The Gryffindor common room was a hive of activity, buzzing with the news of what had transpired. By dinner time, everyone had heard. Many students were bewildered, and more than a few were openly annoyed, unable to comprehend why Harry Potter would save an enemy. The most vocal among them was Ron, who was complaining loudly in the common room about not being allowed into the hospital wing. Godric Gryffindor, in the form of Neville, understood Madam Pomfrey's decision; Ron had been shouting his complaints at the entrance to the wing.
"It was Malfoy!" Ron snapped. "He should've just let the Hippogriff rip him to shreds."
"That wouldn't have been a good idea," Godric said, his voice calm but firm, fully aware that the entire common room was watching them. "It's true that Malfoy provoked the Hippogriff, but it would have been far worse for the creature if it had actually harmed him."
"Longbottom's right, Weasley," a fourth-year boy chimed in. It was Cormac McLaggen. "My father works in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. If someone like Malfoy had been hurt, that Hippogriff would already be choosing its own headstone." He spoke with an air of self-importance. "Besides, my father's on the school board, and I was at the Malfoys' for dinner the other day. Malfoy's father was quite upset about that gamekeeper being appointed as a teacher."
"I gather you're not a fan of Hagrid either, then?" Godric observed.
"No. I'm of the opinion that Dumbledore should only hire properly qualified staff. And it's pretty clear that Potter was just protecting his friend."
Godric frowned. He found a certain truth in McLaggen's words. Buckbeak had backed off when he saw that the person who'd been injured wasn't the one who had insulted him in the first place, so it was highly likely that the magical creature would have killed that blond loudmouth. That particular problem had been avoided, but at the same time, it presented an opportunity to control the Slytherin house. Everyone in that house blindly followed Malfoy, and Malfoy, whether he liked it or not, now literally owed Salazar Slytherin a favour.
When the discussion shifted from a debate about why "Harry" had acted a certain way to how truthful the tea leaves were, Godric took it as his cue to leave the common room. It was either that or laughing in everyone's faces at how naive they were. It was still early, so he would find something to distract himself with. Checking the school's state firsthand was one such thing, despite his current limitations. It was important to know if there was anything in disrepair, any places that hadn't been properly maintained over the centuries.
He didn't attempt to go to the hospital wing; he knew that after Ronald Weasley's outburst, they wouldn't let any students in unless they were genuinely ill, and he wasn't about to self-harm just for that. He didn't like it, but he would have to wait. To act otherwise would be to draw too much attention to himself, and if he did, Salazar would probably be annoyed. Although, come to think of it, he couldn't say much about it himself at the moment.
"Hello, Godric," a female voice said.
Godric stopped in his tracks, looking at the figure standing in the shadows, lit only by moonlight. It was a young woman with short, pink hair, dressed in a Macbeth t-shirt and a leather jacket. She was leaning against the wall in a relaxed pose. Godric smiled when he saw her; even with her current look, he recognised her immediately.
"Helga. We wondered when you would manifest."
"I couldn't talk to him. I wouldn't know how. He protected me, you know what I mean."
"We protected each other."
"I know, it's just..."
"You'll find a way to deal with what truly scares you. In fact, I think it scares you both."
"Godric..." Helga straightened up. There was a nervousness behind her apparent calm. "I've been waiting for you for a long time. I was the first, and I've been alone for seven years. I started to think that something had gone wrong, that only I had managed to return."
"We'll have to find out why when all four of us are together. You're the eldest now, but in the past, you were the youngest."
They held each other's gazes. Godric could see that hidden strength in Helga's eyes. She was always one of the first to set the mould, in some way. Rowena was too, though to a lesser extent. The four of them had laid the foundations for a new movement, one that would become universal education over the centuries. They were pioneers.
"Tonks," a male voice sounded from the end of the corridor. The conversation was cut short. "You know what Dumbledore said. We have a job to do."
"Oh, are you the Aurors Dumbledore spoke of?" Godric asked, pretending to be absent-minded. "Blast it. Not only have I lost my bearings again, but I've mistaken an Auror for a student."
"Never mind, it was fun," Helga replied.
"You hadn't corrected him?" the Auror inquired sternly.
"Relax, Kingsley. It's not like I've put on a robe and walked into one of the classes."
