The Sorting
"Keep pushing, Harry," Godric encouraged. "You only have to more to go."
Harry grunted as he hoisted another log onto his shoulder and began carrying it across the grounds to the large pile he'd already created. His legs were shaking, and his hair stuck to his forehead from the perspiration that had formed.
Godric was quite the taskmaster and insisted on pushing Harry until he was near collapse.
The workout regimen the man had concocted for him made Wood's Quidditch drills seem like a leisurely stroll around the lake.
"One left," Godric called as Harry placed the log down and wiped his brow. "MOVE IT!"
Harry's breathing was laboured as he ran to where the last log was waiting for him, and with great effort, he managed to lift it, though he cursed under his breath as Godric continued shouting words of encouragement at him whilst he sat on a comfy chair he'd conjured.
As he finally placed his burden down, Harry allowed himself to collapse to the ground where he did his utmost to stop his head from spinning.
"Take a moment," Godric urged, "and control your breathing."
Harry could only nod in response as he did what he was bid.
Even when his breathing was back under control, he felt as though he could barely lift his arms.
"Up you get," Godric instructed, dousing him with a cold jet of water.
If it wasn't such a relief, Harry would've been furious, but he could barely muster a scowl towards his tormentor.
"Here," Godric instructed once more, offering Harry a sword as he conjured a wooden dummy. "Ten strokes with each arm and alternate until I tell you to stop."
Harry groaned as he accepted the sword.
"It's heavy."
"The sword you train with should be heavier than the one you carry," Godric replied. "If you can wield that well enough, the real thing will be much easier. Besides, we've got to develop the muscles that you don't even know exist, but you will. Come tomorrow, you will feel every last one of them. Now, begin."
Harry grunted as he swung the sword, and the dull piece of metal hit the wood with a thud.
"Again!" Godric barked.
It took considerable effort for Harry to comply, but somehow, he managed to strike the target again and again as Godric continued encouraging him in his sadistic way.
"Switch!"
Harry quickly lost count of how many times the command was given, but by the time Godric relented and allowed him a reprieve, he truly couldn't lift his arms above his head.
"How do you feel?" the man asked, handing him a skin filled with water.
"Exhausted."
"Good," Godric declared. "It is good to push your body, Harry. The pain and exhaustion means that it is working."
"Is it supposed to hurt this much?"
Godric chuckled amusedly and clapped him on the shoulder.
"You'll get used to the rigour," he assured Harry. "But yes, it should hurt. If you are to be a warrior, Harry, you must understand pain, resilience, and be able to keep fighting when you feel as though you can't any longer. You have experience of that, but it isn't enough. Now, get your sword."
"There's more?"
Godric grinned as he nodded.
"What good is swinging a sword if you don't know how to do it properly?"
Harry frowned as he picked up his dull blade.
"What about magic?"
"This is magic, Harry," Godric answered. "You just have to learn how to use it."
How learning to fight with a sword was magical, Harry didn't know, but Godric nor any of the others had given him any reason to doubt them, so, he did as he was bid, and as one of his new mentors began showing him the correct technique for holding his blade, he was just grateful that he was no longer being put through his paces by the sadistic man.
(Break)
He watched as Arthur stared at the still-bloody ground from atop the ramparts of the castle.
The resulting skirmish from the Dane's arrival had been brief, but rather violent. None were left alive, even those that pleaded for mercy. Although it was unfortunate, Myrddin knew that Arthur had done the right thing.
For now, he needed to stake his claim on all lands, and giving mercy to those that would not have done the same for him was something he could ill-afford at this time.
No, Frode and his men could not be spared, but the time to show mercy and forgiveness would come.
"What troubles you, my king?" Myrddin asked.
Arthur released a deep breath as he shook his head.
"I do not feel good about what I did," he answered. "Those were men who probably had families waiting for them."
"And they chose to come here with the worst of intentions," Myrddin pointed out. "You made a decision to keep the people within these walls safe, and it was the right one. You will have to make many difficult decisions, Arthur, and they will always weigh heavily on you, but you cannot question yourself. You must be decisive and stand by the choices you make."
