Disclaimer: I am just a mere visitor in the sublime world constructed by J.K Rowling. Anything that rings a bell is hers.

Chapter Three

Godric pulled the reigns of his horse and slowed to a halt. He glanced to his side; the beautiful witch was a natural rider. Long brown strands escaped from the braid that had been bouncing upon her back, her face flushed from the sprint. He blushed slightly, thinking that she must look such a way in bed, and he busied himself with jumping off his chestnut steed, Haidar, to distract from such thoughts.

'This is beautiful!' Helga exclaimed, jumping easily down from Arik. The two horses immediately wandered to the nearby stream.

'I'm surprised you've never ridden before. I thought you quite the country girl.'

She laughed, 'My father would never keep horses. He would think it too muggle.'

Godric frowned slightly at this, he thought that he and Helga shared the same ideologies. They had shared many a campfire talk during their campaign against the giants, and he was sure she had agreed with his sentiments completely.

'Fortunately, I take after my mother.' She added with a comforting smile and Godric's lips quirked up. Goodness, he was completely in love with this witch. Everything she touched seemed to turn to gold. The sun was a dull fool in her presence.

'Is she the one who taught you all those healing spells?'

They began walking through the forest, Godric stayed close to her. Every so often her elbow would brush against his and it will jolt him to the core.

'Aye! Though she'd argue that I learnt most things from Aleria, Rowena's mother. She was my teacher, and my mother's oldest friend. I mean, Aleria is probably the most brilliant witch I know, aside from Rowena, but she doesn't really care for healing magic and nature.' She touched a nearby flower and Godric noticed it magically un-wilted. 'I was never a good student of hers, but I did try, and I think she appreciated that, at least. What was it like, sharing a teacher with Salazar.'

Godric barked a laugh. 'I imagine not unlike sharing a teacher with Rowena! He and Daegal would spend hours and hours talking about the philosophy of magic and debating theories, they were always in their head, those two. Randolf, who also studied under Daegal, and I, would often spend that time duelling. I think it why Salazar felt left out, but really it was us who were the left-out ones.' Godric was silent a moment. 'He was an excellent teacher, though.'

'I'm sure he knew you thought as much.' His breath caught at her words. It was the absolute perfect thing to say, even if Godric didn't believe it to be true. He deeply regretted how he left things with Daegal, and there was little he could do to change things now that his teacher was dead.

He felt his heart grow heavy, and he moved closer to Helga, hoping her shining disposition was contagious.

'Godric.' Helga was looking up at him, a softness in her brown eyes incomparable. What it would be like to be with one so pure. So kind. 'I am betrothed.'

'Again?' Godric huffed out, surprised. He knew that Helga had been engaged to Ahren Ravenclaw, Rowena's older brother. But Ahren was dead, killed defending muggles against giants in Scotland. It was why Rowena and Helga had joined their campaign against the giants in the first place.

'No.' She said simply. 'I vowed myself to Ahren, and I do not think death breaks that vow.'

Not for the first time did Godric feel envious of Ahren Ravenclaw. To die such a courageous death. To be loved so completely by someone such as Helga. To have the money of a Ravenclaw.

'I'm sure Ahren would want you to marry Helga. He would want you to be happy.'

'Oh of course!' She nodded in agreement, 'But I don't see why happiness only be achieved if I wed someone. I know!' She laughed, 'I sound like Rowena. But I swear, I'm not against the institute that is marriage. I just. I want to marry for nothing less than love.'

Godric felt as if he were stabbed in the chest again, but for the blow to be by the very hands that had healed those wounds made it hurt all the more. Helga was saying she did not love him. That what he had felt for her, growing deeper with time, was not requited. A rational voice in his head, one that sounded annoyingly like Salazar, said this may be for the best. If they were to embark on such an endeavour as the first magical school in Britain, it would be better to be friends, than lovers.

Cleaner.

'Oh!' Godric turned around at her gasp, his hand on his sword at her widening eyes but he stilled, noticing what had caused her surprise. It was why they had ventured into Dartmoor Woods in the first place.

The wild crups wagged their forked tails at them, and Godric knelt down and the pack ran at him. He petted them, knowing they were harmless creatures. Helga joined in, playing with the beasts, lightening the heavy conversation they had engaged in. She laughed as one licked her face, and Godric couldn't help but feel joy that he had been the one to cause this.

'I don't know how anybody could dislike such beautiful creatures!' She remarked. 'Or tame them! Look how happy they are, out in the wild!'

Godric quite agreed, he knew they were some wizards who liked to catch crups and keep them as pets, much like muggles did with dogs. But muggle dogs were at least used for the hunt, why tame a beast for no reason.

