In which we get a glance through Rowena's eye, Badgers Keep gets a new guest, and the three heirs learn about what awaits them on the 1st of September.

Enjoy
A_A

Everything went forward splendidly. The Badgers Keep looked better with every passing day. The plans formed and progressed satisfactorily. The heirs were coming around as expected. And Salazar still didn't notice snakes sneaking around the bottom hem of his robe. Godric and Voldemort did, but none of them said a word.

To sum it up, Rowena had a very good day.

"And the money?" Godric asked, pushing the only topic that was a little sour. Most of the money they owned then were either left with the families (and practically none of that was left) or with Hogwarts. They still did not know the state of Hogwarts funds, although the fact that they were connected to the Ministry didn't bode well. Fortunately Salazar was paranoid enough to hide a little part in secret, and that was all they could count on for now.

"I have retrieved the chest," Salazar announced, "And visited Gringotts today. As I suspected, there are accounts owned by Hogwarts. They are currently accessible only to the headmaster and assigned Ministry workers. However, they belong to the school, so all we have to do is reclaim the school to gain access. I had a little conversation with my new friend, Grodbik, who gave me some inside information. The state of school funds is… deplorable. Grodbik, however, opened the new vault for the funders and heirs. It consists of what I have brought, as well as some investment in the… school that goblins decided to make after I presented the Head Goblin with our objective. They are personally interested in multiplying the gathered resources in the shortest possible time."

Rowena laughed shortly.

"You and goblins were always on good terms."

"After all, we see profit similarly," Salazar smiled. "Tom is leaving in the morning. Truth be told, he is still far from presentable, but strong illusions should be sufficient, and once he's underground, it won't matter anymore."

Rowena smiled wistfully.

"I'm jealous," she said dreamily.

"Have you changed your mind about joining?" Voldemort asked.

"No, there's still too much I have to read before September. I can't go back so far in the past without knowledge of more recent discoveries."

"Shame. Barty will have to suffice, then," the man replied.

"I have something more exciting than your treasure hunt," Godric stated, his whole demeanour lighting up. "Augusta got us tickets for the World Cup Finals!"

"That's nice," Salazar sighed.

"Oh shush, grumpy old man," Rowena waved him off, "I would very much like to see the game. And it will be a very good opportunity to take a look at modern society. It's a worldwide event, after all. Have you seen the brooms they make these days? Astonishing! I took a little look at Harry's broom this morning when they went to the Ministry. The magic behind it… an artwork! And how it flies! A dream!"

"That reminds me, that I meant to visit you," Godric said almost instantly. "Could we come over in the morning with Neville?"

"Certainly!"

"At least a little seriousness, please!" Interrupted Salazar. "Do I understand correctly that all the matters in the ministry went our way?"

"Yes, even better. Helga managed to obtain full custody over Harry, there will be no legal issues with Dumbledore on this ground."

"And Augusta said that we have gained a powerful ally in the person of Amelia Bones," chipped in Godric. "We have a really good start. One that will be wonderful if you'll manage to gather everything, Tommy."

"If there's something I have never failed at, it's retrieving old artefacts and treasures," Voldemort replied sourly, "And even if half of what you have listed is no longer there, it will be enough for our purposes."

"Well said!" Godric grinned under his beard, standing up. "I will be going. Augusta doesn't like it when I'm late for dinner. Gets biting. Safe travels, Tommy. And give Barty my best."

"I guess it's time for me to," Rowena decided. "If you'll get lonely here, Sal, visit us."

The man replied with a dark glare, and Rowena gave him three to four days before he'd cave in and join them for dinner. They were just reaching for the Floo Powder when she heard an angry "Rowena!" from upstairs and almost jumped to the fireplace. Salazar must have discovered the snakes.

Exiting the hearth, Rowena found the familiar, comforting picture. Hermione was sitting in the armchair with the book on magical oaths that she had been reading for a couple of days already. It was difficult for a modern reader, true, but also Hermione kept referencing other books and asked plenty of insightful questions that made Rowena beam with pride. Harry and Helga sat at the table. Harry tried to straighten the twitches of the old broom, and Helga prepared the first batch of her herbal liquor.

