Chapter Eleven

oooP1ooo

(Neville)

Salazar filled him in on a few final tidbits as they took the long way up to the Great Hall. They shifted to speaking Pictish so none of the students would understand the conversation. It kept them from assuming Godric was even more incompetent than they all apparently thought he was.

Godric didn't think anyone was listening in, or able to hear anything with how quietly they were discussing things, but plenty were glancing at his brother with undisguised interest, or fear and hate, or awe. He found himself staring back at the children until they noticed that he had noticed. They turned away with blushes or scowls, but all were embarrassed at being caught. The lot needed to work on watching a person more subtly.

Sadly, Sally was unable to tell him much about his schedule. It was Tuesday, which apparently meant they sat together in herbology. Some days they also shared a potions class. Everything else, Godric had with either Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs. Salazar wasn't aware of the details.

So, as they reached the Great Hall, Godric knew two facts about the day beyond it potentially smelling worse than a bog hag. He had herbology before lunch. He had a mental list of his fellow first year Gryffindors's names. His brother had "helpfully" described each child that went with the name. Godric wasn't clear on how 'bossy know-it-all that didn't like Salazar' was at all helpful. (Her actual name was almost as bad, though unique enough to remember.) It was more descriptive than 'he's blond and Irish', at least.

Godric slowed to a stop as he took in the aged Great Hall. There was an equal amount of change to what had stayed the same.—More Windows. More Color. Stone worn and darkened.—Salazar grasped his arm and took the slightest lead towards one of the tables. Godric attempted to not stare at everything.—There were vibrant red and gold banners of a lion over the table they were headed to. This was his school house. Gryffindor. His gaze moved from the lions to the black and yellow badgers and on to the blue and bronze eagles until, near the new windows, his gaze found the green and silver snakes.—Beside the tapestries displaying their apparent school houses and the age apparent in the building itself, there were the children.

There were a large number of children.

It was a good thing, a brilliant sight, but he hoped to the Mother that Neville didn't know most of them. Salazar claimed he was a shy, clumsy child when in a group so Godric guessed he didn't. But Salazar didn't know what had gone on for the first ten years of Godric's supposed second life. It was a long time to not meet any of these children before school started.

"Good morning Hermione, Dean," Salazar cheerfully said as he nodded at each child in turn, "Seamus."

Godric flicked his gaze over the three. Their faces were vaguely familiar. He knew them, should know them. Hermione wrinkled her nose at Salazar before she stuck it in the air and turned back to her book. The two boys gave slightly varied greetings.

Food appeared in platters around them all. A more familiar fare appeared on the plates in front of Sally and him. Godric, not one to avoid new experiences, shifted some of his porridge to the side for a little of the various meats surrounding him.

"Where you've been, Neville?"

The meat, a thin long piece of fatty goodness, had the perfect crunch to it. It was also wonderfully smoked. There was an odd sweetness to it too but Godric had to admit that he didn't mind it.

Salazar kicked his shin.

Godric snapped his eyes open and glared over at his brother. Salazar tilted his head towards one of the boys. Dean, he reminded himself.

"Pardon me?" Godric offered as he tried to recall what he could have missed.

The boy stared in bemusement at him but didn't have a chance to answer as the bushy haired girl interrupted.

"You must be joking!" Hermione cried out, snapping her book closed with a sharp bang against the table. "There is no possible way you've been around Potter enough to start mimicking him. It's not possible! And why would you imitate his accent? His accent is so strange!"

Godric shared a look with Salazar and decided to follow his brother's original orders. Time to not talk for the next few months. He shrugged without comment. This was the wrong answer as the uptight child began to rant at the air. Salazar must have done something truly horrible to her in the past. And by Sally's baffled expression, he had no idea what that might have been.

Terribly sad that, Godric thought in amusement. Instead of jumping into the sword fight, he leaned over and whispered in query, "Sally?"

"Hmm?"

"What is this meat?"

Green eyes flicked down to his plate and then back to Hermione. "Bacon."

"Excellent."

"You would like it."

A new voice joined into their whispering conversation. "What we whispering about?"

Godric glanced over and found a freckled, redheaded, blue eyed child. He stared. The bone structure wasn't right but damn if it didn't remind him of his son.

Salazar helpfully answered with a whispered, "Bacon."

The boy stared. "Seriously?"

"It's an enjoyable cut of meat," Godric helpfully explained but that only gained a strange glance from the redhead.

Seeing that this wasn't helping the situation, whatever the situation was, Godric turned to his two fellow Gryffindor first years not ranting into the air and asked, "What classes do we have?"

Seamus grinned as he explained, "It's Tuesday, mate."

Godric tried to think of a response to that. Preferably something that would give him the information he was attempting to gain. Nothing came to mind.

Salazar came to his aid. "You all have something before herbology, don't you?"

"We've astronomy," Dean said as he stabbed at his eggs unsuccessfully, "You?"

His brother shrugged. "Nothing but I've history after."

Seamus looked up from his breakfast, and leaned over the table towards Salazar as he asked, "Did you have that ten inches on Urg the Unclean? Bloody impossible ta find anything about that chap."

"Ah," Salazar seemed to hesitate for a moment before he answered, "Yes, I suppose...Do you have any classes after herbology?"

"Nah," Seamus answered with a crooked grin, "It's our short day."

"Lucky, I've transfigura–"

"Did you not do your history homework?" Hermione screeched over Salazar's remark, having realized no one was listening to her rant about regional accents.

"I'm sure I did it," Salazar countered with a slight shake of his head. He glanced down into his tea cup. A softed, annoyed huff escaped his brother as he devined something odd. Salazar always saw strange things in his cups. Godric was amused he still bothered looking.

The girl hissed at Salazar before stomping away, pushing past the two red headed twins that had been listening in. Salazar snapped his gaze back up from his cup at the hissing.

Another red head with a badge yanked the twins to the side for some type of argument. Godric watched, bemused, as a mullish expression settled on all three boys' faces. Even that expression reminded him of his son. It was odd seeing it on so many strangers.

Godric noticed the helplessly look Sally sent his way and turned back to the little group of first years. He remarked after a moment's consideration of the retreating girl, "I think she thought you were dismissing her."

Salazar frowned thoughtfully before heaving a defeated sort of sigh. The softest mutter of "children" reached Godric's ears. His brother glanced down at his silver bracelet before looking up at them all. "It's almost class."

The two boys across from them gave Salazar weird looks. Dean slowly stated, "Umm...for us."

Terror spiked through Godric.—Sally could not leave. He wasn't allowed out of Godric's sight.—Frustration answered the terror. He had never been this bloody terrified since he had been a child and almost burned down the forest. What was wrong with him? Sally wasn't going to just vanish on him.

A hand grasped his forearm under the table and magic slithered vine-like up his arm, heating the brother bond marks and soothing his strange terror.

"I've got nothing better to do," Salazar said with a disarmingly innocent smile.

That smile was new. Godric had no idea how anyone would ever believe such a smile.—His fellow Gryfindors's disbelief indicated that no one actually did.

"Right," Seamus stretched the word out as he spoke, "Nothing better to do but travel to the top of the bloody tallest tower first thing in the morning."

Dean got up with a faint grin. "Come on or we really will be late."

The two founders of Hogwarts rose to follow. Godric paused at the double doors and stared back into the Great Hall, it was nearly empty. He could take a proper stare at everything so familiar and yet not. This was going to be a long day—long month—of adjustments.

