(no subject)
Title: Between Here and Now and Forever, Chapter 13
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: The Founders, various OCs
Rating: PG
Summary: Rowena displays her woeful interpersonal skills. Then she decides to plan a feast.
Author's Note: If you've read this far, you may be interested in reading or contributing to a fanzine for Harry Potter gen. If so, you should comment to norisis' post. It's in the planning stages now, so if you have any suggestions/encouragement, now is the best time for them!
Chapter 1
Master Founders post
Chapter 12
After she and Godric had worked a sort of research-and-experimentation timetable out, Rowena realized that her position was an odd one -- she was now on better terms with her (admittedly, very forgiving) archrival than she was with either her patron or her best friend. It was not really the best position to be in, she conceded -- and it had not been the first time she'd conceded that day, either, which was something of an irritation for Rowena. Trying to convince Rowena she was wrong was about as useful as trying to put a fire out with a cauldron full of boiling oil.
But maybe, just maybe, this one time, she'd overlooked several important details in planning, and perhaps not told everyone things when she should've. For example, she might've mentioned to Helga that they'd have to be political pawns, she supposed, as Helga hadn't been raised to that sort of thing. And, well, Helga had supported her argument with Lord Salazar. And it seemed like they were always fighting these days. That wasn't right at all. She missed Helga.
As she walked outside to the greenhouses, Rowena could almost pretend that this last reason did not contribute at all to her decision.
She rapped on the door lightly, and Helga poked her head out, her curiosity obvious. "What is it?"
"I..." Rowena frowned, considering what wording would put her in best stead. "I wanted to apologize."
"You wanted to apologize?" Helga raised an eyebrow.
She glared. "I intend to apologize," she snapped.
"By all means, apologize, then," said Helga, starting to close the door.
It was several seconds before Rowena realized that something was wrong. "Wait!"
"What?" Helga blinked; it was clear she was enjoying this.
"I wasn't finished!"
"Very well." She waited, an impossibly superior sort of smirk on her face. Rowena simply glared at her. "I suppose you could work up to it," she added helpfully.
Rowena blinked. "What?"
"Well, you could thank me first," Helga said. "For helping you not lose your disagreement with Lord Slytherin. And then maybe you might be able to manage it," she said.
She glared again. "I suppose I shouldn't have assumed some of the things that I did," she said grumpily.
After waiting a few seconds, Helga decided that this was probably all she was going to get. "Well then," she said.
"Well then what?" Rowena snapped.
"Are you going to stand out there all day looking cross or are you going to come in and tell me what you wanted to tell me?"
"What makes you think I wanted to tell you anything?" Rowena frowned; sometimes she hated when other people were right.
"Because why else would you have gone through all that trouble to... attempt apology?" Helga asked, laughing. "Mind you, it needs loads of work. If I didn't know you so well I'd have thought you didn't mean it."
Rowena frowned. "What? Why?"
"Because you obviously didn't want me to think you did." Helga grabbed her arm and pulled her into the greenhouse. "Now come on, sit down, it's chilly outside. What were you going to say?"
A bit uncomfortable, Rowena sat at one of the students' desks. "Ah. Well. Godric's got this idea, see," she started.
"Yes, people other than you have them, you know," said Helga, gesturing at her with a trowel.
Glaring again -- though backing up a bit, as she didn't want to be whapped in the face with a trowel -- Rowena cleared her throat. "Anyway, he says he's got this idea for a... a thing that reads minds. Rather than, you know, a nice simple test."
"Hmm. That sounds interesting," said Helga. She turned and began repotting some sort of purplish flowers. "Got to be careful with that, though. Some people have really nasty minds."
"Anyway," said Rowena, "the idea is that we tell the thing what we want our students to be like, and it picks out the ones we get to keep and weeds out the ones we don't."
Helga raised an eyebrow, looking over her shoulder. "What keeps us from taking all of them?"
"Nothing. But I've promised Godric not to do that, of course," she said. She tapped her fingers against the desk nervously.
