(no subject)

[tamarindchutney]

Title: Between Here and Now and Forever
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: The Founders, various OCs
Rating: PG
Summary: Helga, Rowena, and Godric are headed north.
Author's Note: This chapter has been beta-read by Kitty, as I mentioned last week, so thank you, Kitty! I'm still looking for a new beta, so if you're interested, please tell me. Enjoy this week's chapter.

Also, a brief note on geography: I originally set this chapter in the town of Kingston-Upon-Hull, which is a harbor town. Actually, it is still set in Hull, only when I went and did more research, I found out that the town by the mouth of the river Hull was apparently called Wyke back then, because the king hadn't renamed it Kingston-Upon-Hull. Confusingly, there are several other Wykes in England. If you or a loved one know of a modern-day Wyke, please be assured, this is not your Wyke. I apologize for any confusion.

Chapter 1
Master Founders Post
Chapter 18

The wizarding harbor at Wyke, hidden carefully near the Muggle one, was busy when they arrived at midday. The ship they would be taking to Bergen wouldn't leave until early the next morning, and most of the arrangements had been made, but once they had left their overnight things at the inn, Godric had wanted to see the ships and the ocean. He'd told Helga he wanted to ensure it was spelled to be comfortable for him -- which was partly true -- but he had to admit, it was more because he'd never seen an actual seafaring ship before.

It was smaller than Godric had expected, but it had an enormous sail with a red bear painted on it, flapping in the wind, and the sight of this alone was thrilling, although the name of the ship -- the Hafsvin -- meant 'Sea-Pig,' and confused Godric terribly until Helga pointed out the smaller flag bearing the Aeaeae winged pig rampant. This was one of Stigandr Bjornson's ships, and of course he was Lady Aeaeae's ally.

The ship was well-spelled, and though Godric and Helga got stares from the crew, the captain showed him around and Godric was satisfied that the voyage would be... well, not comfortable, certainly, but he would survive.

When they got back to the inn, Helga held the door open for Godric. "Let's hope Rowena took care of our rooms," she said. He looked over the heads of all the people for her. She would probably be easy to spot -- when Godric was around, she was usually the second-tallest person in the room.

The inn was crowded and noisy, and quite full of odd people -- in many cases even odder than Godric himself. A man with two heads -- not quite concealed in his hood -- was in two separate conferences with what looked like a lady with tusks, and a tall, wispy, literally rail-thin man. Godric tried not to stare, because he knew how it felt to be stared at.

A pretty barmaid with dark hair greeted them. "You'll be the ones with Lady Ravenclaw, I take it?"

"That's us!" said Helga. "Come on, Godric. Don't look at them," she hissed up at him, and Godric realized he was still boggling at the two-headed man. How did two-headed people work?, he wondered.

"Just follow me," said the barmaid, grabbing two of his fingers and looking up at him pleasantly. "Pity you can't stay for very long."

"Er," said Godric, finally noticing her. "Er, yeah. I. Uh." He did a double-take. Her eyes were very striking, not because of their color, but because there was no white in them at all. Except for the pupils, they were entirely brown.

"There you go!" said the barmaid. "I think she's back there somewhere. And I'm sorry about that lot," she added, gesturing back at the odd group. "They're not usually a problem here."

"Problem?" said Godric.

"Godric! Come on, let the woman do her job," said Helga.

"Er. Yeah. Thanks." He waved as the barmaid left.

Helga rolled her eyes. "Don't stare at the land-elves again, that lot is dangerous."

"...Land-elves?" Godric asked.

"Land-elves," said Helga. "You've heard of land-elves, haven't you?" He had not. He frowned at Helga. "Land-elves," she repeated. "Freed-elves? Rebel elves? Elves. They're not bound to serve like house-elves, and they don't all look the same, either," she explained. "Don't Muggles have all sorts of stories about them? They call them faeries too, sometimes, but they're not like those little flying ones that ruin leaves. They're the really bad sort."

Comprehension finally dawned. "You mean those are real?"

