Chapter Text
Harry didn’t know exactly where he was in the castle. He’d been lost in a fog for hours while he tried to come to grips with the first task. Dragons. Fucking dragons. Of course Hagrid had shown him in secret. Of course that meant every student at Hogwarts knew exactly what he was up against.
“Hey, look, it’s Potter, the boy-who-burned-alive! We’ll have to reward the dragon somehow if it manages to kill you,” a Slytherin boy jeered as a group of them passed by him.
Harry looked at them, barely seeing them, too buried in his fear and panic.
Blaise Zabini watched and said nothing. There was teasing and insulting and even bullying. But this was cruel. It was clear to anyone who actually looked that Potter was terrified. Nobody who just wanted attention would have that look in their eyes. Cedric and Viktor looked a bit tighter about the face, but still carried themselves confidently and with pride. It helped they had three years on Potter. Not to mention, Weasel and Granger had essentially abandoned him. Weasel and his never-ending jealousy, idiot. Blaise met those brilliant green eyes and gave him a little nod, not wanting to overtly show support or sympathy.
Harry caught the motion and returned it with a jerk of his chin before tucking his head back down as he hurried down the corridor.
It was another several minutes before he ran into another situation. Ahead he saw a group of girls in blue ties holding a small girls shoes over her head, laughing as they called the blonde ‘Loony’. Harry looked around him and saw he was near Flitwick’s classroom. Turning, he quickly launched himself into the Charm’s room.
“Professor, there are a group of Ravenclaw’s picking on a smaller student, also Ravenclaw,” Harry said. “I think they took her shoes.”
To his credit, Flitwick didn’t question him but hurried out the door. “Enough! Stop this instant!” The tiny professor’s voice was loud, carried through the hallway and froze all the students in the vicinity.
Within a minute, Flitwick had the bullies ushered off to the headmaster, already informing them about detentions and letters home.
A small hand got Harry’s attention. He looked down into big blue eyes surrounded by waves of long blonde hair. Luna Lovegood, he’d heard Flitwick call her. She smiled at him, looking flighty, but he saw something in those luminous eyes. She was much more than an airhead.
“Hello Harry Potter, the Dabberblimps spoke of a secret room hidden behind a tapestry on the seventh floor that is perfect for pacing in front of a few times as you think of exactly what you need,” Luna said in her soft, sing-song voice. With a squeeze of her hand and a wink, she skipped off to catch up with her head of house.
He stood there for a solid minute, taking in what she said. It was too specific for a random comment. Shrugging, he figured he had nothing to lose. Once he was out of the flow of students, he pulled out his map and tapped it before looking at his pathway to the seventh floor. It was clear so he took his time climbing floor after floor. Luna Lovegood, what a curious girl. Then there was Zabini’s nod and lack of sneering and laughing. He lost his best friends and gained a decent Slytherin and an airy girl who may or may not be mystical.
Once on the seventh floor and very grateful for being in shape, he found the tapestry easily. Looking around again, he paced as he thought about what he needed.
I need somewhere safe to hide, where I can rest and study.
His heart jumped when a door appeared out of nowhere. Walking to it, he took his wand out and opened the heavy wood door. When he saw it was a large room with no other people, he entered and let the door close softly behind him.
The room was about the size of the Gryffindor common room, decorated in soothing blues and grays. Several couches decorated one corner in front of a large fireplace while another had a large table with plenty of space to spread out. The farthest wall was a huge bookcase. He recognized the titles of books used for supplemental reading for his classes and grinned.
Pulling his map out again, he spread it out on the end of the table, still smiling. He could leave the map out with no fear of it being found. This room was amazing, it wasn’t on the map. Right now it looked like he wasn’t in the castle. Not that anyone would be looking.
“Now I just need people to teach me everything that’s been denied me,” he said with a sigh. “Someone who could teach me everything that could help me with no ulterior motives.” He gave a snort at the likelihood of that happening.
“You want to learn do you?”
Harry squawked and fell against the table at the unexpected sound of a voice close by. There were four large portraits suddenly on the wall next to him. A beautiful woman with long, glossy black hair looked at him with a small smile, blue eyes kind. Atop her head was a shining crown of sorts. She was elegant and looked wise.
