A/N-Elipsa: Usually we don't put announcements first thing, but... WARNING: Not fun times ahead. Warnings are at the bottom of the chapter.


Godric XXI

When Godric discovered Rowena and Helga on the Hogwarts Express, he saw Helga's tiny owl perched on her shoulder and Rowena reading. He smiled. "Found you!"

"It was only going to be a matter of time as we were not hiding from you." Rowena smiled back, looking up from her book, her finger pressing against the paper.

Godric flounced into the room and quickly put his trunk away and sat on the opposite bench, curling his legs underneath him. "What a merry chase that might have been. How were your summers? What are you reading?"

"My summer went well. I'm glad you were able to stay a bit longer this time around," Helga answered first. "My brothers were home for a few weeks. We flew a bit and had a mock Quidditch game. It was nice to see them again."

Rowena held up the tome for Godric to take a look at, not that he read the title. "I am checking on wards to see if I can figure out why Samuel is having a difficult time. Verifying how wards react to one another and such. I will need to see him and what is there before attempting to untangle the web that is around him. As for my summer, nothing to note except that it was quiet as I am so used to having you three around."

As soon as she finished, Salazar came in.

"Sal! How was the summer with the new addition?" Godric jumped up and bounced on his toes.

Salazar stared at Godric. "You called. Daily. I'm sure you know as well as I."

"Yes, but you might not have been able to share everything as he was with you in the house," Godric pouted and flopped back onto the chair.

After Salazar's trunk was put away, he sat down beside Godric and asked, refusing to answer Godric's question, "Have you seen the papers?"

"Difficult not to. They've been screaming the same message since July." Godric leaned against the window and frowned. "I wonder how he escaped."

Rowena shrugged a shoulder as she placed a bookmark and shut the volume. "As we do not have knowledge of the enchantments or wards that are placed around Azkaban, we could not even begin hazarding guesses."

"That is such a horrid place." Helga shuddered. "No one deserves that, not even the worst of people."

The train jolted forward and they began the journey back to Hogwarts.

"It didn't begin as a prison, however I could not find any information of what it was beforehand," Rowena said softly. "Still, you are quite correct, no one deserves to be sent there. Dementors sound horrid."

Helga clapped her hands together. "Let us move on. What are our plans for this year?"

"Samuel," Rowena immediately replied. "I also would like to check on the warding stone."

Godric sat up straighter as he happily declared, "Working with weapons this year. I really need to get more comfortable with them again."

Salazar raised an eyebrow. "It was the ax, wasn't it?"

"... Maybe. Helga? What of you?"

"I have a good base for my social network; I am now working on a portion of the sixth year students along with the seventh years in other houses as well as the new first years."

Godric's nose wrinkled as a thought came to him. "Helga, you enjoy Quidditch, correct?"

"I do. However, I do not have the time while at school. We have too much to do. I must see Ismanna as well when we get back. Sal, you'll come with me?"

"Of course."

"You said you need to talk more with the upper years," Godric continued, undeterred. "Even if you try out for Quidditch and not make the team, you would have an opening with some of the upper years because of that. Also, if you do make the team, you will be networking on a different platform, opening your base to a different field."

"You're suggesting Quidditch?" Salazar asked, raising a brow and a smirk quirking his lips.

"I am."

"You, the one who hates playing Quidditch?"

"I see no pleasure in being chased by a flying ball and your life depending on how well the broom you're flying is maintained. As long as my feet remain on the ground I am quite content with the sport."

"Just admit you're scared."

"I am not! I am perfectly fine with -"

"Alright, alright." Helga chuckled. "I will think on it. I believe we have a Chaser opening this year, along with the keeper."

The next few hours passed, the conversation flowing freely. When they were only an hour away from the castle, the other three pulled on their robes and Godric, as per usual, waited. He would not put them on until the castle stood in sight and not a moment sooner than that.

And then the train shuddered.

Braked.

Came to a screeching halt.

The four looked at each other, drawing their wands. Salazar went to the door, Helga and Rowena following behind as he opened it and looked into the hallway. Godric got to his feet, facing sideways so he had the window and the compartment door in his sights. He frowned as he noticed that the sky had darkened considerably even though it wasn't late enough for the sun to have completely set.

"There is nothing but students out," Salazar murmured.

"Any news of why we stopped?"

"None that I can hear. Everyone is asking the same thing as we are. Helga, will you go speak with some of your connections? Perhaps you can find more information."

Godric's eyes focused on the glass as movement caught his attention.

A thin stream of ice bloomed across the window. Spreading, thickening, until a thin sheet covered the entirety of it. Cold spilled into the room and Godric shuddered, eyes widening as a heavy feeling of dread filled the pit of his stomach. "Sal?"

"Godric... Has... Has anyone told you?"

That was Helga's voice. Helga's real voice.

His breath came out in a thick stream of white. He could feel his body shivering. He pointed his wand at the glass as he turned to face the window fully.

"Yes, of course," Helga said as she made her way around Salazar and Rowena.

Did they not hear her?

"What ever do you mean, Helga? Told me what?" He turned and saw Helga and it felt like ice flooded his veins. He had just returned and the day hadn't fully woken. She looked hardly dressed. Her hair loose around her shoulders. Her eyes red and puffy, tears still flowing freely.

"I'll go with her," Rowena said.

He could make out a figure on the outside of the train, warped due to the filtering light and ice. A hand pressed against the glass, nails clicking before dark, grey shaped fingers followed, sickly and grotesque.

No.

"Sal."

He heard it in his head.

He could see it.

No... no, he didn't want to remember.

"It's about Salazar," Helga spoke quietly.

He wanted it to stop.

"Ric?"

