(no subject)
Title: Between Here and Now and Forever, Chapter 10
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: The Founders, various OCs
Rating: PG
Summary: New students arrive, Godric despairs, and Salazar makes plans.
Chapter 1
Master Founders post
Chapter 9
Devlin was just getting to his feet after having the wind knocked out of him by the Transport Key when someone behind him called his name and made him stumble again.
He got up and dusted himself off, then turned, already knowing who it was. "Julian, you prat. What's going on?" he asked. He was so glad to be back at the castle for his second year. Summer had been awful.
"I had the worst time back home," said Julian, rolling his eyes. "We went to see Cassius where he's being fostered and he kept giving me this look. Wish I'd done better in Transfiguration, then I might have turned him into a slug."
"Ooh, I know what you mean," said Devlin, grimacing. "Nobody back home would talk to me, 'cept my little brothers and Gwen and Alice."
"You almost have to pity them," said Julian. "Poor ignorant Muggles."
Devlin wrinkled his nose. "No, you don't. Well, maybe you might. I certainly don't. I have to live with them."
"Perhaps," he said. "Oh no, there's Helena." Julian grimaced. "Watch your valuables," he said.
But Helena had merely wandered over quietly, looking downcast. "Hullo," she said.
Julian and Devlin exchanged a Look. She's going to pull a snake out from behind her back, thought Devlin. Or make something explode behind us. Or something. "Er. Hallo," he said, smiling widely.
She glared. "Don't mock me. I'm not stupid."
They exchanged another look. "We never said you were," said Julian.
"I -- I don't want you to hate me," Helena said haltingly.
"We don't hate you," Julian said quickly.
"We just don't like you," Devlin added truthfully. He watched her expression go from grave to shocked to angry.
"Devlin, you idiot! Run!" shouted Julian, grabbing his arm.
As he generally knew good advice when he heard it, Devlin ran.
* * *
Helga watched as a shrieking Helena chased the two boys around the front of the castle. "Ah, students," she said. "I wonder what the new batch will be like."
"From what I understand," said Basil, "this year's group is a lot bigger than last year's. I think Lord Slytherin managed to persuade some more of the magical nobles to send their children. Even the Nigellus heir is attending, from what I've heard," he added.
"Is that a good thing?" asked Helga.
"Well, we won't know until we see them in class," Basil shrugged. "Do you think he's planning on holding them hostage until they make him Chief?"
"Who, Slytherin?" Helga asked. "Don't be ridiculous; he'll just play on parental concern. If you trust someone with your children, it means you're not fooling around. At least, I would think so. It's probably a good foot in the door."
"Well, that's reassuring," said Basil. He yawned; he was still feeling a bit woozy from the full moon three days ago.
"Are you all right?" Helga asked, worry in her eyes.
He laughed. "Yes, you'd better call the Healers -- I'm yawning."
"Well, you know what I mean," she said. "I can't help worrying. Anyway, we'd better go and let them know we're here, otherwise Helena's likely to kill those two, and then Godric would never forgive me."
"Why not?" Basil asked.
She shrugged. "Apparently Devlin's got some talent with Transfiguration. Now, if only I could get someone who was that good with Herbology," she sighed. "Then I'd be happy."
Basil nodded. "I know the feeling," he said.
* * *
But Devlin and Julian had already headed into the castle, entertaining hopes of dodging the now-shrieking Helena by ducking into a room. Running full-speed down the halls, neither of them saw the figure in front of them until it was too late.
With an "Oof!" Julian fell to the ground. He looked up, and saw a boy who appeared to be several years older than himself. He also looked angry. "I'm sorry, I wasn't --"
He was cut off when the boy grabbed him by the front of his robes, picked him up, and pushed him against the wall with his left hand whilst brandishing his wand with his right. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"I'm Julian de Malfoie," Julian said. He wasn't the most important student, certainly -- that was Filch -- but everyone knew who he was.
The other boy snorted. "You probably made up your surname on the way here. Why did you run into me?"
"Er. It was sort of an accident," managed Julian.
"Don't be smart with me!"
"It's hard not to be. Let him go!" he heard Devlin say from somewhere behind the older boy. Two hands grabbed at the boy's neck and pulled frantically at it. Taking the opportunity, Julian managed to struggle free, but now the boy had a hold of Devlin.
"I know you," Helena said suddenly, looking them up and down.
"Of course you know me," Julian said.
"No, not you," she said, rolling her eyes. "Him. He's a Nigellus. Alioth Nigellus."
The boy -- Alioth, Julian supposed, and if he'd been made fun of for Julian, 'Alioth' was even worse -- released Devlin and turned toward Helena. "That's right," he said, a small and discomforting smile playing across his features. "Alioth Nigellus. Are you the Aeaeae girl?"
Helena regarded him seriously. "My surname is Ravenclaw," she said stiffly.