"What?" Helga put the trowel down and stared.
"I told him I wouldn't," she said, frowning. "I mean, it's -- he trusted me enough to -- to do this, and to tell me about Lord Salazar -- not that I didn't expect it..."
"What about Lord Slytherin?" Helga snapped.
"He thought -- Lord Salazar did, I mean -- he thought I'd sabotage the... the sorting thing. To get all of the students he didn't like into the school." She was looking down at the desk now, not really wanting to think about what sort of morals she was supposed to have, and how they might compare with what few she did have.
"And you told Godric you wouldn't." Helga said this flatly, as if she had difficulty believing it.
"Well, yes." Rowena shrugged.
"But you still will, right?"
"No! I said I wouldn't, didn't I?" It was the least she could do. He'd trusted her; she owed it to him to be trustworthy.
"Well, I never gave my word," muttered Helga, turning again and jabbing the trowel into the soil. The purple flower made a sort of yowping noise, and Helga jabbed her wand at it and muttered a spell.
"Oh, really, you won't, will you?" Rowena asked, getting up and looking over Helga's shoulder. "You're going to get all three of us in trouble with Lord Salazar -- and Basil, too, probably, but he's not my problem -- and then where will we have the school?"
"I don't care. We shouldn't just... get rid of students like that."
"But we can't afford to do this," said Rowena, feeling tired. "It's too risky. Without his protection we're at the mercy of my mum, who's not exactly child-friendly, either. I mean, look how I turned out!"
"How did you turn out?" Helga asked, as if she'd been waiting for someone to ask that question all along.
"I don't even know anymore," she said. "Look, Helga, just... don't do this, all right?"
"I'll do what I like," said Helga. "You can tell Lord Slytherin it had nothing to do with you."
"I can do no such thing," said Rowena. "You're not going to do this. I don't want to have to leave, but I don't want you to have to leave, even if I stay on. Please, Helga, don't do anything stupid."
"If I want to be stupid I can be stupid on my own time, Rowena," she said, turning. "At least I won't be useless."
Rowena, while she'd never claimed to be useful, could neither see this as a compliment nor find an adequate comeback for it. "Well. Goodnight, then," she said, walking to the door. "I hope you change your mind before you --" Rowena searched for something to say "-- before you do anything," she said vaguely. She closed the door then, resisting the urge to slam it and stomp away. She couldn't stomp outdoors, anyway, she'd get her boots all muddy.
It was only after she'd got inside that she realized how horrid her own advice was. It was useless to correct herself now -- she'd just have to pretend it'd made sense in the first place.
And now she really missed Helga. Damn it.
* * *
"So," Rowena said, tapping her fingers on the table -- tiredly, Godric thought, but what did he know?
"We've got to develop the thought-collecting thing," he said.
"Either that or steal it," she sighed.
"...yes, but that would be cheating," said Godric.
"True, it would be more interesting to build it from scratch," said Rowena. "But we'd better not keep Lord Salazar waiting around for too long."
"Yes, but the problem," he sighed, "is you."
"...what?" She glared. "Why is everything my fault?"
"I didn't say that," he said quickly. "I just said --"
"You did!" she snapped.
"No, look, just listen to me, Rowena. If we steal the thing, we're going to need Lord Slytherin's help," he said.
"...my gods, you've actually been thinking about this on your own," she said, astonished. "And you think he won't trust the plan once he hears about it?"
He nodded. "Because you're --"
"But Godric, he's going to have to hear about it eventually anyway," she said. "I mean, he's not going to be too keen on letting your Sorting Whatsit have a look 'round his head, he's going to be too busy with his mad plots for world domination and all."
"...well, I don't know that he's got mad plots for world domination," said Godric slowly, "except he's a politician so he's got them by default, obviously, but... well, do you think he'd lend us some, I dunno, people to -- to, er..." He muddled around for the right word.
"What, thieves and spies?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, I was looking for the polite word..."
