Avalon - Chapter 6 - An Old Friend

An Old Friend

“Come, Rowena, you must understand that a man possessing such power is one we must watch closely. Who knows what he is capable of?”

“You mean much like yourself, Myrddin?” Rowena returned. “Do you not both wield and covet such power?”

“I am no threat to the people.”

“You actions suggest otherwise,” Rowena replied. “You meddle in things you have no business meddling, and you put us in danger. Perhaps not now, but one day, the muggles will either want us dead or to place us beneath their heel. You are only making that reality more plausible with your king.”

Myrddin shook his head.

“I want what is best for everybody,” he defended. “We will not find ourselves out of favour with them if I am successful.”

“For now,” Rowena pointed out. “What happens when you die, or have you not even considered it? Our kind should be left out of the affairs of muggles, and them kept well away from us. I’m sorry that your journey has been wasted, but I cannot help you.”

Myrddin offered her a tight smile as he stood.

“You know something, Rowena.”

“And you are hiding something,” Rowena bit back. “I know you of old, Myrddin. I know when you are not being forthcoming. Mark my words, you are acting foolish.”

“I am following the path set out for me to traverse. Nothing more.”

Rowena shook her head.

“It will be the ruin of us all. Your success will be our downfall.”

“Then we must agree to disagree,” Myrddin sighed. “I have been tasked with guiding Arthur, and…”

“Through your own machinations! Do not pretend that you have not had a hand in him becoming king or that you have not manipulated circumstances to align with your beliefs!”

Myrddin offered her an inclination of his head as he wrapped a travelling cloak around his shoulders.

“Then I expect that this is where our paths truly divert,” he said sadly. “I had hoped that you would see sense, that you would come to understand my purpose, but I suppose it is too much for you to understand. I am grateful for all you have taught me, but I will not be deterred. Arthur is king, he will reclaim his lands, and there is not a person that I will allow to prevent it.”

Myrddin left and Rowena could only shake her head in disappointment.

He simply would not admit that what he was doing was beyond foolish, and though he’d always been stubborn, Rowena had expected he would one day come to his senses.

That had not happened, and if anything, he’d only become more ignorant of the repercussions of his actions.

Harry.

Myrddin was already looking for Harry, and Rowena was grateful that his presence here had been kept under wraps, though that would change when he was sorted.

It had been close to a moon ago that she and Myrddin had seemingly parted ways permanently, but Rowena suspected he would again return to the castle to seek answers to questions that would undoubtedly plague him.

If he chose to continue on his path, then the stars would indeed align, and it seemed as though the intention was that Myrddin and Harry would one day meet.

The boy would need to be prepared for such an eventuality.

Although Myrddin came across as genial for the most part, he was perhaps the most dangerous man in all of Britain.

There had never been a more talented student that passed through the halls of Hogwarts, and by now, Rowena had no doubt that he would be incredibly difficult to stop.

Even at a young age, Myrddin was exceptional, and he’d only thrived under the guidance of each of the Founders of the school.

Disappointment.

That was all Rowena felt when she pondered their former student.

“You must finish the passage you are working on,” she announced to some of the younger students, who were being assessed in their understanding of the Charms she had been teaching them.

Despite everything else happening outside of the castle, Rowena continued to enjoy teaching and delving into her own pursuits in her free time. However, as much as she enjoyed the practical aspect of magic, it was the workings of the mind that interested her so.

Meeting Salazar had been quite the boon.

Although she had become an excellent practitioner of the Mind Arts, she was often very pragmatic when it came to her own learning, but Salazar was not hindered by such.

He possessed an exceptional mind of his own, but his brilliance in the Mind Arts had given Rowena an incredible insight into the workings of the human mind, the differences and similarities that separated every person from the other, and how it impacted their use of magic.

It was fascinating to say the least, and Rowena was certain that they’d barely scratched the surface of what was possible from learning the skills of Occlumency and Legilimency.

“Quills down,” she instructed, offering the small group a smile. “I will read through your work and we will revisit during our next session. Now, you may leave. Helga will be waiting for you.”

The students filed out of the room and Rowena gathered up the sheets of parchment, nodding approvingly as she briefly scanned some of what had been written.

She couldn’t help but lament on just how brilliant an instructor Myrddin could’ve been.

