Chapter 1: Aramis Selby
Stories can die. They can fade from the world as time takes its toll on them. They can change into something unrecognizable; something astoundingly distant from the original version. And truth… Truth could so easily die along with the people who lived it.
Aramis Selby knew such things for they had been drilled into him since he was very young. “Stories had their own magic,” they would say, “a kind of magic that died only when they were lost to the world.” So by the age of sixteen, he knew an impressive number of stories, and he had a talent for telling them.
The idea that some stories could be lost - especially stories that were in Aramis’ time considered fact - was too cruel, he thought. But it was so easy for truth to be forgotten for ever. And that was why he carried with him a book in which he wrote his own history so that he would never be forgotten.
This is his story. The story that was forgotten.
A long, long time ago, a school was created in the heart of Scotland’s highlands. It still stands today as one of the greatest magical schools in history. Any studious witch or wizard such as, for example, Hermione Granger, will tell you that Hogwarts was built a thousand years ago by the four founders who named their houses after themselves. They were Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff respectively. This is considered fact, and has been included in every single Hogwarts: A History edition to date.
A studious History of Magic student such as Hermione Granger will eagerly further explain that one of the founders - Salazar Slytherin - disagreed with the other founders in regards to student selection, and that he eventually left the school. This, too, is considered fact, or ‘history’.
But little else is known of these events - a thousand years is a long time after all. And this is where the story of Aramis Selby comes into place. It is intertwined, you see, with the aforementioned events that made Hogwarts what it is now. But just as Aramis feared, the truth is all but forgotten.
He sat in the shade of an old oak by the lake. Truth be told it was a dangerous place to think in peace. The dragons were still roaming the Forbidden Forest. But the boy felt that any place was better than the Hogwarts grounds at the moment - too many people were eager to talk to him. He just wanted a few hours to himself before going back to the castle and pretending again.
He looked down at his journal, quickly scribbled another line or two, then closed it as he sighed. The golden little letters - ‘Aramis Selby’ - shimmered on the cover. He traced the letters with his index finger; it truly was a work of art. His uncle had bound the pages together, covering the front and back with two thick pieces of parchment which were themselves covered over with sheepskin. It was definitely an improvement to the usual scroll. Aramis called it his ‘Recorder’ for it held details of his life at Hogwarts.
It held many secrets and he shuddered to think what would happen if it fell into the wrong hands. But regardless of the risk, he continued to write and write in it, and he treasured it because it held the truth. His truth.
But the Aramis in those pages was not the Aramis everyone knew.
He noticed the sun set behind the mountains, its last rays of light shimmering on the lake. The sound of a bell signalled dinner. He groaned and stood up solemnly, knowing that he would once again have to put on an act just to please everyone. With a flick of his wand, a large rock moved aside, revealing a shallow dip in the ground. He placed the Recorder in it and moved the rock back over it. An ingenious spot to hide something so valuable, he thought.
He strutted through the Entrance Hall, pulling on a mask of confidence and winking at a girl he didn’t even know. Her subsequent giggles almost made him cringe.
“Aramis, my boy!” Before he could turn around, someone slapped him on the back, causing him to stumble forward. He heard the (unwelcome) person laugh heartily and realised that there was only one person as strong and loud. “Ah, you are much too thin. Your mother will scold me if you do not eat,” said the man.
Aramis turned to see the Headmaster, Godric Gryffindor, smiling broadly. He wore his usual brown and red cloak, with hat and boots to match. At his waist was a sword that Aramis never saw him without. Its hilt was decorated with rubies and runes, and the scabbard was covered with black leather. Godric Gryffindor towered over him, yet even though he was very tall for a wizard, he was rarely as intimidating as Professor Slytherin who seemed to take pleasure in seeing students cower.
“I’m sorry, sir,” said Aramis before he could figure out why he was apologising in the first place. The Headmaster waved his hand dismissively.
