In which the founders visit Hogwarts and meet Albus.
Enjoy,
A_A
A series of quiet cracks broke the tranquil silence of a stony hill. Located South of Hogwarts, the steep moors swam in the sun. The four figures who apparated ankle-deep in the grass stood silently, contemplating the view ahead. It was familiar and foreign at the same time. Hogwarts was similar to what they remembered. The main building. But a lot was transformed, it was more decorative, chipped on the edges by the passing of time, overgrown with vines here and there… Even altered, the view was more heartwarming than they could have expected.
On the other hand, the view surrounding Hogwarts changed significantly. The Druidhean Forrest shrunk in size and became Forbidden Forest. Limited in its range, often sparse. The grassland expanded significantly, now reaching far beyond the defensive walls, which were clearly far on the list of things to take care of: crumbled and full of holes. They could see new additions. Stone bridges here and there to allow free passage for people and the train, most likely. The Quidditch Pitch, which they had heard a lot about. The Hogsmeade village, taking the lion part of the hill north of Hogwarts, where they used to reside before Hogwarts was built. Then, it was hidden deep in the forest but now exposed and separated from the nearest trees.
"Gawking won't get us there," Salazar Slytherin commented sharply. "We don't know yet what kind of wards were placed and how to enter the grounds. Move on!"
They started the slow descent, following a ground path, not really sure to which entrance it would lead them and at which point the wards would stop them. Their eyes drifted to the castle frequently if only scattered patches of trees didn't obscure the view.
Surprisingly, the path didn't lead them straight to the nearest entrance but in a roundabout way over the Quidditch pitch. Crossing under the natural stone arch, Godric halted.
"Wait a moment," he said, "It's one of the border stones. Shouldn't we be stopped by wards already?"
"Maybe it's the old one," suggested Rowena, "They may even be obsolete. I've read that warding is one of the fastest fields to develop."
A dozen or so yards later, they stopped again, this time almost directly across the West part of Hogwarts, separated by the cliff, Quidditch Pitch and the courtyard behind the remains of the walls.
"I could shoot down every player on the pitch from here. We must be past the border," Godric said with consternation. "But that makes no sense for the wards just to allow anybody inside."
"We're not anybody," Salazar replied proudly.
"We should be from the wards' perspective," argued Godric. "The new ones cannot recognise us, and the old ones are clearly long gone."
They came closer and closer, passing one of the streams feeding the lake, the entrance to the Quidditch Pitch, and finally, standing just outside the Hogwarts gates. There was no trace of the wards.
"Something is seriously wrong," Godric declared.
"Warding stone?" Rowena asked as they were crossing under the main gate. This part of the walls was perfectly preserved, which made Rowana furrow with dissatisfaction: clearly, they kept it only for the benefit of aesthetics.
"Yes, let's go there first," Godric confirmed. With silent agreement from Helga and Salazar, they entered the courtyard. It looked splendid, and someone added a fountain in the middle, which Helga found to be a charming spot to relax during warm afternoons.
However tempting it was to look at everything more carefully and visit their favourite or private parts of the castle, the four founders decided to go directly to the Warding Stone. It would be difficult to walk the route from memory. Much has changed over the years. Previously, plain walls, floors, and ceilings were now richly decorated, and halls were filled with paintings, armour, sculptures, and other unfamiliar elements. At some point, someone introduced the window panes into the enlarged windows. That would be enough to confuse, and there was also the ever-changing layout of the corridors.
Salazar enjoyed the changes.
"It's more prestigious," he said appraisingly.
"A little too intimidating," Helga argued, "This should be home."
"And a school," added Rowena, "Don't forget that school needs a little prestige these days. It should make an appropriate first impression."
Godric kept his opinion to himself. He stood with one hand on the wall, furrowing.
"Let some of you try. I can't feel a thing."
"Balderdash," Helga muttered with slight irritation. She stopped her investigation of the interior to touch the closest wall. But she also felt nothing, just like she would touch a regular wall—no recognition, no humm, no pull, not even a single twinge in her fingers. Castle didn't respond in the slightest. Seeing her confusion, Salazar and Rowena joined, and for a single moment, four of them stood frowning at the wall.
Finally, Salazar took the wand out and touched the cold stones with the tip. And now, there was a reaction. A few weak veins of pulsating, brownish light briefly ran through the surface. The castle spoke its welcome tainted with a silent complaint and suggested the correct direction. Four of them received all the impressions simultaneously.
