Something Better Than This

Chapter 17: Hogwarts, Homecoming

"Lumos," Hermione whispered. Then she looked as if she rather regretted it. The Chamber didn't exactly look much better with more light.

Water dripped somewhere.

Salazar gently disengaged himself from Jakinda and went to examine the Basilisk's head. It wasn't in very good condition, but the broken fang and ruined eyes were still discernible. So was the hole through the brain. He looked up to meet Harry's eyes.

Harry winced. And changed the subject completely. "We should all go upstairs and see... er, see what's going on."

Salazar nodded and turned to Jakinda.

Harry blinked. But he'd spoken English. He was pretty sure he'd learned to tell the difference by now.

Hermione added, "We'll want to find out the date. I hope we've arrived in the right time, but if we came back before we left, we'll have to avoid ourselves. I do hope it's not too far after."

"Right," Harry said. "Well, let's go."

Salazar strode off without further consultation, hissing commands to the doors. He stopped at the cave-in, frowning. There was enough space to squeeze through, but instead he stooped down and placed both hands on the mucky floor, his wand beneath them.

Harry felt a vibration coming up through his feet, a rumble like a deep low growl that only edged into hearing several seconds after it started making his teeth buzz.

"Reparo!" Salazar said, with a note of impatience in his voice as if he were repeating something to a slow student.

The rocks shuddered, jolted, and began streaming back into place. Harry's jaw dropped as a red liquid glow flared along the jagged edges, heat radiating into the chilly air, and the broken stones mended themselves. They settled into position, fitting themselves together like puzzle pieces, and finally the passageway was clear again.

"I never saw Reparo do that before," Ron said.

Hermione looked up uneasily as they passed under the repaired area. "Well, he's a very powerful wizard, and he did build this place...."

"Apparently not all by himself like everybody thought, though," Ron pointed out.

"Maybe all four of them could do that?" Hermione looked thoughtful. "If they actually built the castle, they must have used magic to make it easier. Rowena did mention a lot of structural spells."

Salazar was flicking cleaning spells left and right, evidently rather annoyed at the state of the Chamber. When they reached the slide down from the girls' toilet, he simply instructed it to "Take us up!" in Parseltongue, and... up they went, easily enough.

"Well," he said to Harry, looking around at the room with an air of some puzzlement, "What else have they moved around? I suppose you and your friends should lead the way."

"Headmaster's office?" Harry asked, looking around at Ron and Hermione. They both nodded, and they all set off.

The guardian gargoyle looked grumpier than usual, somehow, and Harry had tried the name of several sweets and in desperation (after he remembered that McGonagall did not share Dumbledore's precise tastes) "Have a biscuit?" before Salazar reached past him and put a hand on its head. Evidently even this new addition could be overridden by one of the Founders, and the gargoyle got out of the way.

Salazar knocked sharply on the door, then proceeded immediately to open the door and go in.

McGonagall was standing straight and stern behind the desk. Umbridge was smiling fatuously from a seat in front of it. Both of them looked up in shock as five uninvited arrivals trooped in.

Umbridge appeared to swell up like an infuriated toad, and when she caught sight of Harry she popped up to her feet. "I see your discipline problems continue! What is the meaning of having students in the school before term begins?"

"I," McGonagall said coldly, "do not consider Mr. Potter a discipline problem."

Harry thought this was more than decent of her considering how much trouble he'd gotten into over the years, even if he usually hadn't meant to. Evidently so did Ron, judging from the half-stifled laugh he was trying to turn into a cough.

Salazar swept his gaze across the occupants of the room, then held up one finger and proceeded across the office to the shelf with the Sorting Hat, which he picked up and placed on his head. The battered hat jumped, as if in surprise, before sagging back into its usual comfortable slouch.

Harry watched with interest and a certain amount of alarm as Salazar's eyes shut and his lips thinned; sweat broke out on his face, but at last he removed the hat and said in perfectly intelligible English, "Good day to you both. My name is Salazar Slytherin, and this is my daughter, Jakinda. I assume I need not introduce anyone else, as you all appear to know one another already."

Everyone stared at him. Umbridge's wide mouth opened and closed. McGonagall's eyebrows rose, and she looked after a moment to Harry, who caught her eye and nodded.