Arthur nodded.
"It doesn't make it any easier."
"And that is why you are an excellent king," Myrddin offered comfortingly. "Any man who kills without regret should never rule over others. Arthur, allow me to be frank. You rule over a fractured kingdom, and to heal the wounds, you will have to spill the blood of your enemies. No one is going to give you your kingdom, you will have to take it."
"I know," Arthur murmured.
Myrddin gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.
"You did right by your people here," he assured him. "Had you not, they would've suffered greatly under Frode."
"Did he really attack Winchester?"
"In the most brutal fashion," Myrddin said gravely. "The Danes are not known for their restraint. They attack, they pillage, and they leave nothing behind but desecrated corpses. They are not to be trusted, and the time will come to expel them from your lands."
Arthur nodded his understanding.
"You are the one true king, Arthur," Myrddin reiterated. "Being a king is not an easy burden to shoulder, but you do not have to do it alone. People will come to you, and you can surround yourself with the very best advisors, warriors, and even a wife. You will have the support, you will have the forces, and you will have a higher power on your side. Uniting Britain is your destiny. I have seen it for myself. Do you think I would waste my time on something I did not believe so wholeheartedly."
"No."
"And that should tell you all you need to know," Myrddin soothed. "Now, I must make a short journey away from Camelot. Something has been brought to my attention that I must look into. I do not expect to be gone more than a day."
"Is it something I can help with?"
Myrddin offered the boy a smile and shook his head.
"No, my king, it is merely a trivial matter for me, but an important one. Take some time to rest and recover. I will return tomorrow before sunset."
With that, Myrddin took his leave, determined to get to the bottom of what had occurred in Northumbria.
Something or someone had managed to drive the wraiths away before he was needed, and that was quite the troubling thought in itself.
The last time wraiths had come to Britain, it had taken the combined effort of more than fifty magical folk to shepherd them away over a period of a few days.
To think that one person was capable of expelling them alone did not rest easy with Myrddin Emrys.
It meant that someone wielded a power he did not understand, or that he could comprehend, and Myrddin could not help but remember what he'd seen in the stars as he looked across the sea of Tintagel.
He shook his head.
No, he would find an explanation for what had happened in Northumbria, and it would not revolve around the storm-bringer the stars spoke of.
Well, Myrddin hoped.
(Break)
Harry winced as he shifted in his seat, and Salazar shot him a knowing smirk. Even his teeth seemed to ache after enduring his training with Godric, and Harry suspected that the head of Slytherin house felt little empathy for him.
"You will get used to it."
"I don't bloody think so," Harry muttered. "He enjoyed every minute of it. He was smiling, just like you are now."
"Did you quit?" Salazar asked.
Harry was taken aback by the question.
"No."
"That's why he was smiling," Salazar chuckled. "Godric wanted to see what you are made of. It's one thing to be physically capable, but to not break mentally is another battle entirely. Godric will push you until you crack under the pressure, but if you didn't, it was a smile of pride he wore."
"He's still a git."
"Who wants to keep you alive," Salazar returned. "Believe me, Harry, Godric would not invest so much time into training you if he didn't care and want to see you succeed. His methods may seem harsh, but you will only grow stronger from them. Now, these are for you."
Harry frowned at the box of potions and shook his head.
"Godric said I wasn't allowed to take anything to help with the recovery. He said that I should let my body heal naturally."
"He's right," Salazar conceded, "but these are not to heal from your training. These potions are a concentrated blend of all the things your body has been missing out on since you were a boy. You are far too thin for your age, your bones are not as healthy as they should be, which means you are undoubtedly deficient in every part of your physical development. You are to take one every evening before bed for the next month. After that, we will decide if we need to extend your use. Both Helga and Rowena agree that you will benefit from these."
Harry nodded and accepted the box, though he frowned as Salazar placed a few books on top of it.
