Chapter Twenty-Eight
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(Salazar)
Soft gray twilight tinted freshly fallen snow blue through the window. Salazar dropped the curtain, glanced over at the softly snoring Godric, and headed silently for the door only to pause at the sight of a piece of folded parchment stuck to the wood at eye level. He tilted his head as he contemplated it for a long moment. Then he flicked a finger at it causing the folded side to float upright without him touching it.
It was a note from the old man that owned the pub and inn. He frowned at it in confusion as he reread it a few times. The words never changed. The parselmouth checked his hat on his head, and quietly slipped out the door.
Downstairs showed an almost deserted room. There were a couple of hags seated in a corner, a group of half-awake shop assistants Salazar had seen working in various stores in Diagon Alley over the summer, and a wealthy, older woman with streaks of silver through her blonde hair. He looked back through the room a second time before he turned to the bar and hunted down Tom the old bartender.
As soon as the old man reappeared from the back, Salazar demanded, "My aunt is here?"
Tom blinked owlishly before he huffed, "Use your eyes, lad." He waved his hand over to the wealthy older woman.
Salazar stared at Tom and recalled the fact that Tom didn't actually know who he was. He looked back over the woman with a faint frown. That was definitely not Aunt Petunia.
With nothing else to do about it, Salazar wandered over to the woman. She looked up and glanced disinterestedly at him before she returned to her drink, and—now that he was at the right angle to see it—her subtle watch on the stairs through a decidedly dirty mirror. Her hand reached up and played with a necklace. It drew Salazar's gaze. There was a pendant with a star-crowned dog hanging from the chain.
Clearly, Arcturus hadn't kept their meeting to himself. Salazar looked over the older woman in interest. She had silver-streaked blonde hair instead of Arcturus's salt and pepper hair that leaned more silver than black. Otherwise, they had similar eye colors and the same high cheekbones. They were likely of similar height too.
Salazar claimed the other chair at her table, drawing her startled gaze. His actions forced her attention. She pursed her lips together in displeasure.
The woman began to demand, "Wha–", but stopped herself and stared at him for a long, long moment. Salazar's eyebrows rose as he felt her magic surge and then her gaze softened to wonder. The woman had disrupted what little had remained of his hat's influence on her after he had forced her attention.
Impressive.
He'd have to think of how to fix the runic arrays so that wasn't an option.
She offered softly, "Fascinating magic…Arcturus showed me many intriguing things."
He hummed before he stated, "Aunt."
She blinked and then smiled. "Nephew, why don't I check you boys out and take you to breakfast? Never to sure who might be around, snooping over the residents here."
Salazar considered her for a moment longer before he offered a nod as he rose. If she could find them, others might so moving on from the inn was a valid point. Spying old Tom watching them curiously, Salazar stated louder and with a little too much cheer for the time of the morning, "We'll be down in a few!"
Tom snorted and muttered something about boys and sleep as Salazar ran past him and up the stairs.
As soon as the bedroom door closed, Salazar called out, pulling his hat off as he did so, "Godric, we're checking out." His brother continued to snore. Salazar picked up a pillow and threw it at Godric's face before he focused on pulling a few more layers of clothing on. Who knew where they were getting breakfast. It was best to look the part of her nephew and House Black seemed traditional enough he'd take Percy's distant remarks about layers seriously.
Godric snorted awake.
"It's very early to check out now, Master Salazar." complained Alfred from what felt like his permanent spot on the little table, "And what about my curses? Master Godric said there are four left. You two spent ages on that one yesterda–"
"It'll have to be later, Alfred," he said apologetically as he picked up his satchel and paused as he considered the absolute mess of things he had dumped out of it already, all the various things they had purchased—presents for Hogwarts and whatever Godric felt he needed—and huffed. There was no way he'd fit it all and much of it could be returned to Hogwarts. "Mipsy!"
His brother rolled up into a seated position. "Wha' now?"
Mipsy pop-clicked into the room. "Master Sally?" she asked, looking as confused as the rest of them.
Salazar explained, "A woman from House Black has found us. She's playing the part of our aunt and recommends we check out. As she found us, I imagine the recommendation reasonable." He glanced over at Godric and noted, "Though it's entirely possible she happened to send a letter and it's one of the few we took before locking the owls out and going to the post office. If that's the case we could stay but we had told Tom we were waiting for a relative to come to collect us."
Godric rubbed his face and tugged his hair to stick out at all ends. "Ugh. Fucking Blacks. Probably one of my letters." The blond waved his hand about as he yawned. "You-your magic sensitive feeling bollocks would have told you if she spelled a letter you grabbed yesterday."
He rolled his eyes and picked up the stack of letters addressed to Pater Gryffindor. He immediately found two letters in the pile with spells on them that went beyond the preservation of the parchment and/or ink. Pulling them out revealed one was actually addressed to Neville and the other was addressed to Pater Gryffindor.
"Tracking spells on these two. One's much more subtle than the other at least…You might want to read them before you burn them?" Salazar offered as he held them out to his brother.
While Godric grumbled under his breath but opened the two letters, Salazar turned to Mipsy. "Would you take most of this back to the suite? I don't really need to carry it everywhere if you or Olen can bring it when called. Uh–Leave the pranking material. I need to wrap those."
She nodded, "Of course Master Sally." Mipsy snapped her fingers and all the unnecessary items floated up into neat stacks before she pop-clicked out of there with it.
"This is from Snape. Its orders to meet him in Diagon Alley." Godric stated flatly before he lit the letter on fire and only little particles of ash soon remained. "The other is an invitation to breakfast from a Cassiopeia Black."
"I imagine that's who's downstairs then," Salazar remarked as he began to toss things into his bag. He wasn't entirely certain where some of the stuff came from. Organizing it would have to wait until later.
Mipsy reappeared with Olen. The two elves took one look at what Salazar was doing and shared a look of odd agreement. Mipsy claimed the satchel and pushed Salazar into a chair as Olen cast some elf magic that had everything float out of the bag to resorted mid-air before it floated, folded and nicely stacked, back into the bag.
A teacup appeared in the air before Salazar—a clear statement of what he was supposed to do while everything was sorted and packed properly. Godric quietly claimed a seat and another teacup appeared before him. The two founders glanced over the floating purchases and clothes and random junk they had somehow collected over the three days they had been at the inn and shared a look, silently agreeing to follow their House elve's orders.
Godric stated to Alfred once he was properly awake, "Afraid you'll have to go back to the old man."
Alfred grumbled in clear annoyance. "And what if he takes a look over me while I'm there?"
"Does he look over your curses over the Winter holidays?" Salazar asked in interest. Any hint of a routine for when the headmaster checked on Alfred and the wards mess of magic would be handy to know.
The leather hat slumped and groused out, "Nooo—I want to go with you, Master Godric! I am your hat, not that-that thing!"
Godric paused, having picked up said red hat to put on, and looked down at it with a slight frown.
"Alfred is not spelled to hide you from people that might recognize you." Salazar warned, "nor is he spelled to hide himself from everyone he has ever sorted."
His brother made a face and put the hat on, "Alfred I'll take you out on a shopping trip as soon as it doesn't cause mass panic."
"I be taking him back to his shelf then, Master Rie," announced Olen.
The House elf's announcement pulled their attention to the fact that the room was sparkling clean. Salazar's satchel was even oiled.
Mipsy handed over Salazar's bag as she stated, "You be going now."