"So it is, but Aeaeae's a better name. Are you really descended from Circe of Aeaeae?"
"I wouldn't know," she said, shrugging. "I wasn't there. What does it matter?"
"She was a great historical figure!"
"I hate history," Helena said. "Besides," she added, "she had that weird... pig thing going on, and she's dead, so why should I care about her? Also, I think someone forgot to tell you that people are supposed to bathe once a year. I know they say it's bad for you, but --"
Alioth's face turned purple, and he sent a hex at her, but she ducked out of the way just in time.
Julian rushed forward. "You can't hit a girl!" he shouted, jumping in between them.
Devlin grabbed his arm. "Yes, he can," he said, pulling him out of the way. "And we can leave."
"No, he can't!" Julian protested.
"Yes, he can," Devlin said firmly.
"No, he can't!"
"Yes, he --"
"Yes, he can!" Helena insisted, sending a few blue sparks out of her wand. "It means I can hit him back!"
"She's right, you know," Devlin hissed.
Julian frowned at Helena, who was now charging at Alioth Nigellus, wand raised. "Yes, he can. Though he shouldn't. And we won't. But I'm out of breath. And they're distracted. So we should rest." He sank to the floor, leaning against the wall.
"Right. Good idea," said Devlin, joining him.
"Expelliarmus!" shouted Alioth, sending a jet of light at Helena, who ducked.
"We never learned that one," said Devlin, frowning. "I wonder what it does."
"It's a disarm-y something," Julian said, remembering bits and pieces of Latin. "I tried it once on a suit of armor, but it only works on people. Expelliarmus!" he said, waving his wand at Alioth, and concentrating on trying to disarm him.
The curse caught Alioth by surprise: it hit him in the side, and his wand flew out of his grasp and into Julian's hand.
"All right, that's something we ought to be learning," said Devlin, who looked thoroughly impressed. "Maybe if we whine at Professor Hufflepuff enough then he'll teach it to us."
"Maybe," started Julian, but Helena interrupted him.
"What did you do that for?" she demanded.
He blinked. "I wanted to see how the spell worked."
"Now it's not even a fair duel!" she complained.
"Well, no," he admitted. "But he's irritating."
"Watch it, you little --" started Alioth.
Helena jabbed him in the ribs with her wand. "We're armed, and you're not. I'd shut up if I were you."
"This school is run by savages," complained Alioth.
"Very savage ones, you'll find. If you're lucky, we won't start wondering whether your bone marrow tastes good," said Devlin with a malicious grin. "What should we do with him?" he asked, looking at Julian.
"We could escort him to his first class," said Helena, butting in again. She poked him in the ribs again. "What's your first class?"
He looked around at them, suspiciously. "Transfiguration. Why? ...look, just give me back my wand and I won't wipe the floor with you little snots."
The other three ignored his insults, instead exchanging a gleeful look. "Transfiguration, hmm?" Devlin asked. "Has anyone told you about the demon professor?"
"No," said Alioth, frowning. "I don't believe you. You're just trying to frighten me." Though from the way he looked, it was working.
"Oh no," Julian said, shaking his head earnestly. "He's not lying at all. Fearsome, the demon professor is. He ate two of the students last year."
"Three," said Helena. "You forgot Winifred."
"Ah, yes," Julian nodded, solemnly. "Poor Winifred. May her soul rest in peace."
"You're not... serious," Alioth said. "Right?"
Devlin smiled nastily. "Only one way to find out. Transfiguration's this way."
* * *
As he rushed down the stairs, Godric hoped that this wasn't going to become a habit. Why, of all days, did he have to be late to his class on the first day of school? He'd always had generally rotten luck, but he wished the universe had thought to give him some explanation for its unusual cruelty. Perhaps, he thought, turning and rushing down the corridor, he was some sort of repository for all of the world's unused bad luck. It was almost too bad he couldn't collect it and sell it; people could slip it into their enemies' dinner and watch as they got food all down their fronts. It would be entertainment and revenge all in one neat little package.
Unfortunately, this didn't change the fact that he was late. He came to a halt as he saw four small figures up ahead. "Aren't you supposed to be in class?" he asked of them. He'd known Devlin immediately because of his red hair, but it was only now that he saw Helena and Julian were with him -- though he'd guessed the blond boy had been Julian simply because the two boys were near-inseparable.
But that didn't explain the obviously terrified older boy they were holding at wandpoint.
"Oh, hullo, Professor," said Devlin, waving cheerfully. "This is Alioth Nigellus," he said, pointing at the frightened boy.
Alioth Nigellus opened his mouth to say something, choked, and backed into Julian, who elbowed him. "Watch where you're going!" snapped Julian.
Godric narrowed his eyes. "Exactly what have you been telling him?"
The three exchanged a dark look. "Nothing," said Helena promptly. "Right?"