The woman next to her was round and looked like she might have dimples if she grinned. Her chestnut brown hair was wrapped in a bun, her hands cupping a golden chalice. She, too, was watching him with curious hazel-green eyes.
Next to the black-haired woman was a man who looked like was dressed in leather armor, he rested his hands on a brilliant sword, decorated in ancient markings. He had warm red-brown hair that lay in frizzy waves against his shoulders, beard just as long and untamed. His brown eyes shone with stern curiosity.
On the far side, the fourth portrait was of a harsh, slightly wicked looking man, bald head and black goatee exactly what one would expect from a villain. Austere expression on his patrician features, his eyebrow up as crystalline green eyes, sharp and gleaming, took him in.
“Well young man?” the bald man called him to attention.
“Um. Hello sirs, ma’ams,” Harry said, moving to the nearest chair, mouth suddenly dry. A pitcher of water appeared with a glass and a plate of chocolate biscuits. “Thank you, Dobby,” he murmured, recognizing the elf’s special cookies. He smiled at them before pouring and drinking the cool water. “I apologize for my reaction. I thought I was alone.” He gave them a sheepish smile.
The round woman did indeed have dimples as she grinned at him. “Aren’t you a sweetheart? You are, of course, forgiven. We were called forth because you have a sincere desire to learn, especially what has been denied you.”
Harry wanted to slap himself on the forehead, feeling like an idiot. “You are Helga Hufflepuff?” He got an enthusiastic nod. “Rowena Ravenclaw? Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin.” They either nodded or gave a bow of the head. “I’m Harry Potter, uh, fourth year Gryffindor. Thank you for joining me. Why have I never seen your portraits before? I’ve explored the majority of the castle and I know I would remember you.”
“Of course you’d remember us, boyo!” Godric boomed. “Especially being from my house!”
Salazar rolled his eyes, but Harry could see there was a hint of fondness in that icy stare.
“Forgive them, Harry Potter, we haven’t had someone living to speak to for a very long time,” Rowena said with a long-suffering expression. “Fifty years ago, the new headmaster locked us away, hiding us and forcing us to keep our knowledge and history of Hogwarts from the students,” she continued. “Your desperate need for assistance woke us and pulled us out. Welcome to the Room of Requirement. It is what is required by the seeker. It can be as simple as this or as complicated as a jungle filled with thousands of creatures. It is also referred to as the Come and Go Room, sometimes the Room of Hidden Things. This is the room I created in Hogwarts.”
“Wicked! It really is exactly what I need, even the colors are ones I would have picked out,” Harry said with a grin.
“Because Hogwarts is sentient, no matter if people believe it or not. She knows what her students need. Whether she is allowed to help is another situation, like with us being hidden away,” Salazar said.
“You said the headmaster did it, wasn’t Dumbledore the headmaster back then?” Harry asked, nibbling on the biscuit, but keeping it neat so he didn’t talk with food falling out of his mouth like Weasley.
“That is who did the evil deed,” Godric boomed. “Taking us away from our students! Lout!”
“Godric, we are all right here,” Helga said with a scoff. “Inside voices as we used to tell the kids.”
“Sorry Hel, I can’t stand that headmaster. Look what he’s done to our Hogwarts!” Godric seemed to only be able to operate at LOUD.
“I know, we’re all frustrated and we all miss the kids,” Helga said sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Harry, it’s been hard to be kept from our legacy.”
“I can understand that. I grew up being put away, so I can understand on a much tinier scale,” he told them, remembering the dark cupboard and shivered.
Salazar leaned close to his frame, icy eyes peering at him. “What did they do to you, young man?”
“What?” Harry was thrown at the sudden eye contact.
“It’s obvious to us, sweetie, we spent centuries watching over the children of Hogwarts and we know when a child has been abused. Are you okay?” Helga asked. “Are you away from them?”
Harry’s eyes stung as they filled. These people knew him two minutes and they knew what people who knew him for years either missed or didn’t care about. He had a feeling it was the latter. “I’m okay. I’m away for the school term, so that helps. I’m only there for the summers.”
“Harry, why haven’t you left or been removed?” Rowena asked, looking like she wanted to reach out for him.
“Headmaster Dumbledore said that it’s all just a slight misunderstanding and that I shouldn’t be so ungrateful and that they love me and I should try harder. He said it’s important for me to be there for my protection and the Dursley’s protection,” Harry said, unable to keep the doubt from his tone.
