In which there's a Quidditch World Cup, and it's much more fun through Godric's eyes than from Salazar's perspective.
Enjoy!
A_A
Godric was as excited about Quidditch and the modern inventions of Wizards as Arthur Weasley was fascinated by muggle technology. Since they met during the birthday party they rather liked each other. True, Godric was much louder and Arthur had much less time to invest in his interest, yet the level of passion was shared. Since the matter of heirs was no longer a secret, Godric and Arthur quickly agreed that a joint trip and staying together would be the best possible option. Molly saw it as a perfect opportunity and wholeheartedly supported her husband's new friendship (as she eagerly called it).
The conversation led them to a shared trip to Diagon Alley, where Godric had an opportunity to finally buy some of the modern wizarding inventions considered essential during 'camping'. Whatever it was, Godric was fascinated. He saw it funny that nowadays, people made trips to the 'wilderness', where they brought plenty of civilisation to simulate their homes and settle in the designated areas, often including a plethora of convenient necessities like running water and toilets that Godric wouldn't even think about a thousand years ago. He still couldn't understand what was wrong with Aquamenti if one hadn't had a stream nearby, and he found the idea of flushing the impurities to the rivers revolting since they could use a simple vanishing charm. He'd rather expect a development of magic in such areas than adapting the muggle solutions, clearly inferior. Yet - fascinating.
Instead of sending Hermione and Harry to the Burrow on the evening before the finals, the founders took them and Neville early in the morning of the 18th of August. When they came, the Weasley family was in the middle of chaos, and Molly tried to feed the newly arrived.
"No, thank you. We ate before coming here," Helga said kindly for the third time, which Godric heard only because there was a note of steel in Hufflepuff's voice. Godric didn't really pay attention to their conversation, looking around the house. It was astonishing! Everything in the Burrow was alive with magic and because of the inhabitants. Now groggy and disorganised... although Godric got the impression that lack of organisation was a permanent feature.
Finally, everybody was ready and they managed to leave the house and began a long trek to the portkey. At least Arthur presented it as long, but it appeared to be a short walk. None of the founders, nor Harry and Hermione, ever travelled via portkey. The perspective was thrilling for Godric, but the experience... Let's just say that he swore to go back using normal apparition. Even if he would be the only one. However, judging by Salazar's indignation when he landed on his knees in front of the Ministry officials, Godric wouldn't be the only one. Sal was grumpy ever since, but Helga whispered to Godric that she had enough of liquid happiness to make him bearable for the rest of the Finals.
On the other hand, Godric began to lose his humour and enthusiasm as well. What was wrong with those people? Why keep muggles around? Why force thousands of wizards and witches to hide their magic instead of sending a couple of families on vacation and securing the whole area against wanderers? Instead, the officials run around like chickens with burning tails, trying to force wizards to adjust to those few muggles around. The guests couldn't enjoy the finals to the fullest or had to ignore the regulations completely and bear with the nagging officials. Godric was of the opinion that the second group was correct, but Arthur kept explaining why this solution was better because it forced isolated wizards to interact with muggles at least for a moment and get to know their culture. Godric strongly disagreed, but a stinging hex from Rowena made him keep the opinion to himself.
However, as soon as Godric reached his conclusion, he left it for later and concentrated on the here and now, again excited. Contrary to Salazar who walked forward with such a grim face, like he would attend a mass funeral.
Godric managed to unfold and fold the tents at least three times during the last week, so this part went quite quickly, and they seated Salazar in one of the tents with a glass of Helga's herbal liquor. Thanks to that, when the children returned with water, Salazar was much more content with life. Godric - however - quickly ran away, skipping the second breakfast. As soon as the fire was lit and they sat around it before their tents, people started to gather like flies. Godric liked people and enjoyed their company, yet he was sick of 'Oh Merlin, you're truly them! I'm honoured!' So he left Salazar to have fun with that and went to look around.