They rose as they heard the sounds of the horses neighing.

'Wait here.' Godric sensed the horses were agitated and walked back to where they had left them.

He found them, unsettled, rearing themselves on their hind legs and he ran forward to calm them down.

It was then he noticed the still body on the ground.

An old man. Muggle by his clothes, which were bloodied.

'Oh Goodness!' Helga shouted, not heeding his request to stay behind. The crups had followed her, and upon seeing the body at Godric's feet they launched at it.

Godric was aghast, and fired a spell at the nearest one before it could attack the body and it yelped.

'Godric, no!' Helga shouted, whipping out her wand. He was much faster, and he disarmed her, quickly repelling the pack of crups and they flew back, whimpering to their feet. 'Godric!'

Her scream stopped him from firing at them again, and the pack of crups, as if sensing this was their best chance of survival, took to the woods.

'You've hurt them.' She said, concern leaking from her voice.

'Hurt them! I should kill them – look what they've done!' He pointed at the dead muggle on the floor – did she not understand that the marks on his body were crup bites. That these beasts had killed him. This poor, innocent man who could not defend himself.

'They don't understand any better. It's just their nature to hunt muggles, just as it ours to kill elk for food.'

He narrowed his eyes at the witch, 'Muggles are quite different to elk, Helga.'

Her eyes softened, 'Of course. Of course, it's terrible that that poor man is dead. Are you sure, let me check.' She knelt beside the man, reaching for his neck and she heaved a sad sigh. 'Godric – I didn't mean that muggles are not important.'

Godric cleared his throat; he didn't realise that crup killed muggles. They were so gentle with him, he assumed they were just harmless beasts.

He didn't want to feel disappointed in Helga. He suddenly felt cold, as if the sun was eclipsed. He knelt down, lifting the old man up easily, uncaring that his blood now stained his white tunic. He calmed Haidar with a stern look and placed the man on the horses back. He turned, holding his hand out to Helga.

She looked up at him, and he could tell that she felt guilty. 'Godric.'

'Come, it's getting dark.' She placed her hand in his and he pulled her easily to her feet, leading her to Arik and helping her jump on.

They rode back in silence. Godric had been so sure that it would be good to invite Helga and Rowena to join them. That they were good, and kind, and just.

The voice that sounded like Salazar chimed in his head that if he were being honest with himself, he was just looking for a reason to spend more time with Helga.

He kicked his horse, quickening his speed, letting the wind block out even the sound of Salazar in his head.

Noon the next day, he and Salazar set off for London. Godric's hands flew out and steadied the muggle who had just bumped into Salazar, the taller wizard throwing the young girl off in disgust.

'Sorry mister – I didn't see ya there!' It was not the girl's fault, for a second ago, they were in fact, not there.

'It's quite alright. Here, keep the coin.' He had given her muggle money and plucked a flower she had been selling, and this was more than enough to have distracted her from any apparition she may have been privy to.

He rolled his eyes as his companion made an exaggerated gesture in wiping his shirt where the girl had touched him, muttering under his breath.

'See, taking a carriage ride down like I suggested would have prevented that.' He smirked at his friend, who loathed the idea of muggle transportation.

'I hope old Barty turns you into a turnip.' Godric mock scowled at the silly phrase they had concocted when they were boys. They would often use the phrase to diffuse tension, something that commonly accompanied their numerous arguments.

They weaved their way down the street, reaching the point for their parting. 'I'll meet you outside the Leaky Cauldron? Tell Randolf I say hello – mayhap he'll have time for a drink with us later?'

Salazar made a non-committal noise and walked off. Godric sighed. They hadn't seen their mutual friend since they had left for the war. Godric had kept in correspondence at the start, but as the campaign moved more North it became harder to send letters. It was Randolf who told him that Branwen Ravenclaw would be joining the Council, and he who had notified them of Daegal's death. It was the last correspondence he received from Randolf, and he worried that the lack of letters following this had little to do with their discreet locations, and more to do with resenting Godric for ruining their little family.

Perhaps Salazar also hated him for Daegal's death. Salazar was Daegal's favourite after all, but he had chosen to come with Godric, defying their master. A defiance he did not get to make amends for, something he surely blamed Godric for.

Lost in his thoughts, he had not realised that he had reached his destination, so to speak. He leaned over the low wall and stared at his reflection that looked up at him in the Thames river. He looked to his left, and right, assuring that nobody was watching, and jumped in.

