcturus croaked out as he probed back in the direction he wanted.

"Well, none of us had many children," Callidora demurred.

Arcturus remarked in concern, "You shouldn't have expected to have more than you desired. You and Harfang weren't close enough in line to inherit. Egbert was heir...and Algernon, was it?" At her nod, he finished his statement, "only had daughters?"

"Algernon married a Goshawk," she continued to demur, "That family has always been prone towards daughters."

The Black Pater scoffed, "That does not explain Egbert. One boy who only had one boy. That does not protect the line. It nearly guarantees its destruction! What was Fitzwilliam thinking, particularly with two wars to go through."

"There were other children," Callidora finally broke as she jumped to the defense of her husband's House, as a proper wife should. "It was Augusta's fault. I always warned everyone that a Dippet was not an acceptable wife to the heir but no one listened. They wished they had now!"

She leaned forward as the dam broke and she spilled it all out, clearly thrilled she finally found someone to say it all to—specifically someone visibly dying and known as a recluse. "She had three children, not just one. Albert, Isolde, and Franklin. The two older children were squibs! Thank Merlin for the tradition to keep the children within the family confines. If it had gotten out that House Longbottom had two squibs in one generation...and then Frank had two children die as babies–" She shook her head in disgust. "Neville and the other issues could have ruined House Longbottom. Can you believe Frank had the idiocy to name Neville after his squib brother? Neville Albert Longbottom. Thank goodness the boy is no longer heir...too bad the House magicks threw him out entirely. He was skilled at herbology and would have made an excellent manager of the botanical gardens."

"I presume they were removed from the family when no Hogwarts letter came?" Arcturus asked, pulling her back from her rant.

"Of course," Callidora stated sharply.

Arcturus nodded as he quickly concluded she knew nothing more. Still, he had two squibs he could search for. That was much better than before but they could be anywhere in the muggle world. He'd have to find them and hope the girl hadn't married and the boy married young with a daughter at least somewhat close to Sirius's age.

It was far too much work with the time given. So it was at least a temporary dead end.

He shifted the conversation towards what Callidora expected, to the continuance of Black blood running House Longbottom. "Percival will have more than two children?"

"I have made it clear that the standard two children would not do...He is not aware of the situation but had placated me with my demands. I will continue to emphasize the issue if needed," she confirmed.

"Excellent," Arcturus agreed, "Perhaps, an alliance will be settled the old way. We will see…"

Her eyebrows rose in a moment of surprise. Arcturus didn't have any children to offer in a marriage contract, after all. She had no way to know that would change in the near future. Callidora was also entirely unaware that such a contract would never come about between the two Houses. Squibs might be magical but he had no interest in increasing the possibility of them in House Black after gaining the next generation. He had a limited agreement with Salazar Slytherin after all, and it did not include learning how to do these purification rituals.

oooP6ooo

(Harry)

Salazar paused as he overheard a familiar, severe voice arguing with the old bartender of the Leaky Cauldron. He caught Godric's sleeve and tilted his head toward the bar when he caught his brother's questioning gaze. Instead of heading out to Diagon Alley, the two founders quietly slipped through the overly crowded inn, past a couple of people staggering out of the fireplace in a puff of soot and green flames, and tucked themselves against a wooden post as the voice snapped.

"Everything points to the boy being upstairs this very moment!"

A group of old ladies parted revealing their dour potions professor all but snarling at old Tom. Everyone near them was very studiously avoiding the confrontation.

"Imma telling you, sir," Tom scowled back, showing off the mismatch of yellow teeth he still hung on to in his old age, "I don' go about telling strangers who I might be havin' or mightn' be havin' at this establishment but you'll not find a lad sitting about upstairs at this time of day when there's holiday fun to be had. And I don't bleeding care if you're his majesty's professor, you aren' related to the person you are looking for who might or mightn' be staying here, so you aren' hearing if they are here or not."