"At least something will make Salazar happy," Rowena commented.

"Just a little bit of time and he'll smile," Helga replied merrily. "How are things going, Raven dear?"

"Splendidly. Join us, Hermione, I'm sure you'd like to know what is going on."

Hermione came closer, and Rowena started on dinner, passing some of the preparations on to both children. As they worked, she told them about the meeting. She skipped on details that were not important or appropriate for children to know. She grew to treat today's youth as a little younger and more sensitive or simply less experienced, as they were significantly less exposed to the hardships of life.

That was good, she thought. They could keep the innocence for a little while longer.

When the food was ready, and they sat together, Helga – as usual – changed the topic for something lighter, and it quickly drifted back to Quidditch, as Rowena passed on the news from Godric.

"It's funny how we never spent time with Neville at school, and now we see him every other day," Harry noted.

"It's not like we never spent time with Neville," Hermione corrected instantly. "We have classes together, we're paired up sometimes, we talk during meals and in the common room. You share the dormitory."

Harry didn't look convinced.

"Yeah, because I talk so much with people other than Ron and you. Neville is there, but we hardly have anything to talk about besides school… At least, I think so. We never talk much."

"You must know at least a few basic things," Hermione insisted, "Like his passion for herbology. He also likes to dance, reads a lot of adventure books, both magical and muggle, and drinks tea rather than pumpkin juice because he considers it too sweet. And I'm sure that he told you much more in the dormitory."

Harry shrugged, causing Rowena to smile with a corner of her mouth. It sounded a little familiar. Helga hardly ever knew anything about other students than Hufflepuffs, but about them, she seemed to know everything up to the point of recognising them by the footsteps in the dark corridor.

"I dunno, Hermione, he doesn't talk much in the dormitory. I mean, I see some things okay. I'm not dense. He always goes to shower first, puts his wand in the drawer every night, and forgets it in the morning. But he always keeps to himself, and I seriously can't blame him. Dean and Seamus are pretty loud. And when Ron and Dean start with their annoying argument about Quidditch versus football… I mean, it was fun the first few times, but it got super annoying at the point when Ron started to poke Dean's posters with needles to make the players move… So Neville shuts his curtains right after showering, and I go second not to have to hear the bickering. When I wake up in the morning, he's gone or already coming back for his wand. And when we're paired up, you know, we're in the class. So we talk about the class."

"You have to listen to him at least during meals."

"Sometimes," Harry sighed. "Does it matter? I still don't know him well. Can you say that you know Lavender or Parvati well?"

"Of course! We might not get along, but I listen when they talk. Even if that's usually gossip and boys, and hardly ever even mention the classes or homework… Well, they do if they try to snitch my essay to write it off."

Rowena raised her eyebrows.

"And that is tolerated?"

"Unfortunately, by some teachers. But it's nothing compared to Divination Professor," Hermione looked at Harry with rebuke. "Ron and Harry faked all of their homework for the entire year, and she never noticed!"

"She hated every prediction that wasn't death or disaster," Harry defended himself, "You've been there. You've quit the subject entirely, telling her that her favourite grim is ridiculous, and you've always said she's a fraud."

"Because she is!" Hermione exclaimed passionately, and Rowena raised her eyebrows even higher, listening to the bickering with growing interest.

"But her prophecy at the end was correct, wasn't it? Wormtail escaped, found Voldemort, and helped him raise. We just don't know yet whether he's 'greater and more terrible than he ever was', but you know what I mean. She may be pants at using crystal balls or palm…"

"She is," Hermione said emphatically. "It's nothing in comparison to runes or arithmancy. I've always told you that."

"Well, I chose divination, and now I'm stuck with her whether I want it or not," Harry shrugged. And now Rowena furrowed. All of that sounded… Well, it sounded like Hogwarts was far from what it used to be.

"Do I understand correctly," she asked, "That you are taught the methods of divination available only to true seer by a weak medium? And without verification whether you are or not gifted as a seer?"