And there was plenty to look at! The tents, the clothes, the children with their toys, the funny, useless little things to buy, and even a couple of quite useful things. He was just chatting with some boy flying on a little broom when he heard a loud, panting voice.
"Sir! Sir!" Someone stopped behind him. "You can't wear your robes around here. You need to change into muggle clothes. And we told everybody that children can't fly around here."
Godric turned around to look at the witch—a sweet little creature, barely grown up. She must have graduated from Hogwarts a year ago, no longer. She wore muggle pants, a shirt, and a jacket, and her hair was the pinkest pink available. On the lapel sparkled a crimson badge.
"Child, look around," he said gently, "It makes absolutely no difference. Sit down, relax, and enjoy yourself."
"I couldn't do that," she replied, "I'm a junior auror, and it's all hands on deck."
"Congratulations," Godric said sincerely.
"Thank you!" she beamed, "It's my first assignment! Now, there are regulations, and we all have to adjust a little."
"Your first assignment?" Godric ignored a part about regulations. Stupid regulations. "That explains your reluctance to take it easy. What's your name?"
"I'm Tonks... I mean, Junior Auror Tonks."
"I'm Godric. I heard it's not so easy to become an Auror. How long was the training?"
The girl beamed with pride.
"Two years, I started right after Hogwarts and trained under Alastor Moody. Do you know him?" Godric denied it, and she kept talking. "He can be a scary teacher, very demanding, but I'm proud to say he's absolutely the best. He was quite happy with my test results... I mean all but stealth and tracking. I'm quite clumsy. But he said they wouldn't fail me because of that. Having a metamorphmagus on the team is too precious."
"Are you a Black?" Godric wanted to know. "I knew two Blacks with this ability."
"Have you?" She raised her eyebrows. "I mean, my mother was Black, disinherited. But I'm the first in ages. I don't think there's any Black with that ability alive."
"It was a long time ago," he waved it off. "It was a nice chat, Junior Auror Tonks. I hope I'll see you later."
"Yeah, you too," she replied merrily.
As the boy flew away a few minutes before, Godric just moved forward, happy to avoid an uncomfortable discussion about muggle clothes. He met quite a few people on his way, had plenty of interesting conversations and had to get rid of a few more ministry officials one way or another. However, the most memorable person he met was Audrey Greengrass, apparently the aunt of three girls who attended the birthday party. He spent quite a lot of time with Audrey, before dusk and general commotion reminded them about the Quidditch Final that they had come here to see. Godric barely managed to catch up with the group.
"Where have you been?" scolded Rowena, quite vexed, "We were just about to go without you!"
"It's just a fascinating place, great people..." he muttered and quickly moved away. He saw two more red-headed young men around, who must have been the eldest sons of Arthur and Molly. "You must be Bill and Charlie. I've heard a lot about you from your father. Godric," he said, shaking their hands on the move as Arthur was already leading them towards the stadium.
It was grand and loud, and Godric loved the atmosphere. A little less the important people that Salazar was already talking with. Godric would prefer to sit somewhere in the crowd, but Salazar and Augusta were of the opinion that it would be beneficial to join the top ministry officials and start social life in a certain position. Godric didn't argue. But when the Minister of Magic joined them and began to stutter in his introductions, and Arthur and Lucius Malfoy exchanged a couple of impolite comments and shared a staring contest, Godric decided to change the company. He approached Narcissa and Draco.
"How are your potions going?" he asked the boy. He didn't know whether his question was a source of bigger pride for Draco or his mother.
"Very well, sir. I'm planning on trying the potion that is supposed to cure amnesia. I mean, cures amnesia, but there are only a few cases reported, because of the price of the ingredients. My godfather promised to supervise me when I was in Hogwarts. He's a Potions Master."
"That's wise you're not rushing to try, but wait for the specialist."
"Draco is a very wise boy," Narcissa praised her son. "Always attentive with his potions."
"It looks like the game is starting in a minute or two," Lucius Malfoy noted, approaching them.
