Chapter 19- The Four Founders
The first thing about the book that struck Harry as odd was the surprisingly good shape it was in. It smelled slightly like dust and mothballs but the pages were as crisp and white as if it had been bound yesterday. He realized there were probably special preparations and spells wizards could use to keep books in good condition. Each page was filled with black, spidery words that looked more like the characters Hermione would study in Ancient Runes than anything Harry had ever seen before. He continued flipping the pages until he came to the beginning. A series of numbers were written at the top. Harry assumed they were the date, though he couldn’t make any sense of them.
Squinting, Harry tried to read the first line. It wasn’t easy. The archaic letters slanted in a strange way and the words had many alterations he had never seen before”giant lower case “f’s” instead of “S’s and “V” instead of “U”. Trying his best he mouthed the words out loud.
“Sum…Summer…S…Sol...Solstice, Jour…Journey…ing?...Journeyed…to…olde Elmff…Elm’s Hollowe for…rendevous with…G…Godric Gryffindor.”
Dumbledore was right; it was hard to read. The words came slow and with effort. “Dis…discuss…for, formation…of new school. Gryffindor…Madame Huff…Hufflepuff, Salazar Slytherin, and…” Harry’s pulse quickened as he read the names of the founders. He was reading Rowena Ravenclaw’s diary. They had been real people. It was like stepping out of reality into some sort of story, a fairy tale. Excitedly he continued reading.
“…and my…myself had had dis…discussions re…regarding the…necessity of training and qual…qualifying young witches and wizards in the…magical arts.” The words began to come quicker, though Harry was concentrating so hard he barely even noticed. “The magical com…munity is prospering after the end of the Goblin War, and we realize there is no one to mold and shape the minds of our youth. There are also those among us who have embarked on the despicable pastime of using their powers to abuse the Ungifted Ones. Because of this, Godric has requested that we meet at his manor in Elm’s Hollow to…”
Startled, Harry jumped back in his chair. The words he had been reading so painstakingly just a minute ago were now literally flying across the page. They seemed to be traveling on their own accord, passing from the right page of the book, over the spine, onto the left page and disappearing at the edge. Strangely enough, he was catching every one of them even though he had stopped reading. It was as though a voice in his mind was reading them out loud.
“…discuss the finalization of our plans and agree on a location for the school. It was on this errand that I apparated to the outskirts of Elm’s Hollow and made my way to Godric’s manor…”
Pictures began to appear in Harry’s mind. A bright, shining sun. Tall green trees waving in the breeze. A brilliant blue sky…
The images sprouted up out of nowhere as the voice in his head continued to read. It was as though the words were projecting themselves into his mind as pictures, actually showing him what was happening rather than just telling. The light from the sun in his mind grew brighter. The blue sky seemed to flood the darkness of the Headmaster’s Vault, pervading every murky corner with a pure, vibrant blue. The sun grew brighter still. Now it was shining brilliantly above him, blocking out everything else. Now he was no longer picturing it in his mind but looking at it, seeing it with his own eyes…
He was walking through Elm’s Hollow on his way towards the manor of Godric Gryffindor, famous wizard and goblin fighter. Harry wasn’t sure how he knew this, but it was indelibly written in his mind and he knew it was true. It was a beautiful summer day, emerald green trees waving gently in the wind. A crystalline blue body of water stretched out to his left, reminding him vaguely of Hogwarts Lake. Small, rocky hills stretched out to his right, a number of small buildings nestled in their valleys. He walked on.
It felt like a dream. The colors were so vibrant, so real, so clean. His legs seemed to be moving of their own accord with no effort from him. Soon an older man with a long beard and wearing a dirty smock came into view. He was working in a large garden in front of a hovel, harrowing up the soil with some sort of primitive looking plow. As Harry passed the man looked up and smiled, then gave a deep bow. “Welcome to our village, your Greatness.” Harry felt his head nod slightly in recognition. He continued walking.
