Once the train arrived at Hogsmeade station, they disembarked and made their way towards the waiting carriages. Though they had mostly recovered from the Dementor's effects, a deep unease lingered. Salazar and Godric exchanged a troubled look; they disliked what had happened and had a hundred questions, none of which could be voiced in front of the others. The sky above was a sheet of black, the clouds heavy and oppressive.
As they approached the carriages, they saw a group of older Ravenclaw students cornering Ginny and a blonde girl in blue and bronze. The bullies were taunting the girl, their voices ringing out with the name "Loony."
"I hate bullies," Godric said, his voice a low growl.
Salazar's expression hardened in agreement. When they founded Hogwarts, they had established a zero-tolerance policy for abuse. To see it happening now, so openly, stirred a familiar, cold anger within him.
"We can invite them to ride with us," Salazar suggested, reaching out to gently stroke the leathery wing of one of the skeletal horses pulling the carriage.
"That girl's completely mad. I don't know why my sister is friends with her," Ron said dismissively, then did a double-take. "Harry, what are you stroking?"
"This beautiful Thestral that's going to take us to the castle," Harry replied calmly. "And as for sanity, well, our true natures will always reveal themselves in the end."
"What?" Ron asked, utterly baffled.
"We're all a bit mad, Ronald," Hermione translated, giving Harry an awkward glance. "Can you really see them? The horses?"
"I can see them, too," Godric explained. "Only those who have seen death, and truly accepted it as a natural part of life, can." He turned to Hermione. "We'd best get to the castle. Ladies first," he said, offering her a hand up into the carriage.
"Ginny!" Harry called out. "Ride with us, there's room for two more!" He then smiled at her friend. "In fact, we would be honoured if you'd both join us."
"Thank you," Ginny said, her relief palpable.
"Thank you, Harry Potter. You're very kind," the blonde girl said in a dreamy voice. "I'm Luna Lovegood."
"The pleasure is all ours," Harry replied.
"This way, ladies," Godric interjected, repeating the gallant gesture for Ginny and Luna. "Before it starts to rain."
"You're both acting weird," Ron observed, eyeing them suspiciously. "What happened to you this summer?"
"Nothing at all," Godric replied, his neutral tone making it impossible to tell if he was joking. "We simply attended a literary gathering."
"Yes, I still need to read that book you lent me, Neville," Salazar added, catching himself in time. "Pride and Prejudice. I'm hoping to get to it before Christmas."
"But—" Ron started.
"Food, Ron," Harry said, cutting him off with a grin. "Vast quantities of food await us at the feast."
"Food," Ron repeated, his priorities instantly realigning. "I'm starving."
The journey to the castle was bumpy, but the presence of the Dementors stationed at the edge of the school grounds was far more unsettling. The Ministry and the Headmaster were playing with fire.
In the Entrance Hall, Professor McGonagall intercepted them, her sharp eyes scanning them for any lingering effects of the Dementor attack. After confirming they were all fine, she pulled Hermione aside for an urgent, private word. Out of the corner of his eye, Salazar saw Professor Flitwick holding the Sorting Hat. As Head of Studies, it made sense that he would oversee the ceremony.
They said goodbye to Luna at the Ravenclaw table and took their seats with the Gryffindors. The Sorting Hat's song this year was a familiar description of the four Houses, but with a subtle warning woven through it: a caution against the darker side of their virtues. Courage could curdle into recklessness. Loyalty, when given to the wrong person, could become a destructive force. Intelligence without wisdom could foster a self-defeating pride. And ambition, unchecked by morality, would inevitably become corrupting greed.
Salazar and Godric subtly scanned the students. Most seemed to dismiss the Hat's words, seeing the ancient artefact as little more than a talking rag. Only the ghosts and a few of the professors appeared to grasp the weight of its wisdom.