"Unfortunately," she said. "The Council's been trying to wipe them out, or at least keep them from stealing children. We still have problems with them every now and then; I think the last big clear-out was in Edinburgh -- which was unusual, because they don't like cities -- but there are still a lot left over."

"Now that I think about it, you mentioned being mistaken for them in Cardiff," said Godric, remembering something she'd mentioned earlier. "But you don't look anything like --"

"Oh, the Muggles we ran afoul of had some jewelry charmed to detect non-humans; they must've stolen it from respectable witches or wizards, and mistaken the meaning when Basil showed up as not human. Generally, if you can't tell what species somebody is, he's probably an elf or a half-breed or cursed, or you ought to be updating your bestiary."

Godric considered the pretty barmaid with the dark eyes. "So that girl...?"

Helga laughed. "Oh, no, the barmaid? With those eyes she's got to be a selkie. They're all right, selkies. Mostly harmless. Now, where's Rowena? Knowing her, she's flirting with some murderous Unseelie knight. I love her, but she's got the worst taste in men," she sighed.

"He doesn't look that Unseelie to me," said Godric, pointing at a table where Rowena was, indeed, involved in conversation with a heavily-armed man. He had a worrying number of daggers at his belt, a large, worn mallet, and, incongruously, a shaved head and a silver cross around his neck. "I mean, unless land-elves can be clergymen."

Helga put her face in her hands. "What did I tell you? She's predictable. I'll see what this is about." She approached their table.

Godric didn't follow her. He looked back out at the land-elves. All he knew about them was that they were as strange-looking as he was -- which made him want to like them -- and that they were evil and stole children -- which did not impress him as being very neighborly.

He supposed he wasn't quite as strange as they were, since he was not an evil child-stealer. And if they were all the same species, why did some have two heads and others only one head, but with tusks? It made them even stranger than they already were. So really, Godric supposed, he was nothing like them.

On the one hand, it was reassuring to find out that somebody was further away from normal than he was, but on the other hand, he was not comfortable with the strange and selfish satisfaction it gave him to be less odd for once. Also, there was the matter of the stolen children. Did the land-elves eat them? (Probably not.) Use them for labor? (This had happened to Godric once when he'd been kidnapped by goblins.) Sell them back to their parents for a profit? (Unlikely, Godric thought. Once he'd escaped, his father had tried to sell him right back to the goblins.)

"Everything all right?" Godric looked around. It was the selkie barmaid, carrying an impressively loaded-down tray of empty plates and cups.

"Fine, yeah," said Godric. The tray teetered. "D'you want help with that?"

"Nah, I know how to balance 'em," she said. "I'm Adela, by the way." She extended a hand for him to shake, and somehow kept the tray from sliding. "I expect the accommodations aren't what you lot are used to. We get all sorts, but never fancy people like Lady Aeaeae's daughter."

"Actually, I used to work in a place like this," said Godric.

"What, really?" she asked. She motioned for him to follow her back to the bar, and Godric went. She set her tray down. "Summat to drink?"

"Yeah, all right," said Godric.

She brought out a mug big enough for Godric, filled it up from one of the kegs behind the bar, and gave it to him. "There you go."

Godric was surprised. "'Course, where I worked they didn't have cups for me."

"Like I said, we get all sorts," she said. "So, are you her bodyguard or something?"

Godric laughed, picturing Rowena's face at hearing this question. "I'd make a terrible bodyguard," he said.

"Well. You don't look like you'd be half bad." She smiled lazily, and Godric had the impression she wasn't talking about bodyguards.

He concentrated on his beer, and decided to change the topic to something sane people found dull, because he thought possibly she was flirting, and he was terrible at flirting. "Actually, I'm a Transfigurator."

Her demeanor changed entirely, but instead of being bored, as he had expected, she looked very alert now. "Really? What sort of Transfigurator? Do you know Prudentia Quigg? Or, or, or! Thaddeus Fudge? Wait, wait, are you Thaddeus Fudge? Oh, now I feel stupid," she said.

"I am not Thaddeus Fudge," Godric reassured her.

"Of course you're not Thaddeus Fudge," she said, rolling her eyes at herself. "So who are you then? Have I heard of you?"

