(no subject)
Title: Between Here and Now and Forever
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters:
Rating: PG
Summary: Godric, Rowena, and Helga prepare to visit Ari Stigandrson's family in the north.
Author's Note: After long last, chapter 18 and the new plot arc! Excuses are boring, I know, but I had some unavoidable Big Life Issues that got in the way of writing this, and also caused writer's block. The good news: I have written up to chapter 32, so you will be getting one new chapter a week from me, barring computer issues, apocalypse, etc. The bad news: my beta reader, Kitty, due to her own unavoidable Big Life Issues, is not able to beta for me right now. She did manage to beta the first part of this plot arc (including, obviously, this chapter) but if I don't find another beta before chapter 26, I will be posting sans beta. If you are interested in beta reading for me, please tell me.
(..."Beta" doesn't even look like a word anymore, does it?)
Also, I am compiling an illustrated cast list here. It is still very much a work in progress.
Chapter 1
Master Founders Post
Chapter 17
As the weather warmed and the drippy end of winter became the drizzly start of spring, the three travelers prepared for their voyage to the icy (well, icier) north. Helga took it upon herself to do most of the preparation. She liked planning, and she was the only one of the three who had actually been away from Britain before. But she'd never gone very far north; though Helga liked experimenting with exotic species from other climates, she'd always told people that most evergreen plants had the wrong personality. Besides, she had her own reasons for not wanting to go north, although she supposed they were a bit silly. She tried not to think about them too much.
In truth, the whole trip worried her a bit -- she was happy to go, but something at the back of her head kept insisting that she prepare for this as she would for a business trip. She usually planned based on what she intended to accomplish, but... on this trip, she didn't particularly mean to accomplish anything. She had never made a pilgrimage, and travel for her had never been a pleasure -- the dust of the road, the perilous sea crossing, the bags, the foolish fellow-travelers, the horrible food, the inevitable bandits whose hard skulls were likely to ruin her best shovels... In theory, travel sounded enjoyable, but it never lived up to expectations.
The fellow-travelers were being particularly foolish this time, though. Usually, except for Basil, she didn't know them until the departure day, when a group would gather at the transport key shop to be magicked part of the way together, and then usually continue on foot, making themselves into a noisy, conspicuously well-off target for bandits. This time, though, it was only her, Rowena, and Godric, so Helga couldn't help thinking they should have known better than to be idiots. Rowena insisted on bringing half the books in the library, even though they were irreplaceable and delicate, and Godric kept insisting that he didn't need half the things any sane traveler would have wanted, like extra clothing or blankets. "I can make do," he would say, which seemed to be code for "I don't have that," or "I don't want to carry that," or possibly "I forgot that I assigned all of my students three feet of parchment on something they all hate, so please, just leave me alone to mark them."
In these cases, she usually appealed to his sense of pessimism. "What if the second-worst thing that could happen does?" she asked when he was insisting that he didn't need another cloak. "We can't go by transport key the whole way, Godric. Suppose you fall into the water and you don't drown. You're going to be cold. You could freeze to death slowly once you get back onboard."
"That's impossible. I can't swim," he said pleasantly. "Really, I've got to get these done before they all go home." He gestured at the immense stack of student assignments on his desk.
"Yes, but imagining that through some miracle you did survive," said Helga, "you'd --"
"I'm convinced that God hates me, actually," said Godric. "If He didn't, this pile of work would be much smaller." He squinted at something he was marking. "And in better handwriting. And the Aurae wouldn't have broken three of my fingers for a fight I tried to stop."
She was trying not to be cross with him, but she couldn't help sighing. "That's only proof Lady Aeaeae hates you, Godric. And that you've assigned your students more than you could mark. Don't go blaming God for that. Is it that you just haven't got another cloak? Because I think something can be done about that. Like, for example, you could get another one."
"I have the old one I've had for years," said Godric. "That should be all right, shouldn't it? If you really think I need one."
Helga had seen the state of Godric's (mostly unmagical) belongings when he had come to the school, and though she had not remarked upon them like Rowena had, they were shockingly inadequate. She supposed it was because he had spent so much on food and books, which was understandable given his circumstances, but it didn't lessen her irritation. "No, Godric. I think you need another one."
"Well, I don't see why," said Godric. "It only has a few holes in it." He made a face at one of the student assignments, and scribbled a comment on it, muttering to himself about last-minute work.
"We're going north. Travelling over water. It's going to be windy," she said, wishing he would look at her when she spoke.
"It's going to be summer," Godric pointed out.
Helga sighed. "It's going to be the worst summer you ever saw. Trust me."
"How do you know? Have you been there?" said Godric, gesturing at her with an inky quill. He looked down at the new splatters of ink all over his desk. "Damn. Got to find a spell for that. ...Anyway, Rowena says --"
"Godric, I love Rowena and she's wonderful except when she's terrible, but she's got no idea what she's talking about when it comes to travel," said Helga. "At least, not as far as I know. I mean... she talks like she knows everything, she's always done that, it's just who Rowena is," she said. "But she's never even been as far as Wales."
"I've never been as far as Wales. Anyway, she's Scottish," he said, as if this excused a multitude of sins. "It was farther for her."
Helga sighed. "That's not the point, Godric --"
"Have you been to Wales?" he asked, curiously.
"Basil and I went to Cardiff once for this ridiculous job," said Helga. "Very profitable, though. It was just after we got married. We were nearly eaten by vicious crop pests, and some Muggles mistook us for part of the Tylwyth Teg." It had been sort of fun, actually; it wasn't every day you got mistaken for rebel elves by a lot of arrow-happy vigilantes. "Anyway, there's a reason I'm planning this trip, and I'm only going along to keep you two from killing each other or getting lost." She frowned. "Why are you two going, anyway?"