"Then we better take our seats. Let me know of your progress, Draco. I have a steady supply of tears if you'd like to experiment a little with the potion you mentioned. But we shall talk about it in Hogwarts."
Godric returned to his group after the enthusiastic reply from Draco. He instantly located Rowena and leaned towards her.
"Remember what was promised for Barty's life?" He asked quietly, and Rowena raised her brows, clearly puzzled.
"Yes. What made you think about it now?"
"Have you thought about it?"
"Only a little," she admitted, "Tom has other issues to worry about right now, and I lack the modern knowledge."
"I think you should talk with Draco Malfoy about it. He just made me aware that there's a possibility to cure brain injuries with phoenix tears without direct application." As he explained, they moved with the others towards their seats. "He said about amnesia, but when you put your heads together, remember it, and include Draco and possibly his godfather. We don't know enough about the man yet, but if the solution is a potion, you could use a Potions Master... whatever that title is worth."
Rowena laughed softly, patting Godric's arm.
"I'll remember to ask for their opinion at least," she promised. "I like this boy. He's quite competitive, but I have a feeling he'll land in my house."
"Just a feeling?" Godric chuckled. A moment later, the start of the game was announced, and at that point, Godric lost contact with reality. Besides the one instance when Rowena pulled his hair to keep him seated during the Vila performance, he really enjoyed himself. He was amazed by how fast the game was, full of dangerous manoeuvres and fierce competition. What he didn't understand was the idea of fouls, but everything was softer nowadays.
The cheer surrounding this event, the amount of emotions, and feisty discussions afterwards. It was more than he counted on. But what was the cause of Godric's greatest joy was how freely Neville acted. He was as emotional as other kids and participated in discussions eagerly, leaving at home the shy boy afraid to speak his mind.
Contrary to Godric, Salazar didn't enjoy the Final so intensely. He remained calm and observant. Quidditch was just a game, enjoyable, but Salazar saw no appeal in it. He rather concentrated on everything else.
First, the organisation of the event. It was dreadful. Everywhere he turned, he saw things that could have been done better. The Ministry officials were overly tired, inefficient, and rushed everywhere to fail another task elsewhere. And the Minister... Gods... Fudge most definitely lived up to his name. This man was as vague, noncommittal, and inadequate as it was possible. Not to mention terrible when it came to maintaining beneficial relationships, manipulation, and handling truth, lies, and power with dignity. But that suited Salazar's plans perfectly.
Not interested in the prolonged displeasure of game and excitement, Salazar withdrew from the company just a little after they came back to the tents. He sat in the conjured armchair with a glass of Helga's herbal liquor and a book, content to surround himself with a silencing barrier. To respond to polite goodnights, he took the spell down and, later on, decided that putting it back up wouldn't be necessary. Yet, he remained reading his book. That's why he heard the commotion outside. Quiet and distant, but different from the noises of celebrations which reached him up to this point. He went outside to check what was going on, to find the wave of panic reaching their part of the camping site and fire further ahead.
"We better wake the others and check the situation," Rowena said from the entrance to her tent.
"Immediately," Salazar agreed.
Inside, Bill Weasley was already up, apparently awakened by the increasing noise. It took them only a moment to wake up everybody and send the children to the forest in the company of the youngest adult - Charlie Weasley.
As the six of them rushed towards the centre of the commotion, it quickly became clear that the crowd of wizards in front of them was drunk and aggressive, levitating four muggles over their heads, setting tents around them aflame, and shooting curses left and right. None of them, however, were deadly.
"No illegal spells!" Salazar commanded as they got closer. He got a snort from Helga and an unhappy growl from Godric. Rowena didn't look happy as well, but both Weasleys - Arthur and Bill - seemed surprised that such a thing needed to be mentioned.
The founders needed no other words. They were used to fighting hand-in-hand against a more numerous opponent. Each knew well what others were capable of and what they could do to make their fight more efficient. But the Weasleys didn't.
"Keep behind Godric and Helga," Salazar informed them, "I'll raise and keep the shield just before them."
