Chapter 1: Ethelred, the Unready
by Poultrygeist99


Summer 978 A.D. ~ Scotland

Following the murder of his half-brother, Edward II, the Martyr, Ethelred II succeeded to the throne of Scotland. Only ten years old at the time, Ethelred was referred to as Ethelred, the Unready by many of his countrymen. Scotland at this time was plagued by Viking invaders, but had not yet seen the menace of William, the Randy.

The Christian religion was starting to find a foothold, but many still clung to their pagan and druidic roots. Conflicts between members of different religious were common. Druids were beginning to hide themselves as the common folk became less trusting of their magical ways.

Several members of the Druid community banded together to plan for the continued support and education of their young people.


February 984 A.D. ~ Hogsmeade

The wind was howling across the moors. A witch in her early-twenties hurried across the road and into a small tavern. She held her cloak tightly against the wind. Hogsmeade was a small town, barely meriting the label of village. A few small huts huddled together, as if trying to protect one another from the blistering wind. A path leading through the middle of them made a pretense at being a road.

Despite its small size and unpossessing manner, Hogsmeade was remarkably clean for a medieval village. It was as if its inhabitants had some magical means of maintenance rather than relying on the ditches and cesspools so common in other villages of its ilk. There was a faint smell of horses, but it was largely masked by the welcoming scent of cooking fires. Missing was the odor of human waste that would have been expected by any stranger who happened into the village.

As she entered the tavern Helga’s eyes quickly skimmed her surroundings. Most of the faces in the tavern were familiar, some were welcoming as they looked up to see who had joined their number. A stranger in their midst would have been regarded with suspicion and fear. But Helga Hufflepuff was well known and highly regarded in this small, tight community.

Helga’s eyes sparkled in greeting to some of the faces that glanced up, but her gaze was quickly drawn to a table in the corner. Three people sat at this table, engrossed in conversation. Helga hurried to join them.

“Sorry I was delayed,� Helga’s voice was light. “Father was ranting about Ethelred again. It seems that he is planning to attempt to buy off the Danegeld and enlist their support against the other Vikings.�

One of the two men at the table snorted in his ale. He smoothed back his long black hair and shook his head. “Anything he pays them he will have to pay thrice over. As they are leaving with their gold, they will simply toss a new threat over their shoulders in parting.�

The other man sighed, “Salazar, you are ever the skeptic, but I fear you are right in this instance. This Muggle king will run the throne and treasury into the ground rather than take a brave stand against the Vikings.�

Rowena, the other woman at the table replied, “The sooner we get our school up and running the better. These are dark times and I fear for the safety of our youth. Just last week the Muggles caught Gwendolyn and attempted to burn her at the stake.�

“Again?!� answered Helga. “That must be twenty times she’s allowed herself to be caught and burned.�

The conversation paused briefly. Godric caught the eye of the tavern-keeper and signaled for more ale and a fourth mug. Helga caught his eye and motioned that she had brought her own cup with her. She withdrew a small pewter cup from her cloak. The handle was in the shape of a badger. Godric smiled at her with his eyes, but said nothing.

“Helga, we’ve been discussing the plans for the castle,� Rowena started the discussion again. “I’ve been working out a way to disguise the size of it. Should the Vikings come our way I don’t want our castle to be a temptation to them. Look here,� Rowena motioned to a roll of parchment spread out on the table. “I’ve found a way for the staircases to move, so the floor plan can shift slightly to accommodate our needs.�

Helga studied the parchment. “That’s brilliant,� she said. “What’s this?�

Godric leaned forward to study the parchment with the two women. “Oh,� he replied, “That’s the entrance to the staff quarters. We were thinking that we might need some privacy from the students.�

“Have you designed the library yet?� asked Helga. “I’ve been thinking how to make it an inviting place for our students to study. I think we should have tables set up just so, and a row of bookshelves along the wall here.� She paused, then switched tracks, “Oh, and Nicholas sent me an owl this morning. He has procured three books in Constantinople to help us start our collection.�

The dialogue proceeded as the four friends discussed the plans for their school. Several hours and many jugs of ale later they finally started to wane. Godric kicked back his chair and stretched. Helga masked a blush as she noticed the way he stretched his hands with the rest of his body. His hands appeared as strong and capable as the rest of his body. Ready for hard work, but capable of amazing feats of dexterity and grace.