"The boy has been disowned, you blithering nincompoop! He doesn't have a family to be cared for so you will have to accept that other adults will have his care in mind and require his location," snarled Severus Snape.

Salazar's gaze swiveled from the rather strange confrontation to Godric. His brother had a very odd expression. It was definitely time to leave before they overheard Snape say something even more damning. He double-checked his hat was on properly before he tugged at Godric's sleeve to head toward the original destination but Godric didn't budge.

He glanced at his brother again and then back to the potion professor before he muttered, "Rie, the post office–"

"Our…marks are supposed to keep us from being tracked," Godric muttered back, "How did he track me to here?"

"Well," Salazar huffed, "Some invention created since we crafted the requirements of said tracking? We did leave the loophole for owls to find us too."

Godric blinked and looked to Salazar incredulously, "Wait you did?"

Salazar stared at his brother hard, brow furrowed as he tried to recall if he told Godric the details of the protection against tracking ritual. He couldn't recall such a conversation but he must have had it. "Yess…we needed to still receive those council missives Rowena said we'd get with Hogwarts becoming more and more popular."

"But…all the owls went to Rowena since she read them," Godric countered before his expression dropped, "Oh gods this is one of those things she complained we'd made her do for all of us and didn't want to always have to do. She spaced the part where we didn't know how to read the damn messages."

Salazar flicked his hands out to either side of him as he shrugged. It sounded like Rowena. All he knew was he had been planning the ritual for protection against being tracked and suddenly Rowena was in his face about owls being able to find them. One did not say no to the woman when she was like that. It was safer to just agree with whatever she was going off about and hope it wasn't going to lead to any maiming.

Old Tom's voice rose an octave from something Snape said, pulling their attention, "You're leaving my establishment sir!"

Snape flushed an ugly red but backed away as various wizards got up to help old Tom remove him from the pub if needed. The man ended up exiting through the door to muggle London.

"We should probably figure out where to go soon," Godric remarked after a long moment as the patrons of the bar area settled back to their drinks and food. "We can't stay here much longer. Especially if people are looking for me. And finding me."

Salazar sighed and rubbed at his neck, "Well we could…I don't know, see what Gringotts and the Archival can reveal to us. Between the two of us, there has to be some property we could crash at. Or I've the grove in Surrey. I should talk to my Aunt anyway."

Godric hummed and finally headed to the back door where the little alleyway played the part of a hidden doorway to Diagon Alley. He pulled his wand out and tapped the bricks once they made it outside before he noted, "We could just go back to Hogwarts too. It's not like we can't travel back and forth easily enough."

"True," Salazar agreed as the brick wall folded open before he countered, "but my vision did reveal the destroyed cottage…I think I should visit that at some point. I don't–I feel like there's a great deal to do here that would be easier if we stay. At least for a little while longer."

Gryffindor looked back at him thoughtfully but nodded. "I agree," he said softly before he set off into the throng of shoppers. Salazar kept pace and so barely caught Godric's next words, "Let's go to Gringotts after this then."

Salazar nodded but doubted his brother caught his response as they were separated in the mass of holiday shoppers.

The post office was by the main entrance of Gringotts. From the outside, its second story was clearly an owlery. A few owls sat on the overhanging roof about the door, hooting sleepily at the mass of magicals rushing about in near panic over the looming Christmas holiday.

Inside had a counter with scales to weigh packages and an entire back wall with many different-sized post boxes numbered and secured with locks. A line wrapped through the entire room and curved back towards the door Salazar and Godric had entered through.

Godric grumbled under his breath as he claimed their spot in the line. Salazar followed quietly, gaze lazily taking in all the various people and their stacks of packages some carried precariously and some floated at their side. The line shuffled along, prone to long pauses as the overworked postal workers tried to rush through all the requests but often, somehow, ended up in heated arguments with the various customers.—The common theme seemed to be the unlikelihood that any package sent today would make it to its destination in time for Christmas.