He claimed that he was acting in the best interest of the people at large, but he only sought to serve his own interpretation of what he believed he’d seen in the stars, and there was nothing that would change his mind.

The blood of many would be on his hands, and the boy king he’d chosen as his puppet would likely never know how much he’d been manipulated into doing the bidding of the wizard who claimed to not want the crown for himself but may as well have taken it, nonetheless.

Myrddin had been right about one thing; war was indeed on the horizon, a great war that he couldn’t see he would be responsible for.

If the muggles wished to continue slaughtering one another until they found their own peace, that should be their prerogative, not that of a man who should know better.

Death.

That was all Myrddin would bring.

One day, the Wizard’s Council would cease being so reticent in their decision making, and for the best, they would see the foolishness of Myrddin’s efforts.

Rowena, however, suspected such a decision would come too little too late.

(Break)

Harry grimaced as he crossed his legs and winced at the aches that continued to bother him.

It had been almost a month since Godric had begun physically and mentally pushing him as far as he could, and although Harry had yet to give the man the satisfaction of quitting or asking the man to take it easier, he often wished he had.

Each day, he seemed to wake up with a new kind of discomfort coursing through him, and today, it was his legs that protested with each movement.

Even walking was proving to be difficult, but there was no respite from Godric’s training.

“Now, close your eyes,” Salazar instructed.

The small group of nine students did so and Harry began his breathing exercises, allowing a sense of calmness to wash over him.

Salazar had been just as relentless as Godric, and though he didn’t physically tire Harry the way his colleague did, he certainly put him through his paces in his own way.

Day in and day out he felt as though he was being passed between the two, and by the time the sun set in the evening, all he seemed to be able to do was crawl into bed to recover for the next.

Hogwarts quickly proved to be much different than Harry had anticipated.

Lessons took place every day within the castle, but they were unlike what Harry was used to.

None of the instructors here were referred to as Professor, and they didn’t teach classes in a way that was reminiscent of the likes of McGonagall and Snape.

With smaller classes, it was much less formal, though no less demanding.

There was no History of Magic classes, and none of the others were compulsory. Students simply chose what subjects they wished to study, and they were guided through a syllabus whilst pursuing their specific interests in the topic.

Harry had avoided the Astronomy Tower when Rowena held her own kind of Divination classes. She’d assured him there was no reading of tea leaves, or that she had no intention of predicting his impending death, but Harry had no desire to find himself under such scrutiny if it could be avoided.

He’d had enough of powers he didn’t understand interfering in his life.

“Good, now relax,” Salazar urged, his voice sounding as though it was coming from far away.

Harry could only shake his head as the boy sitting closest to him decided to obnoxiously break wind at that moment, and he braced himself for Salazar’s admonishment.

“I meant your mind, Mr Gamp,” the man huffed irritably. “If you cannot control your body, you have no hope of controlling your mind. That will be a detention with me tomorrow morning. Five am, sharp!”

“Five am?” Mercutio Gamp groaned.

“Five am,” Salazar confirmed. “I’ll teach you how to control your bodily movements, boy!”

Harry didn’t open his eyes, but it took little imagination to picture the look of disapproval Salazar wore.

“It was worth it,” Mercutio muttered under his breath.

Harry shook his head once more.

“Shut up,” he sighed, fighting the urge to smirk.

Mercutio came from a long family of wizards, and the boys’ surname wasn’t lost on him.

Gamp’s Law.

He remembered Professor McGonagall discussing it as one of the greatest breakthroughs in the study of Transfiguration, though that wouldn’t come for a few centuries yet.

Mercutio was likely one of the Gamp’s great grandfathers, who happened to also be rather exceptional when it came to the art of Transfiguration.

As gifted as he was, however, he had terrible manners, and he took nothing seriously.

Still, he was rather amusing, and Harry had struck up something of a friendship with the rather brash Gryffindor.

“Thinking of the Dane girl?” Mercutio asked.

Harry shook his head once more.

“You are the one who thinks of her,” he murmured. “Either talk to her or shut up.”

“I can’t understand anything she says,” Mercutio huffed. “She’s got nice…”

“Stop,” Harry implored. “Don’t say another word.”

“Hair,” Mercutio replied. “She has nice hair.”