"What is wrong with this school?" Helga huffed indignantly. She was the first to follow the appointed direction. Her steps were quick and nervous; her stance said of worry. She touched the stones here and there as they walked, testing if some response would appear. It never did. Not unless she used her wand, her magic, to drag the reaction from the castle.
"Seems sick," noted Salazar. "It may look more prestigious, but the core is unwell. That's a serious concern."
"It must have weakened the wards. That must be the reason. I could bet my sword that the castle couldn't defend itself for more than five minutes!"
"Any attack hardly threatens it," Rowena sighed. We have time to study the problem in detail, whatever it might be."
Godric and Salazar exchanged glances, entirely not convinced that the school was safe from the attacks. But Helga looked simply worried, and she increased her pace to reach the Warding Stone as quickly as possible (without running).
They passed the corridors and another courtyard, resistant to the surrounding charm and prestige. They were closing in on the Great Hall when a prolonged meow dragged their attention.
By the leg of the decorative armour sat a scrawny cat with plucked fur and a mean, attentive glare. She meowed again. And they all stopped looking at the cat, that clearly wanted them to go no further and wait for something just where they stood.
"Such an intelligent creature," Rowena said softly, crouching next to the animal and extending a slender hand for the cat to smell. Salazar grimaced.
"Never mind the cat. We have no time to pet the strays!"
"And who might you be?" came an unknown, unpleasant voice. A panting man, resembling a cat to the letter, emerged from behind the tapestry. His hair, clothes, and skin were greyish as the cat's fur, eyes full of suspicion and sharp.
"The founders of this school, Goodman," Salazar replied haughtily, "Inform the headmaster we wish to see him in the Great Hall immediately."
The man huffed and puffed with indignation, looking equally disoriented, aggrieved, and rancorous.
"That you know!" He exclaimed. "I will inform the headmaster at once!"
He hurried back behind the tapestry, holding it for a moment for the cat to follow. They heard his muttering for a moment longer.
"At least someone is here," Helga said, unmoved by his reaction, "I began to doubt whether anybody's here."
They moved forward to the Great Hall, crossed it, paying little to no attention to their surroundings, and entered the little staircase on the side. It connected the teachers' quarters with the Great Hall through a narrow corridor located under one of the yards. It also allowed quick access to the lower dungeons and hidden there secret passage to the Druidhean Forest. What was known to even a lesser number of people, the staircase went much lower than it seemed.
To open the entrance one needed four keys. Initially they were in possession of the Heads of the Houses, just after the founders passed their rule over the school. When the position of the headmaster was introduced, presumably all four keys landed in his hands. However, the founders themselves needed no key. After four of them placed their hands on the pillar in the centre of the round stairs, part of the floor simply vanished, admitting them below.
It was a long descent, and the lower they went - the colder it got. The wand light moved on the walls and steps, first built from stone but quickly carved in the rock. Finally, their footsteps echoed in the cave.
The cavern was more or less octagonal and dimly lit, which was surprising for the founders. The gentle, warm light shone from the large crystal resting in the middle of the pedestal, in the middle of the chamber. Crystal was only partially transparent, smoky in its essence, brownish in the hue. Its natural, irregular shape was the size of a human torso. It seemed to grow naturally from its base. The altar mirrored the cave in its form, but as the cave was mostly raw, the altar was perfectly carved and smooth. Except for the meticulous runes hollowed in the surface, seemingly catching crystals' glow, reflecting it gently. The rows of neatly carved marks followed from the top of the base, down its walls and continued on the uneven cave floor, spreading the light. But where the runes stopped - the glow remained.
The exact same glow that Salazar dragged out of Hogwarts' wall in a different part of the castle.
However beautiful the room was, it worried the founders. The light of the warding stone was too weak and the smokey insides of the cairngorm quartz bore marks of rupture and fatigue. Previously perfectly even weld between the warding stone and its base was now overgrown with something foreign, seemingly unclean, parasitic, as the light was the dimmest just around the knar.
"What in Herpo's name is that," Salazar muttered as Helga stepped to the centre of the room. She reached to touch the warding stone, colder than it should be but burned up where the foreign outgrowth tainted the cairngorm.
