The Best Minds of My Generation

The next evening, as Salazar continued his work on the spell books he was preparing, there was a knock on the door again. Sanding the page, Salazar stood, cracked his knuckles, and opened the door to greet Godric.

'Hello. Ready, then, are you? Hengist the Great awaits you,' he said, putting on a pompous voice.

'Yes, ready.'

'Good. He's waiting at his home,' Godric said, stepping into Salazar's room and closing the door. Then, turning on his heel, he disappeared with a pop, just as he had the first time they had met.

Salazar stood there, waiting. About half a minute later, Godric popped back into the room.

'Don't know how to Apparate?' he asked blandly.

'No.'

'You do know it's pissing rain outside?'

'I thought you were a sturdy Viking?'

'I could snap you in half, Slytherin.'

'Perhaps,' Salazar said, leaving the room.

Hengist lived in a huge house in the area of London that many members of the court resided in. Godric knocked twice on the door and stepped back. A beautiful woman opened the door and ushered the two inside, saying in soft tones, 'He's in the study.' Godric nodded and led Salazar up a flight of stairs and down a hall before he knocked twice on another door.

'Enter,' a voice said. Godric opened the door and waited for Salazar to step in before he closed it behind himself. A man stood, waiting. He was tall, thin and balding. His remaining white hair clung to his scalp in clumps. 'Salazar Slytherin?'

'Yes.'

'Hengist the Great,' the man said, stepping forward and indicating for him to sit. Godric remained standing, positioning himself by a window where he could see into the street below. The low light in the room combined with Godric's posture that almost expected violence made Salazar's hackles rise. 'So, Salazar, you wish to apprentice with me?'

'Yes. I've learned all I can by myself, and I need someone to teach me.'

'Have you ever had a master before?' Hengist asked.

'Yes, of a sort. I spent almost a year under the tutelage of a wizard called Hereric.'

'Hereric the Hunched?' Hengist asked, surprised.

'I suppose. He never described himself that way, but he was, er- hunched.'

'Well, the Hereric I knew was a great wizard. He was part of the king's entourage.'

'Yes, that must have been him. He mentioned he had worked for the king.'

'Why did you leave his tutelage? Hereric was a very knowledgeable wizard,' Hengist said.

'He died, sir. Almost four years ago.'

Hengist was very quiet for a moment. 'I see. That is very upsetting.' And indeed, he appeared very upset by the knowledge, except there was a small gleam in his eye that Salazar did not trust. 'A great man. Always had an answer to everything. Probably because he had access to so many books...'

Greed was hidden behind Hengist's words, and quickly Salazar recalled Ollivander's warning. 'Yes, he had a great many books,' Salazar agreed while assuming as closed an expression as possible. He wanted to glance over to Godric to see if the big man would betray anything, but he did not.

'I don't suppose you have any of his books? They would be of immense importance to your training,' Hengist said.

'No,' Salazar lied. At this, he dared a quick glance at Godric, who had seen the dozens of tomes within his room, and who had to know also that this was likely a lie. Godric had not moved from his position beside the window, and his expression was one of boredom. 'Hereric asked that the books be burned after his death.'

'Typical,' Hengist drawled. 'A great man, but so closed-minded about some things.' The man turned about, but not before Salazar noticed a calculating look sent towards him. 'A pity. However, I think I shall take you on. I've heard things from the north about you, young Slytherin. A Parselmouth, a learned man, and a warrior.'

'I'm not a warrior.'

'No?' Hengist asked, lazily reclining into a chair. 'It was not you who protected the Fulbright Abbey from attack by Vikings? It was not you who killed ten men to protect the monks?'

At this, Godric slid his attention from the street outside to Salazar.

'It was three,' Salazar answered quietly.

'Speak up, boy! You'll find no love lost for the Vikings in this room,' Hengist boomed. 'Except from Godric, of course,' he amended, as if Godric's opinion were worthless. 'No, the recent attacks are very bad for the kingdom. And especially for the king, whom I have sworn to protect.'

'Of course,' Salazar murmured.

'Ollivander tells me you'll be in his household while you are in London,' the old man continued. 'That is very good. Werricus is a good and loyal subject of the king. He will help you navigate your way through London. Return tomorrow at first light, and we shall begin your training.'

With that, Hengist waved Salazar and Godric from the room. They made their way silently onto the street and into the rain. Two streets away, Godric stopped.

'Thinking twice?' he asked, rain running down his face.

'Maybe.'

'I'd go quickly, if I were you,' Godric said as he began to walk. 'The last apprentice who tried to run, Odo, died before he left the shire.'

'Why do you stay, then, Godric?'

'It's complicated,' the big man said gruffly as he walked along the muddy streets. 'I went to Normandy to study under my uncle, for seven years. When he died, my two brothers were sent here to Hengist instead of to Normandy. I followed. They aren't nearly finished with their training, and Hengist won't allow them to leave until they have.'

'So you stay for them?'

'Yes. I know Hengist would not find me, but I couldn't leave my brothers. And one brother refuses to return to the Danelaw- he thinks London is the height of civilization.'