Judging by the looks on both faces, Rowena judged that the answer is worse than she expected.

"I assume you know nothing about the art of peaking at future events. Protests and questions later," she added with slight amusement, seeing that Harry wanted to argue and Hermione was somewhere in between defending her knowledge and shooting out questions. "Your professor Trelawney sounds like a weak medium, a prophet. The person that catches glimpses of the future receives the impressions that arise within them and gives prophecies of which they are often unaware, often difficult to decipher, and… well… usually are quite doubtful. I assume that wizards working in the Department of Mysteries caught onto something that allows magic to find valuable predictions among the sea of… let's call it the noise of possible futures."

"It is possible to use a crystal ball or another ritualistic measure of predicting the future if one has a gift to do so. A gift that is loosely related to magic. You can find wizards and muggles alike which are able to use those measures successfully. They are called seers, and they put much effort into perfecting their art. They need knowledge of rituals and interpretation. Of course, magical and muggle means differ, and wizards are usually more successful. However, learning the art is useless for anyone who has no talent in divination. Runic divination, Hermione, is part of the tools used by seers and is also useless for you, however, runes have other applications which are valuable. Finally, there is augury, the art of interpreting the patterns in nature and changes in those patterns. Arithmancy is a very precise measure of those patterns. On the other hand, it is often too tedious to count if you can get the same or better result by observing flying birds for an hour or using a liver from the closest corpse available. Nonetheless, arithmancy is a precise measure of predicting the future available to every scholar that wishes to learn."

For a moment, there was silence in the room as Harry and Hermione looked pensive. Only the soft sounds of moving leaves and the gentle clinging of the copper weight came from the other side of the table, where Helga added precisely measured amounts of wormwood to the collection of clay bowls, already filled with different herbs. Rowena knew this part of the whole process, but after preparing her herbs, Helga took them to some private place and a couple of weeks later – her herbal liquor emerged ready for consumption. On multiple occasions, Godric and Rowena tried to obtain the same result using exactly the same herbs and experimenting with methods for liquor preparation, but to no avail. Their versions were always muddy brown, lacking the golden hue and the taste… Well, it was still strong and bitter but lacked the sweet aftertaste. And the healing properties? Their version could only cure a common cold. Her liquor was a magical remedy. Not to mention that drinking it for pleasure was more pleasurable than whatever tincture they obtained.

"So why is it even taught in Hogwarts?" Hermione drew Rowena back from her thoughts. "If we're unable to learn, it's nonsense to keep teaching this."

"That is an excellent question, dear," Helga piped in. "Tell us more about how your teachers turn a blind eye to cheating."

"Some never do," Hermione assured, "For example, Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall or Professor Babbling. It would be very hard to cheat and very unpleasant to get caught."

"Especially by Snape," muttered Harry.

"Yes, especially by Snape. He's exceptionally mean to all students except for Slytherins," Hermione agreed. "Many other teachers seem not to pay enough attention, or they ignore smaller issues, like Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout, or Professor Vector."

"What are those smaller issues?" Rowena wanted to know, as she was not certain whether her personal definition was even close to what Hermione had in mind.

"Well, for example, Ron often writes off paragraphs from books directly, and Professor Flitwick never minds. While Professor Sprout - who teaches Herbology - puts much more emphasis on our work during class than on our essays. I know that at least twice Parvati and Lavender returned their essays written off word by word from Neville, and she just asked them a couple of questions to make sure they knew what was in it."

"They were working on a group project…" Harry noted.

"Yes, but the essays were to be written separately," Hermione insisted. "And Professor Vector never checks who made calculations during class or homework. And Crabbe and Goyle use Malfoy's work every time. They sit next to him and write it off! And she always ignores it!"

"Maybe because everyone knows they are idiots?" Harry supplied. "You know, 'Mione, it's a miracle they even know how to write it off…"

"It doesn't change the fact," Hermione huffed.