“How many times must I tell you to call me ‘uncle’?” he asked, his smile slightly waning. “Now go on. Dinner is starting. Your mother will murder me if she hears you’re starving.” The old man ruffled the boy’s messy brown hair before nudging him forward, smiling broadly and walking off.
When Aramis went into the Great Hall, he spotted most of the students already there. He smiled back at those who smiled at him, greeting and nodding and finally finding his reserved place among a group of very lively Gryffindor boys. They greeted him happily, raised their goblets to him and patted him hard on the back. They then began to tell him everything that had transpired in the two hours that Aramis had been ‘missing’.
Every single one of those boys resembled the Headmaster in demeanour - the same toughness, unconditional loyalty, bravery and… table manners. They looked up to the man and were proud to be in Gryffindor house. And so it was a little odd that Aramis Selby, Gryffindor’s own nephew, was the calm and collected one of the rowdy bunch. Nevertheless, Aramis was their leader and few could complain; he really was such a nice and proper young lad. He was skinny compared to the others, which was why Gryffindor insisted he eat more. But he certainly didn’t look weak; he made deliberate, nimble movements which was handy for the boys whenever sneaking around was required.
“My dear students!” began Gryffindor as he stood at the staff table, a goblet in hand. Aramis immediately noticed that the man’s smile seemed forced. He looked over the staff table and saw a very serious Rowena Ravenclaw and… Slytherin’s empty seat.
As Gryffindor continued his speech, Aramis glanced at the Slytherin table and realised someone else was missing.
“Seamus,” he whispered to the boy next to him. “Woodcroft isn’t here.” The other boy looked in the direction of the Slytherin table.
“Yes, I heard he was in trouble with Professor Slytherin.” Aramis raised an eyebrow.
“You jest!.”
“No, really. He burned the curtains in their Common Room. Apparently, Slytherin was beside himself with rage.”
“I cannot imagine Woodcroft doing anything so stupid, and I cannot imagine Slytherin ever punishing him,” he said more to himself. Seamus simply shrugged in response as he helped himself to a bowl of potatoes that had appeared on the table along with the rest of dinner.
Aramis sighed and looked over at the staff table. Professors Gryffindor and Ravenclaw seemed to be arguing quietly. He wished he knew what it was about this time, although he had a general idea… The Great Hall was erupting with chatter and laugher and he wondered how the professors could even hear each other speak.
He scratched his head, sat in silence for a moment, then filled his plate with food and listened - with feigned enthusiasm - to the chatter around him.
“I swear, Rowena - “
“Yes, yes.”
“I’m being serious, woman!”
“Don’t call me ‘woman’!”
“But I swear to Merlin I’ll - “
“You’ll what?” The black-haired woman straightened up, fully facing Godric Gryffindor with a fork in hand. “You’ll barge into the dungeons and give him a ‘piece of you mind’? Yes, I remember how that went last time. Complete fiasco!”
Godric Gryffindor sat silently in his comfy, blood-red armchair. He tapped his fingers uneasily in the hopes of breaking the sudden, awkward silence between them. But Rowena simply sat back on her equally blood-red armchair and watched him patiently.
He didn’t look up. He couldn’t. Rowena Ravenclaw had a fierceness in her eyes that rivaled his own. He didn’t want to see that fierceness so he resigned himself to tracing the swirling patterns on one arm of his intricately carved armchair. It was quite remarkable workmanship really; carved out of holly, suede leather of Hippogriff, glazed with the very best Swedish Short-Snout sweat -
“Well?”
“Huh?” Rowena sighed loudly and crossed her arms.
“The last time, you old sot, you went to give Salazar a ‘piece of your mind‘, both of you ended up draining our Winter’s supply of mead! You were so loud, the students heard you! That’s hardly professional, Godric!” She huffed, then continued. “And if I hear ‘1000 Bottles of Mead on the Wall’ one more time, I’ll hex both of you into oblivion!”
