In which we start a very busy Thursday. Harry and Godric visit the Ministry for a very specific reason and Rowena visits Tommy in Riddle Manor.
Enjoy!
A_A
Harry was packing his books. He already had defence, divination (fuck!), and potions (double fuck!) packed, but he couldn't find the Transfiguration handbook anywhere. He went through his bookshelf again and looked lower to see whether, by accident, he placed it among the books of Vince or Greg, but it wasn't there either. He started bending to check underneath the bead when he noticed that Vincent was staring at him.
"Hum?" Harry 'asked.'
"I was just wondering... You said that you won't be at Hogwarts today."
"Tomorrow, on Thursday," Harry corrected, confirming that the textbook was not under the bed. It shouldn't be. It should be on the shelf. He checked the desk and opened the almost empty trunk when Vincent spoke again.
"It is Thursday."
"What? No, it's..." Harry broke off. It was Thursday. Fuck the handbook, where did he put his brain?! "What time is it?!"
"Quarter past eight..."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Harry muttered, jumping to the closet to fish out some decent robe which wasn't his school robe. How, how could he possibly make such a mistake on the day of Sirius' hearing?! Leaving the school uniform underneath, he threw on the blue robe, squirmed at how it goes with his yellow tie, tossed the tie on the bed, dropped Pretzel into a pocket, and blurted out a quick "thanks" to Vincent before running out of the dormitory. He almost crashed with Helga at the entrance to the common room.
"There you are, dear," she said warmly, handing him a sandwich and a glass of pumpkin juice. "You skipped breakfast. Eat. And slow down. We're not going to be there sooner if you spill the juice on your shirt. That's a nice robe. Why isn't it yellow?" she asked merrily, correcting the robe on his shoulder. Harry smiled and relaxed, noticing that his mishap didn't cause any trouble.
"I've spilled some juice on it," he replied lightly. "Why is your dress yellow?"
"Sal calls it PR. Some muggle bunkum. He says it'll remind everyone that I am who I am. So please excuse me, but if I'm being proud of our house today, you are as well," she chuckled and changed the colour of his robe to black with yellow applications on hems. It looked like he could have left the tie on.
"There you are. We're as Hufflepuff as they go... You don't have to rush so much, Harry, dear. Godric is going to be late anyway. But I expected you to be up and about way earlier than myself. Especially today."
"I kinda... thought it was Wednesday?" Harry admitted, embarrassed. "I really don't know why. Sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about," she assured and urged him to eat the sandwich. So Harry ate, noticing, with a warm stirring inside, that Helga took scrambled eggs and fried tomatoes that he would usually eat for breakfast at Hogwarts and locked them between the toasts. And she made it taste even better than it usually did. Somehow.
"Good news, we're not taking a portkey today. Godric protested it as vehemently as only he can," Helga was saying, at a leisurely pace, leading Harry outside of the common room and up the stairs. "He's going to side-apparate you directly to London while I'll go to pick up Sirius from France. I know you wanted to see the oakwood, but we can visit him on Mabon, and when we're without Godric, we can take a portkey. I must say, it's very convenient. Not many wizards can apparate at long distances, and travelling with children usually meant using muggle methods without Floo Powder or portkeys. Well, some people could afford flying carpets, but importing those from the Middle East was troublesome."
"Why?" Harry wanted to know.
"You'd have to either fly on the carpet or use the muggle wagon throughout Europe and more. At the time, people were always ready to fight; there was no definitely safe route. Full-scale wars, skirmishes, raids, attacks, and regular bandits. Not to mention that the roads, if you chose a wagon, were significantly inferior to what you have today, as the Romans no longer sustained Roman roads. Local inhabitants tore the stones out here and there to build something else, and what was left was not defended by anyone. So even if somewhere they were actually usable, it was obvious they would be used, and you could expect unwashed muggles eager to steal whatever you carried...In theory, the carpets avoided all this road trouble, but in practice, they heavily depended on the weather. There was an impervious charm on them, so they wouldn't soak the water in, but if the rain was heavy and the wind strong, you were forced to land exactly where you were. And that could be anywhere. It was because the constructors were more concerned with the amount of sun threatening their clients than with rain. And while on the carpet, you couldn't take that many guards with you. But it was the general issue with transporting any kind of goods. Being a merchant was a high-risk profession. And there weren't so many of them. It was common to use local products and those you could make yourself. Even as a wizard."
