Mod note: this is by far the longest story in the exchange - over 25000 words - and stretches over three posts.
Gift for:
hayseed_42Author:
vanityfair00Title: Don’t Tickle A Sleeping Dragon
Characters: Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, OFC
Rating: PG - PG-13
Summary: Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor set out to find adventure. But during their quest to rid the countryside of an evil dragon, they meet with a woman who might just steal their hearts instead.
Notes: I’ve always been a bit of an overachiever, but I have really outdone myself this time. Though, I’ll admit right now that this is a poorly researched fic. I consulted the timelines at the Lexicon and that’s it.
Chapter One
Over a thousand years ago the four greatest witches and wizards of the age came together to form Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - a place they envisioned where children for generations to come could come and learn the finer points of the magical arts. But Salazar Slytherin soon left, unable to agree on the policy of accepting Muggle-borns at the prestigious school.
Most today believe his hatred and prejudice against Muggles, which were indeed great, prompted this decision, but the truth is there was a much deeper reason.
Love.
Yes, dear friend, you’ve read that correctly. But perhaps we should start at the beginning.
A knock at the door and a visit amongst friends is where our tale begins in a shabby old shack in the midst of the fen…
“Who is it?” Salazar Slytherin stood at his workbench hunched over a smoking cauldron. Piles of parchments, quills, and pots of inks lay strewn about, and he alternated between cutting and adding ingredients to his brew to reading and consulting his copious notes.
The door swung open, and the sudden sunlight made him squint. A dark shadow of a man stood in the doorway.
“Godric Gryffindor, come with a quest for you,” he said grandly with sweeping arms and a booming voice.
Salazar just looked at him, irritated, and went back to his reading. “Oh, it’s you. You don’t happen to read Hebrew, do you?” He couldn’t be sure if that was one pim or two he was supposed to add.
“That’s the way you greet your oldest and bestest of friends?” Godric asked, feigning hurt.
Salazar scowled. “When he’s interrupting important work, then yes.” It had to be exactly the right amount. Too little would make it too acidic, and too much and it could explode.
“But I have more important work. I want you to come dragon hunting with me.” It sounded like another one of his friend’s hare brained schemes meant to make them a fortune, but more often had them scrambling to stay alive and on the run from mobs of angry Muggles. Not that escaping Muggles was hard, but Manticores were an altogether different matter.
“What’s in it for me?”
“Fame, fortune, and eternal glory,” he listed.
“Don’t forget singed eyebrows and a brush with death,” Salazar added. He pushed past Godric to get to the shelves that lined the walls, searching through the many vials and containers there until he found what he was looking for. He held it up to the light to make sure it was still fresh and then took it back over to his workbench, measuring it out carefully.
“But think of the fun we’ll have.”
“I’m busy,” he said with a wave of his hand.
“Still working on the Philosopher’s Stone?”
“I’m so close. I have it this time. You just wait,” he persisted. He talked into his cauldron, keeping his focus on the bubbling brew. A pinch more of the rosewood should do it. He rubbed it between his fingers, felt each tiny grain, and then dropped it in. Holding his breath, he waited.
“There are easier ways to get gold, Salazar,” Godric argued. He pulled out his sword and swung it round a few times, slaying imaginary dragons, no doubt.
“Careful!” Salazar could just imagine him hitting one of the shelves and knocking every precious ingredient to the floor. Although if he got this potion right, he would have enough gold to replace them all and then some.
“Maybe you should stir it,” his friend offered, using the weapon as a pointer.
“Put that thing away now,” he demanded even as he reached for a spoon. It hadn’t reacted yet. He expected something would have happened by now.
BOOM!
Green goo splattered the walls. Shards of metal tore through the air. The thatched roof burst into flames and the north wall crumbled under the force of the impact. The two men fell to the floor. Salazar cowered under the work bench with only his arms to protect his head. He wanted to cry. Months and months of work and it was gone in an instant. Picking up a chunk of what used to be his cauldron, he threw it in Godric’s direction. If only he hadn’t been here to distract him, he might have gotten it right this time.
“Sorry,” he heard Gryffindor mumble as he dug himself out from under a heavy roof timber. Salazar reached for his wand and helped his friend out by levitating the heavy wood beam up far enough so he could wiggle free. He resisted the urge to leave him there. He certainly deserved it.
“When do we leave?” he asked, standing and brushing himself off. How dejected he must look and sound. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.
“You’ve changed your mind?” Godric stood up, his thick hair in his face. His blue eyes shone even more brightly contrasted with the black soot that stained his cheeks.
Salazar shrugged his shoulders, trying hard to look nonchalant. “That was my last cauldron.”
****
Three days later, the two friends journeyed north. The sun shone brightly, streaming through the trees that shadowed their path. Adventure and possible fortune lay before them, leaving bitter disappointment farther and farther behind.
“You couldn’t have afforded horses for us?” Salazar complained, shifting his pack on his back. His shoulders burned at the weight of it despite his effort to lighten it that morning. He mourned the loss of his notebooks, but he couldn’t carry them any farther.
“We don’t have the gold yet, my friend,” Godric answered, cheerfully swinging his sword to cut the stray branches that crowded the worn path through the woods.
“Surely your father could have loaned us a pair. Maybe a donkey to carry the packs.” He shifted his again. It was useless. There was no comfortable position for it.
“He needs them for the fields,” Godric said. He turned back and looked at Salazar, his features full of concern. “Are you sure you don’t want to stop at your family’s estate?”
Salazar nodded, wincing at the term ‘estate’. A crumbling castle held together with magic surrounded by lands going to waste because his father wasn’t interested in farming them hardly counted as an estate.
He was sure about bypassing it. There was nothing there for him. He had been one of too many, his mother overrun by her brood while his father stayed in his study, tinkering with potions and inventing useless charms. He had left when he was sixteen, determined to make something of the Slytherin name, a name that wizards everywhere would respect.
