Pursuit
What had followed the fighting in the small village had been a sobering experience for Harry, to say the least. He'd looked on as grieving mothers wept for their fallen children, and wives for their husbands as they were buried in hastily dug graves.
For around a week, Harry and Godric had remained behind to help the muggles, often using their magic to complete tasks that would take much longer without it when they were able to.
They'd repaired buildings, dug graves, and even helped gather the dead so that they could be identified by the loved ones looking for them.
It was an experience that Harry would never forget, and the stain of such violent demises was something he would never be rid of.
Still, in an odd way, he was pleased for the distraction from his own turbulent thoughts.
After he'd worked on healing his wound and he'd had a fitful rest, Harry had felt numb. It was almost as though what happened had been little more than an unpleasant dream, but the devastation, his bruised and butchered flesh, and even the lingering smell of death in the air told him otherwise that all of it had been real.
For the days that followed, he had not spoken much, and Godric had given him the needed space to process what he'd seen and endured.
Harry had not shed any tears, nor had he complained about the incessant aching in his chest and shoulder, which, even now, was still a blue and yellow bruise, but he had contemplated much.
The entire ordeal had come as quite the reality check, and though he knew there was little chance of avoiding what was to come in the future, it rested heavily on his conscience.
'In matters of war, Harry, it will always be either you or your enemies who live to see another day. You must ask yourself if you are willing to give your life to those who wish to snatch it from you.'
He wasn't.
Despite how miserable his experience had been for the most part, Harry would not concede defeat so easily.
Even against the large Dane he'd killed who'd done nothing to him save for the moment their paths had crossed, Harry had refused to die.
It just wasn't in him to quit, and that was something he had proven time and again throughout the years he'd lived.
"How is your wound, Harry?" Godric asked from his left.
"Getting better."
The two had left the village a week prior, and though a dull ache remained, it no longer bothered him more than the bumps and bruises he'd gotten during a Quidditch match.
"Good," Godric murmured. "It will get easier. I know it is a rather maudlin thought, but when you realise that taking a life is a part of your own journey, you no longer think of it the same way you once did. I was around your age when I killed for the first time. I came upon a man in my village attempting to slaughter a woman in front of her children, and I ran him through with my sword."
Harry nodded.
"What would have happened if you hadn't?"
"He would've killed her and then her children," Godric answered. "Now, what do you think that Dane would've done had you not stopped him?"
Harry frowned at the question.
It was the first time that Godric had broached the subject since they'd left the village behind.
"Much the same," he sighed.
Godric nodded gravely.
"Much the same, Harry. What you did saved lives, and that is what you should focus on."
He said nothing else on the matter, and the two of them continued on the beaten track they were following, stopping only an hour or so later when Godric climbed down from his horse.
"I can't stay in the saddle as long as I once could," he chuckled, stretching his arms above his head. "How has the riding been for you since we left the castle."
"Painful," Harry snorted. "I knew it would be but I didn't expect my legs to ache as much as they did for the first few days."
Godric offered him a grin.
"Everything here is much harsher," Harry continued. "I know quidditch had its moments, but there was always a potion or a salve to help with injuries. One of my professors even vanished all the bones in one of my arms and the whole thing was regrown overnight with a potion."
"Is that so?" Godric asked curiously. "Now, I expect that is quite the marvel."
"It was actually one of my ancestors who invented it," Harry explained, remembering when Hermione had informed him of the fact. "It was called Skele-gro."
"Do you remember how to make it?"
Harry shook his head disappointedly.
"No, but I do remember how to make something else that you may not know of. We brewed it during our second year to sneak into the Slytherin common room. It's called Polyjuice Potion."
"Polyjuice Potion?"
Harry nodded..
"It is a brew that allows you to take on the appearance of someone else. You just need to make it, which takes a long time, and then add a hair belonging to the person you wish to become. Each sip of the potion will last around an hour."
"That sounds as incredible as it does frightening. I can only imagine the damage that could be done with such a potion."