"We will continue to work together, but I would like for you to read these in your free time. They are books on curses, counter-curses, and some additional information you will find useful. Rowena will be working with you on magic in general. You and I will be working on more specific aspects of the magic I thrive in. Any questions?"
"I'm too sore for questions."
Salazar snorted amusedly.
"Oh, it will only get worse before it gets better. Perhaps a dip in the lake will help before your sorting this evening."
"My sorting?"
"We decided that you will be re-sorted," Salazar explained. "You're certainly not the same boy who put the hat on when you first arrived at Hogwarts."
Harry nodded.
"I'm definitely not the same," he agreed as he stood.
"Just one more thing before you go, Harry. I know it may seem rather morbid of me to ask, but if you could provide me with what information you can about the night your parents were killed, it might prove to be most useful. We need not discuss it, but if you could write down what details you can remember, no matter how insignificant it may seem, I may well be able to get to the bottom of that scar."
Harry frowned but nodded.
"I will," he promised. "I can write it down for you."
"Thank you," Salazar replied.
With that, Harry all but hobbled from the room, wincing with every step he took as he cursed Godric for what he'd put him through that morning.
Worse yet, Harry knew it would be the same tomorrow, though how he was expected to run when he could barely walk was beyond him.
Not that it would matter to Godric.
He would continue to push Harry until he could no longer push himself back to his feet.
(Break)
With each person he spoke to regarding what happened the night the wraiths arrived in Northumbria, he saw the very same vision in each of their eyes as they spoke; five figures, one smaller than the other four, a burst of blinding light, and a ghostly figure of a stag chasing the creatures through the night sky.
It was quite the sight to behold, and yet, Myrddin remained frustrated.
He could not make out any of the figures, and as he pondered just who they might be, he found himself at a loss.
The smallest member of the group had been the one to cast the spell that had driven the wraiths away, and Myrddin considered the possibility that it may have been a goblin.
No. A goblin would not care for such a thing.
The wraiths were not interested in them and no goblin would go out of their way to help humans.
A child.
Such an observation made less sense than a goblin intervention.
No child could wield such power let alone produce such an incredible feat of magic.
Myrddin was missing something, and though he was determined to get to the bottom of it, he knew that it would continue to plague him until he did.
Somewhere out in the lands of Britain, was someone powerful enough to fend off dozens of wraiths, and Myrddin could only think of one place that he might find such a person.
With a deep frown of concern creasing is brow, he took his leave of Northumbria to return once more return to where his journey had begun so many decades prior.
(Break)
She continued to mix her brew in the large pot on the fire and added a vial of blood she'd harvested from a mooncalf during the last full moon. The mixture within her cauldron turned a brilliant purple, but it was far from being ready, even if her effort proved to be successful.
"Another few days, at least," she murmured, scrubbing her hands in a nearby bowl of water containing lemon and nettles.
With nothing else to do but let her potion simmer, she resumed her seated position in front of the fire, closing her eyes so that she could focus on the magic in the air around her.
The forest was happy today.
It had rained the previous evening, and the plants and creatures here were satiated.
Harnessing the magic for her own use, Morgana began murmuring her chorus, and the power of the magic increased as it began filling every fibre of her being.
Releasing a gentle breath, she raised her arms and opened her to find that the fallen leaves surrounding her had been whipped into a frenzy.
This was why she preferred to live here.
The magic of the forest spoke to her, came to her when she called upon it, and accepted her as it had the various creatures and plants one would find amongst the trees.
Using her right hand, she direct some of the leaves towards a scorched trunk, and they whizzed towards it, embedding themselves deeply before the entire piece of wood burst into fire.
Morgana nodded as she raised her left hand, but this time, the leaves turned into a large ball of water that doused the flames.
A smile crested her lips as she surveyed the remains of her efforts, and a called upon gust of wind removed the debris in a single burst, though a blackened, smoking stump remained.
It had taken months of patience for the forest to accept her, and even longer before she'd learned how to harness the power she'd always felt, but with each passing moon, she grew stronger and stronger whilst being at one with nature.
