Tale of a Time Long Gone

A/N: Ta-da-da-dum! Chapter ten is here! Nothing much to say, but I'd like all of you to read my URGENT REQUEST:

Yes, well, this is how it goes: my lovely beta, Mina, is currently unable to continue beta-ing the rest of the story, due to circumstances beyond her, and so the last ten or eleven chapters have been left unbeta-d. Does any of you want and able to do the rest of the beta work for me? Before I turn to the proper forum at FictionAlley Park I would like to see if any of you who are already familiar with the story to some extent would like to do it for me.

That said, here is the usual thank you to Mina, who has done a wonderful job as always!

Thanks, Mina!

In this chapter: Now that Helga has made her spontaneous suggestion, what are the four to do? They can't stay at Bran and Dahlia's because Bran's ultimatum is almost at its end. So what now? Go to the next relative, of course! Meet old friends and family as the four strive to become the greatest historical figures the Wizarding World has ever known! And... well, again, the title says it all...

Enjoy!

Chapter 10 - Capture of the Warthogs

"What is Hogwarts? Is it a castle? Is it a school? Is it an historic monument? In truth it is all of those and none of them at the same time. For each witch and wizard it symbolizes a different thing. Each one has their own traditions concerning the ancient building.

"The next question we must ask ourselves is: where is Hogwarts? Unfortunately, we may not answer this question directly - for it is impossible to include a map. The castle is unplottable and therefore its exact location is unknown. What we can say, is that the castle is situated near a lake which once upon a time was simple referred to as the Loch. The wizarding village nearby was also called the Loch, though modern readers will realize that it does not go by that name anymore.

"On the shore of the Loch was once an old fort from the days of the Romans. It was nameless, for its significance had been little. It had been abandoned even before the final retreat of the Roman Empire from Britain and had long since fallen into ruin.

"The Founders, in their search for a location in which they would build their home, had stumbled upon the ruins of the fort and had decided that it was the best place for them..."

-Hogwarts, A History; Author Unknown

Ceridwen Hyledd Gwyneira Elain Gryffindor was tired. It had been a long day for her and all she wanted was to go into her warm bed and sleep the day off.

She was not old - only in her fifties - but that night she felt as if she carried a mountain on her shoulders. She felt heavy and worn.

For the past year or so - ever since she left her brother Gladwyn's house - she had been playing Lady of the House for her old friend Sir Rhys. His wife had died a few years prior and none of his sons were married as yet, so when she had arrived, the house at the Loch was in shambles.

That was then. She felt quite at home in Rhys' house now. Here no one badgered her to get remarried. Rhys had taken care of that little unpleasantness. As an old friend of Gawain, the dear old man felt he was responsible to keeping the honour of his friend's widow. He vehemently chased off any suitors who decided it was their duty to 'save' Gawain Gryffindor's beautiful wife from her grief.

Those people made her want to lose her dinner. They were sickening. Sometimes she wished Godric was there to show them what he thought of people trying to use his mother.

Thinking of her son, Ceridwen felt she had to smile. The boy had so much temper to vent out on people. He had always been a hothead. She had not seen him in years, a fact that made her a bit saddened. When Ambrosius had made him and Salazar Servants of the Council she had wanted to go to Stonehenge and wallop the miscreant soundly. Only Gladwyn's threats to gag and bind her had made her settle back down. She had never been closer to killing her own kin.

The recent news of the Council hunting Godric and three others down caught her by surprise. She had not heard from him in quite a few months, living on tidbits Dahlia could give her from Salazar's letters. He was always the more responsible one in those matters. So when Sion came excitedly into the house, holding a rough sketch resembling Godric, saying Ambrosius wants him dead, she was very much alarmed - and in a way, proud.