Godric narrowed his eyes at his words, the cheerful, bombastic aura easing as he looked like he wanted to grab up his sword and go pillage something. Or stick something on a pike. “We’ll come back to the slight misunderstanding. Why would you need protection?”
“How long do you have?” Harry said snidely, taking a sip of water.
Salazar glared at him. “Are you really asking portraits if we have time?”
“I apologize,” Harry quickly got out. “It’s just a long story and, well, nobody usually wants to hear what I have to say.”
“Well we do, Harry,” Helga told him with a firm expression, very mother-ish. “And we have all the time you need.”
Harry looked at all of them and saw their sincerity. By this point in Harry’s life, he knew very well what it looked like when adults didn’t want to hear from him. The sincerity was new. “Okay, let’s see, where to start. A new dark lord rose up some time ago, long before I was born.” He smiled wryly at Salazar. “He is your descendant, actually. Tom Riddle.”
Salazar looked surprised. “Damn that boy! I thought I’d finally gotten him sorted out after that damn horcrux situation. He went downhill even more, huh?”
“You could say that, yes. What is a horcrux?” Harry asked. Their conversation had been limited so far, but he still felt like he was living through history.
“A nasty piece of black soul magic,” Godric said, a disgusted expression on his jovial face.
“The soul is splintered, usually by murder, the splinter is then placed in an object. In Riddle’s case, it was a diary. An inanimate object, but when used in a ritual, can bring a person thought dead back to a living body,” Salazar explained. “The problem being that each time the soul is splintered, it reduces by half. The diary has half of Riddle’s soul in it.”
Harry cleared his throat as he realized just what had happened in the Chamber of Secrets. “Well, it did have half.”
Rowena tilted her head at him and the other founders mirrored her. “What did you do, Harry?”
“Why do you think it was me?” Eyebrows in the air got him to throw his hands up. “Look, I was just trying to save Ginny. I didn’t know it was a soul piece or horcrux.” He quickly gave them the rundown of what happened second year until Salazar interrupted him.
~Are you a speaker?~
Harry grinned, he hadn’t spoken to a person in parseltongue before. ~I am. I’ve only spoken to snakes before. Mostly at my house until the basilisk.~
“That’s how you got into the chamber then. Are you a descendant of mine as well?” Salazar looked intrigued.
“Not that I know of,” Harry said. “It was hinted that because of Voldemort trying to kill me, he gave me some of his abilities, like speaking parseltongue.”
“Wait, hold on, he tried to kill you?” Godric interrupted.
“Stop!” Rowena demanded. “Now, we all want to know what happened, but if we start skipping around, we’ll be here all day and be more confused. Harry, please begin again. Tom Riddle became a dark lord. A pity, the boy had so much potential, he could have gone far and changed our world in the ways we needed. Please continue.”
Harry nodded. “Okay, I apologize for what I don’t know ahead of time. My parents were fighting in the war against Voldemort and for some reason, he went after my parents and me. He killed my dad and went to my room and told my mother to step aside so he could kill me. When my mum refused, he killed her,” Harry said and cleared his throat at the sound of her screams in the haunting chill of the dementors. “He sent the Killing Curse at me and whatever my mother did, however she’d prepared, it didn’t kill me. It just gave me a scar. Instead the curse shot back at Voldemort and obliterated him. Supposedly. Nobody else was there that I know of. Anyway. I was an orphan. I was delivered to my mother’s sister, Aunt Petunia, left on the porch in the middle of the night. He didn’t even bother knocking,” Harry mused.
“What? Who did this?” Helga demanded.
“Dumbledore, of course,” Harry said with a small sneer. “He took me from my family home and left me on the doorstep of a woman who hates magic, hated my mother and hates me. I lived there for ten years hearing about how worthless my parents were, how they killed people when they were driving drunk, how I wasn’t wanted, how they wished they’d been able to drop me off at an orphanage. But the headmaster had left them a letter saying that for their own safety, they had to keep me. He told me there are blood wards surrounding my aunt’s house that will keep Voldemort and his minions, the Death Eaters away. The wards are supposedly based on my mother’s sacrifice and due to her love, the blood wards were created and surround Aunt Petunia’s house since she shares my mother’s blood. I have to go back every summer because Dumbledore says the blood wards need to be renewed and they can only renew if I’m there. I guess,” Harry finished with a shrug. “Honestly, it sounds like a bunch of…”
“Shite?” Godric offered with a huff.