"You do the best to watch for those muggles so they won't fall," Rowena instructed, "And where is your Ministry?"
She voiced the exact question that rang in Salazar's head, but Arthur didn't answer.
"Merlin's beard!" He exclaimed. "Those are Death Eaters!"
Salazar sighed heavily, raising the shield as he said. And since then, he could only observe. He knew well that Rowena was attentive as well, shooting down anybody who could possibly harm them or those who came too close to the shield. Helga and Godric attacked, firing spell after spell at such a pace that before their little group was spotted, a couple of wizards in front of them were on the ground. And even when they noticed - they were too disorganised and unsober to react properly.
It was obvious that Tom wouldn't order his followers to do something like this, and if he did, it wouldn't look so ridiculous. Yet it made it pressing to take one of them home and ask a few questions. The fight wasn't very intense. Many of the Death Eaters were already down, and over half of them disapparated.
"Rowena," Salazar called to her, "Take one of them. Now."
She nodded and went forward, shielding herself.
"What?" Arthur Weasley looked at Salazar with consternation, apparently having heard his words despite the loudness around them. "Why?"
Salazar looked at him, then back at the opponents, but didn't answer. He just used his left hand, without a wand, to nonverbally remove this short exchange from Arthur's memory. Bill was too busy levitating the muggles to notice, and Rowena was back in just a few minutes when the fight was already over.
"That was... pathetic," Godric said, looking at opponents on the ground.
"They were drunk," noted Rowena without conviction.
"Like that matters," Salazar snapped, and bound all the Death Eaters on the ground together. Only now have the ministry workers finally decided to show themselves.
Salazar looked at Crouch and Fudge rushing through their people. He couldn't blame Crouch for poor reaction time. After all, he was under the Imperius curse, and this was an unusual situation. Yet Fudge?
"Such an efficiency of your people," Salazar said acidly when the Minister came close enough. "Are you pleased with yourself, or should I congratulate you on a job well done?"
"I-I don't know w-what happened..." the man stuttered in response, "Dear Merlin! Are those Death Eaters?"
"Shouldn't you be the one to know the answer to this question, Minister?" Rowena asked, clearly amused. "Shouldn't you know and be prepared for every threat to the event you organise?"
"Yes... I mean, nobody could have expected that. The Death Eaters! Scrimgeour! Where's Scrimgeour?"
"Home, Minister," someone provided, "He went home just after the game was over. He left Shacklebolt in charge."
"Where is Shacklebolt then?" Fudge exclaimed nervously. "And what happened here?! Weasley, have you been here from the beginning? You saw?"
Salazar observed, with mixed irritation and amusement, how they organised slowly. After around ten minutes, Godric declared that he was going to check on the children. After another twenty, some of the Death Eaters started to wake up, and the organisational mess turned into chaotic transportation of the prisoners to the Ministry. Only then was it discovered that four of them were dead, which caused the chaos to grow louder. Two of the dead had their throats crushed, one sliced, and the fourth was a simple accident. He must have unfortunately hit his head while falling. Well, Helga and Godric were never too subtle.
"Dead! They're dead!" Fudge kept exclaiming with panic. "Johnson, keep the press away until I know what to tell them! How are they dead?" he looked at Salazar.
"Well, Minister, when you cast a spell correctly, and someone stands in its way, the spell takes effect," Rowena said, clearly tired of the display of idiocy.
"But what right have you to kill them?!" He attacked, and Helga couldn't hold the laughter any longer. In their closest proximity, people fell silent, and her mad cackling got even louder and more hysterical.
"W-wha... What right?" she repeated, trying to stop herself. Salazar hushed her with a pointed look, thankful that Godric wasn't around.
"Minister," he said decisively. As he continued to speak, he came closer to the minister and lowered his voice with every step, hissing the last words straight into the pale face. "Those people attacked and didn't mind their victims' fate. Defending ourselves and everybody in the proximity, we haven't used a single illegal spell. As such, we did your job. If you'd like to prosecute us because of this, you're most welcome to do so. I will be happy to inform the public about the failure to organise this event and protect those who came with their children seeking entertainment."
