"Sorting It Out" for EVERYONE!
Title: Sorting It Out
Gift for: EVERYONE!
Author: liliths_requiem
Pairings: Helga/Rowena, unrequited!Godric/Helga, unrequited!Salazar/Rowena, unrequited!Lady Gryffindor/Godric
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: femslash, boys’ naughty thoughts
Genres: gen!fic with generous helpings of flangst
Author's/Artist's Notes: Thanks to S for proofreading, and for not killing me when I completely changed the idea of this piece. So I tried writing about the creation of the school, but the story became so clinical I couldn’t stand it.
Summary: The creation of the Sorting Hat: In which Godric has a rare epiphany, Helga’s sweet, Rowena doesn’t complain too much, and Salazar remains the voice of reason.
It wasn’t every day that Godric Geoffrey Gryffindor was struck by an intelligent thought. Rowena was the brains of their operation, and when she wasn’t around Sal always served as a pretty decent stand-in. Not that he was going to admit that now, not when Salazar had openly demoralized one of Godric’s favorite students simply because the poor boy was a muggle. That moment had almost resulted in an all-out duel, which Helga had only just prevented by showing up with treacle tart just in time. A lover for treacle tart was one of the many things Godric and his best friend of fifty years had in common, and the fight ended before it began. However, the two hadn’t spoken to one another since the incident, nearly three days ago.
Godric’s epiphany came in the middle of Magical Theory, a class he created by himself which focused on the study and creation of new spells. He only took the bravest of the students in this class due to the risks associated with new magic. Although no one had died in the last twenty years of the class, he wasn’t ready to deal with training men and women who weren’t up to the challenge. Those who were afraid of their own shadows belonged with Salazar and his animals, Helga and her plants, or Rowena and her books. Only those with heart could face the rigorous demands Godric placed upon his students. Helga said he was arrogant, but Godric knew he was simply proud.
He had been staring at Rowena’s old hat, a tattered witch’s hat sewn by her mother, who had once been the most powerful sorceress in Scotland. The title had been passed down to Rowena, who clung to it like an heirloom. She was training her daughter, Helena, to carry on the title after her death, but Helena was not proving to be a very worthy heir. She wasn’t half as intelligent as her mother, nor did she have the same desire to learn and grow. Helena would much rather spend her time batting her eyes at the boys in the village, something that made Godric more than slightly angry. He hated watching his surrogate daughter act like a prostitute in the middle of the street, and he had no qualms about scaring off the young men who dared to approach her. Rowena had all but washed her hands of the wayward nineteen year old, leaving Helga to play mum while Godric tried his hand at being paternal. So far, neither of them had done a very decent job.
The hat was slightly tattered, but beyond that it still looked as good as new. It was made of wool and dyed by some of the best dyers in Scotland, who had made it for Genna Ravenclaw forty nine years ago to honor her for saving their country from Drago Yaxley, who took to morphing into a dragon and attacking wherever he saw fit. Rowena often told this story to the younger children that she taught, to make them understand the practical ways in which magic could be used. It was the fastest way to determine which student should have which mentor. Those that belonged with Godric often commented on how brave Genna had been while those who belonged with Salazar wanted to know how else Genna had been rewarded. Helga’s group believed that the only reason Genna attacked Yaxley was to help her fellow man while Rowena’s students often asked which spells Genna had used to defeat the monster. The system worked well for the present, but all of the Founders were getting on in age, and Godric knew that after they had passed it would be important to know which students belonged in which House, especially if the school was going to outlive its builders.
Which brought Godric to his epiphany. The Founders focused mainly on the thought processes of their students when it came to deciding who got who, and Godric knew that later generations would need to focus on the same thing. What better way to understand thought processes than to get into the student’s brain? After staring at the Hat for a good three minutes, Godric knew exactly what he wanted done. The only problem was, he knew he wasn’t gifted enough to carry out the task himself. Although his pride often forbade him from asking for help, he gathered all of his Gryffindor courage and went in search of his three oldest friends, knowing that together they could build the Hat.
:::
Helga was, as Helga usually was after classes, in the kitchen supervising the House-elfs as they made supper. She wasn’t very pleased with the idea of keeping the House-elfs enslaved, but as the little critters seemed to enjoy the oppression, she didn’t argue about it anymore. Besides, she didn’t like it when Rowena called her ridiculous, and, come to think of it, neither did Godric. Rowena’s disdain for Helga’ humanitarian spirit would always lead to a lovers’ spat between the two girls reminiscent of the ones they had more than thirty years ago when they were all just teenagers with a dream. It was better if Helga just kept her opinions to herself, as far as Godric was concerned, because when push came to shove it wasn’t as if she had the gall to do anything about the injustices she found everywhere she turned.