Devlin and Julian nodded in tandem.
"Alioth?" Godric asked lightly.
The boy stared. "I thought you were lying," he whispered -- presumably to the others. "I hoped you were. But you aren't. ...give me back my wand! I know a spell that --"
Godric raised an eyebrow, as if daring him to finish his sentence. The boy gulped. Then Godric turned to Devlin, Julian, and Helena. "This is that demon professor nonsense again, isn't it?" he asked. "It's bad enough when nobody knows better, but you three certainly do. And you've taken this poor boy's wand, too. I will not tolerate bullying in this school, is that clear? And I'm very disappointed in the three of you," he snapped. Did I just say that? he wondered. I'm turning into Helga's mum or something. How terrifying. And I shouldn't be saying it anyway, what with what I did to poor Master Fudge. Even if he deserved it.
"But he --" began Devlin.
"I don't care what he said or did," snapped Godric. "You're not going to do it again, and if I find out you told anybody else that lie, you're going to get worse punishments than you are already. All right? Good," he said, giving them no time to protest. "Devlin, give him back his wand."
Shivering, Devlin held out the wand to Alioth, who snatched it back, then glared at them. "Ha! I always knew you were lying," he said shakily. "I was just playing along."
Devlin looked as though he wanted to say something rude, but knew better than to do it while his Transfiguration professor was standing there.
"Now get to Herbology, all of you," Godric ordered. The three all but turned and ran, although he heard Helena ask, "But don't we have Charms first this year?" Shaking his head and cursing his terrible memory, Godric turned to look at Alioth Nigellus. "What's your first class?"
Alioth looked up at him again; he was probably fighting the urge to stare, Godric thought. "Er. Transfiguration. I don't know where that is, but I'm probably late and they were saying the professor who taught it was horrible -- though he couldn't have been as horrible as they --"
"Don't worry," said Godric. "I can assure you that the professor who teaches it is not only incredibly late, but will not be angry at you. Although I suppose he might be horrible. I wouldn't know. I rather hope not, however, if only for my own sake. Come with me; I'll show you to the Transfiguration classroom. I happen to be on my way there myself."
* * *
Basil watched his second and last class of the day leave. Some were promising, he admitted: Lord Slytherin's prize, the Nigellus heir, was surprisingly good with his curses, though his defense seemed to be based mainly on the hope that no one would dare attack him.
Basil grinned lopsidedly at this. Back before he'd been bitten, he'd been a duelist and a hunter of Dark creatures. It was this second that gave him both his quick reflexes and his current affliction, but he'd also put his skills to use in the dueling ring, and had been quite good -- though, of course, he had to stop afterwards: because they were so difficult to kill, people seemed to think that werewolves had an unfair advantage in the dueling ring.
At any rate, as a duelist, a good half of his opponents had been bored, rich, and good at everything but real strategy. This, to Basil, was being ready for anything, while having a good idea of what the other fellow was going to try and do to you. Alas, none of that lot had had much else on their minds except for beating him and then bragging about it later.
All of which it was now his job to prevent. It would be difficult with the Nigellus boy, who seemed earnest but lazy. Basil thought he could do it, though, perhaps through moderate humiliation and hard work. What it really depended on, of course, was the boy's willingness to learn, something that he couldn't judge in a single class.
Imagining his vicarious return to the dueling ring, he yawned and stood. He thought he'd better go and talk to Helga: she'd still been worried about him, and it wouldn't do to have her thinking that he'd fallen asleep in his classroom, and might, horror of horrors, miss lunch. He shook his head.
Basil walked through the hallways lazily, humming to himself. He frowned, however, when he heard a crashing noise from up ahead, and quickened his pace somewhat. When he got to the source of the noise, however, he knew that he needn't have worried.
Godric stood glaring at a classroom doorway, rattling the doorknob. As Basil watched, he pulled out his wand and shot what seemed to be a generic Unlocking Charm at it.
Basil cleared his throat, and stepped forward. "Isn't that the Charms classroom?" he asked curiously.
Godric looked at him. "What? Oh, that? Er... well... actually, yes, it is. It won't let me in," he added, though Basil thought this was rather obvious. He studied the door, and the magic on it. He had to admit to himself that as much as he hated being a werewolf, the curse had its occasional benefits. Before, when he'd blindly put wards around things, he'd never been able to tell whether they had leaks or not, but now he could find the weaknesses in every ward and spell.
Even had the wards on the classroom not been blue-green, it was obvious that they'd been put up by the Arithmancer. His wards were like giant nets: methodical, even, and fairly sturdy to the common, blind wardbreaker. Neatly knotted into the middle of the net of magic protecting the doorway was a scrap of weak red magic. The shade almost matched Godric's aura, but not quite. Just behind this net was a large bar about ten feet off the ground. If Godric had ducked, he might've been able to get past it, but then the net would have stopped him anyway.