Sighing, Ceridwen slid out of her day-clothes and into her nightshift. All through the day she and Rhys' two youngest boys, Haul and Siarl, had laboured around the house, preparing it for the feast of their eldest brother's wedding the following evening. There were chickens to roast, pigs to bleed, fruits and vegetables to pick, clean and cut, butter to churn, cauldrons to boil... on and on the list went. It was long past sunset and Ceridwen's bedtime was long gone. When she had finally locked the house only moments ago, she could have sworn she had heard her bed calling her name.

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It felt as though she had just closed her eyes when frantic knocks on her chamber's door woke her up. She mumbled something incoherent and tried to go back to sleep, but the knocking did not cease.

Ceridwen tried to ignore it, but soon the person knocking called, "Ceridwen! Ceridwen! There are strangers asking to be let inside! Please get up!"

With a long-suffering groan, she got up and wrapped herself in her winter cloak, and trudged to the door.

There were a lot of downsides to holding the keys to a house. Thank Merlin that tomorrow that Lleulu girl is taking over the keys... her sleep-fuddled mind grumbled.

"Could you not wake me up more quietly, boy?" she huffed at Sion, the man to be married on the morrow. "I daresay you have raised the ghosts of your forefathers with your shouts."

"My apologies, Aunt Ceridwen," the young man said sheepishly, "but the strangers have threatened me with violence were I not to call you - and one of the women said she will... she will..." he gulped. "Well, that she will do something that will cause me great embarrassment with Lleulu tomorrow night."

Ceridwen shook her head exasperatedly. This boy is most definitely the shyest one I had ever met. Twenty three years old and shies away from bluntness. I must speak with Lleulu before the wedding tomorrow. She was also very interested to know why such a coarse-tongued woman would want to get into Sir Rhys' home. "Come along, then, Sion," she told the boy. "And have your wand at the ready. We must defend this house if the company is not favourable."

She made her way down to the ground floor, where Sir Rhys and his other six sons were already milling about.

"See, Sion?" she told him plaintively. "I told you your knocks were too loud."

"What is going on?" Rhys asked, still in the act of pulling a robe over his night things.

"Guests," Ceridwen answered curtly and hurried to the front door with the ring of keys. "Sion, come with your wand at the ready. I do not want this house overridden by thugs."

She unlocked the door and opened it to a crack, holding her wand tightly under her cloak. "Identify yourselves if you wish to enter this house," she said.

"It is cold outside, Mother," said a familiar voice in a whiny tone. "Can we discuss it inside?"

"Godric!" she screeched, flinging the door wide open and throwing herself into the arms of her son, entirely oblivious to her unladylike behaviour.

"Hello, Mother," he chuckled. "Can we please take this inside? We are freezing here."

"Oh." She turned, a little embarrassed, to Rhys. "Rhys? Is it...?"

The old man nodded without hesitation. "Of course. I would not dream of leaving travelers in need outside on such a cold night."

With a feeling of relief, Ceridwen moved aside to let the four companions come in. When they were all inside, she locked the door again and turned to face the newcomers.

They were all a little mud-splattered, and the wind outside had tousled their hairs, but they seemed to be all in one piece and well enough.

"Mother, Sir Rhys," Godric said politely. "You already know Salazar. These are Helga and Rowena. We will not impose on you for long. We just came here to ask for directions and then we will leave."

"Nonsense, dear boy!" Rhys cried. "You cannot possibly mean to leave this house in such foul weather! I will hear none of this! Come, come! Into the kitchen all of you! Haul, Siarl, Berwyn, and Goronwy! I want the four of you back in bed. Ilar, Padrig and Sion - you may stay. Now, boys! Before I will use my wand against your hide! Go to bed!"

The four youngest boys scampered out. The older three followed them into the kitchen, where the huge fireplace was alight. They all sat on the low benches near it and lapsed into silence.

Ceridwen gazed at her son's companions. She had known Salazar for years - having watched over him for hours whenever Gawain and Searlas were busy discussing politics and planning ways to go around Ambrosius' dictatorship. Merlin knows she had spanked the boy enough times to know every inch of him. Not quite as many times as her own boy, however. Godric had not been the best of children.