Salazar wasn't entirely clear why the various wizards and witches worried about timing didn't just drop it off themselves. Most of them had to be only an apparition or floo trip away, not that he could blame them for avoiding the floo as much as possible.

When they finally made it to the front, the postal office worker looked entirely frazzled and the line was starting to stretch out the door. An askew name tag announced he was a Nick.

"Good morning Nick," Salazar stated with a bright smile and chose to breezily ignore the unimpressed look he received in turn as he glanced at Godric.

Godric sighed before he explained what they actually needed, "We both need to open a postal box and send some letters."

The man pulled out a stone tablet and shoved it across the counter. "Place your wand at the center. It will identify if any existing postal box for your House or Familia or family has been set up and left dormant for one reason or other."

Salazar stared at Nick and then at the tablet and back. "Why would you have dormant postal boxes?"

Nick shrugged. "Used to be done when the family ceased paying for the service but still had mail. Law states we can't dispose of the stuff for seven years after the box is full or pay for upkeep isn't filled or if it's been set as dormant due to the death of the owner. With the various wars, some families died without clear inheritors so their post got set to dormant and have been locked up in a limbo of legal hell since. It's standard procedure to make certain no one's trying to avoid paying previous bills or missing out on their mail."

"Right," muttered Salazar as he reluctantly pulled his wand out and pressed the tip, and his magic, against the center of the tablet. It glowed green.

"You've a postal box already," Nick answered, suddenly looking interested. "We'll have to have you go through key collection and invoicing." He looked over to Godric. "How about you?"

Godric offered a strained smile as he pressed his wand to the tablet, coming to a clear conclusion that the stone confirmed as it glowed green once more.

"Bleedin…a twofor!" the postman laughed out in surprised delight. He tucked the tablet away and pulled out another item. It looked like a little box. "This is a key collection box. Please tap the top with your wand and then slid your wand hand into the box to collect your key."

The two founders did this in turn, each pulling out a similar-looking key from the box. The keys only difference was the numbers etched into their face. The worker held out his hand expectantly and Salazar and then Godric dropped their new keys onto his hand.

Nick happily set each key onto two separate pieces of parchment. Each key rested within an inked rectangle at the upper corner of the parchment. Key and parchment glowed blindingly for a moment.

Blinking the bright spots from his eyes, Salazar found both parchments were filled out with invoicing details. Their helper whistled at the numbers on both as he pushed the parchments forward to face Salazar and Godric.

"You," he stated to Salazar, "Have somehow filled our largest box to the brim, or near about. And done so within a decade! This invoice covers multiple upgrades, as any box filled to the brim is automatically upgraded to the next size up after we send out a warning and give thirty days to clear out some mail. Ongoing maintenance payments are set up with Gringotts directly so you've already paid for this coming year's use.—Legally, Gringotts doesn't accept change of payment without the payee, you, agreeing to the change. That's why this all hasn't been paid yet. All the upgrades have to be paid off."

He turned to Godric as he explained Godric's invoice, "You have a postal box that went dormant back in 1923. This invoice is a two-parter." He pointed to one section. "This is the cost of the maintenance since that lockdown. You can waive paying it but all content within the box will be disposed of. The second part is paying for the next years worth of maintenance if you want to keep the box open."

Salazar grimaced at the numbers and shared a look with Godric before he grouched out, "Fine. I'll be paying for all this–"

"Could we have new mirrored boxes, or recall any existing ones? And we need to update the magical signature to make certain all our mail is being directed correctly," Godric interrupted.

"Right, probably for the best. But we can't recall a mirror box," he explained before he pulled a heavy book out, and dropped it onto the counter with a bang—gaining a glare from his coworker as it shook the scales she was working with—and, turning Salazar's parchment about to read the postal box number correct, flipped through the book.

While Nick hunted down information, Godric quietly explained, "Gr–Augusta Longbottom has one of these. It looks like one of the smallest boxes on the wall but stand-a-lone–" He tilted his chin over at the wall of cubbies. "–The box allows you to access the mail from the postal box here. It notifies you when there's mail waiting for you too."

