Chapter Text
"I think we should make it a priority to standardize the way those sorts of spells are done," Helga said. "It could be dangerous if everyone in the school approaches them in their own way, especially if we start schooling at age eleven, as Godric suggests."
It was a pleasant morning, and everyone was spending it in the manor's garden, sitting on benches amid piles of books. You were listening to the scholars' discussions and found that you were keeping up more than usual. You understood nearly everything they'd been talking about, today. Of course, it was more likely that they were simply tackling a simpler topic than that you were becoming smarter, but still it was nice to be able to follow along. Their talks were interesting.
"I still believe we should start them earlier," Salazar said. "Get them away from the Muggle influences as soon as they can speak and read."
Godric shook his head. "No parents will agree to that, except perhaps the ones from the oldest, stodgiest of families, and anyway, I thought you said you didn't want the ones with 'Muggle influences' in the school at all."
"You mean mudbloods? Of course not; that goes without saying. But they aren't the only ones to live in proximity with Muggles. Anyway, if we're going on your premise that the mudbloods are still to count as witches and wizards for our purposes, then it follows that we should separate them from their Muggle families before they can absorb any of their foul ways."
The other three made scornful noises at Salazar's words, and you suppressed the urge to shift uncomfortably, lest any movement cause Salazar to glance over at you; separating students from their Muggle influences sounded an awful lot like some of the reasons he had given for secluding you here.
"Do you know, that really might be the worst thing about you, Sal," Helga sighed.
"I'm sure it doesn't come close," Salazar replied dryly.
"'Foul ways'..." Godric said sourly. "As if you've ever so much as held a conversation with one..."
"Why would I want to?"
"Ignorance is ignorance, whether you seek it out deliberately or not," Rowena said.
"Well put, Ro," Helga said.
"All ignorance is not of equal value, though," Salazar said, engaging Rowena's statement on a more profound level than he had the others, but still not yielding to it. "Ignorance of what lies at the bottom of the ocean, for example. Not all things need be known."
Rowena stared at him unwaveringly for several seconds before replying, quietly but steadily, "Well, that's your opinion, anyway. To Helga's original point," she continued (though you wished that they would return to the topic of separating the Muggle-born students from their families, because you suspected that if they argued with Salazar about it for long enough, they would end up dismantling their own logic in abducting you, and how convenient would it be if you could get the scholars to unwittingly take apart their own arguments?), "I can see the danger in letting everybody manifest their magic differently, as it will complicate instruction quite a bit, but I would hate to discourage creativity or innovation. Can't we just ensure that we have the necessary facilities to accommodate any accidents?"
"It won't discourage creativity if we give specific instructions," Godric argued. "If anything, it'll make sure that they rebel and try things their own way."
"Not everyone is you, Godric," Salazar said. "Some people try to follow rules."
"You don't."
"I did say 'some'."
"That's why we're mates."
"Indeed."
"Hopefully that Muggle-hating thing is just a phase."
"Doubtful."
(You doubted it as well; if anything, Salazar's Muggle-hating belonged to a pattern of the behavior that the others merely seemed content ignoring in the hopes that it didn't worsen. To be fair, you hoped it didn't worsen, too; the scholars' friendship was a powerful thing, and who knew what would happen if it were disrupted. And more pertinently, who knew what would happen if these obsessive personalities stopped being in agreement about who you should stay with. You hoped that, if their friendship ever waned, their feelings for you would wane with it. Otherwise...You imagined being split into fourths.)
"Oh, don't say that," Helga chided. "At any rate, perhaps we can inspire creativity when they're older, and inspire safety when they're younger? While still having the facilities to accommodate any accidents that arise despite our caution. After all, while there are multiple ways to do a spell right, there are exponentially more ways to do it wrong and hurt one's self or others."
"A strong familiarity with magical theory lessens that risks," Rowena said.
"Children don't like theory," Godric pointed out. "They like doing magic. And if we prohibit them from doing magic until they've learned the theory behind it, then the most compliant of them will develop Obscuruses and the least will end up doing magic outside of our guidance anyway. Excepting, of course, those who happen to learn boring things quickly."