"Don't let your moments of fun cloud your work here, Nymphadora."
"Don't you worry. They won't. And don't call me that, it makes my skin crawl."
"Well, I'd better get on with my business," Godric said. "Pleasure to meet you both, Kingsley and Tonks." He let out a small laugh. "Until another time, if the castle allows it."
"See you later," Helga replied. "By the way, you never told me your name."
"Neville Longbottom."
---
Salazar lay on his side, propped up by a careful arrangement of pillows. His arms were positioned to avoid putting any strain on his recent wound. He knew this was necessary and made sure not to put any weight on the injury. The only reason Salazar knew he had spent the night in the infirmary was the numerous times the pain had jolted him awake. Madam Pomfrey hadn't said a word, but she didn't need to; Salazar knew the injury was severe. Each time he awoke, he was immediately given a powerful pain potion that sent him back into unconsciousness. Under normal circumstances, Salazar would have hated being drugged like that, but on this specific occasion, he was grateful. Enduring that pain would have been sheer agony. During one of his brief moments of wakefulness, he thought he saw Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, but the fleeting moment was enough for Salazar to understand that the school nurse was reminding them to let him rest.
It wasn't until breakfast the next morning that Madam Pomfrey decided Salazar no longer needed the strong painkiller. She switched him to a new potion that left him less groggy. His breakfast consisted of a hearty meal with plenty of protein and some sugar. The sugar provided energy, while the protein would help his body regenerate the tissues damaged by the Hippogriff's attack. Salazar recognised his reaction had been foolish; he should have immobilised the Hippogriff immediately. It would have been a far better course of action than intervening in a way that could have cost him his life.
Salazar looked up as a man entered the infirmary. He had greying hair, wore glasses, and had a kind face. Dressed in yellow and brown robes, he carried a folder with the Ministry of Magic's logo on it. The man went straight to the nurse, and Salazar could hear him asking directly about his condition. The man, it seemed, wanted to take a statement about what had happened. Soon after, Dumbledore hurried into the infirmary.
"Amos," Dumbledore said, turning to the man. "I told you yesterday there was no need to trouble young Harry with this. It's an unimportant incident that will go no further."
"Don't tell me how to do my job, Dumbledore." The man, now identified as Amos, had a stern voice that showed he wouldn't take no for an answer. "A 'minor incident' doesn't land a student in the infirmary."
"Amos, I insist this is not necessary. The creature is under control and there will be no further incidents. Let young Harry rest; I'll speak to him myself later."
"A magical creature attacked a student during a class. It is the responsibility of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to investigate the case. Just as you should have warned us last year when a Basilisk was roaming the school. Ced told me about it, so don't act daft and say you didn't suspect what it might be." The man's words visibly unsettled Dumbledore, who clearly didn't want any Ministry officials at the school.
"Don't worry, Headmaster," Salazar said with a smile. "What happened is simply that Draco Malfoy either didn't listen to Professor Hagrid's instructions or didn't take them into consideration," he began, speaking in his most innocent tone before stopping. Salazar didn't look at the Headmaster for long, focusing instead on the Ministry official.
Salazar knew his actions had been deliberate, but emphasising that in direct words could be a mistake. With what Salazar had already said, the rest was in the hands of whoever read the statement. Salazar watched an enchanted quill write his words onto a piece of parchment. He also saw Dumbledore's face—a mix of disgust, calculation, and a strange smile. He was a peculiar man.
"Hagrid told us that Hippogriffs were very proud and easily offended," Salazar continued. "I suppose that Malfoy calling him a 'deformed chicken' wasn't exactly a compliment. The Hippogriff was going to attack him; I simply got in the way."
"Why did you want to prevent that attack?" the Ministry official asked.
"I reacted instinctively," Salazar said. It was a half-truth, half-lie. "It crossed my mind that Malfoy could take advantage of the situation to cause more trouble, and I just acted. I didn't think about it at the time. I'm sorry if I've caused a lot of fuss."
"Don't worry, young Potter. Your statement has clarified everything. Next time, allow the adults to mediate the situation."
"Nothing's going to happen to Buckbeak, is it?" Salazar asked.
"Don't worry, everything is in order," Amos replied.