'What are the other apprentices like?' Salazar asked.

Godric stopped again, watching Salazar closely. 'Most are ruthless. They will do anything to win Hengist's favour, and they will do anything to undermine you. I am not bothered by their foolishness, knowing I am more talented and powerful than they, but...' He pulled his hand through his wet hair. 'You have to be stronger then them.'

Salazar thought back the monastery, to the laughter and disgust with which the other novices had looked at him. And how he had always managed because he knew that he was better then they had been.

'Then I will be stronger,' he said.

**

Godric woke with a groan and lay with his eyes closed. He could hear the rain, the ceaseless rain. Rolling over on the lumpy mattress, he stood, stretched, and made his way down the creaky stairs to the main room of the small house he and his brothers lived in.

Simon sat in a chair by the hearth, reading while stirring the remains of the last evening's dinner. He looked up as Godric entered the small room and then back at his book without interest.

'Where's Miles?' Godric asked.

'Out to the bakers,' Simon answered.

Exasperated, Godric wrenched the book away from Simon. 'You let him go out into the rain?' he demanded. 'The boy is ill!'

'As if any one of us can avoid the rain, Godric,' Simon said, reaching back for his book. 'At least we live in London, where he doesn't have to go to the next farm for bread.'

'You are a horrible brother, Simon. You are supposed to protect your younger brother,' Godric admonished.

'Well, we can't all be brave like Godric Gryffin D'or, can we?' Simon sneered.

With a growl, Godric slammed the door as he left the house to look for Miles. Miles always got lost in the twist and turns of the city, especially in the dark. He was only a lad, and he was used to the easier ways of the countryside, besides.

'Miles?' he called. 'Miles!'

'Godric?' a small voice cried from an alley.

Turning down the alley, Godric lifted his wand to light his way. There, at the back of the alley, Miles sat, covered from head to toe in mud. 'Miles, what are you doing?'

'I saw some people coming toward me. They were drunk, so I thought I'd just slide in here, so they wouldn't notice me,' the boy said as Godric helped him up. 'But they still saw me, and they beat me up for our bread money,' Miles finished.

Godric looked down at his brother and felt his heart turn over. The boy's eyes were so large and pleading... just like their mother's eyes. Godric had been fourteen when Miles had been born, and had been sent to Normandy just a few weeks later, but he'd always felt a connection to Miles.

Ten years later, with their long-suffering mother only a memory, Godric felt more than a connection to Miles; he felt an all-burning passion to protect him and see him happy.

If only Simon would feel it, too; they could be gone from London and Hengist and all the troubles this wretched city had given them.

'Are you all right?' Godric asked as he picked Miles up and slung him over his shoulder, as if he were a sack of grain. Miles laughed.

'I'm fine. I told them my brother was Godric Gryffin D'or and they ran away,' he said. Godric groaned inwardly at the name. It had followed him from Normandy- he was proud of being known for his courage, but those stories had more men wanting to fight him then the number of men he had fought in France to earn the name. 'They didn't give me back the bread money, though. Simon won't be happy.'

'Simon can be unhappy, Miles. I want you to clean up and get warm, understand?' Godric said as he re-entered the house. He set Miles down and watched him scurry up the stairs before turning on Simon.

'What happened to him?' Simon asked. Unlike Miles, who looked soft and sweet like their mother, Simon looked like their father- ruddy haired and handsome, but hard, too. And, unfortunately for Simon, he had also inherited their father's ability to drive Godric to a rage.

'The gang of men who beat him up, you waste of skin,' Godric roared.

Simon, to his credit, did not blanch. 'The boy's a wizard. He should have used magic to protect himself.'

'Yes. Blame the child for your mistake, Simon,' Godric growled. 'Father would be so proud.'

'It isn't my fault he's too timid to defend himself!'

'No, it isn't. It's your fault, however, that he should have needed to defend himself,' Godric said, pushing his brother from his chair and placing the stew on the table.

'Where's the bread?' Simon demanded.

Godric counted to ten slowly. 'They robbed him, Simon. There isn't any bread this morning.'

Miles chose this moment to thump down the stairs and into the main room, mud still stuck in his hair. Godric smiled as he withdrew his wand and waved it over Miles's head, getting rid of the mud.

'Is it true a new wizard is coming to Hengist?' Simon asked as they sat down to dinner.

'Yes,' Godric said without offering any details to his brother. He liked Slytherin very much, even if the man had obviously lied to Hengist the night before. Or perhaps it was because the man had lied to Hengist that Godric liked him, not to mention having stolen the priest's coin-purse when the man had tried to cheat him. He had judged Hengist quickly and accurately. There was such a conflict in the man that it appealed to him: sly but honest; innocent, but not naïve.

And while he had quickly decided he could trust Salazar, he had slowly come to learn he could not always trust Simon, and so he kept his opinion to himself.

It was one of life's disappointments that he couldn't trust his own blood.