As Helga explained, Harry finished his breakfast. He wanted to ask something but didn't, as someone picked exactly this moment to whoosh on the broomstick just before them. Someone who Harry didn't recognise, but Helga did. And reacted instantly. Three consecutive spells halted the broom, landed it, and... and Harry couldn't tell what the last one did.
"Mr Higgs!" She rebuked with her tone alone and swiftly added, "Are you aiming at murder?! Let me know when you're mature enough to fly faster and higher than my grandmother, and I'll think about taking the curse off!"
Oh, yes. Terence Higgs. The former Slytherin seeker. Harry bit his lip to hold the amused snort in reaction to the resorted Gryffindor's face. Meanwhile, Helga shot up two more sets of spells as two other Gryffindors flew down the Grand Staircase following Higgs. This time, Angelina Johnson and Oliver Wood. The final switch of Helga's wand opened all the doors on the way outside with a loud bang.
"Out!" she commended.
Angelina darted under her outstretched hand, but Oliver Wood tried to fly out. The broom moved at the walking pace of an elderly woman, refusing to lift higher than a knee level.
"B-but professor!" Oliver exclaimed, with all his might trying to speed up and raise his broom.
"I am no professor. Madame Hufflepuff is just appropriate. Ask your housemate for an explanation. Now, would you use your legs, dear? There's a draft."
"We're protesting the lack of Quidditch, Madame," Higgs said over Oliver, who tried to stutter a response and force his broom. "Every Quidditch player in Gryffindor."
"Well, better tell them to get out before I spot them," she replied and ushered Harry to go forward.
"Harry! Do something!" Oliver appealed desperately. Harry stopped, but Helga pressed gently at his back, urging him forward.
"What?" he asked, turning his head towards his former captain.
"Anything!"
"I'm walking," Harry grinned at him and ignored the rest of what Oliver was saying. Whatever could he do? Half of the summer with Helga told him more than enough about how probable was changing her mind. He wasn't naive enough to try and turn the river... Not to mention that she was right. Or that even if she wouldn't be, he'd rather take her side than Oliver's. And finally, he liked flying higher and faster than her grandmother.
Godric caught up with them almost by the Hogwarts gates. They strolled, talking about nothing important. While Godric took his time in the castle, he then sprinted. Harry thought it funny that, having recently regained his body, he was already in far better condition than most of the teenagers at Hogwarts. He didn't exactly understand how it worked. Hermione talked a lot about it, but he simply couldn't muster the attention to listen. What he gathered was that some sort of magical representation of a person was saved in the piece of soul, and on that basis, a person could be restored based on the Horcrux used for the resurrection. He got a little lost on where the magic took from the preserved form and where it relied on universal patterns. But Hermione said that if you made a Horcrux without - let's say - a leg, there was an instance when you could be resurrected with it or without it, depending on a multitude of factors. Factors that were lost on Harry.
"And everybody ready," Godric announced, slowing his pace to match theirs. "My lions complained about you cursing them. Little whiners. I told them to tough up. But the protest idea was quite good, don't you think?"
"But ill-considered. They must have thought about the consequences."
"Oh, they probably thought they'd lose a few points each. Though with McGonagall supporting the idea and Professor Dumbledore being soft on Gryffindors, they didn't really have a lot to be afraid of," Harry explained. "They'd get detention if Snape saw it, that's all."
"I see the discipline is another issue," Helga huffed indignantly. "Well, that will teach them to plan a little more carefully in the future."
"Possibly," Godrick admitted, although without conviction, "But even if they don't smarten up, you're taking that curse down when Quidditch is back. I hear they're my top players... Although Harry here used to be Gryffindor's best seeker. A shame you're not with us anymore..."
"He'll win for Hufflepuff now," Helga announced with clear contentment.
"And Diggory is better than Higgs," Harry interjected. "Especially since Higgs hasn't played since Draco Malfoy took his place in Slytherin, so it's been two years now. He was just in reserve. And Cedric was Hufflepuff's captain. You also have Gryffindor's captain, the best keeper in Hogwarts, and Ravenclaw's captain, who is an awesome chaser. Though Angelina is better… But you should be seriously sorry that you no longer have the Weasley twins as beaters, and cheer that they won't play against you in one team. They're not only beaters but a pair of human bludgers on the field."