It was a loud splashing in the distance that pulled her from her thoughts, and with a frown, she made her way towards the edge of the forest with her wand in hand.
The lake wasn't usually disturbed in such a way, and as she emerged into the open, she shook her head.
The boy was here again, but it didn't seem he was paying any mind to anyone as he bobbed around in the lake, bathing or readying himself for a swim.
Why he would do the former out here, Morgana didn't know, but she watched him curiously as he laid on his back and began floating across the surface of the lake.
For several moments, he stared towards the sky as he drifted, but as he came closer towards the shore once more, he suddenly stood and looked towards her.
It happened so quickly that Morgana didn't have time to hide, so instead, she simply offered him a wave.
He returned it before vanishing into the depths, and she grinned to herself as she summoned his pile of clothes from where he'd left them not so far away.
What she intended to do with them, Morgana didn't know, but she'd seized the opportunity, nonetheless.
Taking a seat, she waited for him to re-emerge from the water, and when he did, he pushed the hair out of his eyes before looking towards her once more. Harry quickly noticed that she had his clothes and he shook his head.
Morgana laughed amusedly, but undeterred, he began approaching her.
She watched as he stepped out of the lake and simply followed him with her gaze as he bore down on her. She hadn't prepared for this, and she oddly found herself lost for words as he continued his approach.
He was wearing a garment to preserve his modesty, though the observation was quickly lost on her.
She still did not know what to say, and she was rather taken aback by how casually he came upon her.
As he drew nearer, she noticed a litany of scars marring his pale skin, and she idly wondered what had caused them.
Before she could ponder it so deeply, however, Harry was standing in front of her and she was pleased to find her voice.
"It's not so bright to leave your belongings lying around unattended," she pointed out.
"I can see that," Harry snorted. "You never know what kind of thieves are around."
"I didn't steal them!"
"No?" What would you call it?"
Morgana shrugged.
"A harmless joke. I thought you were naked."
"So, you took my clothes?"
"I thought it might leave you in a bind."
"Or you were hoping to catch a glimpse of me."
Morgana snorted.
"You wish."
"I didn't steal your clothes."
Morgana narrowed her eyes at him.
"Like you could," she muttered amusedly. "Why are you even in the lake?" she asked, changing the subject.
Harry looked uneasy as he turned to face the water.
"I suppose I'm confronting everything."
Morgana was confused.
"Are you scared of the water?"
"No, nothing like that," Harry sighed. "It's complicated."
"I heard Godric say they found you by the lake," Morgana admitted.
Harry nodded.
"They did."
"So, you just washed up here?"
"You could say that," Harry chuckled humourlessly and Morgana scowled at him.
He wasn't being very forthcoming, though she wouldn't profess to be an open book. Since she'd come to Hogwarts, she'd only been judged for being different. Her classmates had branded her a 'Dark Witch' of sorts, but that was only because they didn't understand her magic.
No one did.
"Here," she huffed, offering Harry his clothes back.
"You're not going to try and keep them?" he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Morgana shook her head.
"Not this time, but you should be more careful where you leave your things."
"I'll remember that the next time I'm minding my own business," Harry grumbled as he took his clothes.
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing."
"You know, you're quite annoying."
"You're the one still spying on me."
"I wasn't spying," Morgana growled.
"What about the other two times?"
Morgana quirked an eyebrow at him.
Perhaps she had been watching him, but she wasn't going to admit that.
"I was here first," she defended.
Harry hummed and turned towards the gates in the distance.
Rowena was there, and once more escorting a familiar figure.
"What is he doing here?" Morgana muttered irritably.
Myrddin had barely visited in the past few years, but in a little over a week, he'd been here twice now.
"Who is it?" Harry asked.
"Myrddin," Morgana answered, her gaze not leaving the man as he and Rowena made their way towards the castle. "He is one of the reasons I came out here."
"What did he do?"
Morgana's nostrils flared.