A hand pressed lightly against his shoulder. Godric looked back to the black haired, green eyed boy, surprised at the comfort already tied to the foriegn face.—His brother was with him. Alive.

oooP2ooo

"Bloody hell, mate," said Seamus with a surprised laugh as they reached the sixth floor, "Where's your books and things?"

Godric pulled his gaze from the walls covered in moving, talking paintings and asked with a frown, "Wha..."

Seamus had a stake of books in the crook of his arm. Dean had a drawstring bag filled with things hanging from his shoulder. He had been so busy staring at his school, he had not noticed.

"You better run!" Dean said with a faint frown as he walked backwards to talk to Godric. With his piece said, the boy ran himself. Seamus rushed after him.

"Where am I supposed to run to?" Godric asked helplessly. His breath hitched as fear bloomed across his chest, affecting his very breath. (He was going to be late. He couldn't be late now. This was one of the few classes he did well i–)

"To your dorms, dear," a painting answered with a tut.

Godric had no idea where his dorms were. His gaze snapped to his brother, wide and worried. (Why was he panicking over a class?)

Salazar pulled Godric into the first room they came to, just adjacent to the grand staircase. His brother closed the door with a soft click as he said, "Just ignore them." Green eyes traveled over Godric's stiff form. "And breath."

"Sally–"

His brother offered a soft smile. "It's all good. We've House elves now. Mipsy?"

Godric relaxed, anxiety he didn't understand faded as the House elf pop-clicked into the room.

"Masters," Mipsy greeted them as she bounced on her toes, "You called?"

"Could you bring me my satchel?"

She nodded sweetly and pop-clicked from the room.

The last of the anxiety and panic vanished. Godric could feel his shoulders relax and he could breathe easier once more. His gaze swept over the small room as he tried to distract himself from his reaction and the strange situation he found himself in.—Only a long table and chair sat in it. One wall had some type of large slate board on it with white scribbles, like a writing slate just ginormous.(1)

A pop-click pulled his attention back to his brother. Mipsy stood beside him with a leather bag.

"Thank you," Salazar said as he claimed it. The House elf beamed before vanishing. Godric's eyebrows shot up as Salazar stuck his entire arm into one of the bag's openings. His brother looked over to him as he explained, "You can use my Astronomy book...I'll get you a notebook and my pen also."

Godric accepted the items and turned the book about in wonder. Sally was carrying around a book. "Thanks."

Salazar grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the hallway as he flipped the book open. "No time for that, now."

They rushed through halls with a surprising number of children milling about. "What-"

"Sixth is mainly for school clubs," Salazar explained as they dodged around a group of giggling girls. "Might have an elective classroom around, somewhere, though."

"Elective?"

They turned a final corner and found a large, spiraling staircase up a tower. Salazar started to climb, pulling Godric along. His brother huffed out as they rushed upward, "I'll explain it later, when we've time. Everything I can think of."

His brother suddenly stopped, causing Godric to step into his back. Salazar over his shoulder at him and explained, "Astronomy is taught by Professor Sinistra. I think she's Italian." Godric blinked blankly at that description. Salazar grimaced. "Sicilian or Roman decent...very distant descent?...Anyway, that's her name." Salazar turned back to the stairs and started climbing them once more. "You don't have any homework, I don't think."

As they reached the top of the tower stairs, Salazar stopped once more. "You've a minute, maybe." He tilted his head to the top where a door waited, closed. Green eyes locked onto Godric's gaze. "I'll be near. I'm not going anywhere."

Godric nodded and climbed the rest of the steps, his mind immediately reaching out to the bonds.—Salazar was alive. There was no need to worry. He had no reason to panic. (He had never panicked so much in his life-past life. [Real life?])—He opened the door and stepped through. He couldn't stop his gaze snapping to Salazar as he closed the door.

"Mr. Longbottom, please take your seat. You got here just in time."

The Gryffindor founder turned and forced his gaze to the teacher. Her tan complexion did remind him of the mediterranean. She was also gorgeous.—He should probably not think about that. (His wife murdered him, he could fucking look: Except he was in an eleven year olds body. [Fuck—or was it no fucking?])

"Neville! Over here," hissed Hermione from her spot at one of the half circle tables up front and center. A seat was empty beside her. It was the only empty seat.

Godric claimed it while he tried not to stare at the room or the teacher. (Salazar could have given a better warning.) Luckily for Godric, Professor Sinstra jumped into the class topic the moment he had settled at the table.

Professor Sinstra tapped her wand against the giant golden orrery as she spoke, "We have covered the high overview of our solar system. Now we will delve a little deeper.–" Parts of the orrery began to slowly rotate and shimmer. "–The rotational motion of the immediate bodies of the universe holds sway across whole fields of magic. Today we begin looking into the depths of each."

"Earth." She announced as she flicked her wand and the orrery's shimmer flared. The planet representing Earth glowed a vibrant gold but it wasn't solid. It was a net of golden lines spread across the surface of the metal ball. They weren't perfect circles. The lines shifted and traveled in imitation of the elliptical motion of the planet around the sun.

"Our planet is crisscrossed with leylines. leylines are the flows of magic, often poetically described as the veins and arteries of our planet. Some are called rivers of magic for they have shifted over the centuries but move very slowly. Others move with the season, a few are tied to the water currents and a number to the air currents...Where two leylines meet is often called a crossing. Hogwarts was built upon a crossing...An intersection of three is considered a lake. In summer the Sagano bamboo forest of Japan, at least the part not visible to muggles, is a leyline lake." She looked around at them as she continued to lecture, "There are a few places where more than five leylines cross, though all are temporary events. One example is the Bermuda Triangle. The epicenter of that triangle is a leyline sea."

She waved her wand and the orrery faded until only the Earth was visible. A jab of her wand shifted the golden ball into a blue and green orb. The color change caused the golden lines to become more evident. Her final flick of her wand had the orb grow in size. The planet left a trail of gold dust behind as it traveled in an almost circle. It slowly created a golden line, revealing the elliptical path.

"It was in 1553 that Nicolaus Copernicus first theorized the motions of the planets. Nearly two hundred years later, in 1732, our own Headmaster Amrose Swott discovered the influence the elliptic motion of our planet has on its own magical nucleus…"(2)

Godric relaxed his mental grasp of his bond to Salazar as he focused on the lecture. It was fascinating. This connection could aid in understanding why certain magics worked better at different times of the year. It was surprisingly easy, once relaxed, to focus on the new information instead of the strange circumstance he was in.

He didn't entirely get it but the model and professor's words indicated knowledge about the heavens unknown last he had lived. The planet moved in space, the heavens he guessed, and that motion affected leylines. It would take some investigating or a lecture (or three) from Salazar to learn it all. His hazel gaze flicked down to the book Sally had given him.

oooP3ooo

(Harry)

Salazar stared at the closed door. He could feel the light tugging from Godric through their bonds.—He was mentally clinging to them himself.

He wasn't alone. That thought kept ringing through his thoughts.

His brother was reborn. Godric was here. Neville was Godric.

The reincarnate forced his gaze from the door. He forced his mental grasp on the bond to release. Then he slowly descended the tower. He didn't make it far; just a few flights down where he found a window opening large enough for a small student to lounge in.

Thoughts continued to circle around Godric's return. He couldn't focus on anything else—He tried.—Salazar looked out the window. The forbidden forest sat dark and solid under a grey sky.

Hogwarts reached out through their own bond and wrapped him in the warmth of a hug. The Slytherin allowed himself to just be. He couldn't grasp anything more than that at the moment. Salazar fell into a meditative state as he let his subconscious process the changes in life.