"Well, you can't turn into an animal using it," Harry warned. "My friend accidentally added a hair from a cat, and it did not end well for her. She spent days in the Hospital Wing after."
Godric hummed.
"Turning into an animal is not an easy process, and to do so with a potion, I can't imagine that easily being achieved."
"Are you an Animagus?" Harry asked.
Instead of answering, the man unleashed a roar as he leapt from the ground, turning into an enormous lion as he did so.
"I should've known," Harry snorted amusedly.
Godric quickly shifted back into his human form and beamed with pride.
"We can look into if you have the ability," he offered. "It might prove to be most useful."
"I think I'd like that," Harry replied.
"Good," Godric declared, "and maybe think about what knowledge you have that could potentially make you rather wealthy," he urged. "It may not be the most ethical use of your circumstances, but you were forced here, Harry. I would certainly take advantage of the few things I had at my disposal if I were you."
Harry was rather taken aback by what Godric said, and te man laughed amusedly.
"I suspect that our legacies have been rather glorified, haven't they?"
"You could say that."
Godric shook his head.
"I'm just a man, Harry, a gifted one undoubtedly, but I am far from the epitome of perfection. Rowena and Helga will happily point out my flaws. I can assure you, there are many of them."
Harry nodded his understanding.
"I suppose history has a way of glorifying those that do great things and are happy to forget that they were just people themselves. If what the Lady of the Lake told me of Myrddin, then I can't be so wrong. It is as though he is worshipped as god where I'm from."
Godric hummed disapprovingly.
"He too has his flaws, Harry, but his are much more dangerous than most other men," he warned. "Come, let us not ruin our day by speaking of him. There is a rather charming village not so far from here, and the cheese on offer is exceptional."
He once more mounted his horse, and Harry followed suit, falling into step behind Godric as the path they followed narrowed.
"Whoa."
Harry watched as Godric snatched a piece of parchment that had been nailed to one of the trees from the trunk and tutted disappointedly.
"What is it?" he asked.
Godric said nothing as he handed the piece of parchment to him.
"Wanted for practicing witchcraft," he read, his gaze shifting to the crude drawing of a woman that had been sketched below the notice.
"It happens often," Godric sighed, "and it only seems to become more common. People are dragged from their homes and executed."
"Why don't magicals defend themselves?" Harry asked confusedly.
Godric released a deep breath.
"Most have no means to," he said darkly. "Small children who express their magic accidentally are usually taken by the church and disposed of as monsters. The older witches and wizards who manage to hide what they are usually do not have a wand. We are doing our best to find them as children, Harry, but I am afraid it is quite the task. We have people helping, but we rely on word of mouth to locate these children. What we need is a way of finding these children before it is too late and explaining to their parents that they have nothing to fear from them. Salazar has his own ideas altogether. He would see we take the children and wipe the memories of the parents. I would rather we didn't. I know that it is better for our kind to exist on secret as best we can, but taking children from their families should only be a last resort."
Harry nodded his understanding, though he empathised with Salazar's views on the situation.
He had been raised in a house where he was despised, but equally, Hermione's parents, along with many others he knew, had accepted what their children were.
It was quite conundrum indeed.
"We had a trace," he explained. "It was a way that the Ministry of Magic could locate children using underage magic. I think that is how the students born to muggles were found and offered their place at Hogwarts. I don't fully understand how it worked," he added apologetically.
Godric nodded thoughtfully.
"That is quite the idea," he mused aloud. "Perhaps between me and the others, we can find a way of establishing it. It would certainly help if we had the support of the Wizard's Council."
He seemed to ponder it for a moment before shaking his head.
"That is for another day, Harry," he declared. "Come, let us make way to our destination."
Harry burned the piece of parchment he held before once again following Godric, and it wasn't all that much further along the path that they spotted a large group of people ahead of them entering the village.
"Well, it seems that they found their witch," Godric sighed, nodding towards the woman who had been tied up and was held aloft the baying party.
"They're going to kill her?"
"Not immediately," Godric grumbled. "But I expect they will do so in the morning after a lengthy interrogation."