Ron burst out, "You didn't try that trick with the Sorting Hat with us!"

Salazar nodded apologetically to him. "I didn't think of it before, as it happens, but I'm afraid it wouldn't have done you any good. The Sorting Hat, having learned the changes in the language as they happened, was able to pass them on to my mind... but it knew nothing of the present-day form in the past. I hope it will work as well for my daughter."

He beckoned Jakinda over and set the Hat on her head, where it slipped down only a little too far and sat. And sat. And... sat.

Salazar glared at it. "You had better not be refusing," he began.

The rip at the Sorting Hat's brim opened, and the the whole thing gave a sort of apologetic shrug. "Sorry," it said, in the voice that usually proclaimed House assignments. "It's not the magic, you know. It's that I've already got some of your brains in me, so I can get further into your mind than hers. I can translate for her as long as she's got me on, though. Other than that... she'll have to learn it the long way."

"I see." Salazar touched Jakinda's shoulder lightly; she reached up to cover his hand, and then he folded his arms and regarded McGonagall and Umbridge, offering them a short bow. "I believe we were in the midst of introductions?"

Professor McGonagall recovered first. "I am Minerva McGonagall," she said, "erstwhile Professor of Transfiguration and Head of Gryffindor House, currently Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is Dolores Umbridge, from the Ministry of Magic." She paused. "I cannot say I was expecting you to return to the school."

"I cannot say I was expecting to find the Head of Godric's House garbed in green," Salazar replied. "I apologize for the interruption, but I'm afraid an unanticipated effect of one of my enchantments brought three of your students into my era, and Jakinda and I have joined them for the return to their own time. What is the date?"

"The thirty-first of August," Umbridge said, with a vicious satisfaction explained by her next comment. "We have been discussing the new Headmistress's failure to fill several job openings in the teaching staff in time for the beginning of the school year. Unfortunately, she has been stalling and has until my visit today refused to admit this failure, so the Ministry's appointment of replacements is under a certain amount of time pressure."

Salazar stroked his beard. "I would truly hate to inconvenience this Ministry by requiring it to find teachers at such short notice," he said smoothly. "As I do have a certain interest in Hogwarts and its success, allow me to offer my assistance. What do you need done?"

Everyone stared at him. Except Jakinda, who didn't seem to find this offer at all surprising.

"I should make it clear," McGonagall said slowly, "that Hogwarts has not ceased to teach Muggle-born students, and will not cease to do so. If your objections to this remain...." She raised her eyebrows pointedly.

Salazar shrugged. "I won't pretend to be pleased. I have never cared for trying to impress the ideas and practicalities of magic on Muggle-raised children with heads full of superstitions and misunderstandings. On the other hand, Hogwarts has evidently thrived ten centuries teaching Muggles' children, and who am I to quarrel against the weight of history?" A faint smile. "From what I'm told of the present day, Hogwarts is a better legacy than my own bloodline at the moment." He paused, his eyes steady on McGonagall's. "This school is dear to me, Headmistress. Entering it again was truly coming home. I'll even teach reading, if that's what you need."

McGonagall blinked. Twice. "We don't have a reading course... Professor Slytherin. Literacy is considerably more widespread than it was in your day. I could try to keep up Transfiguration myself, but do still need a Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. But I should also warn you... I'm informed that Lord Voldemort jinxed the post when he was turned down from it." She ignored Umbridge's disdainful sniff. "No one has lasted more than one year in a row since."

Salazar bared his teeth. The expression really could not fairly be called a smile. "I can teach either." He planted his hands on the desk, and a black jaguar lashed its tail once and looked into McGonagall's face before he changed back. "Both, if necessary. We each considered ourselves responsible for our own apprentices' education in all areas, for all we pooled our secrets. And perhaps I can break this jinx of his."

"You're not a snake?" McGonagall asked in surprise.

"No, I'm not. Some sort of panther. It's very embarrassing; you've no idea how Godric crowed."

The corner of McGonagall's mouth twitched. "Given the climate, perhaps he would have been equally entertained by your growing torpid during winter."