"Um." He looked stricken, and fumbled hurriedly around for some clean parchment, apparently trying to look as though he was taking her advice. "Right, so I'll get another cloak -- from the village, d'you think, or should I go to London? I don't like going to London, it's got too many people in it, but --"
"Edinburgh's much more convenient," she pointed out, although this ought to be obvious to him by now. He nodded, and jotted down another note. "You know," said Helga, "you're not doing a very good job of hiding it from me, whatever it is you're hiding. Neither is Rowena. I'm only concerned because when she hides things from me, it's usually because they're incredibly stupid. So what are your terrible plans?"
Hesitantly, he looked at her from behind the parchment he was examining. "Aren't you upset with her?"
She shrugged. "I feel like I've been upset with Rowena for years, and it's done me no good. I'm tired of being upset. I mean, she's still wrong and all, but she doesn't want to be. She lives in her own world sometimes, and she's not very good with reality. I am still annoyed with you about the Muggleborns," she said, "but I suppose it's our fault for sending you out against the army."
Godric sighed. "It's just that -- well, they're perfectly good students, they're fine in class. But that's the problem. It's... look, I'm Muggleborn, I know how it is. It would've been a lot easier for me if I hadn't learned magic. It was terrifying. I was taken away from my family and dumped on you lot for years, and you two bullied me the whole time."
That stung, because it was true, but it didn't really apply to their argument. "It's different now, though," she said. "Our Muggleborn students want to learn magic. And think about it, Godric -- wouldn't you have gone along with it if you'd known how well it would've turned out?"
He laughed. "What do you mean, how well it would've turned out?" he demanded. "Let's see," he said, ticking calamities off on his fingers. "Because I learnt magic, I was taken away from my family for years, then when I got back everything had changed, and then when I got this curse put on me, I was even weirder, I nearly got stoned to death, had to run away from home, and when you found me, I was working two jobs and still starving to death. Does that really sound like a happy life?"
"But you're here now," said Helga. "Aren't you happier here? You get books! I can't imagine you being happy without books."
"That was chance," said Godric. "Nothing more, really. If I'd stayed, I'd have been a bit odd, I always was, but at least I'd have been mostly like everyone else. I wouldn't have missed books, I wouldn't have cared at all. And it's not all bad," he insisted. "Witches and wizards may have it a lot better, but I gave up my family and any chance of having friends when I started learning magic, because I couldn't keep pretending there wasn't anything wrong with me."
Helga had a good deal of sympathy for outsiders, as her mother had never married, and in a lot of people's eyes that made her and Leo shameful evidence of wrongdoing rather than people with a slightly complicated family tree. But that last bit had thrown her completely. "What? Do you mean the height thing? Because --"
He snorted. "Oh, no, that came later. That's just a curse. I mean the magic thing."
Helga sighed. Maybe she ought to get Godric to come to church with her and Basil some time. He was a good person; he didn't deserve to think he was going to Hell for magic. "That isn't anything wrong with you," she said. "Is that what you meant about God hating you? Because you've got magic?"
"Well, after I had to go home, my luck went completely wrong --"
"Because of those Muggle idiots?" Helga pointed out.
He sighed. "No. Look, I don't know what it's because of. I just know that there's something wrong with me and I don't know what it is."
"Just because you have bad luck --"
"It's not that," he said. "...Look, it's too hard to explain, Helga, all right? I don't even know how to explain it to myself. You don't need to save me. It's not your job."
She tried not to bristle at his sad little smile. "I just thought I might be able to help," she said. "If it does help any, I don't think there's anything wrong with you."
He snorted. "You're not really the one who gets to decide that, are you?" he asked.
He had a point. She shrugged. "Anyway, you're not going to distract me that easily. What are you and Rowena planning?"
He rolled his eyes at this. "If Rowena hasn't told you -- well. " He considered this briefly, then continued on. "It's not that exciting. Well, not to anybody normal. You know those things that you want to look into because the magic might work or it might not, but they're sort of... they could be used wrong, maybe? And they're a little risky?"
She knew that sort of experiment well enough. "It's no fun if it's not a little risky. Anyway, in my line of work? It's not worth anything if it's not very risky."
"I see your point," he said. "But... it's something like that. We're trying to solve Lord Slytherin's problem of student assignment. I can't tell you anything else because I am forbidden, apparently. So ask Rowena if you want to know more. She thinks people would be angry and upset at a little academic experiment." With a gesture, he indicated what he obviously thought was a miniscule distance between his thumb and index finger, although Godric tended to lack perspective on such things. "But I know she knows you're trustworthy, and I don't think she thinks I am."
Helga tried not to roll her eyes. "I wish you two would quit going out of your way to --"
"Us two? It's always her!" he said.
She gave him a look of patient skepticism.
"Well." He sighed. "Mostly her. I mean. ...It is often her, you have to agree," he said, starting to sound irritated. He wrote something else on his list of necessary supplies, then abruptly put his quill down and glared at her. "Would you stop giving me that look?"
"Why?" she asked. "It makes you argue my point for me, and I don't have to say anything. Anyway, I didn't even say what you were going out of your way to do, so you must know you're guilty. Now, you're getting a cloak, and..." She looked at her own list, contemplating what else she could talk him into today. "New shoes, and --"
"What's wrong the ones I have now?" he asked.
"They're worn. You don't want holes in your shoes when you're travelling. Anyway, if they look that bad you need new ones anyway."
"They are worn," he said. "But not that worn."
It was like pulling teeth sometimes. She rubbed her eyes. "Look, Godric, you want to make a good impression on your hosts. You do want something out of them, even if it's just that they continue to be good hosts. You've got to keep a respectful distance from nobility when you're dealing with them, but you don't want to give the impression that you're too far below them, otherwise they treat you like the help."