As he walked Harry slowly became aware that, unlike his experience in Tom Riddle’s diary and in the penseives, he was unable to control where he went. The scenery continued to pass by him as though he were on some sort of set track. He tried to turn his head to the left, expecting to see Ravenclaw walking next to him. To his surprise, however, his head wouldn’t move. Confused, he tried to move his head anywhere, to the dirt road beneath him or to the pristine blue lake off to the left. Nothing. It was as if he were wearing a stiff neck-brace, forcing him to stare straight ahead. He couldn’t even see Ravenclaw. Then it hit him”the old man bowing, the steady walk he couldn’t control”he was Ravenclaw.
Apparently the most studious of the founders had enchanted her diary to show the reader exactly what she had seen and experienced herself. Unlike the pensieves or Riddle’s diary he wasn’t free to roam about as he wished. The sensation was a bit difficult to get used to. it reminded him of walking around with Aunt Petunia as a young child. Every time he had stopped to inspect something or play, she would yank him by the arm and force him to keep moving. It took a while to get used to the feeling.
Resolving himself that there was nothing else he could do, Harry relaxed and watched the world go by. The buildings became bigger and more frequent. They passed a few more people on their way, each of whom greeted Harry (or more accurately, Ravenclaw) warmly and with a tone of reverence. Many of the villagers were obviously wizards and witches, but he was pretty sure quite a few of them had been muggles. The thing that really caught his attention was how happy everyone seemed to be. They were all busy doing something or other, but each stopped to exchange a few pleasant words when Ravenclaw passed. Apparently she was well known in Elm’s Hollow. Most surprising was when they rounded a small bend in the road and crossed paths with a Centaur. He had long, dark brown hair and regarded Harry with the usual majestic, far-off look of his kind, as though he were peering into some distant realm. The Centaur nodded at him, then moved on.
After a short time Ravenclaw’s steps took them off the road and up a gentle slope. At the top of a small hill that overlooked the village stood a rugged, stone, two story house that looked almost like a small castle. It was probably not much bigger than an average, modern-day English house, but it was obviously the largest and most important building in the village. In the front was a neatly kept garden in which a brown haired girl was working. She looked up and smiled shyly, then went back to work. As they approached the wide, polished wooden door Harry noticed a stationary suit of armor standing just to the right of the entryway. The armor was black as soot and didn’t look like any suit of armor Harry had ever seen. As they arrived at the door the suit of armor turned its head with a creak and looked straight at them.
“Ahhh, Mistress Ravenclaw, welcome, welcome. Godric is expecting you. Please, go to the den,” it said in a hollow yet friendly voice that seemed out of place for a rusty old suit of armor.
Harry felt his field of vision dip slightly, telling him that Ravenclaw had nodded in acknowledgment. Her slender, pale arm reached out in front of him as if it had been his own and pushed gently on the wooden door. It creaked open and they stepped inside.
Harry’s first glimpse of the inside of Gryffindor manor was of a giant red tapestry hanging on the wall opposite him. On closer inspection he realized it was the Gryffindor family crest”a shield with a lion’s head on it and two wands crossing behind. The house was made of stone and wood and had a cozy feel to it, even if it was slightly messy. He didn’t get a chance to see too much of it however, as Ravenclaw swept purposefully along, obviously familiar with the layout of the house. After a short walk down a hallway and a couple turns they came to a large, oaken door that was partially open. Voices could be heard behind it.
Without knocking Ravenclaw slipped silently through the doorway and into the room. It was a large, rectangular room with a wooden floor and had a feeling of comfort. A large fireplace stood against the far wall with two cozy chairs facing it. The wall nearest to the door had been made into one large bookshelf and was covered with old, interesting books of differing colors and sizes. The wall opposite the door had four large windows that gave a wonderful view of the lake. The other walls were covered with various tapestries and artifacts. In the center of the room stood a round, oaken table where a tall, wizard and a plump little witch sat and conversed. The two seemed to be in the middle of an interesting, humorous conversation.
“…then I told the poor fellow to sit in the bucket of goat’s milk, close one eye, say the name of his goat backwards three times,” the plump witch was saying excitedly to the wizard, “and told the family that if they looked directly at the moon and said the words, ‘Kikkle backackle mcdoogan,’ then the magic would work and the man would be cured of the Red Plague, tee hee hee!” The plump witch had a silly, mischevious giggle.