Salazar nodded in understanding. "It's going to take ages to go through all the mail."

Godric smirked as he noted with no little amount of glee, "This has to be where all your fan mail has gone off to."

The postal worker slammed the book closed and put it away before he announced to Salazar, "There wasn't one set up for yours. You both want one?"

"Yes." Salazar agreed, "And can we make certain all our mail will go to these boxes for now on? I've mail coming to me but clearly, some has been going to this too."

"'Course. Simple enough to handle. Though its standard practice to leave an exception for the Hogwarts letters at least. Kids like getting those direct," Nick said before he ducked behind the counter and lifted up two small wooden boxes with locked brass doors. Nick set each onto the invoices, which glowed in response as he explained, "These are upgraded versions of the box, since you've both large postal boxes that allow large packages to be stored. They will resize to allow access to those larger packages."

Salazar hummed in understanding and put each box, now engraved with the numbers of their postal boxes, into his satchel. Both Godric and he were directed to press some of their magic into little stone tablets to update the magical signatures tied to the postal boxes so all their mail would be sent to it.

Then Nick guided Salazar through signing a combined invoice which Gringotts would transfer the payment for with his magic imprint. (Salazar helpfully signed with an exaggeratedly large set of initials instead of his full name.) Then, separately because they all had forgotten until after the payment had been signed, Salazar handed over some knuts for a discounted payment for their letters to be posted within the same day.

Feeling slightly robbed, Salazar took a moment outside to stare up at the grey sky and ignore the even more ridiculously packed alley. If nothing else, he would always utilize Hedwig for his own letters going forward.

It felt like a good time for ice cream but they should probably visit the bank.

Godric nudged him with a shoulder and offered a quiet, "Thanks, Sally."

"Thank you for helping go through fan mail for the foreseeable future," Salazar answered with a toothy, slightly strained smile.

His brother snorted but nodded in agreement.

"Gringotts, Alfred's curses, or the Archival next?" Salazar asked.

Godric's gaze naturally turned to the bank a few feet away but the blond noted quietly, "It is open all hours, every day but Boxing Day. It might be better to go to the Archival first?"

"The Archival is supposed to be open at all times too though," Salazar countered.

The blond shrugged and, after a moment, headed for the bank. The brunet followed.

oooP7ooo

(Neville)

Gringotts was packed but surprisingly quiet. His new boots sang against the marble floor. Sally's was conspicuously silent. He shot a judging look his brother's way.

Sally rolled his eyes and took the lead to one of the slightly shorter, but still stupidly long, lines for tellers waiting in their high seats. Like the post office, it took ages of slow shuffling before they reach the front. There was considerably less arguing though. When they finally got to the front Godric coughed to pull the goblin's attention when Salazar just stood there and stared hard at the green creature.

The goblin ignored Godric for a good minute. When the being finally leaned over to look down its nose at the reincarnated founders, Godric barred his teeth almost as if giving a smile but never quite reaching that state.

The goblin's gaze narrowed. "What do you want?" It snapped

He meet the goblin's gaze firmly as he answered, "To claim the monetary assets of my House."

"Same for myself," Sally added, looking and sounding bored.

The teller's eyebrows shot up and it said, "We have not been informed of a House claiming, let alone two."

"It's called a private claiming," Godric drawled out, giving his best impression of Malfoy because why not. The goblin would probably believe the whole private part more if he acted like he had the money and connections to make it happen.

A snort escaped the goblin but it flicked his hand and another goblin stalked over. "Take them to Claimings," the teller ordered.

The new goblin and Godric shared a look at each other which involved Godric baring his teeth in imitation of a smile as the goblin raised a dismissive brow at the eleven-year-olds. There was probably some monetary penalty for wasting a goblin's time which was the only reason none of them had dismissed Sally and him so far. Jokes on them if that was the case.