Once the two House elves, with the Sorting Hat in toll, pop-clicked away Godric asked, "Where are we going to stay then?"
"We," Salazar decided, "are going to cadge breakfast off House Black, grab food at the market…I don't know, go to the archival, and then figure that out…I've my Surrey grove."
Godric frowned but didn't decline the idea of the little grove.
The two said nothing when they stepped down into the pub and saw the blonde woman paying for their stay. There were so many reasons she might be doing that. She might even be using the money House Black had agreed to pay him, not that he'd agree with that if that was the route she wanted to go. It could even be old Tom assuming she'd pay since they had claimed a relative would be by to collect them at some point when they had first checked in.
She smiled at Salazar, his hat's magic still not working on her, as she put her wallet back into her voluminous robe's pockets and walked over to them. Her gaze flicked over Godric and slid away disinterestedly. The woman claimed Salazar's arm and announced, "I've reservations at the Black Dog Tavern….Where's our Gryffindor?"
"Your Gryffindor?" Godric grumbled.
His brother's grumble pulled her gaze but it drifted back to Salazar, the red hat's magic keeping her from paying Godric's words any thought.
"Your hat," he reminded Godric.
The Black woman's gaze jumped between them. Understanding flickered and faded as the magic forced her to not think anything about Godric. She frowned and Salazar had a feeling she was working up to breaking through as she had done with his hat but then Godric huffed and stomped out to the back alley before she could properly do so.
Salazar pulled her along even as she gave mild protest at them missing their third party, all the while she kept a pleasant smile on her face for the various people watching. Once the door closed behind them and it was clear there was no one else in the alleyway, Godric pulled his hat off for a moment and flicked it back on his head as he nodded to the woman.
A more vicious smile spread across the woman's face as she announced with an undeniably pleased note in her voice. "I have so many questions for you gentlemen."
"I can imagine," Salazar stated dryly, "I've one at the moment."
She raised a brow. "Oh?"
"Who are you?"
A cackling laugh burst out of her. "Oh dear." she gasped out, "Oh…" The woman let Salazar go and stepped away from them both to dip into a curtsy, "Cassiopeia Black at your service Paters." Her lips curved into a teasing grin. "You may call me Auntie Cassie if you like."
"Well aunt," Godric drawled, "You've woken me up for breakfast and I'm starving."
Cassiopeia gave a softer laugh. "Well, I really do have set reservations. You'd be surprised by how many people like going out for breakfast today. Most everywhere is closed for Christmas Eve and Day. What's not, is closed for Boxing day. Today is a day of eating out."
The Black Dog Tavern was situated in the same courtyard as Florean's ice cream parlor. Its facade looked like every other English pub out there with black and gold as its predominant colors. The windows were tinted, or spelled, to keep people from seeing inside.
Its interior was just as classic as the outside with dark leather, wood, and dim lighting. Paintings and plaques covered the walls. The portraits were all of dogs. Landscapes had dogs passing through (most hunting some prey). Most of the plaques, also dog-themed, were written in English or Old English, or even a play on Old English. Some were in Old French, too. The majority of visible bottles at the bar had some form of dog theme even.
It was a little too on the nose but somehow felt both classy and homey. Salazar was tempted to blame enchantments that influence guests to feel that way but wasn't able to pinpoint feeling any of that type of magic.
Salazar considered asking what her plan had been if they hadn't woken up in time but it became clear that her form of reservation was very different from the normal. The Black Dog Tavern wasowned by House Black. She had reserved a private room for them to use and the only reason to show up sooner than later was so it would become available to actual paying customers at some point.
An older man stood as host and didn't even ask her name when they first came in. He took one glance up from preparing for the day and immediately dropped what he was doing to guide them upstairs to a private room. Cassiopeia was a striking woman but not that striking. She had to be well known to the man, which meant she came here fairly often.
The private room was large enough for a banquet for at least thirty people. All the large room held was a table for four under a large window that overlooked the square.
"Expecting another?" Salazar asked with a nod at the empty seat once they settled at the table and the door was closed.
Cassiopeia shrugged elegantly as she flipped the menu over. "Family, dear. We must find an appropriate squib after all."
Salazar ignored Godric's questioning look. He may have forgotten to share the actual contract details beyond Godric's tuition being paid. "I see. You're looking into this quickly."
An eyebrow rose and he could see her judgment over that bland statement. She clearly knew he was aware of the potential time restraint. Arcturus Black was not in good health.
"So why search us out if you haven't gotten everything together yet?" Godric asked.
Her overly pleased smile returned. "Who wouldn't?"
"I can think of multiple people," Salazar countered, mind jumping to all the people that would likely attempt to kill him instead of coercing him to breakfast.
Cassiopeia waved her hand through the air as if to slap that statement away. "Only ignorant fools with no idea what has been forgotten over the centuries," she sniffed out. Her light blue eyes sharpened onto Salazar and she leaned toward him as she spoke, "Like creating rituals. How many have you crafted over the years?"
"Why would you think I've crafted any?" Salazar countered.
Godric snorted at the same time she rolled her eyes.
"Arcturus allowed me to view the meeting via pensieve." She answered.
Salazar sighed, leaned back, and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Of course he did…Craft or alter the ritual and then use it on myself?"
"Let's just leave it at too many to bother counting," Godric intervened, "Are we ordering food?"
"Too many to count?" she muttered, eyes gleaming with intent interest but she accepted Godric's unsubtle request to change the subject and pulled her wand out. "Here we've charmed the menus so you can order with a tap of the wand." She tapped a few items on the menu before she flipped it over and tapped once more.
Salazar took proper stock of the offerings and found it an interesting blend of the classic breakfast and, by the names, a shortlist of French bread and pastries with a longer list of marmalades and other potential toppings. He glanced up to meet Godric's eyes and pulled his wand out. Godric rolled his eyes but followed suit. Out of curiosity, he selected one of the French options. On the other side of the menu were the drinks, which took only a moment to find the tea selection.
Once he set the menu back down, it floated up and popped out of existence. A moment later the food appeared before each of them. Salazar slathered butter across one-half of the toasted baguette. The smell of freshly baked bread floated around them as the others had also picked similar options—Godric with eggs to create a sandwich and Cassiopeia with a fruit-covered yogurt. It was far too early for anything heavier.
After a few minutes of quiet eating and the clinking of cutlery, Cassiopeia Black finally stated why she had searched for them. "I have pursued spell crafting since I graduated from Hogwarts. I would make a more informal deal–" She paused to look from Salazar to Godric. "–with both of you. An exchange of knowledge, specifically. I would enjoy learning of ritual craft as it correlates to my research in fascinating ways but it isn't the only avenue I would like to explore with the opportunity present here." She tapped her spoon against the yogurt bowl as she scooped more. She asked, "You're thoughts, gentlemen?", and then claimed her spoonful.
"Spellcraft," Godric mused, "Is a wide-ranging subject. What is your primary focus?"
She lit up with a vibrant smile. "I'm part of the Global Association of Spellcraft and am brought into a variety of projects but my pet project is a recreation of ancient time warcraft. My most recent research points towards some of the biblical plagues of Egypt having magical origins…or at the very least were mimicked for siege warfare, for instance."
"The death of the firstborn sons is a ritual," Godric stated as he looked to Salazar, "You know the one Paphnutius taught you."
Salazar tilted his head as he considered that. "I suppose it could be altered to kill firstborns and people by sex but it seems like a poor choice. Terribly broad."