Rowena carefully investigated the runes, frowning and tsking from time to time. Godric began with a wandwork immediately, causing the net of light streams to emerge on the walls. These were golden and created intricate patterns. Patterns partially foreign to them.
"This will take months to study and declare the problem," Salazar ruled when his appraising gaze assessed the magic surrounding them.
"Tommy brought us back in what seems to be the last moment," added Helga, her fingers gently caressing the cairngorm. "Hogwarts is in pain..."
For a couple of moments, they remained in silence, up to the moment when Rowena stood up decisively.
"I need books," she declared. "Every single book available about the wards and warding that was written since our time."
"Start with Hogwarts library, when Tom will be back, we can task Barty with collecting the rest."
"Yes, I could use his help..." Rowena mused. "I wonder if I could get him to assist me. He has such a bright mind."
"I doubt that Tom will borrow him. I doubt he has someone equally useful..." Salazar replied with amusement, leading them back upstairs. "But I'm certain Miss Granger will be eager to help."
Rowena smiled with contentment and nodded. Yes, she was quite happy with her heiress. However, she could not be critical enough of what she read or heard, that was a skill to be shaped and nourished. And, what she would never tell aloud to the three of her friends, Hermione seemed to be the only one of the heirs who had her sanity perfectly intact. Tommy was clearly disturbed and emotionally stunned. In the opposition, Harry seemed like an emotional chaos that only grew as he gathered more troubling news. And Neville was subdued and on the verge of disappearance. Of course, Rowena liked all of them, but internally, she gloated a little.
"The Hogwarts Founders," came the merry voice from over their heads. Someone was going down the stairs and met them just before they reached the commonly accessible part of the staircase. "I'm honoured, even if a little embarrassed to meet you in such a narrow passage. Would you join me for tea in my study?"
Rowena didn't see the man as she was at the end, so the curvature of the staircase blocked her view, but Salazar stood face-to-face with the man who greeted them. The elderly man in richly decorated, ocean blue robes, with a bright smile and twinkling eyes.
"The Great Hall will do just fine," Salazar declared, with a gesture urging the man to keep going. "And some wine, if you please."
"Oh, some can be found for sure," the man replied in a jolly tone. They climbed the stairs back to the Great Hall, and when the man (Albus Dumbledore, of course, who else could it be) started towards the head table, Helga protested, striding straight to the nearest of the four long tables, the Gryffindor table.
"No, no, let's just sit here," she said, already taking a seat on the long bench. "There's no need for such a formality. We always ate with our students."
"Such a fight they made to reach the honourable place on the right-hand side. Or at least the left," Salazar added with uncharacteristic tenderness. He sat next to Helga while Rowena circled the table to sit on the other side. Godric stepped on the bench, then the table, to gracefully fall onto the bench next to her. They all looked expectantly at Dumbledore. He seemed quite amused, and pulled up his robe to sit next to Helga and called for the elf.
When the creature appeared Helga and Rowena furrowed seeing its state. House-elfs used to be proud creatures, eager to work and easily offended. This house-elf seemed to be only eager to work. It subserviently asked for their wishes and promised to deliver everything at once.
"I assume that I won't make a mistake assigning names to the faces," Dumbledore said, and looking at them one after the other, he said, "Helga Hufflepuff, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Godric Gryffindor. I'm Albus Dumbledore, currently the headmaster of Hogwarts, and deeply moved to meet you. I sincerely hope that you find the state of the school satisfactory."
"It highly depends on what precisely you are referring to, Albus," Salazar said diplomatically, "I'm very content with how prestigious the school looks."
"Ah, I'm afraid I can't take credit for it," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "Each headmaster, many teachers, and an impressive number of students or alumni contributed to the current state of the school. Many artworks were not bought but came out of their own hands. Many of the books held in the library were written by them, as by myself, if I may add immodestly. Even if I never had the talent to decorate the halls with my creations, I believe many students would find it amusing."
"Yes, children and some men find such things amusing," Salazar shot a pointed glare at Godric.
"While others have no sense of humour whatsoever," Godric replied merrily, "Now. As Sal said, the school looks wonderful. But..."
"But we would like to learn more about its functioning," Rowena cut in, and Salazar internally sighed with relief, dreading what Godric would say next, probably exposing most of their plans in one sentence.
"Exactly!" Godric exclaimed. "I have heard that you're looking for a teacher for the Dark Arts... was it Dark Arts?"