Rowena furrowed her brow and nodded. "Thank you for reminding me to consider those who are slower in learning; I had rather forgotten."
How can you, when I'm right here? you thought, but you didn't say it aloud because Helga always felt the need to argue with your self-deprecating jokes.
"These problems you raise could all be solved if we start teaching when they're younger," Salazar insisted. "Younger minds are more absorbent. If they learn magical theory while they are learning language-"
"Salazar, and I apologize for interrupting, but on a practical level, how can you expect the four of us to teach older students while raising the younger ones?" Rowena asked. "Are we to keep a nursemaid on staff who is also a magitheoretician? What population of students are you expecting to have to support?"
"You three are the ones who love mudbloods so much. I am merely operating within your moral parameters. Purebloods would not require nearly as young an introduction to wizardry, because their parents could be expected to perform that task."
"Ignoring that for the moment, how much of your time do you expect to commit to teaching so many students?"
And at the same time, all four scholars glanced at you, and you pretended to be fascinated by the grass, to avoid eye contact. Because of course, that was what Rowena meant when she referred to Salazar's time: how much time with you was he willing to sacrifice doing his job? How much space in his life would his ambition be allowed to take up before it infringed on his obsession?
You wondered, suddenly, how different things would be if you were Muggle-born. Seemingly, the other three wouldn't be bothered by it, but you could only assume that Salazar wouldn't be so taken with you. Would he help to argue for your release, if you were someone he didn't want here? Or would he accept that you were a necessity to the others, and be unfriendly with you in the meantime? That would not go over well with Godric, Rowena, and Helga. Or maybe, he would just treat you as no more of an entity than any significant other of his friends.
And on that topic, would the scholars ever wed? They came from important families; surely they would have to? Or at least be expected to, and possibly face some kind of social or political consequences if they did not. Maybe doing so would even help their feelings about you to lessen.
"We invite them when they're eleven, then," Salazar said, finally. "I guess we...send them a letter or something."
"We'll have to do a bit more than that, for the Muggle-borns," Helga pointed out. "We'll have to explain ourselves to them in person; Muggle parents won't just send their children off to a mysterious location to learn magic."
"Muggle parents will most likely drown their children the moment a hint of magic is shown," Salazar pronounced.
"Oh, do stop."
"Yes, we should pay visits to the Muggle-borns," Godric said. "Obviously, Salazar should not be involved in that process."
"Nor does he want to be."
"This sounds like fine tuning," Rowena observed, frowning. "Might I remind all of you that we don't have a building yet? Or even the idea of where to put one?"
"There's no wrong time to think," Salazar said, with a coy tone that suggested he was amusing himself tremendously by saying what sounded like a truism that Rowena herself would use, "wouldn't you say, Rowena?"
"No," she replied flatly. "Of course I wouldn't. That's stupid. There's a wrong time for everything."
Salazar chuckled. You had to smile, too; her candor, at least, was endearing.
"You're being awfully quiet over there, dearest," Godric observed, returning attention to you again. "Are we boring you that much?"
You opened your mouth to answer him.
Then you found yourself sitting in an armchair in Rowena's study.
You blinked several times, adjusting to the comparative darkness and getting your bearings as you stopped experiencing the memory. Rowena was staring into space, neither looking at you nor taking notes. It actually made you a bit nervous, her stillness, how deep she was in thought. Only so much anxiety could reach you, through the potion she always gave you before voyaging into your mind, but the fact that you were reacting to something unusual, and not just something off-putting, helped it along. What, in that memory, had been so mentally stimulating to her? Was something wrong?
"That was a recent one," you spoke up, after a full minute had passed and she still hadn't moved. Normally, she chose more distant memories; events she hadn't been a part of. It was unclear why she had made this exception, watching a scene from just a few hours ago- just this morning.
"I was curious," Rowena replied, in a voice as though she had water in her ears. Her eyes still weren't quite focused. "I could see that you were thinking over there, but in the...intricacies of our conversation, I didn't get a chance to ask you what it was you were thinking about."
You frowned. Could she actually read your thoughts themselves, in addition to the memories? That was not very welcome news. "Well, what did you think?"
