Disclaimer: Last name's not Rowling, and the letters 'J' and 'K' don't show up anywhere in it. Therefore, I must sadly conclude that the world of Harry Potter is not my own.
Ditto for names like Gaumot, Panzer, Rhysher, Davis, etc., so the same goes for Highlander. This isn't a crossover, per se, but due to a plot I have yet to whip into coherency, I cannot picture Lady Ravenclaw as anyone other than Rebecca Horne. A slight referance to her past with Methos worked its way in.
Warnings: Contains Mpreg and referances to violence. Nothing in detail, but be warned. No slash.
High above Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry the sun shone bright and clear. Its radiant beams did nothing to brighten the bleak scene below. A thick layer of smoke lingered over the castle, moving slowly in the windless air. A huge pyre sputtered out, having reduced the bodies to bone and ash. Nothing else moved in the blood stained fields at the south wall.
Inside the castle, the halls echoed emptily. Students huddled in their common rooms speculating darkly. Staff members busied themselves with clean up and treatment for the wounded. Down in the dungeon, a slim redhead stirred a healing potion while a dark haired man handed powdered beetles to him. A single loud voice broke the hushed atmosphere.
"Godric!" The roar echoed down the corridor as a slim man with short gray hair slammed the door open.
"Stay back Binns!" the redhead stirring the cauldron snapped, green eyes flashing. "This is a delicate mixture and I don't want you hit if it goes volatile." He turned to the side. "I'll need the shrivel-fig shredded next."
With a nod, the other man began routing through the ingredients on the table before him. "What do you want, Binns?" He asked, picking up the shrivel-fig.
"Not one of your precious forth level of students has bothered to show up for their lesson this morning."
"Great God, man!" Godric paused mid-shred. "Do you not realize that the school was attacked yesterday?"
"You can't tell me they are all dead or wounded."
A fourth man entered the room. Expect for a few extra inches of height and lighter hair, he looked remarkably like Godric Gryffindor. "I canceled classes, Binns," the newcomer spoke. "The children need time to adjust to the betrayal and loss of their own. I assumed you had been informed--And would have no objection."
"Well I wasn't and I do. Damn it, Salazar, history is important." Binns swept past him and stalked out of the room.
"What an idiot," the potions smith muttered.
Salazar snorted in agreement. "I could hear him one floor up. You'd think cowering under his desk yesterday would keep him quiet for a few days. But no, he's back to his usual uselessness."
"Why don't you guys just replace him?"
"Because someone swore a contract oath that he could keep the job as long as he wanted it," Salazar replied, voice full of disgust.
"Hey!" Godric protested as he finished up the shrivel-fig. "You're the one who said give him whatever he wants."
"I assumed he was competent."
"We all did. And it's not as if there were that many people we were able to con into this." He handed the shrivel-fig over. "Sorry Percival."
"No offense. I didn't care how crazy you four were as long as you paid me. I must admit it was an unexpected pleasure that you pulled this off. Could you hand me seven newt eyes?"
"It's not pulled off yet, Long Bottom," Salazar commented as Godric opened the required jar. "The students we have taken in so far were mostly from families that could not afford any tutoring or apprenticeships for their children, so we 'sponsored' them. Only the success they've exhibited upon finishing has began to drawn the attention of the wealthier Wizardkind families. We need them to pay to send their children here--and to transfer their 'noble gestures' from paying apprenticeships to Hogwarts fees for lower born children. If that doesn't happen within the next few decades, we'll be four crazy people with students to send home and teachers we can't pay."
"But you have been enticing them," Percival argued. "I saw you giving the McKinnon a tour last week. And I know you've been owled by others."
"Yesterday's attack likely killed that interest," Godric said as he handed over the eyes. "Part of the reason we decided to establish this school is to protect Wizardkind children from Muggle witch hunters until they've learned enough to defend themselves. That's why we are so remote. Having our own students lead Muggles here to destroy us is a costly blow."
"The students did what?" Percival blurted.
"You'd left the fighting field to aid Rowena by then," Salazar said tightly. "We discovered that Tristen from Valley's Grove and his sister went to their town's priest and lead his troops here. Apparently despite everything they've seen here, they still believed his tales of consorting with Satan. They thought by helping rid the world of us, they could save their own souls. It is quite… disconcerting listening to twelve-year old children under a truth spell express a sincere belief that they deserved to be burned alive."