He was going to say something crude. Harry could sense the smug grin the other boy wore.

“Gamp, either shut up or get out!” Salazar barked. “You are disturbing the rest of the group.”

Thankfully, the other boy fell silent and Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he continued to focus on his breathing.

Meditation was not something he’d expected to be part of the curriculum, but Salazar insisted it was a most useful skill to master, especially when it came to the Mind Arts.

Although Harry was capable of resisting the Imperius Curse, the same couldn’t quite be said for keeping someone from intruding into his mind.

He’d had several lessons in Occlumency from Salazar, and though the man praised Harry for his progress, he felt as though little was being made.

“Occlumency is a skill that takes years to master, Harry. I can assure you, you are doing very well for a beginner. It will take time, but you will se the improvement soon enough.”

Harry wasn’t convinced, but it was something he was determined to get better at, just as he was with everything else he was undertaking.

He was still getting used to his new life, and he often lost himself in thought of the one he’d left behind, but he was adjusting.

What else could he do, given the circumstances?

“That is enough for today,” Salazar declared. “Five am, Gamp,” he reminded the boy as he all but fled from the classroom. “Harry, remain behind.”

Mercutio grumbled under his breath as he took his leave of the room along with the other students, and Salazar beckoned for Harry to join him.

“You are doing well,” the man praised, “and you are looking much healthier since you began taking the potions. How do you feel?”

“It’s hard to say when Godric finds a new way to exhaust me every morning,” Harry said with a shrug, “but I think I’m sleeping better.”

Salazar nodded as an amused smirk played at his lips.

“Well, I would say you’ve grown around an inch and gained a little weight, but you’re still not quite there yet. I’m going to take your measurements, and then give you another month’s supply of the potions. We will know when to stop when your progress with them slows down to a natural pattern of growth for someone your age.

Harry nodded and Salazar set about the task of doing so whilst a quill took note of what he said.

“How have you found your time here thus far?” the man asked curiously.

“Hard,” Harry answered honestly. “I’m starting to adjust, but it’s not so easy to just forget everything and everyone I left behind. I know there’s nothing that can be done about it. I suppose it will just take time.”

“As does everything,” Salazar said encouragingly. “Well, form what I have seen, you a settling in well, and Godric is impressed with your dedication. It’s not easy getting a complement from him.”

“Is that why he’s trying to kill me every day?”

“Exactly,” Salazar confirmed. “He’s trying to push you beyond your limits. He wants to see how far he can push you before you break. It is a testament to your character and stubbornness that he has failed, so far.”

“I don’t want to give him the satisfaction,” Harry admitted.

Salazar chuckled as he patted him on the shoulder.

“Don’t,” he urged. “I am quite enjoying seeing him frustrated, and it only proves what he thinks about you.”

“What he thinks about me?”

“That you are a born warrior, Harry,” Salazar said proudly. “There are things that we can teach, and things that people are born with. Despite everything that has happened to you, you have not quit, you have not buckled, and you are proving that you thrive when it comes to those who embody the spirit of a warrior.”

“And there was me hoping I could one sit behind a desk,” Harry mused aloud.

“Would that make you happy? I do not think it would.”

Harry frowned thoughtfully before shaking his head.

Although he’d nearly been killed several times, he couldn’t deny that the thrill of his excursions remained with him. Oddly enough, it was somehow addictive, though he wished it wasn’t.

Perhaps Salazar was right and Harry would never be truly satisfied unless there was an air of danger in all the things he did.

He shook his head irritably at his own thoughts.

“You cannot hide from who you are, Harry. You may have times where you crave a peaceful respite, but it is inside you, just as it is with others. Even Godric struggles to keep himself grounded here instead of gallivanting around the world, looking for another great adventure.”

“Then why doesn’t he?”

“Because he is responsible, in his own way. He truly is among the very best at what he does and he understands how important it is for him to pass on his skills. You will come to understand yourself as you grow, Harry, and that is something we will continue tonight. Eight pm in my office.”

“More Occlumency?”

“Indeed,” Salazar confirmed with a smile. “Do not be so disheartened. You are doing much better than I expected.”

“Tell that to my pounding head,” Harry snorted before he left the room.

He had a lengthy break before he needed to be in the greenhouse with Helga and were it not for the various assignments he’d received from each of his instructors, he might be tempted to take a nap.