"And other teachers?" Rowena cut the bickering. A thousand years ago, the boys like those two, wouldn't have to learn anything more complicated; someone would teach them offensive and defensive spells, hand them a sword and send them to the border. But it seems to be impossible nowadays. Well, that was a problem to deal with later.

"Well, Professor Sinistra consistently grades us high, no matter how well we actually know the material. She's a good teacher but dreadful in verifying knowledge. Professor Binns is a ghost. He teaches nothing and never checks our work."

"What?" Harry looked up at her.

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed… All we learn is from individual work. His lectures are hard to listen to, and he constantly confuses the classes not only between levels but also between decades. I swear that once he was convinced that we're in the twenties… Obviously, he doesn't teach modern history. Nothing after the date of his death. It's like it doesn't even exist. Professor Burbage, from the Muggle Studies, knows absolutely nothing about how muggles live. All her knowledge is from before the era of technology. She barely knows anything about telephones and television, and it's outdated, not to mention more complicated technology, such as computers. And all the customs she teaches are archaic. I was one of the two muggle-born students in our class, and she constantly lowered our grades because her knowledge was outdated. And there's Defence Against the Dark Arts…" Hermione sighed heavily, and Harry grimaced.

"We get a new teacher every year. Lockhart was the worst. He was a fraud who knew only one spell. All he cared about were his fame, fans, and looks. Disaster… The best lesson he gave us was when he tried to teach duelling, and Snape trashed him with one spell. A pretty useful one."

"Yes, he was awful…" Hermione admitted with a little blush that told Rowena there was some more to the story. "Quirrell was competent, but he fake-stuttered the whole year and kept to theoretical lectures. Professor Lupin, on the other hand, was a really good teacher, but at the end of the year, Snape told everybody that he was a werewolf, so he resigned before the public opinion forced him to."

"That sucks," Harry admitted, "I liked him. And he taught us a lot."

"And then there's Hagrid…" Hermione said slowly.

"Hagrid is fine!"

"Oh, Harry! He's our friend, but we both know Hagrid is not a good teacher. Yes, he knows plenty about magical creatures, but he can't teach. He can't differentiate between exciting and morbidly dangerous creatures. He taught us Flobberworms for the better part of the year. He never sticks to the curriculum! We have no chance of passing the O.W.L.S. if he continues this way because we won't know anything about creatures."

"But he would be a good teacher if he got the chance to…"

"Harry, he has a chance."

"After what Malfoy did?"

"I'm as angry with what happened as you are, Harry, but Hagrid should be sure that everybody understands the rules before allowing us to pet Hippogriffs. And after what Malfoy did, Hagrid was concerned only with Buck… Witherwings, and stuck with Flobberworms because they were safe. Besides that, he showed us only Salamanders. He should teach us all about the creatures falling into X class and could start on XX!"

"What are those classes?" Rowena asked.

"That's the Ministry Classification," Hermione provided instantly. "It was established in 1853 and contains all known beasts, beings and spirits. Class X contains creatures that are absolutely harmless, boring even, Horklumps and Flobberworms, for example. Class XX is those which may be domesticated, including winged horses, puffskeins or mooncalves. Next one, XXX, are the creatures that competent wizards should handle without much trouble, including leprechauns, sea serpents, hippogriffs or kneazles. More dangerous creatures that require special knowledge and should be handled only by trained wizards is XXXX, it includes centaurs, phoenixes, or thestrals. And the last one, XXXXX, are known as impossible to train or domesticate, of course including dragons, but also basilisks, lethifolds, dementors, and werewolves."

Rowena was speechless. Helga stopped working with her herbs.

"Excuse me?" She snorted indignantly. "Have they lost their minds? Werewolves can't be domesticated? Centaurs should be handled by trained wizards? What a rubbish! Where does that leave goblins? Can they be domesticated?"

"Calm yourself," Rowena snapped at her friend, "Children are not responsible for the mistakes of previous generations. However, I would expect some critical thinking from you, Hermione. You have just told us that a werewolf taught you for an entire year, and you list him mindlessly as a classified creature that can't be domesticated?"