"Until we showed up, no one had ever told them differently," Godric said softly. "Their mother may have hidden her suspicions, and shielded them from the rest of the town, but she still became fearful of Helga and me. I think their father wanted to rip everyone in the room apart with his bare hands. I should have--When they wanted to visit home during the harvest break--" He sighed ran his hand through his thinning hair. "I worried for them being discovered. I never imagined they only came here to locate us."
"Damn," Percival breathed. "I guess a few months does little to cure a lifetime of codswallop. I need the clover you diced earlier. What's to become of them?"
"A high priest from the Wizardkind faction of the Church has offered to take them in. It seems he has a seer on staff, and 'If the twins de Mal Foi are redeemed of the sins sown by jealous Muggles, their great-grandchildren will save the save the Isle of Avalon, the very future of Wizardkind, and be granted a third-cousin dispensation to wed; all before the eldest becomes old enough to knight'."
"When did that happen?" Godric asked.
"About twenty minutes ago," Salazar replied. "When said high priest apparated next to the funeral pyre. He'll take them after they awaken."
"Good riddance," Godric muttered. "Now all we need to do is find a way to reassure parents that there will not be a repeat of this incident."
"There is no guarantee short of limiting the students we accept to those who only had Wizardkind parents."
"Salazar!" Godric exclaimed. "You can't be serious!"
"Why not? That way we know they've not had their brains addled by lies and fear."
"Might I remind you that neither of us had any Wizardkind parents?"
"So?" Slytherin replied coldly. "I've invested too much work into our dream to see it killed by spider-brained twits who believe they are the devil incarnate."
"Do you not remember how hard our Muggle heritage made it for us when we first tried to join Wizardkind society? Where do you think we would be if Jebidiah had that attitude and not tutored us?"
"I'm not saying the children shouldn't receive training. Just not from here."
"From where then?" Godric demanded. "We're aiming to build a system of superior magic training, which will expand to include more students and teachers, displacing the old. If we keep the Muggle Bornes away, where will they learn?"
A pudgy boy with messy blond hair ran in. "Master Slythrin! You're needed--" The boy tripped over his feet and slid into the table with the potions ingredients. It lifted up, dumping Godric's hat into the cauldron as it tilted off its base. Before anyone could move, the contents erupted across the room and coated Salazar. The Transfiguration instructor collapsed screaming in pain as his fellow teachers rushed to him.
Gryffindor paced back and forth by the bed they had placed Salazar on. A fit woman with red-gold hair leaned over the unconscious man. She waved a wand under Slythrin's nose. "Enervate."
The man awoke with a groan. "What happened?"
"First tell us what you remember," the woman instructed. "I want to see if your memory's affected."
"Affected by what? The cauldron!" he exclaimed, eyes suddenly going wide. "What's his name--the son of the potter who made all our pottery? He knocked a hot potion onto me."
The woman tilted her head to the side with a slight frown. "Are you having trouble remembering names?"
"Only the potter's brat's. Damn it, Woman! You know I'm always blanking on it." He paused a moment as the blue-gowned lady continued to study him. "You are Rowena the Raven's Claw. I'm Salazar of Slythrin. You, myself, Helga Hufflepuff, and my sometimes hollow-headed half-brother--"
"Hey!" Godric protested.
"--Godric Gryffindor built this school. From the looks of things we're in Godric's rooms. Our Potions teacher is Percival of the Long Bottom. No, I don't know how he came about that particular appellation; I've never asked. Our History master is Binns. Sir Adam drills Fencing and other sword styles. Last week after too much ale, he called you Rebecca. Did you hound him about his memory?"
"No, not about his memory," Rowena replied dryly.
"Godric instructs Care of Magical Plants," Salazar continued ranting without any sign of hearing her. "Helga teaches Charming. I'm the Transfiguration master, and you are our healer, as well a stargazer. You teach both fields to all who are interested. Shall I continue?"
"No need, Salz," she replied.
"You believe the potion hasn't addled me then?"
"I've known all along it didn't. I was concerned about you hitting your head when you fell."
"You could have asked Godric or Long Bottom."