Godric sat as far back in his chair as he could, wishing nothing more than to sink into it and disappear, but his pride was making him slowly sit up. Rowena was scary, but Godric Gryffindor was much too proud to ever admit it.
He cleared his throat. “Ahem, come now, Rowena. You know as much as I do that we all agreed we wouldn’t have pets of… questionable safety -”
“You own a large, three-headed -”
“ I mean inside the castle.”
“Puddles still lives in the school grounds, Godric. And you didn‘t even consult us about him until after he made himself comfortable by the lake.”
“Well he’s… erm… guarding the lake!”
“From what? The merpeople? Ha!” Rowena snorted. “Godric, I very much doubt that a three-headed dog can swim.”
“Did you see the size of Salazar’s egg?! Snake eggs aren’t supposed to be that big!”
“Well I see your point.”
“Then wouldn’t you agree that a snake that may grow to be an anaconda is unsafe for our students?” Rowena sighed. Godric had a point.
“Yes, I agree with you. But you know where this is coming from. If you can have a tower, we all have to have a tower. Salazar really wasn’t happy when you told him he couldn’t have one.”
“Yes, but he has the dungeons all to himself - “
“And he wanted a pet for a long time, Godric. We kept saying no... And then you bring one to the school, you hypocrite!”
“Well, what if we all agree on a single pet that will protect the school grounds?” Rowena shook her head slowly. She leaned back in her chair and sighed deeply as she watched the students eating and chatting away.
“This isn’t really about pets now, is it?” She heaved a deep sigh when he failed to answer. “Godric, why must you two argue constantly? You used to be such close friends -”
“That was a long time ago.”
“It has been eighty years since we created this place. Eighty years of friendship, Godric. That must mean something to you.” Godric Gryffindor sighed sadly.
“Of course it does. But he has changed. He doesn’t trust the Muggle-borns. The things he sometimes says…” He shook his head sadly. “What am I to do, Rowena?”
“Talk to him. Try to understand. You don’t have to agree with him. But… just talk to him.” Godric’s shoulders drooped whilst he sighed deeply. Eventually, he nodded and Rowena smiled.
“Good. Oh, by the way, how did you find out he had a snake egg in the first place?”
“Aramis told me - Ow!” Gryffindor rubbed his arm as he glared at Rowena. “What in Circe’s name was that for?!”
“You made your own nephew go and spy -”
“No, I didn’t! He approached me and told me. Clever young lad,” said Godric proudly. “Noble as a true Gryffindor.” Rowena rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded like ‘…that boy…Slytherin quality’.
“Aramis! Tell us the one about Hercules!”
That was the very first thing Aramis heard when he entered the Gryffindor Common Room. His group of friends followed suit - stopping abruptly at the sound of the word ‘Hercules’ - and sat him down on a very large armchair, not unlike Gryffindor’s.
“That’s a good idea, McLeod! Come, Aramis, tell us!”
“Yes, tell us!”
Aramis crossed his legs and tried to make himself comfortable in the chair designed for (very large) kings. He then cleared his throat and began to tell them a story of Hercules. And when he did, they were entranced, listening to every word that rolled off his tongue so clearly and easily. They saw mountains, rivers and grasslands in their minds’ eye. And all were silent, because no one ever interrupted a good storyteller.
Aramis genuinely smiled as he watched their faces. They were so wrapped up in the story itself. It was odd, he thought, how the only time he could make everyone stop bothering him was when he was telling them a story. He did, of course, notice a group of girls batting their eyelashes at him and licking their lips; not really paying much attention to what he was saying but rather how he was saying it.
But when the story was over, the magic ended. And although everyone seemed more fond of him than before, something was gone. He noticed it but didn’t know exactly what it was…
A loud voice suddenly rang through the room, and the entire castle. “It is twenty one hours. Prefects are to begin their rounds. All students are required to be in their Common Rooms. Goodnight.”
“I should go,” said Aramis as he promptly stood up, shaking his head politely and declining offers and requests, some of which made him blush. He walked out of the portrait hole, heard it close behind him and then heaved a deep sigh.