“Ha Ha Ha!” boomed the tall wizard. “Where do you come up with such splendid nonsense, Helga?” he cried merrily, slapping his knee.
“So then, while the whole lot of them were distracted, I took out my wand, cast a simple healing charm, and just like that,” she snapped her fingers, “the dear man was cured.”
“What did he do when he found out?” asked the wizard anxiously, a look of incredulous mirth on his face.
“That’s the best part! Once he saw the disease was gone the dear man toppled over sideways in the bucket, scrambled over to where his goat was tied, hugged it as if it were his first born child, and cried, ‘Forgive me, Penelope, forgive me! I’ll never beat thee again!’ Tee Hee Hee!”
“AH HA HA HA!” the wizard burst out in a laugh that made the entire room vibrate. It was a rich, contagious laugh that made you want to join in, even if you didn’t know what you were laughing about.
“Oh Helga, you truly are a rare one!” he roared with mirth while looking at her with admiration. “Sitting naked in a barrel of goats milk and saying a goat’s name backwards! I don’t know how your mind conjures such ridiculousness but it’s brilliant!”
“I wouldn’t encourage her so, Godric,” came a clear, even, female voice. It surprised Harry at first, as he had thought the plump witch had been the only female in the room. Then he realized there was another. It was the voice of Rowena Ravenclaw.
The plump witch and the taller wizard looked up in surprise.
“Just a week ago I traveled through Nottingham and overheard an elderly Ungifted One swearing on his mother’s grave that sitting in a barrel of eel eyeballs and rubbing the severed foot of a hare would cure the plague,” she said in a calm, monotone voice. The plump witch and the tall wizard, who Harry now realized were Helga Hufflepuff and Godric Gryffindor, laughed as they rose from the table.
“Ah Rowena! We didn’t hear you come in,” Godric Gryffindor said as he walked towards Harry. “Welcome, welcome! It is marvelous to see you again!” He took Harry’s (actually Ravenclaw’s) pale white hand in his and kissed it gallantly. It was a very odd feeling.
“Welcome back to Elm’s Hollow. I trust we find you well?” he asked.
Godric Gryffindor looked much like Harry had expected. He was a little taller than the average wizard and had a mane of golden hair that arced back from his forehead and fell along his shoulders. There were a few streaks of gray in the mane, which, along with the beginning of a number of wrinkles on his tan face, told Harry that the bravest of the founders was in the latter end of middle age. His face was handsome despite a few scars, probably souvenirs from past battles. His piercing brown eyes radiated energy, power, and compassion all at once, and as he looked into Harry’s eyes (or rather, Ravenclaw’s eyes) Harry could tell he was a man of great strength.
“Very well, thank you Godric. And welcome back from the wars,” came the clear, even voice.
Gryffindor gave a warm smile and bowed, then stepped back to let Helga Hufflepuff through.
“Madame Hufflepuff, so good to see you,” said Ravenclaw in a warm tone. The two women clasped arms and embraced.
“Dear Rowena, how marvelous to see you again,” Hufflepuff said with a caring look. “Such a long time traveling, it’s a wonder we didn’t lose you completely! How are you?”
Helga Hufflepuff was a short, plump witch with a homely face and a wart on her nose. Her hair was brown and frazzled underneath her pointed hat. While she wasn’t especially attractive, there was a kindness and genuineness in her face that Harry was immediately drawn to. This was definitely a person who cared about those around her. She gazed into his eyes, or rather, Ravenclaw’s eyes, with a look of motherly concern.
“I am fine. Thank you for your concern,” replied Ravenclaw.
“Please, take a seat,” Gryffindor said jovially as he pulled out a chair for Ravenclaw. “What will you have, Ale? Wine?” he asked. Harry noticed a large stein filled with an amber liquid on the table where Gryffindor had been sitting and a smaller glass of a strange, milky white substance in front of Hufflepuff.
“Wine. Yes. Thank you,” Ravenclaw said simply as she took a seat.