After the Sorting, Dumbledore rose to speak. "Welcome to a new school year," he began warmly. "A few start-of-term notices. The Forbidden Forest is, as ever, forbidden to all students. A full list of banned items can be found in Mr Filch's office. And Quidditch try-outs will be held during the third week of September." He paused, his expression growing serious. "As you are all aware, we have Dementors from Azkaban stationed at the entrances to the grounds. They are a protective measure, but I must implore you not to give them any reason to harm you. It is not in a Dementor's nature to be forgiving. Furthermore, the Ministry has assigned two Aurors to patrol the castle. They are here for your protection, but they will not disrupt classes, nor do they have the authority to issue punishments. Their purpose is entirely non-academic."
The speech ended, and the tables groaned under the sudden weight of food. A roar of chatter filled the hall.
"In other words," Godric whispered, his voice tight with anger, "you can hex a fellow student right in front of an Auror, and they can't do a thing about it."
"He can't have meant that," Hermione said, horrified.
"He may not have intended to, but he said it all the same," Salazar countered, calmly serving himself some roast chicken. "Simply saying we had Aurors on patrol would have been enough. By specifying what they can't do, he's just shown every bully in this school a loophole."
"Bloody hell," Ron muttered. "Malfoy's going to have a field day."
"I doubt it," Ginny reasoned from across the table. "His father has too much influence at the Ministry. Malfoy won't risk his behaviour getting back to the wrong ears." She then blushed slightly. "By the way, Harry, thank you for helping Luna and me."
"It was nothing," Salazar said, his brow furrowed in concern. "Will she be all right?"
"She knows how to look after herself. They're just cruel jokes."
"Those aren't jokes," Godric stated firmly. "A joke is enjoyed by both parties. What they're doing is harassment, and I don't understand why the teachers allow it."
As dessert appeared, Salazar ate sparingly. When Percy had finished, Harry leaned over and quietly asked him for the new password to the common room.
As soon as they left the Headmaster's office, Kingsley let Tonks lead the way to the kitchens. He was unfamiliar with the castle's basement levels and was surprised when she took a different route than the one they had used to arrive.
"Tonks..."
"Don't worry, Kingsley. I know this castle like the back of my hand," she said with a mischievous grin. "Professor Sprout didn't consider me a model student for a reason."
"A rule-breaker. I'm not surprised."
"It was fun."
They emerged from a hidden passage directly into the Entrance Hall, hurrying across the flagstones before anyone could see them. Kingsley found their mandated invisibility frustrating; it severely limited their ability to do their job. They soon arrived at the portrait Dumbledore had described.
Entering the kitchens, they were met with the sight of hundreds of house-elves working in a frantic buzz of activity. Kingsley saw an unreadable expression cross his partner's face.
"What is it?"
"They're overworked," she murmured, her voice quiet but laced with steel. "They're healthy, but they don't get proper rest. And they don't even have decent uniforms." She gestured to a small, empty table. "Let's sit."
An elf scurried over. "Can Dobby gets anything for the Aurors?"
"The Headmaster suggested we take our meals here," Tonks explained kindly. "Could you bring us something, please? Anything at all will be fine."
"Right away, miss!"
Kingsley watched her, impressed by her natural ease and respect towards the elf. He'd never known the castle was run by house-elves. As they ate, he could see she was still troubled.
"Still thinking about the elves?"
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I'm thinking about the Headmaster's approach to Harry Potter. If you want to protect someone, you tell them what the danger is. Keeping him in the dark isn't keeping him safe; it's keeping him ignorant."
"Perhaps Dumbledore wishes to preserve his innocence."
"You can't protect someone by hiding the truth. He's thirteen, not a child. He'll resent being treated like one."
"It's not our place to interfere, Tonks."
"And I'm not going to," she stated flatly.
Kingsley considered this. He knew from Mr Weasley that Harry Potter was no ordinary boy; he had faced down a Dark wizard and slain a Basilisk. The boy could handle the truth. While Kingsley was loyal to Dumbledore, Tonks was right.
"Our oaths as Aurors are to the law, above any one person's wishes," Kingsley said, his decision made. "We will observe. But the moment an alarm is raised, we do our duty, regardless of any questionable orders." His voice was firm. "I'm just asking you to be patient."
"I know how to be patient."
Harry awoke with the dawn. The other boys in the dormitory were still asleep. He sat up and stretched, a new habit since his awakening.
"Sleep well?" Neville asked quietly from the next bed.