Warmth pulsed from the bonds twined around and through his magical core, through the blood pumping through his body, though his very soul. The ache and strain of the wards rippled against his mind. The multifaceted rope connecting him to Hogwarts bubbled with warm joy. The triad of bonds with Godric—bonds he had ached at the loss of but had not fully realized until they had returned—throbbed and churned as they settled.

By the Mother, he had not realized how much he had ached for their warmth. Now that they were returned, he prayed they would never be ripped from him again. He could not imagine how Godric had lived with the broken bonds.

Or perhaps he had not lived that long, Salazar thought with a worried frown. The triad of bonds they had were the closest connection one could create. Only the bond between magical twins was stronger and that was because the bond was formed in the womb. Godric and he became brothers of blood, magic, and soul but magical twins were born brothers of blood, magic, and soul. Most twins could not handle living without their other half.

He shook his head at his thoughts. Godric had lived to see Helena grown and killed and returned a ghost. That was at least a decade after Salazar had died.

Had Godric wed?—Salazar frowned and aborted scratching at his irritated tattoos across his ribs.—The newspaper had claimed Salazar a rumored descendant of Godric. He had laughed at the thought but he hadn't asked the others. He hadn't really wanted to know if his brother had lived on without him.

Salazar attempted to imagine the woman that must have claimed Godric. Amusement bubbled up at the possibilities. He imagined Helga finally succeeded in matchmaking. That was one upside to dying when he had: No more random woman with strange ties to Helga staying the month for a "visit".

Thoughts continued to circle around Godric's return. Eventually, the bell rang out announcing the end of the class. A tug from his brother bonds whispered through Salazar and he automatically reached out to tug back. Focusing, he could feel Godric walking down the flight of stairs overhead.

Salazar silently watched the score of his peers trudge down the stairs. The Ravenclaws rushed off to their next class while the Gryffindors trailed behind. Godric stopped at the step most conveniently placed by his window seat.

Hazel eyes set on a round face with dirty blond locks looked up at him. It was nothing like Godric's past form but Salazar looked rather unlike his old self too. The Gryffindor fit Neville as Neville fit the fiery founder. It didn't make sense if he thought too hard about it—Godric was fire and bold power: Neville was a bundle of quiet nerves, a boy struggling under the weight of the world dealt to him.

He hopped out of the window seat. And the two reincarnated boys followed their peers down to herbology. Neither said anything, it wasn't the place nor the time for more words. Godric took in the changes to Hogwarts. Salazar watched his brother watch the world.

oooP4ooo

Godric's wide-eyed panic had Salazar almost laughing. He stifled that reaction but couldn't stop the smirk as he silently showed Godric how to care for his basil sprouts through example with his own. The little green plants had filled each pot. Each sprouted seed now had large twin leaves, some even growing their next set. All they needed to do was water them still.

His brother stumbled along and, amazingly, the plant didn't burst into flames. The way the Gryffindor was acting, you'd think it would catch fire at the moment the first drop of water reached the soil. (Salazar had never actually seen a plant burst into flames because of Godric's presence...except that one time with the giants but Godric had done that on purpose.—He was almost certain it had been on purpose.)

Professor Sprout floated multiple large boxes to her work table as she stalked into the greenhouse and called out, "Take your seats! Basils shelved, wands away, and quills out!"

The Gryffindors and Slytherins scrambled to complete their watering. Salazar, with a glance at the distracted professor, helped tilt Godric's watering pot up before he drowned the poor sprouts and took both plants to their shelf.

When he had returned, Godric had set out the notebook and pen he had let his brother borrow. Salazar hummed non-commentally as he pulled out a spare quill. His brother's shoulders were tight, his eyes were ever so slightly wide, and the faintest hint of panic gleamed in them as his hazel gaze flicked about to take in all the various, flammable plants he might be forced to take care of.

"Today," announced Professor Sprout, "We will begin to discuss various manifestations of magic within plantlife. Magic is imbued within nearly every plant the world over. Some plants reveal their magical properties from a glance but others must be handled a certain way to coax the magic out."

She tapped the first box and the wood vanished, leaving behind a small plant. Salazar tilted his head thoughtfully at the soft silver-green leaves. It looked like a tiny bush. He recognized it as a plant Evander kept for his various healing creams.

"Does anyone know this plant?" asked the professor. Her sharp gaze snapped to the hand that stabbed through the air before she even finished her question. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"That is dittany, Professor." Hermione announced. Salazar watched as she sat with her back rod straight, gaze intense as she worked to recall everything she could about the plant. "It's a healing and restorative herb. According to One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi it can be eaten raw or applied as a tincture to shallow cuts. If its applied t–"

Professor Sprout raised her hand, palm out to silence the girl. Hermione obediently quieted, though she squirmed slightly with the need to continue to explain.

"Correct, two points to Gryffindor." The woman looked about the class before she continued to explain, "Dittany is an example of a seemingly mundane plant with fantastical properties if only you are aware how to bring them out. There is nothing magical to your eyes, to your touch, to your nose. It is only when you taste it, do you learn of its magical possibilities. But, what is the first rule of handling plants?"

Hermione's hand stabbed into the air once more but Professor Sprout nodded to Gregory, "Mr. Goyle?"

"Never taste a plant unless you're two hundred percent certain it's not poisonous."

Amusement lifted Professor Sprout's lips into a soft smile. Salazar couldn't help but smile at the childish answer himself. He found himself sharing a faint grin with Godric as the answer helped his brother focus away from the plants themselves and onto the lecture. After a moment, Salazar turned back to the teacher and raised his hand. The move had his back rub against the chair, both irritating and soothing the runic tattoos there. He firmly ignored the desire to scratch his back against the chair more.

"That is part of the answer, Mr. Goyle. A point to Slytherin." Her gaze moved to Salazar, the only one with a hand up now. Her gaze helped him abort any attempt to scratch at the irritated skin. "Mr. Potter?"

Salazar's gaze wandered over his peers as he spoke.—Godric was watching him with amusement. Hermione looked like she wanted to glare but was scrambling to write his words down also. "We are to avoid interacting with any plant without permission from you and we are to keep our distance as magical plants can have defensive mechanisms that may harm us beyond poison."

"Two points to Slytherin," she said as she nodded at his answer, "The one thing you should take away from this class is how to be careful around all unknown plants—And many you are comfortable working with...Now, Dittany is an example of a plant that may affect us through taste and does not possess any obvious magical qualities at first inspection. Another example is Gillyweed which gives the ability to breath underwater when ingested. Though, once you become aware of the most common plant formations, Gillyweed's physical form will hint that it has magical properties. You will work with Gillyweed in your fourth year when you are allowed in the aquatic-house."

Professor Sprout tapped the next box. It vanished, revealing a pot of daffodils. Salazar's eyebrows shot up when one flower began, and then the rest joined in, honking.

"Some plants reveal their magic through sound. Who can tell me about this plant? Mr. Finnigan?"

"Me Ma's got those—Honking Daffodils. She's trained them to honk to scare the bunnies away from the garden," Seamus explained.

Professor Sprout nodded. "They are commonly trained as the first alert to intruders or to protect a section of the garden from pests. Honking Daffodils is a species of Narcissus and used in a few potions to aid or impede sound. It is one of the least dangerous plants that uses sound as a defensive mechanism. A potentially fatal sounding plant is the mandrake whose unfiltered scream can and has killed people. Each of you will learn to handle this dangerous plant next year so pay attention now and remember my rules."

She tapped the next box, revealing a pot of thick bladed grass—or it looked like thick grass. The eye watering smell that filled the room indicated otherwise. The children in closest pushed their seats back and covered their noses in horror. Salazar blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear his eyes of tears. The sting of the smell only produced more tears.