"Seeing as you'll never be a member of polite society, it's best just to use the real name for the occupation," said Rowena. "But if you're ever in a fix and you need to be nice, always use big words for small sins, and never mention the larger ones. Or, in the presence of persons who are either truly ignorant or who would not be fooled for a moment, you can call them 'researchers,'" she added helpfully. "All the Council members have them -- I rather think that's what Lord Slytherin uses that goblin Peeves for," she said.
"Oh. All right. ...wait, why are you talking to me?" he asked suddenly, realizing that she was, in fact, babbling. "I mean, not that I'm upset, it's just that I know you just don't like me."
She shrugged, looking defeated. "Who else am I going to talk to? Helga's angry at me for telling you I wouldn't sabotage the Sortingkajigger, and she's the only friend I've got here. I mean, you trust me, gods know why. Nobody trusts me. Even Jasper doesn't trust me."
Even though she was evil, Godric could see that her ego needed a good propping up. "There's, er... there's Helena," he pointed out.
"Helena is twelve, Godric." She sighed. "She already worries about me more than she should. I want her to grow up without making her think she has to... to protect me from myself. Or whatever she thinks she's got to do. Gods, I don't even know what my daughter thinks."
He considered this; she seemed rather distressed about the whole thing, and while he didn't know much about what'd happened to Rowena since they'd parted ways as children, he did know a few things about Helena. "Rowena, when you were twelve, did you want either your mum or Helga's to know what you were thinking?"
She grinned, an odd sight for Godric. "...well, not particularly, no, but most of it was evil and involved getting you into as much trouble as possible." The grin disappeared. "But the Thingywhozit. Who did you say had the thought collection device?"
"I suppose I'd better tell you before you come up with any other outlandish synonyms for 'vaguely defined object,'" said Godric. "One of Stigandir Bjornson's researchers found it, apparently -- er, would that be 'spies and thieves' researchers or actual researchers?" he asked.
"Actual researchers," she said. "Bjornson's big on actual research, actually -- the family keeps trying to push through some stupid exploratory voyage across the western sea, but Lord Salazar and his faction shoot it down every time it comes up," she said. "They've sided with my mum out of desperation, I think, everyone says they're mad. The Muggles've been there before, though, so I don't see why it's such a big deal."
"...so getting spies at them will be tricky?" Godric asked, worriedly.
"Not particularly." Rowena grinned. "Bjornson has two sons, Hrafen and Ari. Hrafen's quite clever, I like him, actually, but we'd better avoid him for now, as he'll know what we're up to. Ari's not stupid, he's just... imperceptive and superficial. Funny but oblivious," she said. "He'd like you, I think, but you wouldn't like him."
"So what should we do, then?" Godric asked.
"I'll see if we can't have a general sort of Council feast," said Rowena. "Ostensibly to get people to send their children and nieces and things here. It'll balance out the poorer Muggle-born students, I don't think Salazar will mind --"
"Even if we invite his enemies?" he asked.
"It's best to keep an eye on people you don't agree with, in that line of work," Rowena said. "Really, it's half the point of feasts. The other being to get terribly drunk and sing rude songs, but that's more for the Muggles, as they have servants who do that sort of thing." She grimaced to herself but offered no further explanation. "And then, at the feast, I'll see if I can't weasel myself an invite to see their lovely home."
She seemed entirely too eager to get away from the castle, and Godric wondered, if only for a moment, whether she mightn't betray Lord Slytherin and the school. But that was silly, he knew Rowena better than that. "...er, Rowena? Are you all right?"
Her pleasant attitude suddenly shifted. "I'm fine," she snapped, glaring up at him. "What, do you still think I'm trying to get myself killed?"
"No, no, I'm just --"
"Or maybe you think I'm a traitor too," she said.
"I don't!" he assured her, sounding a bit more guilty than he'd wanted to.
"Did it ever occur to you that if you were a little more pleasant I'd have no reason to... to do whatever it is you all think I'm doing?" she asked, standing to glare up at him from a slightly shorter distance.