"No," said Godric, frankly. "Well. I mean. Unless you wrote to Master Fudge recently to have a spell done; he's been sending a few of his clients to me." Not many, to be fair. Mostly they were the ones Fudge had always been a little afraid of, and Godric had had to turn down most of them. "But you don't seem like one of those clients," he said. "I hope not, at any rate." He made a face.

"Why? What on earth were you being asked to do?" she asked.

"Er." Godric went pink. "So -- you get a lot of strange requests when you're a Transfigurator. And a lot of them are rather... worrying?"

She leaned forward. "Tell me!"

He put his face in his hands. "There was this complete arse who wrote asking me to -- to -- to alter the anatomy of, er, various livestock animals for --"

"Wait, never mind, I don't think I want to know the details," said Adela. "That's disgusting. Someone actually --"

"He was offering quite a large sum," said Godric. "But alas, I have standards."

She laughed. "And before you were a Transfigurator, you worked in a pub?"

"Well, sort of during," he said. "I was Thaddeus Fudge's apprentice, but I didn't exactly have a lot of money, so..."

She nodded. "Do you think he would take a new apprentice?" she asked, and her sudden interest in his work made sense.

"He's... retired," said Godric. He wanted very much to explain to her that Fudge was a fraud with a convincing professorial air, and Godric had done most of the work himself, but he would sound mad. How could he sit there and call one of the greatest Transfigurators in the world a confidence man? He'd just sound jealous.

"Oh," said Adela, looking disappointed. "So what's your business with Lady Ravenclaw, anyway?"

"Oh, we work together," said Godric. "She's -- she and Helga and I are professors of magic."

"Are you from that school up in Scotland?" she asked.

Godric nodded, enthusiastically. "We're going to visit one of Rowena's friends this summer, though. One of Bjornson's sons."

"Oh, that makes loads more sense," she said. "See, I was glad when you came because Lady Ravenclaw was driving me mad. She kept asking and asking for you."

"She kept asking for me?" Godric asked, confused.

"Well. No," said Adela. "I mean, she kept asking for you and that woman you came in with. But mostly her. She kept coming up to me and saying 'my dear friend Helga, have you seen her, she's this short blonde woman who's really pretty and sweet and funny and blah blah blah also she's with this bloke who's big.' I was beginning to think they were lovers or something." She frowned. "...They're not, are they? I mean, nobility's always eccentric, what are you going to do, but... that's a bit odd even for the Aeaeaes. Although she does have that aunt from the Isle of Man," she said, darkly.

Godric did not follow gossip about Rowena's family, because he spent entirely too much time dealing with the fact of Rowena to care. "Helga's married. Helga's extremely married," he said.

"Right. Well. So's the Manx Cat, and that don't stop her, does it?" said Adela.

"I don't know Rowena's family," said Godric, with some distaste. "We don't get on."

"You don't get on with her family or you don't get on with Rowena?" inquired Adela, apparently amused that he was on first-name basis with someone he'd known since he was seven.

"Both," he said, shortly. "What sort of transfiguration are you interested in?" he asked.

"Ah. I'm being nosy. That was very subtle, sir," she said, laughing. "Well. Thing is, I'm half-selkie. You probably noticed the eyes, yeah?"

He nodded. "I don't -- forgive me, I don't really know what selkies are. My parents were Muggles, so I don't always know things like that."

"Muggles. Really?" she asked. When Godric did not make any effort at explanation, she said, "Selkies are seal shapeshifters."

"So, like werewolves, but with seals?" Godric asked.

She looked alarmed. "Absolutely not!"

"I -- er -- I didn't mean to offend you," said Godric, quickly. "Go on."

"Werewolves aren't real shapeshifters," said Adela. "They're mindless, vicious beasts with no control -- and usually they were that way before they got bit, too. Selkies, on the other hand, selkies know what they're doing when they change, and we do it on purpose, and we stay perfectly reasonable all the while."

"So you can change at will," said Godric, trying to move past all the things she was saying about werewolves. "More like an Animagus?"