"I like my chances with more than half of the team of good, seasoned players," Gryffindor stated. "And how about the rest of the houses?"
"Well, I'll play seeker, as we don't have anybody else. Besides me, we have George out of good players, but that would be about it. So I don't know how it'll go, to be honest. We'll have to make decent try-outs. Ravenclaw has it similar with Fred, but Draco is not as good a seeker as I am, but they have Katie, the Gryffindor chaser, and she's really good, and will work well with any other chasers on the field. Slytherin... Well, there's Cho as a seeker. She has an awful broom, but that's not a problem, as Malfoy sponsored a set of great brooms for Slytherins. And they have Warrington, who is a good chaser. Other players," Harry shrugged, "They're not really anything special, they were just working well with the team. And few just left Hogwarts. So, yeah, Gryffindor has a head start... if only Oliver, Cerdric and Roger won't tear their throats about who's going to be the captain... Oliver will get bloody if anybody stands between him and his pitch."
"They could duel," Godric mused. "Or maybe I could make them compete on the old-style brooms..."
"I'd just say that Oliver is the captain," Harry said, "But it's just me. And there's the tournament and NEWTs to consider, so maybe the problem will solve itself. Assuming there will be Quidditch."
Godric only smiled knowingly at that, and they crossed the Hogwarts gates.
"I'll see you in the courtroom. It's number four," Helga said, "Don't wander around the Ministry, you two. We don't need any scandals right now, and Sal will have our heads. Just wait for Augusta in the Atrium."
"Oh, just go, mother," Godric rolled his eyes, clearly amused by the warning.
Godric had never been to the Ministry before. Harry visited once, and when he did, he didn't really have much time to look around. But he at least knew to point Godric to the security stand to register their wands. They didn't really need to wait for Augusta with that, right?
"Dear Morgana!" a melodious feminine voice exclaimed behind them. "Godric, what are the chances!"
"Morrigan has always been my strongest ally," Godric replied in a tone entirely foreign to Harry. Weirdly... soft. And deeper. And almost purring. When Harry turned to see what the reason was, he quickly understood. It would be impossible not to understand. The woman was insanely beautiful, standing way too close for the regular meeting, and Godric didn't look away from her eyes, kissing her hand. The delicate porcelain skin on the woman's high cheekbones got a tint of a beautiful blush.
'Awesome,' Harry thought sourly.
"It's a true gift of fate to meet you today, Audrey," Godric said further, "Neither Harry nor I know our way around. Please tell me you'll find a moment to aid us."
She giggled. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Even more than a moment, I dropped by only to bring my silly brother something he forgot. I'll gladly spend some time with you again. Last time, our meeting was cut way too short, far too early."
"I couldn't agree more," Godric started replying, and Harry stopped listening, turning his eyes back to the man behind the desk. He heard them still but paid no attention to what was said. One more person before them, a man with a ridiculously tall hat that looked like it would tip over and fall to the ground with the next movement, but - contrary to reason and physics - stayed put on the stranger's head. Then Harry gave his wand to the man by the counter and tugged on Godric's arm to get his attention for long enough so the man would give his own wand. It was then that the woman noticed him.
"Forgive me, you make it hard to remember the world," Godric explained to the woman, she batted her lashes, Harry wanted to puke. "This is Harry Potter, Harry, that's Audrey Greengrass, you've met her nieces, Daphne, Astoria and Cereus."
Ah, so that's why the woman looked familiar. Though she didn't act like someone related to that many Ravenclaws...
"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am," Harry said politely.
"Oh, please, Harry, none of that. Audrey's enough. I'm going to give you two a little tour around if you'll allow me."
"Sure, why not?" Harry shrugged, "But is there anything to see?"
"Certainly! Most of it is just boring offices, however, not everything. Have you heard about the fountain?"
The fountain? How fascinating... Harry wasn't really interested, but as they moved towards the enormous construction, Godric seemed fascinated (although looking rather at the woman than the fountain).
"It's called the Fountain of Magical Brethren," Audrey explained, "It should symbolise the unity between wizards and magical creatures, but it rather represents what we talked about, Godric. How wizards deeply mistreat other intelligent creatures."