"We weren't sure," Godric said. "You dropped so fast, then lost consciousness."
"So would you if you felt like your gut was scooped out of you." Salazar started to sit up before lying back down with a groan. "How bad am I burned?"
"Nothing too serious," Rowena replied. "Percival and Godric cast cooling charms quickly, but a few areas still might blister. The soreness you felt would be leftover cramping from the potion's effects."
"What effects? It was a healing draft--Urr! Did that unfinished hodgepodge poison me?"
"No. It has to do with that little curse Septimus hit you with last year," Rowena replied.
"I'd hardly call an attempt to permanently change my gender little, no matter how weak the shot was," Slytherin groused.
"It seems it had more effect then we thought. He put a… seed for a womb and other attributes in you. All that blossomed when you were hit with the potion."
"I'm a bloody woman!?" he roared.
"Technically, no. You still have the male equipment. The potion is female-centric, and the seed was enough for the potion to take root. It only caused the parts to mature since you needed them, and ignored the old."
"Why would I need them?" Salazar demanded.
"Well," Lady Ravenclaw paused. She took a deep breath before continuing. "Many fertility potions, particularly those aimed to cure a malformation of the womb, are similar in composition to certain healing potions. Sometimes the only difference is ingredient portions, or an extra ingredient for one or the other. Percival was close to done when the potion erupted."
"It treated the womb-seed as a malformation to fix," Salazar said, blinking up at the ceiling. "I see. How do you unfix it?"
"We don't. There's no way to remove the new parts without damaging the old. I'm sorry."
Slytherin's face went stone blank. "Is that all?" he asked tightly.
"This particular potion can also be used to impregnate. And it was contaminated with Godric's hair."
"Naturally," Salazar replied calmly. "Why fix a womb if not to put it to use--Bloody Hell, Woman!" Slytherin shot up into a sitting position, before hunching forward clutching his stomach. After a few labored breaths he spoke again. "Did you just tell me I'm pregnant with my own niece or…"
"Nephew," Godric put in as Salazar paused between words.
"Yes, thank you, but my vocabulary wasn't addled either."
"Ro's scan detected male factor in the child," Godric replied, an almost proud half-smile on his lips. "It's our nephew. We're having a son." He blinked. "Damn. That sounds terribly improper."
"You think?" Salazar growled. Then he started laughing. Yelping with pain, he fell back onto his bed clutching his stomach. More laughs and groans continued to pour out of him. "I always knew we'd make this place famous," he bit out weakly as the hysteria began to subside. "The minute we began to realize this dream, I knew our names would be remembered centuries on. I thought it was because we were building a legacy to strengthen the future of Wizardkind."
"We are," Godric replied. "Admittedly we hit a bump with the attack, but--"
"Do you honestly--ow--think any of that matters anymore?," Salazar spat. "I'm carrying your child, Godric. They're not going to care how. The bare facts of it sound too, as you said, 'terribly improper'. No decent Witch or Wizard--nor most of the indecent ones for that matter--are going to allow us, or our school, anywhere near their children. The way news spreads among the Wizardkind, by this time tomorrow, over half our students will be pulled."
"Well, yes," Gryffindor admitted. "If they find out. There's no reason we can't keep it quiet."
"I assure you, it's all ready out. The potter's brat has no sense of discretion. I'm sure he's told the whole Hufflepuff's students by now. He's probably halfway through the rest."
"Give us some credit," Rowena said fiercely. "I sent him away before examining you. All he knew when he came rushing to fetch me is that you were hurt by a potion, and," Rowena's expression darkened. "You've become Purist and are expelling all those without impeccable pedigrees."
"I never said that," Salazar protested. "I said the only way to ensure that we don't have a repeat of yesterday, is not to have children from all Muggle families."
"That's not that far removed," Rowena said critically.
"Most of those kids will not turn out like Tristen and Mary," Godric said at nearly the same time. "I know counted them among yours, but you cannot let betrayal cloud your judgment."
"I care more about this school than anything. If it takes not accepting Muggle Bornes for the next few decades until the Wizardkind elite are sending a second or third generation of their children here, so be it."
"That's hardly just--"
"Damn it, Godric! The world is not just. That's a fine goal to strive for, but if we can't keep a practical footing here, we'll never have a chance to try."