She nodded. "Exactly. And I thought it'd be interesting to see if I could sort of take that instinctive magic apart and work out how it's done --"

"Oh, that would be a fascinating study," said Godric.

"Do you want to hear what I've worked out so far?" she asked, and he nodded.

* * *

Helga, meanwhile, had been talking to Rowena and her new friend -- one Father Iestyn, a vampire-hunting priest on his way to Riga -- about books and theology and magic, when she realized that Godric had wandered off. She pulled Rowena aside. "Where's Godric? Didn't he come here with me?"

Rowena shrugged. "I saw him leave just before you started arguing with me about booksellers," she said. "I thought he went up to the room to be alone and brood. You know how he is." She rolled her eyes.

"He was in a good mood!" said Helga. "He's all excited about travel. We were talking about land-elves, and there was this -- there was -- augh." She stood. "I really hope he's talking to the barmaid, because otherwise he's wandered off to talk to a bunch of hooligans."

"What, that selkie girl?" Rowena asked, blinking. "You don't think she's trouble, do you?"

"She seems nice enough," said Helga, "but you know Godric. He won't actually have the nerve to say more than three words to her. Which is why I'm worried about the land-elves."

"What, isn't he frightened of them?" Rowena asked, surprised. "I was surprised they were being all..." She gestured vaguely at their surroundings. "All public like this."

"He'd never heard of them," said Helga, "at least not properly. You know how it is, he's Muggleborn. He's only got distorted information. I'll go and extract him from whatever he's got himself into."

She went to find Godric, and saw, to her relief, that the land-elves were gone, and that he was indeed talking animatedly to the selkie girl. There was an array of silverware, dishes, and condiments laid out on the bar, and the girl was gesturing with a cup, evidently explaining something complicated. "...and then it just sort of, I don't know, clicks into place, like I've always been a seal," she said. "But all the conditions need to be right."

"Huh," said Godric. "It'd make the most sense, from a practical standpoint. And it'd explain why nobody's thought of it before."

"They haven't?" she asked, surprised.

"Well, you'd think they would have, it seems so sensible now, but I bet nobody asked," he said. He sounded rather smug about it.

"Nah, they just want to see the transformation. Probably because I have to be naked," she added, with an amused excess of casualness.

Godric went very red. "Er. You didn't mention that." He looked away quickly, and gave a start as he saw Helga standing there watching him placidly. "Aah!"

"Evening, Godric," she said. "Were you planning on joining us for, oh, say, pleasant conversation, dinner, or the trip?"

"Oh, it's you," said the girl, giving Helga a friendly smile. "You found your Lady Ravenclaw easily enough?"

"Yes," said Helga. "I was just trying to keep Godric here out of trouble."

"Oh, don't worry," said the selkie, not seeming to notice. "He's no trouble at all. I never get to talk to anybody who knows a thing about transfig." She beamed at Godric, who looked very guilty and red. "See, 'cos I wanted to study with Fudge but he says he's retired, but he's probably just --"

"Er, no, he's definitely retired," said Godric. "Hopefully."

"It's probably better for his health," added Helga. Rowena had told her about the plot her mother and Fudge had devised, and anyone who made Rowena that upset was fair game for Helga's collapsible shovel.

"Definitely better for his health," said Godric, looking worriedly at Helga. "Er, anyway, I. Er. Ah." His speech seemed to clog up as he remembered the context of their conversation.

"Godric studied with Master Fudge," said Helga, helpfully.

"Oh, yes! I did!" He sounded as if he'd only just remembered. "I, er. I mean. I did, but now I teach. I think I mentioned that. Did I mention that?"

"You did. The new school in Scotland," said the girl.

"Yes, that," said Godric. "Er. So that's... where I am. Except not this summer."

"No," said the girl. "You mentioned that too."

"Bad memory," said Godric, apparently starting to panic again. "Sorry. I should probably go."

"Probably," the girl agreed. She seemed to be trying not to smirk.

Godric got to his feet. "So. Yes. Goodbye. Er. Come on, Helga." He grabbed Helga's arm, all but dragging her away.