Claimings ended up being an office down one of the many branching hallways from the main room. The hall and office had slightly lower ceilings but were still covered in marble and fine wood and very expensive crystals. Godric doubted the gold plating on the scones and doorknobs was fake either.

"Two for House Claiming," announced the goblin guide as they stepped up to a desk near the entrance of the office.

A long, green finger pushed spectacles up an equally long and crooked nose of the newest goblin.—Godric was beginning to suspect the goblins purposely avoided saying names to annoy their customers who tried to keep the lot straight.

He was just going to number them though. The goblins probably numbered their customers. Godric could imagine he was human-sucker number 20,453 for the holiday season set and ready to pay exorbitant fees for whatever service he "needed". Sally, being shorter, would have been noticed second so was 20,454.

Goblin number three looked through surprisingly thick spectacles over to Godric and Salazar. "Not heard of any recent claimings," she muttered—because this one was clearly female now that he had heard her speak. That meant the other two were definitely male, probably. Maybe. Physically, he didn't see much of a difference unless a long pointy nose was feminine for a goblin. It was the octave in the being's voice that hinted toward it. (It was a little comforting being able to think of goblin three as more than just a number, even if he did end up being entirely wrong.)

She stood up and waved at goblin two to leave as she stated, "No matter, this way young wizards. It is always exciting to see magicks rise up in search of a little chaos."

"Chaos," Godric couldn't help but repeat, his brows shot up in surprise at the statement.

"Oh yes," she rambled as she led them to the back of the office and began to dig through a cupboard, "Magicks like to mix things up but humans, particularly the politically inclined, fight tooth and nail to keep their preferred order of things. It's delicious to see her mess with everyone's plans in bringing a House forward to shit on treaties and alliances and all that rot." She looked back at them and took each of them in one at a time. Her gaze moved up and down their eleven-year-old forms thoughtfully.

"I see a shadow of chaos in your wake but a burning renewal glowing in your steps." She announced to Godric before she turned a glinting gaze to Salazar. "And you are the source of that shadow of chaos, though you may not create all the chaos yourself. You've been wrapped in lies and the truth of you will be chaos enough. The best form chaos can come in, I say."

She bared her sharp teeth into a grin. "It will be glorious. I'll have to stock up on fairy wings—have you had any? Addicting with some doxy wing powder dusted over it…though, that is poisonous for you…both things might be poisonous…" she muttered at the end as she pulled out a box, "Shouldn't recommend eating poisonous things to humans. Terrible precedence…"

Godric knew he was staring. He couldn't help it though. His interactions with goblins had been battles and brawls in pubs. This was new. He sort of liked her.

The goblin shuffled toward him, the box almost smacking into his chest. He quickly dodged out of her way and also followed after to a little table a few feet back towards the front.

She dropped the box with a bang and flipped the latch. The box flopped open, unfolding on all sides, and dangled off the edges of the small table. Sitting on a plush cushion was a well-polished perfectly round, and very shiny rock. Godric wanted to say it was a diamond but it was almost the size of his head so that seemed a tad obsessive.—But then again, goblins.

Sally made a slight noise at the sight.

"You," she ordered with a sharp finger pointed at Godric, "Press magic into it and we'll scry up a key or three. Then we'll do our little chaos child."

Godric glanced at Salazar and saw the interest gleaming in green eyes. He reached out and pressed his hand onto the ball while considering all the different things Salazar would love to use such a crystal for. Maybe he'd be able to craft entirely new wards for Hogwarts within the year instead of planning bandaids so he could rebuild it all properly, hopefully taking less than the thirteen years it had taken last time.

The goblin made an interesting sound as the orb took on an almost fiery glow. It crossed the founder's mind that maybe he should have used his wand as he meet the intent gaze of the matron. She didn't say anything but her interest was written across her wrinkled, leathery green face.

Sharp teeth gleamed as she barred her teeth into a faint grin. "Let's see then; move your hand." She made an intrigued noise as she looked into the crystal ball. Her nose almost stabbed into it before she jerked back and snapped her fingers then dropped her hand out, just over the crystal ball with its palm up.