“Helga!” Godric called out, skidding to a halt in front of the kitchen door. There were two older students working in the kitchen with the bubbly, heavy-set woman, both of which were most likely never going to be anything more than cooks in royal households. Not that this was a job Godric looked down upon, it just wasn’t something any of his students would aspire to. Helga always ended up with the students who would never get fame, fortune, or glory. Her students, like herself, worked behind the scenes, keeping everything running while everyone else was too busy to pay attention. For that, Godric had nothing but respect for Madame Hufflepuff and her brood.
Helga turned to him and smiled, her gray-brown curls bouncing around her smiling face. Regardless of the amount of time the older man had spent with her, Godric could not yet consider himself immune to her perfect curves and her sparkling smile. He knew he had lost the young woman’s heart to Rowena without so much as a fight, but that didn’t stop him from hanging around Helga as much as he could. “Ricky!” Helga gushed, handing him a piece of pumpkin pie, “Tell me how this tastes? Leanne says it’s good, but I don’t think it’s sweet enough.”
Godric took a bite and smiled, knowing that he would never get to have a conversation with his colleague if he didn’t follow her wishes. “It’s sweet enough,” he answered, polishing off the treat, “But never as sweet as you, my dear.” Helga colored prettily, her skin remaining pale and young despite the gray in her hair and the wrinkles around her eyes. Rowena called them ‘laugh lines’, because Helga always laughed with her eyes scrunched up and her lips opened wide. Godric loved making Helga laugh, almost as much as Rowena did.
“Oh, good,” she replied, her voice rich like the honey she was pouring over the bread. “Was there something that you wanted, love?” Helga’s endearments were always readily offered, and visitors to the school never knew who it was she shared a bed with at night. Those who believed opposite attract often assumed it was Salazar while those who believed friendship was the foundation of all good romances assumed it was Godric. Only three visitors to the school ever knew Rowena and Helga slept in Rowena’s tower, together, every night: Nimue, the Lady of the Lake, and Merlin. Merlin was just a young thing, a current student at Hogwarts, but he was an intelligent boy who Godric loved as fiercely as he would his own son. Salazar, of course, couldn’t stand the boy because he was born of muggle parents, but the two female founders could often be found tutoring Merlin behind Godric’s back, trying to teach him all the secrets he would need to keep Hogwarts alive. Since Helena obviously wasn’t the best choice for an heir, the awkward boy from Wales would have to do.
Godric shook his head excitedly and walked through the doorway to sit at the small table next to the fire. A few House-elfs were sitting next to him, busily chopping carrots and celery to put in the stew. He smiled at them and handed them a few pieces of sugar, knowing they valued the sweet, fluffy stuff more than they probably should. “Yes,” stated, tearing his eyes away from Helga’s bum as it swayed back and forth to the tune she was humming. “I have an idea for sorting the students after we’ve all passed on and I think I need your help.”
Helga stopped humming and turned to look at Godric thoughtfully. “Well, that’s awfully morbid,” she observed, absently sucking on the wooden spoon, “Do you think it’s really something we need to address now? I mean, Salazar’s the oldest, and he’s not yet sixty.” For the muggles, sixty was quite old, but witches and wizards lived well into their hundredth year on a regular basis. Salazar claimed it was the magic that kept them alive, but Godric was pretty sure it was simply because magic made life easier, and the easier life was the longer one lived. It was simple logic, really, but Salazar still seemed to find it flawed.
Always stubborn, which Rowena claimed was a flaw and Salazar proclaimed was one of his few redeeming qualities, Godric nodded his head. “Of course we should address it now. One never knows what will happen in the future. If we do it now, at least we can rest assured that the students will be trained in the best way they can long after we’ve been sent out to sea.” Although muggle burials were becoming more and more common within the wizarding world, as anyone who attended a wizarding funeral was often burned at the stake a few days later, Godric knew he wanted to be sent to sea when he died, and he knew the others shared this wish.
Helga stood in front of him for a moment, both hands on her hips, spoon dripping honey onto the floor, and teats sticking out tantalizingly. It was pathetic, how juvenile his thoughts remained despite the years that passed. They were talking about something important, here, and he couldn’t focus on anything other than how delectable Helga looked standing like that. Forcing himself to pay attention, he met Helga’s eyes and listened as she spoke. “I guess you’re right. What did you have in mind? And have you spoken to Rowena or Salazar about this? More importantly, have you spoken to Salazar at all?” Assuring her that he had not spoken to Salazar and that he wanted to run his plan past her before placing it before Rowena for scrutiny, Godric explained how they could use the Hat. Helga, who knew very little about mind charms, didn’t understand much about the abstract aspect of the plan, but she was quite adept at domestic charms, like keeping a hat around for thousands of years, and she was more than happy to be of help.