“Where is this dragon of yours?” he asked again. He already knew the answer, but he didn’t want Godric asking about his family. His parents didn’t dote on each other like the Gryffindors did. Nor did Godric have eleven brothers and four sisters competing for the love and attention of his parents.
Something rustled in the bushes. Probably a rabbit, Salazar surmised.
“Just north of here,” Godric answered. “He’s sitting in a cave with piles and piles of gold he’s stolen from the local lords. Who knows, he might have a pretty maiden or two up there.”
“We’re better off with the gold,” Salazar muttered. His luck with women was dubious at best, and with Godric around it became nonexistent. His sharp angular face, dark hair and beady eyes couldn’t compare to his friend’s blond waves, blue eyes, and sturdy build.
“I always knew you were a miser, but a monk too!” Godric exclaimed. Salazar frowned. He wasn’t a monk; he just hadn’t found a girl who could capture his interest.
“You know we wouldn’t have to walk the entire way if you would just learn to Apparate.” He shifted his pack again, but it was useless. There was no comfortable position for it. Months of brewing potions had left him ill prepared for a cross-country trek.
“We wouldn’t have to walk if you would consider learning to use a broomstick,” Godric retorted. Salazar grimaced.
“I refuse to sit on one of those things for hours on end. I’d rather walk.” The recent trend for using brooms for transportation rather than sweeping boggled his mind. He had heard tales of men in distant lands using carpets, and then there was his father who had suggested butter churns, and none of them sounded like wise ideas when compared to the ease of Apparition.
“Then stop complaining.”
There was that noise again, a rustle in the bushes. Salazar put his hand up, motioning to Godric to stop. They halted.
“What are you doing?”
“Sshh,” Salazar hissed. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Another rustle. Godric tilted his head and Salazar could see that he heard this time. Pulling out his wand, he pointed it at the bushes. Godric gripped his sword tighter, ready to pounce on anything that might bound out of the bushes.
“Come out of there,” he demanded. He hoped he was wrong, that it was just a rabbit or a lost Muggle, but he got the feeling it was something much worse. This forest was full of Dark magical creatures.
“State your purpose and business for being in these woods,” a voice said with an imperious air. It belonged to a girl, whose head became visible over the foliage as she stood up. Her hair was a tangled mess of dark brown curls and she wore a dark green dress that matched her eyes. “And for goodness' sakes, put that thing down. Are you planning on protecting yourself by poking me with a stick?”
“We’re just humble travelers, milady,” Godric said, bowing elegantly. He sheathed his sword and stepped forward, wanting to kiss her hand no doubt. Salazar remained where he stood, his wand still pointed at this eavesdropper, his stare never faltering.
“That’s not what I heard. I heard that you two are dragon hunters,” she said, meeting his stare.
“You heard wrong,” Salazar said.
“These are my father’s lands. I can turn you over to him or you can take me with you on your quest. It’s your decision.” She crossed her arms over her chest and tipped her nose up in the air, waiting for their answer. Salazar glanced over at Godric, who stood agape. They had never before encountered such a woman.
“You want to go dragon hunting?” Godric asked with disbelief.
“I want some adventure,” she nearly growled. She dropped her arms, but Salazar noticed that she clenched her fists in frustration. “I’m tired of sitting in a tower waiting for the men to come home while I embroider pillows. It isn’t fair.”
“Life isn’t fair,” he told her, dropping his wand. This girl, trying to play at being a man and an adventurer, posed no threat. She only wasted their time. He started to walk away, leaving her and Godric behind. His retreat only made her angrier.
“I’ll turn you in. You have to eat somehow which means you’re poaching. You know what they do to poachers?” she asked desperately, trailing after Salazar. “You have two choices. Have your hand cut off or take me with you.”
“Or tie you up and leave you here,” he said, whipping around, his wand in hand. Ropes jumped out of its end and coiled around her tightly. She let out a surprised shriek and fell to the ground writhing like a worm on a fishhook. He tried to suppress a smile, but failed miserably at the sound of her cursing at him.
“You bastard! You whoreson! Let me up this instant! I demand that you set me free!”
“We can’t just leave her here,” Godric said, coming up next to him. He looked down at her with pity.
Pity they couldn’t afford, Salazar thought. “We can’t take her with us either.”
“What do we do then?” Before Salazar could answer that it wasn’t their concern if the little harpy was found by wolves or bandits, a sharp crack sounded out. A large branch tumbled down from overhead, knocking Salazar to the ground. He tried pushing it off, but the collar of his shirt felt tighter, making it very hard to breathe.
“She’s burning through the ropes,” Godric exclaimed. He had jumped out of the way of the falling branch and was now too engrossed in their prisoner to pay attention to Salazar’s struggles.
“St-stun her,” he gasped.
“What?” Godric looked horrified at the thought of hurting a woman. Salazar was going to hurt him if he ever got out from underneath this branch. He clawed at his neck, trying to catch his breath.
“St-stun her,” he repeated, his voice raspy and hoarse. The girl had managed to free herself of Salazar’s ropes and stumbled to her feet. Even from where he lay, ten feet away, he could feel the spark of energy that surrounded her. What was more troubling was the angry glint in her eye. She came closer.
He pointed his wand and rasped out, “Stupefy!” The moment she crumpled to the ground, the tightness in his chest eased and he could breathe again. He pushed aside the branch that pinned him to the ground, standing up and brushing himself off.
“What did you do?” Godric asked.
“What you should have done, you idiot! She was killing me.”
“But how?” He rushed over to where she had fallen. Carefully, he maneuvered her onto her back, pushing the hair from her face. Salazar stayed back, his wand still out just in case. Godric finally retrieved his own wand from his sleeve and woke her.