"Smell is a more common defensive reaction. A potent enough smell can clear an area of any threat or bring the needed pollentators," the old woman said with a smirk at them all, "Who would like to tell the class about this plant?"

A number of children tried to put their hand up but had to abort to cover their noses or wipe their eyes. The professor finally turned back to Seamus. "Mr. Finnagan, does your mother have this in her garden?"

The blond nodded from behind his hands.

"Why don't you tell us about it then?"

Seamus grimaced but dropped his hands and said, "It's an onion—Ma uses it to keep gnomes away from the garden too. She cuts it up and boils water with it and sprays the water over near their burrows...uh...It's called Pung...pungent? Pungent onion."

"Almost," Sprout explained, "Three points to Gryffindor for both your answers. Anyone else?"

"It's the Pungous Onion and is used in various potions to counter fungal and bacterial issues. It is also used in the Boil cure potion."

Salazar blinked at the voice. His head snapped to his left and stared. That had been his brother's voice. Godric looked slightly bewildered himself.

Professor Sprout nodded slowly, a curious frown directed at Godric as if she was trying to catch something. She said slowly as she looked over the founder, "That is correct, Mr. Longbottom...Please raise your hand next time, though."

Godric nodded, his gaze flicked to Salazar. Salazar could see the confusion in hazel eyes. His brother's hand clenched the pen in white knuckles.

"Last," their professor announced as she tapped the final and largest box into vanishing. A pot of vines writhed across the table and up into the air. One vine latched onto the pot of onions and pulled it near. Professor Sprout waved her wand about, casting a circle of shade over the plant. The vines stopped writhing.

"Can anyone tell me about this plant?"

Salazar spied Godric lifting his hand at the edge of his sight. His brother still looked confused and mildly distrubed.

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom?" Professor Sprout said with a pleased smile.

Godric dropped his hand as he answered, "That is a Devil's Snare. It is known to ensnare anything within reach of its creepers and tendrils, often strangling the creature foolish enough to struggle against its ever tightening hold. The harder the creature struggles to free itself, the tighter the hold becomes. Devil's Snare prefers the dark and damp. Fire is one of its common weaknesses."

Professor Sprout nodded along with Godric's explanation, though she was clearly curious about something now. She would have cut him off, like she had done to Hermione, but something kept her from interrupting after the basic answer she wanted had been given. Salazar guessed it was the accent change. "Very good, another three points to Gryffindor."

She turned from her desk and waved her wand to summon a blackboard. Another swoosh of the wand had chalk rise and slowly write out the various common manifestations of magic within plants.

"Movement within plants are both common and perhaps misleading," the professor continued her lecture as the chalk worked to catch up, "Mundane plants also move, for they are living things. Roots delve into the ground and actively search out water and nutrients. Flowers will close and open depending on the time of day or night. Leaves and whole plants will grow towards the light. Leaves may fold onto themselves when water drips onto them." She looked over at them all, watching for any child failing to pay attention. "Those are all natural actions of plants, for both mundane and magical. It is the more active movements of a plant that can indicate their magical properties."

Their teacher nodded down at the Devil's Snare. "Devil's Snare uses its abilities to defend but also to collect nutrients through the decomposing forms of the creatures it kills. The Whomping Willow is another example. A specimen can be found on Hogwarts grounds, on the Southeastern side near Hogsmeade. Perhaps you all will take a few minutes out of your day to take a gander? Don't get too close, of course, but seeing such a powerful plant in action would be a grand thing, wouldn't it?"

Professor Sprout shifted the lecture away from the specific examples she had brought to general ways to detect the various forms of defensive magical properties within plants. Godric ended up answering more questions than Hermione—which was entirely normal for Neville but Godric didn't seem to remember being Neville.

The male founders of Hogwarts followed their first year peers back into the castle. Salazar snagged Godric's robe sleeve as he broke from the crowd and headed down to the kitchens instead of the Great Hall. He looked over the painting of the bowl of fruit for a moment and spied a snake motiy painted into the swirl design of the bowl. A tiny tongue darted out every so often.

Salazar tilted his head, curious at the sight.—How many paintings had little snakes in them?

"Sally?" Godric prodded.

He answered with a hiss, "ss:_Open_:ss"

The tiny snake's tongue darted out and vibrated in response. Then the painting swung open.

"Do all doors open when you order them to?" Godric asked as he slowly stepped into the kitchens, hazel eyes snapping about, taking in all the House elves darting around. "And why are they all cooking? We've eaten."

"We had breakfast," Salazar countered, "and I don't know. I haven't wandered the entire castle hissing at things yet."

A smirk flickered across his brother's face, his attention moved from the elves preparing lunch back to Salazar. "Maybe you should. Though, whoever set the magic up might have gotten creative. You might have to sing or rhyme—serenade a door."

"I'm not serenading anything," Salazar huffed out, shoving Godric slightly.

His brother's smirk widened and the tension from the day faded away, temporarily forgotten. "You've sung to trees; the doors are trees too. They must feel left out."

"They're dead–"

"Masters Sally, Rie," Mipsy greeted them with a bounce to her feet. Salazar was starting to think it her form of bow. Or maybe she was just excitable. "You be wanting lunch?"

Godric's smirk dropped. "Lunch?"

"There's three meals a day, now." Salazar explained before he answered Mipsy. "I would love a cup of tea, dear. No need to feed me."

"I'm not hungry," Godric agreed before his stomach growled. He frowned down at his midsection before he saw Mipsy's disbelief. "I'm not. Honest."

"You be calling me if you decide otherwise," she said in disbelief before she waved them to the table Salazar had come to sit at whenever he used the kitchens. Mipsy had a cup in front of him and Godric a moment later.

His brother made a slight face but took a sip. Surprise flashed by. "What the hell is this?"

"Tea."

"It tastes good, not like leaf piss at all." Godric sent a sharp look at Salazar. "They haven't gone and changed how tea is made, have they?"

Salazar stared at the blond. "No...not this tea. I mean, it's the same as it has always been...There are other options now."

Godric frowned down at the cup but he didn't say anything else. A quiet fell over the two as they drank their tea and watched the elves work. Salazar relaxed.—He had his brother at his side once more. They were home, even if it was the wrong age. So much had to be done but he didn't have to do it all by himself.

His emerald gaze moved slowly from the elves to Godric. Though the strain of things had faded from Godric's shoulders, his jaw was still tense, his grip on the mug was tight. Godric was not ready to hear of everything that was wrong.

Salazar didn't know what he could do to help Godric adjust. Maybe he could help with the memories hidden away. It was delicate work, though. And dangerous when it involved still developing minds.

He frowned thoughtfully down into his teacup. Did they have minds that were developing like their physical bodies? Salazar had no idea. Some implusses indicated his mind was younger than his memories and knowledge implied. In turn, he was decently certain he was more mature than his peers. Memory and experience—the memory of experience—was what helped mature a person from child to adult but it wasn't the only indicator of age and maturity.

"Gods," Godric groaned out as he pushed his empty cup away and dropped his head to his hands, elbows on the table. "Can't I have some of Helga's mead?"

Salazar snorted and claimed Godric's tea cup. He glanced down into it but Godric pulled his attention before he saw anything interesting.

"If anything could possibly call for opening one of her mead bottles, it's this!" Godric waved his arms out to encompass the world. "This is absolute shit!" Hazel eyes snapped to Salazar. "I will be ever glad you've been brought back but a thousand years? What's the point of it all? We don't belong here–"

"Hogwarts is our home," Salazar cut in, sharp and firm in his resolve, "No one can take her from us. And magic is ours.—We belong."