“It sounds brilliant,” Helga stated as she finished the stew, “Lets us tell Rowena after supper, yes? I’m sure she’ll be thrilled. And then you can go talk to Salazar. Christ knows you need to have a conversation with him before the entire Castle crumbles under the tension.”
:::
“We are not going to use a Hat,” Rowena ranted later that night, safely secured behind a wall of stone and beneath the floors of Hogwarts. She was angry, which was the way Salazar liked her best, and her skin was flushed red. He bit back the emotions the threatened to spill over; the same emotions that always threatened to spill over when Rowena was in the room. Even if he didn’t stand a chance. “I mean, what was he thinking? Was he thinking? Of course he wasn’t thinking. He’s Godric. Thinking is one of those things that happens once in a, in a, in a blue moon! Sal, what are we going to do?”
Salazar knew Godric was right, and he knew fighting about this with the other man would only lead to bigger problems between the two. While he was all about getting ahead, in this case with Rowena’s heart, he wasn’t about to put the school on the line for his own romantic interests, especially when he knew he was bound to fail. “You’re wrong, Rowena,” his tone was characteristically measured, “The Hat is probably the most brilliant idea Godric’s had in his entire life.” There, he gave her the truth and complimented the bastard with one sentence. Feeling particularly proud of himself, Salazar leaned forward and grabbed the younger woman’s hands.
“Rowena, we built such a beautiful school together,” he knew that, despite all her logic, Rowena was fiercely vain, “don’t let our legacy die with us. Make the damned Hat for the love of Lucifer. It isn’t like it’s going to kill you to do it.” He was right, of course, and he knew he was right, but this knowledge didn’t shield him from the pain of having Rowena pulled her hands back when the door latch opened unexpectedly and Godric and Helga strode in.
Helga didn’t notice how close Rowena and Salazar were standing, or if she did she chose not to comment on it. Both women were quite secure in their love for one another, and neither would ever accuse the other of something as banal as adultery. Her voice was light and cheerful when she said, “So, lovelies, have you reached a decision?” As far back as Salazar could remember, Helga referred to him and Rowena as her ‘lovelies’ while Godric was her ‘lion.’ She was undeniably closer to Godric than she was to Salazar, and the parseltongue knew that Rowena had become violently jealous of Godric more than once. She wasn’t jealous because she doubted Helga, of course, but because she was afraid Godric would force himself upon her lover. Helga and Godric were both fiercely, and openly, protective of those they loved, but he and Rowena were jealously protective of the things they believed belonged to them.
Rowena pulled her shoulders back to push herself up to her full height. She looked ominously imposing as she towered above the rest of them, her strong Scottish roots evident in the black midnight of her hair and the burning coal in her eyes. The way she looked right now made Salazar wonder absently about how she would look underneath him, but he knew such thoughts were not going to lead to anywhere productive. He focused on the way her hands seemed to itch for her wand as she began to speak. “We will make the Hat,” she stated, her tone harsh and jagged, like glass shards scattering on marble floors, “And we will make it so it will last forever.” Rowena then smiled at her friends, knowing that they had all been holding their breath as she spoke.
Helga was the first to react. A grin cracked across her face and she threw herself at the taller woman, hugging her fiercely to her buxom breast. “Oh, Ro, I knew you would agree.” She pulled back to kiss her lover full on the lips, something the two rarely allowed others to see, due to the stigma placed upon same-sex relationships. Godric visibly flinched as the two women locked lips, and Salazar knew his old friend was in pain, watching the love of his life kiss another woman. Salazar, who was much better at hiding his emotions, only allowed his hand to twitch painfully before he pulled out his wand and made a fire, if only because it gave him something to do. Finally, the two broke apart and Helga, at least, had the grace to look bashful. Rowena didn’t. She simply stood there, smiling, and called for one of the House-elfs to pour them ale. Tonight, of all nights, was a night to celebrate.
As Salazar watched his three friends interact while he remained silent, he became painfully aware that he and Godric weren’t talking, and he wasn’t entirely sure they would ever speak to one another again.
:::
“Maybe if I rework the charms on the threading it’ll be able to withstand the insects?” Helga was painfully distraught. Rowena had finally finished the theoretical planning for how to make the Hat intelligent enough to judge which House each student belonged to. Godric, ever the jester, placed a few choice spells on the Hat that would allow it to challenge their spirits to sing a song every year in aid of the current generation. Salazar, who remained practical to a fault, placed more protective spells than all three of the others combined knew on the Hat in order to protect it from sources of evil and from muggles who hoped to destroy the school. Everyone had done their part in the creation of the new Hat, everyone besides Helga.