“Godric!” Rowena cried. “He’s a boy! Watch your language.”
“Well, he’s not wrong,” Helga chimed in.
“There is so much to dive into here,” Salazar said with a sigh. “First, child, there won’t be any blood wards around your relative’s house. I could tell you that just from you talking it being ‘their’ house as opposed to ‘my’ house or ‘our’ house. Blood wards are brought about by a sacrifice of blood for blood. So yes, your mother’s sacrifice could have created blood wards and it is very possible, that those wards are what protected you from the Killing Curse. But it wouldn’t have followed you, it just doesn’t work that way. If it was based on love and blood as explained to you, it would mean you would have love for and receive love from those in the home and you would have to feel like it is your home, which you clearly do not.”
“See? This is what has been kept from me! This is the kind of information I need,” Harry said with a deep sigh. “Thank you. That makes so much more sense. Now, on the topic of my mother’s love and sacrifice, Dumbledore says that is how I defeated Quirrell first year when he was possessed by Voldemort. When the professor came at me and touched me, his skin started turning to ash. I was terrified, I was only eleven, so I put my hands on his face and he just crumbled. There was a black mist that screamed out of him and escaped. Dumbledore said that means he wasn’t dead and will be back. Again. Maybe that’s the horcrux thing?”
“You were forced to kill when you were eleven? What led to that?” Godric demanded.
“Well, like I said, Voldemort was possessing Professor Quirrell and trying to find the Sorcerer’s Stone. It was being protected here at Hogwarts at the end of an obstacle course of sorts. My friends and I knew someone was going to steal it, though we thought it was a different professor. We told our head of house and she didn’t take us seriously. So we went and played music so Fluffy, the Cerberus, would go to sleep and we could go down to the course. Anyway, we got through it and I was able to take the stone from the Mirror of Erised. Voldemort wanted it and that was when we fought.” Harry thought of the word Godric used. Kill. He’d killed someone at eleven years old. Killer. Dumbledore and Hermione called it defeating Voldemort. Ron called it ‘taking him out’. Nobody had come right out and told him he’d killed. “I’m a killer,” he whispered, tears flooding his eyes. “It hasn’t hit me like this before.”
“Son, look at me,” Godric said firmly.
Harry looked at him, shamed by the tears streaking down his face.
“You were eleven years old, still a small child. You were put into an impossible situation where everything was against you. Everything. Your age, your skill, your size, your enemy, everything. You did what it took to survive. Is there anyone you know who wouldn’t have done exactly what you did? In that moment when you were under attack, fighting for your very life, the breath in your lungs, the heart beating in your chest. Did you do everything in your power to survive the battle?”
“Yes!” Harry cried. “I didn’t want to die! I just wanted to be safe.”
“Just as anyone would do,” Helga soothed him. “I would have done it and been happy about it. Do you think Voldemort or Quirrell would have felt bad for an instant if they’d succeeded in killing you?”
“Of course not,” Salazar sneered. “Voldemort is the type to kill anyone and everyone in his way. A small child that he sees as having defeated him already would have been nothing more than a stepping stone to the next part of his rebirth.”
“Harry, I want you to take a small break from talking to us. What do you do to relax?” Helga asked softly.
“Flying,” Harry immediately replied. At his foot popped his Firebolt. Looking around, he grinned when he saw the room now looked like it was the length and height of a quidditch pitch. “Wicked!” He hopped onto the broom and soared off into the distance.
“What has that poor child been through,” Rowena murmured.
“More than we know,” Godric said with a sigh.
“I have a feeling it isn’t over yet, either,” Salazar agreed.
“I think we have our answer as to Hogwarts finally being able to bring us forward. This child needs us desperately,” Helga said. “I’m going to have him sit down with me a few days a week so we can talk. He needs someone to talk to about all this. I would bet a hippogriff that nobody has offered the child mind healing before.”
“Eleven years old and he had to kill, after having lived through abuse,” Rowena shook her head. “You all notice he skimmed over his childhood, though we’d originally asked about the abuse. But he slipped when he said he just wants to be safe, not that he wanted fame or glory or what have you.”