Godric shot back, tone as sharp and firm in the counter he snaps out, "They call youHarry Potter. You hide amongst children! How is that living? What is the point of going to classes you do not need?!"

Salazar frowned down into Godric's mug without seeing. He had spent the last eight years playing the child. There had been no point in fighting the world. It had been exhausting even thinking about the effort of doing any of that.

He had been alone. Magic had been hidden from sight. What had been the point?

There had been no reason to go on. Everyone had been dead. He had imagined everything that had matter couldn't possibly matter anymore.—How could it after so long and everyone dead?

Finding the little, dilapidated grove had given him a new purpose. Salazar had slowly worked his way through his grief and exhaustion. He had forced himself to look forward. That included accepting some changes, though the full implications still eluded him.

"I am," Salazar finally said as he focused onto the tea dredges, "Harry James Potter to the world because that is what my parents named me in this life."

A bumblebee sat in the middle of his brother's cup. Salazar stared down at it, feeling a little dumb.—His tea had shown a bee turn into a lion. Godric was Neville. Neville was a Longbottom. Longbottoms are likely the modern name for Langbothm. Langbothm had a bumblebee represent their House magicks. (Maybe he was finally getting this whole divination thing? Though, that probably required him figuring out what he saw before it happened.)

He looked up to his brother, refocusing. "We may have to reveal who we are–were…" Salazar frowned, uncertain how to phrase it and not wanting to delve into the nightmare of what being reborn meant. (Was he Harry Potter with memories of Salazar Slytherin? Or was he Salazar Slytherin reborn and that was that? Could he be possessing a child since three instead? If he wasn't possessing the child and was both Salazar and Harry, what made him Harry Potter when he had really, only, the memories of an entire other life to influence who he was?)

Salazar shook his head at his thoughts, ignored Godric's raised brow, and said, "What matters is we know who we are and we know we belong in this world as much as the next person. We just have to make a place for ourselves but that's nothing new—We did that once before. This time we can avoid some stupidity, too."

The blond slowly nodded.

"Master Sally be late for history," announced Mipsy. She snapped her fingers.

Salazar felt her magic swirl about Godric's cup still in his hands. A glance down revealed it was clean. "Thank you Mipsy but I will be skipping...:"

Mipsy started to refill the mugs before he finished speaking. "You should go to class but you never go to this class. I will tell you before transfiguration starts."

"Thank you—"

"Why are you skipping history of all classes?" Godric interrupted, "That seems like the most useful class out of the lot."

Salazar made a face at his brother, pushing the refilled mug across the table as he explained, "It's taught by a ghost."

Godric cupped his mug between his hands and tilted his head thoughtfully. "Sounds like an excellent idea."

"It does but actual application leaves much to be desired," Salazar admitted before he took a sip of his tea. The warmth and smell of mint filled his senses. His eyes closed as he breathed in the calming scent. "I think, that's where I should start off—the staff."

His brother groaned. "Can't we have ale at least?"

Salazar shook his head and looked to the blond. "Children aren't allowed ale or mead or anything alcoholic these days."

"Gods…" Godric tugged a hand through his hair. "We've tea piss, that ġeolurēad liquid(3), and, what, water?"

"Butterbeer is very slightly alcoholic." Salazar supplied in amusement, "And we've fruit juices...and fizzy drinks. The orange liquid—ġeolurēad—is either orange juice or pumpkin juice."

"What is a pumpkin and orange?"

Salazar paused at that. Pumpkins came from the American continent. His eyes grew wide at the thought of just how much Godric needed to know. He had had the excuse of being a toddler as he learned all this. Godric did not.

"Alcohol would be nice," he admitted as he turned back to his brother, "You need your memories as Neville back sooner than later."

Godric made a face at that. "The staff?"

Salazar frowned at the change of topic but obliged. He spent the rest of the time explaining everything he could. Mipsy interrupted before he was late for transfiguration.

oooP5ooo

(Neville)

The stained glass windows depicting their patronuses still stood, vibrant and playful. Students sat around studying and socializing.—He didn't know what to do with himself.

His gaze moved to the closed door. Salazar was stuck in there learning about a new discipline. Transfiguration sounds like a combination of alchemy and conjuration. It was probably a mix of skills developed around the world that someone had decided were related.

Godric was intrigued by the idea. It would have to wait, though.

After everything he had been through and learned, he needed an outlet. The Hogwarts founder spun on the balls of his feet and stalked from the study area.

His attention was focused partly on the bonds. One shift towards the worse and he would be at Salazar's side in an instance. (Or as quickly as this body could move, at least.) Sally would not die on him again.

The rest of his attention focused on navigating the castle, but that wasn't particularly difficult. He had lived here for over thirty years. It was memorized paths he tread, gaze more focused on the students, the ghosts, and horde of artwork. Down a flight of hidden stairs only present every other day, through a hall that had windows showing the grounds from the seventh floor, a turn and down another hall with windows looking out into the loch, and back to the ground floor, around a corner from the main hallway, and down to the end of a long corridor was his suite of classrooms. A window at the end of the corridor, where a door should have been, made Godric slow to a stop.

His gaze wandered over the hallway in confusion. Gaze paused on a door with a plaque of Argus Filch inscribed on it. There was a frame beside the door. Godric slowly walked up to the frame as he tried to place himself. A list titled Forbidden Objects within Hogwarts Halls was preserved behind glass. It was a very long list.

Godric slowly twisted about and took in the corridor. The hall felt familiar. But all his classrooms were gone. He looked out the large window. This was the ground floor.

He frowned as he came to the frustrating conclusion that someone had moved his classrooms. The thought to find the culprit and punish them flashed through his mind before he recalled what year it was. Then he grimaced.

Hogwarts had been built so it could be changed. They had done it for defensive purposes and so future generations could easily change the school to fit their needs. The needs of people changed with the times.—They all had known that.

They came to appreciate the ability to shift the rooms after Salazar had died. Political maneuvering had meant hiding the ritual classroom and pools. Nosey children and adults had meant hiding Salazar's personal suite, too. He had simply never considered anyone daring to move his rooms without his permission. Of course, it shouldn't have mattered once he had died.

Godric couldn't help the burn of anger over the change.—To his memory, it had been 1091 yesterday. From his perspective, everything had changed when it shouldn't have.—His hands clenched as the burning anger grew.

Couldn't one thing stay the same? Why move the dueling hall from the ground floor anyway? The class spent most of the time outdoors.

A loud crack rang through the hall. Godric spun around with narrowed eyes, in no mood to deal with a destructive child or even a clumsy one. The glass frame with the list of forbidden objects was a spider web of shards. The list had smoldered into a blackened mess. Faint red glowed in sections.

His anger died. Horror and fear took its place. When was the last time he had lost control of his fire without even feeling the magic break free?

Not since he was a child. (Wasn't he a child once more? Wasn't his core in ruins, incapable of doing the simplest of spell and impossible to properly control? [No. He wasn't Neville. Neville wasn't him. This magical core was not his. He was just borrowing the body for a time.])

Godric stalked out of the area.—He wasn't fleeing.

Down the reincarnate swept, into the dungeons, to a plaque of snake heads, and into a hidden tunnel where a familiar, now ridiculously clean, ritual classroom stood. (There was nothing and no one to burn here.)

oooP6ooo

(Harry)

Salazar slowly walked down into the dungeons, following the general direction the bonds guided him towards. He had expected Godric to hunt down the dueling hall to whittle away the time. He hadn't thought Godric would return to Salazar's classroom. It wasn't a place the redhead had bothered with outside the weekly baths and to complete the odd ritual.