The man waved goodbye to both Madam Pomfrey and Salazar. He also said his goodbyes to Dumbledore, who now seemed much more relaxed than before the questioning. Salazar decided to set the Headmaster's strange reaction aside and finish his breakfast. He could see that Dumbledore was still in the room.
"Harry, it was risky to speak with Mr. Diggory," Dumbledore said. "He is a decent man, but he is still a Ministry official. When politics get mixed up with education, things usually end badly."
"I understand," Salazar replied.
---
It wasn't until late on Thursday that Salazar was able to return to his classes. His first class was Potions, but since it had already started, he knew Professor Snape wouldn't care that he had just been discharged from the hospital wing. Snape would simply take points from Gryffindor for his lateness and give him a detention. Salazar preferred to avoid the temptation to strangle the man with his own hands. So, he went to the library instead, catching up on his work until the bell rang for Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Salazar gave vague answers to anyone who asked about his injury. His left arm was currently immobilised in a sling from the shoulder, but thankfully, this meant it didn't interfere with his classwork or the use of his wand. Madame Pomfrey had told him he needed to return every three days to have his bandages changed, but otherwise, he could lead a normal life, as long as he wasn't reckless.
Once he was in the staff room with the rest of his class, Salazar exchanged a look with Godric after becoming the target of one of Snape's nasty remarks. The Potions master tried to give him a detention for missing his class, but Professor Lupin intervened, mentioning that Madame Pomfrey had just discharged him and that he should be aware of any potential complications. With that, the bitter professor was unable to do anything. Salazar was certain that Snape would find another opportunity to get even, or that he would provoke him into one. He needed to figure out why the professor was such an arsehole towards him.
Salazar felt a nudge from Ron, which pulled him out of his thoughts. He realised Professor Lupin had asked him a question. He hadn't heard the explanation, as his mind had been on other matters. Beside him, he could feel Hermione with her hand raised, eager to answer, while many in the class looked annoyed. Salazar was sure that Hermione had already answered a number of the professor's questions without him even being aware of it.
"Could you repeat the question, please?" Salazar asked.
"Of course, Harry," Professor Lupin replied, gesturing towards the wardrobe. "Why do we have an advantage over a Boggart?"
"Because there are so many of us, and it wouldn't know which form to take," Salazar answered almost immediately, recalling everything he knew about these creatures. "I also assume that, given our age, none of us usually have fears that are dangerous or traumatic enough for a Boggart to be able to detect them."
"What makes you think that?" Professor Lupin watched him carefully, looking both delighted and surprised by his answer.
"Well, if they turn into what we fear most, it means they can detect fear and which one is the most powerful."
"An interesting deduction. Now, form a queue, and you will face the Boggart one by one."
Salazar was the last in the queue. He didn't think there would be time for everyone to get through, and he was going to make sure of it. Facing a Boggart meant revealing your fears to others, and that wasn't something he was willing to do, as it could be used as a weapon against him. On the other hand, he couldn't be sure if the Boggart would transform into something he truly feared or something that Harry Potter was supposed to fear. He didn't want to risk a rumour reaching the Headmaster. It was better to avoid anything that might expose him. He glanced at Godric, who nodded and joined him at the end of the queue.
"We'll have to find a way out of it," Salazar murmured.
"I agree," Godric replied. "If he makes us face it on our own, even after class, it could still be just as catastrophic. We need to find out if we can control it."
"By the way, he's one of the Aurors in the castle," Salazar said.
"I'm not too surprised," Godric replied.
The bell rang, marking the end of class, just in time. The only ones who hadn't faced the Boggart were Hermione and the two of them. Professor Lupin awarded five points to everyone who had faced the Boggart, another five to Hermione for her answer at the beginning of the class, and ten to Salazar for the quality of his. Salazar could tell how frustrated Hermione was that she hadn't had a chance to face the creature.
"Why don't you ask him if you can do it now?" he suggested to Hermione. "Class is over, but it would still be an opportunity. Besides, he seems competent."
"Unlike Gilderoy Lockhart," Godric added with a smile.
"Are you going to do it?" Hermione asked Salazar.
"No," Salazar replied. "But what we do doesn't have to influence what you do."