"Well enough," Harry replied, dressing in his uniform.
They left their dorm mates sleeping and headed downstairs. In the deserted common room, Hermione was already awake, a book open in her lap. She looked up in surprise as they strode past her towards the portrait hole. She caught up to them in the corridor.
"Harry! You didn't wait for Ron."
"He was asleep. I'm not going to wake him just because I'm an early riser."
"But you always go down together."
"Harry usually waits for Ron to get up," Neville interjected. "Should he have to rush his own breakfast every morning just for that?"
"That sounds selfish! Ron's our friend."
"He is my friend, Hermione," Harry said, his voice level. "But I am not his babysitter."
They continued on, leaving a fuming Hermione in their wake. In the Great Hall, they sat opposite each other. There were only a few other students present: some silent Slytherins, a few whispering Hufflepuffs, and some Ravenclaws, including Luna, who sat apart from her housemates. As Harry ate, he scanned the room, searching. He could feel Helga's presence in the castle, but she wasn't here.
"Ever played a treasure hunt, Neville?" Harry asked, his tone light.
"What's that?"
"Someone hides something, and the others search for it. I'm sure this castle is full of hidden treasures, don't you think?" Harry met his gaze, a silent question passing between them.
"I'd like that," Neville replied, catching his meaning. "We shouldn't have too much homework today."
"That's a children's game," Hermione scoffed.
"And it's our business," Neville retorted, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Hermione fell silent, stunned. Just then, the rest of the Gryffindors began to trickle in. Harry hid a smile as Ron, Dean, and Seamus stomped over, their hair dripping wet, followed by the Weasley twins, who were struggling to contain their laughter.
"Brilliant," said Fred.
"...absolutely magnificent," finished George.
"Shut up!" Ron snarled. "Scabbers is ill! Now he's soaked, he'll probably get pneumonia!"
"What happened?" Hermione asked.
"Someone flooded our dormitory with a tidal wave!" Dean exclaimed. "You two were lucky you were already gone."
"Was this your doing?" Hermione demanded, glaring at Harry and Neville.
"Of course, Hermione," Salazar replied with dry sarcasm. "I had nothing better to do this morning than disturb my roommates' sleep."
Ron slumped into the seat next to Harry. "You didn't wait for me."
"Good morning to you, too."
"Don't start. I've had enough with Fred and George. Why didn't you wait?"
"Ron, I'm not your squire," Harry said patiently. "I prefer to eat breakfast calmly instead of inhaling my food to get to class on time." He gestured towards Professor McGonagall, who was handing out timetables. "Look, here she comes."
"Excellent!" Hermione chirped, her mood instantly shifting. "I need to see my electives. I wonder if Divination will be more interesting than Arithmancy? And what about Care of Magical Creatures?"
"Hold on, the race hasn't started yet," Neville said, his voice patient and calming as Hermione rattled off her schedule. "Did you really take every single elective?"
"I can attest to that," Salazar said, glancing over his own timetable from Professor McGonagall. He focused on the day ahead: Divination and Transfiguration before lunch, followed by Care of Magical Creatures and History of Magic. The two electives he'd chosen were kicking off the week. He finished his toast and rose from the table.
"I'll wait for you in the North Tower, Ron. We pass the portrait of that mad medieval knight on the way."
"Hey, he's not mad," Neville protested with a grin. "I'm sure he was a great warrior."
"He was surely someone who died committing the grand folly of challenging an enemy without considering the bigger picture," Salazar retorted. "Eat your breakfast, Ron. The food isn't going anywhere. Come on, Neville."
"Harry..." Hermione began, a worried frown on her face.
"Hermione, please," Harry said, his tone perfectly calm but firm. "I appreciate your friendship, but do not tell me what to do. I have finished eating, and I am going to walk to class. You are welcome to join us, or you can wait for Ron. But do not tell me what a 'good friend' should do." He had known many controlling people in his time. "A good friend lets their friends make their own decisions. They can offer an opinion, yes, but they never force it." He looked at Ron and ruffled his still-damp hair. "See you in class, Ron. I'll save you a seat."
"Thanks, mate."