Salazar noticed Helga’s look, but quickly averted his eyes. “Rowena, may I see that plot for dungeons again?�

Rowena shuffled through the parchment littering the table and pulled one out. She and Salazar bent over it, their conversation hushed. Across the room, a bard unsheathed his lute and began to play:

Sumer is i-cumin in,
Lhude sing, cuccu!
Groweth sed and bloweth med
And springth the wude nu.
Sing, cuccu!

Godric stood and offered his hand to Helga. She took his hand, stood, and shook out her skirts. They moved toward the center of the room and began to dance. Helga joined in the singing:

Sing, cuccu, nu. Sing, cuccu.
Sing, cuccu, nu. Sing, cuccu.

Godric pulled Helga a bit closer and sang so only she could hear:

Aw bleteth after lamb,
Lhouth after calve cu,
Bulluc sterteth, bucke verteth,
Murie sing, cuccu!

Back at the table Salazar glanced up to see his friends making fools of themselves. He leaned closer to Rowena, smiled and whispered, “I suspect there will be a wedding ‘ere long.�

Rowena giggled and replied, “Her father will be relieved. He indulges her studies, but ‘tis no secret he would rather see her wedded and bedded than spending her life teaching other people’s children.�

“Indeed, she does favour the stupidest of all children, doesn’t she!� Salazar stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Your shifting floor plan gives me an idea. Even with the private teachers’ quarters methinks these two shall require a special room. Perhaps we could plan it as a wedding present.�

Rowena bent back to the parchment on the table. “How about here? We could hide the door and enchant it so that it can only be found when they are truly in need.�

Salazar bent in to see where his friend was pointing. “That looks perfect. A bit out of the way, but not so far out of the way that we’ll never remember where it is.� He sipped his ale as he continued to study the parchment. “Let us place enchantments on the room so that the room will provide whatever comforts they may find themselves in need of.�

Rowena blushed prettily and glanced away. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?�

Cuccu, cuccu,
Wel singes thu, cuccu.
Ne swik thu naver nu!

Sing, cuccu, nu. Sing, cuccu.

Chapter 2: House Management
Written by: Starmaiden, mikilater, Magical Maeve, and HermyRox12
Edited by: Poultrygeist 99

Anyone who'd met the four separately would have been confused as to why they were friends. True, they were all of noble class, yet it wasn't blood that kept them together. It was that they could be different and yet still love each other all the same that kept them whole. Four more different people, one could scarcely hope to meet!

Godric was an optimistic man and virtually fearless. This was not, as far as Rowena was concerned, a good habit; it tended to make him slightly reckless. But though he came off at times as slightly thick, perhaps because of his single-minded chivalry, he was a good man with a quick wit. He would teach the students magical defense.

Helga was the youngest of them. She was almost as optimistic as Godric, and had a heart of gold. She had thought of the school, where magical children could learn all they would need for their futures. Normally, children were educated in the home. In Helga’s dream school, the children would bond with each other and learn a great deal more than their parents could teach them. They would also be able to practice their skills in an environment safe from prying Muggle eyes.

Rowena watched as Godric pulled Helga a little closer, impossible though that seemed. Yes, they would do well together. Rowena was different. While Godric and Helga reached toward the goal of a safe, happy life together, Rowena thirsted for learning. It was her goal in life to learn everything she could. She believed herself to be the pragmatic one of the group. She had suggested a house administrated by each of them, to ease the burden of numbers. She also hoped the separate houses would help them foster the unique talents of different children.

A movement on the table caught Rowena’s eye as Salazar shifted the parchment. Salazar was the oldest, though he was not a decade older than Helga. He was cynical, which balanced Godric well. He had leaped on the idea of the school – a place for magical children to reach their full potential away from the detestable Muggles. He was also the one with the practical knowledge to build the school, having spurned “the swaggering bravado that is knighthood� in favor of intensive scholarship.

Her attraction to the man puzzled Rowena. He was handsome, to be sure, and talented, but he was not particularly suave or social. He neither pursued nor hated women (or other men). The real pull, she supposed, was his strange mystique. He never seemed as open as the others.

Yet somehow it seemed to work. Salazar would build the school, Rowena would administer it, Helga would coax the families to let the children attend, and Godric would hold them together with his humor and hope.