"Then we should help her."
"We should," Godric agreed. "And we will."
(Break)
It was a tired and pensive Salazar who had returned from his venture into Athens in the early hours, and though he had done his utmost to get some much-needed rest, he found that sleep eluded him.
What he'd learned was rather troubling, but somewhat a relief at the same time.
As he leaned on the parapet of the tower Rowena often used to consult the stars, he pondered the conversation he'd shared with a man he'd hoped to not see again.
Athens had always been one of his favourite places to visit, and though it remained so, he'd cursed the labyrinth of streets as he'd gone about his way to locating the contact he'd not seen for the better part of two decades.
He'd met Castor in one of the inns during his travels he'd taken when he'd been inclined to do so when the students had left the castle for the summer.
The man had bought him a cup of wine, and the two of them had quickly fallen into an easy conversation about the magic each had studied.
Castor had been particularly interested in his ability in Parseltongue and had informed Salazar that he had something that may be of interest to him.
He'd need only agree to translate something for him, and the original would be his for a nominal fee.
Salazar had been curious, though he had not expected to be handed a collection of books hand-written by the infamous Herpo the Foul.
Of course, he'd agreed to the proposal, but no sooner had he began reading the volumes Castor had given him, Salazar knew that he could not divulge all that had been written in good conscience.
He was no stranger to the less pleasant aspects of magic and had pursued much of it during his own studies, but Herpo had taken things far beyond decency.
Salazar quickly suspected that Castor hoped to emulate the man's feats, and he could not allow it.
No man should wield such a power, and certainly none as unsavoury as his companion.
With this in mind, he had completed the translations, though he had made some vital substitutions on the things he believed Castor should not be allowed to dabble in, but he'd given the man enough to be satisfied with.
Still, he'd proven difficult to locate, but Salazar was as resourceful and cunning as they came, and he eventually spotted his associate plying his trade in one of the taverns that attracted some interesting characters.
"Hello, Castor."
The man's eyes widened at the sight of Salazar, and his gaze flittered around the room, seeking a way to make a hasty exit.
Salazar chuckled and shook his head.
"We both know that it would do no good. There is not a place you can hope to hide from me. Besides, I merely wish to pick your brain. I am not here for any other purpose than a conversation."
Castor's expression morphed to one of relief and he gestured for Salazar to join him before he erected a privacy charm around the table.
"How may I help you, old friend?" he asked.
"Horcruxes."
The expression of horror returned, and Salazar placed a firm hand on his wrist, not missing the red glint in Castor's eyes.
"I couldn't care less if you chose to make one. That is no concern of mine, but I need your insight. There is no other man alive that can tell me more about the damned things than you."
Castor swallowed deeply.
"What is it you wish to know? Do you intend to make one for yourself?"
"Perish the thought," Salazar said dismissively. "I just need to know what would happen if someone was to use a live vessel to store a fragment of their soul rather than an inane one."
Castor frowned deeply and pondered it for a moment.
"I cannot say," he murmured. "Only a damned fool would do so. What live vessel are we discussing?"
"A person."
Castor laughed uproariously.
"No man in their right mind would do it, not if they wished to preserve the piece of soul. Taking a fragment of your soul and placing it in another whose soul is intact would be damned stupid indeed."
"Why?"
"Well, firstly, you have to account for the imbalance. The soul itself would either be destroyed by the host soul, or the fragment would replace a part of the host soul of equal value to itself."
"What do you believe is most likely?"
Castor said nothing for several moments as he removed a piece of parchment and a quill from within his robes.
He began writing down a complex formula and repeated the process around half a dozen times before leaning back in his chair.
"It is difficult to be certain, but I suppose it would depend on both the host and foreign soul piece. If the host soul can sense the benefit of allowing itself to be partially destroyed to be replaced by the invader, then it may well occur. Or, if it only sees it as a burden, it will destroy it. I am assuming that you being here means that you suspect such a thing has happened."
Salazar nodded thoughtfully.