A key popped into existence on her palm.

"Your vault key."

Godric took and turned it about in his hand. It had a decent weight for a little key but it still felt pretty anti-climatic.

She swept her hand across the crystal and Godric's magic dissipated into the air, heating the area around them. Her gaze turned to Salazar and she bared her teeth into a grin as she said, "Now your turn little chaos."

Salazar stepped up and copied Godric's actions by pressing his hand onto the crystal. The ball soon swirled with green and silver magic. Once it was filled, Sally removed his hand.

The goblin leaned in once more, her nose just on the edge of touching the ball. The green of Sally's magic glittered in her gaze as she stared into the ball and scryed away, seeing things neither founder could.

She stood upright with a deep frown. "Most strange, most odd…" Her gaze turned back to Salazar and gleamed with intense scrutiny. "You are of a House. There is no question. But you have no House vault to claim. At least, not one you do not already have the key for." She tilted her head thoughtfully.

Sally nodded but didn't look particularly worried at this new fact. Godric guessed it made sense. There wasn't any actual Pater of House Slytherin to set up a true Slytherin vault until now.

"But," she added, "There is another. It waits for you to reach an age you are not…and yet you are." The goblin seemed to debate with herself for a moment more before she snorted out a laugh and snapped her hand out and summoned a key similar to Godric's own. "Chaos child indeed."

Salazar hesitated for a long moment before he took the unexpected vault key.

"Right…" Godric said as he glanced between goblin and Sally. Definitely not broaching that topic. He asked instead, "Suppose I could get a lift to my vault without going back through a teller?"

She arched a brow at him as she dissipated Sally's magic from the ball. A burst of wind rippled across them, tugging at their clothing and hair. Godric had to grab the rim of his hat before it was sent flying. The goblin huffed as the wind ruffled stacks of parchment on various desks and grumbled, "You didn't request a vault visit from the teller before you came here so you'll have to return to the teller."

"Right, then…uh…Thanks."

Sally interrupted, "This didn't cost anything?"

"No," she grouched as she put the box back together around the crystal ball. "We're not allowed to keep you from claiming what's yours. You just have to be able to prove it's yours."

Godric grabbed Sally's sleeve and pulled his brother out the door. Clearly, the goblin was done with them. There was no waiting goblin in the hallway so he just retraced his steps to the main hall and stalked over to one of the lines once more. Eventually, they reached the teller and this one called on another goblin to take them to a rail cart, surprisingly giving the name Headcleave this time. (So maybe there wasn't a conspiracy around not giving names around here.)

A frankly nauseating ride later—Sally grinning through it only made it more nauseating—found Godric before a vault. Headcleave revealed multiple security measures in place beyond the key as he flicked his long nails through thin crevasses within the door's ornate design before taking the key and unlocking the door. Stale, compressed air buffeted Godric's clothes as the door opened. Godric pulled Sally along with a sharp look at the goblin. Headcleave shrugged, entirely uncaring.

Immediately before the door was a wall of glass cases filled with heavily decorated swords. It was resting against the vaults wall so was far enough away to take it in its entirety. Godric noticed two facts off the bat. None of the swords were practical, they were all ceremonial and reminded him of the sword in the painting that everyone seemed to think was a realistic representation of himself. The very center glass case was empty. It was a very prominent position. He had an uncomfortable idea about what sword was missing.

Salazar helpfully interrupted his thoughts with some other unpleasant news. "Those are definitely golden griffin statues."

Godric's head snapped about faster than the rest of his body as he twist around in horror at that statement. Salazar was standing before a literal life-size statue of a griffin. It was fucking gold with ruby eyes. It was huge. It was the most opulent thing he had ever seen. There were multiple rows of them. Every single one was different. All of them were gold and ruby. Some were replicates of the various species of griffins and others were heavily decorative versions with more than just rubies in the eyes.

"What. The. Fuck."