Godric led Helga back to the others, gazing into her eyes so that he bumped into the table instead of sitting down. Rowena’s goblet teetered and fell, spilling ale over her lap. “A fat hog’s warts! Godric, please be careful.�

Godric looked up sharply. “What did you say?�

“I said, please be –�

“You said, ‘A fat hog’s warts.’�

“And?�

Helga’s eyes clouded over as they always did when she thought. “A fat hog’s warts…a hog’s …Hogwarts?�

Salazar snorted. “That’s preposterous. Who would send their children to ‘Hogwarts’?�

Rowena smiled. “What better to confuse the Muggles?�

The wheels under the black hair turned: preposterous versus an anti-Muggle device? Finally, Salazar nodded grudgingly. “True. Hogwarts it is, then!�

Helga smiled and regarded her friends fondly. She mused to herself, These are my closest friends: Rowena, Salazar, and Godric. But something is changing; I can feel it in the air. Maybe it is the prospect of the new school, or maybe it is the dance that Godric and I had just shared. Helga’s eyes twinkled as she remembered Godric singing in her ear.

Salazar rustled the parchment again and returned Helga to her reflection. All I know is that something is going to change, be it tonight or in a hundred years. I can feel it in my bones. Something great is happening here, something I just can’t describe. Maybe I'll ask Rowena later, she is always better at finding the right words than I am. For now I'll let it lie.

"How are we to sort them," Rowena queried, "We are going to divide them equally, but how do we choose?" Godric, proud as ever spoke first.

"I'll take the bravest, the bold will be my pupils!" He boasted.

"Hopefully they won’t develop his big head," Salazar joked to Rowena. She smiled lightly as Godric shot him a dirty look.

"That was uncalled for," Godric muttered darkly, his pride injured.

"Pluck up, I was only joking!" Salazar exclaimed smacking him on the arm.

“I’ll take the Smart, witty, and creative of the bunch.� Rowena announced to the group.

“Well, the cunning and sly will go to me. Maybe they’ll inherit my ability to skim the cream off the top of every situation,� Salazar said.

“Cream?� Helga teased. “You could curdle cream with that tongue of yours!�

“Anyway, I’ll take the hard working and loyal. Talent isn’t everything! If a child is willing to work and try their best, I’ll take them.� Helga informed her friends. What's with the houses anyway? They are all equal, aren't they? I guess it is to keep them in line, she thought to herself.

Salazar withdrew into himself, musing over what had been suggested so far. Frivolities, these names and divisions. What really mattered, he mused as he swirled the sediment of his scrumpy, was that they provide an excellent education for wizards, and wizards only. He eyed Godric, so jovial, so at ease with people, and for a moment wished that he shared these attributes. But no, Salazar Slytherin was above such niceties. His friendship with these people was a matter of need rather than want. He was as clever, as political, as the men currently arguing over the future of the Muggle lands, and he knew he needed to be a part of this school, rather than an outsider looking to invade. And Salazar was already forming a plan, a security against what must surely go wrong.

Gryffindor, along with that fool Helga, would undoubtedly insist that those of mixed blood should enter the school. And he, Salazar Slytherin, would undoubtedly have to put the case against such watering down. He eyed Rowena, her hair framing a fine face, an intelligent face. Just where did her sympathies reside? Could it be that she would be persuaded to join him?

But no matter. If she did or did not, Salazar was already seeing his Chamber in his mind’s eye: deep, buried, earth-bound, a vaulted ceiling, a sealed entrance, permanence. He had been working with a Moorish wizard who knew how to obtain a Basilisk egg; what better guardian, what more effective security did one need?

He looked again at Rowena, and he saw the faint blush on her cheeks. Attractive, of that there was no doubt. His Chamber would need an heir, a bloodline that would carry his ideals. Would Rowena provide that heir? He allowed himself the luxury of this thought for a moment, watching as she turned away, that dark hair sweeping down and covering her hand. Salazar knew things must be set in motion. As the one who had charge of the building, it would be a trifle to place his Chamber there. No one need ever know of its existence, until the time was right.

He had followers, and he had allies on foreign shores. He had recently spent some time in the Harz mountains, learning the ways of the Knights of Walpurgis. They would be come to his side if he needed to take more vigorous action to pursue his ideals.

Salazar smiled to himself. Surely he was moving too quickly. There was still a chance that he could parley his way to what he wanted. And if he could not? He would burn that bridge when it came to it.

Rowena and Salazar had been good friends for a while. What’s wrong with taking a step further? He went up to Rowena and asked her what personal touch she would add to the school.