He grimaced. "I really didn't think you were going to do whatever," he said weakly. "I don't know what whatever is, but I don't think you'd do it. I just think you're being rude and nobody likes that," he said, honestly. "That's all."
She muttered something -- he only caught the words "...accusing me of... I'm rude, am I?" Clearing her throat, she said, "Well, never mind that. I'll take care of the feast, you take care of the Transfiguration. And don't mess up, or Lord Salazar will blame it all on me."
"I won't mess it up!" he said indignantly, but she'd already stalked out of the room by then.
* * *
Several months later, they were preparing for a very large and practically unfeasible feast. Lady Rowena had very flatteringly enlisted Jasper's help with the whole thing, but what purpose it would serve was beyond him -- perhaps as a sort of showing-of-the-weapons as envisioned by his father? Jasper frowned. It would have made perfect sense as such if the thing had, in fact, been his father's idea. Which he hadn't noticed it being, actually. Perhaps he needed to pay a bit more attention to these things?
"JASPER! Will you pay attention?" And there she was getting annoyed with him again; unfortunate, that. It wasn't particularly dignified.
"I'm sorry, what?" he asked, the model of politeness.
"I said, he might have to be Petrified first, I don't really think he's going to take this without a fight."
Jasper worried, having not caught the name for which the word 'he' was being substituted. "Ah. Well, I'm sure we can handle it," he said confidently.
"I will handle it," said Lady Rowena. "You will do what I tell you to."
Yes, except for that bit she really was an interesting sort of woman. "Er. Who were we talking about again?"
"Godric, of course," she said. "He's the most intimidating-looking of us, even if he isn't actually all that, well, intimidating. We've got to be certain he doesn't do anything to ruin everything, as he's never been to one of these things before..."
"Oh, right. Muggleborn commoner, yes." He nodded. "...do you think it was unpleasant?"
"...what, being a Muggleborn commoner?" she asked, frowning. "Oh yes, I imagine so, but he can't have noticed, really. One usually doesn't..." She trailed off. "But anyway, yes, we must make him look terribly dense."
There was a clearing of throat from somewhere above them. "I think I already look terribly dense, thank you," said Gryffindor, who never failed to frighten Jasper into taking just a few steps back.
"Yes, but it's not enough," said Lady Rowena. "I mean, you don't even look as though you've made an effort to look dense," she said, stepping forward. "Look, your cloak is all wrong, it's the one you always wear, the edges are frayed."
"It's nearly new," he said.
"For you, maybe," she said. "Anyway, it's not garish."
Gryffindor frowned.
"Jasper, shouldn't it be brighter?" Lady Rowena asked, elbowing him.
"...well, he'd look frightfully... nouveau-riche," said Jasper, cocking his head and squinting up at Gryffindor. "That is the desired effect, isn't it?"
"I don't want to look frightful," insisted Gryffindor, "I don't want to look anything!"
"Nonsense, invisibility is impractical at feasts," said Lady Rowena sensibly. "Come on, Godric, follow us."
"I don't see why I even have to go, they'll all be gawping at me," he heard Gryffindor say, before silently following the other two.
* * *
Godric stared through the entrance to the Great Hall. There were... there were people here. People. They were... normal people. ...well, not all of them were normal, but they were all from outside of the school, which frightened Godric somewhat. It'd been so long since he'd spoken to people like that. None of them cared about magical theory, he suspected. It would be dreadful talking to any of them.
"Well, come on, then," snapped Rowena. "Are you going to just sit around staring, or are you going to be useful and socialize?"
"I don't think I'm very good at that," he said weakly.
"I don't think you're very good at anything," she said, rolling her eyes. "But you might as well try."
He bit his lip. "...well. So long as they don't try to kill me or anything..."
"Don't be stupid, if they try to kill you, I'll take care of it," she said confidently.
He decided he'd better not ask what that would entail, or why that last phrase couldn't have been "they won't try to kill you" instead, and, gulping, he stepped through the entrance.