Breakfast finished quickly, and soon the three made their way to Hengist's house on the other side of the city. London would not fully come alive until well after the sun rose, but there were men and women out on the streets, starting yet another day of rain. Dunne, one of the only witches Hengist had accepted as apprentice, fell in with them a few streets from the house.

'Good morning,' she yawned, smiling weakly at Godric before giving Miles the full power of her beam.

'Good morning, Dunne,' Miles said cheerfully, hopping a bit. Miles was a bit in love with the pretty witch. 'You look tired. Is your baby still crying all night?' Unfortunately, Miles didn't understand when a woman was spoken for.

But then, Godric hadn't been pleased to learn that Dunne had been spoken for, either. He had tried very hard not to care for her because it was not fitting for a man of noble character to poach. At least not if one cared for the young lady.

It really did not help Godric's peace of mind that the cur had decided to run off in the middle of the night.

'Mmm, yes, she is. Poor thing is colicky. Driving my parents a bit mad,' Dunne said. 'I hear the new apprentice has a reputation,' Dunne continued, looking to Godric for information.

'Yes,' Godric replied gruffly without glancing back and knocked twice on the door of Hengist's house. Rowena, his wife, answered the door.

'You're early,' she said with a smile. 'Why don't you join the others in the kitchens before you begin?'

Simon and Miles cheerfully agreed and ran towards the kitchens. Godric, Dunne and Rowena followed at a slower pace, speaking quietly.

'How are you, Dunne?' Rowena asked. 'How's Leofewen?'

'She's sick again,' Dunne admitted. 'I thought it was just the colic, but now I'm not so sure.' The worry was thick in her voice. 'I'm scared, I suppose; I wanted to stay with her, but...'

But Hengist would not allow it.

'Don't worry,' Rowena said. 'I'll go to your home today while I am supposed to be at court. I'll see if I can't find a remedy this evening.'

If she could drug Hengist to sleep so she could have a look at his books.

'No! It's too dangerous!' Dunne said half-heartedly.

If Hengist learned that Rowena was sneaking a look at his private books, he would not be happy.

And Hengist was dangerous when he was upset.

'You should speak to Merewenne Ollivander,' a voice from the shadows of the hall said. Dunne and Rowena jumped and gave a squeak.

'Is that you, Salazar?' Godric asked, recognizing the quiet tone.

'Yes,' the man said, drawing away from the shadow. 'Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.'

'What were you saying about Merewenne Ollivander?' Dunne asked.

Salazar gave a small bow to Dunne, saying, 'Merewenne is very skilled in the healing arts. And she's raised six children. She might be able to help.'

'Of course!' Rowena said brightly. 'I'll fetch her this morning, Dunne.' Then, turning back to Salazar, she introduced the two. 'Salazar, this is Dunne. And I am Rowena.'

The two nodded at each other and were making their way towards the kitchens when they heard Hengist coming down the stairs. Godric's stomach churned at the sight of the man. No horror that Godric had ever faced quite compared to this man. When he had first come to Hengist three years previously he had worked feverishly for his approval, not understanding those older apprentices who had worked in fear.

And then Odo had fled, and Wulfwin had been sent to practice a new spell Hengist had created. Wulfwin had returned, pale and haunted, having killed his best friend.

Godric wondered why he had not noticed earlier the evil that streaked through Hengist's soul, the thirst for power and fortune that could not be quenched. Rowena, having studied under Hengist for years before marrying him after his first wife died, swore that he hadn't always been like that. Something had changed in him.

And again, Godric wondered why Hengist was taking on more and more apprentices, as if he cared at all for the wizarding world and its education.

'Oh, I see Salazar is meeting everyone! Excellent, excellent,' Hengist said so cheerfully that Godric gave a quick glance at Rowena. 'Salazar comes from the north, just like you, wife.'

'I'm from southern Mercia, Hengist,' Rowena replied brightly. 'That isn't quite the north.'

'Of course, of course,' Hengist said absently. The other apprentices, having heard Hengist's voice, came out into the hall as well, awaiting their morning instruction. Hengist turned to them. 'This is Salazar Slytherin,' he introduced. 'Salazar comes to us from studying with Hereric the Hunched.'

'This morning, I'd like you younger ones to study their Runes while the older pupils work on transfiguring potions. Salazar, do you know the Runes?'

'Yes.'

'Excellent. I'll join you in brewing potions.'

And so Godric had no reprieve from Hengist that morning. The man patrolled the room, crowded now with twelve men and four women, all working on different potions. Salazar was told to work with Ulric, one of Hengist's favourites.

By lunch, it seemed clear that while Salazar was not quite as learned as the others, there was plenty of talent in the man. His offering of the Polyjuice Potion, a recently discovered potion, was fairly good and successfully turned Wilbert into Osbert for the duration of their lunch hour.

'Very nice,' Godric said as he sat beside Salazar at the table. Miles slid into the seat beside him, asking why there were two Osbert's. 'Because Salazar here knows how to brew a proper potion.'

'Oh, good,' Miles said happily, and began chatting away.