Secretly, Helga believed they were all expecting her to fall short of what the job required. Although she was always trying to better her spellcrafting abilities, when push came to shove the only things she was excellent at were cooking spells and domestic care. It was embarrassing, really, to have Godric be a genius with spells and Rowena be the “brightest witch of her age,” according to Jack Black, one of the most prominent members of wizarding England, and Salazar be overtly gifted in animal care and potion, while she was barely above average in all of these disciplines. Ever Lady Gryffindor, Godric’s wife, was well-versed in divination and arithmancy with an unnatural talent for runes. It was unnerving, to be surrounded by such talent all the time and never be able to compare. Not that she thought the others didn’t love and respect her, she knew they did, she just couldn’t understand why.
“This is hopeless,” Helga finally conceded, holding the Hat up at an arm’s length, “Surely someone else would be better at this? I’m sure we can find someone better at household charms than I am.” Obviously, there was no one within the castle that had her skill, but she was sure a local witch or wizard would know how to work with cloth much better than she could. Becoming frustrated with her own inability, the distraught witch flung the Hat across the room and watched with satisfaction as it fluttered to the ground.
Rowena looked on from her place on the floor, reading a parchment by firelight. “El, dear, you’re being completely unreasonable. We all know there is no one on earth quite as skilled with domestic magic as you are.” It was a compliment, but one Helga refused to accept because Rowena was her lover, and of course she would compliment her. Helga still blushed prettily under the compliment, despite swearing she was immune to Rowena’s compliments by now. They had been together for a little over thirty years, and Helga was there the night a village squire forced himself upon Rowena and impregnated her. They had gone through everything together, and Helga knew that, if anyone could help her find the strength to figure out the cloth problem, it would be the raven haired beauty beside her.
“I just hate not knowing what I’m doing wrong,” Helga stated, her eyes beseeching Rowena for help. The taller woman rose from her seat on the floor and strode over to where the Hat had landed. She picked it up and dusted it off and handed it to her lover absently. Then, she turned back around and headed towards the door. “Where are you going?” Helga asked, not believing that Rowena would abandon her in that moment.
Rowena turned gracefully and smiled. “I know absolutely nothing about domestic charms, El,” the taller woman confessed, “If you want help, ask the House-elfs, but then you taught them all they know.” Rowena paused for a moment, pulled on her tight braids and shrugged, “I guess you’ll just have to rely on yourself, my darling, I’ll be in our bed when you are done.” It was an incentive Helga knew Rowena knew would work, and so she was not surprised when the Scottish lass smiled coquettishly as she closed the door behind her. Helga pulled out her wand and sighed in frustration, it was going to be a long night, but she was determined to finish the Hat and have her way with Rowena before the sun rose.
:::
The Sorting Hat was completed late in June, just in time to be tested on the new batch of students that would arrive in August or September, as soon as the harvest was over. Rowena was quite pleased with the outcome of their endeavor, even if she hadn’t been fully supportive in the beginning. She had to hand it to Godric, he sure came through for them when it came to the future of the school, and Rowena knew Hogwarts was the most important thing in the world to him, even more than his love for Helga. Yes, she knew about that, despite being called emotionless and frigid by many of her students, Rowena was not blind enough to miss the blatant looks of adoration Godric smothered Helga with whenever he had the chance. Rowena felt intensely sorry for Eliza Gryffindor, who seemed to truly love her husband despite the obvious unrequited state of her affection.
“Oh, Ro, I’m so glad we finished it,” Helga gushed as they tested the Hat out for the first time. It was humorous to watch the poor thing mull over where Salazar belonged, as he was obviously more brave than he was ambitious at times, which meant he wasn’t entirely meant for his own house. The other three were obvious caricatures of the traits they valued most, and Rowena was more than happy to pronounce this experiment a success. She was writing about the experiment in one of her scrolls and hoped to give it to Merlin when he left the school next year to go study healing and magical music on the Isle of Avalon, where Helga’s cousin, Nimue, taught.
Rowena nodded her head and pulled her lover close to her. She loved seeing Helga happy, and she was glad that Salazar had been able to talk her into accepting Godric’s suggestion. The two men were standing apart from them at the moment. They were talking to each other for the first time in months. Rowena was glad that the Hat had finally brought them together, because the castle was literally falling apart under the tension the two of them created. She watched the two of them hug and smile, although Salazar’s seemed slightly broken and Godric’s seemed completely false. She leaned close to Helga and whispered warningly, “I think we’re going to be faced with a storm.” Helga shook her head and set her face determinedly.
“No,” Helga replied, her voice uncharacteristically firm, “They won’t break. We’re too strong to break.” Rowena watched as the two men walked over to them and smiled warmly. “You’re right,” Rowena confessed as the men walked past, “We’re too strong to break,” she paused to let the words sink in, “We’re going to shatter. “
Rowena and Helga looked out into the sunrise and watched the light catch upon the skin of their giant pet squid. They knew the end was drawing near; they were growing apart and growing older, but they saw Godric and Salazar stop and look out upon the sun and they knew that, despite the future, this one moment would last forever.