Gryffindor flicked his wand and a slender, elegant wine glass filled with a rich red liquid appeared on the table.
“As you must have heard, Helga was just telling me of her latest adventure among the Ungifted Ones,” he said as he went back to his seat. “I tell you, the stories her shrewd mind will come up with just to be able to assist them are nothing short of roguish debauchery!”
“Yes, yes, I’ve encountered some of Madam Hufflepuff’s, erm…patients. I’m afraid her charity is starting a veritable wild-fire of absurdity and superstition among the Ungifted Ones, who now believe that standing in barrels full of various animal fluids will cure anything from the plague to a common toothache.”
Gryffindor laughed again. Helga Hufflepuff smiled as shook her head. “Alas, it’s what you must do in order to help them. They are so dreadfully distrustful of magic! At least, magic that comes from a fat little witch waving a stick about. But tell them that there’s magic in standing in a barrel of toad’s eyes or drinking milk out of a leather glove and they’ll stumble over each other trying to race to the nearest cow,” she finished with a motherly shake of her head.
“Yes, the Ungifted Ones have a strange tendency to trust in ridiculous superstitions while distrusting and scorning real magic. It is one of their more amusing traits.” came Ravenclaw’s cool, unmoving voice as she held the glass of red wine and delicately raised it to Harry’s lips.
Gryffindor nodded in agreement. “Most definitely, bless them. Yet I hope to see the day where we can live side by side with them rather than in all this accursed secrecy. Honestly, you would think we were afraid of them, the way we run about trying to hide our power!”
Helga chuckled. “Listen to him. Three years out fighting the goblins and now he wants to come back and change the world. You’re a rare one Godric.”
“Well, war does a lot to change a person,” Godric Gryffindor rejoined. He was about to elaborate when they heard the sound of approaching footsteps. The three founders turned to face a tall, slender man wearing fine silver standing in the doorway. Harry recognized him at once.
Salazar Slytherin.
Of all the founders, Slytherin was the one Harry had been most anxious to see in person. Ever since his first year at Hogwarts he had come to associate the name ‘Slytherin’ with everything underhanded, devious, and evil in the magical world. Malfoy. Snape. The Death-Eaters. The wizard war. Voldemort himself. They all had one thing in common: The man standing in the doorway. Salazar Slytherin.
He walked towards the table where the other founders were sitting. His hair was black with a few streaks of gray and hung down to his shoulders. He was slender but muscular and moved with a casual elegance that reminded Harry of a snake moving quickly and silently through grass. His face was long and gaunt and he had a grey beard with a long, drooping mustache. His eyes were gray and penetrating and bespoke of a keen intelligence. Harry would have guessed he was slightly older than the rest of the founders, though not having seen Ravenclaw yet it was hard to say. Perhaps what surprised him the most, however, was the large, congenial smile on his face that made him look almost…well…friendly.
“Greetings, everyone. I apologize for my tardiness.”
Ravenclaw was the first to welcome him. Harry’s field of vision rose as she stood and turned to face him. He braced himself for another hand kiss, but instead Slytherin stopped a step or two in front of Ravenclaw and gave a deep bow.
“Mistress Ravenclaw! Back from your travels I see. And with a veritable treasure trove of newly acquired knowledge, no doubt! It is marvelous to see you again.”
“And you, Master Slytherin,” said Ravenclaw’s voice as Harry felt himself curtsey (a feeling even more odd than Gryffindor kissing his hand).
“And Madame Hufflepuff, you are as charming as ever,” he said as he stepped towards the other side of the table and kissed her hand. Hufflepuff giggled and blushed slightly. “When we have the chance you must tell me more about your recent healing exploits among the Ungifteds. I hear liver of toad has extraordinary medicinal value in regards to curing the gout,” he looked at her slyly and gave a charming, crooked smile. Hufflepuff giggled again and waved her hand dismissively at him. “All in good time, Slytherin, you devil.”