"He told them that I should be expelled from the castle because my magic is unnatural and it could pose a threat to them in the future. They didn't listen, but I left anyway. He made his feelings clear to the rest of the students. He did it on purpose so I didn't have any choice but to leave."
"Git," Harry muttered.
He too was watching Myrddin interestedly, almost as though he was analysing the movements of the man.
"Because of him, my life became miserable in the castle, but in a way, it all worked out for the best. I'm happier than I have ever been."
"Living alone in the forest?"
"I don't expect you to understand," Morgana sighed.
"Try me."
She frowned at the boy and eye him thoughtfully for a moment.
She hadn't told him about her magic or the way she lived, not truly, but he didn't appear to have judged her once. If anything, their interactions had been rather amicable, even though they'd only met twice.
"Fine," Morgana agreed. "Get dressed first. I will not have naked boys around the place."
"I'm not naked," Harry chuckled, but he quickly dressed and Morgana beckoned for him to follow her.
"Where did you get the scars?" she asked interestedly.
"From here and there," he answered dismissively.
"Oh, so I have to show you my secrets but you can't share yours?"
"For now."
Somehow, the secrecy only made Harry even more interesting. Not that Morgana was truly interested in anyone else. Others had always proven to be disappointing, or outright cruel in her experience.
"Here we are," she declared as they arrived in the clearing she'd set up her home. "I wouldn't bother trying to find it again after you leave. I move it regularly. Besides, you probably wouldn't want to find it. If I wasn't with you now, you'd be dead."
"I'll remember that if I ever crave your company."
"Are you saying my company is bad?"
"Not at all," Harry replied as he looked around the clearing. "You've made it very homely."
"Did you expect me to live in a shack?"
Harry shrugged.
"I didn't know what to think," he answered. "You could've built a treehouse."
"A house in a tree?" Morgana said thoughtfully. "That might not be a bad idea. Maybe you should live out here."
"No, at least I'm safe from your prying eyes in the castle. I bet you know the forest like the back of your hand."
"I know it well enough," Morgana replied dismissively. "Anyway, this is my usual set up."
"A bubbling cauldron, a house, and dead animals hanging," Harry observed, "What's in here anyway?"
"Just a potion I'm experimenting with, and I have much more than what you can see. The house has several hidden rooms. Maybe one day I will show them to you if you stop being cynical."
"I'm not being cynical. I think what you've built here is great."
"Really?" Morgana questioned with a frown. "Most people just think of me as the evil witch who lives in the woods."
"Are you an evil witch?"
"I might be," Morgana answered with a grin.
"I've met scarier," Harry chuckled.
"Is that so?"
Harry nodded though his eyes widened as he caught sight of the smouldering remains of the tree.
"Did it offend you in some way?" he asked as he inspected it.
"I was just working on something," Morgana explained. "The tree had already been destroyed by the storm."
"So, you just finished it off?"
She glared at him again and found the smirk he wore to be rather irritating, but somehow charming at the same time.
"I told you that you wouldn't understand."
Harry held up a placating hand.
"Just because I don't understand, it doesn't mean I'm judging you. I know how it feels to be judged for what you are."
"You do?"
Harry nodded.
"We all have things others haven't taken so kindly to, I suppose."
"Well, people are fools," Morgana declared. "Just because they don't understand it, that doesn't mean it is bad. Well, for the most part. I suppose some of what I do could be frowned upon."
"Like what?"
"The magic I use that requires blood or other sacrifices. I am gifted with the magic found in nature. All aspects of nature. That means the leaves, the trees, the wind, the rain, life, and…"
"Death," Harry broke in.
Morgana nodded.
"Death is just another part of life, and I use only what nature provides. I hunt my own food, but I do not kill needlessly. Sacrificial magic is something that most stay away from, but it is one of the things I am drawn to. I don't know why, but I am good at understanding the magicks that others don't understand or vilify me for."
She finished with a shrug and looked towards Harry to judge his reaction.
"What do you do with the magic?" he asked curiously.