“You act like you’ve never seen a witch in your life,” Salazar said. The girl’s eyes fluttered open and she coughed as Godric put one arm around her and helped her to sitting.
“I am not a witch,” she sputtered. She leaned against Godric’s chest even as she stared murderously at Salazar.
“No Muggle could do what you just did,” he argued.
“He’s right,” Godric said in soothing tones. “You displayed a raw talent for magic just then. Remind me not to make you angry again anytime soon.”
“But does that mean you’re…”
“Wizards,” Salazar finished for her. Her brow furrowed in consternation and she turned to Godric who nodded. She stilled for a long moment, trying to work out in her head all the odd coincidences throughout the years that could be attributed to her having magical abilities.
“And what’s a Muggle?”
“Someone without magic,” Godric explained.
“Certainly not you,” Salazar spat. “You nearly killed me just now.”
“Teach me,” she whispered. Godric looked at him, looked at him with the same look he always did when he wanted Salazar to do something he knew was stupid, like try to breed Manticores, or hunt for treasure guarded by dragons, and now bringing along an untrained witch with a temper.
“This is ludicrous!” he protested, dropping his wand and shooting a pleading glance in Godric’s direction. But he knew it was useless. Godric was already telling her the many different spells he could teach her. She grew more and more excited with each one as he helped her to her feet, his arm still at her waist to steady her.
“But I don’t even know your names,” she said a few moments later. Salazar resisted pointing out that it hadn’t mattered one whit what their names were when she had insisted on following them into danger.
“Godric Gryffindor at you service, milady,” his friend said with a bow. He kissed her knuckles, making her blush.
Looking up at him expectantly, Salazar muttered, “You can call me Slytherin.”
“And I’m Amy. Shall we be going?” And then she started down the path in front of them, the green fabric of her dress blending in with the trees around her. She looked almost like a forest sprite. A few yards ahead, she turned around with an impatient glance. Godric trotted to catch up while Salazar gritted his teeth. He could already tell that there was nothing but trouble ahead.
Chapter Two
They walked for hours before finding a clearing and settling in for the night. Amy surprised Salazar by not talking too much, though she looked uncomfortable about the prospect of sleeping on the ground.
“There are no inns nearby?” she asked as Godric spread out his bedroll.
“Adventurers don’t stay in inns,” Salazar said with only a hint of sarcasm. She scowled at him, saving her smiles for Godric when he Conjured another bedroll for her. His poor taste extended to including flowery embroidery on the edges.
Shaking his head in disgust, Salazar set about starting a fire and getting some food. A few waves of his wand later, the flames licked at three plates of roasted chicken.
“B-but how did you do that?” Amy asked, her mouth hanging open.
“Magic,” Salazar answered.
“My mother is an excellent cook. She makes us dinner, sets it aside, and then Salazar makes it appear here. We warm it up and eat it. So, not poachers after all, eh?” Godric explained, reaching for a greasy chicken leg. He bit into it with the enthusiasm of a starving dog. Even the presence of a woman wasn’t enough to remind him of his manners. Amy picked at her own delicately, taking a few leaves to wipe her fingers in between bites.
“How did you know you were wizards?” she asked. Salazar studied her face in the dimming light. Her curiosity was unmasked and genuine. He imagined it must have been horrible to grow up and never know what she was; only that she was different.
“Our parents taught us magic. It varies from household to household on how much or little a person is taught.” he said.
“What happens to people like me, those of us who don’t have magical parents?”
“They either learn on their own or they never do,” Godric said, stretching his legs out.
Amy’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ as she nodded. “Will you show me?”
Godric scooted closer and pulled out his wand. “We’ll start with something easy, Wingardium Leviosa.” An apple rose out of his pack and bobbed in the air. Salazar watched with a bored expression.
“Here, you try,” Godric said, handing her the wand. The apple fell to the ground with a thump. He slid closer, taking her wrist and showing her the movements. “Swish and flick, that’s it, you have it. Now say the words.”
“Windium Levosa,” Amy tried, mangling the spell. The apple stayed on the ground. Half an hour later it hovered for a few seconds , but it didn’t stay there long.
“Are you sure I’m a witch?” she asked, looking dejected. Godric tried to be reassuring, putting his arm around her shoulder.
“A wand is peculiar to its owner,” he explained. Salazar tried not to gag at his patronizing tone and manner. Godric never could turn down an attentive female. And they swarmed to him like bears to honey. He laid back on his bedroll and closed his eyes.
“Watch this,” he heard Godric whisper. Whipping out his wand from his sleeve, he quickly cast a Shielding Charm. Godric’s spell bounced off it and hit him instead. Peals of laughter rang out. Salazar sat up and opened his eyes to see Godric writhing around from a Tickling Charm. Amy stared in horror.
Salazar smirked and lay back down. He wondered if she still wanted adventures now. He couldn’t help but hope she wouldn’t be there when he woke in the morning.
****
But when he woke up, she was still there. In fact, her nose was inches from his, her eyes staring down into his.
“Good morning,” she chirped. He pushed her away.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Seeing if you’re ready to go. There are adventures to be had today.” Salazar scowled, rubbing ay his eyes. He was not a morning person. A curse hovered on the edge of his tongue, but Godric prevented him from using it.
“I need your help, Amy,” he said, beckoning her away from Salazar. She hurried over, anxious to prove her usefulness. He set her to work rolling up the beds with a wink in Salazar’s direction. It took three seconds to clean up camp with a wand, but letting her do it would keep her out of their hair. They abandoned their camp an hour later. Salazar trailed behind the other two, trying to stay out of earshot while Godric occupied Amy by telling her the history of magic, with stories about Egyptian pharaohs and Merlin.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked Godric, skipping along next to him while they marched on. Salazar wondered at her energy, though she was missing the twenty-pound pack on her back.