Harry shook his head at the thought.

Hermione would likely find his dedication to his studies rather positive, but for Harry, it wasn’t just that he wished to prove himself that inspired him. It was knowing what lie ahead that kept him active.

Although it was seldom mentioned, he couldn’t forget the path he had been set upon, and if he was indeed here to stop Myrddin, there was no doubt that he would need to be as prepared as humanly possible.

(Break)

As had become something of a regular feeling, Myrddin once more found himself frustrated. For the better part of a month since he’d returned to Camelot, he’d done his utmost to glean something from the stars, but they continued to show him nothing but uncertainty.

Still, he continued to consult them in the hope they would yield something of worth, but so far, it was not to be.

During the day, Myrddin was kept busy with his guidance of Arthur in all matters that pertained to the boys’ kingdom. He was learning quickly, but he still relied heavily on others to assist him in making important decisions.

Wisdom was something gained with experience, and Arthur was certainly not lacking in opportunity.

Not a day went by that someone in Camelot didn’t seek his counsel, and Arthur’s judgement was improving with each problem he solved.

Myrddin only wished the same could be true for his own efforts.

Rowena knew something, and had they not been in the confines of Hogwarts with its exceptional protections, he would have gotten the needed information from the woman, but even Myrddin was not foolish enough to provoke such measures.

The Founders had done something unfathomable when they’d built the school, and without considerable, brazen effort, there was so little that could hope to withstand the wrath of the castle.

As much as he wished to peek into the woman’s mind, it would be a dangerous venture to undertake.

Rowena was perhaps the keenest person he’d ever met, and Myrddin certainly did not wish to find himself in a battle of wills against one of his former mentors.

No, as frustrating as it was proving to be, he needed to exercise patience when it came to what the stars had revealed to him.

“Myrddin, one of the scouts has requested your presence in the throne room. He has news.”

“Another attack?” Myrddin asked the maid who had come to fetch him.

“I do not know,” she answered.

Myrddin released a deep sigh before dismissing the girl and taking leave of his quarters.

There were not many forces within the country that could truly pose a threat to the keep.

There was a continuous supply of fresh water, and not a person within the walls would starve.

Myrddin could turn a single kernel of corn into a feast if necessary.

Still, a scout report so soon after Frode had attacked was not a welcome development.

Entering the throne room, he found Arthur listening attentively to the scout, and Myrddin took his spot next to the king.

“So, it is not an army?” Arthur asked the man.

“No, my king,” the scout answered. “They are Britons whose village was torched. They have heard of your kindness and hope to seek refuge within the walls of Camelot.”

Myrddin nodded.

As he’d hoped, word had spread of Arthur’s victory over the Danes, and how well he counselled his people here.

“Torched?” he asked with a frown.

The scout nodded uneasily.

“They say that it was for revenge for the death of Frode and his people,” the scout explained. “The Danes are furious and are travelling the country to burn British villages.”

Myrddin shook his head disapprovingly.

“Barbarians,” he grumbled.

“Who is behind this?”

“They say Cnut, but he has not left Winchester,” the scout explained. “I’m afraid there’s little else I can tell you.”

“Very well,” Myrddin murmured, pondering his next course of action.

He could not simply allow a band of Danes to run amuck across the country in such a manner, not when he had worked so hard to portray Arthur as the one true king of the land.

What kind of king couldn’t keep his subjects safe?

No, it was unacceptable, and Myrddin knew he had to act.

“Shall we let them in?” Arthur asked.

“It is your decision to make,” Myrddin prompted.

Arthur nodded.

“I will,” he decided. “If they are Britons, they are my people. Ensure we have enough food and medical supplies to heal the wounded and sick. We may not be able to house them all, but we have space we can set up additional tents for them.”

Myrddin nodded approvingly.

“I shall see it done,” he assured the boy, “and I will locate this band of rogue Danes. If they were sent by Cnut, we will know soon enough.”

“And if they are?” Arthur asked worriedly.

“I do not know?” Myrddin answered. “We can make a decision on what to do when we have established who they are. They may just be a rogue group claiming to be sent by Cnut. How long until the Britons arrive?”

“They will reach Camelot by morning,” the scout answered.