He patrolled the corridors, one floor after another. Every now and then he would come across a fellow prefect, but there were no other students sneaking out this night. Finally he came to the ground floor and as he did, his eyes wondered over to an entrance in the shadows - the entrance to the dungeons.
He bit his lower lip and stared at it for a long time. There was no need to patrol there since Woodcroft, his Slytherin counterpart, had the job to himself. And after all, it was Slytherin territory. Going in would be like sneaking around and dodging a pack of sleeping wolves. But it was a mystery, and Aramis never considered his curiosity to be a dangerous thing.
Yet he did what he always did when he was tempted to go inside there at night. He simply stood there and stared into it, unable to move any closer. He had gone inside once before, during class time, just to see what it was like. That was the day he overheard a very interesting conversation about a giant snake egg Professor Slytherin had been secretly hiding.
“Selby,” came a quiet, slippery voice behind him. He knew immediately who it was. Slowly he turned around and saw Tobias Woodcroft with what seemed to be a cross between a smirk and a polite smile.
“Woodcroft,” he acknowledged as he masked all emotion with ease.
“Your self control is admirable, Selby. A moment ago I truly believed you would at least scowl at me like every other Gryffindor.”
“I have no reason to scowl at you,” said Aramis convincingly. Woodcroft nodded his head ever so slightly. The two boys stared at each other in silence for a moment, Woodcroft’s grey eyes studying Aramis’ brown. But then the Slytherin broke eye contact and looked thoughtfully at the dungeon entrance.
“You and I are not so different, you know,” said Woodcroft quietly. “We both need a bit of danger to feel alive.” Aramis raised his eyebrows slightly.
“You think so?” Woodcroft smiled in return, but his eyes revealed a very shrewd, alert mind.
“We both like to explore, to hide in the shadows and observe.” He paused and watched the Gryffindor in front of him. After a moment he said, “Salazar Slytherin understands this. He understands us.”
“Us? I’m afraid I don’t understand -”
“Yes, you do. You understand perfectly,” said Woodcroft, his smile disappearing and his eyes suddenly possessing a strange glow. “Our fathers are dead, killed by the Muggles whose children we are now forced to mingle with!” Aramis’ eyebrows knitted.
“Such language - !”
“Such language is not unheard of here,” said Woodcroft quietly. His eyes still flashed dangerously but the anger in his voice was hidden away. “And you must be true to your beliefs, Selby. I can see it in your eyes. You think as we do but you fear to admit it -”
“I don’t hate Muggle-borns!” Aramis hissed as he took a step forward, invading the Slytherin boy‘s personal space. Woodcroft only smiled and crossed his arms.
“You think you’re so righteous, don’t you?” He dodged Aramis and turned toward the dungeons. “But next time you listen in on Slytherin’s conversations, think before you blabber to Gryffindor.”
How did he know it was me? thought Aramis frantically. Woodcroft turned around at the entrance.
“Oh, by the way,” he said nonchalantly, “curiosity killed the cat… And wouldn’t that be a shame?”
Aramis watched Woodcroft disappear into the shadows of the dungeon corridor. He was suddenly aware of the sweat on his forehead. He breathed out slowly.
But satisfaction brought it back, he thought to himself as he climbed up the stairs and back to the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory .
His last thoughts before he fell into a deep sleep were of the very real threat Woodcroft had given him. Aramis could not shake off the feeling of fear easily because… it was Woodcroft - the sly, scheming boy who got away with everything - telling Aramis to stop sneaking about and spilling Slytherin secrets.
Woodcroft knew more than most… He knew too much.
“Ah, Aramis, can you bring this note to Professor Slytherin for me?” whispered Godric to his nephew.
“Is this about the giant snake, sir?”
“What?! How do you know about that?”
“I was the one who told you, sir.”
“Ah, yes, yes. My little spy!” He ruffled Aramis’ hair.