She licked her lips. You remembered the time she had kissed you. "I think you raised a few interesting points."
So vague. Where was her blunt candor now? "Such as?"
"Well...for one example, you wondered whether Salazar would still care for you if you were Muggle-born." She paused for just a moment. "I think you...underestimate how vehemently he tried not to become this entangled. He made every effort to convince himself to see you as...unworthy of his attention, because you lived in the vicinity of Muggles, and so closely as well, but he couldn't manage it. And he prides himself on being able to master his own thoughts and feelings; you really confounded him."
You blinked. You felt peculiarly as though there was something you were supposed to know or remember on this subject, or related to this subject. All you could say, however, was, "Oh. So...you don't think it would make a difference if I were Muggle-born?"
"It would make a difference; he would be more agitated with himself, or else he would have to revise his own opinions about a lot of things. So much the better, though. Don't you think?"
You avoided answering; you hadn't forgotten that the scholars reviewed each other's memories. Nothing you said to any of them was private. "Was that all you were thinking about?"
"No," Rowena said. "It's just all that I am prepared to speak on now. I...might leave the manor, when our time is up. I have to continue pondering your points."
Suddenly, hope fluttered inside you. You had thought quite a bit about the scholars' strange logic for imprisoning you, and how close they had come to unraveling it. Was that the revelation that Rowena was struggling with now? Would her rational self become an ally to you, in this?
"In the meantime, we can go again, though," Rowena said, and with no more warning, you fell backward into memories once more.
In rapid succession, you were five, being held by your mother, and you were eight, being pushed to the ground by the Muggle boy from across the street, and you were twelve, appraising your own reflection in a shop window, and more and more until Rowena withdrew. Then you sat for a few silent minutes while she jotted notes, until Godric came knocking.
You went through the rest of your day in the normal way, until dinner.
When the time for dinner came, you sat in your seat and Salazar sat in his seat and Godric in his and Helga in hers. But Rowena's seat was empty. Helga promptly went searching the manor for her, to see if she had simply lost track of time, but returned with the news that she was nowhere to be found.
"Oh," you said then, frowning a little. "She said that she might leave the manor."
"Did she say why, or when she would be back?" Helga asked.
You struggled to think of what she'd said exactly. You were sure that you remembered, but you always had a slightly harder time getting your thoughts in order in the few minutes immediately after your time with Salazar.
Helga seemed to gather this, as she soon exasperatedly said, "Sal, I swear on my magic..."
"I'll sort it out," Godric assured her. To you, he added, "Dearest, look at me."
You turned just in time to fall into your memories once again. It was choppier than it normally was, probably because Godric wasn't quite as good at it. You saw a flash of this morning, a flash of yesterday, before he course corrected, and you were in the room with Rowena, hearing her exact words, and...and there was a flash of a room, decorated in dark green, and a black snake as big as your arm...
Your mind returned to the present, and Godric informed the others, "Rowena said to Dearest, and I quote, 'I might leave the manor, when our time is up. I have to continue pondering your points'."
"Well, Dearest," Salazar said, his voice silky as ever, but unable to disguise how tense he appeared, "what points did you make?"
"I don't know," you insisted. You had guessed that it was about your thoughts on your imprisonment, but you didn't know for sure. Rowena certainly hadn't made anything clear.
The scholars fell silent, exchanging troubled glances. You were a bit surprised to discover that they were so invested in Rowena's absence. You had known that they were friends, but the way Helga had searched the house and Godric had searched your mind and Salazar, though inactive, seemed uncommonly on-edge spoke volumes about how concerned they were, which in turn spoke volumes about how much they cared about her.
The food had appeared on the table at the expected time, so after another moment's hesitation, Godric pointed out, "If she told Fiddy to bring us our dinner on time, then it seems she expected not to be around for the start of the meal. I can't imagine she'll be out much longer."
"I do not like her out alone so late," Helga said, and Salazar shook his head in mute agreement.
"You do her no credit," Godric chastened. "She is a very capable witch."
"Yes, but she can be very unfocused," Salazar said.