Hermione bowed her head with appropriately red cheeks, but Harry was grinning.

"The Ministry is full of morons," he declared, "Just wait as you meet Minister Fudge himself."

"Amelia seemed competent," Helga noticed with a slight rebuke in her voice.

"I guess she was. And Ron's dad works in the Ministry as well. But they decided to send Hagrid to Azkaban when he was not guilty. They sent innocent Sirius to Azkaban without so much as a trial and later wanted him to be kissed by a dementor as fast as possible, without so much as checking whether what we say is true, because Fudge wanted press of his head. They made it so hard for Professor Lupin and other werewolves to get any job. Or centaurs? I've met a few; they are a little nutty but nice guys. You don't need to be extra competent to deal with them. You just need some manners. And last summer, Fudge thought that there was a mass murderer willing to kill me and left me on the Diagon with 'just don't wander around Muggle London', and haven't even said a word. It just goes on. So I assume that if they pass such laws and actually follow them, most of them must lack some brain cells."

Well, it was hard not to agree with this way of thinking, and Rowena smiled slightly.

"There's clearly much to fix," she started but was interrupted by the arrival of an unknown owl who dropped a letter on Harry's head. He picked it up and read the contents in a matter of seconds as his smile grew.

"Sirius wrote that he'll be in Elan Village tomorrow at dawn, and he'll be waiting until I show up."

"Splendid," Helga said, "Then I suppose we should retire for the night so we can be up bright and early to not keep him waiting. What do you say we leave before breakfast?"

"Fine by me," Harry grinned. "You coming, 'Mione?"

"I'm surprised you even have to ask. Of course, I'm coming!"

"That leaves me to prepare breakfast and open the fireplace for Godric and Neville," Rowena decided. She wished everyone a restful night, but when she found herself in the quietness of her bedroom, she didn't even start preparing herself for sleep. There was a collection of history books and dozens of scrolls about past and current laws that she needed to read, understand and change.

Even though excitation kept Harry awake most of the night, he was the first to wake up. Having nothing better to do, Harry readied the brooms. But it wasn't that much to do. So he circled, catching everything he could put his hands on, stopping himself from either jumping on the Firebolt and flying alone or waking up Hermione and Helga.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long, before he heard movement upstairs and a moment later Helga appeared on the stairs.

"Good morning, Harry dear," she said merrily, "Looks like Rowena won't have much work with breakfast."

"Good morning," he replied, already on his feet, "Couldn't sleep… Is Hermione up as well?"

"She's dressing up. And I'll just put some heating charms on the breakfast, and we can go in a minute. Your godfather travels on a Hippogriff, correct?"

"Witherwings," Harry nodded. "They're on the run together. Is that okay?"

"But of course, dear. There are old stables you could restore with your godfather, so Witherwings has a place to sleep, and there's plenty of space to fly, as you know."

"Hello," Hermione entered, looking far less energised than Helena but as excited as Harry. "I've put on comfy shoes. It's rather far, isn't it?"

"Yes, dear. That's why we're flying," Helga smiled at her. "You and I on Harry's Firebolt, and Harry on my old Hazel."

"But I…" Harry started.

"I know exactly what you, dear. You would bolt in full speed, leaving us far behind. And I told you, we need to be sure that your godfather is there without company of any kind. I wouldn't like to have too many guests. Especially those with too long, white beards that can be found on the chocolate frog cards..."

"So we'll be flying slow?" Hermione wanted to know as they went outside. It took a couple of reassurances and comforting pats to get Hermione on the broom behind Helga. She was very suspicious of Firebolt and the drastic changes in speed, height, and direction that the broom was capable of. Especially since Hermione never felt at ease even on much slower and predictable school brooms.

Today, the stroll-like pace of the broom irritated Harry immensely. It wasn't a long way, especially when one hadn't had to stick to the paths and mind the hills. Meadows and moors were passing beneath them, once coming closer to escape, lower a minute later. Every time that happened, Harry saw how Hermione's knuckles grew paler, clenching harder on Helga's belt.