Gift for: EVERYONE!
Author: liliths_requiem
Pairings: Helga/Rowena, unrequited!Godric/Helga, unrequited!Salazar/Rowena, unrequited!Lady Gryffindor/Godric
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: femslash, boys’ naughty thoughts
Genres: gen!fic with generous helpings of flangst
Author's/Artist's Notes: Thanks to S for proofreading, and for not killing me when I completely changed the idea of this piece. So I tried writing about the creation of the school, but the story became so clinical I couldn’t stand it.
Summary: The creation of the Sorting Hat: In which Godric has a rare epiphany, Helga’s sweet, Rowena doesn’t complain too much, and Salazar remains the voice of reason.
It wasn’t every day that Godric Geoffrey Gryffindor was struck by an intelligent thought. Rowena was the brains of their operation, and when she wasn’t around Sal always served as a pretty decent stand-in. Not that he was going to admit that now, not when Salazar had openly demoralized one of Godric’s favorite students simply because the poor boy was a muggle. That moment had almost resulted in an all-out duel, which Helga had only just prevented by showing up with treacle tart just in time. A lover for treacle tart was one of the many things Godric and his best friend of fifty years had in common, and the fight ended before it began. However, the two hadn’t spoken to one another since the incident, nearly three days ago.
Godric’s epiphany came in the middle of Magical Theory, a class he created by himself which focused on the study and creation of new spells. He only took the bravest of the students in this class due to the risks associated with new magic. Although no one had died in the last twenty years of the class, he wasn’t ready to deal with training men and women who weren’t up to the challenge. Those who were afraid of their own shadows belonged with Salazar and his animals, Helga and her plants, or Rowena and her books. Only those with heart could face the rigorous demands Godric placed upon his students. Helga said he was arrogant, but Godric knew he was simply proud.
He had been staring at Rowena’s old hat, a tattered witch’s hat sewn by her mother, who had once been the most powerful sorceress in Scotland. The title had been passed down to Rowena, who clung to it like an heirloom. She was training her daughter, Helena, to carry on the title after her death, but Helena was not proving to be a very worthy heir. She wasn’t half as intelligent as her mother, nor did she have the same desire to learn and grow. Helena would much rather spend her time batting her eyes at the boys in the village, something that made Godric more than slightly angry. He hated watching his surrogate daughter act like a prostitute in the middle of the street, and he had no qualms about scaring off the young men who dared to approach her. Rowena had all but washed her hands of the wayward nineteen year old, leaving Helga to play mum while Godric tried his hand at being paternal. So far, neither of them had done a very decent job.
The hat was slightly tattered, but beyond that it still looked as good as new. It was made of wool and dyed by some of the best dyers in Scotland, who had made it for Genna Ravenclaw forty nine years ago to honor her for saving their country from Drago Yaxley, who took to morphing into a dragon and attacking wherever he saw fit. Rowena often told this story to the younger children that she taught, to make them understand the practical ways in which magic could be used. It was the fastest way to determine which student should have which mentor. Those that belonged with Godric often commented on how brave Genna had been while those who belonged with Salazar wanted to know how else Genna had been rewarded. Helga’s group believed that the only reason Genna attacked Yaxley was to help her fellow man while Rowena’s students often asked which spells Genna had used to defeat the monster. The system worked well for the present, but all of the Founders were getting on in age, and Godric knew that after they had passed it would be important to know which students belonged in which House, especially if the school was going to outlive its builders.
Which brought Godric to his epiphany. The Founders focused mainly on the thought processes of their students when it came to deciding who got who, and Godric knew that later generations would need to focus on the same thing. What better way to understand thought processes than to get into the student’s brain? After staring at the Hat for a good three minutes, Godric knew exactly what he wanted done. The only problem was, he knew he wasn’t gifted enough to carry out the task himself. Although his pride often forbade him from asking for help, he gathered all of his Gryffindor courage and went in search of his three oldest friends, knowing that together they could build the Hat.
:::
Helga was, as Helga usually was after classes, in the kitchen supervising the House-elfs as they made supper. She wasn’t very pleased with the idea of keeping the House-elfs enslaved, but as the little critters seemed to enjoy the oppression, she didn’t argue about it anymore. Besides, she didn’t like it when Rowena called her ridiculous, and, come to think of it, neither did Godric. Rowena’s disdain for Helga’ humanitarian spirit would always lead to a lovers’ spat between the two girls reminiscent of the ones they had more than thirty years ago when they were all just teenagers with a dream. It was better if Helga just kept her opinions to herself, as far as Godric was concerned, because when push came to shove it wasn’t as if she had the gall to do anything about the injustices she found everywhere she turned.