Salazar and Godric left the Great Hall together. Once they were clear of the crowds, they used a series of shortcuts and secret passages, their conversation shielded from the prying ears of the portraits. They were certain the portraits reported back to the Headmaster, and they trusted no one.
"The Aurors," Godric mused. "The Headmaster said there were two of them."
"He did," Salazar confirmed. "I know Helga was always fearsome when provoked, but to imagine her as an Auror... It is not something I would have wagered on."
"She was a brilliant duellist," Godric reminded him. "The only one who could ever match you."
"And even defeat me," Salazar conceded with a wry smile.
"This makes things more interesting, don't you think? It was once frowned upon for a woman to be a duellist, let alone an Auror. A significant change."
"Hogwarts laid the groundwork for that change," Salazar said with a touch of pride. "Our school."
"And yet, Britain still lags behind the rest of Europe in so many ways."
"I am woefully behind on modern politics, Godric. You'll need to bring me up to speed. Dumbledore had the brilliant idea of keeping me ignorant of our world."
"You suspect he intended to use you?"
"If you assume the worst," Salazar said dryly, "you'll rarely be disappointed."
They passed Sir Cadogan, greeting him with formal pleasantries from the Middle Ages that had long since fallen out of use. The knight, busy trying to pull his sword from a patch of enchanted grass, seemed to appreciate the gesture. They reached a dead-end corridor where Godric pointed to a trapdoor in the ceiling. With a synchronised flick of their wands, they lowered it gently and climbed into the classroom.
The room was oppressive and suffocatingly warm, shrouded in darkness and smelling of incense and boiled herbs. The boys separated, Godric staying near the entrance while Salazar moved towards a window at the back. Minutes later, the rest of the class arrived, panting from the long climb up the main staircase.
"Welcome," a misty, theatrical voice whispered from the shadows. "It is a pleasure to see you in the physical world at last. I am Professor Trelawney." She emerged into the faint light, a bundle of shawls and beads. "I find that descending into the main bustle of the school clouds my Inner Eye." She scanned the class. "Boy," she said, her large eyes landing on Godric. "Is your grandmother well?"
"She was fine the last time I spoke to her, Professor."
"I wouldn't be so sure," she said ominously, before turning her attention elsewhere.
Salazar tuned out her incessant chatter about the arts of Divination, which seemed to consist of vague predictions designed to frighten them. He knew that true Seers were born, not made. For everyone else, this class, under this teacher, was a waste of time.
"You will now pair up and read each other's tea leaves," the professor announced. "When you are done, your partner will interpret the dregs. Oh, and dear," she added, looking at Godric again, "when you inevitably break your cup, would you mind taking one of the blue ones? The pink are my favourites."
Salazar watched his friend's face. The comment was a deliberate jab, designed to undermine him by referencing the clumsiness he'd feigned for the past two years. He leaned back, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. He saw Godric walk to the sideboard and, with a perfectly executed "stumble," knock over an entire row of pink porcelain cups, which shattered on the floor.
"Oh, dear! I'm so sorry, Professor!" he cried, feigning complete innocence. "Let me repair them at once!"
He drew his wand, causing several students to dive under their desks as if he were about to bring the roof down. Salazar remained impassive, hiding a grin.
"No, no, don't trouble yourself," Trelawney sighed. "Just take a blue one, please."
Once they had their cups, Salazar poured the tea. He swirled his own absentmindedly, drank the contents, and set the cup down.
"You start," Ron said, pushing his cup forward.
Salazar picked it up and consulted the textbook, ignoring Hermione's deepening scowl. "I see a blob shaped like a toadstool and a crooked cross. According to the book, the cross means suffering and hardship, while the toadstool means prosperity. I suppose that means you'll achieve success after a difficult journey."
"What utter nonsense," Hermione snorted. "Everyone knows you have to work hard to succeed."
"Hey! I like what my cup says!" Ron protested, snatching it back. "Let me read yours, Harry."
As Ron puzzled over his cup, Salazar scanned the room. Trelawney was now looming over their table. "What's so interesting, my dears?"
"I think I see... an animal's head on a chicken bone?" Ron said uncertainly.