Things changed, though. Salazar hummed to himself as he admitted that. Godric was now blond, after all. He was now dark haired. Those two changes were raindrops amongst the thousand other changes in the world, all of them things Godric couldn't recall. Or didn't know even as Neville.

He stepped into his empty classroom. The House elves had cleared it of the grime. His gaze wandered over the room, spied the side rooms with stone shelves for students on-going work and storage for necessary ritual materials, but he mostly just took in the lack of anything left. His runic stone moonlights made the room glow an eerie white-blue.

It was just an empty, square room.

There was nothing left to tell of the history he had with it. Time had washed away all hints. It was just a forgotten room once hidden for the treasures it had held.—Still held, if the ritual rooms were whole.

Salazar forced himself to follow the bond into the room with the smaller cleansing pool. The pool was empty once more. It wasn't supposed to be. The steam helped heat the dungeons and helped pull residue magic off the walls, cleansing the school as much as the people that used it. Salazar went to the controls and activated the cleansing magic. Water rumbled into the pool, runes flared to life across the bowl, and heat slowly radiated out into the room.

He watched the pool fill for a long moment, uncertain what to do. Salazar could imagine what Godric was going through. It was not an easy thing, waking in a different time and place and body than you were used to.

His own awakening had to be simpler, though. He had very few memories of being anything but Salazar, and those memories were that of a young child still learning of the world. Salazar had the chance to grieve and learn and grow without anyone around to question it. Certainly, somethings hadn't truly struck him until reaching Hogwarts but he had still had time to digest the changes and imagine what the magical world—Hogwarts—would be like without people he knew and traditions he treasured.

Godric had neither.

His brother didn't have the opportunity Salazar had. People would start asking questions if Godric acted too oddly. His only advantage was how few knew him.

Emerald eyes slowly moved from the pool to the blond. Godric sat against a wall, his gaze directed up at the tiled ceiling. The moonlight reflected off his eyes in a way that denoted possible tears but his cheeks remained dry. He looked lost and frustrated and very much like he wanted to be left alone.

Salazar left Godric to his thoughts. Instead, he took a quick look-see into the attached ritual room. Lemon scent hit his nose and Salazar grimaced.

That was not the material to clean a ritual room. He looked over the sharp, angular walls and ceiling with grooves set to hold tablets, allowing the room to be set and changed for hundreds of different rituals that required three dimensional markings. There were no tablets now—which was a relief. Salazar didn't want to find out what magic would have built up over a thousand years from a partly set ritual—At a glance, the grooves appeared in place and whole but he would have to go over the room in detail later.

The Slytherin silently walked around the pool, on the other side of his brother, and went from the small room to the classroom and then into the larger cleansing room. It took a short moment to activate the large pool. Then he took a peek into the second ritual room.

He frowned at the cracked and chipped floor. Whole sections of the large slate tiles were missing. This would take considerable work to fix. Until it was, the room was useless. The flooring had to be smooth and flat for the ritual circles this particular room had been built for.

Salazar's eyes slowly moved from the floor to the plain, cracked and aged walls, and up until he found the ceiling. A giant, worrisome crack ran across it. Depending on where this room sat, Hogwart might have an unstable foundation. Without Helga, Salazar wasn't certain how to go about investigating such an issue. (He was fairly certain, from the lack of windows in the classroom, that the suite of rooms had been hidden in the depths of Hogwarts's dungeons.)

Green eyes stared unblinkingly at the large crack for a long few minutes. A huff of air escaped, shoulders dropped. Salazar spun about, his robes snapping out around him dramatically and he took a few steps back into the cleansing room before he stopped once more.

"Mipsy?"

The House elf pop-clicked into the room with a beaming smile, "Master Sally?"

His worries faded at the sight and a smile tugged at his lips. "A few things, if you've the moment."

"Certainly," she said with a nod, her ears slapping her shoulders from her enthusiastic motion. The runic moonlight reflected off her large eyes. Her attention never wavered from Salazar.

"The pools need to be left full, the magic set to what I have left them at, as they help heat and cleanse the school. And, please do not use any cleaning products within the ritual rooms." Shame flooded her expression and Salazar hurried in his explanation, "They will require a specific cleansing routine. I can show it to you when I've the material on hand, if you'd like?"

Large eyes went round with wonder. A soft tremble slowly grew across her form. He couldn't tell if it was excitement or horror. "Master Sally would teach Mipsy? Master would clean?"

Salazar shifted in discomfort at her attention. "I-Yes." A thought jumped to mind and Salazar spoke up before the House elf went ballistic. "But I'd like to learn something in return."

The elf nodded in quick, poorly restrained excitement. "Yes Master Sally! YES, I be teaching you and you be teaching me!"

Salazar caught her shoulders and squatted down to hold her to the floor, struck with the vision of her flying away because of her excitement. "Don't you want to know what you'll be teaching me?"

Mipsy stilled and stared at him, eyes nearly level with Salazar's for the first time. An odd noise escaped from her when she looked ready to respond. She stuffed a few fingers into her mouth and gave a short nod.

Amusement bubbled up from his bond with Hogwarts. It twined about Salazar's own amusement and pulled a grin to his face. "I'd like to learn Helga's recipes—any of them you are willing to teach me."

A squeak escaped the little elf. Her fingers flew out of her mouth as she sputtered in joyful horror. "You cook?!"

Indignation spiked through his amusement. He was perfectly capable of cooking. The annoyance died with the next truth. That hadn't been true in his past life.

"I do." Salazar answered instead. He regarded the House elf with a tilt of his head and a soft squeeze of her shoulders. "Do we have an agreement?"

The little elf gave a sharp nod. "We do."

Salazar nodded back before he stood upright. His gaze moved to the doorway and towards Godric. Steam had filled the rooms. The moonlight reflected off the clouds of water particles, obscuring the world about him. He could barely see through it.

"You needed something else?" Mipsy asked, tugging lightly on his robe sleeve to pull his attention.

He turned back to her with a nod. "Yes, do you know where the dueling hall is?"

"It be on the third floor," she answered readily, "but it being used by Heads master. You cannot use it now. It's forbidden."

He tugged a hand through his hair with a sigh. "I see...Is there anywhere Godric and I can go that's similar to the dueling hall then? We'll need some practice swords, if there are any, too."

The little elf frowned thoughtfully. Her large eyes wandered over to his empty classroom but before she brought it up, and made Salazar decline it since they would need more space, Hogwarts answered instead.

A vision swept through his mind. The staircase shifted from the ground floor to the top. His gaze took in hallways as Hogwart guided him through the seventh floor to a tapestry. It had a man teaching trolls ballet. The image seemed to flicker as it showed the odd art piece thrice. A door appeared across from the tapestry on the third instance.

"The come and go room," squeaked Mipsy in excitement, revealing Hogwarts had shown the vision to her also.

Salazar blinked his vision back to normal and looked down at the elf. "The what room?"

She offered a slight shrug. "You think of what you want in the room and walk back and forth three times to make the door appear. You be remaking the dueling hall! Make it just as you remembered it."

"Interesting," Salazar muttered, as he tried to recall plans for such a room. Nothing came to mind but it sounded like something Rowena would think of, build it, and then tell everyone about. "Thank you Mipsy."

"Bye, bye Master!" she waved with a cheery little grin.

Another smile tugged at his lips. He was glad the little thing was becoming more comfortable with him.