"Hmm," said Basil, frowning. "Your best bet would be to blast through the wall to the side," he said. "You'd never make it through those wards. They're specific to you."
Godric looked worried. "But isn't that dangerous?"
"Probably, yes," Basil agreed. "But you're trying to break into Her Highness' classroom."
At this, Godric half-grinned. "Yes, well, I'd hoped I wouldn't have to be too literal. Besides, if I took out one of her walls, she'd almost certainly kill me. And I don't know any spells that would work."
"I could take down the wall," offered Basil. "Then she'd go after me."
"No," said Godric. "She'd assume it was me anyway."
"I thought she prided herself on her logic?"
"Yes, well, she also prides herself on her flying fireballs," Godric pointed out. "I think she prides herself on those more than she does on the logic."
"Oh, don't worry about those," said Basil. "They're not real."
Godric blinked. "Really? They're not real? They look really real to me. They feel real, too, but I have good reflexes, so I've always been able to duck."
"They're just illusions," said Basil, shaking his head. "Well, mostly. I think about every tenth one is real. It takes a lot out of you, throwing real fireballs around at people who you don't want dead."
"That's not very reassuring," said Godric. "Anyway, it would really help more if you could take the wards down. Can you do that?"
Basil considered the problem for a moment. "Well..." he started, "Helga will probably kill me but... all right," he said, shrugging. "Our dear and beloved Lady Ravenclaw is getting on my nerves almost as much as she's getting on yours. She acts like she's better with spells than anyone, but I'd like to see her duel. I mean, I could beat her easily. Of course, Helga would kill me worse then," he admitted, "and it wouldn't really be worth it, so I don't think I'll bother. Why do people put up with her, anyway?" he asked.
It was a few moments before Godric answered. "...you know, I'm not entirely certain myself. But I think she's been through a lot."
"That's what Helga says," said Basil, rolling his eyes. "You people are all mad. But if you want the wards down..." He sighed and began to work on taking the Arithmancer's wards down.
* * *
"Father!"
Lord Salazar turned to see his apparently overwrought son enter the room. Occasionally, he wished that Jasper would simply settle down and become ...wrought. Or whatever was a bit less than overwrought and not yet underwrought. It didn't matter much that it wasn't a real word: if he could convince himself that it ought to be, he'd done his job. "Yes?" he asked patiently, sweeping a couple of bat spleens into a jar.
"That lunatic has taken down my wards!" said Jasper.
"Jasper," sighed Salazar, "there are an inordinate number of lunatics living in this castle. Which one are you talking about this time?"
"You know. The lycanthrope," Jasper said. "The literal lunatic. He's taken down my wards!"
Salazar frowned. He didn't think Hufflepuff would do such a thing, but if he had then actions would need to be taken. Preferably by Salazar himself. "The ones around the castle?" he asked.
"No, of course not," snapped Jasper. "Even he's not that mad. The ones on the Charms classroom."
"To keep the Transfigurator out?" Salazar asked; he'd worried when he saw how Ophelia Aeaeae's daughter and the Transfigurator had argued, and about his son's spats with Hufflepuff, but in the end all these things had their uses. Although silently he wondered at Jasper's interest in the Aeaeae girl. Salazar had once been engaged to Ophelia Aeaeae, and he considered himself very lucky to have come to his senses and eloped with Ceridwen before the marriage could take place.
"Yes, those wards," said Jasper, who seemed determined to take this as a personal affront. "Obviously they were put there for a reason, but of course he takes them down; I expect it's only out of spite --"
"Jasper," said Salazar, "will you please calm down?"
"But they --"
"What would you like me to do about it? Have him executed? Poison him? Send him a stern reprimand? What?"
He'd begun to regret having coddled the boy so much, but considering what had happened to Ceridwen, Salazar felt it was owed. At any rate, Jasper seemed much happier now.
Jasper grimaced. "No, I suppose not. I'll go and repair them myself. And this time I suppose I'll have to make them stronger."
"That would be a good idea," said Salazar. "Why don't you go and do so? I have a class to prepare for."
Jasper rolled his eyes. "Yes, Father." He left.
It was only then that Salazar allowed himself a small smile. Such a large concentration of both talent and rivalry inevitably led up to something happening. All it had required was a bit of nudging the Hufflepuffs away from the Aeaeae girl, and a generally healthy practice of seeming to Look The Other Way while really keeping a close eye on things. It was very amusing -- not to mention useful -- the way these half-children thought they could keep secrets. And now the arms race had begun.
If it didn't destroy the castle, Salazar reflected, it would almost surely make the school -- and therefore Salazar -- a force to be reckoned with. Now all he had to do was provoke Ophelia into showing her madness to the Council. Which shouldn't be too difficult at all, considering how close it was to the surface.