“Then there is much work to do,” Myrddin declared. “I will assist the household in preparing for their arrival.”

“As will I,” Arthur declared as he stood. “I will greet them at the gates when they arrive.”

Myrddin offered the boy a smile.

Yes, Arthur was learning, and he was proving to be a good king, something the country would need in the coming years.

(Break)

“Before we begin with our Occlumency lesson, I was hoping you could clarify a few points for me,” Salazar said almost reluctantly. “I do not wish for you to continue reliving the night your parents died, but I have a few questions about what you wrote down.”

“Ask away,” Harry replied with a shrug.

Being questioned about what had happened was no worse than the nightmares he’d endured over the years.

Salazar offered him an appreciative nod.

“The first thing I wish to clarify is what your mother said. She pleaded for your life instead of her own. Has anything anyone has said to you given you an indication that Riddle came to primarily kill you and not your parents?”

Harry frowned at the question.

It was not something he’d considered, but now that Salazar mentioned it, it certainly made sense.

Why would Voldemort be so adamant in killing Harry?

‘Stand aside, you silly girl!’

He’d even given his mother the opportunity to step aside so that he could kill Harry instead of her.

He swallowed deeply at the realisation.

“He told her to move out of the way so that he could get to me,” he explained. “He didn’t come to kill my parents. He came to kill me.”

Salazar nodded.

“That is my belief, but I cannot fathom why he would target a babe who was no threat to him. Riddle does not strike me as a man who would act without reason, and certainly not go to such trouble as to find a way around such protections to carry out the deed. No, we are missing something, Harry. Riddle knew something that spurred his actions.”

“Like what?”

“I do not know,” Salazar huffed. “I expect that is something we may never know, but I am certain of one thing. Your mother’s sacrifice, whether willingly or not, created a magical protection that saved you from his curse. It is quite an exceptional feat.”

“Dumbledore said something similar,” Harry mused aloud. “He said that was why Quirrell couldn’t touch me without burning like he did.”

Salazar nodded thoughtfully.

“It is rather powerful, and I suspect, ancient magic. Sacrificial magic is not something that should be played with lightly, but that still doesn’t entirely account for what happened that night. Riddle survived when he should’ve died, and I am struggling to comprehend how that is possible. I do not wish to push you, Harry, but are there any other incidents where you encountered him other than your first year at Hogwarts?”

Harry grimaced at the question as he nodded.

This was not a conversation he was looking forward to having, but if Salazar was going to help him understand all that had happened and what it meant, he knew he needed to share all he could with the man.

“At the end of my second year,” he sighed. “Throughout the year, some students were petrified, and there were messages left claiming that the heir of Slytherin was responsible.”

Salazar frowned unhappily at the explanation and gestured for Harry to continue.

“Well, that was when I discovered I was a Parselmouth…”

“And everyone believed it was you.”

Harry nodded.

“Someone had opened the Chamber of Secrets,” he continued uneasily, “and unleashed the monster within.”

Salazar’s expression shifted from one of confusion to realisation and he gasped.

“Sura,” he whispered.

“You named a basilisk?” Harry scoffed.

Salazar seemed to be positively alarmed and saddened at the same time.

“She’s a sweet little creature,” he murmured. “I rescued her from a group of men hunting her and brought her here where she would be safe. She would never…”

“She did,” Harry grumbled. “Maybe Riddle found a way to get her to do his bidding but when he was at Hogwarts, she killed a student. None died during my time, and come to think of it, it’s nothing short of a miracle.”

Salazar swallowed deeply as he shook his head.

“Continue, Harry,” he urged.

“Well, me and my friends found the entrance to the chamber, and because I could speak parseltongue…”

“You went in.”

“Only because Riddle had kidnapped my friend’s sister. He was using her to open the chamber and set the basilisk free.”

Salazar frowned once more.

“Impossible,” he declared. “If she couldn’t speak parseltongue, she couldn’t open it.”

“I’m getting to that,” Harry assured the man. “I found her down there, and there was a boy with her. He explained that he’d been using Ginny because she’d been writing in a diary that had belonged to him. He said that because she’d opened herself up to him, he was able to take control of her.”

“Possession,” Salazar whispered. “This diary, what happened to it?”