Of course, Harry tried to fly faster several times, but each attempt was met with angry vibrations from the broom, tending to slow even further.

Harry impatiently stared at the approaching hill, one reaching a little higher than others and with steep rocky slopes, contrary to others. Before today, Harry knew to keep away, as on one side lay Reservoir Garreg-ddu, while on the other – Elan Village. Both were full of muggles that Harry needed to avoid. But this early in the morning, they flew unnoticed over the lake and hill to finally slowly descend among the trees just above the village.

They left the brooms under the disillusionment charm and walked down at an irritatingly slow pace. Harry felt antsy but looked around carefully, trying to spot the familiar black dog. They walked along the asphalt road, which amazed Helga and caused Hermione to explain its pros and cons.

"The biggest problem is with heat. I watched a documentary about the problem. It gets so hot in summer that it can reach sixty-five degrees Celsius! There are plenty of strategies that prevent this from happening, but the simplest method is to shade the road with trees because it lowers the temperature by up to 25 degrees. Another method is to…"

"There!" Harry exclaimed, pointing at the corner of the fence several houses away. At the same time, Helga placed a hand on his arm, preventing him from darting forward.

"Just a couple more minutes, dear," she said gently. "Walk with us."

To Harry's satisfaction, they all sped up a little while the huge dog started trotting towards them. He looked suspicious and sniffed the air around, but his tail was wagging enthusiastically. Finally, he jumped forward, placing both front paws on Harry's chest and licking his chin.

"No, Padfoot, not that, gross," Harry laughed, hugging the dog. Animagus barked twice in response, then escaped Harry's embrace, bumped his head on Hermione's hand, and sniffed Helga. For a second then his tail stopped wiggling.

"Adorable," the woman said with amusement. "Are you here alone?"

The dog tilted his head to the side.

"Soon, you will understand our caution, Padfoot. It's important: are you alone?"

Cautiously, Padfoot nodded a confirmation in a very humane fashion.

"We left our brooms in the grove, around a hundred yards behind. Pick up Witherwings and meet us there."

"It's okay, Padfoot," Harry assured him. "We'll wait there for you and then fly home together."

It took a moment of hesitation, but eventually, Padfoot rushed back, and Harry ran towards their brooms. This time, Helga didn't stop him. Of course, when he found the spot, he waited for some time (that seemed like decades) so that Hermione and Helga joined just a moment before Sirius and Witherwings emerged from the trees.

This time, Sirius was himself. He looked a little better than the last time they saw each other. Less gaunt, more shaved, with hair a little shorter but no longer mate, and more or less combed, in clothes that weren't rags but quite fitting muggle attire of jeans and a simple shirt. He quickly came to Harry, embracing him.

"I don't know if I'm more relieved to see you alive or pissed off for what you've done. Do you have any idea how big of a mess that caused?"

"You're the last person to scold me," Harry laughed, giving the hug back. "Almost every person in England is afraid of you showing up near their houses!"

"Details," Sirius waved his words off, "But I'm surprised to see you here, Hermione. Not that it's not nice to see you again."

"It's good to see you too," she smiled in response, "You look better. Healthier. And tanned."

"Tropical sun likes me," He grinned, but then his eyes drifted to Helga, and he furrowed. "You must be Great Aunt Helga… You don't look like a Great Aunt to me."

"You should add a couple of more 'great' and switch the 'aunt' to 'grandmother' to truly describe our relationship," Helga responded with a laugh, "My name is Helga Hufflepuff."

"And it's true, I swear," Harry added quickly, seeing that Sirius stepped back a notch.

"What have you gotten yourself into, kiddo?" he asked.

"Just a normal Tuesday for us," said Hermione lightly, "To avoid the repeat of the situation, I'll warn you that my many times great grandmother, Rowena Ravenclaw, is waiting for us at home. And there's a high possibility that during our absence Godric Gryffindor and Neville already arrived. They're visiting this morning."

"And you hide Salazar Slytherin in the dungeon?"