Godric's eyes widened and he pressed a hand against his chest, lips trembling as he pulled up a smile. The smile he had practiced long before he knew her. He could feel it faltering for the first time in years. "Salazar went to a village," he said. "A child showed magic. I couldn't go with him, we had those Romans I had to see to. Where are they? They made it here safely, I am sure." Salazar wouldn't allow otherwise.

Another hand joined the first, pressing against the glass. The ice melted under the palms. Still the hands pressed, the glass buckling under the pressure as whoever was on the other side seemed to try to enter.

"What is that? Ric!"

He felt movement behind him, but Godric couldn't look away, but he could hear Sala - that wasn't Salazar's voice. It was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Salazar... Salazar was dead. He felt tears slip down his face as he stared at the hands on the glass.

"Don't break the glass. We do not know what it is, but it can't get in. Ric, I need you to focus on me."

Fresh tears pooled in her light blue eyes and trickled down her cheeks. "They... They didn't make it, Godric."

Godric could hear the rattling of breath. Could feel the echo of it in his chest. His heart beat too loudly. His chest ached. His throat burned. His eyes itched and he couldn't feel his hands.

Salazar had died.

Because of him.

Because he didn't go with Salazar.

His wand clattered to the ground.

"Ric, turn away!"

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

"Dè?" He whispered, the gaelic slipping from his tongue without thought. "Dè tha thu ag ràdh, Helga? Nach eil iad an seo fhathast?"

"What?" Godric stepped backwards, the word leaving him in a whisper. "What are you saying, Helga? Are they not here yet? Where are they? I'll go retrieve them. Dry your tears, all will be well."

It had to be.

Tattered robes came into sight as the creature moved closer. The color a deep, deep grey almost black. Soiled. Twisting around as if a body did not hide underneath. The face lay completely covered.

Hands yanked at his shoulders. He could hear words falling from someone's lips. They didn't sound familiar. Didn't sound right.

They were wrong. All wrong. They were dead. All of them. Dead.

First Salazar.

"Godric, Salazar...he's..." Helga took a fortifying breath and stepped forward, arms reaching outwards as if to pull him into her embrace, but he stumbled backwards into the wall, his armor clanging against the stone as he wildly shook his head. "He's dead, Godric." Her words fell away.

Then Diarmid.

Helga followed days later. Heartbreak.

The masks that he painstakingly crafted each morning.

Then Rowena.

The smiles and laughter he forced himself to show.

He was alone.

The emptiness he tried desperately to hide.

With only darkness.

They all fell away and he felt... gone. Shrouded in darkness. Drowning. Hands reaching, clawing. Trying to pull himself up, up, up. Reaching for the hands that always dragged him to the light, away from the screaming in his head. Away from the mocking laughter. Away from the taunts and jeers. Away from the blood, and the gore, and the pain, and the death that came later.

So he handled it.

He reached.

He threw himself into battle.

And found nothing.

He fought and he did not care for his well being.

The hands that were always there... vanishing... vanishing... gone.

And then... he stopped fighting. He just closed his eyes.

He fell to his knees and he couldn't stop himself from drowning.

And let himself go.

Godric screamed.

He found himself on his knees, hands pulling at his hair. The cold from the outside wall seeped into his skin from where he was pressed against it. Tears streamed down his face, screaming over and over and over, "Chan Eil! CHAN EIL CHAN EIL! Na laighe dhomh! Na laighe! Chan Eil! Rinn iad e! Dh'fheumadh iad! Chan Eil! Chan urrainn dha a bhith!"

His voice was wrong. Too high. Too young. Nothing made sense.

Hands pulled at him and he flinched, throwing himself away from them. Tears ran in streams, obscuring his vision. He could hear others shouting. He could hear the screeching of nails down the window. The mad thumping as the creature threw itself over and over at the glass.

Arms wrapped around him and the smell finally clicked in his brain and he didn't fight. He slumped and didn't move. He just stared unseeingly. He heard protections thrown up, but it did nothing to cause the creature to leave.

Godric couldn't force himself to care. Couldn't force himself to move. The hands tried to force him away, and he didn't know if it worked. And then he heard someone new shout something and a light filled the room and for a moment Godric could breathe and he could focus.

He wasn't in the castle.

He wasn't in his armor coated in blood.

Helga wasn't in front of him, telling him Salazar was dead.

Godric blinked and he saw that Salazar was in front of him, alive. That he had moved Godric away from the window. They were nearly to the hallway. Helga and Rowena were behind them, wands drawn at the glass, faces ashen. Helga with tears in her eyes as she stared at Godric. A man stood to the side, a fierce scowl on his face, and floppy light brown hair that had flecks of grey throughout.

There were others. Staring and white.

Godric reached out, hands trembling. He grasped at Salazar's robes. He curled into a ball and pressed his ear against Salazar's chest, right above his heart.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

He was alive. Breathing. There.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Godric whimpered, "I was last. Why was I last? Please, please, don't leave. I can't. Not... not again."

He couldn't breathe.

He closed his eyes, gasping, clinging.

And let the blackness he had almost forgotten surround him.

And drowned.


Google Translate Time:

Dè? Dè tha thu ag ràdh, Helga? Nach eil iad an seo fhathast? = What? What are you saying, Helga? Are they not here yet?

Chan Eil! CHAN EIL CHAN EIL! Na laighe dhomh! Na laighe! Chan Eil! Rinn iad e! Dh'fheumadh iad! Chan Eil! Chan urrainn dha a bhith! = No! NO NO! Don't lie to me! Don't lie! No! They made it! They had to! No! He can't be!

Warnings:

Depression, suicide/death (original timeline), and dementors are terrible.