"Fine," Rowena snapped. "Practically speaking: the few students who actually bring some income in, are from families not overly attached to the way Wizardkind has passed magic on in the past. Why do you think they feel that way?"
Salazar frowned, "They're--Oh."
"Muggle Bornes and families with strong Muggle ancestry," Rowena smiled. "And as Adam recently pointed out that in war time, foreign wizards might wish to take the children here hostage."
"Okay, we can't guarantee we won't repeat yesterday. What can we do to convince the nobles that it is unlikely to happen again?" Slythrin asked.
"Helga has some ideas about warding the castle so Muggle's can't see it," Rowena said. "Adam has plenty of suggestions too. Once he returns, I think we should have a full staff meeting to discuss everyone's ideas."
"Returns? Where'd he go?"
"Valley's Grove with Rhiannon and your high priest," Godric replied. "According to the prisoners, they've been plagued by a large Witchcrafted snake."
"So you sent my protégé off with the man who's courting her?"
"With you out cold, we only had one serpent-whisperer," Rowena responded. "He insisted on looking after her. Nothing will happen with Father Alaric with them." Slythrin kept glowering at her. "Don't worry," she growled, "they'll be back by nightfall."
They did not so much as hear from Rhiannon until noon the next day. She sent her voice via candle to request help from the Hogwarts staff. ”Basilisk," she spat, her tiny image pacing in the candle flame, dark hair swirling in behind her. "That oat-for-brains village priest brought a basilisk hatchling with him when he was assigned here. He--"
"Is he insane?" Godric blurted.
"Probably," Rhiannon snorted. "But it doesn't seem he realized the threat it's to grow into to. We still have years before its gaze will kill all who lay eyes on it. He just saw it as a clearly unnatural snake that crossed his path. Dump it in the nearby woods, and sightings of it alarm the peasants. Start preaching against the Witchcraft Threat, and wow, he gets extra tithes and higher power over his flock from each snake sighting."
"Thank God for small basilisks," Godric joked.
"Immature basilisks can still harm," Rowena said harshly. "Their fangs are deadly, and sustained eye contact can cripple. They are also impossible to kill. Strong protective wards surround them to ensure they survive to adulthood. Not that the adults are easily slain, but… This isn't good."
"I've talked him into his hole for now," Rhiannon said, "but that'll only last a day or two."
"Collapse the entrance and bury him," Godric suggested.
"It may be a monster, but it's still a snake," Salazar drawled. "We need to move it to an unpopulated area."
"Don't they live for centuries?" Helga asked calmly, twisting of a blond lock around her finger. "No matter where we put it, it'll find its way to people. Or have them come to him."
"What about someplace very cold?" Rhiannon asked. "It'll spend the rest of its life dormant."
"Places and weather can change over centuries," Rowena said. "And people do live in remarkably cold places. A sluggish beast can still be a monster."
"My work room," Salazar said suddenly. "The walls, floor and ceiling are solid stone. No snake, not even that creature, could dig through them. It's the lowest point of this castle. If we combine our powers, we should be able to sink it further into the ground. I'll key an entrance that can only a snake-speaker can open. That way it will not be opened without someone to control the demon while it is slain. Or…" Slythrin paced around the room frowning. "If there's a way to guarantee its sight will only befall foe --"
"You want to use that thing as a weapon?" Rowena asked aghast. "That's monstrous!"
"Why?" Helga challenged. "People would think twice about attacking us if we set a basilisk loose on them."
"There is a difference between slaying men in battle, and slaughtering them," Godric snarled. "You can't honestly be considering this." His eyes bored into his brother's.
"It was an idea, but I can't think of anyway I'd care to trust to target the beast reliably." Salazar rubbed his lip thoughtfully. "Its presence could still help protect the castle, though. The power required to sink the room will not go unnoticed. We could have it rumored that we stored something in case of another attack. It'll help the increased wards and protections make students and parents feel more secure."
"And once we do slay the beast, we don't have to let anyone know." Helga said with a smile. "I like it."
"Would you send your children here with a basilisk underfoot?" Rowena asked.
"There are fearsome beasts that are known to be quite gentle," Helga argued.
"Fearsome and gentle?" Godric snorted. "That's an unlikely combination."