Chapter 14
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: The Founders, various OCs
Rating: PG
Summary: Rowena displays her woeful interpersonal skills. Then she decides to plan a feast.
Author's Note: If you've read this far, you may be interested in reading or contributing to a fanzine for Harry Potter gen. If so, you should comment to norisis' post. It's in the planning stages now, so if you have any suggestions/encouragement, now is the best time for them!
Chapter 1
Master Founders post
Chapter 12
After she and Godric had worked a sort of research-and-experimentation timetable out, Rowena realized that her position was an odd one -- she was now on better terms with her (admittedly, very forgiving) archrival than she was with either her patron or her best friend. It was not really the best position to be in, she conceded -- and it had not been the first time she'd conceded that day, either, which was something of an irritation for Rowena. Trying to convince Rowena she was wrong was about as useful as trying to put a fire out with a cauldron full of boiling oil.
But maybe, just maybe, this one time, she'd overlooked several important details in planning, and perhaps not told everyone things when she should've. For example, she might've mentioned to Helga that they'd have to be political pawns, she supposed, as Helga hadn't been raised to that sort of thing. And, well, Helga had supported her argument with Lord Salazar. And it seemed like they were always fighting these days. That wasn't right at all. She missed Helga.
As she walked outside to the greenhouses, Rowena could almost pretend that this last reason did not contribute at all to her decision.
She rapped on the door lightly, and Helga poked her head out, her curiosity obvious. "What is it?"
"I..." Rowena frowned, considering what wording would put her in best stead. "I wanted to apologize."
"You wanted to apologize?" Helga raised an eyebrow.
She glared. "I intend to apologize," she snapped.
"By all means, apologize, then," said Helga, starting to close the door.
It was several seconds before Rowena realized that something was wrong. "Wait!"
"What?" Helga blinked; it was clear she was enjoying this.
"I wasn't finished!"
"Very well." She waited, an impossibly superior sort of smirk on her face. Rowena simply glared at her. "I suppose you could work up to it," she added helpfully.
Rowena blinked. "What?"
"Well, you could thank me first," Helga said. "For helping you not lose your disagreement with Lord Slytherin. And then maybe you might be able to manage it," she said.
She glared again. "I suppose I shouldn't have assumed some of the things that I did," she said grumpily.
After waiting a few seconds, Helga decided that this was probably all she was going to get. "Well then," she said.
"Well then what?" Rowena snapped.
"Are you going to stand out there all day looking cross or are you going to come in and tell me what you wanted to tell me?"
"What makes you think I wanted to tell you anything?" Rowena frowned; sometimes she hated when other people were right.
"Because why else would you have gone through all that trouble to... attempt apology?" Helga asked, laughing. "Mind you, it needs loads of work. If I didn't know you so well I'd have thought you didn't mean it."
Rowena frowned. "What? Why?"
"Because you obviously didn't want me to think you did." Helga grabbed her arm and pulled her into the greenhouse. "Now come on, sit down, it's chilly outside. What were you going to say?"
A bit uncomfortable, Rowena sat at one of the students' desks. "Ah. Well. Godric's got this idea, see," she started.
"Yes, people other than you have them, you know," said Helga, gesturing at her with a trowel.
Glaring again -- though backing up a bit, as she didn't want to be whapped in the face with a trowel -- Rowena cleared her throat. "Anyway, he says he's got this idea for a... a thing that reads minds. Rather than, you know, a nice simple test."
"Hmm. That sounds interesting," said Helga. She turned and began repotting some sort of purplish flowers. "Got to be careful with that, though. Some people have really nasty minds."
"Anyway," said Rowena, "the idea is that we tell the thing what we want our students to be like, and it picks out the ones we get to keep and weeds out the ones we don't."
Helga raised an eyebrow, looking over her shoulder. "What keeps us from taking all of them?"
"Nothing. But I've promised Godric not to do that, of course," she said. She tapped her fingers against the desk nervously.