"The story says firstborn males of both humans and cattle," Cassiopeia explained, "Is that not specific enough?"
"Multiple species? That extends the target of the ritual, not making it more specific." Salazar said in confusion as he considered the possibility, "Simple enough to include blood of both species I suppose…What is its limit? Do only males that have younger brothers die? Or all males that have no older brother? Is that the only qualification because I imagine a huge number of males died."
Cassiopeia pulled out a notebook and asked, "Do rituals require such specifics?"
"Varies by ritual." Salazar answered before he added, "If we are exchanging information, We have a few simple questions for you. Ones I imagine we could find answers elsewhere but well…"
"I'm here and willing," she finished his statement with a nod as she scribbled away at her parchment. After a moment she looked back up and nodded at him. "Your questions?" She glanced over at Godric to include him.
Godric started, "So apparently you tracked me down?"
She smirked at Godric as she answered, "Once you stay at a place for a few days your magic marks it as your 'home' that the postal enchantments on the owls pick up on which allows them to reach you. I sent out owls the instance I could. Add a simple, though illegal, mail-tracking spell and they all led me to the Leaky Cauldron at first. One stayed."
His brother huffed in amusement and glanced over at him, "Of course, it was going to be owls."
Cassiopeia nodded though looked a little lost on why Godric was so amused, "Setting up the postal box is the primary way to block tracking so you should be set.–" At Godric's frown she expectorated. "–My owls all dropped the rest of my letters off at the post office so I know you've set up a postal box. The ministry and anyone else tracking their mail to you will know. Standard procedure for the post office is to nullify all tracking charms from the post before passing it to the owner. So we all know Pater Gryffindor and Slytherin now have postal boxes and we won't be able to track you the normal way. Of course–" She smirked at Godric. "–there are illegal spells and potions to enhance an owl that can supersede the redirection magic of a postal box."
She glanced over at Salazar to include him as she added, "There are some items you could purchase that can enforce redirection magic of a postal box or set a general block which may supersede those illegal spells.–" She tapped at her pendant with a dark red nail as she said, "–I have a few I've enchantment myself…There are also charms you can cast onto yourself every morning.—A bit of a bother, though.—None of these are perfect solutions but they should do the trick for the majority." Cassiopeia paused thoughtfully and glanced back to Salazar.
"Wonderful," grumbled Godric.
"Oh, you'll be fine," she offered, "No one's going to bother with that level of illegal tracking for you yet. They'll see if you paters will respond to your post and show up at the Council meetings first. Eventually, though..."
Godric hummed, his expression turned thoughtful.
"Your other question?" the witch asked, her gaze jumping from Godric to Salazar and back to see who would ask.
"How do I reach my parent's cottage…It's some type of monument so the floo must be set up nearby?" Salazar asked.
Cassiopeia turned solemn as she turned bodily toward him. Her gaze searched his expression but Salazar didn't think she would find whatever she was looking for. He had his thoughts on Lily and James Potter but he didn't have any extreme emotional connection to either. He kept himself from touching the wedding rings hidden under his clothing—the could-have-been lingered and the idea of loving parents that actually had the chance to raise him was more nostalgic than tragic.
She opened her mouth to answer but paused and twisted about to look at Godric again. When she turned back to Salazar she had shifted back to see both founders and had lost the solemn expression. Instead, she looked a little bewildered as she finally answered, "It's located in Godric's Hollow, renamed at some point once it was determined to be Godric Gryffindor's home village…which may or may not be true. Though, the old Gryffindor manor is around there somewhere." She looked over to Godric. "Interested minds would love confirmation."
Godric raised a brow. "Do you think it'll be recognizable after a thousand years?"
The witch shrugged. "Hogwarts is on some level, isn't it?"
His brother gave a slight nod in concession.
"So, West Country," Salazar mused.
She nodded, "You can reach the one public floo entrance via the passphrase Godric's Hollow. It's not a large village. You'll be able to find the cottage easily enough…Your…Lily and James Potter are buried in the local graveyard."
"Odd place to bury modern-day magicals," Godric remarked, "A church graveyard implies they followed that religion.—If it's my childhood village…and it particularly unchanged, that's the only public graveyard, and only magicals buried there were ones that did follow the religion, even if only for dealing with the non-magical community."
Cassiopeia delicately wrinkled her nose as she stated diplomatically, "Muggleborns bring their own religion with them and we don't have any ritualistic religious gatherings. There is the philosophical question of if Magic is alive and if the old name of Mother Magic fits but…well…rituals are primarily illegal. Many stopped doing anything that looked like a ritual centuries ago. Anything that leans religious now is done in private and kept quiet….or well…The Neo-Druid political party extremists like to, uh, push the boundaries, I hear. But I've never been to any of their parties."
Salazar couldn't help his snort at that. "Of coursse." He shook his head and took a moment to cut the second half of his baguette into pieces to slather with the various marmalades he had decided to try. An oddly balanced tart-sweetness of drigible plums filled his mouth as he firmly set aside all the ridiculous ways the illegalization of most rituals had affected the Isles. He most definitely didn't try to imagine what a neo-druid was supposed to be.
Godric redirected the conversation back to the point as he asked, "If the village has been renamed after me, are there any actual muggles there?"
"Ah, yes there are…You'll find most rural towns have a few magical families living on the outskirts…and, oh…we've often a different name for the town than muggles. Of course, rural isn't very rural when you have the floo system and know how to apparate—or even use the knight bus. And less populated areas are easier to avoid detection with less of an actual need to hide. The only full magical town is Hogsmeade, though. And that's due to it being hidden within your–" Cassiopeia turned her intent gaze fully towards Salazar. "–magnificent wards."
"So," Godric interrupted her obvious segway towards demanding even more knowledge from them. Salazar was silently thankful because he had no idea where to even begin with all the various interests. She wasn't an eleven-year-old that needed to start from the beginning but she also was unlikely to know much of the basics for the specific topics of interest. "If we visit Godric Hollow, we should expect to come across others that might know us? From school or whatnot?"
She shrugged and said, "Entirely possible," before she took a sip of her coffee.
Godric hummed with a faint, thoughtful frown as he turned back to his food.
Salazar sipped at his tea as he considered if there was anything else pressing to ask about. He couldn't think of any he wanted to bring up to a lady of House Black. He hummed as he tried a Hathor golden fig marmalade, something he hadn't tasted since his visit to Eygpt in his past life.
Cassiopeia tapped her teaspoon thrice against the rim of her mug and sighed in pleasure when the smell of fresh coffee filled the air as steam began to rise from her mug once more. "Did either of you need more food?"
At the negative shakes of their head, she pushed her plate to the center of the table where it vanished. Godric did the same—both sending his plate away and refilling his cup with three taps of the spoon. The parselmouth pilled on the rest of his fig marmalade on the tiny piece of bread left and popped it into his mouth before he followed suit.
Black flipped her notebook open so both sides laid flat, ready for notes. She leaned back and set her pen to the parchment before she glanced between the two. "My turn then. I would like to understand the ritual we will be completing to impregnate a squib with the next Heir Black. Sirius may be a fool and a criminal but he is still kin. I wouldn't have him unduly harmed or humiliated."
"I haven't crafted it yet," Salazar said.
"No time like now!" she cheerfully noted.
Salazar raised an eyebrow at that.