"Defence Against the Dark Arts," Dumbledore provided, and Helga noted that the twinkle in his eyes dimmed a little.
"Precisely, I'd like to apply. Of course, we know you have only one vacancy, but one way or the other, we decided to come back for students and the school. We would like to get to know the modern generations!"
"Judging by the few we got to know, they are incredible," Helga added, filling her cup with tea, as everything they asked the elf for just appeared on the table between them. It caused everybody a little distraction.
"Books filled with blank pages waiting to be filled with true knowledge," Rowena supplied Helga's previous words. "I would be happy to read the works you've written, Albus. What is your area of expertise?"
"Transfiguration, mostly," Albus replied, "Although I dipped my fingers in alchemy as well. You would be welcome guests, of course. I shall prepare rooms for the time of your visit. When were you thinking of coming?"
"First of September, naturally," Godric announced. "We will participate in the welcoming feast. There's nothing like a good feast, won't you agree? And there's no need to prepare anything. Our rooms are surely just the way we left them a few years before."
"If you say so, I will be happy to comply," Albus said. But Rowena and Salazar exchanged a discreet glance, although it skipped Godric's attention how eagerly Albus tried to establish their status as guests and their visit as limited in time, they noticed that instantly.
"We will continue with our customs from before," Rowena said gently, "We shall sit at the tables with our students, and we would like to wander around and watch what is happening in the castle. You will barely notice our presence. Except for Godric, of course, he can't stand to remain silent, and it would be a wonder to keep him busy with the class. Defence Against the Dark Arts, you said. That fits perfectly the area of his expertise. He's a master of Dark Arts, and I dare say that even I am inferior to him in terms of knowledge in this area."
She noted with pleasure the glimpse of unease in the no longer twinkling eyes, but Dumbledore replied with a smile.
"In this case, I will send you the established curriculum for the subject," he announced, "I can refer you to some modern books on the subject as well, as I will expect the list of books required for the students to acquire."
"The library will suffice," Godric waved it off, "I'm sure it has plenty on the matter, and if something is missing, it needs to be supplied. I wouldn't burden the students with the costs."
"Well said, friend," Salazar agreed, "They pay tuition, after all. And I hear there will be an exciting event this year. The Triwizard Tournament, they say."
Albus nodded and slowly finished a bite of the chocolate cake before replying.
"Yes, an opportunity to strengthen the ties between the young of three schools. It carries risk, and the tradition was suspended, but this year, we introduced special preventive measures to ensure the students' safety. But don't let me bore you with the details you will learn soon enough. I must admit to my irresistible curiosity. How come you are here, in this century? Is it a matter of time travel?"
"We are brilliant, especially while working together, headmaster, but I doubt there is enough magic to support travel through a thousand years. No, no, we used much simpler measures recommended by a dear friend and mentor of mine, Herpo. A magnificent Greek wizard, you must have heard of him?"
"Herpo the Foul?" Albus' eyebrows rose so high, and his eyes grew so wide that Halga wondered how that was possible. Salazar cheered on the lost composure of the opponent, who, since today, was aware of having four challengers. The conversation was pleasant, but in his mind, there was no doubt that just as four of them loathed Dumbledore, he disliked them with equal strength. Possibly Godric the most, since the declaration of his mastery.
"Yes, although the nickname is not well deserved, and I prefer not to use it for the description of a dear friend," Salazar said pointedly. "And one of his inventions allowed us to be resurrected this year. A Horcrux, if you heard of them."
For a heartbeat, there was silence before Albus nodded.
"Yes, I have. The Sorting Hat, wasn't it?"
"Such a perfect guess," Godric laughed jovially. "Yes, the Sorting Hat. One Horcrux for all of us, and here we are."
"Weren't you concerned with the necessary sacrifice?" Dumbledore's voice was almost as cold as his eyes. "A wasted life? Four in this case."
Helga smiled gently and reached to pat Dumbledore's thin, wrinkled hand.
"That is heart-warming, Albus. Yet you must realise that the times we lived in were without the luxury of safety you enjoy today. Everything we had to do was to use one of the many deaths resting on our hands. We decided after the second attack on Hogwarts that not only the attackers but also some students and friends lost their lives. Fortunately, thanks to Rowena's wonderful invention, we were able to defend our students painlessly."
"What invention might that be?" Albus asked with curiosity thick in his voice.