"It'll be impossible to hide Sal wherever," Helga responded, amused by quite a stupid expression on Sirius' face. "But yes. He's around, but we don't expect him to visit today. It's better if we talk more back home."

Sirius looked confused and overwhelmed and glanced at Harry several times, but Harry was certain that his godfather believed their story. He just had a hard time processing and accepting it. But he shook it off quite quickly and outstretched his hand to Helga.

"I can barely believe this, but it's a pleasure to meet you. Sirius Black."

"You as well," she shook his hand, "and you'll get used to it quite soon, I'm sure. Now, mount up. Harry dear, you can take the Firebolt on the way back."

"Oh, that's good," Hermione sighed with relief.

"That flies?" Sirius asked with disbelief, looking at the broom that Helga held in her hand and was about to mount.

"Most definitely. You're welcome to try later if you'd like to. Climb up, Hermione!"

Harry waited a second more, observing Sirius as he found a comfortable spot on the back of Witherwings. It was so good to see him. To be almost certain that Sirius won't disappear soon because of some reason. Almost. A little part of Harry felt anxious that he would. That he wouldn't stay. That the Aurors will show up and snatch him.

Maybe that was the reason why Harry flew close by, to not only know that Sirius was around but to see him there. Flying along.

When they started to descend, Harry felt additionally anxious, wondering what Sirius would say when he saw Badgers Keep. What if he won't like it, and what if he leaves because of that? He called himself stupid to think this way and landed just before the border of the wards. But he watched Sirius for his reaction. The man looked around, for a moment hanging his gaze on more ruined parts, then on those already restored.

"You're renovating, I see. Some old home of yours?"

"Family abode," Helga replied with a smile, "It was abandoned for centuries. There are stables, and Harry may help you restore them for Witherwings. And there's a bedroom that you may use in the Badgers Keep, as Harry's family is always welcome around."

"Thanks," Sirius looked at her with a toothy grin, just like the others unable to resist her charm. Harry almost chuckled. "It's a significant upgrade to the caves and bushes I stayed in recently."

"And there's breakfast," Harry added. "We can take care of the stables after we eat. I'm starving."

"I'll help," offered Hermione, "I need to practise my spellwork. It's almost perfect, you know? But I still can't do it as well as Rowena."

"You're doing much better than I, and everybody's happy with my results," Harry commented, climbing the stairs to the Keep. The opened doors instantly revealed the presence of guests with echoes of Godric's booming voice.

The Main Hall seemed to be fuller when Godric and his presence were in it. Godric, Neville and Rowena sat around the table drinking tea, but they clearly waited for them with breakfast, as everything stood just the same as it did when Helga placed heating spells on the plates and bowls.

"Ah! The famous innocent prisoner escapee!" Godric said as they entered, standing up. "I must admit, I was curious."

"Wow," was everything that Sirius managed, looking at the man approaching them.

"Yes, a Gryffindor, I heard. And maybe even one of the true ones," Godric shook Sirius' hand. "Nice to meet you, boy. Very nice. I'm Godric, as you gathered. Here's Neville, my heir. You haven't had a pleasure as far as I know. And our dear Rowena. Now sit down and tell me all about this prison. I'm dying to know how it works and how you've managed to escape."

"Not really a breakfast conversation," Rowena frowned, "But do sit down, all of you."

Harry took his usual place next to Hermione, and Sirius sat right beside him, which was comforting. Rowena also kept more serious subjects off the table so they could all eat without unnecessary nervousness. What's more, it quickly became quite cheerful.

"So we've made the map. You have to see and tell whether we missed some secret passages or if there are some that you don't recognise," Sirius was saying, "I bet that there's a lot that you won't recognise. The secret passages to Hogsmeade, for example. It wasn't there yet."

"No, no, no," Godric shook his head. "Hogsmeade wasn't there, but the passages are older. We created three. Two lead to this exact spot where, as I hear, the village is located now. Before, the Druidhean Forest was vast, and in this exact spot, we had our village—a couple of houses, the tavern, of course. We needed routes of escape from or to Hogwarts in case of another attack. Those three were in the corridor on the fourth floor, in the well on the west courtyard, and in the dungeons, first level, fourth alcove on the right. But this one led to another part of the Forest, just in case."