Godric stated, "Sounds like we could use one of the fertility rituals as a base. The point is for a child to be conceived so including magic to increase the likelihood would be only to our advantage here."
"We'd have to create two versions…or perhaps layers to the ritual. Including a fertility aspect will increase the likelihood of multiple children and no matter the agreement Pater Black comes to with the woman, I'll not force her into a situation that may endanger her life more than pregnancy would in general." Salazar countered. He pulled out a notebook for Godric and him from his satchel and began to scribble out the possible fertility rituals before he frowned and shook his head. "Many are also religious leaning. There can be issues using any that require a strong sense of belief in the god it is tied to."
His brother nodded before he offered, "Tie it to the seasons then. Spring is always the most fertile-"
Cassiopeia interrupted, "We are hoping to complete this before the end of the holiday. The meeting with Sirius will be easy enough to set up. It's finding the squib that may take longer than we want."
"So no tying to the season and no particular underlying religious aspects. It'll have to be from scratch," muttered Salazar as Godric nodded.
Cassiopeia Black looked in wonder at them both but offered a faint smile at his attention. "How does one craft a ritual from scratch?"
Salazar hummed as he considered the place to begin. "Rituals can be crafted from nearly every area of magical study. The very wand movements and words that cast Latin-based spells are simple rituals. So, in a way, you have been crafting rituals all along with your spellcraft work….We need to decide the best form the ritual must take and often the first step is to consider the components and desired outcome. We have two people, a male and a female, and we want to have the female conceive the male's child but not have to go through the actual physical act of sex due to the environment the male is stuck in…amongst other reasons."
"I imagine the room you'll have will be restrictive also," Godric added, "Even if it's not, better to assume you'll have limited space and time."
Salazar nodded in agreement. "My specialty is runic-based rituals so I'd lean in that direction. That there is a physical quality transferred from one person to another requires a physical connection—not literal skin contact, though that could be the best route…hmmm…As the entire process is for reproduction, utilizing nature would be logical, even if we cannot include the season…"
He turned to his notebook and returned to scribbling notes as he muttered, "Perhaps a birch rode? Elm could help stabilize…Fir would boost her health for the birthing…but would it do anything useful at the very onset?"
"We've lost him," Godric stated cheerfully, voice sounding a little distant, "Give him a few minutes."
Hawthorn was also tied to fertility and gave a protective quality to the mix of magic. Willow could be a good option also. Of course, too many woods involved would potentially cause a mixing of qualities. A runic matric focused to enhance the specific qualities needed while dulling the undesirable ones could be included but could also overcomplicate the ritual.
Simplicity was key to most successful rituals.
It would be best to have the two involved in the ritual select the woods they are drawn to but that wouldn't be possible with Sirius Black. Perhaps if a group of Blacks were to show what woods they were tied to and there was a common element?
Dogwood.—Salazar blinked down at his scribble of notes. House Black's totem was clearly a dog of some type. Dogwood would be the wood they all were drawn to. He would confirm it, of course, but it felt right. Salazar doubted he was wrong. Some connections to woods were just obvious.
He frowned as he considered dogwood itself.
That wasn't the best wood for this type of ritual but he couldn't think of anything particularly negative about using it either. The ritual would end up noisy at the very least, though. So they would need a silencing barrier before the ritual was completed.
Perhaps he could craft a rod with a center of birch for reproduction wrapped in dogwood and whatever wood the woman connected best with. If he engraved the actual runic ritual across its surface, he could contain the ritual within a physically small space and skip any need cleanse the area and to draw the ritual out, saving time. Making it long enough to have handles on either side would give the physical connection between the two. The wood likely would not survive the influx of magic without a magical core but he wasn't crafting a long-lasting wand, just a rod for a single job.
The use of three would represent the triadic connection of two becoming one in the literal aspect of their magics and physical qualities combining into a new person, and the more spiritual concept of the mind, magic, and soul of two people coming together to make another. Two people, and a wood connected to each, literally represented the binary required for reproduction. Twining the two woods around another wood for fertility would enhance the ritual's purpose and represent the primordial unit of a beginning.
He sat back and picked up his cup of tea. Cassiopeia was staring at his notes. "Yes?"
She scooted her chair closer and leaned in. "Arthimancy is used to determine the structure of…non-spell casting rituals? Repetition of important numbers enhances the qualities the number is tied to so you have three woods–" She reached out and traced his sketch of the rod. (It wasn't particularly good but he had drawn it without much thought.) "–and two people to lead to a baby. Wouldn't we want to increase the connections by repeating three and two centered around one multiple times?"
"That can generally be a good idea," Salazar agreed. He flipped to the next page and readied his pen, "The runic design will likely repeat those numbers in its elements."
Godric moved seats so he was seated across from Cassiopeia and closer to Salazar. "A layered ritual would make the most sense, wouldn't it? Three or four layers."
Salazar hummed in thought. "A layer for reproduction. Another to magically connect the reproductive…" His lips quirked up in amusement as he decided to say, "material from the participants. A final layer to ground it all into the physical world—or womb in this case…And an optional fourth if the woman agrees to magically enhancing the fertility of the moment."
The three leaned in together as Salazar continued to work out the ritual. Godric threw out ideas and countered some of the runes Salazar thought to use. Cassiopeia made a million notes in her own book, most of which looked to be more questions. Time flew by and the ritual took its form.
A knock yanked the three from their conversation. The three shared a look. Cassiopeia looked the most displeased by the interruption. Godric flipped his own notebook closed and passed it to Salazar. He took the hint and put both their notebooks away. The witch grumbled to herself but also snapped her book closed.
"Yes," Cassiopeia called out, surprisingly keeping any hint of irritation from her voice.
The door opened to reveal the host from earlier. He gave a pronounced nod at Cassiopeia, "Narcissa Malfoy is here for brunch, ma'am."
A blonde woman similar to Cassiopeia, but much younger looking, gilded in.
"Auntie," she called out but paused with whatever she had planned to say at the sight of Salazar and Godric. Her pale gaze swept over them and caught on the runic scar on Salazar's head.
At some point, he had tugged his hat off. It wasn't unusual for him to tug his fingers through his hair when working something so in-depth out. He should probably work on not doing that in public areas…not that he'd usually work on a ritual in such a setting.
"Mr. Potter," Narcissa Malfoy stated before her gaze turned to Godric, who had also removed his hat during the brainstorming. "And…Neville." She snapped her gaze back to Cassiopeia, confusion clear before she smoothed her expression. "Draco is most distraught with himself. He realized he never gave the invitation to you before the holidays started. He had convinced Lucius to let him give it to you personally." Her lips quirked into a faint smile as she opened a clutch with a pop and pulled out a very fancy-looking card. "He'll be thrilled to know I could pass you an invite in his stead."
Salazar stared for a sharp second—Hannah and Susan had been allowed to invite him directly due to being related. Draco doing so was something entirely different.
Cassiopeia rose and swept over to her niece. "Now this is a rather bold move on Lucius's part," she announced as she plucked the invite from Narcissa's hand. Cassiopeia waved it at her face and glanced back at Salazar.
"Draco–"
"Don't be dull." Cassiopeia snapped back. The two women shared looks before Cassiopeia smiled at the room in general and announced as she took Narcissa's clutch and tucked the invite back into it, "Mr. Potter will be my plus one this year, my dear. I'm certain his…guardian will be comfortable with that. And Draco will have his friend there then."
Narcissa slowly nodded. "I look forward to seeing you both at the ball. Draco will be thrilled."