“Doing what?”
“Why are you on this mission to fight this dragon?”
“It’s killing peasants and stealing from lords. Someone has to stop it,” Godric answered.
“Why you?” she asked.
Godric opened his mouth to answer, Salazar surmised it was something like what his friend had used to convince him into this crazy quest, but he interrupted. “Because Godric Gryffindor has never met a creature he didn’t want to slay. And then there’s the gold.”
“But it doesn’t belong to you,” Amy argued.
“It doesn’t belong to the dragon either.” He looked at her suspiciously. “Is that why you’re here? Have you lost your pearl necklace and you suspect a fire-breathing monster made away with it?”
“No, but they have stolen priceless treasures from my father” she said, becoming defensive. The cut and material of her dress along with her haughty manner told him she came from noble breeding, but this all but confirmed his suspicions. He knew why he ran away from home but he wondered why a noblewoman would be running away. He doubted they had much in common.
“Why are you here, Mr. Slytherin?”
Salazar glanced over at Godric. “I need the gold to continue my potions experiments. And I seem incapable of saying no to any hare-brained idea he presents me with.”
Godric flashed him a toothy grin that he returned with a scowl. He really couldn’t say no to him. He had met the young Gryffindor in a rowdy pub, not long after he had run away from home. Salazar didn’t have the same silver tongue his friend had, or the same silver sword, and when he had gotten himself into a bit of trouble, Godric had come to his aid. They had been friends ever since.
“You’ve fought other dragons?” Amy asked, sounding very impressed. Godric shook his head and regaled her with their other adventures. They sounded like so much fun when told later, Salazar realized, but he had only experienced unadulterated fear when they faced that Manticore. Lagging behind, he let Godric occupy the ever-increasing curiosity of Amy. His stories led him to a quick lesson about magical creatures.
When they stopped to lunch, he watched as Godric foolishly tried to teach her more spells, borrowing Salazar’s wand since his was too volatile in her hands.
“Ex-pel-li-ar-mus,” he sounded out. Amy’s tongue tripped over the syllables with disastrous results, setting fire to a small bush in front of her.
Salazar laughed to himself. Teaching a fully-grown woman who had questionable magical abilities defensive spells was a waste of time in his opinion. Muggle-borns were better off not knowing of their magical abilities in his opinion. Prejudices ran high among Muggles concerning witches and wizards and an untrained witch couldn’t defend herself against the pitchforks and torches. She was asking for trouble if she ever decided to return home.
“Now you try,” Godric said. He counted to three and threw the curse at her. She doubled over laughing. Casting the countercharm, he had her try again.
This time, she disappeared before the Itching Jinx hit her. Godric looked around frantically. “What happened?”
Salazar just shrugged. But then he heard laughter floating down from above. Looking above, he saw Amy sitting precariously on a branch high in the trees.
“The view is amazing!” she shouted down at them.
“How exactly do you plan on getting down?” Salazar asked, but nature answered him before she could. A loud crack sounded out and Amy screamed as she tumbled down. Godric’s pointed his wand at her and slowed her descent. She was breathing hard when she landed, but there was a smile on her face.
“That was quite an adventure,” she said.
“Did you hit your head?” Godric asked, rushing over. Salazar shook his head, suddenly understanding her motivations.
“That’s why you ran away, isn’t it? You can only perform magic when you’re in danger. Sitting and sewing never gave you that tingling rush of power. Well, you can put yourself in danger, we don’t need any.” She cocked her head and surveyed him.
“You’re dragon hunters and you want to avoid danger? I think you’re in the wrong profession then,” she retorted, standing to her feet. She dusted off her dress, and then turned her face up to glare at him.
“We won’t be needing any extra when we have a dragon breathing fire down on us,” he answered, raising his voice. He stepped closer, using his height to intimidate her, but if anything it only incensed her more.
“You just said my magic thrives in dangerous situations. I would think I would be an asset rather than a hindrance in that case.” Her face twisted with anger and she raised her voice to match his own. Godric stood to the side, saying nothing, just watching the two argue.
“Your magic is unpredictable. We can’t rely on you to do anything. You should go home to your mother and paint your screens.” He stepped even closer and so did she. They were nose to nose now.
“I embroidered pillows,” she said, her eyes narrowing.
“Whatever,” he spat.
Suddenly, she turned and walked away. He thought he had won, but then she spoke again, softer this time. “I can’t,” she said, sounding small and defeated.
“Why not?” Godric asked, going to her. He never could resist comforting a distressed damsel. Just like he couldn’t say no to hunting down a dragon. With him as a best friend, Salazar would never rid himself of this girl. He especially didn’t like the way he put his arm around her shoulder.
“My father thinks I was kidnapped by the dragon,” she confessed.
“Why would he think that?” Godric asked, though Salazar thought the answer was pretty obvious.
“It might have been the ransom note he found shortly after I left.” Tears shone in her eyes and she sniffled a little. Godric was completely taken in by this new desperate Amy, but Salazar wasn’t so easily fooled.
“Dragons can write?” he asked skeptically.
She glared at him, breaking her act for a moment. “My father isn’t the brightest. But he knows what I’m worth. Whoever brings me back will be rewarded greatly,” she said, turning towards Godric and taking his hand in hers, whose eyes shone with pleasure. He could almost see, bobbing around in his head, visions of his friend marrying a nobleman’s daughter and building a castle from the gold they would find. He had to put a stop to this once and for all.
Salazar strode over to them and grabbed Amy by the arm, pulling her away from Godric. “We can scorch your dress, muss up your hair, and send you home to tell of your great escape, leaving us wizards to fight the real dragon.”
She ripped her arm from his grasp. “You’ll do no such thing. I am coming with you. If you’re so worried about my magic then you can teach me. I can learn.”