“Helga!” Godric called out, skidding to a halt in front of the kitchen door. There were two older students working in the kitchen with the bubbly, heavy-set woman, both of which were most likely never going to be anything more than cooks in royal households. Not that this was a job Godric looked down upon, it just wasn’t something any of his students would aspire to. Helga always ended up with the students who would never get fame, fortune, or glory. Her students, like herself, worked behind the scenes, keeping everything running while everyone else was too busy to pay attention. For that, Godric had nothing but respect for Madame Hufflepuff and her brood.
Helga turned to him and smiled, her gray-brown curls bouncing around her smiling face. Regardless of the amount of time the older man had spent with her, Godric could not yet consider himself immune to her perfect curves and her sparkling smile. He knew he had lost the young woman’s heart to Rowena without so much as a fight, but that didn’t stop him from hanging around Helga as much as he could. “Ricky!” Helga gushed, handing him a piece of pumpkin pie, “Tell me how this tastes? Leanne says it’s good, but I don’t think it’s sweet enough.”
Godric took a bite and smiled, knowing that he would never get to have a conversation with his colleague if he didn’t follow her wishes. “It’s sweet enough,” he answered, polishing off the treat, “But never as sweet as you, my dear.” Helga colored prettily, her skin remaining pale and young despite the gray in her hair and the wrinkles around her eyes. Rowena called them ‘laugh lines’, because Helga always laughed with her eyes scrunched up and her lips opened wide. Godric loved making Helga laugh, almost as much as Rowena did.
“Oh, good,” she replied, her voice rich like the honey she was pouring over the bread. “Was there something that you wanted, love?” Helga’s endearments were always readily offered, and visitors to the school never knew who it was she shared a bed with at night. Those who believed opposite attract often assumed it was Salazar while those who believed friendship was the foundation of all good romances assumed it was Godric. Only three visitors to the school ever knew Rowena and Helga slept in Rowena’s tower, together, every night: Nimue, the Lady of the Lake, and Merlin. Merlin was just a young thing, a current student at Hogwarts, but he was an intelligent boy who Godric loved as fiercely as he would his own son. Salazar, of course, couldn’t stand the boy because he was born of muggle parents, but the two female founders could often be found tutoring Merlin behind Godric’s back, trying to teach him all the secrets he would need to keep Hogwarts alive. Since Helena obviously wasn’t the best choice for an heir, the awkward boy from Wales would have to do.
Godric shook his head excitedly and walked through the doorway to sit at the small table next to the fire. A few House-elfs were sitting next to him, busily chopping carrots and celery to put in the stew. He smiled at them and handed them a few pieces of sugar, knowing they valued the sweet, fluffy stuff more than they probably should. “Yes,” stated, tearing his eyes away from Helga’s bum as it swayed back and forth to the tune she was humming. “I have an idea for sorting the students after we’ve all passed on and I think I need your help.”
Helga stopped humming and turned to look at Godric thoughtfully. “Well, that’s awfully morbid,” she observed, absently sucking on the wooden spoon, “Do you think it’s really something we need to address now? I mean, Salazar’s the oldest, and he’s not yet sixty.” For the muggles, sixty was quite old, but witches and wizards lived well into their hundredth year on a regular basis. Salazar claimed it was the magic that kept them alive, but Godric was pretty sure it was simply because magic made life easier, and the easier life was the longer one lived. It was simple logic, really, but Salazar still seemed to find it flawed.
Always stubborn, which Rowena claimed was a flaw and Salazar proclaimed was one of his few redeeming qualities, Godric nodded his head. “Of course we should address it now. One never knows what will happen in the future. If we do it now, at least we can rest assured that the students will be trained in the best way they can long after we’ve been sent out to sea.” Although muggle burials were becoming more and more common within the wizarding world, as anyone who attended a wizarding funeral was often burned at the stake a few days later, Godric knew he wanted to be sent to sea when he died, and he knew the others shared this wish.
Helga stood in front of him for a moment, both hands on her hips, spoon dripping honey onto the floor, and teats sticking out tantalizingly. It was pathetic, how juvenile his thoughts remained despite the years that passed. They were talking about something important, here, and he couldn’t focus on anything other than how delectable Helga looked standing like that. Forcing himself to pay attention, he met Helga’s eyes and listened as she spoke. “I guess you’re right. What did you have in mind? And have you spoken to Rowena or Salazar about this? More importantly, have you spoken to Salazar at all?” Assuring her that he had not spoken to Salazar and that he wanted to run his plan past her before placing it before Rowena for scrutiny, Godric explained how they could use the Hat. Helga, who knew very little about mind charms, didn’t understand much about the abstract aspect of the plan, but she was quite adept at domestic charms, like keeping a hat around for thousands of years, and she was more than happy to be of help.