"Thank you for the invite," Salazar offered as he and Godric rose. Their cups vanished from the table and new settings for the two ladies appeared.
Cassiopeia beamed over at them, "I'll owl you details Mr. Potter. You'll have to dance with me at least once as my plus one and will have to look the part of your position."
"Yes, of course. And thank you for breakfast," Salazar offered as he swung his satchel over a shoulder and picked up his hat. Godric quietly thanked her also. They both pulled their hats on as soon as they stepped outside the room.
Once outside, the two shared a look. There was no way this breakfast was going to stay between House Black and them. Narcissa Malfoy would tell her husband and son, and Draco would gossip about it. It was only the question of whether adults would hear about it or only their class peers. And then there was the Ball.
At the steps of the tavern, Salazar tugged at his hat as he stared out into the mass of people rushing about for last-minute Christmas items.
Godric spoke up quietly, "You might owe her one."
Salazar looked over to the blond. His brother stared out over the packed street, his hands tucked into robe pockets and a frown across his face. The parselmouth guessed, "Politics?"
"The Malfoys could have made you an honored guest at the Ball if you had been directly invited. Everyone would have known you were there." Godric looked over at Salazar. "You would have been implied as tied to the Malfoys politically, at least a little, even with your young age. As a plus one, you are an anonymous guest. You'll have to work with Cassiopeia to have your robes match with hers and she's implied you'll have to dress your true station, which makes sense. People will eventually know you were what you are when this Ball happened. She'll probably help also hide the fact that you're you too. At least hide the scar. The Malfoys can't announce your presence there with you being a plus one so cutting down how many people might recognize you would be good."
Salazar nodded. "I see." he sighed. "Well, I imagine more days trading knowledge."
"True," Godric agreed with a faint grin, "She does seem like a decent sort to have on our side…There's potential here. Never thought I'd say that with the Blœc House."
He grinned. "I can imagine. Let's run through the marketplace for food…Then to my parent's cottage?"
"If we can find my family manor, we should have a place to sleep tonight." Godric said with a nod, though he was frowning at the insane mass of people rushing about, "It should have a working kitchen or space for a campfire at the very least."
Salazar led the way through the throng of people. This time Godric attempted to stay close and they mostly succeeded. He nudge Godric and pointed out the Drunken Unicorn pub before leading the rest of the way to the marketplace.
At the sight of the expansion enchantments, his brother shook his head in clear disgruntlement but didn't remark on the potential idiocy that had Salazar panicking originally. It made Salazar wonder what other insane things were no longer considered dangerous and stupid that was commonplace within the magical community Godric was already aware of.
The two wandered through the packed marketplace and happily ignored the almost panicking adults about them. Christmas Eve was tomorrow. Salazar supposed they could continue with their Yule celebrations with a proper meal but didn't particularly care about fighting for any of the specific cuts of meat or other "holiday" must-haves. They ended up focusing on seafood, though Godric vanished into a line for lamb shanks too. By the time they made it through most of the market, they had collected enough food for the rest of their holiday. Some of it might be a little interesting to cook if they had to use a campfire but it would all be doable.
As they reached the sweets section, Salazar felt the brush of a familiar mind against his own, having expected the very light touch. Granny materialized before him a moment later. The magic of their hats did nothing to hide their minds from her. It was something he should consider altering in case others were as proficient with legilimency.—He had never met someone that could just sense people's minds without any type of eye or physical contact though. He suspected hiding their minds would only lead to some serious questions from Granny.
"Honey, youse look like youse could use a sufganiyah." She announced as soon as she spotted them. Salazar turned toward her and he could spy Godric confusedly following. Her gaze drifted to Godric as his brother stepped closer. She smiled warmly at him, clearly realizing they were there together and added, "Youse too."
"Thank you, ma'am," Salazar offered, "We can pay for them."
"Nonsense, Hanukkah's passed but youse gotta have at least one sufganiyah," she said as she waved off his offer, "All youse poor souls stuck up in that castle during it need at least one."
The elderly woman led them to the bakery with pastries shaped like magical creatures. She snagged what appeared to be deep-fried donuts and handed one to each of them.
It was warm and covered in a fine dusting of powdered sugar. He took a bite of the pillowy donut. Flavorful jam coated his mouth. He couldn't help the hum escape at the tasty treat.
When he finished the first bite, Salazar said, "Was anyone allowed home to celebrate?"
Granny reached out and tugged his hat off to pull at a strand of his hair, clearly in an attempt to give it a little order as she shrugged. "Nah, it's been brought up to the governors every year for centuries now but we all know it's a sacrifice for the schooling. The older children are guided through how to celebrate with the younger children at the school itself at least. Sometimes there's a professor that can lead it instead." Her gaze turned to Godric. "Now who's this fine, young fella?"
"I'm Neville," Godric offered with a lopsided smile, clearly amused with how she was treating Salazar, and pulled his hat off for the moment, being polite even though she likely didn't care either way.
"Harry?!"
Salazar turned, donut in mouth. Anthony Goldstein gawked at him. The boy's gaze jumped to Godric and seemed to bug out.
"Long–Neville…uh, hey," stuttered the boy.
"Anthony, honey, youse friends with Harry and Neville?" Granny asked, pleased even as she reached out and tugged at another errant strand of Salazar's hair.
"Uh, yea," Anthony said, eyes twitching over to stare at her as she worked to straighten Salazar's hair and then back onto Godric, "I mean, yes. Harry and I sit together during defense…and…uh…Neville and I have studied together."
Their fellow eleven-year-old seemed to finally collect himself and successfully avoided announcing to the world that Godric was the Neville once of Longbottom. Anthony turned to Granny and added, waving from her to them. "This is my Aunt Queenie Kowalski, guys."
"We've met," Salazar said even though her comfortably messing with his hair should have made that very clear, "Though Aunt seems more appropriate than granny."
Anthony blinked owllike at him as he slowly said, "Uh, yeah, I suppose…She's a cousin however many times removed, technically."
Godric snorted.
Granny set Salazar's hat back on his head and clapped her hands as she ignored Anthony's latest remark and said, terribly pleased, "Oh my boys are friends, helping each other study and all. This calls for strudel," she announced before she vanished into the back of the bakery stall.
Salazar straightened out his hat as he watched her vanish before he turned to the Ravenclaw. Godric put his hat back on also, his gaze swiveled over the place in search of anyone staring. Salazar left Godric to it and raised an eyebrow in silent question at Anthony.
Anthony shook his head with a fond smile, his gaze following his "aunt" as she vanished into the back of the bakery stale. "Everything calls for strudel," he said softly before he turned to them, saw Salazar's questioning look, and said louder, "You don't have to take it if you don't want it."
"Her strudel is very good," Salazar offered with a faint shrug, unable to decline the free food if she wanted to give it to him.
That startled a laugh from the Ravenclaw. "I should have known you've had some already. It's uncle…well, cousin Mattie that bakes it all now. Aunt Queenie doesn't do any baking…not at the bakery. She just had the–" His voice took in a faint, and probably inaccurate, American accent. (It sounded vaguely like Queenie at least.) "–smarts to marry an excellent baker and businessman."
His smile faded a moment later and the boy glanced at the adults. Seeing they were distracted, he looked back to the founders. His gaze jumped from Salazar to Godric and back before settling on Godric. "Are you…are you ok, Nev?"