Chapter 11
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: The Founders, various OCs
Rating: PG
Summary: New students arrive, Godric despairs, and Salazar makes plans.
Chapter 1
Master Founders post
Chapter 9
Devlin was just getting to his feet after having the wind knocked out of him by the Transport Key when someone behind him called his name and made him stumble again.
He got up and dusted himself off, then turned, already knowing who it was. "Julian, you prat. What's going on?" he asked. He was so glad to be back at the castle for his second year. Summer had been awful.
"I had the worst time back home," said Julian, rolling his eyes. "We went to see Cassius where he's being fostered and he kept giving me this look. Wish I'd done better in Transfiguration, then I might have turned him into a slug."
"Ooh, I know what you mean," said Devlin, grimacing. "Nobody back home would talk to me, 'cept my little brothers and Gwen and Alice."
"You almost have to pity them," said Julian. "Poor ignorant Muggles."
Devlin wrinkled his nose. "No, you don't. Well, maybe you might. I certainly don't. I have to live with them."
"Perhaps," he said. "Oh no, there's Helena." Julian grimaced. "Watch your valuables," he said.
But Helena had merely wandered over quietly, looking downcast. "Hullo," she said.
Julian and Devlin exchanged a Look. She's going to pull a snake out from behind her back, thought Devlin. Or make something explode behind us. Or something. "Er. Hallo," he said, smiling widely.
She glared. "Don't mock me. I'm not stupid."
They exchanged another look. "We never said you were," said Julian.
"I -- I don't want you to hate me," Helena said haltingly.
"We don't hate you," Julian said quickly.
"We just don't like you," Devlin added truthfully. He watched her expression go from grave to shocked to angry.
"Devlin, you idiot! Run!" shouted Julian, grabbing his arm.
As he generally knew good advice when he heard it, Devlin ran.
* * *
Helga watched as a shrieking Helena chased the two boys around the front of the castle. "Ah, students," she said. "I wonder what the new batch will be like."
"From what I understand," said Basil, "this year's group is a lot bigger than last year's. I think Lord Slytherin managed to persuade some more of the magical nobles to send their children. Even the Nigellus heir is attending, from what I've heard," he added.
"Is that a good thing?" asked Helga.
"Well, we won't know until we see them in class," Basil shrugged. "Do you think he's planning on holding them hostage until they make him Chief?"
"Who, Slytherin?" Helga asked. "Don't be ridiculous; he'll just play on parental concern. If you trust someone with your children, it means you're not fooling around. At least, I would think so. It's probably a good foot in the door."
"Well, that's reassuring," said Basil. He yawned; he was still feeling a bit woozy from the full moon three days ago.
"Are you all right?" Helga asked, worry in her eyes.
He laughed. "Yes, you'd better call the Healers -- I'm yawning."
"Well, you know what I mean," she said. "I can't help worrying. Anyway, we'd better go and let them know we're here, otherwise Helena's likely to kill those two, and then Godric would never forgive me."
"Why not?" Basil asked.
She shrugged. "Apparently Devlin's got some talent with Transfiguration. Now, if only I could get someone who was that good with Herbology," she sighed. "Then I'd be happy."
Basil nodded. "I know the feeling," he said.
* * *
But Devlin and Julian had already headed into the castle, entertaining hopes of dodging the now-shrieking Helena by ducking into a room. Running full-speed down the halls, neither of them saw the figure in front of them until it was too late.
With an "Oof!" Julian fell to the ground. He looked up, and saw a boy who appeared to be several years older than himself. He also looked angry. "I'm sorry, I wasn't --"
He was cut off when the boy grabbed him by the front of his robes, picked him up, and pushed him against the wall with his left hand whilst brandishing his wand with his right. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"I'm Julian de Malfoie," Julian said. He wasn't the most important student, certainly -- that was Filch -- but everyone knew who he was.
The other boy snorted. "You probably made up your surname on the way here. Why did you run into me?"
"Er. It was sort of an accident," managed Julian.
"Don't be smart with me!"
"It's hard not to be. Let him go!" he heard Devlin say from somewhere behind the older boy. Two hands grabbed at the boy's neck and pulled frantically at it. Taking the opportunity, Julian managed to struggle free, but now the boy had a hold of Devlin.
"I know you," Helena said suddenly, looking them up and down.
"Of course you know me," Julian said.
"No, not you," she said, rolling her eyes. "Him. He's a Nigellus. Alioth Nigellus."
The boy -- Alioth, Julian supposed, and if he'd been made fun of for Julian, 'Alioth' was even worse -- released Devlin and turned toward Helena. "That's right," he said, a small and discomforting smile playing across his features. "Alioth Nigellus. Are you the Aeaeae girl?"
Helena regarded him seriously. "My surname is Ravenclaw," she said stiffly.