"Let's eat," Godric insisted. "Nothing she said to Dearest suggested that she would be gone too long."
They ate, very slowly, but Rowena did not show up for dinner at all. When the unavoidable haze of sleep began to engulf you due to your spiked portions, Salazar scooped you up and carried you, silently, to your room.
You dreamed of a snake twisting around your leg, winding higher and higher, from ankle to calf to knee to thigh. You couldn't see it, but the feeling of it was heavy and frightening. You kicked outward, trying to shake it off, and...
...and your foot hit a soft surface, and you opened your eyes.
It was morning, and Helga was sitting on your bed's edge, running her fingers gently along your cheek. You tensed and twitched away, and she kept her hand suspended in place for a wistful moment before retracting it.
"Good morning," she said. "Rowena is still not back, so the boys are out looking for her. Let's get you cleaned up and dressed, yeah?"
You put forth no resistance as she ushered you toward the washroom. You still felt heavy with sleep, and your mind was still finding its pace as it accounted for the strange facts that Rowena was still missing and Godric and Salazar were out of the manor and you would be spending this morning with Helga. The latter flicked her wand and conjured a hot bath, but it wasn't until she started methodically peeling off your garments that you became sharply aware of your surroundings.
"Why do you think you need to help me with that?" you asked groggily. "You don't most days."
"No, but spending time with you and caring for you alleviates my worry a great deal. When you are around, it is easy not to think of anything else."
Your clothes fell in a ring around your feet, and Helga's gaze passed slowly over the whole length of your body. You covered what you could with your hands and arms as you eased into the tub.
In a quiet voice, Helga said, "Dearest, you are perfect, you know."
You turned your face away as she descended to kneel beside the tub.
"Every physical flaw, every slightly crooked shape or odd angle...they only add to your perfection, and I don't know how I'm meant to stand it." It seemed that her statement at the end was meant to be a joke, but her voice wavered as though it wasn't really. "When your beauty is perfect, and your flaws are perfect, how am I meant to cope with that, I ask you?"
You shook your head. "Is there a chance that I'm secretly part Veela or something? I can't understand why all of you..."
"Oh no. Believe you me, Salazar checked into everything of the sort. He also investigated whether you were slipping us love potion. He was rather as annoyed by his affection for you, in the beginning, as you are by our combined affection now. Now...well, you've observed how taken he is with you."
Taken with you. They never did use the correct terms for their fixation, did they?
"At any rate, I don't think my judgement is distorted or my wits inhibited when I say that you are beautiful," Helga told you, delivering the flowery statement with utter simplicity.
You did not thank her; you had fallen out of the habit of reflexively saying thanks, now that you were in captivity.
The rest of the bath went by in relative silence. You wondered more about Rowena's disappearance. You refused to relinquish the hope that when she returned, it would be with a renewed sympathy to your perspective on all of this, but would that matter? Would it matter if Rowena became even the most passionate advocate for your plight, when Helga gained such incomprehensible pleasure from caring for you and Salazar was determined to keep you even after actively trying not to want you around?
Helga dried you off and got you dressed in something pretty and comfortable. She was humming contentedly by now; true to her word, it seemed your presence had numbed her to Rowena's mysterious absence. Once all of the typical ablutions were undergone, the both of you left your room.
Godric and Salazar were back, now, having had no success in finding Rowena. Helga went to speak with them in hushed voices while you went on with your morning routine of exploring the house.
You were so deep in thought that you didn't even notice that you had wandered to the mysterious door where you often heard sounds until you had your ear pressed to the door through sheer muscle memory. There were faint snoring sounds today, which fascinated you. Who or what was sleeping in Ravenclaw manor? It was too big a sound to be a house elf, but how could it be a person? You imagined you would know if another person was living in this house. Unless of course they're being hidden from you, the obvious thought danced through your mind.
You raised your fist and lightly rapped on the door. When the snoring did not falter in the slightest, you knocked again, louder. This time, the snoring did stop, and there was a moment of silence before whatever was inside the room let out an awful yelp sound, like it was meant to be a scream but the room's occupant was too hoarse and possibly had some kind of obstruction in their mouth. Like...a gag?