His brother's amusement faded as he turned from the statues and looked around. Godric turned to follow Salazar's gaze. He repeated himself as he took in the rest of the vault. "Fuck."

There was another wall of less decorative weapons and a stack of papers near the door. That was it. There was no money. Technically, he could probably melt a few statues down or pry a few rubies out of eye sockets but that was not practical. Godric had many questions for his dead descendants. They were filled with a few expletives at the moment so it was probably a good thing neither he nor Salazar could actually summon the dead so easily.

Godric took a breath, looked up at the ceiling, and then stomped over to the wall of weapons, starting with the first wall he had noticed since he figured he'd go through that one quickly. Sally followed along silently. Up close only confirmed his first impressions of all the weapons being ceremonial. Multiple swords had Gryffindor or his full name, Godric Gryffindor, engraved across the blade for some reason. None of them would be useful beyond potentially selling them to collectors for some actual money. The empty case had a plaque pronouncing the missing sword was his missing sword which was simply wonderful.

The other wall was better in practicality. Most of the weapons were short and long swords that they couldn't actually walk around with nowadays sadly. Halfway through the wall they finally found something they could potentially use: the smaller weapons. There were hatchets, knives, daggers, and magic-resizing swords of a variety.

"This is more like it." He breathed out before he picked up a blade and stated to Salazar, "Pick out what you want." Salazar hummed in interest as he picked up a dagger.

After a few minutes and multiple blades handled, Salazar remarked, "They all have a bit of magic in them. Most are ever-sharpening enchantments…" He paused as he picked up a matching set of long thin knives. "These will return to their sheaths after impact."

Godric pulled out a shorter seax. Its handle was decorative but had a good grip. "This one?"

Sally reached out and took it. His eyes seemed to glaze slightly before an almost unnoticeable head shake preceded his brother's words, "Ever-sharp and surprisingly spelled to handle very high heat. This might actually survive battle with you."

"Huh."

After a few more minutes of digging through the options, Godric found multiple older-style weapons—familiar-styled weapons—that could handle high heat. He took the first he had found along with a small, thin dagger that could be tucked into his boot or strapped to his ankle, and a longer knife that could be strapped to his waist, or arm. Salazar selected similar blades, including the small set that would return to their sheaths, and two to tuck into his boots.

They took a few minutes to secure their weapons, tucking them out of sight as best they could. A few runic arrays were added to some sheaths that helped the more obvious blades, like the ones secured to belts, from being noticed.

That left the stake of parchment. Godric wandered over frowned down at it, half expecting it to be bills or notice for paying the goblins for the vault or some ridiculous similar rubbish. It wasn't in the end.

It was contracts signed by the last Pater, the fifteen-year-old. The idiot boy had been hoodwinked. One contract had Liam Weasley buying the golden griffin statues. (Said contract implied he had been buying live ones and only said statue in one place in the entire contract, hence calling the boy an idiot.) Liam had also bought a chunk of land near Bath and then had another contract to place enchantments to make the land unplottable which was fan-fucking-tastic. (Godric looked forward to finding said land since its location was obscured on the contracts due to the unplottable enchantment clearly active on it.) Godric was also apparently the proud owner of a multi-century-long permit from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for owning and breeding multiple XXXX class magical animals. The last parchment was an updated payment plan for paying off the contracts.

Apparently, he must have some type of income every year. It just all got used up by December.

Godric stared at the last one for a long moment before he stuffed all the parchments at Sally and wandered back over to the statues Liam Weasley had been convinced would be living griffins. What did the fifteen-year-old think he'd do with that many living griffins?

"Well," Sally remarked as he joined him a few minutes later, "if anyone complains to me about Omorose having kittens every few years, you don't mind me saying she's yours, right?"

Godric snorted, startled out of his unpleasant thoughts. He looked at his brother. "What?"