"So it is, but Aeaeae's a better name. Are you really descended from Circe of Aeaeae?"
"I wouldn't know," she said, shrugging. "I wasn't there. What does it matter?"
"She was a great historical figure!"
"I hate history," Helena said. "Besides," she added, "she had that weird... pig thing going on, and she's dead, so why should I care about her? Also, I think someone forgot to tell you that people are supposed to bathe once a year. I know they say it's bad for you, but --"
Alioth's face turned purple, and he sent a hex at her, but she ducked out of the way just in time.
Julian rushed forward. "You can't hit a girl!" he shouted, jumping in between them.
Devlin grabbed his arm. "Yes, he can," he said, pulling him out of the way. "And we can leave."
"No, he can't!" Julian protested.
"Yes, he can," Devlin said firmly.
"No, he can't!"
"Yes, he --"
"Yes, he can!" Helena insisted, sending a few blue sparks out of her wand. "It means I can hit him back!"
"She's right, you know," Devlin hissed.
Julian frowned at Helena, who was now charging at Alioth Nigellus, wand raised. "Yes, he can. Though he shouldn't. And we won't. But I'm out of breath. And they're distracted. So we should rest." He sank to the floor, leaning against the wall.
"Right. Good idea," said Devlin, joining him.
"Expelliarmus!" shouted Alioth, sending a jet of light at Helena, who ducked.
"We never learned that one," said Devlin, frowning. "I wonder what it does."
"It's a disarm-y something," Julian said, remembering bits and pieces of Latin. "I tried it once on a suit of armor, but it only works on people. Expelliarmus!" he said, waving his wand at Alioth, and concentrating on trying to disarm him.
The curse caught Alioth by surprise: it hit him in the side, and his wand flew out of his grasp and into Julian's hand.
"All right, that's something we ought to be learning," said Devlin, who looked thoroughly impressed. "Maybe if we whine at Professor Hufflepuff enough then he'll teach it to us."
"Maybe," started Julian, but Helena interrupted him.
"What did you do that for?" she demanded.
He blinked. "I wanted to see how the spell worked."
"Now it's not even a fair duel!" she complained.
"Well, no," he admitted. "But he's irritating."
"Watch it, you little --" started Alioth.
Helena jabbed him in the ribs with her wand. "We're armed, and you're not. I'd shut up if I were you."
"This school is run by savages," complained Alioth.
"Very savage ones, you'll find. If you're lucky, we won't start wondering whether your bone marrow tastes good," said Devlin with a malicious grin. "What should we do with him?" he asked, looking at Julian.
"We could escort him to his first class," said Helena, butting in again. She poked him in the ribs again. "What's your first class?"
He looked around at them, suspiciously. "Transfiguration. Why? ...look, just give me back my wand and I won't wipe the floor with you little snots."
The other three ignored his insults, instead exchanging a gleeful look. "Transfiguration, hmm?" Devlin asked. "Has anyone told you about the demon professor?"
"No," said Alioth, frowning. "I don't believe you. You're just trying to frighten me." Though from the way he looked, it was working.
"Oh no," Julian said, shaking his head earnestly. "He's not lying at all. Fearsome, the demon professor is. He ate two of the students last year."
"Three," said Helena. "You forgot Winifred."
"Ah, yes," Julian nodded, solemnly. "Poor Winifred. May her soul rest in peace."
"You're not... serious," Alioth said. "Right?"
Devlin smiled nastily. "Only one way to find out. Transfiguration's this way."
* * *
As he rushed down the stairs, Godric hoped that this wasn't going to become a habit. Why, of all days, did he have to be late to his class on the first day of school? He'd always had generally rotten luck, but he wished the universe had thought to give him some explanation for its unusual cruelty. Perhaps, he thought, turning and rushing down the corridor, he was some sort of repository for all of the world's unused bad luck. It was almost too bad he couldn't collect it and sell it; people could slip it into their enemies' dinner and watch as they got food all down their fronts. It would be entertainment and revenge all in one neat little package.
Unfortunately, this didn't change the fact that he was late. He came to a halt as he saw four small figures up ahead. "Aren't you supposed to be in class?" he asked of them. He'd known Devlin immediately because of his red hair, but it was only now that he saw Helena and Julian were with him -- though he'd guessed the blond boy had been Julian simply because the two boys were near-inseparable.
But that didn't explain the obviously terrified older boy they were holding at wandpoint.
"Oh, hullo, Professor," said Devlin, waving cheerfully. "This is Alioth Nigellus," he said, pointing at the frightened boy.
Alioth Nigellus opened his mouth to say something, choked, and backed into Julian, who elbowed him. "Watch where you're going!" snapped Julian.
Godric narrowed his eyes. "Exactly what have you been telling him?"
The three exchanged a dark look. "Nothing," said Helena promptly. "Right?"