“Very Slytherin move,” Salazar said smugly. “He may be wearing a Gryff tie, but that boy is a parselmouth which makes him an honorary Slytherin.”
“The boy is as Gryff as I am, he is. What do you think of his theory that his parsel gift is from the failed killing curse?” Godric asked. “It doesn’t sound conceivable.”
“Mm. I don’t buy it. I think he either has Slytherin ancestral roots or there is some other commonality between the two. I’ve never heard of transferring power or gifts except through blood adoption,” Salazar mused.
“I concur,” Rowena said. “It would make more sense to be a descendant however many times removed. Some magic comes back around to a family, especially if Mother Magic chose him for it. I would believe a random blessing from the Mother before I’d believe a missed curse. Ridiculous. Albus Dumbledore has much to answer for. This is just one student! What has he done to the hundreds or thousands of children who have passed through here since we weren’t able to watch over them?”
“I know Row,” Godric said grimly. “I think we’re all concerned for our kids and our school. Dumbledore. Waste of a wizard. A dark mark on Hogwarts and Gryffindor.”
They chatted some more, making some loose plans for how they could help Harry and begin to help the rest of Hogwarts children.
Harry finally dropped back down and called Dobby to bring him a light lunch. Luckily it was Saturday and a Hogsmeade weekend, nobody would be looking for him nor was he expected anywhere. Dobby assured him he’d be looking and listening in case Harry was needed.
“Putting aside your history, young man, why did you seek out my room today?” Rowena asked as Harry finished his meal.
“Well, the Triwizard Tournament is taking place here,” Harry began.
Godric’s eyes lit up. “Fantastic! Has it been exciting?”
Shrugging, Harry gave a light sneer. “I’m sure it is for most of the student population. Not me. You see, the cup was surrounded by an unbreakable age line, nobody under seventeen could pass through it. I saw two guys try and it backfired spectacularly.” He gave a chuckle at the memory of Fred and George flying back from the cup. “Unfortunately, after the three champions were selected, the cup selected a fourth name. Mine,” he announced, finishing his glass of pumpkin juice.
“But you’re fourteen!” Helga cried. “What are they doing to get you released?”
Harry chuckled bitterly. “The same thing all the teachers have been doing since I got here. Not a da… uh, not a single thing. Dumbledore and Snape agree there must be a plot afoot and that I should compete to uncover this plan. The ministry says it’s a binding magical agreement and I’ll lose my magic if I don’t compete. Meanwhile, the entire school thinks I found some way to get my name in there for fame and wealth and acclaim. Which just goes to show just how much they know about me. Anyone would know I hate all that stuff. I was so relieved when I heard about the tournament, you know?” Harry sniffed. “I was finally going to have a quiet year, study, maybe make some friends, cheer at the tasks. Now, I am despised again, getting hexed around every corner, people laughing at me and hoping to see me die. All of Hufflepuff are out for my blood since the true Hogwarts champion is from their house. I didn’t want this! I don’t want any of this!” Harry jumped up and began pacing, feeling overwhelmed.
Helga motioned at the others who could magically see each other to keep quiet. Harry needed this moment so his volcano didn’t explode.
“I was beat and enslaved like a house elf from the moment my parents died. Hated for being there, for being alive and forcing my freakishness on good, normal people. My cousin made sure no other kid would have anything to do with me under threat of getting beat up. Playing Harry Hunting until I’m so exhausted I have to just give in and let them beat me up. Then I got in trouble for getting blood on clothes or my pillow or my cupboard. So I’d get another beating from my uncle. Then… magic! I’m not abnormal, I’m a wizard like so many others, an entire world of people just like me. I wasn’t even in the world an hour before I realized that even here I’m a freak. Some love me for supposedly vanquishing their dark lord. Some hate me for the very same reason. Others expect me to become some child warrior and defeat anything dark that may rise up, calling me Savior. That’s certainly the picture Dumbledore painted and what the picture dozens of children’s books portray. Second year I was hated because I could talk to snakes. This year it’s being illegally entered into a magically binding competition that will either kill me because of the dangers of the tournament or because it’s a ploy to bring back the dark lord and I’m somehow involved. I think that’s why Dumbledore is making me compete.” Harry turned to them, eyes shimmering with tears. “Do you know what it’s like to have literally every person look at me with hate and anger and disgust? It doesn’t matter the age or school, everyone. The teachers even seem to think I did this just for attention. Nobody, not one living person in this castle believes me or is on my side. Except maybe Luna Lovegood. But in the end, I’m utterly alone. It’s like being back in that damn cupboard, hated for merely existing.” Looking down, Harry clenched his fists as tears finally spilled over. “Every day since my name came out of that cup I’ve been looking and hunting for some way out of this. To figure out how and why I have to compete when someone else did this to me and why aren’t they the ones forced to compete. But I’ve also given many thoughts to just giving up. Give up my wand and my magic and just go disappear into the muggle world. At least there I can be invisible. I can disappear among the masses, I might have to live on the street for a while to stay away from my relatives.” He let out a harsh laugh. “Hell, compared to them and Hogwarts, living on the streets sounds pretty promising.”