"We missed the one in the dungeons!" Sirius exclaimed.

"And the other two are useless now," Harry added, "the one in the well is flooded, and the one on the fourth floor caved in."

"That's a shame!"

"But there are seven in total, and at least one is still working. But that's a new one, created for Moony so he could leave the castle during the full moon."

"And the one on the third floor is still in use. At least I use it," Harry grinned.

"And what about the Room of Requirement?" asked Rowena. "Have you found it?"

Sirius and Harry exchanged confused glances, causing the woman to chuckle.

"Well, then, I won't spoil you the fun," she decided.

"It's worth finding, I must say," Helga assured them.

Harry was impressed that Hogwarts had so many secrets that, currently, neither the Marauders nor the Founders knew all of them. He wondered how much more knew Fred and George and if combining the knowledge of all three groups could provide full information about the castle. But in all honesty, he doubted it.

"Why haven't you yet told Dumbledore that you're back?" Sirius asked. "I'm sure he'd be ecstatic."

"I don't think so," Rowena said sourly. "You see, Sirius, we don't like what he's doing with Hogwarts."

"You don't? But he's the best headmaster Hogwarts ever had."

"Not so much. For example, a sorting hat that sorted you among hundreds of others was not the Sorting Hat. It was a fake. And that is just the spice to the stew he was brewing in our school."

"A fake?" Sirius was suddenly uncertain. Harry could understand. After all, Sirius was very proud of his sorting.

"A fake," Godric confirmed. "You can try the real one if you'd like. I mean, I don't have it on me, but we could do it another day."

"Or I could fetch it," offered Neville.

"You're just anxious to try it on yourself," Godric chuckled, "Don't worry, boy, wherever you go, it's good with me. And you'll find out during the resorting, like everybody else."

"The resorting?" Now Hermione looked uncertain. "What do you mean?"

"We want to work with the students, and we want to do it our way," Rowena announced as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Hence, at the beginning of the year, every student will be sorted into their proper house. Including you three, of course. I don't know whether you'll all stay in Gryffindor or will all of you find a new house, but I know that every student will put the true Sorting Hat on."

"That's gonna be fun," chuckled Neville, "Imagine Malfoy's face if he's sorted anywhere else than Slytherin."

"Like Gryffindor," Harry laughed as well. "I need to see his face."

"It would be marvellous to be in Ravenclaw," Hermione sighed, and Harry got a little sullen. He suddenly realised that he, Ron, and Hermione could land in completely different houses, and that would be… Well… He had no other friends besides them. What if he'll land in the same house as Malfoy? And knowing what he knew now about being Harry Potter, he could only imagine the gossip and speculations if he landed in Slytherin. Merlin, how he hated being famous.

"About Dumbledore," Sirius returned to the topic, "Maybe he didn't know about the Sorting Hat?"

"Oh dear," Helga sighed. "I guess I will have to tell you everything before we move on. Harry dear, you and Hermione may start with those stables alone."

"Sure," Harry stood up quickly, wanting to avoid hearing everything the second time. "Wanna go with us, Neville?"

"Sure. Though I don't know if I can be useful…"

"I'll teach you," Hermione offered eagerly. All three of them left after just a couple more words were exchanged with adults, and Godric borrowed Harry's Firebolt. Apparently, he as well was bored of hearing the same story over and over again.

The courtyard was already warming up, and Witherwings took shelter in the corner of the yard, just next to the little stream that found its way through over the years. The stables weren't in the best shape, although the stones that created them were equally solid. Yet the roof was in a sorry state, the floor overgrown with grass, and there was no trace of boxes that should be inside. Fortunately, no boxes were necessary, as none of them knew anything about the conjuration of such things. But even considering this and knowing that adults would eventually join and help, Harry was certain they had a long day ahead. Surprisingly, it didn't seem like a long day full of tedious work. After all, he could do everything with magic and people he liked. And Harry was still in awe about having both.