“It sounds brilliant,” Helga stated as she finished the stew, “Lets us tell Rowena after supper, yes? I’m sure she’ll be thrilled. And then you can go talk to Salazar. Christ knows you need to have a conversation with him before the entire Castle crumbles under the tension.”
:::
“We are not going to use a Hat,” Rowena ranted later that night, safely secured behind a wall of stone and beneath the floors of Hogwarts. She was angry, which was the way Salazar liked her best, and her skin was flushed red. He bit back the emotions the threatened to spill over; the same emotions that always threatened to spill over when Rowena was in the room. Even if he didn’t stand a chance. “I mean, what was he thinking? Was he thinking? Of course he wasn’t thinking. He’s Godric. Thinking is one of those things that happens once in a, in a, in a blue moon! Sal, what are we going to do?”
Salazar knew Godric was right, and he knew fighting about this with the other man would only lead to bigger problems between the two. While he was all about getting ahead, in this case with Rowena’s heart, he wasn’t about to put the school on the line for his own romantic interests, especially when he knew he was bound to fail. “You’re wrong, Rowena,” his tone was characteristically measured, “The Hat is probably the most brilliant idea Godric’s had in his entire life.” There, he gave her the truth and complimented the bastard with one sentence. Feeling particularly proud of himself, Salazar leaned forward and grabbed the younger woman’s hands.
“Rowena, we built such a beautiful school together,” he knew that, despite all her logic, Rowena was fiercely vain, “don’t let our legacy die with us. Make the damned Hat for the love of Lucifer. It isn’t like it’s going to kill you to do it.” He was right, of course, and he knew he was right, but this knowledge didn’t shield him from the pain of having Rowena pulled her hands back when the door latch opened unexpectedly and Godric and Helga strode in.
Helga didn’t notice how close Rowena and Salazar were standing, or if she did she chose not to comment on it. Both women were quite secure in their love for one another, and neither would ever accuse the other of something as banal as adultery. Her voice was light and cheerful when she said, “So, lovelies, have you reached a decision?” As far back as Salazar could remember, Helga referred to him and Rowena as her ‘lovelies’ while Godric was her ‘lion.’ She was undeniably closer to Godric than she was to Salazar, and the parseltongue knew that Rowena had become violently jealous of Godric more than once. She wasn’t jealous because she doubted Helga, of course, but because she was afraid Godric would force himself upon her lover. Helga and Godric were both fiercely, and openly, protective of those they loved, but he and Rowena were jealously protective of the things they believed belonged to them.
Rowena pulled her shoulders back to push herself up to her full height. She looked ominously imposing as she towered above the rest of them, her strong Scottish roots evident in the black midnight of her hair and the burning coal in her eyes. The way she looked right now made Salazar wonder absently about how she would look underneath him, but he knew such thoughts were not going to lead to anywhere productive. He focused on the way her hands seemed to itch for her wand as she began to speak. “We will make the Hat,” she stated, her tone harsh and jagged, like glass shards scattering on marble floors, “And we will make it so it will last forever.” Rowena then smiled at her friends, knowing that they had all been holding their breath as she spoke.
Helga was the first to react. A grin cracked across her face and she threw herself at the taller woman, hugging her fiercely to her buxom breast. “Oh, Ro, I knew you would agree.” She pulled back to kiss her lover full on the lips, something the two rarely allowed others to see, due to the stigma placed upon same-sex relationships. Godric visibly flinched as the two women locked lips, and Salazar knew his old friend was in pain, watching the love of his life kiss another woman. Salazar, who was much better at hiding his emotions, only allowed his hand to twitch painfully before he pulled out his wand and made a fire, if only because it gave him something to do. Finally, the two broke apart and Helga, at least, had the grace to look bashful. Rowena didn’t. She simply stood there, smiling, and called for one of the House-elfs to pour them ale. Tonight, of all nights, was a night to celebrate.
As Salazar watched his three friends interact while he remained silent, he became painfully aware that he and Godric weren’t talking, and he wasn’t entirely sure they would ever speak to one another again.
:::
“Maybe if I rework the charms on the threading it’ll be able to withstand the insects?” Helga was painfully distraught. Rowena had finally finished the theoretical planning for how to make the Hat intelligent enough to judge which House each student belonged to. Godric, ever the jester, placed a few choice spells on the Hat that would allow it to challenge their spirits to sing a song every year in aid of the current generation. Salazar, who remained practical to a fault, placed more protective spells than all three of the others combined knew on the Hat in order to protect it from sources of evil and from muggles who hoped to destroy the school. Everyone had done their part in the creation of the new Hat, everyone besides Helga.