“Well, as you all know, I have a great love of art. It brings out the creativity of everyone. We should have paintings galore in the castle. Ones of Hogs, and people with warts, and of all the headmasters and headmistresses, when the time comes for us to pass away.� Rowena said.

Chapter 3: Harlan Hufflepuff
Written by: Hamstergeist, joanna, wishiwereaweasley, Slian Martreb, Chaser74
Edited by: Poultrygeist99



“Father, I’m home!� Helga called to her father as she entered their small cottage. She looked around. It was very quiet and the fire in the hearth had burned down to nearly nothing. Helga’s father was no where to be seen. “Father?� He did not answer.

She hurried out the door and ran around to the back of the cottage. “Father?� she called, increasingly anxiously.

Helga continued to look for her father. She found his horse, standing next to the water trough, huddled against the wind, reins dragging on the ground.

Helga stopped in her tracks. She took out her wand, balanced it on her index finger and watched as it spun and stopped. She looked up, and ran in the direction it pointed.

As Helga hurried past the rabbit hutch Godric appeared around the corner of the cottage.

“I thought I’d stop and chat with your…� His words trailed off as he noticed the worry in Helga’s eyes. “Is something the matter?� he asked.

“Father,� she said quietly, then continued following the path indicated by her wand.

Godric followed.

The sight that greeted them took Helga’s breath away and made Godric draw his sword. He quickly pushed Helga behind his back and then inched their way towards the weeping willow. He thought that its trunk would provide them enough cover until he assessed the situation.

Harlan Hufflepuff was facing four men armed to the teeth. One of them was clearly the leader; he was not only dressed in finer clothes than the others, his weapons also marked him as someone of high status. His armor was made of some kind of hide and he wore a helmet with a spectacles-like visor. Godric simply had to admire his weapons. His sword was in the scabbard, but the scabbard itself was a work of skilful hands. The wooden cover was leather-bound and decorated with foreign-looking ornaments. The Viking—because in the meantime Godric had come to the conclusion that they must be Norse raiders—also had a long-handled battle axe on the back. But his spear was in his hands and its blade was touching Harlan’s throat.

“We have to help him,� Helga whispered into his ear, and Godric nodded in agreement.

“Just trust me,� he whispered back, and as a response, he felt her hand slip into his. She squeezed his hand and then let go of him.

Godric observed the rest of the little group. Two of them bore spears and one was armed with a bow and arrows. It would certainly be quite simple to stun them with a spell, but Godric wasn’t sure whether they were alone. Vikings rarely traveled this far inland in such small groups.

If these Vikings followed the pattern of others Godric had encountered, others were waiting for their leader somewhere nearby. Were they plotting to attack the village with its residents oblivious to their presence? No, he couldn't risk that. Of course, the wizards and witches in Hogsmeade were capable of defending themselves, but Godric was not ready to risk his neighbours’ lives if he knew the means to thwart the assault.

Helga crouched behind the willow, sheltered by its weeping boughs. Her long braid was in her hand and she was plaiting and unplaiting it as she waited for Godric to do whatever he was going to do. She trusted him completely, but hated that he forced her to wait in the background. It wasn’t that she was aching to go into battle, it was that she wanted to be treated as an equal. Didn’t everyone deserve that? That was such a huge part of why she wanted to start the school. She wanted all magical children to have the same opportunity to be educated.

Helga was jerked out of her reverie by a loud explosion. She jumped up and ran to the edge of the tree, peering frantically between the drooping, leafy branches, trying to see what was going on. Her vision was obscured by a large cloud of odd, greenish smoke; she couldn’t see either her father or Godric. What on earth had he done? Calling out to them, she received no response. Slightly panicked, Helga decided to go for help.

Closing her eyes and forcing herself to relax, she focused her whole energy on Rowena’s small cottage. It had become like a second home to her, and the image of its blue door and ivy covered front with blue shutters peeking out was soothing. When she was confident that she had an accurate picture in her mind’s eye, Helga spun on her heel and Apparated, arriving outside on the doorstep. Catching her balance, she pounded on the door.

“Rowena! Rowena? Help!� Barely a second had passed before the door was flung open. Rowena and Salazar stood before her, the former with an expression of concern and shock, the latter looking inquisitive and perhaps a touch worried. Helga breathed a sigh of relief. Here were her loyal friends. Here were safety and love. Here was help.