Harry was prone to agree, seeing the adoration in the eyes of the centaur and goblin as they looked at the wizard in the middle. The artist had a wild imagination, he had to be given at least that.
From the fountain, Audrey led them to the neighbouring room, one that Harry never heard about.
"Every object in this chamber represents a magical community with which Britain is in good relations. It's tradition to gift each other with something precious representing each country," Audrey was saying, and as they walked further, Harry started to see glimpses of intelligence and knowledge under the sickly, sweet looks she gave Godric. "We usually gift cairngorm quartz, but only enchanted, so they won't be actually able to use it freely, possibly against us," she winked, "sometimes Augurey eggs, although that's gifted either as a thinly veiled insult or for countries with extremes in precipitations. And, of course, various objects such as Ollivander's wands. He crafts them especially for this occasion from Augurey feathers and British oak. Whatever we receive is placed here for the nation to enjoy," she beamed, leading them towards the right side of the gallery.
To Harry's surprise, it turned out to be actually interesting. He knew almost nothing about other magical communities. Audrey seemed to know plenty. While Godric saw mostly Audrey and seemed to forget about the world beside her, Harry quickly got engrossed with thoughts of travel and foreign lands, dreaming about seeing the wizards using meticulously carved staffs instead of wands, wearing such splendid robes of silk and gems, and learning magic from scrolls instead of books. Audrey explained that they don't use such items every day, but still. They were so much different and promised so many...
Then Harry got under a charm placed on the tiara gifted by France, needing to be pulled back behind the safety line by thoroughly amused Audrey before he stopped emptying his pockets for the pedestal. Godric summoned his belongings for him, but one thing was left—Pretzel. The offended snake hissed with indignation after being unceremoniously dumped on the floor.
"I'm sorry," Harry hissed to him, "I'm so, so sorry... It was a charm, and I was bewitched. Are you alright? Come here to me..."
"I'm cold!" The snake complained, "It's cold, it hurts..."
"What hurts, little one? I'm sorry... please come back, I'm warm..."
But the snake wouldn't move, just complained, and Harry couldn't cross the safety line again. It took him over ten minutes to convince the little snake to slither back to his hands (when it became apparent that the snake wasn't hurt in the slightest). The little creature viciously bit Harry, and even if it wasn't especially painful and not at all harmful, Harry was even more sorry than before, as the little snake usually enjoyed his company. Comforting the Pretzel, he noticed only after a while that they attracted quite a lot of attention. Someone even made a picture.
"That's a really strong enchantment," Godric said loudly, explaining, "Everything's fine, don't worry."
"And have you seen this pensieve?" Audrey led them further, "It's one of the first, made by Busada Jaji herself. It was gifted to us by Tanzania a few decades back. While this sarcophagus was one of the acrimonious gifts from Egypt. You see, the sarcophagus belonged to one of the old Egyptian mages, but his mummy was already in possession of the British government..."
Harry needed an explanation of what the pensieve is and was amazed by the mere idea of the possibility of placing one's memories into a bowl. And he found the Egyptian gift truly amusing. Yet, half of his attention was stuck to the snake in his hand. Poor little creature, how could he just abandon him like that, and...
"The hearing!" he exclaimed suddenly.
Audrey led them straight to the courtroom four, but when they arrived, the guard informed them that they are not allowed to enter while the hearing is in progress.
"How could I do that?!" Harry exclaimed and lowered his voice under the condemning stare of the guard. "I was supposed to be here to support Sirius, and now..."
"It's not your fault," Audrey hurried to assure, "I don't know what I was thinking to drag you around just like that. Of course, you came here for a reason; I'm so sorry, Harry."
"If that's anybody's fault, it's mine," Godric announced definitively. "You're just a kid, Harry, and Audrey, you didn't know, and you had no right to know. So it's on me."
"But he's my godfather!" Harry exclaimed, again rebuked by the guard's gaze, "I should have remembered about his fucking trial! And I forgot about it twice today, and it's not even noon!"
"We all know what the outcome of this trial will be," Godric said calmly and clearly, lifting Harry's chin so the boy would look at him. "Sirius knows this as well. I'll explain that it was my fault, and he won't hold it against you. How about we use this time to buy him something to celebrate? Maybe we could grab a bottle of some good firewhiskey? Something sweet?"