"Nice girl?" Helga asked.

"Augh," said Godric articulately.

"Very friendly," she added.

"I didn't mean anything!" Godric insisted. "I just. And then. And we were talking, and then. And."

"I think she was just seeing how long it would take you to run away," said Helga. "If it makes you feel any better."

"No," he said. "Why should it? Augh," he repeated.

"Sorry about that," she told Father Iestyn when they arrived at the table. "This is Father Iestyn, Godric. He's coming north with us to hunt vampires!"

"Pleased to meet you," said Iestyn. "I've heard a great deal about you, Master Gryffindor."

Godric looked at him in astonishment. "From who?"

"Lady Rowena was telling me all about your clever solution for getting around some wards she had up," he said, leading them back to their own table.

"...Really?" He looked suspiciously at Helga, as though she might be responsible.

"Really?" Helga asked, having herself assumed that Rowena wouldn't mention Godric at all to a stranger, except in negative contexts.

"Godric!" said Rowena, as they arrived at the table. To all evidence, she was happy to see him. "Where'd you go?"

Godric went red, and gestured behind them. "Oh, I was just, um, over -- I had a --"

"Barmaid," said Helga, sitting down next to Rowena, who laughed.

"Helga!" he whined.

"Won't Aurelia Sheffield be jealous?" Rowena asked, extremely amused.

"I was talking to her about theory," insisted Godric, now very grumpy. "You know I can't talk about..." He trailed off. "You know I'm no good with women." He grabbed a chair and began fiddling with it, using his wand to make it into more of a bench.

Helga raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? What are we, then?"

"Well, you're married, and Rowena hates me," Godric pointed out, "and besides, I've known both of you forever."

Rowena looked insulted. "Why do you always act like --"

Godric sat on his bench, ignoring her. "Are there many vampires in the north?" he asked Iestyn.

"It's a good climate for them," said Iestyn. "The rot comes slower, when it comes, and it's dark more often. And there are less Christians."

"Oh, yeah," said Godric, sounding glum. "I suppose that makes sense. So are you a Muggle or something?"

Iestyn looked surprised. "No, of course not. Why would I be?"

"Well, you're clergy, right?" Godric asked. "And clergy hate magic."

Iestyn looked rather taken aback. "Where did you get that idea?"

"From, er. ...Oh." Godric looked as though he'd suddenly realized something. "Well, I'm, you know, Muggleborn, and I grew up in the country, so I suppose the magic-hating went along with that."

"That's too bad," said Iestyn. "A lot of Muggles have got it all wrong. Officially, magic doesn't even exist!"

Godric looked at Rowena, who was also frowning. "Yes, that was the line a Muggle of my acquaintance took," she said, slowly. "How does that make it any less bad? Being able to do impossible things is never good for the soul. Or sanity."

"What you and I call magic isn't the same thing as what most Muggles call magic," said Iestyn. "It's convenient shorthand. We've been trying to come up with a better word for it, but unfortunately it's not easy to replace the word for an entire concept. Magic as we practice it is more like... fragments of miracles," he said. "Because our magic is real. Only God can make real things. The Devil works in lies and illusions, and that's the sort of magic that's wrong to do. But you and I, we can do real, good things with magic. We can make more food, to keep ourselves and others from hunger. We can light a dark room. We can heal. That's God's work. It doesn't always have good results immediately, but we can't know how it'll all turn out, of course, we're only human."

Godric didn't look convinced. "Fine, so if I'm some sort of tiny saint or whatever and I can do little miracles, why can Rowena do them too?"

"He's got a good point," said Rowena.

Godric looked oddly at her. "Yes. I have," he said cautiously.

"Oh come on, Rowena's a heathen, not a bad person," said Helga. "Her magic's done a lot of good."

Rowena went rather pink at this. "I do what I can," she muttered. "And technically," she added, "I'm New Reformed Hellenic. Ish. The heathens are a completely different group."

"But what about all the times she's hexed me?" Godric asked, as though this was the most unfair thing in the world.

"Maybe your god wanted you to be hexed," Rowena said. She was not helping.