The four founders of Hogwarts, arguably some of the strongest wixen of all time, watched as one of their children began sobbing, bending over with the force of his grief and loneliness.
“Sometimes, I just want to disappear altogether,” he cried. Pulling up his sleeves he showed the scars from multiple attempts at disappearing. “They just kept closing up.”
Dobby popped up next to him and began rubbing his arms. “I’m so sorry great Master Harry Potter. I couldn’t let you die. You are Dobby’s friend.”
Harry collapsed to the floor. “I want to die, Dobby, you had no right! You know what it’s like to live in hell and you just want me to stay here?”
“Harry, don’t get angry at Dobby. It is part of the nature of an elf to protect their charges. Whether Dobby is your elf or not, he obviously sees you as one of his, he literally couldn’t let you die, not when he could do something to help,” Helga soothed. “He is your friend, you wouldn’t let one of your friends die like that, would you?”
Harry lay there, shivering with the force of his emotions, his sobs fading. Finally, he stood and hugged Dobby before he returned to his chair. “I’m sorry Dobby.” He saw Dobby’s tremulous smile before he popped away. Harry turned to the founders. “I wouldn’t let a friend die like that, but apparently I don’t know anything about having friends because I have none. And the ones I thought were my friends know what my relatives are like. Why haven’t they done anything? I would think that if Hermione was getting beaten and spent over a decade in a cupboard under the stairs and had scars on top of her scars, I would go and beat down the door until I got her out of there. I would leave my own home and take her on the run if I had to. She would never go back there again. Now, tell me what I’ve gotten wrong about friendship, because nobody has ever done that for me!” Harry was panting.
Rowena sniffled, Helga whimpered, Godric was growling and Salazar was hissing. They were all plotting. They would fix this one young life. Looking at one another, no one was sure who should speak to Harry right now, who would know the right thing to say.
“Harry, child, you have some really shite luck. I have no excuses for the pitiful people in your life, I don’t know them or their reasons. I don’t care about them right now, I care about you. You are a truly good person, we’ve only known you for a couple hours and we can already see everything good in you. Unfortunately, Fate has put you on this path, but it doesn’t mean you have to take it laying down. We’re going to get you through this bedamned tournament and get you away from those relatives. We care and we are going to be your friends and teachers. Everything you need to learn to not only get through the tournament but through your education as well. We have some friends who I’m sure would be delighted to aid you. Will you accept our offer of assistance?”
Harry stared at Salazar Slytherin. If he’d thought this was a bizarre dream, he still wouldn’t have predicted Slytherin to speak to him kindly, to have warmth in his crystal green eyes. He didn’t even think through the question, he wasn’t always sharp, but he wasn’t stupid. “I would be honored to learn from you. I’m grateful for anything you could share just beyond you all listening today.” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I think all that’s just been building up for a while.”
“Fourteen years I’d think,” Godric’s loud voice echoing in the still huge chamber.
“Sounds about right to me,” Harry said with a grin.
“We’re all very excited to teach you, Harry,” Rowena said with a warm smile. “I know we’ve all missed sharing with students.”
“Most definitely. I’d also like to speak to you one-on-one, Harry, I think it would benefit you to have someone to share these emotions with. I have no place in your life outside these walls and I have no desire to bring you harm. Just a sympathetic ear and maybe imparting some wisdom,” Helga said gently.