"What?" Helga put the trowel down and stared.
"I told him I wouldn't," she said, frowning. "I mean, it's -- he trusted me enough to -- to do this, and to tell me about Lord Salazar -- not that I didn't expect it..."
"What about Lord Slytherin?" Helga snapped.
"He thought -- Lord Salazar did, I mean -- he thought I'd sabotage the... the sorting thing. To get all of the students he didn't like into the school." She was looking down at the desk now, not really wanting to think about what sort of morals she was supposed to have, and how they might compare with what few she did have.
"And you told Godric you wouldn't." Helga said this flatly, as if she had difficulty believing it.
"Well, yes." Rowena shrugged.
"But you still will, right?"
"No! I said I wouldn't, didn't I?" It was the least she could do. He'd trusted her; she owed it to him to be trustworthy.
"Well, I never gave my word," muttered Helga, turning again and jabbing the trowel into the soil. The purple flower made a sort of yowping noise, and Helga jabbed her wand at it and muttered a spell.
"Oh, really, you won't, will you?" Rowena asked, getting up and looking over Helga's shoulder. "You're going to get all three of us in trouble with Lord Salazar -- and Basil, too, probably, but he's not my problem -- and then where will we have the school?"
"I don't care. We shouldn't just... get rid of students like that."
"But we can't afford to do this," said Rowena, feeling tired. "It's too risky. Without his protection we're at the mercy of my mum, who's not exactly child-friendly, either. I mean, look how I turned out!"
"How did you turn out?" Helga asked, as if she'd been waiting for someone to ask that question all along.
"I don't even know anymore," she said. "Look, Helga, just... don't do this, all right?"
"I'll do what I like," said Helga. "You can tell Lord Slytherin it had nothing to do with you."
"I can do no such thing," said Rowena. "You're not going to do this. I don't want to have to leave, but I don't want you to have to leave, even if I stay on. Please, Helga, don't do anything stupid."
"If I want to be stupid I can be stupid on my own time, Rowena," she said, turning. "At least I won't be useless."
Rowena, while she'd never claimed to be useful, could neither see this as a compliment nor find an adequate comeback for it. "Well. Goodnight, then," she said, walking to the door. "I hope you change your mind before you --" Rowena searched for something to say "-- before you do anything," she said vaguely. She closed the door then, resisting the urge to slam it and stomp away. She couldn't stomp outdoors, anyway, she'd get her boots all muddy.
It was only after she'd got inside that she realized how horrid her own advice was. It was useless to correct herself now -- she'd just have to pretend it'd made sense in the first place.
And now she really missed Helga. Damn it.
* * *
"So," Rowena said, tapping her fingers on the table -- tiredly, Godric thought, but what did he know?
"We've got to develop the thought-collecting thing," he said.
"Either that or steal it," she sighed.
"...yes, but that would be cheating," said Godric.
"True, it would be more interesting to build it from scratch," said Rowena. "But we'd better not keep Lord Salazar waiting around for too long."
"Yes, but the problem," he sighed, "is you."
"...what?" She glared. "Why is everything my fault?"
"I didn't say that," he said quickly. "I just said --"
"You did!" she snapped.
"No, look, just listen to me, Rowena. If we steal the thing, we're going to need Lord Slytherin's help," he said.
"...my gods, you've actually been thinking about this on your own," she said, astonished. "And you think he won't trust the plan once he hears about it?"
He nodded. "Because you're --"
"But Godric, he's going to have to hear about it eventually anyway," she said. "I mean, he's not going to be too keen on letting your Sorting Whatsit have a look 'round his head, he's going to be too busy with his mad plots for world domination and all."
"...well, I don't know that he's got mad plots for world domination," said Godric slowly, "except he's a politician so he's got them by default, obviously, but... well, do you think he'd lend us some, I dunno, people to -- to, er..." He muddled around for the right word.
"What, thieves and spies?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, I was looking for the polite word..."