"Let me see the cup," the professor breathed, taking it from him. The class fell silent. "Oh, my dear boy," she gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "My poor, dear boy. You have... the Grim."
A collective shudder went through the room.
"It is the worst of omens," she whispered tragically. "An omen... of death. I am so sorry, my dear. You are going to die."
Salazar met her gaze with a placid expression. "Thank you for your candour, Professor. I shall begin composing my epitaph at once. It is a kindness to be forewarned; it's good to know that one day, I will indeed die."
Leaving the stuffy classroom was a profound relief. As they hurried towards Transfiguration, Ron looked pale and shaken.
"Hermione," Harry said loudly. "Do you think Professor McGonagall would let me switch to Ancient Runes? Seeing as I'm going to die soon, I'd like to study something more productive."
"I don't know, Harry. You'll have to ask her."
In Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall immediately noticed the class's distracted mood.
"I don't need you to explain, Miss Granger," she said, her lips pursed. "Tell me. Who is going to die this year?"
"I am, Professor," Salazar announced, raising his hand. The class stared at him. "I must apologise for being distracted; I was pondering what to put on my tombstone. Perhaps: 'Here lies the boy who survived, whose fate was sealed by a tea leaf.' I feel it has a certain ring to it." His tone was one of utter boredom. "And since my demise is imminent, I would like to formally request to drop Divination. In return, I promise to live long enough to hand in the finest essay on Animagi you have ever read."
He thought he saw the barest flicker of an amused smile on his Head of House's face. "We will discuss this at lunchtime, Mr Potter. And let me assure you all, Sybill Trelawney has predicted a student's death every single year since she arrived at this school. To date, she has a perfect record of being wrong." She sniffed disdainfully. "Now, let's turn to the subject of Animagi."
Salazar spent his lunch break in McGonagall's office, calmly explaining that his decision wasn't a mere whim, but a desire to take his education more seriously. In the end, she agreed to arrange the change. By the time he left, lunch was nearly over, so he headed straight to the grounds for Care of Magical Creatures. He found the rest of the class struggling with their snapping monster textbooks, most of which were bound with ropes and belts.
"How'd you get yours to stay still, Potter?" Theodore Nott asked from the Slytherin group, surprising him.
"A Freezing Charm," Harry replied.
"Immobulus. I must admit, that's ingenious," Nott conceded.
Hagrid had brought a herd of Hippogriffs for their first lesson. It was a spectacular, but incredibly risky, choice for an inexperienced teacher. When Hagrid asked for a volunteer, Harry held back; he had enough publicity as it was.
To everyone's shock, it was Neville who stepped forward. The Slytherins snickered, clearly anticipating disaster. Salazar watched calmly. He knew his friend could do it. This was Godric's moment to earn the respect he deserved. Following Hagrid's instructions, Neville approached the lead Hippogriff, Buckbeak, bowed low, and held its gaze until the creature bowed in return. Minutes later, he was soaring above the grounds on the Hippogriff's back.
"Well done, Neville!" Salazar called out as he landed to a smattering of applause from the Gryffindors. It was a well-deserved triumph, a moment of true courage. The Slytherins looked stunned into silence—all except one.
"There's nothing special about you, you great ugly brute," Draco Malfoy sneered, striding towards Buckbeak.
Salazar saw the scene unfold in slow motion. The class froze. Hagrid was paralysed with shock. Buckbeak, insulted, reared up, its sharp talons flashing as it prepared to strike Malfoy.
He had to choose. He had sworn to keep a low profile, but he couldn't stand by. He knew what would happen if Malfoy was injured: Hagrid would be sacked, the creature executed, and Lucius Malfoy would have his revenge.
Without a second thought, Salazar lunged forward, shoving Malfoy clear and curling into a ball to protect his head and neck. An explosion of agony ripped across his back as the talons found their mark, tearing through his robes and skin from his left shoulder down to his waist.
The pain was blinding. He collapsed, vaguely aware of the screams and commotion erupting around him as his vision tunnelled to black. His last thought before unconsciousness claimed him was a curse on his own stupidity; an Immobulus charm would have been so much simpler.