"Entertaining as this is," Umbridge broke in irritably, "I hardly think your proposal is adequate. One individual cannot fill both the Transfiguration and Defense posts, and it would not be practical or appropriate for the Headmistress to teach courses, much less to exhibit bias by remaining head of a House."

"I'll teach Defense against the Dark Arts," Harry said suddenly, two strides taking him over beside Salazar. "I did it in fifth year. But I can't be here all the time. Cut back the number of lessons, maybe, I'll still do better than Umbridge. Or Lockhart. Or bloody Quirrel."

"Hem, hem," said Umbridge, frowning at him. "Language, Mr. Potter. And you cannot seriously believe you are qualified for a teaching position, much less that you can hold one part-time!" She infused the word "part-time" with a level of scandalized scorn ordinarily reserved for special occasions, such as the discovery that there were Chizpurfles in your socks, or when Dudley said the word "magic" or "diet."

"You aren't High Inquisitor anymore," Harry said. "You don't get to decide what it takes to be qualified for a teaching position. Professor-- Headmistress McGonagall does."

Umbridge's nostrils flared. "Hogwarts is still under the authority of the Board of Directors, and must answer to the Ministry of Magic!"

Salazar said something extremely rude in Parseltongue. Harry rather wished he would say it in English, too. McGonagall might be shocked, but Umbridge really deserved it.

"Don't tell me you want the post back," Harry said. "You didn't seem to manage it very well last time."

"If necessary," said Umbridge, with an expression of long-suffering on her toadlike features, "I will resume the post. I expect discipline to be much better enforced than it was during my previous tenure, naturally."

"You shouldn't," said McGonagall.

Harry said, "How about this? I'll duel you for it."

"I beg your pardon!"

"You ought to," said Harry. "Seriously. I'll duel you for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. I don't mind. I know you were planning to use Cruciatus on me last time we talked to each other, but that's not really a worry -- I've faced people using Unforgivables before." He pushed aside the guilty thought that he'd tried one himself.

Umbridge spluttered.

"There will be no need for dueling," McGonagall said swiftly. "Mr. Potter meets all the formal requirements to teach at Hogwarts, and has demonstrated particular proficiency in Defense against the Dark Arts. Professor Slytherin," she continued, though she still sounded faintly incredulous about that part, "will teach Transfiguration and take over the position of Head of Gryffindor House. Gentlemen, you are hired. Madam Umbridge, thank you for your offer of assistance. Good day."

Umbridge looked as if she might explode. Harry hoped she would. But Ron and Hermione, too, had positioned themselves facing her, and Salazar was unabashedly looming. Most of the portraits were glowering disapprovingly at her. Dumbledore's still appeared to be asleep, but Harry thought he glimpsed a glimmer of blue under one lid.

"I was intimately involved in the construction and spellwork of Hogwarts," Salazar said with an air of polite menace. "Shall I have it show you out?"

Evidently Umbridge remembered that Hogwarts itself and this office in particular had not been terribly cooperative during her last stay. She stalked out.

The door slammed behind her.

"There's a tale, I gather," Salazar said. "I shall have to learn more about this time period than I had reason to ask before." He paused, one corner of his mouth curling up. "For example, what are the formal requirements to teach at Hogwarts?"

"There are none," McGonagall replied, "Beyond being appointed to do so by the Headmaster, Headmistress, or the Ministry. Generally our judgment is assumed adequate." She lifted her eyebrows at Harry. "Although regular attendance is usually expected. Where exactly are you planning to go?"

"I don't know yet," he admitted. He just knew that if he meant to find the rest of the Horcruxes, he'd have to leave eventually. He didn't want to explain that to McGonagall, though. "I... I didn't really expect to come back here. I have to deal with Voldemort." He certainly hadn't planned on agreeing to stay at the school, or teach -- what had he been thinking?

No, he knew the answer to that. He had to hunt down the Horcruxes and Voldemort, but he hadn't been able to stand there and let Umbridge worm her way into putting her hands all over Hogwarts again.

"I'm sure this is the best place from which to plan your campaign," Salazar was saying. "You'll need allies and more information, after all."

"I know there's a lot I have to find out," Harry began cautiously.

"Then you won't mind attending classes while you're here," McGonagall said. "And not teaching them."