Godric straightened at the realization he was being addressed instead of Salazar. His attention turned from the marketplace to the brown-haired boy. Most of the time, Godric had been Salazar's tag-along, ignored by their fellow eleven-year-olds outside of the odd study groups. It was nice to see someone besides Hermione, and occasionally Hannah, focus on his brother.
"I'm…" An odd expression flickered across Godric's face and he shook himself slightly. Salazar frowned. His brother said, "I'm doing…decent, all things considered."
Anthony frowned but nodded. Silence stretched between the three before the Ravenclaw broke it. "I…Will you be going to Hogwarts still?"
"Yes," Godric answered.
The boy looked relieved.
"Here we are," Queenie announced as she returned with a surprisingly large to-go box she handed to Salazar. There was no way it only had a strudel in it. Her gaze turned to Godric knowingly as she said warmly, "Enough for youse boys to share. Save some for the new year!"
Both founders thanked her and gave their best wishes for the holidays before taking their leave. Time to head to Godric's Hollow.
oooP2ooo
Cool salt air ruffled across Salazar as he stumbled out of the floo. He ignored the quiet chuckle from Godric. A quick few steps around a wall revealed a distant view of what had to be part of Bristol Bay. It was too far to hear and too distant to see anything but faded blue—just a strip of blue slightly different enough from the sky on the horizon to realize what it was. It reminded him of Godric's childhood home.
Salazar turned to Godric and found him also staring out at the view. Behind him, past the little stone corner that hid the public floo from the weather and general area, was a small square. A roundabout circled about part of it, though it was more of a triangle than a circle. On each side was a muggle post office, a pub with a sign of a grinning lion, and a church with a graveyard. At the center was a war monument.
The church held his attention. It had a tall tower and multiple clear windows that gave anyone inside views of the streets heading in the three directions of the roundabout while facing toward the sea. The main section of the church had a surprisingly tall roof and high-set, thin stained glass windows.
Those windows were very familiar. Godric's father had commissioned them as a donation to the Church after Godric had become renowned. They depicted the biblical story of Daniel in the lion's den. Remove the tower, lower and re-thatch the roof, and it was the church from a thousand years ago (give or take some obvious repairs and other updates).
He turned back to his brother. Godric stared blankly at the windows. Gryffindor jerked forward before he smoothed the motion into a quick walk. Salazar silently followed. The blond walked past the church and paused at the kissing gate to the extensive graveyard.
"My parents are buried here." Godric breathed out. His brother turned sharply toward Salazar. "Who else do you think–"
"Let's see," Salazar offered, his tone just as soft.
Godric led the way, tracing a path he likely walked for years. At the end were graves that still held a hint of Godric's magic. An old yew rose up behind the graves that Godric paused at. His parents' names were mostly worn away. The graves closest to them held other familiar names though. One had Godric's older sister's name, Eileen, engraved across the worn stone. The dates were too faded to read. Salazar recalled that she had married a local man. They had been buried at both their parents' sides. He didn't see Teasegh's name and, thankfully, there was no grave for Godric. (He wasn't entirely certain what he'd do or feel about seeing Godric's grave.)
He bowed his head before Godric's immediate family, offering a silent greeting and wish for peace to them before he backed away and glanced at his brother. Godric was entirely focused on the graves.
Salazar left Godric to offer silent prayers to long-dead kin and friends Salazar hadn't been nearly as close to. Salazar read the gravestones as he slowly, respectfully began to search for his own blood kin. Bagshots, Dumbledores, Abbotts, and a couple of Peverell names were etched into stone with magic giving the engravings longevity other graves didn't have.
James and Lily Potter were laid to rest at each other's side near other Potters. Salazar stared down at their large, shared tombstone for a long time. He had never had a grave to visit before. He wondered what the thought was behind the sentence engraved upon his parent's stone, The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. He was probably missing some context on this one since he couldn't see how that sentence made any sense for a gravestone.
He pressed his hand to it, traced the odd sentence before he focused on the edg of the stone. Glowing markings unraveled across the marble face and slowly sank in, becoming a border at the edge of the stone. It was part protective magic and part well wishes in a language very few people could translate anymore.
The sound of gravel crunching underfoot pulled his gaze up. Godric stood a polite distance away, not watching him but waiting quietly.
Salazar looked down at the graves one more time before he shook his head and joined his brother. The two walked silently back to the gate and the little square. They stopped as they took in a few locals walking from the church to the pub without even a glance toward them, reminding Salazar that they both still had their hats on. He didn't feel like caring about the statute of secrecy at the moment, though. It was strange to be here and strange to have visited the graves of both people long dead that he had grown up with and people not so long dead that should have raised him. Everything about the place and the moment left him off-kilter.
Beyond the little square the church and public floo sat on, thatch-roofed cottages lined two of the three roads and pasture lined the last. Old stone walls framed it all. It was both entirely different and so very familiar.
There were fewer trees. The houses weren't the same from a thousand years ago, though a few gave him an odd sense of deja vu. Those probably sat on the ruins of the original houses, using the same foundations.
"It's strange to visit the grave of my parents when I've living parents," Godric finally said.
"It's strange to have graves of parents to visit," Salazar quietly answered.
Neither looked at the other as they contemplated those facts and the strangeness of being in a village they had once known and was still oddly familiar and entirely different at the same time. The feeling of it all being wrong—this wasn't how this place is supposed to look—was sharper here than at Hogwarts. Or perhaps he had simply grown used to the changes at the castle.
Salazar walked over to the monument to get away from the strangeness of it all only to grimace when the statue shifted into something that was its own type of bizarre. The statue was of his parents and a tiny toddler version of himself. There was no runic scar on the toddler's head.
He turned sharply away from the image of an unbroken family, of "a could have been" and a "what if" moment sealed in stone, and headed down the road towards the bay. Maybe it was instinct, though probably more simply chance, but it only took a couple of minutes walk before familiar-due-to-magical-vision gates came into view.
The frankly distasteful sign—not that anyone else would likely agree—rose as he and Godric slowed to a stop before the gates. Unlike in the vision, the sign was carved into by many different hands. Some were initials marking a person who had been here. A few were his initials, HJP, left in the center of cupid hearts. But most were little messages to Salazar—to Harry.
Salazar couldn't help but read the words people left in hopes he'd find them one day: "Good luck, Harry, wherever you are."—"If you read this, Harry, we're all behind you!"—"Long live Harry Potter."
Part of him couldn't help but wonder what they'd have said if they knew who he really was.
"Salazar…" Godric muttered before he hesitated and fell silent.
It pulled Salazar from his thoughts, though. He glanced over at Godric and gave a crooked smile. Godric offered a weak smile back. Being in this village was probably more emotionally convoluted for Godric than it was for him.
The sign sank back into the ground as he reached around it for the gate. He stilled as magic pressed against his hand. Tears welled at the odd comfort that swept over him with the smell of cinnamon and a summer storm's brisk breeze. Cinnamon brought the image of long red hair and the breeze whispered mischief. His hand settled onto the gate as he shook his head free of the remnants of memories. It swung open at his touch.
Beyond the gate was a two-story cottage with most of its roof blown off. The garden surrounding it had turned wild. Forest crawled forward from the backyard, likely having spent the ten years of abandonment reclaiming most of the land.
Salazar pushed up his glasses as he blinked back the tears and firmly ignored the heavy emotions he couldn't—wouldn't—name. The reincarnated boy stepped through the tattered remains of protective enchantments that had failed to keep his family safe. Godric followed and stopped at his side once more, a silent but grounding presence.