"Spoken," Helga drawled, blue eyes growing colder, "like someone who would run away from all hippogriffs, even their hatchlings."
"I was twelve!" Godric protested, face flaming as he glared at his brother. "And it was the mother that worried me."
Salazar snickered. "Jebidiah bred them. You really think he would have brought the chick in for us to see, if the dam did not agree?"
"You perhaps," he muttered, folding his arms over his chest. "She didn't like me."
"Rhianne," Adam's voice echoed through the candle, "they're growing restless again."
The black-eyed woman gave a sharp nod to the side and then turned back to her candle. "I need to go. These chicken brains won't to listen most of what we say. No one's attacked yet, but they keep going back and forth on whether it is a good idea."
"Publicly truth-spell the priest," Salazar instructed. "That'll distract them."
Rhiannon laughed. "He was in public when we first dragged his deeds out of him. But technically we did 'Bespell him into saying what we wanted'. He took full advantage of that fact." She sighed. "What a waste perfectly good of cunning. With it, he could have been a great leader and hero for the Church. But no, he had to choose to ignore his own calling, and manipulate fears like his devil himself."
"Unfortunately, life's gifts are not always bestowed upon those who deserve them," Rowena said.
"Anyway, I'm going to help calm the latest crisis. I'll call back to see if you've settled on a plan." With a chime, the candle flame died.
Slythrin sighed. "We can debate the merits of rumors versus total silence later. For now, unless someone has a better idea, I'd appreciate some help clearing out my workroom."
"What will we tell the students?" Godric asked suddenly as they were in the middle clearing out Salazar's lab.
"I thought you wanted us to keep quiet on the basilisk," Salazar replied.
"I mean about this." Godric waved a hand around his brother's workroom. "Everyone knows this is your room, designed to fit your needs. No one's going to believe that any other room in the castle is suddenly better for your research."
"I agree," Helga said. "That is why we should let the students know what we are using this room for, if not the exact beast. They won't question why it is the best."
"That will not help us calm parents," Rowena argued.
"We can tell them it is waiting for my return."
"Return? What are you talking about?" Godric demanded.
"What do you think?" Salazar set the crate he had just levitated down and gestured at his stomach. "I can only stick around a few months at most. So I'm going to stay until we have all of the new defense spells erected, and then leave. We'll tell the students I'm searching for ways to strengthen the wards, and further disguise us from Muggles. Certainly I'll be traveling far enough I might find some, and will send them your way if I do."
"You don't have to leave," Godric protested. "We can hide your condition."
"What condition?" Helga asked.
"In a school full of students?" Slythrin scoffed. "Their mistakes will leave no hope for that."
"We'll hide you then," Godric persisted.
"What are they talking about, Ro?"
"How? Locked in a tower somewhere? Even if the students who can't stay where they're told don't find me, how will we ever explain the child?"
"Child?" Helga repeated blankly.
"He could have been left with us."
"Godric, he is going to resemble us!"
"We could let it be assumed he's ours. One of ours, I mean."
"You grew up alongside me, but you really have no idea what it's like being publicly known as a bastard, do you?" Salazar growled. "No child deserves being raised with the blame of his parents' sin."
"There's no sin! Not really!"
"All the more reason not to inflict--"
"HEY!" The bellowing blond stepped between the two quarrelling wizards. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU TWO TALKING ABOUT!?"
Gryffindor exchanged a glance with his brother. After Salazar's short nod, he turned to Hufflepuff. "Helga, there's something we need to tell you…"
"Salazar, the sleep spell is wearing off," Rhiannon said as she looked up from the side of the wooden crate.
"It's okay. We've almost got it there." Slythrin lead the way to an empty room. On the left sat a series of garderobes. On the right, between two basins with pumps stood a gaping hole. "We'll just sooth it and talk it down the ho--"
A loud crash echoed through the room as the basilisk broke out of the huge crate Rhiannon and company had transported him in. Flying wood hit Slythrin in the back and knocked him to the ground as the large serpent rushed at him. Rhiannon ran forward and hissed commands at him. The beast hissed furiously at her, as Salazar pushed himself up to his knees. He spoke to the snake gesturing to the hole. The monster hesitated, hissing something. Both serpent-whispers repeated their commands and the basilisk capitulated, diving down into its intended prison.