"Well, the Avada Kedavra curse, naturally," Rowena replied proudly. "I hear that nowadays, its use is punishable severely, but it was the height of mercy in our times. After all, one suffers immensely while killed by curses and spells such as Diffindo, Incendio, or Carnifico. Not to mention Conculo," she shuddered.
"Poor Uilleam..." Helga sighed heavily.
"It was a thousand years ago," Godric remarked, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. "Well, it was a delightful snack, I must say. And we will be going back home. All of us just need a little time to roam the castle and check for all those sentiments and favourites. Speaking of which, I'd like my sword back."
"Ah, of course," a smile returned to Dumbledore's face, even if much more strained than previously. They said brief goodbyes before Dumbledore and Godric left for Albus' office, where he intended to remain, as the founders 'roamed the castle'. The three of them first went to check on their old quarters, each located just next door to the dormitories of their students. But they each took a different path.
Rowena wandered to the library to check the current state of the books. Helga stepped into the Hufflepuff common room and dormitories, eager to find out how her Badgers lived nowadays. And Salazar went deep into the Forbidden Forest to search for Vyrnith, the beithir. One of the two long-living creatures he left in Hogwarts.
In the meantime, contrary to the previous plans, Albus decided to accompany Godric to his private quarters. On the way he asked with great curiosity about the early days of Hogwarts, the reasons for its creation, students from a millennium ago. And he listened with sincere joy to the stories of the first Gryffindors, to the ideals they stand for, and antics they got into.
"And you say that most of the students stay in Hogwarts for all seven years before returning to their families?" He enquired. "There were no summer vacations?"
"Most of them, yes. There was plenty of work during the summers. After all, our students had to earn their keep, and we grew our own crops. We only bought what we couldn't produce ourselves. Few came from families rich enough to pay for their studies and able to afford travel. And we send those to work anyway. It was only just. And I tell you, when a hundred kids get seriously to work, they can finish in no time. And, of course, a lot of house elves were happy to find their home in Hogwarts. But those creatures were often more unruly than children. Some tended to visit their families if the family lived nearby, or they left for a year or two if someone brought the word that the family needed them. And, of course, they tended to jump like crazy from kingdom to kingdom once they learned how to apparate."
Albus nodded pensively, listening to his words, and then asked, "So you were living here permanently?"
"Most of the time," Godric nodded. "Sometimes, one of us left for some time. Helga often visited home for a longer time when her father was on a deathbed. Rowena left every couple of years for a couple of months. She likes her peace, and dozens of children don't really give you that. Salazar travelled often, but not for long. I only gathered the youngest once every two or three years. It took a couple of weeks in November and December, but we were always here for the Yule. It's not the best weather to travel, I admit, but it's a safe time. It wasn't the season for plunder and war, and with a wand handy, we were never cold or hungry."
"How have you travelled?"
"With carriages. Three, usually. Each was driven by one of my Gryffindors. I had one more for carriage to help with the children. Now, you take them as they turn eleven. But back then, I took them no matter what age I was. Some parents gave all the magical children together. Others never wanted to give them up. It happened that I found them orphaned by the war and took them no matter their age. It wasn't once when I brought a toddler to Hogwarts. What else could I do? Left alone, it would probably die before my next round."
"Much differed," Albus admitted, saddened by what he heard. "You will find that today, Hogwarts is much more of a school than a home."
"So I gathered," Godric admitted.
"And after you left Hogwarts, what have you done?" enquired Albus.
"Helga returned to Badger Keep in Wales, and Rowena reclaimed her home in England, although when she lost it, it was still Mercia. Salazar built himself a castle on the shores of Cornwall. And I went back to defend the borders," he shrugged. "There was nothing else I needed for a long time. I had a solid house near the Din Eidyn, but it's long gone..."
Albus seemed interested.
"Where are you staying, then?"
"With my living family," Godric explained. "They were happy to take me in. Quite insistent, actually."
"Wonderful," Albus was happy, and his eyes twinkled. "The other founders had more luck with their original homes, I hope?"
"Not really," Godric laughed, "Rowena's house is a museum, and Sal's castle is mainly buried in the sea. Which proves what I said at the time: you shouldn't build a castle right on the cliff's edge where the ocean constantly attacks it. And now Sal is staying in some old dump, pushing his heir for a better place."
"Yes, he seems like he would like something more prestigious."