Secretly, Helga believed they were all expecting her to fall short of what the job required. Although she was always trying to better her spellcrafting abilities, when push came to shove the only things she was excellent at were cooking spells and domestic care. It was embarrassing, really, to have Godric be a genius with spells and Rowena be the “brightest witch of her age,” according to Jack Black, one of the most prominent members of wizarding England, and Salazar be overtly gifted in animal care and potion, while she was barely above average in all of these disciplines. Ever Lady Gryffindor, Godric’s wife, was well-versed in divination and arithmancy with an unnatural talent for runes. It was unnerving, to be surrounded by such talent all the time and never be able to compare. Not that she thought the others didn’t love and respect her, she knew they did, she just couldn’t understand why.
“This is hopeless,” Helga finally conceded, holding the Hat up at an arm’s length, “Surely someone else would be better at this? I’m sure we can find someone better at household charms than I am.” Obviously, there was no one within the castle that had her skill, but she was sure a local witch or wizard would know how to work with cloth much better than she could. Becoming frustrated with her own inability, the distraught witch flung the Hat across the room and watched with satisfaction as it fluttered to the ground.
Rowena looked on from her place on the floor, reading a parchment by firelight. “El, dear, you’re being completely unreasonable. We all know there is no one on earth quite as skilled with domestic magic as you are.” It was a compliment, but one Helga refused to accept because Rowena was her lover, and of course she would compliment her. Helga still blushed prettily under the compliment, despite swearing she was immune to Rowena’s compliments by now. They had been together for a little over thirty years, and Helga was there the night a village squire forced himself upon Rowena and impregnated her. They had gone through everything together, and Helga knew that, if anyone could help her find the strength to figure out the cloth problem, it would be the raven haired beauty beside her.
“I just hate not knowing what I’m doing wrong,” Helga stated, her eyes beseeching Rowena for help. The taller woman rose from her seat on the floor and strode over to where the Hat had landed. She picked it up and dusted it off and handed it to her lover absently. Then, she turned back around and headed towards the door. “Where are you going?” Helga asked, not believing that Rowena would abandon her in that moment.
Rowena turned gracefully and smiled. “I know absolutely nothing about domestic charms, El,” the taller woman confessed, “If you want help, ask the House-elfs, but then you taught them all they know.” Rowena paused for a moment, pulled on her tight braids and shrugged, “I guess you’ll just have to rely on yourself, my darling, I’ll be in our bed when you are done.” It was an incentive Helga knew Rowena knew would work, and so she was not surprised when the Scottish lass smiled coquettishly as she closed the door behind her. Helga pulled out her wand and sighed in frustration, it was going to be a long night, but she was determined to finish the Hat and have her way with Rowena before the sun rose.
:::
The Sorting Hat was completed late in June, just in time to be tested on the new batch of students that would arrive in August or September, as soon as the harvest was over. Rowena was quite pleased with the outcome of their endeavor, even if she hadn’t been fully supportive in the beginning. She had to hand it to Godric, he sure came through for them when it came to the future of the school, and Rowena knew Hogwarts was the most important thing in the world to him, even more than his love for Helga. Yes, she knew about that, despite being called emotionless and frigid by many of her students, Rowena was not blind enough to miss the blatant looks of adoration Godric smothered Helga with whenever he had the chance. Rowena felt intensely sorry for Eliza Gryffindor, who seemed to truly love her husband despite the obvious unrequited state of her affection.
“Oh, Ro, I’m so glad we finished it,” Helga gushed as they tested the Hat out for the first time. It was humorous to watch the poor thing mull over where Salazar belonged, as he was obviously more brave than he was ambitious at times, which meant he wasn’t entirely meant for his own house. The other three were obvious caricatures of the traits they valued most, and Rowena was more than happy to pronounce this experiment a success. She was writing about the experiment in one of her scrolls and hoped to give it to Merlin when he left the school next year to go study healing and magical music on the Isle of Avalon, where Helga’s cousin, Nimue, taught.
Rowena nodded her head and pulled her lover close to her. She loved seeing Helga happy, and she was glad that Salazar had been able to talk her into accepting Godric’s suggestion. The two men were standing apart from them at the moment. They were talking to each other for the first time in months. Rowena was glad that the Hat had finally brought them together, because the castle was literally falling apart under the tension the two of them created. She watched the two of them hug and smile, although Salazar’s seemed slightly broken and Godric’s seemed completely false. She leaned close to Helga and whispered warningly, “I think we’re going to be faced with a storm.” Helga shook her head and set her face determinedly.
“No,” Helga replied, her voice uncharacteristically firm, “They won’t break. We’re too strong to break.” Rowena watched as the two men walked over to them and smiled warmly. “You’re right,” Rowena confessed as the men walked past, “We’re too strong to break,” she paused to let the words sink in, “We’re going to shatter. “
Rowena and Helga looked out into the sunrise and watched the light catch upon the skin of their giant pet squid. They knew the end was drawing near; they were growing apart and growing older, but they saw Godric and Salazar stop and look out upon the sun and they knew that, despite the future, this one moment would last forever.