"It can be used for lots of things," Morgana answered. "It can be for healing, for strengthening and empowering yourself or others, but there is the other side to it. If I so chose to, I could use it to curse people or their families and harm them. The more time I spend out here, the more I understand the magic and what it is capable of. It is magic in its most raw form, and I have a gift with it. It's almost as though it speaks to me, guides me along my path. I suppose that sounds a little strange."
"It does," Harry chuckled, "but I know enough to know that magic is different for everyone. Some people can see into the future, others can turn into animals at will, and some people should never be allowed to be given a wand because of what they will do with it."
"You sound as though you are speaking from experience."
Harry nodded gravely.
"I have seen some of the best and worst that people can do. It's not always so clear who is acting for the best, but from my experience, actions speak louder than words."
Morgana watched him closely as his gaze hardened.
She knew how difficult life could be, and there was no faking the flash of several emotions she caught sight of in his eyes.
"Would you like something to drink?" she asked, changing the subject, "and before you ask, no, it isn't poisonous. It is nettle wine. I brew it myself."
"Nettle wine?"
"It's safer to drink than any water you will find in the forest."
Harry nodded, and Morgana fetched them both a wooden cup.
Pouring two generous measures, she watched Harry take his first sip and laughed as he grimaced.
"It's bitter."
"You get used to it," Morgana assured him. "You can always add some honey. It sweetens it well enough."
He did so and nodded approvingly as he took another drink.
"Much better."
Morgana didn't add any to her own.
She had gotten used to her brews and quite enjoyed them. Perhaps next time, she would even offer him some of the mead she was allowing to steep.
Next time?
Would there be a next time?
Morgana wasn't sure.
In truth, she'd not expected to see Harry again, and though he hadn't come to visit her, it had happened. Maybe this was something of a budding friendship.
He didn't seem fazed by what little she had told him, and he undoubtedly had secrets of his own. Harry was rather coy when it came to his own affairs thus far.
"If you washed up in the lake, won't your parents be worried about you?" she asked.
"I don't have any parents."
"You don't?"
Harry shook his head.
"They died when I was a baby."
That wasn't such an unusual occurrence in itself, but the tone of his voice spoke volumes of his parent's demise. It had not been of something natural.
Morgana was certain of that.
"Me either," she murmured. "I never knew my father and my mother died giving birth to me. I was handed to a muggle church and told to leave when they realised I was different, but not before they tried to expel the demon from me. I managed to beg for food for a few years until I met Salazar. He brought me to Hogwarts and explained what I was. Do you miss them?"
"I don't remember much about them," Harry replied with a shrug. "The one memory I do have is not pleasant, but I can't get rid of it. It's of my mother begging for my life to be spared."
Morgana was horrified by the admission.
"Begging for your life?"
Harry nodded as he released a deep breath.
"He still killed her and then tried to kill me."
"But you survived."
"Somehow," Harry snorted humourlessly. "I don't quite understand it, but I'm here."
"And what happened to him?"
Harry's expression darkened.
"He's out there somewhere," he answered. "Maybe one day I will catch up with him. Maybe I won't."
"If the stars align, you will," Morgana offered. "If magic wills it, you will get justice for your parents."
"I hope so," Harry mused aloud as he stood. "Thank you for the drink. Is there anything you'd like me to bring for you? I could steal Godric's hat. That might be amusing."
Morgana laughed.
"No, I don't know what I'd do with it, but if you come across anything you think might be interesting to use in a potion, I'll happily take it off your hands."
"I'll remember that," Harry replied, offering her a smile before leaving the clearing.
Morgana idly finished her drink as she stared at the spot he'd been sitting in.
Harry was an interesting boy, secretive, much like her, but their lives had undoubtedly been rather different, though no less fraught with danger and adversity.
He hadn't said as much, but he didn't need to.
Morgana could see it in his eyes, the weight of the many burdens he seemed to carry, and yet, there was a kindness, curiosity, and understanding she'd not encountered in many others.
She'd never truly longed for the company of others.