The Fudge was silent despite his lips opening and closing repeatedly. Salazar kept staring at him without a single blink. People around observed the confrontation, and Salazar - for the first time since they left for the Finals felt happy. He didn't dare to assume that it would be so easy to start undermining the position of Minister for Magic. However, it wasn't hard to make a fool out of a fool.
"I don't hear any accusations," Salazar said after a moment.
"No, no, of course not," Fudge got his voice back. "We're grateful, yes, that's it, we're thankful for your help. Very much. You may be sure I will mention your merits to the press."
Helga stood with a hand on her mouth, a little red on the face, and Salazar decided to not prolong the situation to not risk another fit of laughter.
"Very well then," he said, "We shall return home. Have a good night, Minister."
Salazar heard, 'Yes, of course, goodnight' given in return, but he had already turned around and started on his way back to the tents. His steps were fast and confident, and his back straightened as he walked with hands behind his back. He didn't look to see whether Rowena, Helga or the Weasleys followed him. He was certain they would.
"Go to your beds," Rowena said to Harry and Hermione, "and at least try to sleep. It was a very long day. Too long to sit around and talk. I'll leave a note for Sirius so he'll know that you're home. We'll be back in the evening, most likely."
"Could we go with you?" asked Harry instantly. "We'd like to know what's going on. I heard when you were talking about interrogating someone."
"You have too good hearing for your own good," Rowena declared, forcing a corner of her mouth so as not to smile. "Beds. Now."
"Yes, ma'am," Harry sighed, and both of them reluctantly moved upstairs. Helga and Rowena moved to the fireplace. It was very early in the morning. None of them liked the experience of the portkey and saw no need to wait for one. And so they left Arthur and his children and apparated away to their homes, discreetly agreeing to meet for the interrogation in - so-called - Riddle Manor. Although Godric tended to laugh hearing the name, Rowena understood why.
"It's cute that they already know when not to discuss with you," Helga said merrily as they exited the fireplace in the gloomy hall.
"They're fast learners, there's no doubt about it," Rowena smiled. "Seems like Salazar is already with our prisoner... Who killed those four? Godric or you?"
Helga furrowed.
"Godric, I think. The accidental one may be mine. Who knows, after all, each of them fell down eventually. Two died of overpowered Affligo, and that's Godric's move. And I used the cutting curse only once, but it hit just below the neck. Tom made them quite the uniform. It left only scratches, so I stopped using it. Too much fuss with aiming so precisely."
"I've noticed," Rowena said with a hint of approval in her voice. I turned to using Viking curses. They are much more effective when dealing with magically enforced leather. But I aimed to stun only."
"I chose them too!" Helga said with a broad smile and enthusiasm. "Don't tell Godric."
"I haven't lost my mind," Rowena chuckled.
"Hurry up, would you?" Asked Salazar from the top of the stairs. Helga held back her laughter, and Rowena put up a serious face with a pointed look.
The Death Eater upstairs was already conscious and his mask off, he was bound and seated in the corner. The man was skinny, his face long, decorated - if one could use this face - with long eyes and deeply set eyes.
"Godric still explains himself to Augusta?" Rowena asked.
"Most likely," Salazar admitted. "And this is Amycus Carrow. He keeps asking about the well-being of his sister as a condition of full cooperation. If you know who you have killed, it would be much easier to go further."
"No, sorry," Helga dusted the chair and sat down.
"It will be in the morning paper, most likely," noticed Rowena. "It should be here in a couple of hours."
Salazar looked pensieve, and Rowena was certain that he weighed the urgency of satisfying his curiosity with the mess of forceful interrogation. Rowena, personally, preferred to wait. But Helga said, "What certainty do we have that after assuring this man that his sister is alive, if she is, he will tell us everything he knows?"