"So, you do not believe that the foreign soul piece could be a threat to the host?"
Castor shook his head.
"I do not," he said with certainty. "Not even the most powerful of fragments could hope to replace or destroy a soul that is intact. I would say it is as close to a magical impossibility as you can get, but I do not expect such an occurrence can happen without consequence. Tell me, does the host show any similarities to that of the one who split their soul?"
"Yes," Salazar answered worriedly. "He has taken on some traits, magically, and perhaps in nature."
Although he could not be certain of the latter, Salazar could not ignore the similarities he saw in Harry and himself, so he thought it best to assume that the soul piece had indeed impacted more than just the boys' magic.
Castor hummed.
"Then I would assume, mind, I could be wrong, that the foreign soul piece has replaced a part of his own and the two have already become one or will in the future."
"Which would not be detrimental to the boy?"
"No," Castor denied. "If anything, it may well prove to be quite the boon, but I would monitor the subject closely. This is an unprecedented anomaly, and although my calculations do not suggest any potential fallout, this is exceedingly obscure and unchartered magic."
Salazar nodded gratefully, relieved by what he'd heard,
With what he'd seen of Harry, it appeared that the boys' soul had indeed taken on that piece left behind by Tom Riddle, or it would.
Regardless, with how uncertain the magic was, he would remain optimistically cautious.
Salazar felt better having discussed the matter with Castor, even if the man was a blasted fool for what he'd done to himself.
Shaking his head, he realised that the sun was beginning to rise, and he'd yet to sleep.
Nonetheless, it would be a while before he managed to rest.
As his gaze flickered towards the edge of the lake, he spotted a familiar figure sitting by the shore in the distance.
Releasing a deep breath, he returned to the castle, though he quickly took his leave of it via the front door and made his way towards the girl.
It was unlike her to venture out of the forest, even when the rest of the students had left home for the summer.
Something was undoubtedly on her mind, and though she would likely deny it, Salazar knew that she might just need someone to talk to.
After all, everyone needed someone they could turn to from time to time.
(Break)
It was rather odd to be crouched in a large shrub near to where the unconscious woman had been carried by the mob, but it was where Harry found himself along with the observing Godric.
"What do we do?" Harry asked.
"Well, he could just storm the place and cut them all down," Godric suggested with a mischievous smirk.
"We both know that is a terrible idea."
Godric nodded his agreement.
"What would you suggest?" he asked curiously.
"I say we sneak in and out, if possible. I don't think harming anyone here will do. We can stun them if necessary."
Godric frowned thoughtfully before he nodded.
"Then that is what we shall do," he decided. "How are you coming along with your disillusionment charm?"
"I think it will be enough to not be noticed by the muggles."
"Good," Godric declared, "because you are going in there to retrieve her. You're still much smaller than me and less likely to be caught. I will keep watch and make the sound of a wandering albatross if I see anyone coming."
"What does a wandering albatross sound like?"
Godric rolled his eyes.
"What animal sounds do you know?" he huffed.
"Maybe try an owl," Harry urged. "At least make it native to this country."
"Fine," Godric muttered. "What's wrong?"
Harry shook his head.
"I just remembered my own owl that I left behind," he said sadly. "Hedwig. She was a snowy owl and was with me through the difficult summers with my relatives."
Godric gave his shoulder a squeeze.
"Companions can never be replaced in our hearts," he replied sympathetically. "I know what it is like to lose my fair share of creatures I shared a special bond with. Perhaps we will find another for you, in good time."
Harry nodded, though he wasn't sure he could bring himself to even consider another animal just yet.
"So, I'm going in?" he asked, gesturing to the building the woman was being held in.
Only two others had entered with her, but Harry was not keen on alerting the village to their presence, let alone being caught with the woman whilst they were fleeing.
"Yes," Godric confirmed. "I will stall any other who may come this way."
With a nod, Harry applied his disillusionment charm.
"How is it?"
"Far from perfect, but good enough," Godric assured him. "Don't linger, Harry. The sun will be coming up soon."