“You’re too old,” he protested. “You should have started your training years ago.” She really did look desperate this time, reaching out and clinging to Salazar’s chest. She looked up at him with such beseeching eyes that he almost lost himself in their depths.
“Please,” she pleaded. “I can’t go back there.” Salazar considered it for a moment, imagining what it must be like to be a witch amongst Muggles. To sense that one was special but never really understand why or how. And then to learn what it was that set you apart…he wouldn’t want to go back either.
“Only,” he said, twisting out of her grip, “if you can cast this spell right-prove to me you can learn a simple defensive charm.”
He grabbed her wrist and shoved the wand into her hand. “Like this,” he said, moving her wrist in the proper movement. “Now say the words,” he demanded.
The moment the words left her mouth, a spark of energy burst through Salazar’s chest, traveling down his arm and out the tip of the wand. Godric’s wand leapt from his hand, and the blast of the spell threw him back against the tree trunk behind him. He blinked in surprise, rubbing at his head.
“I think you’ve got it,” he said dazed.
Salazar let go of Amy. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it and took a step back. He hadn’t been prepared for the pure rush of power.
“That was…” she said, trailing off. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open. Her hair stood up on end. She looked as surprised and in awe as Salazar felt.
“Amazing,” he finished.
“So I’m coming with you?”
Salazar stared at her, a hard look in his eye. He didn’t want to take her. But he liked the power he felt. If they could harness that then she would be an asset, he admitted begrudgingly.
“Don’t complain to me if you get eaten by a dragon,” he said, plucking his wand from her hand and stalking off.
“I won’t!” she called after him. The smile in her voice made him cringe. Why did he get the feeling he was going to regret ever agreeing to any of this?
****
After dinner that night, they sat round the fire. Amy stared into the crackling flames, mesmerized by the dancing reds and oranges. Godric transfigured a fallen branch into a guitar of sorts and was attempting to pick out a melody, while Salazar took out his knife-a family heirloom and the only thing he had taken from home when he left-and carved a small piece of wood. It was meant to be a figurine but it looked more like a lump of wood than anything else at the moment.
“I do seek out danger in an attempt to provoke my magic,” she confessed with no prompting. Salazar looked up at her. She kept her gaze focused on the fire as she continued on.
“It happened the first time when I was seven. We had a swing in the stables that we played on. The rope snapped while I was on it. I should have broken my neck, but instead I just bounced. I took to jumping off things for months after that, until one time it didn’t work and I broke my wrist.”
Godric raised his head, stopping his playing. She told her tale without pause.
“When I was twelve a horse tried to throw me. Somehow, I disappeared from his back to the safety of my bed. I thought it had been a dream until my mother came in hysterical, convinced I was dead.”
“At thirteen, my father held a banquet. My mother insisted that I wear this horrendous dress. On the night of the party, it mysteriously disappeared and in its place was a lovely pink satin-like something out of my daydreams.”
“I always felt different. My grandmother told my mother early on that I was a product of the devil. I grew up hearing that, and sometimes I even believed it. Last week, I decided that I had had enough. I left. I imagine there weren’t too many tears shed at my disappearance.” She bit her lip, and Salazar could see that her eyes glistened.
“The first time I did magic I was five. I wanted the toy my brother was playing with. One minute it was in his hand and in the next it flew across the room into mine,” Godric said.
“I set my older sister’s hair on fire,” Salazar stated. Amy looked at him shocked. “She was pinching me,” he said in his defense.
“What will you do with the gold?” Amy asked, changing the subject. Salazar was glad for the switch. This was much easier to discuss than painful childhoods. He had been afraid that if she kept talking, he might be compelled to share his own stories of neglect and an absentee father.
“Haven’t thought about it,” Godric answered, looking up from his playing. “We have to find and kill the dragon first.”
“You mean you’re risking your life and you don’t know why?” She sounded exasperated, and Salazar wondered what her reasons were. She said she wanted adventures. And she had mentioned being left in a tower to sew. Was there someone who had tried locking her away? He smiled at the idiot who tried to contain her. It was too big a job. She was more force of nature than she was woman.
“For the glory of it. People for miles around won’t soon forget the name Godric Gryffindor when I slay the dragon.” Salazar cleared his throat and glared at his friend. “Or the Slytherin name for that matter,” he added sheepishly.
“And what about you?” Amy turned and asked Salazar. He shrugged, not bothering to look up from his carving. Not that he hadn’t thought about it. Like Godric, he wanted the respect that would come with success. It was why he had left his home in the first place. The gold would help him live comfortably while he brewed potions. It might even be enough to tempt a good-looking woman into his bed. What more did a man need?
She accepted his answer with as little grace as Godric’s, harrumphing a bit to show her disapproval, but she said nothing more. They sat in silence, listening to the crackling of the fire and the random notes Godric picked out on the guitar. They never quite melded into a recognizable tune, but they were hypnotic nonetheless.
“What about a school?” Both men looked at her.
“A school?” Godric asked.
“Yes, for magical children. You complained earlier that the standard of teaching varies from household to household and Muggle-borns like me don’t ever get the chance to learn. If there was a school they could attend, higher standards could be set and achieved.”
“A school?” Salazar repeated. The idea seemed…preposterous. And it implied much more work and frustration than hiding away with his cauldrons like he planned to do.
“You want glory? No one is going to remember in twenty, thirty years the name of two men who slew a dragon. Can you tell me who killed the monster of Loch Ness? No. But the founders of a school? Your names would be passed down from generation to generation. You would be immortal.”
Now that had an appeal, Salazar relented. He liked the idea of children learning his name. The teachers would hold him up as a paragon of respectability and admiration. Children would aspire to be like him.
“I didn’t think anyone had killed the Loch Ness monster,” Godric said. Salazar wondered where it ranked on his list of creatures to seek out and destroy with his silver sword. His friend liked nothing better than taking on angry vicious beasts.