And they did just that during the short trip to Diagon Alley. Harry was a little placated but sulking and feeling guilty, and the sickly sweet interactions between Godric and Audrey a little toned down. The mood lifted when, besides buying the mountain of sweets (and a huge bottle of firewhiskey) for Sirius, they also stopped for ice cream at Fortescue's.
When Augusta saw them, a dissatisfied grimace appeared on her face, and her eyes were steeled. Harry squirmed, hiding a little behind Godric and feeling so, so sorry for Neville. But, it appeared, the scorn and reluctance weren't meant for him or for Godric.
"Audrey," she greeted the woman coldly, "What brings you to the Ministry of all places at this ungodly hour?"
Audrey laughed melodiously and beautifully, but all different than before.
"Dowager Longbottom, so lovely to see you," she replied with her voice layered with false sweetness so thickly, that nobody could take it as honest, "I was just lucky to get to escort Godric and Harry to the appropriate courtroom."
"You took your time," Augusta replied sourly. "For the sake of this child, I hope you managed to act decently at least this once."
"Do we really have to have this conversation again?" Godric asked, clearly frustrated.
"Not at all. I'm just happy you two found each other… and many others. You are, of course, aware?" Augusta raised her eyebrows in Audrey's direction.
Harry wasn't certain what exactly Augusta was talking about, but he had a feeling. And Audrey clearly understood. What's more, judging by how she pursed her lips, she wasn't aware. Yet, she smiled.
"Perfectly," she clearly lied, "Well I wouldn't like to impose on you, seeing that it's more of the... family matter. I will talk to you later, Godric. Lovely to meet you, Harry."
This time, when she said 'Godric', it sounded completely different than it did before.
"Whatever have I done to you?" Godric asked Augusta.
"Just look at yourself!" she huffed. "Old and stupid. And you give this kind of example to Neville and Harry? These boys look up to you! Pull your brain up!"
But Harry didn't listen to what Godric had to say as he saw the doors to the courtroom open, and a very familiar figure walked out.
"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed, running to his godfather. "How was it? Everything's okay? I'm so sorry I missed it..."
"Cleared of all charges!" Sirius said, not minding Harry's sorry expression, rather glad to see him one way or another and pushing all his joy into the tight embrace. "It's over, pup..." he said, a little quieter. "I'm off the hook."
They got just a little bit of time together in Badgers Keep. Harry and Sirius talked about Hogwarts and resorting and about oakwood and druids. Completely unaware that Helga, Augusta, and Godric had a very stern conversation in another room.
As Helga took care of the matter of Sirius' hearing, the rest of the founders had their own tasks for the day. Bright and early, Rowena entered the Riddle Manor not only like she'd lived there but like it belonged to her. And as soon as she entered, the gloomy place looked even darker and gloomier by contrast. She moved graciously; her bright robes flew gently around her, and the diadem shone on her temples with its own light. Even the stairs didn't dare to creek under her feet as if ashamed of their state in such a presence. She found Voldemort in the library, the one and only bearable room in the entire house.
"I have something of yours, Tommy," she said lightly, amused and with acid notes in her voice. She placed something on the side table next to him. Something he didn't look at, staring at the diadem on her head.
"Yes, you do," he replied coldly.
"That," she said pointedly, raising her chin, "Is and always was mine. It will also remain in my possession, no longer a Horcrux of yours. This," she tapped the tabletop with her fingernail, next to the object she placed there, "I can give to you. Since you wanted something belonging to the founders, I allowed myself to choose the item."
Now, he looked down. At the hand mirror, made almost as beautifully as the diadem itself. The mirror itself was oval, the size of the palm, set in the delicate silver frame with a gentle handle. The most apparent decoration being a blue gem embedded at the base of the handle. Besides that, silver was almost completely smooth, as the patterns were barely drawn thinly on the surface. Eagle, of course.
"I took the liberty of giving it to you with your soul already attached," she said sweetly.
Voldemort clearly recognised the hidden insult.
"I suppose I owe you a thank you," he replied coldly, managing not to thank her.
"You are most welcome," she smiled, taking the armchair usually occupied by Salazar. "How is your research going?"