Salazar returned to Godric. His brother hadn't moved though his gaze had dropped to his lap. He stopped before Godric and held out a hand. Dull hazel eyes slowly lifted to stare up at him.

"Come on," Salazar said, hand still out, "Time for you to beat the shit of me."

Life lit his brother's eyes. "You know where my hall is?"

Salazar made a face. "Yes but it's being used. Hogwarts had pointed me toward the next best option."

"Thank the gods," Godric said as he grabbed Salazar's hand.

Salazar helped pull his brother to his feet and led the way up through the stairs and hallways Hogwarts had shown him. He stopped before the tapestry of dancing trolls and nodded at it as he explained, "Think of the hall, as you want it to be, and walked past this three times."

Godric obliged without question.—It wasn't the oddest thing Salazar had asked him to do.—On the third pass, double doors materialized across from the tapestry.

His brother pushed it open and grinned viciously. Salazar grimaced as he peeked over Godric's shoulder. It was a very nice tortu-training hall. The Gryffindor snagged Salazar's arm and dragged him into the living hell. He would be black and blue tomorrow. At least Godric would be too.

oooP7ooo

(Neville)

Godric stared hard at the painting. The overweight woman stared back with narrowed eyes. A delicate glass rested on a table at her side with cracks across its surface. He had interrupted her singing, if one dared call it that. She was not happy with him.

"No entry without the password." She stated sharp and firm, clearly determined to do her duty and protect the apparent entry into his house's common room. That she must recognize Neville Longbottom as a Gryffindor student didn't matter. The painting was as useful as a bloody password locked door. What was the point of her if she didn't open for the residents on recognition?

Godric did not remember a password. Salazar had to give him directions to the bloody dorms even.—They hadn't been in the tower last he checked since said tower hadn't been completely built yet.—So here he was, trying to guess at a password and considering calling Hogwarts to let him through. He couldn't call on her though, because he had no idea what the painting would do. Salazar hadn't warned him about the paintings so they must be pretty harmless. But he would have preferred confirmation before doing anything particularly non-Neville like in front of one.

He paused from his glare, an itch in the back of his head had him turn about just in time to see an older girl turn the corner of the hall. Her dark eyes widened in surprise and Godric forced his irritation down. It was best not to glare at people as he doubted shy little Neville Longbottom ever had.

"Umm," she said as she walked up to him, "You locked out?"

Godric spied a prefect badge on her chest. Salazar had told him about the student aids. It was less aggravating that it was an aid asking him, even if she looked barely fourteen.—She was probably older but she was only a few inches taller than him.

The Gryffindor founder made a face as she stopped before him and glanced over at the painting and back. She was waiting for an answer.

"Yes."

"He doesn't have the password," announced the fat lady from her canvas.

Dark eyes flicked back and forth an instant longer. "Longbottom, right?"

Godric struggled to not make another face at that and answered as short as before, "Yes."

"Well," she said slowly, "It's quaffle for another two days." The portrait swung open and she caught the frame to hold it in place. "Be sure to check the board for the new one before you leave for breakfast on Friday."

He gave a curt nod as he climbed through the weird porthole entrance all the while trying to figure out why quaffle sounded vaguely familiar—not in it being the password but more like he should know what the troll-shit a quaffle was. The girl followed him in and tapped his shoulder lightly when he just stood at the side of the hole, taking in the red and gold common room. He forced his gaze from the new yet vaguely familiar room, and tried to give her a confident but shy and not at all not-Neville expression.

She frowned down at him with obvious concern.

"Miranda!"

Another girl materialized beside them—pale and gray eyed compared to the dark golden tan and deep brown of Miranda but so obviously related by the curve of their bone structure. The new girl was also wearing a prefect badge while being short enough to pass as a fourteen year old.

"Melie–" Miranda tried to interrupt, her dark gaze torn from Godric to the other girl.

"He said yes!" Melie squeaked out with a vibrant flush.

Godric looked about in desperation as Miranda lit up in clear excitement for her kin. Melie began rambling about a Hogsmeade visit, whatever that was. He caught sight of one of the redheads from this morning. The older boy was climbing one side of a set of spiral stairs up into the rest of the tower. Godric bolted after him as the girls delved into discussing some type of tea shop.

There were actually stairs that went up and down the tower—two sets that looked identical but he assumed the opposing stairs were for the ladies to use. The first landing up had a door with the golden number two on it. The second landing up had a door with a golden one. A ladder led up one more story into what looked like an attic. Godric listened to distant grumblings floating out of the attic trap door for a few minutes as he considered the door with the one.

Neville's room was behind the door.

"The bloody door isn't going to bite me." Godric muttered to himself before he forced his hand to move. Light streamed through the western windows, causing the deep red velvets and polished gold to glimmer as dust molts danced in the air. The, now common, feeling of deja vu rushed through him as he took in the large half-circular room.

Three beds rested in a row across the only straight wall. Each had a trunk resting before the bed and an end table to its side. The floor was covered in dirty clothing which filled the room with the aroma of sweat.

Another door besides the entry pulled his gaze. Within was a blessed bathroom. A very nice mirror was set above the sink.

Hazel eyes reflected back at him. Shadows hung heavy under them. Sunkissed skin, without a freckle in sight, covered a flabby and awkward body. Dirty blond hair fell around large ears and a round face.

Godric stared at the face in disbelief.

This wasn't him; it couldn't be.—Sally was wrong.

He had flaming hair and freckled skin. His hands were covered in calluses from years of work. He was broad and tall. Most of all, he was well past his 70th year. He was no child incapable of magic, unused to manual labor. He was a father, a teacher, a warmage, and an elementalist of the highest degree.

The founder tugged the awkward robes and sweater off and stared at the soft form. Godric traced a darkening bruise across the child's side. The skin was baby soft. Pain sang through the body as if unused to the aches and pains of training.

Neville Longbottom was a child he was possessing. He needed to convince Salazar. The children had the right to live their lives without being made prisoners within their own bodies. (If he did convince Sally, that meant Sally would return to the dead. [But wasn't he dead, also?])

If he was Neville Longbottom…

Seamus and Dean's laughter filtered into the bathroom. The Gryffindor founder turned from the mirror and threw the sweater back on. In the dorm, his fellow first years were sharing a bed, staring down at some cards.

"–always says the three of cups means it's time to party." Seamus said as he tapped a particular card Dean had drawn, "Suppose your team's going ta win this weekend."

Dean laughed and said something about a foot and a ball. Godric didn't pay them more mind. It wasn't his conversation to intrude on. His attention turned to his—Neville's—bed. (Something about the bed made it clear it was the child's.) An odd glass box sat on the end table beside it. Something about the box had him worried but he couldn't recall why. It was empty but not broken.

Godric shook his head, pushed the worry aside, and slumped on the ground before the trunk. He stared at the leather case, contemplated the lid with an embossed bumblebee within a circle of ivy for a long time.

"Nev?"

Godric looked up and found his roommates watching him. Dean frowned at him more than Seamus.

"You alright?" asked Dean kindly.

The founder gave a slight shrug and flipped open Neville's chest. A mess of clothes, parchments, and books greeted him. Godric considered the mess with hesitation. "Just need to clean up." He offered.

Seamus laughed, breaking the odd moment. "No you don't, your mum's not here!"

Those words felt like a slap in the face. The moment had him instinctively curl up into himself as if to protect himself from a projectile. Godric blinked back sudden tears and was strangely relieved that the two boys had turned back to their cards. They hadn't noticed his reaction.