Devlin and Julian nodded in tandem.
"Alioth?" Godric asked lightly.
The boy stared. "I thought you were lying," he whispered -- presumably to the others. "I hoped you were. But you aren't. ...give me back my wand! I know a spell that --"
Godric raised an eyebrow, as if daring him to finish his sentence. The boy gulped. Then Godric turned to Devlin, Julian, and Helena. "This is that demon professor nonsense again, isn't it?" he asked. "It's bad enough when nobody knows better, but you three certainly do. And you've taken this poor boy's wand, too. I will not tolerate bullying in this school, is that clear? And I'm very disappointed in the three of you," he snapped. Did I just say that? he wondered. I'm turning into Helga's mum or something. How terrifying. And I shouldn't be saying it anyway, what with what I did to poor Master Fudge. Even if he deserved it.
"But he --" began Devlin.
"I don't care what he said or did," snapped Godric. "You're not going to do it again, and if I find out you told anybody else that lie, you're going to get worse punishments than you are already. All right? Good," he said, giving them no time to protest. "Devlin, give him back his wand."
Shivering, Devlin held out the wand to Alioth, who snatched it back, then glared at them. "Ha! I always knew you were lying," he said shakily. "I was just playing along."
Devlin looked as though he wanted to say something rude, but knew better than to do it while his Transfiguration professor was standing there.
"Now get to Herbology, all of you," Godric ordered. The three all but turned and ran, although he heard Helena ask, "But don't we have Charms first this year?" Shaking his head and cursing his terrible memory, Godric turned to look at Alioth Nigellus. "What's your first class?"
Alioth looked up at him again; he was probably fighting the urge to stare, Godric thought. "Er. Transfiguration. I don't know where that is, but I'm probably late and they were saying the professor who taught it was horrible -- though he couldn't have been as horrible as they --"
"Don't worry," said Godric. "I can assure you that the professor who teaches it is not only incredibly late, but will not be angry at you. Although I suppose he might be horrible. I wouldn't know. I rather hope not, however, if only for my own sake. Come with me; I'll show you to the Transfiguration classroom. I happen to be on my way there myself."
* * *
Basil watched his second and last class of the day leave. Some were promising, he admitted: Lord Slytherin's prize, the Nigellus heir, was surprisingly good with his curses, though his defense seemed to be based mainly on the hope that no one would dare attack him.
Basil grinned lopsidedly at this. Back before he'd been bitten, he'd been a duelist and a hunter of Dark creatures. It was this second that gave him both his quick reflexes and his current affliction, but he'd also put his skills to use in the dueling ring, and had been quite good -- though, of course, he had to stop afterwards: because they were so difficult to kill, people seemed to think that werewolves had an unfair advantage in the dueling ring.
At any rate, as a duelist, a good half of his opponents had been bored, rich, and good at everything but real strategy. This, to Basil, was being ready for anything, while having a good idea of what the other fellow was going to try and do to you. Alas, none of that lot had had much else on their minds except for beating him and then bragging about it later.
All of which it was now his job to prevent. It would be difficult with the Nigellus boy, who seemed earnest but lazy. Basil thought he could do it, though, perhaps through moderate humiliation and hard work. What it really depended on, of course, was the boy's willingness to learn, something that he couldn't judge in a single class.
Imagining his vicarious return to the dueling ring, he yawned and stood. He thought he'd better go and talk to Helga: she'd still been worried about him, and it wouldn't do to have her thinking that he'd fallen asleep in his classroom, and might, horror of horrors, miss lunch. He shook his head.
Basil walked through the hallways lazily, humming to himself. He frowned, however, when he heard a crashing noise from up ahead, and quickened his pace somewhat. When he got to the source of the noise, however, he knew that he needn't have worried.
Godric stood glaring at a classroom doorway, rattling the doorknob. As Basil watched, he pulled out his wand and shot what seemed to be a generic Unlocking Charm at it.
Basil cleared his throat, and stepped forward. "Isn't that the Charms classroom?" he asked curiously.
Godric looked at him. "What? Oh, that? Er... well... actually, yes, it is. It won't let me in," he added, though Basil thought this was rather obvious. He studied the door, and the magic on it. He had to admit to himself that as much as he hated being a werewolf, the curse had its occasional benefits. Before, when he'd blindly put wards around things, he'd never been able to tell whether they had leaks or not, but now he could find the weaknesses in every ward and spell.
Even had the wards on the classroom not been blue-green, it was obvious that they'd been put up by the Arithmancer. His wards were like giant nets: methodical, even, and fairly sturdy to the common, blind wardbreaker. Neatly knotted into the middle of the net of magic protecting the doorway was a scrap of weak red magic. The shade almost matched Godric's aura, but not quite. Just behind this net was a large bar about ten feet off the ground. If Godric had ducked, he might've been able to get past it, but then the net would have stopped him anyway.