He seemed taken aback. "Er. But I am --"
"No," she said, "listen to me. I know what I'm talking about when it comes to depicting myself to others. We're going for 'independent contractor' here, emphasis on independent. You have to be able to leave whenever you like or, if you impress them, they'll try to keep you."
Godric sighed, apparently resigned to his terrible fate. "I hate buying shoes."
"You don't need to make a big production about it, just get it done," she said. "And remember not to get the pointy ones, they're illegal for commoners unless you're on the Council," she warned him. "At least on most of the Continent that I've been to."
"Why would I want the pointy ones?" he asked, grimacing. "They look silly."
She shrugged. "I don't know. Apparently they're coming into fashion. And I'll buy the extra blankets, since I know you'll forget."
"Are you done adding things to my shopping list?" he asked. "Because I really have to get back to these horrible assignments."
"For now," she said. "But now I have to go talk Rowena down from bringing three shelves of books."
"Ooh, which ones?" he asked, brightening. "I'll carry them!"
"Yeah, I'll be certain to pass that on," she said, backing out of the room. "Good luck with that pile of work you made for yourself. The injustice of it is staggering. You have my sympathies."
"Thanks," he said, looking glumly at his desk. "I'll remember that three years from now when I manage to get through it all."
"Any time!" she said brightly. Then she turned and left, hoping Rowena's Charms class would be over by now.
It wasn't, so Helga waited for a few minutes while she went over preparations in her head. She knew she didn't have long to wait, because she could hear the telltale shuffling and rustling that meant the students were packing up their parchment and ink in anticipation of being dismissed.
After Rowena's lecture had finished, there was a brief torrent of students. Helga nearly fought her way upstream and went in, but she heard Rowena lecturing a student, and stopped. Rowena sounded rather irritated.
Helga listened to the conversation with the student as best she could without provoking feelings of guilt. Her conscience required that she be able to pretend not to be listening if anyone saw her, so she didn't press her ear against the crack of the door, even though she wanted to. She thought the unlucky student was the Nigellus boy, who was older than most of the students and all the more conspicuous for it.
Helga privately wondered whether there was something awful going on in the Nigellus household to make the boy so skittish and sullen, but she supposed if anyone would know, it would be Rowena, and after all, wasn't there always something awful going on with nobles? This last thought Helga knew was uncharitable, but it was also true. Anyway, he was sort of That Age, wasn't he, when they got all gloomy? Helga had been That Age once. She had started her herbological creativity at That Age. It was not a good age for kindness or generosity.
The argument ended -- Rowena had the last word, and the boy skulked out of the classroom. She smiled and said "Afternoon!" brightly -- perhaps too brightly -- but he avoided her eye and walked away quickly.
He was definitely That Age.
She knocked on Rowena's door. "What is it now?" Rowena snapped.
"It's only me," said Helga, walking in and putting her roll of parchment down on the desk between them. "Who were you expecting?"
Rowena looked sheepish. "I'm sorry, it's been a long day. Alioth's whinging about the assigned work. Which they all do, of course, though usually not to my face. Apparently the esteemed Nigellus family has some dreary system of magical correspondences -- you know, those dull lists that tell you yellow represents air and Libra, and is good for, I don't know, spells involving hawks, arrows, and kidneys."
"Kidneys?" Helga asked, frowning.
"I can't make this nonsense up!" Rowena insisted, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Next time you make steak and kidney pie, remember -- wear yellow." She rolled her eyes. "At any rate, the poor boy assures me it works ten times better than all the others that every crackpot in the world has dreamt up. None of them work at all, incidentally, and ten times nothing is still nothing, but he insists, and he won't redo his work so I'm going to have to give him low marks." She sighed. "At least he's not actually cheating."
"He wouldn't!" said Helga. "He seems very honorable, if misguided. I think he's just That Age."
"What age?" Rowena.
"You know, when you start writing bad poems and hanging around with especially lewd minstrels and complaining that your parents don't understand you --"
"My parents don't understand me," Rowena pointed out. "I don't understand them either. I don't really see the problem."
"Well, and --"
"But my poetry is moderately improved," Rowena added, "so I must have passed out of the dangerous years. Of course, I'm older than you -- tell me, Helga, how is your poetry?"
"I never touch the stuff," said Helga.
Rowena boggled at her. "What, really? Never?"
"Parchment's too expensive to waste on doggerel, and I've no head for rhyme schemes," said Helga. "Anyway, I've come about the supplies for the trip," she said.
"Oh, gods, the books," said Rowena. "I'm sorry, I've narrowed it down to only half what I started with but I know you wanted a lot less --"
"Oh, no, don't worry about that," said Helga, "I've got good news! Godric's agreed to carry the books."
Rowena went pale. "Oh. Oh. That's..."
"So you can take whatever you like!" she said helpfully. "I'm certain he'll take good care of them aboard ship. You know, he's very enthusiastic about this whole travel thing, and I must say, I had rather underestimated him."
"I'll have to take only books I don't mind losing, I suppose," said Rowena. "Do you think he gets seasick?"
"He says he's never been seasick," said Helga, smiling broadly.
"Oh, good," Rowena said.
"Of course," Helga added, "he's never been to sea..."
Rowena winced. "Is there any way I can just ask him not to touch my books?"
"I suppose if you want to hurt his feelings," said Helga. She loved it when plans came together like this. She would have to thank Godric later.
"I don't care about his feelings, I care about my books," Rowena pointed out.
"Well, I suppose you could cut down on the books you're taking," said Helga. "Lessen the risk. I don't think you ought to bring books at all, frankly, they're much too heavy. Oh, don't worry, you won't be completely bored," said Helga, at Rowena's doubtful expression. "We can tell stories! Godric hasn't heard half of ours, and I bet we haven't heard most of his, and you always have those violent pagan ones. Those are fun!"