“I stab it with a basilisk fang,” Harry explained. “When I did that, it kind of bled and the younger Riddle vanished, but not before she got me,” he added, rolling up his sleeve. “She got me and I got her at the same time.”

“She bit you and you survived?” Salazar choked in disbelief. “No, that is impossible!”

“Not if you have a phoenix on hand,” Harry chuckled humourlessly.

Salazar had paled considerably and he leaned back in his chair. He stayed silent for several moments as he pondered what he learned.

“I do not know if anyone has told you this, Harry, but you truly are remarkable. A Basilisk venom is fatal in all cases. I expect you are the only person to have survived it.”

“It was a close thing,” Harry whispered, remembering how quickly he’d felt the life draining from him. “Fawkes, the phoenix, saved my life. I suppose that’s what makes my wand feel so special to me. Well, that’s what Godric seems to think.”

“Your wand core comes from the phoenix that saved you?”

“One of his feathers.”

Salazar suddenly stood and began pacing back and forth.

“I will have to think about what you have told me regarding Riddle, his diary, and what he managed to do,” he explained, “but this changes things. If Sura bit you and you managed to kill her, the two of you share an unfathomable bond. Her venom flows through your veins, Harry. Even though it was negated, she is as much a part of you as the phoenix.”

“What does that mean?”

Salazar paused and frowned deeply.

“It means that we can use this to our advantage,” he replied thoughtfully. “Has Godric explained much about the relationship between a wizard and his wand?”

Harry shook his head.

“He’s mentioned it a few times but hasn’t gone into detail. He said he would.”

Salazar hummed.

“Follow me, Harry,” he instructed. “Since you already know of my chamber and how to access it, I suppose it is no longer my secret.”

“You’re taking me down there?” Harry asked, reluctantly standing.

“There is no need to worry,” Salazar assured him. “You will be quite safe with me. Besides, Sura cannot possible be close to the size she was when you met her. A thousand years,” he murmured under his breath. “How big was she?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have been able to get my arms around her, and she could’ve touched the ceiling without any trouble. The fang I pulled out of my arm was around this big,” he added, holding up his hands to show the length of the fang.

Salazar’s eyes widened.

“She must’ve grown to around fifty or sixty feet,” he mused aloud, eyeing the puckered scar on Harry’s right arm. “Come, I am curious to see if my thoughts prove to be correct.”

Harry cautiously followed the man through the corridors of the castle, and his pace unwittingly slowed as they reached the second floor.

He had no desire to face the basilisk again, but as Salazar offered him a pointed look before opening the door to a water closet, he braced himself for the inevitable.

With only a few hissed words, the wash basin shifted, revealing the same hole Harry had plunged himself into less than two years prior, and Salazar gestured for him to enter first.

“After you, Harry,” the man said with a smirk.

Steeling himself once more, Harry climbed into the hole, though he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy the rush of adrenaline as he plummeted into the very depths of the castle.

This time, he did not forget to place a cushioning charm on himself, and his landing was much softer.

Salazar emerged only a moment after him, and Harry noted how much cleaner the outer part of the chamber was.

“Lead the way,” Salazar instructed, falling into step behind Harry and not allowing him to slow down.

Before he was ready, they reached the intricately carved door depicting the several serpents acting as a lock.

“Open,” Harry hissed.

With little fanfare, the snakes moved and the large door creaked as it came undone, and Salazar stepped passed Harry into the room he had painstakingly built.

“We all have our own rooms in the castle,” the man explained. “Neither of us know the location of the others. We felt that it was only right that we had our own sanctuary for ourselves. As you have probably gathered, mine is situated deep under the castle.”

Harry nodded as his gaze flittered around the enormous room.

The stone statues he remembered were present, along with the flowing water, and even the enormous statue at the end of the walkway depicting the man walking by his side.

It was a surreal experience, which only became more so as Salazar gave a final hissed command.

With the mouth having opened, the basilisk that emerged from within the hidden room came forth, and though the creature was not even a quarter of the size of what he’d faced, Sura was still a large snake of around twelve or thirteen feet.

It was odd to see how she greeted Salazar, almost like an excited puppy greeting its owner, and as the man chuckled and pet her head affectionately, Sura leaned into his touch.

“I have brought someone to meet you. He is another speaker, like us.”

Sura looked towards Harry and tasted the air with her tongue, but she didn’t speak.