"Seeing as you'll never be a member of polite society, it's best just to use the real name for the occupation," said Rowena. "But if you're ever in a fix and you need to be nice, always use big words for small sins, and never mention the larger ones. Or, in the presence of persons who are either truly ignorant or who would not be fooled for a moment, you can call them 'researchers,'" she added helpfully. "All the Council members have them -- I rather think that's what Lord Slytherin uses that goblin Peeves for," she said.
"Oh. All right. ...wait, why are you talking to me?" he asked suddenly, realizing that she was, in fact, babbling. "I mean, not that I'm upset, it's just that I know you just don't like me."
She shrugged, looking defeated. "Who else am I going to talk to? Helga's angry at me for telling you I wouldn't sabotage the Sortingkajigger, and she's the only friend I've got here. I mean, you trust me, gods know why. Nobody trusts me. Even Jasper doesn't trust me."
Even though she was evil, Godric could see that her ego needed a good propping up. "There's, er... there's Helena," he pointed out.
"Helena is twelve, Godric." She sighed. "She already worries about me more than she should. I want her to grow up without making her think she has to... to protect me from myself. Or whatever she thinks she's got to do. Gods, I don't even know what my daughter thinks."
He considered this; she seemed rather distressed about the whole thing, and while he didn't know much about what'd happened to Rowena since they'd parted ways as children, he did know a few things about Helena. "Rowena, when you were twelve, did you want either your mum or Helga's to know what you were thinking?"
She grinned, an odd sight for Godric. "...well, not particularly, no, but most of it was evil and involved getting you into as much trouble as possible." The grin disappeared. "But the Thingywhozit. Who did you say had the thought collection device?"
"I suppose I'd better tell you before you come up with any other outlandish synonyms for 'vaguely defined object,'" said Godric. "One of Stigandir Bjornson's researchers found it, apparently -- er, would that be 'spies and thieves' researchers or actual researchers?" he asked.
"Actual researchers," she said. "Bjornson's big on actual research, actually -- the family keeps trying to push through some stupid exploratory voyage across the western sea, but Lord Salazar and his faction shoot it down every time it comes up," she said. "They've sided with my mum out of desperation, I think, everyone says they're mad. The Muggles've been there before, though, so I don't see why it's such a big deal."
"...so getting spies at them will be tricky?" Godric asked, worriedly.
"Not particularly." Rowena grinned. "Bjornson has two sons, Hrafen and Ari. Hrafen's quite clever, I like him, actually, but we'd better avoid him for now, as he'll know what we're up to. Ari's not stupid, he's just... imperceptive and superficial. Funny but oblivious," she said. "He'd like you, I think, but you wouldn't like him."
"So what should we do, then?" Godric asked.
"I'll see if we can't have a general sort of Council feast," said Rowena. "Ostensibly to get people to send their children and nieces and things here. It'll balance out the poorer Muggle-born students, I don't think Salazar will mind --"
"Even if we invite his enemies?" he asked.
"It's best to keep an eye on people you don't agree with, in that line of work," Rowena said. "Really, it's half the point of feasts. The other being to get terribly drunk and sing rude songs, but that's more for the Muggles, as they have servants who do that sort of thing." She grimaced to herself but offered no further explanation. "And then, at the feast, I'll see if I can't weasel myself an invite to see their lovely home."
She seemed entirely too eager to get away from the castle, and Godric wondered, if only for a moment, whether she mightn't betray Lord Slytherin and the school. But that was silly, he knew Rowena better than that. "...er, Rowena? Are you all right?"
Her pleasant attitude suddenly shifted. "I'm fine," she snapped, glaring up at him. "What, do you still think I'm trying to get myself killed?"
"No, no, I'm just --"
"Or maybe you think I'm a traitor too," she said.
"I don't!" he assured her, sounding a bit more guilty than he'd wanted to.
"Did it ever occur to you that if you were a little more pleasant I'd have no reason to... to do whatever it is you all think I'm doing?" she asked, standing to glare up at him from a slightly shorter distance.