"Hmm," said Basil, frowning. "Your best bet would be to blast through the wall to the side," he said. "You'd never make it through those wards. They're specific to you."
Godric looked worried. "But isn't that dangerous?"
"Probably, yes," Basil agreed. "But you're trying to break into Her Highness' classroom."
At this, Godric half-grinned. "Yes, well, I'd hoped I wouldn't have to be too literal. Besides, if I took out one of her walls, she'd almost certainly kill me. And I don't know any spells that would work."
"I could take down the wall," offered Basil. "Then she'd go after me."
"No," said Godric. "She'd assume it was me anyway."
"I thought she prided herself on her logic?"
"Yes, well, she also prides herself on her flying fireballs," Godric pointed out. "I think she prides herself on those more than she does on the logic."
"Oh, don't worry about those," said Basil. "They're not real."
Godric blinked. "Really? They're not real? They look really real to me. They feel real, too, but I have good reflexes, so I've always been able to duck."
"They're just illusions," said Basil, shaking his head. "Well, mostly. I think about every tenth one is real. It takes a lot out of you, throwing real fireballs around at people who you don't want dead."
"That's not very reassuring," said Godric. "Anyway, it would really help more if you could take the wards down. Can you do that?"
Basil considered the problem for a moment. "Well..." he started, "Helga will probably kill me but... all right," he said, shrugging. "Our dear and beloved Lady Ravenclaw is getting on my nerves almost as much as she's getting on yours. She acts like she's better with spells than anyone, but I'd like to see her duel. I mean, I could beat her easily. Of course, Helga would kill me worse then," he admitted, "and it wouldn't really be worth it, so I don't think I'll bother. Why do people put up with her, anyway?" he asked.
It was a few moments before Godric answered. "...you know, I'm not entirely certain myself. But I think she's been through a lot."
"That's what Helga says," said Basil, rolling his eyes. "You people are all mad. But if you want the wards down..." He sighed and began to work on taking the Arithmancer's wards down.
* * *
"Father!"
Lord Salazar turned to see his apparently overwrought son enter the room. Occasionally, he wished that Jasper would simply settle down and become ...wrought. Or whatever was a bit less than overwrought and not yet underwrought. It didn't matter much that it wasn't a real word: if he could convince himself that it ought to be, he'd done his job. "Yes?" he asked patiently, sweeping a couple of bat spleens into a jar.
"That lunatic has taken down my wards!" said Jasper.
"Jasper," sighed Salazar, "there are an inordinate number of lunatics living in this castle. Which one are you talking about this time?"
"You know. The lycanthrope," Jasper said. "The literal lunatic. He's taken down my wards!"
Salazar frowned. He didn't think Hufflepuff would do such a thing, but if he had then actions would need to be taken. Preferably by Salazar himself. "The ones around the castle?" he asked.
"No, of course not," snapped Jasper. "Even he's not that mad. The ones on the Charms classroom."
"To keep the Transfigurator out?" Salazar asked; he'd worried when he saw how Ophelia Aeaeae's daughter and the Transfigurator had argued, and about his son's spats with Hufflepuff, but in the end all these things had their uses. Although silently he wondered at Jasper's interest in the Aeaeae girl. Salazar had once been engaged to Ophelia Aeaeae, and he considered himself very lucky to have come to his senses and eloped with Ceridwen before the marriage could take place.
"Yes, those wards," said Jasper, who seemed determined to take this as a personal affront. "Obviously they were put there for a reason, but of course he takes them down; I expect it's only out of spite --"
"Jasper," said Salazar, "will you please calm down?"
"But they --"
"What would you like me to do about it? Have him executed? Poison him? Send him a stern reprimand? What?"
He'd begun to regret having coddled the boy so much, but considering what had happened to Ceridwen, Salazar felt it was owed. At any rate, Jasper seemed much happier now.
Jasper grimaced. "No, I suppose not. I'll go and repair them myself. And this time I suppose I'll have to make them stronger."
"That would be a good idea," said Salazar. "Why don't you go and do so? I have a class to prepare for."
Jasper rolled his eyes. "Yes, Father." He left.
It was only then that Salazar allowed himself a small smile. Such a large concentration of both talent and rivalry inevitably led up to something happening. All it had required was a bit of nudging the Hufflepuffs away from the Aeaeae girl, and a generally healthy practice of seeming to Look The Other Way while really keeping a close eye on things. It was very amusing -- not to mention useful -- the way these half-children thought they could keep secrets. And now the arms race had begun.
If it didn't destroy the castle, Salazar reflected, it would almost surely make the school -- and therefore Salazar -- a force to be reckoned with. Now all he had to do was provoke Ophelia into showing her madness to the Council. Which shouldn't be too difficult at all, considering how close it was to the surface.
Chapter 11