They left Hermione looking pensive as they walked away, quickening their pace. Since his arm was in a sling and his back was still injured, Salazar couldn't carry his backpack. He simply used a levitation charm to float it behind him. They took a shortcut to the common room and entered after Godric gave the password. They sat down in a secluded spot, and Godric began working on the assignments from that day. Salazar, meanwhile, had to catch up on the work from the beginning of the week. To avoid getting overwhelmed, he decided to tackle one subject at a time, so he wouldn't touch Charms until he had finished Transfiguration.
It wasn't until half an hour before dinner that his study session was interrupted, and not by his own choice. Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, approached the table where he and Godric were sitting and got their attention by banging on it.
"What were you thinking?" Wood rebuked him. "You've left Gryffindor without a Seeker just to protect some Slytherin git! Flint isn't going to agree to play against us, and last time we played without a Seeker, we made utter fools of ourselves. Did you want to hand the Snakes the Quidditch Cup?"
"Is a cup more important than a life?" Salazar asked, raising an eyebrow and gesturing for Godric to hold him back. "I'm not going to explain my actions to you. However, since I'm injured, I may not be able to prepare for the match in time. Have you considered looking for a substitute?"
"Harry joined the team because you couldn't find a Seeker then, but now you have all the third and second years you could try out," Godric pointed out.
"I don't think so..."
"Wood, I understand that you want to win," Salazar said. "I understand it better than anyone. But being authoritarian and confronting your players isn't going to help you achieve it. Talk to the rest of the second and third years. Hold tryouts for the position among them. I'll help you find a substitute at the same level as the team."
"In fact, you should already have substitutes," Godric observed. "You should always have a couple of players who can fill any position, just in case something happens."
"I'll arrange everything for this Saturday," Wood said, much calmer, before walking away.
Salazar watched him go, frowning. He hadn't liked Wood's attitude. He knew the boy was fiercely competitive—he had designed a rigorous training programme for all the matches the previous year. It wasn't enough for him to win; he wanted perfection. That competitiveness had a dangerous edge that Wood was dangerously close to crossing, a sort of dehumanisation in his reactions, wanting to win at any cost. It wasn't healthy.
"It's hard to write things the way a thirteen-year-old would," Godric murmured. "I have to hold back what I know because some things would be too difficult for someone our age to know."
"Except for Hermione," Salazar replied to his friend. "She's intelligent, perceptive, and probably read the entire library in her first year, apart from a certain section."
"Do you think she could be...?" Godric began.
"She has the potential to be, yes, but I don't think so," Salazar said. "She's intelligent, but her intelligence is of the academic type. She seems to need to prove herself to be the best at everything and to be above everyone else. Not in a malicious way." He glanced over at where the girl was, surrounded by endless books. "But as if she feels she must prove that she deserves to be here. She could become brilliant on her own if she stopped treating books as infallible gods and became more critical of their contents."
"You're not going to tell her anything, are you?" Godric asked.
"No, my friend. If you or I gave her advice like that now, she wouldn't take us seriously. You have the reputation of being a shy boy who has to work hard to achieve the bare minimum..."
"That's the wand's fault, and also mine for believing what my grandmother told me," Godric interjected.
"... and I, I could have done better these past two years, but I didn't want to lose the few friendships I had by excelling at anything." He turned to his friend, lowering his head to speak confidentially. "You know that in this life, I was raised by my mother's sister. My aunt and uncle. They hate anything to do with magic, and I was punished every time I performed accidental magic or dared to get better marks than my cousin. Anything that made me stand out or rise above Dudley was punished."
"I see, so before you came back completely, you acted below average so you wouldn't be alone. That's sad. Are you planning revenge?"
"Not really. The best revenge I can get is to stand back and wait. They wanted Dudley to stand out above me and spoiled him to the extreme, and my cousin is already showing signs of being a juvenile delinquent. I don't need revenge when I know they'll likely face the censure of their neighbours sooner or later because of Dudley's actions."
"As long as they don't blame you," Godric replied.
"Dear friend, I plan to get away from that house at the first opportunity I get."