“She’s rather shy and cautious of people after what happened to her,” Salazar explained. “She will warm up to you. Pet her if you like, she will not bite, but even if she does, it’s not as though it will harm you.”

“It won’t?”

“Phoenix tears,” Salazar sighed. “As much as her venom is inside you, so are they.”

Harry frowned thoughtfully as he reached out a tentative hand.

The basilisk was warm to the touch, and just as she had with Salazar, she preened as he pet her.

“You’re not so bad, are you?” Harry asked.

The basilisk looked at him almost confusedly before turning her attention back to the man who’d rescued her.

“Sura, could you provide me with some of your venom and one of your fangs?”

The snake eyed Salazar for a moment before coughing, depositing a large, yellowing fang onto the floor.

Removing a phial from within his robes, Salazar held it in front of the basilisk, and she clamped down on it, filling the glass with a thick venom Harry had no desire to near.

A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered the feeling of it flowing through his veins as it drained him of his life.

“It is a part of you, Harry,” Salazar comforted. “If you embrace it, it can become one of your greatest weapons. I can show you how, but you must accept it.”

Harry took a calming breath as he took hold of the phial and accepted the fang as it was placed into his other hand.

“What do I do with them?” he asked.

“Take them to Godric,” Salazar instructed. “He will show you what to do. You will not regret it.”

Harry nodded.

He didn’t know what to expect from doing so, and it seemed that Salazar didn’t either. Nonetheless, he would take the man’s advice.

Despite his initial misgivings, Salazar Slytherin had yet to steer him wrong, and Harry was grateful for all the help the man and the other Founders were giving him.

(Break)

She’d never been drawn to the lake since before the storm had hit. She occasionally retrieved fresh water from there, but she’d never paid much heed to the large body of water.

Now, however, Morgana seemed to frequent it often, almost as though something was luring her there. Magic from the storm lingered, but it was not something she could harness.

Morgana had tried and found it to be both untouchable, and overwhelming.

What it was, she didn’t know, but it was not only the ambient magic that brought her there.

She’d spoken with Harry since she’d shown him her home, and she thought perhaps that she may have misread the boy. Maybe he was as judgemental as the others and had merely hidden it rather well.

She knew he was rather busy doing whatever he was at the school, which certainly consisted of Godric’s physically demanding training.

Morgana had seen him a few time before sunrise, either running sprints, carrying heavy loads, and even swimming in the lake, but she’d not interrupted his training.

When he was done, he would amble his way back to the castle, undoubtedly exhausted.

Still, she would venture to the edge of the lake to see if he returned later in the day.

He didn’t seem to anymore, not when she was around at least.

Peering across the surface of the lake, she released a gentle sigh as it began to rain gently, disrupting the still water late in the evening.

With it being a full moon, she knew she should be harvesting ingredients, but her store was already full, and in truth, she didn’t know what else she could use the Moonflowers and Mooncalf blood for.

Her last brew had not gone as intended.

The mixture had spoiled, leaving her frustrated, but Morgana already had another batch bubbling over the fire.

She was determined to get it right, no matter how many attempts it took.

“You know, you’ll catch a cold standing out in this too long.”

She felt a smile crest her lips but she masked it as she turned towards the boy.

“Speak for yourself.”

Harry chuckled as he pointed his wand towards her and Morgana felt a sense of warmth wash over her as she was dried.

“I have some things for you,” Harry announced, removing a small box from within his tunic. “I did say I’d keep an eye out for you.”

Morgana hadn’t expected him to keep his word.

No one else seemed to, and yet, here he was doing so.

“There’s some snake skins in there, some plants I thought you could find some use for, and even some rocks with metal inside it. I don’t know what it is, but it seemed interesting enough.”

Morgana nodded appreciatively.

“Do you come here often late at night?”

Harry shrugged.

“It’s quiet here,” he murmured.

“It is, but you don’t come here much.”

“You do?”

“Sometimes.”

She wasn’t going to admit that she came here most nights and sometimes early in the mornings if she knew he was training.

“Maybe I’ll come more often.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I wouldn’t want you to be alone. I’ll see you again soon.”

Morgana narrowed her eyes at his retreating form, but couldn’t prevent the tugging of the corner of her lips, no matter how much she wanted to.