People had proven to be a perpetual disappointment, but for the first time in as long as she could remember, Morgana did not feel suspicious or hostile towards someone she'd met, and she didn't feel any resentment at the thought that she might just see him again.
(Break)
"She begged for Harry's life," Salazar mused aloud. "Why?"
It had been rather sobering reading the candid words of the boy of what had happened the night his parents had been murdered. Harry had even written some additional notes he thought might be helpful, mostly referring to encountering the man again at the end of his first year at Hogwarts.
How Tom Riddle had survived that night was an unexpected twist in the tale, and it only made all that had happened so much more alarming.
"She begged for Harry's life and not her own."
Perhaps Lily Potter had truly only been thinking of her son, which meant that Harry was in danger from Riddle, but why?
Harry was just a baby and was no threat to the Dark Lord.
But Riddle had been there to kill Harry.
Salazar gasped as the realisation and began rifling through one of the tomes next to him on the desk.
"He was there to kill Harry, not Harry's parents!"
The deduction changed everything, and as he began taking copious notes using the fresh observation, things began to fall into place.
"She sacrificed herself!" he choked "She gave her life so that Harry would live."
Salazar began laughing as he continued to ponder the circumstances, and though he'd undoubtedly made a significant breakthrough, he was still missing so much.
He was certain Harry had survived because of the sacrifice his mother had made, but it didn't explain how Riddle yet lived nor the cursed scar that the boy still carried.
No, something vital was missing, and Salazar once again found himself at a loss.
Regardless, he'd made significant progress, and he could safely deem that Harry was something of a walking phenomenon.
The magic, likely unwittingly implemented by Lily Potter, would still be somewhere within Harry, and if Salazar could guide him into finding it, then perhaps he could get a better understanding.
The danger to the boy, however, was that Riddle's magic was somewhere within him too, and was quite the presence given Harry's inherited Parseltongue ability.
They would need to approach the conundrum with caution, but given the right training, Salazar was certain they could find the answers together.
It was a frustrating to realise that it could take years, but it was the only avenue they had to explore to reach a certain conclusion.
With a shake of his head, Salazar packed his things away.
The others would be waiting for his arrival to sort Harry, and the man was hopeful that the hat would make the right decision this time.
From what he'd seen, Harry had grown to embody the traits that separated his house from the rest.
Salazar merely hoped that the boy had accepted them.
(Break)
Harry quickly realised that his observations had been correct.
In the entire school, there was no more than seventy other students, and they were not divided by the four house tables he was accustomed to. Instead, there smaller ones for them to gather round, and it appeared that the students chose to separate themselves into groups of others close to their age.
The only thing to identify which house they were in was a strip of fabric around the sleeves of their robes, though they remained the same as Harry remembered.
"Please, Harry, step forward," a rather solemn Rowena urged.
She seemed to be in not the greatest of moods, but she offered him a smile nonetheless before the familiar sorting hat was placed upon his head.
This time, it didn't fall over his ears, which meant he could see everyone scrutinising him carefully.
'Well, I must say that I didn't quite expect this when Godric explained your circumstances, Mr Potter. I cannot say that I have looked into a mind so different to the others that have come before you, but I am pleased to see that I will last the duration. Godric will not like that I outlive him. Now, where to put you. Ah, I see you did not favour Slytherin. I like to think that my choices are wise, but you had other ideas. I'm afraid that this time I will not take pity on you. It is clear to me where you belong, and I stand by what I said. He will make you great, Harry Potter.'
"SLYTHERIN!" the hat declared aloud.
Had it done so the first time he'd been sorted, Harry did not doubt that he would've been subjected to considerable ridicule, but not this time, and he felt no disappointment as the hat was removed and he found himself standing before the smiling Salazar, who tapped the cuff of his robe with his wand before pulling Harry into an embrace.
"I didn't expect anything less," the man murmured.
"You didn't?"
Salazar shook his head.
"Oh, you undoubtedly have courage in spades, but there is more to you than that. I expect we will see you truly flourish on your journey ahead."