"See? God does hate me!" Godric said, waving a finger at Helga. "I was right!"

"Godric, you're being egocentric," sighed Helga.

"Oh, so God doesn't care about me, then," said Godric. He crossed his arms.

"Godric, you're being irritating," said Helga.

"Do you always all talk over each other?" Iestyn asked.

"Mostly," said Helga, sighing.

"Always," said Godric, wrinkling his nose.

"Never!" said Rowena cheerfully, apparently just to be contradictory.

"At any rate," said Iestyn, "I suppose the pagans have magic for the same reason we have it -- they're meant to do something good with it."

Godric snorted.

"Or maybe your having been hexed will be useful to you in the future," said Iestyn, amused. "I don't know."

"I do know. I know that it bloody well hurts," said Godric, glaring at her.

"Healers and surgeons sometimes have to hurt something to mend it," said Iestyn, shrugging. "Things that seem bad may lead to good."

Godric still looked skeptical, but Rowena just looked smug. "Clearly I'm brilliant. And miraculous."

Helga decided that that was enough. She elbowed Rowena, hard.

"OW! What was that for?" Rowena demanded.

"Too smug," said Helga cheerfully. "Also, stop hexing Godric, you've done it enough."

"You're no fun," said Rowena.

"At any rate," said Iestyn, "I'm afraid I have to leave the theological violence to you for tonight. I need to ensure that everything's in order for tomorrow. These Northern sailors have no respect for a hunter's tools."

"Too true," said Helga. She remembered an unpleasant altercation she and Basil had had with their ship's crew over whether a Hand of Glory was permissible aboard ship. "Wrapping very magical things in cloth-of-silver seems to help keep them undetected."

Iestyn laughed. "Vampires take a lot of killing, so they need a lot of tools. If I could afford that much cloth-of-silver I'd have my own fleet. See you tomorrow morning!" And with that, he departed.

"I'm so glad we've got at least one nice shipmate," said Rowena. "How many passengers are usually on these things?"

"Not many," said Helga. "...I ought to remind you that priests are celibate, Rowena."

Rowena blushed. "I wasn't flirting. He's just very well-read, is all."

"And he hunts vampires," Helga pointed out. "You have sort of a thing about vampires."

"Let's talk about something else," Rowena said quickly.

"Fine by me," said Helga. "Tell us about the selkie, Godric."

"Yes, tell us about the selkie!" said Rowena, grinning viciously.

"Will both of you leave me alone about that?" Godric demanded. "I'm -- she was very, er, forward, but I'm not interested."

"She seemed very interested in transfiguration," Helga pointed out.

"Oh, did she?" Rowena asked.

"Oh, stop it," grumbled Godric. "I'm not -- I don't -- we're only here for a day. Besides, she was saying some very uncomplimentary things about werewolves, and I decided --"

Helga bristled. "As if she can talk. Everybody knows selkies are terrible gossips with loose morals, and they aren't even very bright."

Godric seemed a bit startled at this outburst. "Er. Right. Well, you said they were all right, and she seemed quite clever, actually --"

"Helga, you're being very silly," said Rowena. "She was quite nice to me, and I did pester her a bit."

"Well, she had to be nice to you," Helga pointed out.

"And she was nice to Godric," said Rowena. "I mean. Possibly just because she wanted to get into --"

"An apprenticeship with Thaddeus Fudge," said Godric quickly.

"Right," said Rowena, smirking.

"Shut up, Rowena," said Godric.

"Oh, fine," said Rowena, rolling her eyes. "Oh! So now that we're out of the castle, I think we should tell Helga what we're doing. Tell her your idea, Godric," she said.

"I was researching, er. ...this is going to make me sound creepy, isn't it?" he asked Rowena.

"Probably," said Rowena. "But we won't tell your selkie barmaid."

Godric went red. "Rowena," he said, glaring. "I was researching transfigurational methods of mind control, and I think I worked out how to do it."

"You what?" Helga asked.

"I told you," said Godric. "I told you it was going to make me sound creepy."