The common room was beginning to empty; it was already dinner time. In silence, they gathered their books and work and joined Hermione on their way down to the Great Hall. As long as they couldn't reveal who they truly were, they had to continue their roles as students. Given their academic performance in the previous two years, standing out too quickly would be too suspicious. It wouldn't be so strange, however, if this was the year a change took place within them. Godric wasn't too surprised, then, when Salazar began to ask Hermione seemingly innocent questions about the documents she was reading on Runes, and then subtly steered the conversation toward potential theories on the use of runes. Godric wondered if he should change his Divination class as well. Although he had continued to attend, he found Professor Trelawney's approach ridiculous, especially after the claims he had seen about the hippogriff incident a month earlier from her crystal ball. Maybe he should change to Muggle Studies, he thought, since he had no idea what modern Muggles were like.
"Harry," a sheepish Ginny Weasley said as they sat down in the Great Hall for dinner. "Wood told us about the tryouts, but I don't have a broom and... well, Fred and George won't take me seriously..." The girl was blushing furiously.
"Of course, you can borrow my Nimbus," Salazar said, having understood her immediately. "I'll give it to you when we get back to the common room so you can get used to it."
"And that?" Godric whispered.
"She needs to regain her faith in herself. Besides, Luna says she's a good flier."
"When did you talk to Luna?" Godric asked.
"She ended up in the hospital wing after some classmates 'accidentally' threw some stinging seeds at her that Professor Sprout had prepared for the fifth-years," Salazar shrugged. "Honestly, we had a rather interesting conversation."
"Harry, mate, could you lend me your broom for Saturday?" Ron asked.
"I'm sorry, Ron, I've already promised it to someone."
"But I'm your best friend!" Ron protested.
"That doesn't mean I'll go back on my word," Salazar replied calmly.
"It's not fair! First, I have to hide Scabbers because that monster Hermione bought wants to eat him, and now you're letting me down."
"Well, cats do tend to eat rats," Godric said with amusement. "And Harry isn't letting you down. He's simply a man of his word, just like me. Or would you rather he promised to lend you something, only for a friend he's known longer to come along and snatch the loan away?"
"That's impossible! I'm the first friend he made." Ron snapped. "And you stay out of this, Longbottom."
"It was a hypothetical situation," Godric replied, completely unfazed by Ron's rude outburst.
"Besides, Ron," Salazar added. "My very first friend was Hagrid."
That was enough to leave Ron without an argument. Still, Salazar knew that the position Ron truly liked, and had been preparing for since he first learned to fly, was that of a Keeper. The rest of dinner continued in silence, allowing Salazar to mentally organise his most urgent assignments before bed. He also planned to read ahead for his other classes to avoid being caught by surprise. From his spot at the table, he could feel Malfoy's anxious gaze; he knew the boy was aware of the debt between them and seemed to have a certain fear of it being called in. Going and confronting him about it now would be a bad idea. It was better to wait for Draco to approach him, giving him the proper distance to do so.
On Saturday morning, Salazar went down to the Quidditch pitch. He had arranged with Oliver Wood beforehand that he would sit in the main stands and help evaluate the candidates for his position. Ultimately, his decision would be final. He felt a bit uncomfortable and sore, and he was still taking a dose of an analgesic potion every so often. It was far less often than Madame Pomfrey thought he should, but he knew those potions had an addictive component. He didn't want to take any risks, so taking it once every twelve hours instead of every six was enough for him.
A total of three people tried out, all of them second-years. The test was simple. A few laps of the pitch to determine their ability to maintain balance while flying at a decent speed. Then, they had to do it while dodging the rest of the team as if they were chasing a Snitch at full speed, which included dodging Bludgers. One of the three didn't pass that test; he was fast and balanced but showed little confidence, as he was afraid of crashing into the rest of the team.
"I see they have you as a coach," a girl said, sitting down next to him.
It was Helga. The same presence he had felt in the alley and who had left in a hurry. He gave her a look and a smile. Pink-haired. He remembered seeing someone with hair like that walk away, but back then, he had only focused on students; he hadn't considered an adult. Her hair momentarily changed to brown before returning to its original colour.
"So you're a metamorphmagus. It would have been fun to have you as a new classmate," Salazar commented.
"The Headmaster doesn't allow us to be in disguise. Or to be seen, most of the time."
"Bending the rules, are you? I'm surprised."
"Quidditch is a risky position for students and the perfect place for a madman to act. That's not bending the rules."