Godric closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He pushed away the strange feeling and kept himself from delving into why it had happened. If Neville was his own person, the reaction was about something Godric had no right to see. He would not invade Neville's privacy anymore than he had to.

After a moment to collect himself, he turned back to the messy trunk. These were Neville's things. They weren't his.—Salazar wasn't right. He wasn't reborn into such a child. Godric would never have allowed his core to be distorted and twisted and all but ruined.

His eyes moved inadvertently back to the other boys. Their words rang foriegn to his ears when he focused. There were so many signs that pointed to Salazar being right. (He could not be.)

He turned back to the trunk. Godric had to know something about Neville to pass off as the child. The options were stealing the child's memories or investigating his property. There was no true option.

Godric dug into the trunk, and started to organize the objects into piles. He collected all the parchments. Unused pieces were placed in one pile, ones written-on were placed in another. Clothing were pulled out next. Anything that smelled too foul was tossed towards a corner. Books were stacked haphazardly besides a small pile of shoes.

The clicking of something breakable caused him to pause in his reorganizing. Godric shifted onto his knees and patted the last messy stack of clothing. Something squarish was hidden within the folds. He used both hands to carefully lift it and unwrap a large dress-like shirt.

Underneath was a square of glass and wood. There was an image placed in between the two materials. The image was of a couple. Smiles were directed up at him. Hands rose and waved. The man tilted the woman and kissed her. They were full of such life. Joy radiated out from them.

A maelstrom of emotions slammed through him.—Sorrow and hate and pride and pain and so much want.—Neville looked like the round faced woman in the image. His clothing resembled the man's.

The founder slowly set it down on top of the odd dress-shirt it had been wrapped in.

Part of him wanted to investigate the couple. Who they were tugged at the back of his mind, as if little Neville was pushing him to know. But the emotions tied to them and his investigation of the child's things was enough of an invasion. He did not need to know anything else.

Godric stared over the piles of vaguely familiar things. He had a stack of ridiculously styled tunics and knits and robes. None of it was practical. He could barely move in the robes. The knits and tunics were thick and heavy and didn't breathe at all. He was going to sweat through them in no time.

There was a stack of completed homework and scatterbrained, childish notes. Most were marked with large, red As and Ts. Big Os and EEs covered Neville's herbology homework. He could see places where his knowledge had started to slip into Neville's mind. (Something about the red marks told him they were grades. The Ts weren't good—he had no idea why, though.)

Various miscellaneous items were stacked in their own pile. There was a glass ball filled with gray smoke that turned red when he held it.—Godric couldn't even guess at its purpose.—Neville had a box with compartments filled with seeds and acorns and nuts. None were marked. Godric could name most of them (and that wasn't freaky at all). A small box filled with empty candy wrappers made his chest ache with a jumble of emotions almost as bad as the image of the couple. The last item, a large box filled with jars and bags of bugs of all things, gave neither an emotional response nor a strange set of knowledge.

None of it gave him any real answers. Nothing triggered a memory that would prove Salazar right.—If this was his new life, the memories should just come to him, shouldn't they? Or how else was he supposed to remember them? If he had to hunt for them, wasn't that really just him forcing Neville to give memories up to him? Impressions and the nagging feeling of missing something didn't mean these were his memories he no longer recalled.

Shoulders slumped at the circle of thoughts and worries. It was exhausting worrying about everything. He couldn't recall worrying so much before.

Why was he worrying so much?

He had no idea. (It was 1991. Salazar was back from the dead. He was somehow possessing a child. [It might be his body.])

Godric picked up a textbook and flipped through it as he tried to decide what to do. Part of him wanted to throw it against a wall. (He didn't. He wasn't a child.)

He knew what Salazar wanted him to do: Find the lost memories. Godric couldn't and wouldn't until he knew that Neville and he were one and the same.

Parchment flapped out of the book and scattered across the ground in front of him. It was more homework and notes. A huff of air escaped, amused and annoyed at the child—someone had never taught the boy how to manage his schooling properly.

He went through each book and sorted all the parchments: Blanks, graded homework, notes, and what might be notes or unfinished homework or even drafts of homework, though he doubted the child was that proactive.

A letter fell out of one book. Godric tried to ignore it. It was none of his business. (A voice whispered in his head. 'We have been reborn.' It sounded like Salazar.)

The founder yanked the worn letter open. It was more a note than a proper letter. Uncertainty and worry filtered through him, distant but striking. It made him stare at the script a second time. He found himself attempting to dissect the (un)kind words.

He didn't think he liked Augusta Longbottom. (His grandmother, his mind supplied with no explanation.) And it didn't seem like she cared much for him either.

Godric looked up from the letter in frustration, feeling like he should be able to pick apart more from the words than he did. His gaze moved to the picture of the couple. They beamed at him. (He knew who they were. [He refused to acknowledge the relationship sitting on the tip of his tongue.])

Light flared across the room. Seamus yelped. Dean made a startled noise. Godric stuffed his frustration into the back of his mind as his gaze snapped up to the lights. The magic flames shrank as he bottled up his emotions. Only small dark circles against the walls or ceiling indicated the firelight had ever reached any of the stone.

A scowl flashed across his face and he stuffed the letter back into the book. Everything was stuffed a little haphazardly, but still organized, into the trunk. He would deal with the papers tomorrow. His schedule was in the pile or a book somewhere. He would need that.

But now, he needed sleep. He hadn't slept since waking in the grove. Maybe tomorrow he'd wake up and the world would have righted itself with the added bonus of Salazar being alive once more. Godric grabbed a set of clothes with snoring sheep on them and went to bed.

Probably because of the stress of possessing Neville, the strangeness that had invaded Hogwarts, and his physical training, sleep hit him like a graphorn. One moment he was staring up into the bed's canopy, and the next he was out.

He stood on a pier. His feet were at the very edge. Excitement coursed through him. He leaned over to peer into the watery depths. Cousin Humphrey had said there were fish!

Something slammed into his back. He could not stay upright. He had only a second to scream before water surrounded him. It filled his still open mouth. Twisted through his tummy. Pulled him down.

He could not breath.

He didn't know how to swim.

He sank like a stone.

Godric woke with a gasp and a pounding heart. The nightmare was blurred and faded quickly, but he recalled drowning.

He hadn't had such a nightmare in years and it made no sense now. Godric had gotten over the rough lessons his father had forced him through years ago. He could swim, could deal with the discomfort his magic shifted with when he submerged into water.

The reincarnate rubbed his face in frustration. He was missing something. He had the feeling that he had been missing something for a long time. The specifics had only changed.

oooPooo

1. Writing slates, the use of the rock slate to write on with chalk, have been used since the 11th century in India. With the spread of knowledge in the East during that time period, Salazar and Godric traveling down in the general area, and the fact that there's at least one slate query in Wales, I figured writing slates were added to Hogwarts eventually during the founder's lives, though probably not while Salazar was alive. Blackboards are just very large writing slates, at least originally.

2. As far as I have been able to determine Nicolaus Copernicus really was the first to theorize the correct motions of the planets around the sun in 1553. There is so much ancient knowledge about astronomy that might change. Astronomy and mathematics are two subjects that seem to travel between the West and East, and East to West in a way that causes random people being given credit for discoveries they likely were just trying to pass along...so to the best of my knowledge this is fact.

Headmaster Amrose Swott discovered the influence the elliptic motion of our planet has on its own magical nucleus is just a random world building by me, though that Headmaster is a cannon character who has some astronomy skills.

3. ġeolurēad is old English for yellow-red in reference to saffron but is believed to be used for orange.