No one had bothered cleaning up. Pieces of the second story and the roof was scattered across the yard. The front door was blown off. Glass crunched under their shoes as the two eleven-year-olds walked into the house. By the door a line of dust-covered shoes—a man's, a woman's, and a toddler's—were stacked. The first room was a little sitting area with upturned, weather-beaten furniture scattered across the space but once could have centered around the little fireplace. A moth-eaten wool rug was stained brown in places.
Godric physically pulled Salazar away from those stains and towards the next room over. It was a dining room untouched by time beyond the thick layer of dust settled over the table and chairs. Another doorway opened into a kitchen that still had dirty dishes waiting to be cleaned. Some of its windows had shattered, likely due to the magical pressure that had blown the roof off.
"There was a cat," Godric remarked quietly, "Maybe being a cat person runs in the family."
Salazar turned to his brother and followed where Godric pointed. Little cat bowls sat as dusty as the rest of the place. Inexplicable worry for the cat twisted through him.—Someone had to have taken her in. (He had no idea why he thought the cat had been a female.)
He shook his head to knock the emotions away once more and walked quickly away from the bowl and over to one of the cabinets. Salazar yanked the drawer open and paused to stare down at its contents. It was a junk drawer with a miscellaneous pile of buttons, tape measures, and odd nails. A large iron ring holding very old keys sat at the center of the mess.
As he picked it up, he knew exactly what they were for. Magic seeped from the metal into his hand and settled when it recognized him as a Potter. The House magicks had really sent him hunting for keys.—The Potter Manor was nearby. (Why hadn't Lily and James lived there?)
Before he could decide that was all there was to find in the kitchen, his gaze caught sight of another door. Salazar pocketed the ring of keys as he walked around the small island counter and pulled the door open. It was a closet stuffed full of things. There were brooms—for cleaning and flying—cleaning material, a wicker basket with a bizarre slogan of "Clothes-Washing-Up Basket—As If You Had Your own House-Elf", and a thin filing briefcase half buried under boxes of cat food and litter box material.
Salazar knelt and unburied the briefcase while he firmly ignored Godric poking at the magical version of a washing machine. The wicker basket burped bubbles as he pulled the case out with a clatter as cans of expired something he hadn't seen fell.
He shook his head at the mess, firmly squashed the thought about Aunt Petunia screeching for proper organization (his agreement that a shelf would have done wonders wasn't implying things at all), and tried to open the briefcase. It was definitely magically locked and had some type of expansion enchantments imbued within it. Magic laughed with far too much mischief under his fingers as he fiddled with the clip.
After a moment of considering the magic and how familiar it felt, Salazar stated, "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."
The briefcase clicked open. Salazar shook his head at the implications for a certain map. Godric snorted but didn't say anything.
He flipped the leather flap. Inside was filled with parchment sorted in an accordion of file slots. Salazar pulled a parchment out at random. Preservation magic and a status whispered against his fingers as he glanced over an agreement about funding research for a potion tentatively called A werewolf's bane. He slid the parchment back and looked at his brother.
"Looks like what I was looking for," he said as he closed it. His brother nodded.
Salazar swung his satchel over his head so it hung securely off his shoulder and carried the briefcase with his opposite hand. The two eleven-year-olds headed back the way they had come. Rickety-looking stairs to the second story brought them to a quick halt once more.
Godric glanced at him and asked, "Since we're here?"
Salazar nodded. "Since we're here."
Framed pictures lined the stairs. Many were of him as a baby. Godric pulled a frame from the wall and used his sleeve to rub the dirt off.
"These look ok," Godric said as he looked over at Salazar. "We should take them."
Salazar swallowed through a lump in his throat and silently nodded. He set the briefcase down at the foot of the stairs to collect on the way out, then claimed the frame once Godric whipped it slightly less dirty and handed it over. They slowly walked up the creaking stairs as they collected pictures. He didn't look at any of them, he just stuffed them into his bag to look at privately later. A startled noise from Godric pulled Salazar's gaze from the step he had been firmly staring at.
His brother stood a few steps up staring at another framed picture.
"Godric?"
Hazel eyes dragged away from the picture to stare over at Salazar. "I think…" His gaze returned to the picture in hand. "I think this is us, both of us together as babies."
Salazar climbed the steps and took a look himself. Two little tots were gumming at toys and grinning up at the camera. One had feathery black hair and green eyes. The other was almost bald with only a few visible strands of blond hair and hazel eyes. It was absolutely them, together before they had even reached a year old.
"I've recently been told," Salazar said slowly, the fact springing back to mind as he stared at the picture, "that we're godbrothers."
"Funny how the world works," Godric mused out as he pushed the picture into Salazar's hands. "We definitely need to salvage that one."
He added it to the pile slowly filling the remaining space in his satchel. All the pictures, even ones the dirt wouldn't come out of or had their glass shattered to the point that the picture behind it was hidden, ended up in his bag. Any pictures in the little hallway upstairs were picked up and added too.
They weren't avoiding the final confrontation. The pictures could be the most noteworthy items in the entire broken house. (It didn't take nearly as long as part of Salazar had wanted before there were no more pictures to pack away.)
Though there were multiple rooms they could look through upstairs, only one of them pulled their gaze. Through the half-open door, they could see a rotted crib. Neither founder moved into the room for a long time. They just stood in the doorway and took in the remnants of a family broken—part of their family broken.
Salazar forced himself to step into the room and slowly push the door open. With the blown-off roof, the entire room was worse off than the rest of the house. The wind had knocked the door about if the scraps across the floor were any indication. Little quidditch figurines had been scattered across the floor. Rotten stuffed animals sat in a pile, only distinguishable because of the magic still holding them together.
He sank down to his knee before the crib and pressed a hand to the bars and then the rugged floor. No answering magic rose. Salazar frowned faintly as he focused on investigating rather than possible memories. (Something teased at the back of his mind.—green light and laughter and screams—He ignored it.) His mother had done something to save him but he couldn't see any sign of what that could have been. He rose and looked over the floor. A rug covered most of it.
"Help me move the rug," Salazar asked.
Godric lifted the end near the doorway. A metallic ding rang out as something fell off it. The two boys shared a look and Godric tossed the rug toward Salazar before taking a look at the object.
"Bloody hell."
Salazar dropped the rug into a vague pile before the crib and climbed over it to see. "Wha–that's your sword."
"Yeah," muttered Godric as he reached down in wonder and confusion.
"Wait."
Gryffindor's hazel gaze snapped up to look at Salazar even as he stayed in his crouched position, hand inches from his sword's handle.
"How can it be here when it should be in your vault?" Salazar asked.
Godric slowly moved his hand to a knee. His gaze turned back to the long seax.
Salazar walked up to stand over the blade. Its handle was still wrapped in familiar, well-worn red-stained leather. A single, large ruby at the end of the handle glinted in the sunlight streaming through the giant gap in the building. The blade was dirty but looked recently sharpened hinting that some of its magic was still in working order.
His brother slowly spoke, "Your parents weren't of House Gryffindor…Liam Weasley had been the Pater and had been killed by Death Eaters in 1979."
"A year and a half, two years, or a little more, from when Voldemort attacked here," Salazar added.
"Voldemort brought the sword here," Godric concluded before he asked, "why?"