“Erm… why are we whispering?” But Aramis already knew. From the way Godric was constantly looking over his shoulder, Aramis decided that Rowena Ravenclaw’s potential wrath had something to do with it.
“Oh, well this is our little secret, alright?” I thought everyone knew about it… Aramis nodded and the Headmaster finally left him alone in the corridor.
He yawned and looked out of the window and into the grounds. The lake was shimmering in the moonlight, and beside the lake was the three-headed dog - Puddles - yawning and stretching like an over-grown puppy.
Aramis recalled how mesmerized everyone was when they noticed the creature simply lying there by the river’s edge. It had been only two days ago, in fact the same day that Aramis overheard Professor Slytherin talk about his snake egg to a select group of Slytherins. At first he was reluctant to tell his uncle about it. The two professors did not get along very well these days and the last thing they needed was an excuse to be at each other’s throats again. But Gryffindor was his uncle, they were blood bound like all families were. It all had to do with loyalty, and truth.
Aramis looked down at the note. It was sealed by magic… It had to be important. Slowly he made his way to Slytherin’s office… in the dungeons. He was almost there, walking silently as he always did, but just as he was about to turn a corner, he abruptly stopped as he heard his own name.
“…and that Selby -”
“Do not worry about him, boy.” Aramis recognised the voices as that of Slytherin and Woodcroft. “It is Godric I am tired of. He doesn’t want the Basilisk in the school.” Aramis edged closer to the door and leaned his ear onto it.
“He knows it’s a Basilisk?”
“Of course not, you fool! He would never allow such a monster at Hogwarts if he knew what it truly was. We shall have to keep it hidden in the Chamber of Secrets.”
A Chamber of Secrets? I’ve never heard of that, thought Aramis as he frowned and pressed his ear even closer to the door.
“When is the next meeting, sir?”
“Midnight tonight. Remember, Woodcroft, do not bring any Mud-bloods or blood traitors. Merlin knows I am tired of them!”
“Yes, sir.”
Aramis ran as quickly and quietly as he could. His head was buzzing with the new information. Salazar Slytherin had some sort of Chamber of Secrets and he was keeping a Basilisk! And Aramis was willing to bet that what ever the ‘meetings’ involved, it wouldn’t sit well with the Headmaster!
The events after that were a blur to him. Only in years to come would Aramis manage to put the pieces together.
He muttered the password to Godric Gryffindor’s office and stumbled inside. He explained it all in between deep breaths. He watched as his uncle’s eyes grew wide and his brows furrowed. He watched as the man took out his wand and stormed out of his office without a word. Aramis knew that what was to come certainly wouldn’t be pleasant. He wondered if he had done the right thing. He wondered if he had done something terrible; if he had somehow betrayed himself and set in motion something dreadful.
Aramis cautiously followed Gryffindor. He was a fair few steps behind, eager to know what would come next and dreading it at the same time.
“So,” began Godric as he walked into Salazar’s office without bothering to knock. “You have been conspiring behind my back.” Salazar stared at the man for a long moment, his expression blank. Two Slytherin boys sat in the guest chairs, looking nervously from one professor to the other.
“Who told you that?” asked Salazar quietly.
“It matters not. I have my sources.” Salazar looked behind him and noticed Aramis.
“I see,” he said simply, putting his quill down.
If shouting were like thunder, what happened next could only be described as the most vicious of storms. The two men clashed - their thoughts, their words, their spells, their rage. Fury of the seas mixed with the fastest fires and the most vicious thunder. All the thoughts that had been bottled up for years, were said.
And in his blinding rage, Salazar cursed Godric and vowed not to return until the man was on his last breath. The Headmaster in turn cursed Salazar, but of this curse there is no record. The confrontation has so many versions that the only thing now certain is that Salazar Slytherin did not leave peacefully.
In fact, he sought revenge.
A/N: Liked it? Didn't? Let me know! Concludes in second (and last) chapter.