"Must you go?"
Salazar stopped leading his horse out of the grounds. His brother stood in the shadows by the gate. "You know we'll never keep things quiet in this place."
"I know," Godric answered. "But now?" He walked over to him. "Is it even safe? Traveling in your condition?" He asked quietly, looking at his brother as he stroked Thunderfoot's head.
"Safer than with an infant," Salazar said. "Or an eight-month bulge in front of me. And unlike those two options, the secret will remain that."
"What if someone attacks?"
"With the new wards, I wouldn't worry--"
"I meant you. Bandits, or if you stumble into a clan fight…"
"I can defend myself."
"Can you?" Godric demanded. "Between the changes the potion wrought, and Ro's additional ones for safe delivery, your body shape has changed. It doesn't move the way it used to anymore. In the heat of battle will you be able to adjust to the subtle balance difference, or will you react out of habit?"
"I'll do fine!" Slythrin snapped. "I--" He sighed as the horse fidgeted, pulling his head back from the reins Salazar held. "Godric, I'm not needed here. There is nothing I've been doing these past few years that Rhiannon can't."
"Except be my brother," Gryffindor muttered under his breath.
Salazar frowned. "What did you say?"
"You don't know where you're going, or what's going to happen. Sure you'll contact us once you settle… wherever, but what if you can't call Ro to you in time when...?"
"I'm going to be fine, Godric."
"I know. But what if--Here." Gryffindor reached behind his neck and lifted a silver medallion from under his tunic and over his head. On it, a wild boar stood frozen as it reared into the air. "Wear it."
Slythrin's eyes widened. "That's…"
Godric nodded. "It was among the things I 'accidentally' left with after Father disowned us. I want you and the boy to have it now."
"It belongs to you. You're the proper heir."
"Fat good that little fact will ever do me. Besides, if knowing my 'unclean hands' have it burns Father's shade, imagine what he'd feel if he knew 'our' chi--" Gryffidor grinned widely as Salazar reached out and snatched the medallion from him. "Thought that’d convince you."
Salazar rested the medallion on the palm of his hand, letting the chain dangle down into the air. "There is more than just silver here."
Godric nodded. "I put a few protection charms on it. But my work is just a little. Blessing spells. Old ones, both from Wizardkind priests of the Church, and from several of the older paths. And the metal can be set to hold a few memories or events for future study."
Salazar’s eyes widened. "The smith was Wizardkind. But why enhance… The ancestor?"
"I don’t know, but remember Grandfather Jav's drunken talk of a lost inheritance? I think it means he or his father was Witch Borne."
"Perhaps," Slythrin muttered. "It's a useless study at this point."
"But fascinating." Godric ignored his brother's snort. "And even if you never delve into the medallion itself, it should still bring you luck."
"Thank you," Salazar slipped the medallion over his head. Then he reached out and pulled his younger brother into a tight hug. When they pulled away, he grasped Godric's shoulder. "Don't you dare let this place fail. We've put to much into it."
"Yes we have," Godric said solemnly. "I still wish we could keep you here, though. Take--"
"Good Lord! Don't you think you two are taking this admissions debate too far?" Startled the two brothers turned to see Binns trudging into the school grounds, carrying a stack of books. "Muggles are an annoyance, but to storm out over their kids is a little childish."
"I'm going off to search for new ways to increase the defenses, Binns," Slythrin growled. "Don't you remember the last staff meeting?"
"No," Godric scoffed. "He gave himself a nosebleed this morning trying to apparate out through the new shielding."
"The threat of Muggles apparating is bad a joke," Binns said. "Even if preventing it does calm the children. Though I should think you would do something to prevent another attack." He trudged up the path to the castle doors.
"Can I kill him yet?" Godric's exasperation made the old joke fall flatter than usual.
"With last month's attack still staining our school?" Salazar asked dryly. "Sure, the murder of a staff member will go over marvelously."
"I'm sorry I swore the stupid oath."
"Forget it. Even our worst students are too intelligent to ever take a word he says seriously. Besides, he's over ninety. How much longer can he teach?"
AN: This started as backgroud for a storyline I scrapped after the release of book 5. I was going through some of my old stuff and realized with some major editing I could get a story of its own out of it.
--étienne