Salazar pulled his hat off and ruffled his hair as he frowned at him. "Apparently you need a permit to breed kneazles now. I'm not breeding her. She just keeps showing up with kittens. And she's not really mine. I don't know what people think, claiming kneazles are anybodies. Everyone should be fully aware it's the other way around at this point…but apparently, the ministry would disagree and fine me."

A grin slowly spread at the purposely ridiculous direction Sally had pulled them in. "Fine, she's mine…Unless we find out the Potters happen to have paid for a multi-century animal breeding permit too."

"Bril." his brother answered with a return grin before he secured his hat back on his head.

The two glanced over his vault for another moment and then headed back out. Headcleave waited for them by the cart.

"To the next vault," grumbled the goblin, "Keep your arms within the cart at all times. This vault is deeper in and the tunnels are smaller."

The goblin wasn't lying. While the ride was no less obnoxiously fast, it was less horrifying as the rails zoomed about near the earth. When they reached Sally's vault, the goblin inserted the key into a hidden keyhole. Headcleave then undid a couple of further magical locks but not nearly as many as what has been on the Gryffindor vault.

Within was smaller than Godric's vault but it was also immediately clear it had more useful content. It was filled with piles of coins. Salazar pulled Godric in with him. It took only a moment to realize there was nothing but galleons and sickles and a stack of parchment within the vault.

Sally picked up the parchment and held it up so Godric could read it at the same time. It was a contract for the Harry Potter adventure books. Salazar flipped to the back and found it was signed by a Petunia Dursley, his Aunt.

"What the…" breathed out Salazar before he flipped back to the beginning.

It took a few minutes to figure it out, particularly since Salazar wasn't paying any attention to Godric reading over his shoulders anymore. But this was another contract that stank. Under normal circumstances, Salazar would have never seen the money. First, there was a clause tucked away that made it a legal requirement to obliviate anyone that wasn't the publisher or Harry Potter from knowledge of the contract. So Petunia Dursley had signed the contract and then got obliviated for doing so. The agreement gave them the right to publish the adventure books series throughout Sally's childhood and continue republishing the existing books of the series throughout his life after his majority. He received a small percentage of the sales during his childhood which entered this trust vault. That percentage tripled once he reached his majority and he could give permission for new books of the series to be created with that same larger percentage of sales included from the start. While trust vaults usually became normal vaults when a person reached their majority, his brother had to either become emancipated or have his guardian's permission before he was seventeen to gain access to the trust otherwise the trust reverted to the publishers when he turned seventeen.

The only reason Salazar had successfully gained the vault was because of the whole reincarnation business.

"I'm going to borrow Black's notary…and probably should find a lawyer," Salazar muttered.

"Why?"

Salazar flashed a dangerous smile. "Magic says I'm at least seventeen so they better give me the higher percentage and stop creating the books without my permission." He set the parchment back where it had sat on the floor. "Anyway, enough paperwork for today. Let's grab food and then see if we can't finish up clearing the curses off Alfred."

oooPooo

1. Salazar is wassailing Godric, which is a traditional drinking salute somewhat tied to Yule. People wassail—offer a wish for good health with a drink, often alcoholic, to another person—during Yule but people wassail when it's not Yule also. The cider they are drinking is likely entirely nonalcoholic here since it wouldn't be fermented as the cider they had back a thousand years ago but the cider a thousand years ago was likely only slightly alcoholic. Likely similar in alcoholic levels to Butterbeer in the story.

Also, someone asked about the Black family tree but not sure what happened to the comment. The family tree is just an expanded version of the canon tree with Arcturus Black in this story being Orion's father. Canon has him die in 1991 and that isn't happening due to Salazar bothering him which pushes him to give a damn and take his meds etc. There is a second Arcturus in the family tree who fathers Callidora and her sisters. He is this Arcuturus's uncle.

This expanded tree will be shared eventually on AO3 but it's going to be a while as it has slight spoilers.

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I am tentatively claiming I'm back to monthly updates but it's entirely possible I won't be able to keep it going beyond the next 3-4 months. We'll see how it goes.