"And what certainty do we have that he will tell us the truth to avoid pain?" countered Salazar.
"Oh, dear, he's clearly a Slytherin if he offered information for information."
Salazar looked at her, offended, but said nothing, just allowed his wand to slip out to his hand from the spacious sleeve.
"We know that Voldemort didn't order you the attack," Rowena said kindly, "Tell us who did. Please."
"Nobody ordered it," the man answered. Truthfully or not, Salazar pointed a wand and cast Crucio. Rowena furrowed her nose. He was unhappy with the noise but also knew how powerful and painful Salazar's curses were. She'd prefer to wait.
"Nobody, I swear," The man choked out a moment later. "We just wanted to. We talked and decided together. Most of us and the others joined."
"Most of us?" Rowena asked, "Who was it, precisely? And answer as if your Lord was here. He will eventually come and decide what to do with you."
Salazar didn't look very happy with her words. Yet somehow, that made Carrow become not only pale like he was before, nor just shaken after the curse, he whitened as a sheet and his eyes grew huge like galleons.
"So it's true. He's back," he whispered and quickly added. "We thought so. The mark darkened. It hurts sometimes. But he never summoned us. We wanted to let him know and send the sign that we're still here. Still faithful. That we want to fight for the cause."
"A bunch of idiots should never take the initiative in their own hands," snapped Salazar. "Names. Now."
"We talked. Me and my sister, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Severus Snape, Stellan Nott, and Cyrus Greengrass. Narcissa and Snape were against it, and he didn't show up. She did. And others came when we told them what we were planning. Lucius said that if you're back and you named three heirs, the Dark Lord must be back. He's your heir, after all. And it made sense that you haven't told about him."
"And hasn't it occurred to you that he hasn't contacted you for a reason?" Salazar asked empathetically. "That he would tell you if he'd like you to do anything?"
The man kept silent, and his face told Rowena that, yes, this argument was given during the initial discussion. She sighed. At this moment, they heard heavy steps on the stairs, and Godric joined them in the room.
"Augusta sends her regards," he said lightly. "Had he said anything?"
"Admitted they're badly trained dogs unable to wait for command or listen to reason," Salazar replied acidly. "That's what he said."
Rowena sighed again, knowing that when Tom came back, all of it will be his fault. After all, he was responsible for his subordinates and their training.
"Severus Snape," she said, "He opposed the idea, why?"
"He said we don't know the Dark Lord's wishes," Carrow admitted reluctantly. "Narcissa agreed with him."
"And you decided to act despite that. Why?"
"Lucius said that he might not know who to trust. That we should give him the sign. Something noticeable but not too much. We all thought that. And Cyrus said to not kill or do anything extreme. We decided that a couple of burned tents and a few muggles would be enough. We burned only those that were already empty, I swear."
'At least that...' Rowena thought and asked, "Do you know why he didn't join you?"
"He doesn't like Quidditch, so he wouldn't be there, and he wouldn't come on Lucius' whim, as he said," explained Carrow, "But you never know what's in his head. He avoided Azkaban because Dumbledore defended him."
"And why would Dumbledore do such a thing?" Helga wanted to know.
"I don't know," Carrow shook his head, "Truly. Ministry records are sealed. Even Lucius never knew. It was held behind closed doors. Snape says that Dumbledore is a fool and believes his story about great love or something equally stupid. I don't know exactly. He told it to Lucius, and Lucius believed him."
Carrow apparently regained enough strength to twist a little and sit properly again. Salazar stroked his chin, deeply in his thoughts.
"Do you believe him?" Godric asked.
"I don't know," Carrow shrugged. "He's slippery. But the Dark Lord always trusted him."
"Give me the names of others that participated in tonight's idiocy," Salazar ordered, and Rowena focused on remembering every single one of the given names. When Carrow started asking about his sister again, they went for breakfast. But after the papers came and the owl left to call Tom back to Riddle Manor, Rowena went upstairs to tell the man that his sister was alive and not on the list of captured.