Harry gave her a slightly exasperated look. "I don't have time. Headmistress," he added belatedly.

"Actually," Hermione began tentatively, "there are probably still things it would be... better... to study."

Ron shook his head at her. "If you're thinking of taking our NEWTs, somehow I don't think we're going to be able to focus on that."

Salazar blinked. "How did newts enter the conversation?"

"They're the exams at the end of seventh year," Hermione said. "When students finish at Hogwarts."

"Ah. Well, no, those will hardly be your first priority by comparison to seeking out Voldemort. But you may be able to receive some assistance nonetheless, and I'm sure the professors can be persuaded to be accommodating and assist you with further instruction on a more flexible basis." He smiled. "I certainly hope so. I would imagine there have been a number of magical advances and inventions I'll need to catch up on myself." He paused, raising an eyebrow at McGonagall. "And procedures. I didn't like to question your decision in front of the toad-woman, but... Head of Gryffindor?"

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Head of Slytherin is filled," she said. "Dolores Umbridge is correct -- if in nothing else -- that I should not remain head of any House, and I am only willing to go so far in putting Mr. Potter in the position of handling discipline for his fellow pupils. I hope," she said, glancing up at Slytherin keenly -- not very far up, either -- "that you will be able to restrain your partisanship regarding both Houses and ancestry."

They locked eyes for a long moment, McGonagall's lips thinned and chin lifted, Salazar's expression more relaxed and almost... fascinated.

"History wins," Salazar murmured at last. "And Godric too, evidently. I do look forward to working with you." He tilted his head slightly and beckoned to Jakinda. "May we discuss accommodations? I would prefer to keep my daughter with me."

McGonagall blinked. "She's not a student?"

"I'm a Squib," Jakinda said abruptly. It was easy to tell she didn't really know the words, even if she knew what she wanted to say. "And talking may be a problem, for a while." She reached up to touch the brim of the Sorting Hat. "Thank you," she added. "I will try to begin learning... without, now." And, with a determined expression, she lifted the Sorting Hat from her head and put it back on the shelf. She gave it an affectionate pat and went to stand by Salazar.

"Language lessons, then," McGonagall said briskly.

"I can help," Hermione volunteered.

"Thank you." McGonagall nodded to Hermione, then turned to Salazar. "We can see to arranging your rooms for two, then."

"Could we go send owls home?" Ron said. "We've been gone for weeks, and for another thing, none of us packed."

McGonagall's eyes widened slightly. "Of course. Inform your families. I should have thought of that at once."

"The Dursleys weren't expecting me," Harry said. His eyes kept going back to the portrait of Dumbledore. "Would it be all right if I... stayed in here for a little while?"

That drew some curious looks, but McGonagall agreed, and Ron promised to mention him in his own letter home.

Harry was finally left alone in the Headmaster's... Headmistress's office, now. He sat down in a chair opposite the desk and waited a while, then drew up his knees and sat with his arms wrapped around them as though he were much younger than seventeen.

At last, the snoozing portrait of Dumbledore opened one eye, then the other, and that familiar face looked kindly down at Harry from behind painted spectacles. "Good afternoon, Harry. I understand you've arrived just in time for term to start."

Harry swallowed hard. "Yeah. I wasn't -- I wasn't sure if I'd make it. I hadn't planned to." The words seemed ripped out of him; he hadn't planned to say that, unsure how Dumbledore would have reacted, though the decision had seemed good when he made it. "And then... well, it's been a funny summer."

"Tell me about it," Dumbledore invited him.

So Harry did. He said the funeral had been very dignified and the speeches had been very dull and not at all like Dumbledore himself, but that the white fire and phoenix song had made his heart ache. He told the portrait about Bill and Fleur's wedding, which Dumbledore was very sorry to have missed, and about Fenrir Greyback's attack on Gabrielle Delacour and her mother's vicious defense. He told Dumbledore about finding Trevor in the compost heap with a new basilisk named Maeve, whom he supposed would have to come to Hogwarts since Ginny would. Introducing her to Salazar Slytherin ought to be interesting. He told Dumbledore of finding out the locket he'd died for was a fake, of finding the real locket Horcrux in Grimmauld Place, of trying to bring it to Bill and being diverted to Salazar Slytherin's house in the woods with his Squib daughter. He told of the Occlumency lessons turned to Legilimency lessons with Godric Gryffindor, of Hermione and her runes and Ron and his chess pieces and blue lightning in twisting sand. He told him that Salazar Slytherin wasn't such a bad sort after all, really, and had been a lot of help and was now going to teach Transfiguration, even though the portrait had been around to see that much. He mentioned hating Snape.