Bracing himself, Harry carefully stepped out of the undergrowth, doing his utmost not to disturb the branches before creeping towards the building.
As he approached, he could hear voices coming within, and when he peered through the window, he saw the victim tied to a chair whilst two men berated her.
"TELL THE TRUTH!" one of them commanded. "ARE YOU A WITCH?"
"No!" the woman sobbed. "I was born here! You knew my mother!"
The man struck her with the back of his hand, and turned towards the fireplace, where half a dozen iron rods were resting within the flames.
Placing a glove on his hand, he reached for one, and Harry had seen enough.
Hastily, but calmly, he approached the door and knocked boldly on it.
"Who can that be?" one of the men muttered.
Harry took a step to his left as he heard the footsteps draw nearer, and as the door opened, the man who had struck the woman peered out, frowning when he saw that no one was there.
"Who is it?" he demanded. "Come on, this is no time for games!"
He stepped out clutching a glowing rod, and Harry pressed himself against the wall before sliding into the small shack, where he backed himself into the corner so not to be discovered.
"Bloody kids," the man grumbled as he entered, placing the rod back into the fire. "Where were we?"
"You was getting' 'er to talk," the other man reminded him.
The first man grunted as he turned back towards the weeping woman.
"Best just tell us the truth," he suggested. "We can make it a quick death, and god will forgive you, or, if you keep lying, you'll become the devil's plaything. What's it to be?"
The woman unleashed a choked sob as she shook her head, and the man once more reached for one of the rods, yelping as the fire suddenly flared and some of the embers were spewed from the flames.
"Bleedin' 'ell, put 'em out!" the second man panicked as they began to smoulder into the dry wood.
"Shut up!" the first man growled, stomping on the embers before slipping and hitting his head on the mantle.
Limply, he fell to the ground with a dull thud, and the second man was not given the opportunity to help his companion as he was felled with a quick stunning spell courtesy of Harry.
For good measure, he stunned the other one to ensure he wouldn't wake to see what would come next.
With both now unconscious, Harry ended his disillusionment charm and kneeled in front of the confused woman.
"If you want to live to see another day, it's best you don't scream," he whispered. "I can help you, but you need to trust me. I have a companion outside, and we can get you out of here. Would you like that?"
The woman nodded frantically, and Harry carefully removed her bindings, though he turned sharply towards the door as he heard the unmistakeable sound of an owl calling from outside.
"Quiet," he urged the woman as he pulled her to her feet and turned towards the window.
Outside, he could see two more men approaching the shack, and many others milling around in the village.
The sun had risen in what he'd believed had only been the past few moments, and he cursed under his breath.
"Well, that's not good," he muttered irritably, spotting the bushes he'd been hiding in suddenly move as Godric stepped out of them to intercept the two men. "We have to get out of here."
There was no back door, but there was a small window that he began helping the woman through.
Just as he managed it, he heard voices outside the door to the shack and he reapplied his disillusionment charm as it opened and the two men who entered paused at the sight of their unconscious companion.
There was a moment of stunned silence.
"SHE'S ESCAPED!"
They repeated the declaration as they ran into the village square, and Harry wasted no time in retreating hastily and sprinting towards where he and Godric had tied up their horses only a short distance away.
Seeing the man waiting for him, Harry breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the bleary-eyed woman being helped onto the back of Godric's mount.
"She almost ran into them," he explained. "She's confused, Harry. "Quickly, we'd best put some distance between them and us."
Harry nodded as he mounted his own horse and urged Tempest back along the path they had taken to get here.
The hooves thudded as they galloped away, and it wasn't until the horses were breathing heavily that they slowed down.
Godric held up a hand, and in the distance, the sound of hooves continued, along with the barking of dogs.
"They're tracking us."
Quickly removing his wand, Godric cast several charms that Harry was not familiar with before he gestured for them to continue on, though this time, they moved at a slower pace.
"They won't find us now," the man sighed. "You did well, Harry."