“You’re missing the point,” Amy insisted.
“I don’t know…” Godric trailed off. Salazar sensed that a school didn’t seem exciting enough for him.
“You’re both very good teachers,” Amy said. “You could teach defensive spells,” she told Godric.
“And what about me?” Salazar asked, interested to hear what her answer would be after their afternoon lesson. He had been the one to teach her the spells, not Godric. With him as her teacher, she had ended up falling from the top of a tree and setting a bush on fire. She blushed, but Godric saved her from answering.
“Potions of course.”
“Of course,” he replied.
“And you would want someone to teach other things as well. You mentioned being able to turn things into other things, change the shapes of objects…”
“Transfiguration,” Godric supplied.
“Yes, and Charms, and-“
“Herbology,” Salazar filled in. “If I’m to teach Potions, I’ll expect my students to know what plants are what.”
“So you’ll do it?” Amy squealed. The sound of it grated at Salazar’s nerves, but he couldn’t help but smile at the enthusiasm on her face.
“We have to find and kill the dragon first,” Godric said, picking back up his guitar. Amy’s face fell at his nonchalance, and Salazar found himself comforting her.
“We’ll think on it,” he promised her, telling himself that it was only because he wanted her to shut up on the subject that he said anything at all. Her smile returned at his words, and she didn’t say anything else. He went back to his carving, but he couldn’t help but watch as her eyes began to droop. After half an hour, Godric finally finished with his songs and declared that they should get some rest.
Salazar agreed, but even after trekking for miles through the forest with his pack on his back and all the extensive magic of the afternoon, he found sleep hard to find. He kept thinking about Amy’s idea about a school.
Chapter Three
The next day commenced with another magic lesson with Amy. Salazar watched as Godric tried in vain to coax a decent spell from her. After a handful of failed attempts, he decided to step in and take over.
“I think it’s apparent that you won’t be teaching Charms in our future endeavor as educators,” Salazar said with a smirk. He took the wand from Amy’s hand.
“Let’s start with something easy.” She furrowed her brow, but let him step closer. He stood behind her, taking her wrist in his hand like he had the day before. Directing her hand, he lit a blue flame fire. The intensity of their combined power wasn’t as overwhelming as it had been the other day, but it was still a heady feeling. Amy jumped back in surprise, colliding with his chest.
“A fire!” she exclaimed.
“Yes, very useful for things like cooking and staying warm,” he said. She turned around and frowned at him. “Now you try.” He handed her the wand. She repeated the words and wand movements. A fire burst out of the end of the wand, but she hadn’t been watching where the wand had been pointed. Salazar’s sleeve lit afire. He shook his arm frantically.
“Excellent,” he said sarcastically as he beat out the flames. He scowled at the blackened fabric.
“Thank you,” she said with a cheeky grin.
“Just watch where you point that thing,” he said, pointing to the wand.
****
The third day, she mastered some more Defensive spells. Both Godric and Salazar agreed that they should start with spells that would keep her safe while traveling with them. She hardly needed some housekeeping charms marching through the forest on the way to kill a deadly dragon.
“No, like this,” he instructed her. Her wand movements continued to be sloppy, and Salazar blamed it on her late start. She tried again. Godric, standing a short distance away, bent over, a cry escaping his lips. Amy looked over at Salazar with a mixture of pride and concern on her face. Salazar grabbed the wand and reversed the spell.
“So?” he asked.
“That hurt!” Godric exclaimed.
“I’d say you’ve mastered that one,” he told Amy. She sighed in relief, a smile creeping over her face.
“I’ve learned another one,” she told him. Salazar looked to Godric who tried hard to look innocent but failed. “Can I show you?” He nodded. She took the wand back from him and cast a fire. It floated in front of their faces-blue flames in the shape of a bell. This time she managed to create it out of thin air rather than Salazar’s sleeve.
“I’ve already seen that one,” Salazar said.
“But not this one-Augamenti,” she said. Water shot out of the tip of the wand, extinguishing the flame. Salazar raised an eyebrow. He was impressed. In just a short time, she showed quite a lot of potential. It was a shame she had been born into a Muggle family. If she had started earlier, she could have been on her way to being a powerful witch.
“Very good.”
“Thank you,” she said, turning to face him. But she forgot to release the spell, and as she did so water shot into Salazar’s face. Godric let out a loud guffaw. Amy shook the wand, but water continued to pour out, wetting the rest of Salazar. His hand shot out and grabbed the wand from her.
“You are starting to irritate me,” Salazar spat, trying to shake off the water. Rivulets dripped down his nose. His tunic and trousers were soaked and the wetness seeped into his shoes.
“Well, you are making me crazy,” she retorted. “You didn’t teach me how to stop it,” she said, turning to Godric. He just shrugged, still chuckling. Salazar stared at her with a deep frown. She turned and stared right back. Salazar sensed that she would not be backing down, and with a long-suffering sigh, he took a step back and dried his clothes with a wave of his wand.
“You can do that in mere moments, and you’re giving me a hard time about a little water?” she asked indignantly.
“It wasn’t a little water,” he retorted. “And it’s the principle of the thing.”
“I think we should start moving again,” Godric said, stepping between the two. Salazar took a deep breath, and nodded his agreement. He picked up his pack and walked out of the small clearing they had designated as an impromptu classroom, not waiting to see if Amy or Godric followed. He didn’t want to hear the two of them chatter on about magic, and Godric’s past adventures. The quiet and the walking would help to clear his head.
****
“Have you seen Amy?” Godric asked the next morning after they had packed up.
Salazar shook his head. “Maybe she decided to go home. We should leave without her.”