"No, I just want to know how you got around the thing where -- argh, it's Circe's something, it's on the tip of my tongue -- you have to know what something looks like before you --"

"Circe's Law of Transformational Beginnings?" Godric asked.

"Yes, that," said Helga. "Sorry, I always get it mixed up with Ninane's Non-Undoability Principle."

"...Gods," said Rowena, sounding disgusted and horrified and impressed all at once. "You two are such --"

Helga held up a hand to stop her. "Keep in mind, Rowena, that however you finish that sentence, you're just as bad as we are about academic gibberish. If not worse."

"...consummate professionals!" Rowena finished. It was clearly not what she had had in mind.

Helga nodded. "Much better."

"Anyway, I disproved that," said Godric, with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Helga wondered if she'd heard right. "...You disproved Circe's First Law?"

"You just have to know what something is," said Godric, gesturing excitedly. "Mind, if you can't see it that's a lot more difficult. But in principle --"

"All right, but why do you want to control minds?" Helga asked. Then she had another idea. "Oh! Is this about the thought-collection thing to sort the students?"

"Yes," said Rowena, obviously still grumpy about Helga's refusal to promise not to sabotage their sorting thing. "But it might actually work."

"It will actually work," said Godric. "I think. If it would make you feel better, I'll be the first to try it out, in case something goes wrong and it eats minds." He frowned. "Hrm. That would be bad. I'll try to keep it from doing that."

"Your confidence is heartening," said Helga. Then something horrible occurred to her. "Wait. Does Bjornson have mind-control spells? Is that what we're stealing?"

"Not that we know of," said Rowena. "But he has got something that collects thoughts, and that's how Godric found it."

"I was just doing some research and found it in some Council letters Lord Salazar had saved," said Godric. "But I do want to do more with the mind-control thing. I mean, not that I want to apply it," he said. "I just want to know if I can manage it."

"Just don't tell Lord Salazar," said Helga. She didn't like the idea of a Council politician with access to that kind of power.

"That's exactly why Rowena didn't want me telling you about it until we left," said Godric. "But you know, he'll probably find out about it anyway. He's not stupid."

"Well, no, but it isn't as though the secret can't be kept," said Helga.

"He's got that goblin spy, though," said Godric, grimacing. "I don't trust him."

"Well, of course not, he's on the Council," said Helga. This was common sense to her.

"I meant the goblin," said Godric. "A thing like that shouldn't be in a school, don't you think?"

Helga frowned. "It's only a goblin, Godric," she said. "I mean, it's not an elf."

"And there are plenty worse things he could be keeping in a school," said Rowena.

"Like what?" Godric demanded.

"Dementors!" said Helga.

"Or Cerberi," said Rowena.

"Or dragons," said Helga.

"All right, so there are worse things," said Godric, "but goblins are bad."

Helga snorted. "Only if your defenses are totally inadequate. I've seen rhododendrons mount more successful invasions."

"Helga," said Rowena, in an odd tone. "Helga, I don't think --"

"Oh come on, Runty's just a bit of a coward, like always. I mean, what did they ever do to you?" Helga asked. Godric simply glared for a moment, color rising in his cheeks, and she took a satisfied swig of her ale.

Then he stood, still glowering. "This," he said.

Helga stared up at him, frowning. "What d'you mean, 'this'?"

"They did this to me," he said, glaring down at her. He indicated himself. "They needed a weapon, so they took me and cursed me."

Rowena sighed. "Helga," she muttered, "you've set him off whinging again. This is what you warned me about."

"They did what?" Helga asked. Goblins weren't supposed to have magic, were they? Common knowledge could be wrong, though. ...And she had been a bit insensitive, she had to admit.

"There's a nice brand they did on my shoulder, too," Godric said, injured. "It says I'm a troll, apparently, though I can't read Gobbledegook."

"Goblins cursed you?" Helga asked, for confirmation.

"I think we've established that," said Rowena.

"But goblins haven't got magic!" she blurted.

"I think they must have it," said Rowena. "It explains a lot."

"And also, I've seen it," Godric pointed out.