Almost instantly he was on the white tiled floor, completely dry. He looked up at the high ceiling that rippled, the water it consisted of being displaced by boats and fish and all the secrets of the London river. It was a nifty piece of magic, and Godric didn't hide the fact that he was quite impressed by the architecture.

Branwen Ravenclaw was far from his favourite person, but Godric had to admit that he did a great job designing the council chambers.

He walked down the empty corridor, and entered the circular room where the Wizard's Council held their meetings. The Council seats floated in mid-air in a circle, with the centre stage on the floor allocated to British wizards who wished to bring forward points for the council to discuss once a month. The stage was covered in elaborate runes, that Godric knew held magic that prevented deceptive spells, but additionally muted magic of anybody who stood on the floor of the room – a preventative measure following a deadly duel that broke out from a disgruntled audience member of the Council a few years ago.

'Admiring Randolf's handiwork.'

Godric didn't turn at the wizened voice, 'He was always exceptionally adept at Runes.'

'Quite so. Daegal was useless at them, so it's a wonder where he picked it up from.'

Godric took a deep breath; it wasn't even 5 minutes, and Barty was already insulting one of the most important wizards of Godric's life.

Typical of his uncle.

'I hear things went well with the giants.' Bartemius Bragge had reached Godric, and the pair stood shoulder to shoulder near the centre of the room.

'No thanks to you.' It slipped out before he could stop himself – he was meant to be winning Bragge over, not bringing up previous grievances. 'How is Claudette?'

Bragge allowed the change of subject, 'Spritely. But I doubt you wrote for urgent audience to inquire about the health of my wife.'

'Well…she is my aunt.'

'Hmm yes, you do visit so often.'

Godric had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the sarcastic comment. He turned into a complete teenager in front of the man, and almost as broody as Salazar.

Bartemius Bragge was his uncle by marriage. After Godric's mother refused his proposal, he had wed her younger sister, and after his mother had died, Godric had lived with the childless pair whenever Daegal ventured to places that his students could not follow. Daegal had always been a sore topic between the two men, as Bragge was a Master himself, and was most insulted that his own ward chose another to learn from.

'I've come to talk about setting up a school for young witches and wizards, with fellow masters and mistresses. I'd like council approval for this.'

'And who are these fellow masters and mistresses.' His uncle's voice was level.

'I think you know my friend Salazar-'

'The one who hates muggles.'

'He doesn't hate…he is wary of muggles, yes. And the daughter of Aleria Ravenclaw, and that of Hedd Hufflepuff.'

'Quite the combination.' Barty stepped forward and Godric looked at the back of the wizard's head, which had greyed considerably since he last saw him. He wore his hair around his chin, under a slouching pointed hat. 'Though I do wonder why it is you seek Council approval. You never cared for such things before.'

'Perhaps all your talks about growing up has taken latent effect.' Godric jested and the wizard chuckled hollowly. He turned around, facing Godric.

'You know…teaching is a big commitment. You can't run off when wars take your fancy. Shaping the minds of the youth is an incredibly big task. There is no glamour in teaching, no glory.'

Perhaps the way you do it, Godric thought ruefully to himself.

'It might surprise you uncle, but my days of running off to war are quite behind me.'

His uncle didn't say anything, his bottle green eyes sizing Godric up, as if to find a lie hidden in the crease of his eyes.

'Fine. I'll add your proposal to the agenda for next Friday.'

Godric was shocked. He had allotted another twenty minutes for convincing his uncle.

'Thank you, uncle – you won't regret this!'

'Not so fast.'

Of course. His uncle never supported him when he proposed they formally go to war with the giants last year. And neither did he support his nomination for council 2 years ago, choosing to support Ahren Ravenclaw instead.

Why would he actually support him now.

'I can put the motion on the agenda but that doesn't guarantee it being passed. I for one, won't vote for it unless there is active Council involvement.'

Active Council involvement?

'We'll have a full proposal of course, with details outlining exactly-'

'I don't doubt you will do your due diligence, but what you are proposing is disrupting the way our kind have been training for centuries. You cannot expect the Council to let children, no matter how well connected they may be, to have carte blanche on the next generation of wizard kind.' He held his hand up, knowing Godric would want to defend being called a child – he was five and twenty! 'I'm not saying no. Come with your proposal, but just be clear I won't vote in favour unless there is scope for Council participation. Now,' He gestured Godric follow him towards the exit, 'I hear Aleria's daughter is quite fetching, and unpromised. The Ravenclaws…'

Godric let his uncle talk at him about how prestigious Rowena's family was, and he knew better than to disrupt the man when he got like this. He walked to the exit, hoping that the others were making better progress with their council members.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed that! Please review to let me know what you think!