"Call it what you want. If Dumbledore thought supervision was necessary, he would send an adult. Of course, it's also true that the magnificent headmaster of this institution usually acts after something has already happened."
"Or perhaps he prefers to let some children protect the school?" Helga mused. "I don't like his methods. He tried to use Legilimency on me, and I'm sure he uses it on my partner. I don't know how skilled Kingsley is at Occlumency."
"I won't hold your gaze any longer than I have to," Salazar replied. "It would be very strange if the suddenly vulnerable boy had any powerful shields."
From his position, Salazar kept an eye on what was happening on the pitch while they talked. In fact, he could see how Wood was dealing with the boy who had been eliminated from the tryouts in an abrupt manner. That could turn into a disaster. At the same time, he saw the twins pointing at him and whispering, and he had a feeling a prank was coming. He'd just have to endure it. He picked up the ridiculous purple microphone the match commentator usually used. He decided to intervene before things went any further.
"Colin, you've done well, but it's not what we're looking for," Salazar's voice boomed over the speakers. "You can do much better. Keep practising and show up the next time we hold tryouts."
He turned off the microphone and sat down again, catching a look of appreciation from the Chasers. They knew Wood too well and understood that the situation could have escalated into an argument. The captain was demanding, but the boy was good. With more time, he could have reached the team's minimum standard. Soon, the two remaining applicants began to compete; both were girls.
"What were you thinking, doing that? It's more like Godric to jump into danger," Helga asked.
"Honestly, I don't know if I was even thinking. I wanted to avoid trouble and didn't consider using my wand," Salazar let out a small laugh. "I suppose I can say now that I did it to feed the paranoia of those who think I'm going to die just because the Grim appeared in my teacup. It could be seen as... expressing a point of view?"
"Well, just in case, don't look down the stairs—there's a Grim," Helga said, following his gaze. "I told you not to look."
"I'm not usually good at doing what I'm told," Salazar said.
He had a strange feeling when he saw the large black dog—a feeling of nostalgia. The animal felt familiar, even though he was certain he had never seen it before. With a mocking gesture, he refocused on the pitch, watching the movements of the two Seeker candidates. Robbins had agility and speed on her side, but Ginny had cunning. Chasing a Snitch was more than just being the fastest to go after the winged ball; it was about the art of deception, being able to mislead the other Seeker and anticipate the Snitch's movements. So, in the end, despite how close it was and how long it took to catch the Snitch, it had been Ginny Weasley who did it.
"I suppose you have a new Seeker," Helga said.
"It seems so. I have to talk to Wood."
"And I'm with Kingsley," Helga said with some regret before greeting a man in the opposite stands.
"Your superior?" Salazar asked calmly, ignoring the man and looking at her.
"Yes."
"Well, may it be a light burden for you." He took her hand and, with a slight gesture, raised it to kiss the back of it.
"Thank you, Salazar, thank you very much," Helga said sarcastically before leaving the stands to meet with Kingsley.
The Gryffindor team approached the stands where he was sitting. The girls blushed, except for Ginny, who seemed to be upset with a few light tears escaping her eyes. Wood was stern, as if he wanted to argue, and the twins were holding back the urge to laugh.
"Ginny did better," Salazar confirmed to Wood before he could ask. "Robbins, on the other hand, could be a good emergency back-up, maybe even as a Chaser." He smiled at his captain. "Let's follow Neville's advice."
"Our little sister flies well," Fred began.
"...better than we thought," George finished.
"...but she doesn't have a broom," they both ended sadly.
"Yes, she does," Salazar said. "She can use the Nimbus. It's all yours."
"That was given to you by Professor McGonagall," Wood observed.
"Perhaps. But I understood that it was given to the team's Seeker. So, for the time being, it will have to do. I know I'm leaving it in good hands."
"Thank you," Ginny said gratefully.
"Harry, who was that girl? She seemed a bit older," George asked.
"She must be an Auror. Dumbledore mentioned they would be around the castle," Wood said. "I don't know what she was doing here, or if Sirius Black is going to show up at our training."
"She was my Elizabeth Bennet, Oliver," Salazar said with a small smirk.
Most of the team looked confused, except for Angelina Johnson, who blushed with a sigh.