"He is still ours," Dumbledore said softly.

"He killed you!"

"He did." The painted mouth smiled gently. "I had hoped it would not be necessary."

"It can't have been necessary." Harry's voice broke. "He used the Killing Curse. He hated you, I could see it."

"I had my reasons for trusting him. They still hold."

"What were they? What could they possibly have been?"

"I trust Severus Snape," the portrait repeated. Dumbledore shook his head gently, then looked over Harry's head. "Hush, Phineas. You never understood them in the first place. Harry, there are some things I still cannot tell you. I promised to hold silence on some of them, and I do keep confidences. Believe that you do not have the whole story."

"You said you'd made mistakes."

"So I did. So I have. But I still do not believe this was among them." Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "Now, let us talk of other things."

"Like what?"

"Well, for one thing... or rather several things... there is the trouble Minerva has been having with the Ministry."

Harry scowled. "Isn't Scrimgeour ever going to have any sense?"

"Believe it or not, Harry," the portrait said mildly, "Scrimgeour is not her primary problem. As you might perhaps have gathered, Umbridge does not approve of the powers he has granted to Aurors. I would be more inclined to agree with her reservations, of course, if not for the fact that she objects less to the permission to use Unforgivable Curses and to make arrests and hold prisoners in spite of contradictory evidence, and more to the fact that these powers are not available to her and to her department but only in the field. She also seems to feel some not inconsiderable loyalty to Fudge, and is less cooperative than he has been in supporting the new government. I'm afraid there have been some severe communications breakdowns... some of these are merely bureaucratic problems and have little effect on anyone who is unwilling to let themselves be paralyzed by such things, but the situation in Azkaban has, if this is possible, deteriorated badly."

"I know she's bad," Harry said, "but I don't see how she can be worse than Dementors."

"Ah, but Harry, some of the Dementors are attracted by familiarity if nothing else -- familiarity, and the knowledge that there has in the past been food for the taking there -- to return to Azkaban. And I believe you are familiar with Dolores Umbridge's views on the active use of spells against the Dark Arts... she will only permit the casting of a Patronus if the individual who wishes to cast it has gone through a complex authorization process and satisfied her with pledges of obedience."

"But that's stupid. That's ridiculous. It's not even an offensive spell like the ones she was complaining about before -- I've been hit with it, I accidentally hit Godric with it, it doesn't hurt people! Is she even pretending anymore?"

"She pretends to a love of order and correct procedure."

Harry sighed. "We've got the teaching part taken care of for now, anyway. I... well, I don't suppose I'm really qualified to get anybody ready for the Defense NEWT, but I couldn't just let her do it when what people need is to learn to take care of themselves and fight!" He winced. "Even though I need to find the Horcruxes. And Voldemort."

"You could have stood aside," Dumbledore said, "but you would have been less yourself for it. And Salazar has a point in that there are things you could still learn from the professors here, that might help you."

Harry looked up at him. "But you said not to tell people about the Horcruxes."

"You may want to mention to Salazar that it's a secret," the Sorting Hat said. "He's close-mouthed, but he may think you've shared the plan more widely than you've done. And get him to help you with your Legilimency practice."

"What?" Harry turned in surprise. "He never mentioned he was a Legilimens too! Neither did Godric."

The Hat gave a clothy chuckle. "He's better at doing than teaching it. Too secretive. But it sounds as if you're far enough along for him to be some help."

"Right, then," Harry said. He looked up at Dumbledore again. "I suppose I should go."

"Indeed." Dumbledore looked down over his glasses. The paint didn't catch the twinkle in his eyes... but maybe there just wasn't one there right now. He looked deadly serious. "I shall trust in your discretion, Harry. Tell what you must, when you must."

Harry stood up and took a deep breath. "All right."

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