"It might not be a great idea to tell stories about Odysseus aboard ship," said Rowena.
"Why not?"
"They don't exactly paint the god of the sea in the most favorable light," said Rowena. "And even if they don't believe in my gods, I've heard about how superstitious sailors are."
"Good point," said Helga. "Maybe you can transpose the story to a desert! He could be like Moses!"
"...you know, I don't think that would work at all," said Rowena. "Since it's half about shipwrecks and whirlpools."
"Dust storms and quicksand!" said Helga. She didn't think you got quicksand in deserts, actually, but it wasn't as though either the sailors or Rowena knew that.
"Maybe," said Rowena skeptically. "We'll see. Hm." She paused, absently holding the soft end of her quill to her face. "Do you have that list of books I was going to take, or did I keep that?"
"You made two copies, but if you've lost it already, I've got the one you gave me," said Helga helpfully.
"I think I've lost it already," said Rowena. "Probably used it to work out some figures." She took the copy Helga gave her, and after a little pondering, circled four books. "I don't like these much, and they were cheap. Godric can have them if he likes. You can even tell him I said that."
"Tell him yourself," said Helga, who had no interest in becoming a messenger.
"No, then he'd get the idea I was giving him a present," said Rowena. "I spend too much time with Godric, you know. I'm getting very sick of him."
"You are?" she asked, surprised. "I thought you had actually been getting on for once."
Rowena looked extremely dismayed at this observation. "We have," she said. "It's awful. He got clever. When did he get clever?"
Helga laughed. "Probably around when he stopped being eleven and started being himself."
"Well, it's disconcerting. I almost wish he would stop, only I like him better like this," said Rowena, morosely. "It doesn't mean I have to be nice to him, though, right? That's your job."
Helga raised an eyebrow. "You know, Rowena, it's not actually my job to be nice to anybody. It's just that I have to work with people, and it's easier if --"
"All right, fine," sighed Rowena. "I'll try to be nice to Godric as long as I can keep my books safe from him. But if he insists on endangering anything I might want to reread, I'm going to be a bitch about it."
"Good luck with that," said Helga, who didn't see this going very well. "I have a glorious afternoon of weeding ahead of me."
* * *
Summer came too quickly for Godric. He was looking forward to the trip, but summer was not his favorite time of year. Generally, he preferred the castle to be full of students, as un-social as he was, because that meant he could maintain the illusion of having lots of human interaction and being very busy.
Besides, without student work to mark, he didn't know how he could keep making excuses to avoid Friday pub nights with Helga and Rowena. It was nice that they were on good terms again, but why they should want him around in public he didn't know. Besides, Rowena was a bad singer even when she was sober. He couldn't imagine listening to her drunk.
That was the problem that faced him now -- not the singing, but the pub night as a whole. "Oh come on, Godric, you can't say you've got things to mark, there's no students left," said Helga.
"There are Helena and Julian and Devlin," said Rowena, "but I'm bringing them to the de Malfoies' on Monday."
"Can't you take them tomorrow?" Helga asked.
"Urgh. I don't really think I should be dealing with a Transport Key tomorrow morning," Rowena pointed out. "And a witch arriving by broom on Sunday is probably bad luck among Muggles."
"Speak for yourself," said Helga. "I'm excellent luck."
"You don't fly," said Rowena.
Helga ignored this. "So are you coming, Runty?"
Godric sighed heavily. "Why do you still call me that?" he asked.
"What do you mean, why?" Helga asked. "It's your name, isn't it?"
"Only because you gave it to me," he pointed out.
"Oh that's right, I did," she said, looking as though she'd just remembered. "I forgot, I thought it was Rowena."
"No, it was definitely you," said Godric. Everything they had ever done to him was always Helga's idea.
"It was," said Rowena. "Mind, it fit." She looked up at Godric skeptically, and he hunched over his desk, avoiding her eye. "Still does, in an odd sort of way," she said.
He could feel his face growing red. "Leave me alone," he snapped. "I get plenty of staring without you, why do you think I'd rather not go?"
Rowena recoiled visibly. "You're -- I didn't mean -- that wasn't --" An irritable look settled on her face, and she regained her composure quickly. "If you're going to be so sensitive about --"
Helga grimaced. "I'm sorry, Godric, I won't do it again," she said over Rowena's continued protests. "And Rowena?"
"-- can't even make a little in-joke --"
"Rowena!" Helga said again.
"-- like you need to be miserable all the time. What?" Rowena demanded.
Helga sighed. "Rowena, stop digging."
"It's the way he carries himself, it's not my fault he thinks he can hide from everything," said Rowena, frantic to explain herself. "He's sodding sixteen feet tall."
"Or I could get you a shovel," said Helga, resignedly.
"Twelve and a half," said Godric icily, closing the book he had been reading with an audible thump and drawing himself to his full height. "And I can hide from everything. It's called leaving the room."
He stormed out with no more comment, although Rowena shouted "Oh for FUCK'S SAKE!" after him. Half a corridor later, though, he realized he'd forgot his book, and, though it would ruin the effect, he went back to get it.
"What are you still doing here?" Godric demanded.
"We are having a discussion," Rowena said; he supposed she wanted to make it clear he wasn't allowed to be part of it. Helga put one hand over her face.
"Get out of my classroom," he said, grabbing the book and shooing them away with it. They didn't move. He glared. "GO." He pointed at the door.
That seemed to jar whatever rudimentary common sense Rowena had, because when Helga said "Come on, Rowena," she actually listened.