"And also, he's seen it," said Rowena helpfully. "He is rather good at disproving things, you have to give him that."

"What does it explain?" Helga asked.

"Why my mother got me married to a useless Muggle," said Rowena. "It was during that failed goblin rebellion, remember? They besieged all these Council families all at once, for a long time, and I don't think they could've done half as well without good communication spells. Really good ones. I wouldn't know how to do them."

Helga frowned. It made a lot of sense, now that she thought about it. "Mum was pretty worried, and yours would be in a better position to know..."

"Well, she never actually told me," said Rowena, "but she said Lady Slytherin went missing, and that seemed important..."

"Eesh," said Helga. "Maybe that's why Jasper's so snotty."

"Wait, why does she believe me and you don't?" Godric asked her.

"I know! What's the world coming to?" Rowena said.

"I'm sorry, I'm still stuck on the part where everything I know is wrong," said Helga. "I believe you, I just --"

"Well, thanks," said Godric, sarcastically.

"But... what kind of magic do they have?" she asked.

Godric shrugged. "Hurts, whatever it is. It's transfiguratory, but I've never been able to make sense of it. Or undo it."

"It looks like house-elf magic, but stronger and meaner," said Rowena. "Maybe more like other elfish magic, but I haven't looked at any of that, and I don't want to," she said.

"And you know this how?" Helga asked.

She went slightly red. "It's all over Godric," she said. "Er. I was looking at you to, you know, see why you were --"

"Some kind of monstrosity?" Godric asked, sounding glum.

"Suddenly taller than me," she said instead. "You used to be so tiny and easy to torment! I hope you don't mind. I was just curious, and...." She paused, frowning slightly. "And a bit worried about you." She was looking very intently at her drink.

"I don't mind," he said. He suddenly perked up, as though he'd had an idea. "You don't know how to undo it, do you?"

Rowena shook her head. "No idea. It's in your bones, did you know that?"

"It's what?" Godric asked.

Helga sat back, half-listening, as they talked about magical theory and Godric's "curse." She felt a bit bad about what she'd said about Godric, but, well, he did complain a lot, and he did act as though his life was tragic and awful, but as far as Helga could tell it really wasn't. After all, at least he was human all the time. Even if he didn't look it.

She anxiously played with the silver cross she wore around her neck whenever Basil wasn't with her -- it was a hunter's traditional engagement present, more practical than pretty, and he'd given it to her back when he'd been human.

There would be a full moon in less than two weeks, and for the first time, Helga wouldn't be there to help Basil afterwards. She tried not to think about what would happen if something went wrong and he only had Jasper and Lord Salazar to take care of him, but the worry settled in her stomach like a stone. He had been perfectly able to take care of himself until he'd been bitten, but now... well, she didn't know.

"Helga? Are you all right?" Rowena asked. She looked puzzled, and worried.

She looked up. "What?"

"That thing's not going to get any shinier," said Rowena.

Helga realized she'd taken the necklace off. The chain was wound around her fingers, and she'd been turning the cross around and around in her hands. "I think I ought to write Basil a letter."

"Oh come on, we just left," said Rowena. "He knows you're all right. It's not like you can't take care of yourself."

"I don't think he's worried about me," Helga pointed out.

"There's parchment and ink in my trunk if you didn't bring any," said Godric, ignoring Rowena. "Er. Although I might have put the parchment at the very bottom."

"...thanks," said Helga, not relishing the thought of digging through an entire chest of luggage. "I think I brought some of my own, though, don't worry. Sorry, I'm not -- I should just --"

"It's fine," said Rowena. "Go write to your husband. I think Godric and I can keep from killing each other for a while without you looking after us."

"Barring accidents, at least," said Godric. "We'll avoid controversial topics of conversation."

Helga snorted. "Thanks. You're so reassuring. I'll probably be back later," she said, "but if I'm not, remember we've got an early morning tomorrow." She left them, wondering if she ought to write Basil a long, cheerful letter, or a short one enclosed in a longer note to Lord Salazar, explaining exactly what she would do if Basil wasn't in perfect health when she came back.

Chapter 20