"Well? We've just been chased who knows how far," Harry chuckled humourlessly.
"Yes, but we managed to get her out of there, and no one was killed, were they?"
Harry shook his head.
"No."
"Then our efforts were successful, and exciting, I might add."
Harry laughed once more before he sobered at the sight of the woman.
"I think she needs to rest before we go on."
Godric nodded his agreement.
"I expect she's had quite the ordeal. Come, we will set up camp on top of that hill, just in case."
Once more, Harry followed Godric and breathed a sigh of relief of his own.
"Another day, another adventure," he murmured.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," Harry replied, revelling in the rush of adrenaline that was beginning to ebb away in the aftermath of what he'd done.
Still, he didn't regret helping the woman, and he dreaded to think what would've been done to her had they not intervened on her behalf.
(Break)
Despite having no real reason to make the journey to the lake in Harry's absence, Morgana had found herself doing so each night. Perhaps it had become her habit to do so, but as she continued to stare at the pendant in her hand, Morgana couldn't deny that she may have just gotten used to having the boy around so often.
It was an odd feeling to miss someone in such a way.
His absence had never been so glaring when she'd known he was only in the castle, but now that Morgana knew she would not be seeing hm this evening, or even the next, she felt somewhat hollow.
"It is unlike you to come out here."
Morgana quickly tucked her pendant into her robes before looking up at Salazar, whom she'd not heard approach.
"I like it here," she murmured, her tone a little sadder than she'd anticipated.
Salazar stood next to her and peered across the lake.
"I suppose I have taken this for granted," he sighed. "It is quite beautiful here."
Morgana nodded but said nothing.
"You miss him."
"Who?"
Salazar chuckled and his eyes darted towards her.
Morgana did not miss the glint of amusement in them.
"The very same boy who brought you the necklace. Do I need to speak his name?"
"I do not know what you mean."
Salazar shook his head.
"His little nightly ventures have not been missed," he explained. "I thought that he was merely coming here to be where he arrived, but when I saw you sitting here, well, I must say that I am surprised, but not displeased. Harry is quite an exceptional young man, isn't he?"
"Is he?"
"So, you admit that you have met him."
Morgana scowled at the grinning man.
"You're incorrigible."
"Perhaps," Salazar agreed.
"But you're not displeased?"
"No. I think it is good for you to have someone you can turn to, and it is good for Harry."
"Good for Harry?"
Salazar frowned slightly as he looked at Morgana.
"What has he told you about himself?"
"Not very much," she replied thoughtfully. "I know that his parents were killed when he was young and that he was raised by his aunt and uncle."
Salazar nodded.
"And what have you told him about yourself?"
Morgana swallowed deeply.
"Almost nothing."
"I thought as much," Salazar sighed. "Albeit for me to tell you what to do, girl, but both of you have quite a tale to share with one another If you are interested in friendship, or more, then you should consider confiding in him. He will reciprocate, and I can assure you that you will not regret it."
Morgana looked towards the man questioningly.
"His story is no more mine to tell you than it would be to tell Harry yours," he continued, "but for what my opinion is worth, I think the two of you sharing a friendship is not a bad thing. I would go as far to say that I find it rather endearing."
"Shut up," Morgana huffed irritably, eliciting another smirk from Salazar.
He gave her shoulder a squeeze and she pulled away from him.
"You know, you're quite annoying."
"I have been told the very same thing by many others," he snorted. "But I stand by what I have said. You may not wish to admit it to me, but there's a reason you're out here and it has nothing to do with the view. At the very least, you should be willing to admit it to yourself. Now, is there anything I can get for you?"
Morgana shook her head as her gaze shifted towards the lake once more.
Maybe there was a part of her hoping that Harry would suddenly break the surface and swim to land, as he'd done many times before now.
"No, thank you," she sighed.
"Then I shall leave you to your thoughts," Salazar chuckled. "Oh, before I go, myself, Rowena, and Helga will be meeting with Harry and Godric soon for Harry's birthday. I'm certain I can arrange for you to join us."