Godric sighed. Maybe this trip wasn't going to be any fun after all.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters:
Rating: PG
Summary: Godric, Rowena, and Helga prepare to visit Ari Stigandrson's family in the north.
Author's Note: After long last, chapter 18 and the new plot arc! Excuses are boring, I know, but I had some unavoidable Big Life Issues that got in the way of writing this, and also caused writer's block. The good news: I have written up to chapter 32, so you will be getting one new chapter a week from me, barring computer issues, apocalypse, etc. The bad news: my beta reader, Kitty, due to her own unavoidable Big Life Issues, is not able to beta for me right now. She did manage to beta the first part of this plot arc (including, obviously, this chapter) but if I don't find another beta before chapter 26, I will be posting sans beta. If you are interested in beta reading for me, please tell me.
(..."Beta" doesn't even look like a word anymore, does it?)
Also, I am compiling an illustrated cast list here. It is still very much a work in progress.
Chapter 1
Master Founders Post
Chapter 17
As the weather warmed and the drippy end of winter became the drizzly start of spring, the three travelers prepared for their voyage to the icy (well, icier) north. Helga took it upon herself to do most of the preparation. She liked planning, and she was the only one of the three who had actually been away from Britain before. But she'd never gone very far north; though Helga liked experimenting with exotic species from other climates, she'd always told people that most evergreen plants had the wrong personality. Besides, she had her own reasons for not wanting to go north, although she supposed they were a bit silly. She tried not to think about them too much.
In truth, the whole trip worried her a bit -- she was happy to go, but something at the back of her head kept insisting that she prepare for this as she would for a business trip. She usually planned based on what she intended to accomplish, but... on this trip, she didn't particularly mean to accomplish anything. She had never made a pilgrimage, and travel for her had never been a pleasure -- the dust of the road, the perilous sea crossing, the bags, the foolish fellow-travelers, the horrible food, the inevitable bandits whose hard skulls were likely to ruin her best shovels... In theory, travel sounded enjoyable, but it never lived up to expectations.
The fellow-travelers were being particularly foolish this time, though. Usually, except for Basil, she didn't know them until the departure day, when a group would gather at the transport key shop to be magicked part of the way together, and then usually continue on foot, making themselves into a noisy, conspicuously well-off target for bandits. This time, though, it was only her, Rowena, and Godric, so Helga couldn't help thinking they should have known better than to be idiots. Rowena insisted on bringing half the books in the library, even though they were irreplaceable and delicate, and Godric kept insisting that he didn't need half the things any sane traveler would have wanted, like extra clothing or blankets. "I can make do," he would say, which seemed to be code for "I don't have that," or "I don't want to carry that," or possibly "I forgot that I assigned all of my students three feet of parchment on something they all hate, so please, just leave me alone to mark them."
In these cases, she usually appealed to his sense of pessimism. "What if the second-worst thing that could happen does?" she asked when he was insisting that he didn't need another cloak. "We can't go by transport key the whole way, Godric. Suppose you fall into the water and you don't drown. You're going to be cold. You could freeze to death slowly once you get back onboard."
"That's impossible. I can't swim," he said pleasantly. "Really, I've got to get these done before they all go home." He gestured at the immense stack of student assignments on his desk.
"Yes, but imagining that through some miracle you did survive," said Helga, "you'd --"
"I'm convinced that God hates me, actually," said Godric. "If He didn't, this pile of work would be much smaller." He squinted at something he was marking. "And in better handwriting. And the Aurae wouldn't have broken three of my fingers for a fight I tried to stop."
She was trying not to be cross with him, but she couldn't help sighing. "That's only proof Lady Aeaeae hates you, Godric. And that you've assigned your students more than you could mark. Don't go blaming God for that. Is it that you just haven't got another cloak? Because I think something can be done about that. Like, for example, you could get another one."
"I have the old one I've had for years," said Godric. "That should be all right, shouldn't it? If you really think I need one."
Helga had seen the state of Godric's (mostly unmagical) belongings when he had come to the school, and though she had not remarked upon them like Rowena had, they were shockingly inadequate. She supposed it was because he had spent so much on food and books, which was understandable given his circumstances, but it didn't lessen her irritation. "No, Godric. I think you need another one."
"Well, I don't see why," said Godric. "It only has a few holes in it." He made a face at one of the student assignments, and scribbled a comment on it, muttering to himself about last-minute work.
"We're going north. Travelling over water. It's going to be windy," she said, wishing he would look at her when she spoke.
"It's going to be summer," Godric pointed out.
Helga sighed. "It's going to be the worst summer you ever saw. Trust me."
"How do you know? Have you been there?" said Godric, gesturing at her with an inky quill. He looked down at the new splatters of ink all over his desk. "Damn. Got to find a spell for that. ...Anyway, Rowena says --"
"Godric, I love Rowena and she's wonderful except when she's terrible, but she's got no idea what she's talking about when it comes to travel," said Helga. "At least, not as far as I know. I mean... she talks like she knows everything, she's always done that, it's just who Rowena is," she said. "But she's never even been as far as Wales."
"I've never been as far as Wales. Anyway, she's Scottish," he said, as if this excused a multitude of sins. "It was farther for her."
Helga sighed. "That's not the point, Godric --"
"Have you been to Wales?" he asked, curiously.
"Basil and I went to Cardiff once for this ridiculous job," said Helga. "Very profitable, though. It was just after we got married. We were nearly eaten by vicious crop pests, and some Muggles mistook us for part of the Tylwyth Teg." It had been sort of fun, actually; it wasn't every day you got mistaken for rebel elves by a lot of arrow-happy vigilantes. "Anyway, there's a reason I'm planning this trip, and I'm only going along to keep you two from killing each other or getting lost." She frowned. "Why are you two going, anyway?"