Your breathing hitched at the thought, but then a voice behind you amusedly observed, "Always so curious."
It was Salazar, standing surprisingly close given that you hadn't heard his approach.
"What's in here?" you asked.
"Nothing worth discussing," he said, and he laid his hand on your back and ushered you down the hallway. "Helga says it is time for breakfast."
You allowed him to lead you away, but you persisted in your questioning. "It sounded like a person."
"Lots of things sound like people," Salazar answered darkly. "It falls to us not to be deceived."
The idea of trying to challenge this statement did not appeal to you in that moment. The only thing you had ever successfully convinced Salazar of was (apparently) that falling obsessively in love with you was a worthwhile undertaking, and that had been quite inadvertent and counterproductive. "How long has it been in there?" you asked instead.
"Only a few days."
"I've been hearing noises behind that door for much longer."
"So you have. I wonder what that means." So Slytherin found it funny to give you only enough information to produce more questions, then.
"Well, if you shan't explain, then I shan't..." You trailed off as the two of you entered the dining room. Godric and Helga had already arrived, though seemingly only just; only one person in the room had made it to their seat, and it wasn't either of them.
Rowena was sitting in her place at the table's head as matter-of-factly as though anyone knew where she'd gone. She seemed slightly gloomy, but not in a manner that was starkly different from any normal downturn in her mood. Her gaze landed on you as you entered, and she smiled slightly, as though the sight of you had lifted away the gloom. Her levity was not allowed to last long, though.
It was Helga who broke the silence into which they'd lapsed upon seeing her; the witch sharply asked, "Rowena, have you any idea how worried we have been?"
Rowena blinked several times, stunned. You couldn't blame her; Helga hardly ever acted so sharp. "No, I haven't any idea. Why have you been worried?"
"You have been gone since yesterday afternoon! Dearest was able to tell us only what you said to them on the matter, which was precious little, and none of us knew where you'd gone."
"Where were you?" Godric asked, and he didn't sound sharp, but rather offended by the rude infringement on his emotions that had been Rowena's unexplained absence.
"I had to run an errand," Rowena answered.
"An errand?"
"I got married."
Your already-dwindling hope that Rowena's departure had been prompted by your thoughts on imprisonment vanished unceremoniously. No, you remembered internally wondering about when and whether the scholars would wed. That had been Rowena's takeaway?!
This well disrupted the flow of plaintive interrogation, as the three other scholars fell into another stunned silence. Godric broke this one, in a tone that was both sarcastic and vaguely hysterical:
"Oh, good, why didn't you mention? We'd have brought a wedding gift, or..."
"Pardon?" Salazar questioned Rowena, his eyes narrowed. There was something peculiarly indignant about his expression, as though Rowena had just revealed that she'd stolen something of his.
"I took a husband," Rowena stated, "from one of the other old families. He'd offered in the past, so it was just a matter of paperwork and a quick ceremony..."
"Rowena, you got married?" Helga said, her voice high and strained. "Why?"
"Well, we have to get married eventually," she said sensibly. "Dearest pointed it out to me."
"I did not," you said, quite glad to go without any piece of whatever was going on here.
"You did. In your mind. Remember?"
"Thinking something privately isn't the same thing as saying it."
"It's not," Godric agreed.
"In fact, I might even say that listening to my thoughts at all is an invasion of-"
"Listen, I agreed with you on the last thing, don't push it," Godric said with a wry smile.
"It was better to get this out of the way now," Rowena continued, "as I had an open offer from a man I figured wouldn't make a bother of himself; he's content to just enjoy the prestige of the union. He doesn't need money or any of my attention; he won't live here, nor I there. He doesn't expect me to take his name. It's just a marriage. A very convenient one."
"And you didn't think to ask us before going out and marrying?" Salazar asked.
"If it doesn't alter any of our agreements and understandings, I don't see why I should have to," Rowena said. She was still taking a calm, sensible tone, with an added note of curiosity, as it seemed she legitimately didn't understand Salazar's reaction.
You were beginning to, though. You remembered what she'd said about him before you'd been taken here: that he was the most possessive of the four. The fact that this possessiveness didn't only apply to you was an interesting discovery.