Harry met her hazel green eyes and saw nothing but pure intent. “I guess I could use some of that. Thank you,” he told her quietly.
“Excellent. We will meet Sundays and Wednesdays, here at eleven. We’ll create a corner that is just for us,” she assured him.
Nodding, Harry pulled out a spare bit of parchment and jotted down the note.
“Boyo, do you know anything about the tournament yet? Your education can be fit in anytime, but this isn’t something we can work around,” Godric told him.
“True. Well, the first task is dragons. That’s all I know. Dragons and all I get is my wand,” Harry said, shivering at the memory of the fire breathing creatures in the forest.
“Bloody hell!”
“Helga!” Godric looked scandalized.
“Bah! As if you weren’t thinking it,” the mild-mannered woman said.
Mild was a joke, Harry was learning that maybe the house of the badgers truly took after their animal.
“I know I was,” Harry said with a wink at Helga.
Salazar hissed a laugh. “I do like you, young Harry. Alright, dragons. Well, we might not have as big a problem as you might think. I have spoken to a dragon before.”
The room went silent when the man dropped that bomb.
“Wicked!” Harry cried, mouth hanging open.
“Quite,” Rowena said, suitably impressed.
“Is there any way you can safely get near a dragon ahead of time? I’m assuming you either saw them already or heard them? They must have them on the grounds by now or will soon,” Godric said, his battle-honed mind leaping around different strategies.
“I saw them last night. Haven’t slept since actually, I just kept wandering until Luna told me about the room. They are being kept in the Forbidden Forest. Do you think I should go down there and see if I can speak to them?” Harry began considering it.
“It would help as long as you’re able to remain unseen,” Godric advised.
“And safe,” Helga said with a scowl.
Godric waved his hand at her. “He already knows that.”
“Harry, when I spoke to the dragon, it was an old Ironbelly. It was like speaking with someone who has a different dialect. The words will be similar but you may need a moment to translate. For instance, in parsel, if we spoke of bathing, it would sound something like ‘clearing the scales of debris’, to a snake,” Salazar told him.
Nodding, Harry got it. “Makes sense.” He smiled wistfully. “There was a snake that lived in the Dursley’s garden. One day I was really muddy and took off my shoes and pants and the snake asked me why I was removing my scales.” He then turned bright red at talking about being half naked. Clearing his throat, he continued. “He was a great snake. Dudley saw him one day so I told the snake to leave so he wouldn’t get killed. Okay, I can do this, I can go talk to a dragon. What should I say?”
“First, make sure you use your manners. Dragons are an ancient species, they would expect you to be in awe of them. Once you’ve made contact, bow, use respectful words,” Rowena advised.
“Good point, snakes are like that too,” Harry agreed.
“Make sure they know that it is a contest and not something meant to harm them,” Godric said, pacing around his frame.
Harry observed that like most portraits, they seemed to be in a room and would grow smaller as they moved away from their frames. He’d even caught what looked like Rowena reaching over to touch Helga on the arm. It would be interesting to see the world from their perspective. For a minute.
“If we only knew what the challenge was, it would help things enormously. Then you could warn the dragons and maybe it would give you an edge,” Rowena said, also moving back and forth.
Harry joined them and wracked his mind. “Charlie!”
“Who, dear?” Helga asked as they all paused and looked at him.
“Um, Charlie Weasley, older brother to Ron, my friend who is no longer my friend. Anyway. Charlie is one of the dragon handlers, I saw him last night. Maybe if I find him, I can ask him. They would have to know, wouldn’t they? To be prepared for everything?”
“It would certainly make sense to do so, which means it’s a toss-up,” Godric said with a scoff.
Harry and Salazar grinned. Harry realized he was having fun. Having these four people concentrated on him to help him just to help.
“How are you going to do this and not get caught?” Rowena asked.
Standing, Harry pulled his cloak out of his pocket and threw it around his shoulders until he disappeared.
“Merlin!”
“Bloody hell!”
When Harry removed the cloak, he chuckled at their faces. “This belonged to my family. It helps me get around.”
“Harry, that is one of the Hallows!” Rowena cried, nearly pressing her face to her frame.
“One of the what?”
Clapping her hands, Helga got their attention. “Perfect time to begin our first lesson. History.”
Harry held in a pleased grin. He wasn't alone anymore. Portrait or not, he wasn't alone.