"Um." He looked stricken, and fumbled hurriedly around for some clean parchment, apparently trying to look as though he was taking her advice. "Right, so I'll get another cloak -- from the village, d'you think, or should I go to London? I don't like going to London, it's got too many people in it, but --"
"Edinburgh's much more convenient," she pointed out, although this ought to be obvious to him by now. He nodded, and jotted down another note. "You know," said Helga, "you're not doing a very good job of hiding it from me, whatever it is you're hiding. Neither is Rowena. I'm only concerned because when she hides things from me, it's usually because they're incredibly stupid. So what are your terrible plans?"
Hesitantly, he looked at her from behind the parchment he was examining. "Aren't you upset with her?"
She shrugged. "I feel like I've been upset with Rowena for years, and it's done me no good. I'm tired of being upset. I mean, she's still wrong and all, but she doesn't want to be. She lives in her own world sometimes, and she's not very good with reality. I am still annoyed with you about the Muggleborns," she said, "but I suppose it's our fault for sending you out against the army."
Godric sighed. "It's just that -- well, they're perfectly good students, they're fine in class. But that's the problem. It's... look, I'm Muggleborn, I know how it is. It would've been a lot easier for me if I hadn't learned magic. It was terrifying. I was taken away from my family and dumped on you lot for years, and you two bullied me the whole time."
That stung, because it was true, but it didn't really apply to their argument. "It's different now, though," she said. "Our Muggleborn students want to learn magic. And think about it, Godric -- wouldn't you have gone along with it if you'd known how well it would've turned out?"
He laughed. "What do you mean, how well it would've turned out?" he demanded. "Let's see," he said, ticking calamities off on his fingers. "Because I learnt magic, I was taken away from my family for years, then when I got back everything had changed, and then when I got this curse put on me, I was even weirder, I nearly got stoned to death, had to run away from home, and when you found me, I was working two jobs and still starving to death. Does that really sound like a happy life?"
"But you're here now," said Helga. "Aren't you happier here? You get books! I can't imagine you being happy without books."
"That was chance," said Godric. "Nothing more, really. If I'd stayed, I'd have been a bit odd, I always was, but at least I'd have been mostly like everyone else. I wouldn't have missed books, I wouldn't have cared at all. And it's not all bad," he insisted. "Witches and wizards may have it a lot better, but I gave up my family and any chance of having friends when I started learning magic, because I couldn't keep pretending there wasn't anything wrong with me."
Helga had a good deal of sympathy for outsiders, as her mother had never married, and in a lot of people's eyes that made her and Leo shameful evidence of wrongdoing rather than people with a slightly complicated family tree. But that last bit had thrown her completely. "What? Do you mean the height thing? Because --"
He snorted. "Oh, no, that came later. That's just a curse. I mean the magic thing."
Helga sighed. Maybe she ought to get Godric to come to church with her and Basil some time. He was a good person; he didn't deserve to think he was going to Hell for magic. "That isn't anything wrong with you," she said. "Is that what you meant about God hating you? Because you've got magic?"
"Well, after I had to go home, my luck went completely wrong --"
"Because of those Muggle idiots?" Helga pointed out.
He sighed. "No. Look, I don't know what it's because of. I just know that there's something wrong with me and I don't know what it is."
"Just because you have bad luck --"
"It's not that," he said. "...Look, it's too hard to explain, Helga, all right? I don't even know how to explain it to myself. You don't need to save me. It's not your job."
She tried not to bristle at his sad little smile. "I just thought I might be able to help," she said. "If it does help any, I don't think there's anything wrong with you."
He snorted. "You're not really the one who gets to decide that, are you?" he asked.
He had a point. She shrugged. "Anyway, you're not going to distract me that easily. What are you and Rowena planning?"
He rolled his eyes at this. "If Rowena hasn't told you -- well. " He considered this briefly, then continued on. "It's not that exciting. Well, not to anybody normal. You know those things that you want to look into because the magic might work or it might not, but they're sort of... they could be used wrong, maybe? And they're a little risky?"
She knew that sort of experiment well enough. "It's no fun if it's not a little risky. Anyway, in my line of work? It's not worth anything if it's not very risky."
"I see your point," he said. "But... it's something like that. We're trying to solve Lord Slytherin's problem of student assignment. I can't tell you anything else because I am forbidden, apparently. So ask Rowena if you want to know more. She thinks people would be angry and upset at a little academic experiment." With a gesture, he indicated what he obviously thought was a miniscule distance between his thumb and index finger, although Godric tended to lack perspective on such things. "But I know she knows you're trustworthy, and I don't think she thinks I am."
Helga tried not to roll her eyes. "I wish you two would quit going out of your way to --"
"Us two? It's always her!" he said.
She gave him a look of patient skepticism.
"Well." He sighed. "Mostly her. I mean. ...It is often her, you have to agree," he said, starting to sound irritated. He wrote something else on his list of necessary supplies, then abruptly put his quill down and glared at her. "Would you stop giving me that look?"
"Why?" she asked. "It makes you argue my point for me, and I don't have to say anything. Anyway, I didn't even say what you were going out of your way to do, so you must know you're guilty. Now, you're getting a cloak, and..." She looked at her own list, contemplating what else she could talk him into today. "New shoes, and --"
"What's wrong the ones I have now?" he asked.
"They're worn. You don't want holes in your shoes when you're travelling. Anyway, if they look that bad you need new ones anyway."
"They are worn," he said. "But not that worn."
It was like pulling teeth sometimes. She rubbed her eyes. "Look, Godric, you want to make a good impression on your hosts. You do want something out of them, even if it's just that they continue to be good hosts. You've got to keep a respectful distance from nobility when you're dealing with them, but you don't want to give the impression that you're too far below them, otherwise they treat you like the help."