"Not only more prestigious but the most prestigious," Godric shook his head with amusement. "And what about you, Albus? Do you live here the whole year?"
Albus smiled, extending a roll of lemon drops to Godric, which he gladly helped himself to.
"Yes, I live here, in the castle. I have a family house in Godric's Hollow, where I plan to retire when the time comes."
"Godric's Hollow?" Godric asked.
"It is said to be your birthplace," Albus explained. "It's in the south west England. Or Cornwall."
Godric boomed with laughter. He even had to stop and grab a bannister to keep his balance on the stairs. It took him a moment to calm himself.
"I was born on the banks of the river Forth," he choked out, still catching his breath.
In the atmosphere of thorough amusement, they finally reached the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, and Godric placed a hand on the wall to its right and pushed the doors that appeared. With a wide gesture, he invited Dumbledore in.
"Welcome to my kingdom," Godric joked.
The rooms were small and simple. As no one has ever entered this place since Godric left, the windows were never narrow and devoid of glass panes. They gave a little light, but when one looked out, he could see the splendid view of the lake, meadows, and forest. As they entered, they found the room quite messy and littered with old scrolls, books, and various weapons, from swords of different shapes and sizes to spears and axes. In the corner stood three shields: two brand new (if you forget that dating a thousand years) and one... well, it was half of the shield as one side was completely shattered. As Godric went into detail explaining the state of the shield, beaming with pride, Albus listened with full dedication, and only his eyes scanned the room.
He saw the bedroom behind closed doors to the right, a stack of maps, and another door, but closed. There was only one decoration in the room: a wooden figurine of a unicorn. Beautifully carved and running around the desktop, visibly agitated by the sudden loss of a thousand-year-old tranquillity. Whoever made and charmed the trinket must have been talented and quite powerful for the charm to last that long. But when asked about it, Godric said only 'my student', and that was all.
Changing the subject, Albus noted that the house elves probably visited the place regularly as there was not a speck of dust around. With a hint of amusement, he noticed a pile of a millennium-old homework scratched in Old English, where Albus recognised letters long gone from the English alphabet. He asked to borrow the pile, and Godric (amused by the request) agreed.
"You have a good relationship with your living family?" Albus asked, friendly.
"I'd say so," Godric nodded absentmindedly, more focused on strapping the sword scabbard to his belt. It was clearly meant for the famous Gryffindor sword. "Neville is a good lad. Only Augusta overwhelms him a little. She's a fine woman but goes along much better with Sal than me. They are both a little sour."
Albus nodded in understanding.
"Yes, Augusta has a rough edge."
"And she has high expectations that Neville could fulfil, but he's too terrified he won't."
"Yes, yes, I've noticed. A very quiet boy."
"He can be talkative just fine," Godric assured and winked. "It runs in the family. Started with my mother, and it looks like it's a strong feature."
Albus replied with a chuckle, and they left the room. Godric headed back to the Great Hall, and Albus followed. The pace was energetic as Godric himself, especially now, when they went down the stairs, and the conversation flew freely, now circling around differences between children that Godric observed.
"It's just like that with Harry," he said when Albus asked for examples. "A strong boy, true, but so bottled up. There's no release for all this anger he gathered. In our times, he would just fight with one or another boy. Today, you moderns expect all children to be so... gentle and placid. Some have Quidditch and nothing else. Do you have some solid exercises for the students? Something to release all that energy? Exactly. You have not. Besides running up and down those stairs, poor children sit and learn all day. We had all kinds of activities, and when their bodies were tired, they were patient around the books."
"What would you suggest?" Albus asked politely.
"Sword art, of course. It's demanding. We also taught them to use other weapons: spear, axe, bow, and staff. To know which weapon is best for a certain kid. Magical duelling, the true kind, not the arena bullshit I saw a week ago with Neville. The children in Hogwarts learned to ride horses, abraxans, thestrals, and hippogriffs. And they worked, as I said. Children did everything that needed to be done equally if only they were old enough to manage the task."
"Yes, that seems reasonable... in your times. Currently, society has other demands, I'm afraid."
"I gathered," muttered Godric, clearly unhappy about this state of affairs. This change of state of mind, the frown on his face, brought Godric to the realisation that the talkativeness he inherited from his mother was, in fact, a curse. Internally condemning himself for his stupidity and loose tongue, he said goodbye to Dumbledore on the stairs leading to the courtyard shortly after that.