Salazar pulled out one of his more worn shirts—as worn as a few-month-old shirt could be—and handed it to Godric. "Wrap it in that…I would prefer we avoid skin contact with it until we have a chance to check it for curses."
Godric heaved a heavy sigh as he did just that.
While Godric silently mourned what may have been done to his blade, Salazar turned his gaze to the uncovered floor and tilted his head this way and that. He dropped into his own crouch and shuffled across the wood flooring with a frown. There was something there but it was too faint to make out any proper details. Pressing a hand to the wood gave him nothing. Pushing his magic into it gave him the sense of multiple little pieces hooking onto his magic but unable to do anything because the little pieces were fractured and useless.
He huffed. There had been some type of markings placed across the floor, probably in paint. Similar to the chalk in the magic revealing ritual, the paint had been used up. So he guessed he could say, with certainty, that his mother had completed a ritual to save his life. This didn't surprise him, he had already known it from the magical impressions he gained during his first purification ritual. Everything to this point had indicated she had used a ritual.
Salazar just wished he knew what ritual but at this rate he may have to just accept this was all they would ever know.
oooP3ooo
(Neville)
Godric followed Salazar as Familia magicks embedded in the ring of keys led them towards the bay. He clenched the shirt-wrapped sword in his hands. It would be better to secure it in Sally's satchel but Godric didn't want it out of his sight. There was something off about the magic seeping through the fabric.
Voldemort had done something to his sword and Godric had an ill feeling that he would not like the answer. He definitely did not want Sally anywhere near it. Whatever had been done to it, had been done to be used against his brother.
That sick fuck had cursed his sword to harm his brother.
The specifics didn't matter at this point. The sword would be tucked away into his vault the instant he had the chance to return to Gringotts. Later, once they had less to deal with, he would investigate what was done. He had a whole lifetime to undo and fix the mess done to it.
Water rumbled as it rushed up the pebbled beach. Snowflakes started to flutter down around them as Sally turned to walk across the rocky coast.
Godric didn't immediately follow. The beach had changed a little—everything about his childhood home had changes to it—but it still had a very familiar view. He had always found it peaceful. The modern bits in the distance didn't change that fact. On a clear day, distant Wales could be spied.
A well-used hiking trail guided Godric after his brother. It led up into the cliffs that edged the beach. A modern lookout was set at its top where once young men would sneak their sweethearts up to. Godric had shared a kiss or three up here in his day. The industrial metal piping setup in an attempt to protect people from falling off the cliff made it less romantic but didn't ruin the view.
"The Potters were insane," Salazar remarked as he followed the magick in the ring of keys and walked a thin path onto the other side of the steep hill before it dropped off into more cliffs. This was the side prone to crumble into the sea.
It was less steep than he remembered them being. Whole chunks of the area had crumbled and had made a little more space for a thin trail.
His brother grabbed onto his sleeve as the keys guided them off the much less trodden walking path and into the steep cliffside. It was only a few minutes more before Godric felt the weight of judging magic settle over him.
Sally tugged him through and remarked with more conviction, "Insane."
A ruin of a building rose up against the side of the cliff. Nearly the entire thing hung over the sea—nearly because parts of the building were missing. Only magic could be holding what was left in place. There was no door. The entrance had clearly caved in. Scorch marks and similar damage made it clear that some type of battle had occurred.
"Don't think you actually need those keys," Godric finally remarked.
Sally set the briefcase on a rocky lip and leaned on it to stare down at the distant water before he grumbled out, "Any bets on me finding a bunch of Potter relics in this mess?"
"Definitely not taking that," Godric stated dryly, "I'm surprised any of this is still standing. Your father has been dead for over ten years now. This had to have happened before you were born too…this isn't safe to enter."
His brother made a disgruntled noise, green eyes glaring at the remains of his family home. Godric changed the grasp on his arm to him grasping Sally's arm and tugged the brunet back the way they had come.
"At least all the contracts should be in the briefcase," Godric offered as he shifted his hold on his wrapped-up sword so it wouldn't fall as he dragged his brother back to the safer side of the cliffs. He glanced back to add, "We could look about the place later if you really want but, Sally, it's a bloody ruin. Anything left has been in the elements for years."
The frown on his brother's face looked like it might be becoming permanent. Today had been a long one.
Godric sighed and tugged Sally away. Once his brother started to follow willingly, he let go and led the way past the old lover's vantage point and toward where he was almost certain the Gryffindor manor was.
It was time for a break: They were supposed to be on holiday.
The path that followed the safe side of the cliffs split in two. He took the trail leading back inland and toward a hill. They hiked up the hillside, following the well-used trail until the path ended at a pile of rocks. He silently nudged Sally's shoulder as he passed the apparent place of interest to muggles and felt magic fall over him like with the Potter house, except this magic was welcoming to him and clearly cautious towards Sally. He grasped Salazar's arm once more and tugged him through the magic.
The hillside, which had looked to be curving into a gentle top, shifted to reveal a further incline. Since the area's forest was so depleted, he hadn't realized that an entire hilltop had been hidden by magic.
He shook his head at the change of perspective and continued the hike. Every once in a while he guided Sally through further enchantments hiding the Gryffindor property until they reached a gate with what he hoped was a pair of painted Griffin statues guarding the entry. (They looked very gold. Too gold for them to be just painted.)
Sally snorted behind him but didn't say anything about the golden statues.
Godric shifted his hold on his sword and dropped Sally's sleeve before he pressed a hand to the gate. Like with the cottage, the gate swung open without a creak or groan. Beyond rose a tall manor that had to have views of the village nestled in the valley and bay for miles around.
Fine gravel led the way to the huge double doors. The doors were golden and carved with the face of a male lion snarling out at them.
It was a sign of what was inside.
Like the doors, the entry was huge with a two-story high ceiling and gold-toned wooden beams holding the roof in place. Large windows made the place bright and airy, which Godric did like.—He could have done without the mosaic the doors opened to though.
It was the most distasteful thing he had ever seen.
Salazar made a faint sound but didn't voice his thoughts.
Godric could guess what his brother was thinking. One of Godric's descendants had this made and none of the others had thought to take it down. It indicated a very poor opinion of House Slytherin. He felt disturbingly confident that his however many great grandkids hated House Slytherin, or at least Salazar—their however many great uncle.
Which made it one of the most disturbing pieces of art he's had the displeasure of owning.
It was a larger-than-life mosaic of a pride of gold-plated and ruby-encrusted lions killing and eating a giant silver-plated and emerald-encrusted snake. It was beautifully done. There was no denying it was a piece of art but, by the Mother, he was going to melt the damn thing down before the holidays were over.
The two of them stared up at it for a long few moments. It took that long to notice the absolutely huge fireplace, clearly built to allow floo travel, set to the side of the room, and the secondary double doors that were made from gold-toned wood and carved with a pride of lions running through the safari.
Godric supposed it made sense for magical manors to have a courtyard or an outer entry for people to floo into before having a second entrance to the rest of the house. Using said entry as a statement of the House was also entirely logical. He just would have preferred a different statement.
"I suppose," Salazar drawled out, poorly masking his discomfort, "this is the other reason you're poor. Between the golden griffin statues and-and–" He waved a hand wordless at the mosaic. "–there wouldn't be much money left."
He made a face at that, opinions of his grandkids souring further at the reminder. Godric groused, "Let's just find a place to crash."
Sally hummed in wordless agreement. Godric led the way into the rest of the manor.
oooPooo