"You're going to see him?"
"In the next couple of weeks."
Morgana bit her lower lip before shaking her head.
"No, I don't think I will."
Salazar offered her a sad smile.
"Well, if you change your mind, you need only get a message to me. I will speak with Helga and Rowena about allowing you to come along."
With that, he took his leave and Morgana released a deep breath.
She'd almost accepted the offer to go with them.
Why she hadn't, she didn't know, but the thought of leaving the forest for so long was not something she was sure she could do.
She belonged here, and not in the unpleasant world outside of her sanctum.
(Break)
"I think it is best if we allow her to sleep a little longer," Godric urged. "She has endured quite the ordeal."
Harry nodded as he took one of the rabbits from the fire and pulled away some of the skin.
It had taken him a while to adjust to a new diet consisting mostly of meat and vegetables, but he found that he no longer missed the confections as much as he would've expected.
"I think you're right."
They'd managed to set up a camp off the beaten path, and though they'd heard the pounding of hooves and barking throughout the entirety of the previous day, they'd not been found by those searching for them.
The woman they'd rescued had been quite mute, and she'd eventually fell asleep a little after sunset.
Godric had allowed her to sleep in his tent whilst he'd rested by the fire.
"What will we do with her?"
"I will ask her when she wakes," Godric explained. "I think I will try to convince her to go to Hogwarts. Rowena and the others will ensure that she is well, and then they will find somewhere for her to go."
Harry nodded as he bit into his breakfast.
It had been quite the unpleasant situation for the woman, after all, and she should be kept safe.
From what little she had said to them, she had no family.
Her husband had been killed in battle a few years prior, and they'd had no children.
"What about your family?" Harry asked curiously. "Don't you have children?"
"Four, that I am aware of," Godric chuckled. "I do not deny that I was quite the cad during my younger years, and I am well-travelled."
"Four?"
"Three sons and one daughter. Two continue to travel and my eldest son and daughter have settled down with families of their own. I see them both regularly enough."
"But no wife?"
Godric shook his head sadly.
"She died not long after our youngest son was born," he revealed. "My Magdalena was the most wonderful of women, Harry, and I remember her with the utmost fondness. Helga too lost her husband, and Salazar his wife. Rowena and her husband are estranged. He is a most despicable man."
"I'm sorry about your wife."
"As am I," Godric sighed, offering him a reassuring smile. "I suppose her death spurred me into finding a purpose beyond travelling. I taught my children whilst we began working on opening Hogwarts, and now, I dedicate my life to it. She would be proud of what we have done, and I expect I will be reunited with her when the time is right. Ah, good morning."
The woman had emerged from the tent, and though they had been the ones to rescue her from a deeply unpleasant fate, she was still very wary of them.
She offered Godric a tight smile.
"Help yourself to some food," he urged.
She nodded and took one of the rabbits before picking at it delicately.
For several moments, none of them spoke, and it was Godric who broke the silence.
"If you would like, there is a place you can go where my friends will be able to help you," he offered. "It is far enough away that you won't be found by those looking for you, and you will be able to start a new life with our kind. Have you heard of Hogwarts?"
The woman stopped eating and looked towards Godric before nodding.
"The school," she murmured.
"I am one of the Founders of the school. My name is Godric Gryffindor."
The woman's eyes widened.
"Is it really you?" she whispered.
"It is," Godric confirmed. "I can get a message to my colleagues and one will come to collect you. You will be Insafe hands in the castle. Would you like that?"
The woman swallowed deeply before nodding.
"I don't have anywhere else to go."
"Then I will send the message after we have eaten," Godric declared. "It will not take long for them to arrive."
"What about us?" Harry asked. "Where will we go?"
Godric nodded thoughtfully.
"We are going to make our way to where I was born and raised," he decided. "I have not been there for some years, and I'd like to see it again. It is a beautiful village, even if the residents decided to name it after me after we opened the school."
"They named it after you?"
Godric chuckled amusedly.
"Godric's Hollow," he revealed. "That is where we are going."