He seemed taken aback. "Er. But I am --"
"No," she said, "listen to me. I know what I'm talking about when it comes to depicting myself to others. We're going for 'independent contractor' here, emphasis on independent. You have to be able to leave whenever you like or, if you impress them, they'll try to keep you."
Godric sighed, apparently resigned to his terrible fate. "I hate buying shoes."
"You don't need to make a big production about it, just get it done," she said. "And remember not to get the pointy ones, they're illegal for commoners unless you're on the Council," she warned him. "At least on most of the Continent that I've been to."
"Why would I want the pointy ones?" he asked, grimacing. "They look silly."
She shrugged. "I don't know. Apparently they're coming into fashion. And I'll buy the extra blankets, since I know you'll forget."
"Are you done adding things to my shopping list?" he asked. "Because I really have to get back to these horrible assignments."
"For now," she said. "But now I have to go talk Rowena down from bringing three shelves of books."
"Ooh, which ones?" he asked, brightening. "I'll carry them!"
"Yeah, I'll be certain to pass that on," she said, backing out of the room. "Good luck with that pile of work you made for yourself. The injustice of it is staggering. You have my sympathies."
"Thanks," he said, looking glumly at his desk. "I'll remember that three years from now when I manage to get through it all."
"Any time!" she said brightly. Then she turned and left, hoping Rowena's Charms class would be over by now.
It wasn't, so Helga waited for a few minutes while she went over preparations in her head. She knew she didn't have long to wait, because she could hear the telltale shuffling and rustling that meant the students were packing up their parchment and ink in anticipation of being dismissed.
After Rowena's lecture had finished, there was a brief torrent of students. Helga nearly fought her way upstream and went in, but she heard Rowena lecturing a student, and stopped. Rowena sounded rather irritated.
Helga listened to the conversation with the student as best she could without provoking feelings of guilt. Her conscience required that she be able to pretend not to be listening if anyone saw her, so she didn't press her ear against the crack of the door, even though she wanted to. She thought the unlucky student was the Nigellus boy, who was older than most of the students and all the more conspicuous for it.
Helga privately wondered whether there was something awful going on in the Nigellus household to make the boy so skittish and sullen, but she supposed if anyone would know, it would be Rowena, and after all, wasn't there always something awful going on with nobles? This last thought Helga knew was uncharitable, but it was also true. Anyway, he was sort of That Age, wasn't he, when they got all gloomy? Helga had been That Age once. She had started her herbological creativity at That Age. It was not a good age for kindness or generosity.
The argument ended -- Rowena had the last word, and the boy skulked out of the classroom. She smiled and said "Afternoon!" brightly -- perhaps too brightly -- but he avoided her eye and walked away quickly.
He was definitely That Age.
She knocked on Rowena's door. "What is it now?" Rowena snapped.
"It's only me," said Helga, walking in and putting her roll of parchment down on the desk between them. "Who were you expecting?"
Rowena looked sheepish. "I'm sorry, it's been a long day. Alioth's whinging about the assigned work. Which they all do, of course, though usually not to my face. Apparently the esteemed Nigellus family has some dreary system of magical correspondences -- you know, those dull lists that tell you yellow represents air and Libra, and is good for, I don't know, spells involving hawks, arrows, and kidneys."
"Kidneys?" Helga asked, frowning.
"I can't make this nonsense up!" Rowena insisted, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Next time you make steak and kidney pie, remember -- wear yellow." She rolled her eyes. "At any rate, the poor boy assures me it works ten times better than all the others that every crackpot in the world has dreamt up. None of them work at all, incidentally, and ten times nothing is still nothing, but he insists, and he won't redo his work so I'm going to have to give him low marks." She sighed. "At least he's not actually cheating."
"He wouldn't!" said Helga. "He seems very honorable, if misguided. I think he's just That Age."
"What age?" Rowena.
"You know, when you start writing bad poems and hanging around with especially lewd minstrels and complaining that your parents don't understand you --"
"My parents don't understand me," Rowena pointed out. "I don't understand them either. I don't really see the problem."
"Well, and --"
"But my poetry is moderately improved," Rowena added, "so I must have passed out of the dangerous years. Of course, I'm older than you -- tell me, Helga, how is your poetry?"
"I never touch the stuff," said Helga.
Rowena boggled at her. "What, really? Never?"
"Parchment's too expensive to waste on doggerel, and I've no head for rhyme schemes," said Helga. "Anyway, I've come about the supplies for the trip," she said.
"Oh, gods, the books," said Rowena. "I'm sorry, I've narrowed it down to only half what I started with but I know you wanted a lot less --"
"Oh, no, don't worry about that," said Helga, "I've got good news! Godric's agreed to carry the books."
Rowena went pale. "Oh. Oh. That's..."
"So you can take whatever you like!" she said helpfully. "I'm certain he'll take good care of them aboard ship. You know, he's very enthusiastic about this whole travel thing, and I must say, I had rather underestimated him."
"I'll have to take only books I don't mind losing, I suppose," said Rowena. "Do you think he gets seasick?"
"He says he's never been seasick," said Helga, smiling broadly.
"Oh, good," Rowena said.
"Of course," Helga added, "he's never been to sea..."
Rowena winced. "Is there any way I can just ask him not to touch my books?"
"I suppose if you want to hurt his feelings," said Helga. She loved it when plans came together like this. She would have to thank Godric later.
"I don't care about his feelings, I care about my books," Rowena pointed out.
"Well, I suppose you could cut down on the books you're taking," said Helga. "Lessen the risk. I don't think you ought to bring books at all, frankly, they're much too heavy. Oh, don't worry, you won't be completely bored," said Helga, at Rowena's doubtful expression. "We can tell stories! Godric hasn't heard half of ours, and I bet we haven't heard most of his, and you always have those violent pagan ones. Those are fun!"