Godric frowned. “We can’t leave a defenseless woman alone in these woods. She’d get herself killed.” Salazar looked at him skeptically. She was hardly defenseless, he thought, remembering how she had almost killed him at their first meeting. He tried reminding Godric of that fact, but he wouldn’t hear of it.
“We have to find her,” he insisted.
Salazar sighed, agreeing to go left while Godric went right in an effort to locate her. He marched through the brush, preparing an irate speech about her irresponsibility and lack of consideration, when he found her staring intently at an apple. It was perched on a fallen log, and she kneeled in front of it, her eyes never leaving it. She looked deranged in his opinion, making him question once again why she should be allowed to continue traveling with them. The minute they arrived at a town, village, or even lonely cabin, he would insist to Godric that they leave her there for her own safety, and his own sanity.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Trying to make it move,” she answered, her eyes never leaving the apple. It stayed motionless on the table. “With the spell Godric taught me.”
“How is it coming?” He sat down next to her.
“Not so well,” she said with a frown, “though it would be easier if I wasn’t being distracted.” She turned and scowled at him.
“Am I distracting you? I thought I was just sitting here quietly, wondering why you wandered off without telling Godric or me and why we didn’t just leave you for the wolves.” He glared at her. She turned and returned his scowl.
“You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you,” she said, turning back to the apple with a determined look. Even with her eyes narrowed, it didn’t move.
“Is it supposed to be doing something?”
“You just wait.” She clapped her hands down on the log and moved her head closer. The apple rolled onto its side. Amy stood to her feet, biting at her lip so hard it started to bleed. The apple wobbled, spinning in a circle. Salazar watched in amazement. She was doing it. She was actually performing wandless magic. The apple rose into the air, wavering only slightly.
He looked from the floating fruit over to Amy. She trembled from the effort, her fists clenched by her side. And then suddenly she collapsed. The apple fell back onto the log with a thud. It rolled off the backside and fell into a pile of dead leaves. Salazar dropped to the ground next to her. Her skin was pale and covered in sweat.
Taking her by the shoulder, he shook her, calling her name, “Amy!”
Her eyes fluttered open. “Did it work? Did it move?” she whispered.
“No more,” he said, wrenching her up from the ground by her elbow.
“But it worked!”
“And it’s going to kill you if you don’t use a wand. You shouldn’t even be practicing magic.”
“Why? Because my parents are wizards?” she asked indignantly, pulling away from his grasp with a huff.
“Because you haven’t had the proper training,” he argued. This discussion was starting to get old in his opinion.
“And who taught you? Who taught Godric? How can you know they were qualified to be teaching you anything?”
“This isn’t about me,” he spat. “This is about how you can’t control your magic. You’re going to kill yourself, or worse, someone else.” It was mainly him he worried about; she had almost killed him before.
“Everyone is taught different things at different times. There’s no standard by which to judge me, so I really wish you would stop,” she said before stomping off in a huff. The crunching of the sticks and leaves under her footfalls faded away, leaving Salazar with just the chirping of the birds. He didn’t like to admit it, but she had a point.
****
They stopped that night at a small house made entirely of gingerbread. Large candies trimmed the roof and door, and the smell of cake made Salazar salivate. The wide-eyed look on Amy’s face was priceless.
“Don’t the forest animals eat away at her walls?” she asked, reaching out to touch one. Salazar pulled her hand away, but not before she broke off a piece. The door swung open then, a wrinkled hag standing there and staring up at them. Amy mumbled an apology, but the old woman just smiled.
“I can always bake some more,” she reassured her. And then she beckoned them in for some real food and beds.
Inside was larger than the outside suggested. Something that didn’t surprise Salazar, but he noticed the astonishment spread across Amy’s face. Multiple teapots sat on the stovetop. Steam poured from them, each whistling a different tune. A spinning wheel sat in the corner, working diligently by itself. A fire crackled and popped in the fireplace with a cheery rug and two chairs sitting in front of it.
The old woman motioned for them to sit at the long wooden table in the middle of the room, shooing the piles of dishes and utensils to the other end. Amy stood back while they rearranged themselves, three plates staying behind.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. All three of them nodded. “Good.” She took her wand out of her apron pocket and waved it three times over each plate. Instantly, food appeared on each. For Godric, a turkey leg. For Salazar, a bowl of stew. And for Amy, a piece of mutton on toasted bread.
“How did you do that?” Amy asked aghast. Apparently, several days with two wizards wasn’t enough to convince her of the reality of magic.
“Magic, my dear. I could teach if you like. There are many spells a young woman like you ought to know,” the hag said, looking Amy up and down. Salazar didn’t like it. Something felt wrong.
“She has teachers already,” he said sharply. Amy and Godric looked at him surprised. He had made his opinion of her tutelage under them well known. And it wasn’t this.
“Too bad,” the old woman said, squeezing Amy’s arm. “I would love some company around here.” Her hand lingered on her arm. Salazar shot Godric a calculating look. He nodded almost imperceptibly, and took the hag by the arm, escorting her to the remaining chair.
“I need some adventure before I learn household magic,” Amy said, tearing into her sandwich. The hag smiled, but Salazar could tell it was forced. She seemed disappointed, but she sat down and questioned them thoroughly about their quest.
He watched with disdain as Godric answered every question enthusiastically, laying on the charm. Amy chimed in here and there.
“Will you excuse me for a moment?” she asked as they finished their food. “I have some potions to check on.” And then she left, leaving though the back door.
“Did you have to tell her everything?” Salazar asked the moment she left.
“And why not? It’s no secret we are out to kill the dragon,” he said, kicking back in his chair and belching loudly. Amy wrinkled her nose.
“She seems nice,” she offered.
“She’s hiding something,” Salazar said moodily, getting up and pacing around the room. There was nothing that supported his suspicions.