"Considering you've kept me busy for the last weeks, I'm not proud of the results. Have Salazar sent you?"
"No, he has a new project. Something more promising this time."
The muscles of his jaw twitched, and Rowena felt very happy with herself, thoroughly amused. Internally. She didn't want to overly irk him, after all, she came in peace to the person whose company she rather enjoyed. She always enjoyed the company of people who understood she insulted them.
"And whatever might that be?" Voldemort asked.
"Ron Weasley. He's Harry's friend. Sixth child. Sorted out of Gryffindor. Sal is convinced he can make a perfect Slytherin out of the boy."
"Promising indeed," he replied with a clear mockery. "You may pass Salazar that I don't have any good news for him. It seems impossible to reverse the ritual after it was butchered the way it was."
"Oh, Tommy," she said, faking concern only to see how his eyelid twitched. Then she added, "Let me help you. Sal doesn't need to know."
Voldemort pierced her with a furious, hateful glare.
"I'm perfectly capable of doing this myself," he replied sharply. "Now, is that all?
"No, actually. I require a venom of your maledictus and access to your laboratory and storage. Sal assures me that you have everything I need at hand."
Voldemort didn't ask about a purpose, and Rowena could bet that he was curious but more willing to rid himself of her presence. She waited patiently for Nagini to respond to her master's summon. Rowena didn't feel comfortable with snakes, especially one this size. And what this particular snake represents her worst fear. The picture of losing mind and self to the unknown and unstoppable force. Helplessness.
Maintaining her demeanour, Rowena carefully observed the process of collecting the venom. Nagini was calm. Calmed by the soft hisses of her master, by the gentle caress of his fingers on the large, triangle head. But when Voldemort extended the full vial to Rowena, she didn't come closer to pick it up.
"Could you... make her go?" she asked, and this time Voldemort smiled acidly.
"Why? She wouldn't hurt a fly without command."
"I admire the trust you have for a mindless beast," she replied evenly. "Now make her go."
"She's not a mindless beast," Voldemort was clearly offended, petting the hissing snake in a rather soothing manner. "And she understands you."
The level of discomfort grew significantly for Rowena, as she became prominently aware of the pair of eyes glued to her and the hissing of the snake suddenly seemed rather enraged.
"Are you taking pleasure in my fear, Tommy-boy?" she asked. "That's rather uncouth, as Augusta would undoubtedly say."
"It's a comfort, then, that I don't mind the crone's personal opinion. I do, however, mind her opinion," he indicated the snake. "I believe she would feel significantly better if you'd backed off from your hurtful words and asked yourself, would she mind to leave us alone."
"You're pushing it," Rowena replied coldly. She still expected Voldemort to dismiss the snake, mindless or not, but he and his pet seemed to wait with all the patience and time in the world. The minutes dragged on, going over the point at which Voldemort would do something and slowly decreasing Rowena's chances for even a slightly dignified way out of the situation.
"I apologise for my thoughtless words," she said proudly to the snake, aiming at the most pleasant tone she had at her disposal to avoid repeating the experience. "Would you please return to your... lair?"
The snake hissed again, and Rowena could swear that the beast was laughing at her. However, after a short reply from Voldemort, Nagini left the room. Only then did Rowena stand up to pick up the vial of venom.
"Your laboratory and storage?" she reminded him. Fortunately for her, Voldemort didn't gloat. Actually, she had an impression that he treated the insult towards Nagini with the utmost seriousness.
The laboratory was located next to the kitchens, with the pantry and storage located unsettling close to one another. The whole complex seemed all too convenient to poison somebody, and that was an impression Rowena couldn't shake off. On the other hand, she had to remember that it was, in fact, a muggle home adapted to the needs of the wizards residing. Therefore, nobody planned for space for pioneers. And nobody planned for murder. Well... almost nobody.
Rowena entered the storage, checking for the presence of ingredients she required. She ensured herself that the vial of venom was tucked safely in the pocket of her dress and that the previously acquired pouch rested safely on the leather strap hidden under her dress. Only then did she allow her wand to slide softly into her hand, and she pointed it at Voldemort.
"Avada Kedavra," she said, pronouncing carefully with a perfect wand movement. Her favourite shade of green flashed for a short moment, extinguished before Voldemort's body hit the floor.