He grimaced. "I really didn't think you were going to do whatever," he said weakly. "I don't know what whatever is, but I don't think you'd do it. I just think you're being rude and nobody likes that," he said, honestly. "That's all."
She muttered something -- he only caught the words "...accusing me of... I'm rude, am I?" Clearing her throat, she said, "Well, never mind that. I'll take care of the feast, you take care of the Transfiguration. And don't mess up, or Lord Salazar will blame it all on me."
"I won't mess it up!" he said indignantly, but she'd already stalked out of the room by then.
* * *
Several months later, they were preparing for a very large and practically unfeasible feast. Lady Rowena had very flatteringly enlisted Jasper's help with the whole thing, but what purpose it would serve was beyond him -- perhaps as a sort of showing-of-the-weapons as envisioned by his father? Jasper frowned. It would have made perfect sense as such if the thing had, in fact, been his father's idea. Which he hadn't noticed it being, actually. Perhaps he needed to pay a bit more attention to these things?
"JASPER! Will you pay attention?" And there she was getting annoyed with him again; unfortunate, that. It wasn't particularly dignified.
"I'm sorry, what?" he asked, the model of politeness.
"I said, he might have to be Petrified first, I don't really think he's going to take this without a fight."
Jasper worried, having not caught the name for which the word 'he' was being substituted. "Ah. Well, I'm sure we can handle it," he said confidently.
"I will handle it," said Lady Rowena. "You will do what I tell you to."
Yes, except for that bit she really was an interesting sort of woman. "Er. Who were we talking about again?"
"Godric, of course," she said. "He's the most intimidating-looking of us, even if he isn't actually all that, well, intimidating. We've got to be certain he doesn't do anything to ruin everything, as he's never been to one of these things before..."
"Oh, right. Muggleborn commoner, yes." He nodded. "...do you think it was unpleasant?"
"...what, being a Muggleborn commoner?" she asked, frowning. "Oh yes, I imagine so, but he can't have noticed, really. One usually doesn't..." She trailed off. "But anyway, yes, we must make him look terribly dense."
There was a clearing of throat from somewhere above them. "I think I already look terribly dense, thank you," said Gryffindor, who never failed to frighten Jasper into taking just a few steps back.
"Yes, but it's not enough," said Lady Rowena. "I mean, you don't even look as though you've made an effort to look dense," she said, stepping forward. "Look, your cloak is all wrong, it's the one you always wear, the edges are frayed."
"It's nearly new," he said.
"For you, maybe," she said. "Anyway, it's not garish."
Gryffindor frowned.
"Jasper, shouldn't it be brighter?" Lady Rowena asked, elbowing him.
"...well, he'd look frightfully... nouveau-riche," said Jasper, cocking his head and squinting up at Gryffindor. "That is the desired effect, isn't it?"
"I don't want to look frightful," insisted Gryffindor, "I don't want to look anything!"
"Nonsense, invisibility is impractical at feasts," said Lady Rowena sensibly. "Come on, Godric, follow us."
"I don't see why I even have to go, they'll all be gawping at me," he heard Gryffindor say, before silently following the other two.
* * *
Godric stared through the entrance to the Great Hall. There were... there were people here. People. They were... normal people. ...well, not all of them were normal, but they were all from outside of the school, which frightened Godric somewhat. It'd been so long since he'd spoken to people like that. None of them cared about magical theory, he suspected. It would be dreadful talking to any of them.
"Well, come on, then," snapped Rowena. "Are you going to just sit around staring, or are you going to be useful and socialize?"
"I don't think I'm very good at that," he said weakly.
"I don't think you're very good at anything," she said, rolling her eyes. "But you might as well try."
He bit his lip. "...well. So long as they don't try to kill me or anything..."
"Don't be stupid, if they try to kill you, I'll take care of it," she said confidently.
He decided he'd better not ask what that would entail, or why that last phrase couldn't have been "they won't try to kill you" instead, and, gulping, he stepped through the entrance.
Chapter 14