He threw himself down in a chair and contemplated the fire, only half listening to Amy and Godric talk about the different spells she was currently learning. They stopped when the hag came back in from outside. She shooed them off to bed, Godric and Salazar in a spare bedroom and Amy on a makeshift cot in an alcove off the main room.
Salazar waited until he heard the even breathing of Godric in the bed next to him before he got up. He left off his shoes, hoping his socked feet would lessen the noise of him moving around. With everyone asleep, he hoped he could poke around a bit.
He lit his wand in the main room, instantly waking Amy up. “What are you doing?” she hissed, rising up from her cot.
“Nothing, now go back to sleep,” he admonished.
“I can’t go back to sleep if I was never asleep in the first place,” she said, getting out of bed completely. He noticed in the dim light that she wore only her thin shift. It clung to every curve. He tried looking away with little luck. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, sticking his wand in various corners looking for anything that might confirm his suspicions of the old woman.
“Maybe we should check out back. She did disappear for quite some time earlier this evening,” Amy suggested.
“We?”
“Yes, we.” She walked to the door and then turned to face him, waiting on him to follow her. “I can’t see anything without the light from your wand. Hurry up!”
He joined her quickly, too tired to argue at the moment, and also knowing that she would pitch a fit worthy of waking everyone up if he didn’t let her tag along. They crept outside and around the back of the cottage. Amy clung to his elbow, determined not to let him get away from her. At the back, they discovered a small walkway that led them to a small outbuilding hidden away by some trees.
“What’s in there, do you think?” she whispered.
“Only one way to find out.” He opened the door slowly, wincing as it creaked and groaned. Inside he heard a soft whimper. It sounded like a child. Amy heard it too because she rushed past him to find the source. He tried grabbing her arm, but she pulled away, leaving him with no choice but to follow her and hope whatever made the noise wasn’t dangerous.
“Are you alright?” she asked the unseen person, cooing like a mother over a sick child. “It’s okay, we’re here now.”
“Who are you?” a voice asked.
“Who are you?” Salazar said, shining his light down where Amy kneeled, revealing an iron cage with a small boy inside.
“My name’s Oswald. Have you come to let me out?”
“Why are you in there in the first place?” Amy furrowed her brow at his harsh tone, taking the boy’s hand in hers and making more shushing noises that he assumed were meant to reassure the child. They only made him want to knock her upside the head.
“We ate a part of her house. So she locked us up.”
“We?” Amy asked. She sounded slightly scared. Salazar remembered that she had taken part of the little house when they had arrived earlier.
“My sister. She’s gone now. The witch came and got her and I don’t know where she is,” he said, starting to cry. He remembered the old lady looking Amy up and down, how she had pinched her arm. She was eating children. He wondered how many others had fallen prey to her candy charms.
“We have to get him out of there,” Amy said, standing. She placed her hand on his arm and looked up at him with a beseeching look. It didn’t take much to convince him.
“I’m afraid that’s out of the question,” the hag said from behind them. Salazar wheeled around, pushing Amy behind him. She held out a wand, closing in slowly.
“Expelliarmus!” he yelled. But nothing happened.
“Didn’t I tell you?” the hag said with a cackle.
“There’s a special charm in and around my house that protects me from the likes of you. It only recognizes my magic. You’ll find your wand is useless here. And don’t you narrow your eyes at me, missy. Wandless magic won’t get you anywhere either,” she said to Amy. He could hear her harrumph from behind him. “But I’m willing to strike a deal with you.”
“And what is that?” Salazar said. He hoped to stall her as long as possible in the hopes that he might be struck with a sudden idea to get them out of this mess. He wished Godric wasn’t such a heavy sleeper or he might consider yelling for help. At the moment, he thought that would only endanger them further.
“You and your friend may go in the morning, but she stays behind.” She pointed at Amy. Salazar could hear her gasp and felt her fingers tighten their hold on the back of his shirt.
“Why her?”
“You men are too old. Too much muscle. But with a few weeks and some good food, she’d be fat enough to suit me.” There was a ravenous look in her eye as she looked Amy up and down. Amy shifted uncomfortably. He reached back a hand to calm her.
“No,” he said firmly.
“Then I’ll have to kill you.”
“Put your wand down!” Godric appeared out of nowhere, brandishing his sword, and looking fearsome. Salazar had never been so happy to see him in all his life.
“Your wand won’t work in here,” the hag said, not even bothering to turn around. But she jumped when Godric poked her in the back with the tip of his weapon.
“But I imagine a sword will,” he said. She whipped around then with a look of fury that made her even uglier than she already was.
“Why you…”
“Stand aside,” Godric demanded. “NOW,” he said when she hesitated. At sword point, he took her wand and fished around in her pockets for the key to the cage. He tossed the keys to Salazar who unlocked the cage. The boy inside didn’t waste a moment getting out. And before anyone could speak a word, he had scurried out the door and into the night.
“So much for a thank you,” Salazar muttered.
“Do you blame him?” Amy asked, nodding towards Godric and his sword. “He’s just as scary as she is. Maybe more so.”
He didn’t get a chance to answer, Godric asking for his help to tie up the old witch. With her secure, they gathered up their things and hurried away into the night, with only the moon and the light from their wands to guide them through the trees.
“Had enough adventures yet?” Salazar asked Amy sardonically as they fled. He noticed she stayed very close to the both of them, her eyes darting back and forth into the darkness at every little noise.
“Never,” she said defiantly even as she clutched at his hand. Somewhere out there a werewolf howled. “We saved that boy’s life.”
“But who’s going to save yours?” he asked softer, leaning in close.
“I have every confidence in…” She paused. He waited. “Godric,” she finished. She was teasing him. Salazar scowled and marched off. They wouldn’t have discovered the boy if it hadn’t been for his intuition and determination to follow his hunch, but like always, it was Godric who got all the glory.
Part 2