“Helga? What’s wrong?� Rowena asked, taking a step forward to usher the younger woman past the threshold, into the warmth of her home.

“My father. Godric,� Helga answered, turning to the support offered by her friend. “Vikings–they have him. Godric– he stayed. There was an explosion,� she continued, panic in her eyes as her words become stunted, rushed. “I didn’t–I left–I didn’t know–�

“Calm yourself,� Salazar commanded, his voice confident as he drew his wand. “It is nothing some magic can’t handle.�

“But–�

“Helga,� Salazar said, “all will be well. Nary a hair on your father’s head to come to harm, aye?�

“I shall go with him,� Rowena declared, releasing her. “And I will make sure that that foolish Gryffindor doesn’t kill himself, either.�

Helga laughed, sniffling and then suddenly flung her arms around Rowena and Salazar, both.

“Oh! What did I do to deserve such friends as you!� she exclaimed.

“Such friends,� Rowena clucked her tongue. “Friends who would not help one another are not true friends. Come,� she said. “Let us go.�

They arrived at the edge of the property moments later. Smoke hovered over the open pasture, clinging like a thick fog despite the brisk wind. Broken branches covered the ground. In the haze of magic that filled the air was Godric, valiantly fighting four blonde-haired men.

Invaders.

Vikings.

Salazar eyed them with distrust and distaste, these men who were clearly not native to Scotland. Without thought he yelled, rushing into the battle and raising his wand, sparks of power shooting from the tip as he thought, wished, pain upon those who have come to harm his own. He yelled again loudly, a battle cry learned from the Knights of Walpurgis, as he ducked sword-blows aimed at his head. On his right, Godric’s own ruby-hilted sword glinted in the sunlight, nearly blinding him. A battle-axe missed him by a mere hairsbreadth. Salazar dropped to the ground with a hiss, rolling to the side and safety.

Rowena watched the battle-axe swooping toward Salazar. From her perspective, it looked as though he might have taken a hit as he fell close to the ground, rolling to safety with a hiss.

Unexpectedly, a serpent rose from the earth, large and black and angry, pink tongue darting out to taste the air as both Salazar and his enemy froze. Rowena watched as it wove through the air, swaying, undulating its way closer to where Salazar lay on the green ground. He did not blink as his hand extended to stroke the snake’s head before he hissed again, seeming with purpose now. And then…

Salazar observed the creature tasting his words in the air before it turned to the invader, thin lips pulled back in threat, showing venomous fangs. The enemy eyed the snake warily and took a quick step backward.

A mistake.

The snake struck, sinking teeth in the man’s heel. A scream rose from the man’s throat as poison filled his blood, striking at every nerve in his body.

Godric stopped fighting the other men. There was no longer any need. The snake all but pounced at them, poison dripping from its fangs. In moments, the four men lay dead on the ground, twitching slightly.

“We,� Godric said slowly, addressing Salazar while eyeing the snake warily, “need to talk.�

Helga stared at the bodies of the dead men, their eyes glazed over from the venom of the snake. The sight of them made her feel faint. She hadn’t meant for anyone to die! But she steadied herself; there were more important things to do than pity assassins. Slipping past Godric and Salazar, who seemed to be in close conversation, she ran quickly to her father. He was huddled up by a tree, his slight frame seeming suddenly old and frail to Helga. “Papa!� she cried, falling to her knees and taking his hand in her own.

“Daughter,� he said, voice wavering slightly. “How glad I am to see you. Your friends, they saved me. They helped…� The way his voice trailed off mid-sentence worried Helga. He was not well.

“Papa, are you feeling all right? Perhaps it would be better if you sat down.� He nodded his agreement, and allowed Helga to help him take a seat on the soft grass beneath the tree.

“Thank you, darling. You are so kind.� Helga smiled at him, noticing that new creases had formed in his weathered face. His eyes were burdened with worry.

“Papa, why were those men after you?� asked Helga, unable to squelch her curiosity. The question set off a most unexpected reaction in him.

“The Cup, Helga, you must burn the Cup! It must be destroyed, burned, blasted! Just rid yourself of it! Rid the world of it; it must go!� His ramblings were frenzied, his eyes tortured. It scared Helga.

“What cup, Papa?� she asked, willing to do anything to comfort him.

“The Cup…� was all he could choke out before his eyes rolled back into his head, and he crumpled to the ground, passed out. Helga screamed in surprise.

“Papa! Oh please, Papa, wake up!