"It might not be a great idea to tell stories about Odysseus aboard ship," said Rowena.
"Why not?"
"They don't exactly paint the god of the sea in the most favorable light," said Rowena. "And even if they don't believe in my gods, I've heard about how superstitious sailors are."
"Good point," said Helga. "Maybe you can transpose the story to a desert! He could be like Moses!"
"...you know, I don't think that would work at all," said Rowena. "Since it's half about shipwrecks and whirlpools."
"Dust storms and quicksand!" said Helga. She didn't think you got quicksand in deserts, actually, but it wasn't as though either the sailors or Rowena knew that.
"Maybe," said Rowena skeptically. "We'll see. Hm." She paused, absently holding the soft end of her quill to her face. "Do you have that list of books I was going to take, or did I keep that?"
"You made two copies, but if you've lost it already, I've got the one you gave me," said Helga helpfully.
"I think I've lost it already," said Rowena. "Probably used it to work out some figures." She took the copy Helga gave her, and after a little pondering, circled four books. "I don't like these much, and they were cheap. Godric can have them if he likes. You can even tell him I said that."
"Tell him yourself," said Helga, who had no interest in becoming a messenger.
"No, then he'd get the idea I was giving him a present," said Rowena. "I spend too much time with Godric, you know. I'm getting very sick of him."
"You are?" she asked, surprised. "I thought you had actually been getting on for once."
Rowena looked extremely dismayed at this observation. "We have," she said. "It's awful. He got clever. When did he get clever?"
Helga laughed. "Probably around when he stopped being eleven and started being himself."
"Well, it's disconcerting. I almost wish he would stop, only I like him better like this," said Rowena, morosely. "It doesn't mean I have to be nice to him, though, right? That's your job."
Helga raised an eyebrow. "You know, Rowena, it's not actually my job to be nice to anybody. It's just that I have to work with people, and it's easier if --"
"All right, fine," sighed Rowena. "I'll try to be nice to Godric as long as I can keep my books safe from him. But if he insists on endangering anything I might want to reread, I'm going to be a bitch about it."
"Good luck with that," said Helga, who didn't see this going very well. "I have a glorious afternoon of weeding ahead of me."
* * *
Summer came too quickly for Godric. He was looking forward to the trip, but summer was not his favorite time of year. Generally, he preferred the castle to be full of students, as un-social as he was, because that meant he could maintain the illusion of having lots of human interaction and being very busy.
Besides, without student work to mark, he didn't know how he could keep making excuses to avoid Friday pub nights with Helga and Rowena. It was nice that they were on good terms again, but why they should want him around in public he didn't know. Besides, Rowena was a bad singer even when she was sober. He couldn't imagine listening to her drunk.
That was the problem that faced him now -- not the singing, but the pub night as a whole. "Oh come on, Godric, you can't say you've got things to mark, there's no students left," said Helga.
"There are Helena and Julian and Devlin," said Rowena, "but I'm bringing them to the de Malfoies' on Monday."
"Can't you take them tomorrow?" Helga asked.
"Urgh. I don't really think I should be dealing with a Transport Key tomorrow morning," Rowena pointed out. "And a witch arriving by broom on Sunday is probably bad luck among Muggles."
"Speak for yourself," said Helga. "I'm excellent luck."
"You don't fly," said Rowena.
Helga ignored this. "So are you coming, Runty?"
Godric sighed heavily. "Why do you still call me that?" he asked.
"What do you mean, why?" Helga asked. "It's your name, isn't it?"
"Only because you gave it to me," he pointed out.
"Oh that's right, I did," she said, looking as though she'd just remembered. "I forgot, I thought it was Rowena."
"No, it was definitely you," said Godric. Everything they had ever done to him was always Helga's idea.
"It was," said Rowena. "Mind, it fit." She looked up at Godric skeptically, and he hunched over his desk, avoiding her eye. "Still does, in an odd sort of way," she said.
He could feel his face growing red. "Leave me alone," he snapped. "I get plenty of staring without you, why do you think I'd rather not go?"
Rowena recoiled visibly. "You're -- I didn't mean -- that wasn't --" An irritable look settled on her face, and she regained her composure quickly. "If you're going to be so sensitive about --"
Helga grimaced. "I'm sorry, Godric, I won't do it again," she said over Rowena's continued protests. "And Rowena?"
"-- can't even make a little in-joke --"
"Rowena!" Helga said again.
"-- like you need to be miserable all the time. What?" Rowena demanded.
Helga sighed. "Rowena, stop digging."
"It's the way he carries himself, it's not my fault he thinks he can hide from everything," said Rowena, frantic to explain herself. "He's sodding sixteen feet tall."
"Or I could get you a shovel," said Helga, resignedly.
"Twelve and a half," said Godric icily, closing the book he had been reading with an audible thump and drawing himself to his full height. "And I can hide from everything. It's called leaving the room."
He stormed out with no more comment, although Rowena shouted "Oh for FUCK'S SAKE!" after him. Half a corridor later, though, he realized he'd forgot his book, and, though it would ruin the effect, he went back to get it.
"What are you still doing here?" Godric demanded.
"We are having a discussion," Rowena said; he supposed she wanted to make it clear he wasn't allowed to be part of it. Helga put one hand over her face.
"Get out of my classroom," he said, grabbing the book and shooing them away with it. They didn't move. He glared. "GO." He pointed at the door.
That seemed to jar whatever rudimentary common sense Rowena had, because when Helga said "Come on, Rowena," she actually listened.
Godric sighed. Maybe this trip wasn't going to be any fun after all.