Harry watched, somewhat surprised with the way Slytherin interacted with Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff. He had always pictured him as a mean, conceited old man, kind of like an older, more talented Lucius Malfoy. But this Slytherin was witty and friendly, even likable. After shooting a last smile at Hufflepuff, he stood and his eyes made contact with the remaining founder, Godric Gryffindor.
Harry felt himself tense up, ready for some type of encounter. It was unreal to think that he was watching Gryffindor and Slytherin meet. Unreal to think that they were in the same room together. Six years of rivalry and inter-house feuding flared up in Harry, as though he expected Gryffindor to punch his sly face or jinx him into the ground. Harry was ready for anything. Anything except what happened next.
The two embraced.
“Salazar, Salazar! My friend. It has been too long! How are you, old viper?” Gryffindor said merrily as he hugged the more slender frame of Slytherin. Slytherin returned the hug.
“I am fine, my old friend, though I think I shall be better if you were to release me from your customary crushing embrace.”
With a laugh Gryffindor released him. It was obvious from the way that each of the founders greeted one another that they had been friends, but none of them greeted each other with as much enthusiasm as Gryffindor and Slytherin had. Harry couldn’t believe it. He had heard once that the two had been friends, but actually seeing it was unbelievable.
“Please, sit down, sit down. Let me guess, Irish Dragon Whiskey?” Gryffindor asked. “Naturally,” came Slytherin’s reply as he sat between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. With a flick of his wand Gryffindor summoned a tall, slender glass filled with a yellow liquid.
“Well first, allow me to welcome you back from the Goblin Wars, Godric. I trust this means that the dirty brutes have been sufficiently routed?” Slytherin asked in an airy, half-serious tone.
Gryffindor gave an amused laugh. “Indeed, though I think ‘escorted back to their own lands’ is a more fitting description of what happened, Salazar. And you’d be pleasantly surprised with how civilized those ‘dirty brutes’ can be.”
“Is that so? I was under the impression that all they cared about was gold and taking land so they could dig for more gold.”
“You know, I wouldn’t have thought it myself, but it turns out the majority of them didn’t want war at all. Just wanted to go back to digging those infernal mines of theirs and hoarding treasure.”
“Really? No conflict at all? I had heard they were intent on claiming all the land from the highlands to the south coast!” said Hufflepuff.
“Well, the chief goblin, yes. The rest of them, no. It was the chief that was the problem. Nasty little fellow named Kerchek. Once we dealt with him the rest all but surrendered. We escorted them back to their homeland and that was that. Some of the others on the Council wanted to slaughter them all on the spot, said they were horrible creatures and eternal enemies of wizardkind,” said Gryffindor with a sad shake of his head, “but I told them they would have to kill me first. Still can’t believe sensible wizards and witches could even think of doing such a thing. We’re not Ogres.”
“Perhaps not,” said Slytherin, “but what makes you think they will not attempt another invasion in the future?”
“I can’t say that they won’t Salazar,” Gryffindor replied with a sigh. “But I met quite a few, talked with them. Devious creatures, no doubt”Can’t have a normal conversation with one without thinking he’s concocting a way to steal your purse and slit your throat. But all in all they are a decent lot. Mainly just want to be left alone. I don’t suspect we’ll have any more trouble with them until the next chief with a little too much ambition comes into power. Or until some idiot wizard tries breaking into their mines again.”
Hufflepuff chuckled. “And at that time you may very well wish you had slaughtered the whole lot.” She turned to Slytherin. “But enough about the goblins, what about you, Salazar? To what endeavors have you been devoting your considerable intellect and talent?”
“Ah, nothing important, Madame Hufflepuff,” he replied dismissively, “Nothing at all. He was silent for a brief moment as he fingered his glass.
“At least, nothing as important as the real reason for which we have met this day.” He glanced up at Godric Gryffindor after saying this, his eyebrows raised expectantly.
There was a brief period of awkward silence as each of the founders looked at Gryffindor anxiously. It seemed as though Slytherin had spoken something that had been on all of their minds, something they had each been wanting to discuss. Harry could feel an electricity in the air, and excitement so strong that it was almost palpable.
Gryffindor looked back at the other founders and smiled.
“I was hoping we would get to that.”