"Anyway, this isn't what I hoped to discuss with you," Rowena carried on. "I actually think I may have found a place for our school. I saw it in a dream; there was a hog covered in warts, and it-"
"I am genuinely interested in hearing what more you've got to say on this matter," Godric cut in, "but I don't think we've finished discussing the revelation that you've gone and married someone."
"Oh, why?" Rowena protested. It seemed that having to hold off on relaying her dream about the hog was the final straw. "You know that it was necessary that I marry eventually, and we've discussed in the past that we shouldn't marry each other, because history would cease to see us as four brilliant witches and wizards and begin to see us as two brilliant wizards and their wives..."
"Yes, but you still might have given us warning," Helga sighed.
"Who is he, anyway?" Salazar asked. "This purportedly unobtrusive husband of yours, whom you are so confident will ask no more of you than the prestige of association?"
Rowena huffed. "You are all adjusting to the news, I see. I will go wait for you in the library, at which point I hope we can speak on more important matters." And she rose and left the room.
...
The tension between the scholars ebbed away over the first few minutes in the library. Salazar wouldn't speak to anyone, but Helga had adopted a more pacific demeanor, and Godric invited Rowena to tell them of her dream. Apparently, in it, a warty hog showed her a stretch of land that might be perfect for their school.
"There is a forest," Rowena said, excitement luminous in her eyes, "and a large lake. No Muggles nearby, so there are no threats to secrecy. We simply must go see the land."
"Where is it?" Helga asked.
"Not far; it is also in Scotland. Can we go and find it tomorrow? It won't be hard to bring Dearest with us. If you worry escape will be a problem, then at the very least we can tie a rope around their waist-"
"A rope?" you said indignantly. "As though I were a dog?"
"I did say at the very least. More likely, we'll use more advanced magic than just manual binding."
Godric chuckled. "Comforting, that is. Right, Dearest?"
They went back to talking through their plans to explore the potential school grounds. Rowena twirled her wand through the air, and all of the scholars' notes on the planned dimensions of the building itself spiraled through the air and then arranged themselves on the floor, in some particular order that you couldn't well make sense of. They talked over the notes, then, though Salazar kept to his silence.
He had a surly look about him, and you felt, not for the first time, the peculiar sense that you ought to be remembering something.
You thought about yesterday, when Godric had searched your memories and you had seen flashes of a green room and a black snake. The oddest part was, you knew that you had been afraid of snakes for years, but the image of the black snake had inspired a brief but definite feeling of fondness. Unbothered affection. Not like last night's unsettling dream...
Suddenly, a memory washed over you: Salazar carefully and thoroughly wrapping your eyes in a cloth, blindfolding you, and then, out of the darkness, the feeling of something large slithering across your lap, across the open palms of your hands, and a jolt of visceral terror. It wasn't the size, as this one wasn't much bigger than the first snake; something about the other snake, the one you weren't supposed to see, was just inherently frightening in a way that couldn't be explained.
The memory passed, but in its going, there was a fleeting recollection of another memory- one that you were sure wasn't yours. It was an image of Salazar, years younger, holding an egg.
Then you blinked, and the library around you came back into focus. Rowena and Godric were becoming increasingly animated about the idea of a lake and a forest as a part of the school grounds, whereas Helga was pointing out potential risks, albeit through an indulgent smile.
"We will know once we have made the trip," Godric said. "If it is the right place for the school, I am certain we will feel it."
"We will feel it, Godric?" Salazar mocked, breaking his silence. "Where? Our elbows?"
"From context, I assume he means in our souls," Rowena remarked.
Salazar scoffed. "Souls."
"Don't tell me you still underestimate the power of souls, Sal," Helga chided. "Where is it you think your feelings for Dearest come from? Your mind?"
Salazar glanced at you, and it made you uncomfortable how noticeably his expression softened. It wasn't that he ceased to convey mockery, but rather that the tension in his lips and eyebrows relaxed all at once. "No," he replied. A full, unconditional concession to Helga's point, this time. "Certainly not from there."