Salazar had not changed much in the years she had not seen him. He looked a little more tired and had a sort of defeated expression on his face, but his eyes still shone in determination.

The smaller girl - Helga - was sitting between Salazar and the other girl. It looked as though she was trying to hide herself in their shadow. Her small, round face was very attractive, but her eyes had a haunted look in them. She had seen much.

The second girl, whom her son called Rowena, was entirely different. She was beautiful, but in a way that told Ceridwen that she was completely unaware of it. She held herself with pride. There was something in her features that nagged her. She was almost certain she had seen her before.

Rhys reached that selfsame conclusion, it seemed, for soon he said, interrupting the silence, "Have you ever been to the Loch, dear girl? I could have sworn I have seen someone remarkably like you at some point."

Rowena raised her face and looked directly into Rhys' eyes. Something in the directness of the gaze made Ceridwen think of a predatory bird. "I have never been to the Loch, Sir Rhys," Rowena said in a clear voice. "Nor have you ever seen me. However, from the tales of Lords Slytherin and Gryffindor, you have known my father - and perhaps my mother as well."

"She is Raven Lord's daughter," Godric clarified.

"Raven Lord's daughter?" Rhys said in not more than a whisper. "Ryan's little one?"

Ceridwen was just as shocked. She had heard all those years ago that Ryan Ravenclaw had finally married his sweetheart - but it never occurred to her that a child had been conceived.

Now that she knew why Rowena was so familiar to her, she watched her more carefully. She could now easily determine the distinctive features she must have received from her father. Merlin knows she had seen Raven Lord enough times to recognize these features as his.

"How..." Rhys' voice stuck in his throat. He cleared it. "How is your father?"

Rowena lowered her intent gaze and blinked hard. Ceridwen guessed she was holding back tears. Her heart felt heavy. This was not a good sign.

"He is dead," the girl said with difficulty. "Almost three years now. The Muggles from the village nearby burned him."

A movement from her side caught Ceridwen's attention. She glanced at her son. His hands were twitching in his lap, and she was certain that he was fighting an urge to go forward and comfort Rowena.

A smirk spread on her lips. This may not have been the time to think of this, but her mother instincts chose that moment to kick in.

"I am sorry to hear that," Rhys said, bowing his head. "He was a dear friend to me, and one of the best men I had had the pleasure to have known."

"I thank you for your kind words," Rowena said, suddenly completely in control again, "but this is not a time to bring back an old pain. We must ask you for directions and tomorrow, before dawn breaks, we will leave you in peace."

"Where do you wish to go from here?" Rhys asked, fighting to control his own emotions and trying to be as brisk as possible.

"You once mentioned Caves when you were teaching me the ways of the Knights," Godric explained. "We thought we would go there and hide until we are strong enough to show our faces in the community again."

"Caves?" Ceridwen exclaimed, glancing at Rhys. "Surely you don't mean the Caves above the village? Children play there these days! It will not be a safe place."

"Then we have to go to a place far from the Wizarding World," Salazar said with finality. It was the first words she had heard him utter, and she was shaken with the realization of how similar to his father's his voice had been. "We have no choice, Godric. This was our last idea."

"Not true, Salazar," she said, a picture of a place in mind. "There is one place where I am certain you will be safe. Not even the bravest of children venture there."

"What place, Ceridwen?" Rhys asked, his brow creasing. "I know of no place in which they may hide from Ambrosius' prying eyes."

"The old fort."

She knew it would take a long time to convince Rhys, but she had not expected him to oppose the idea so vehemently.

"No!" he cried, his eyes widening. "I will not have this! They cannot go to the old fort! It is a dangerous place."

She snorted. "No more dangerous than any place in Britain as far as they are concerned. And in the fort they will at least be saved from Ambrosius' creatures. None will dare get near the place."

"There is a monster there! Will you send your only son to the jaws of the murderous creature?"

"Why do you underestimate your own protégé so? My son is one of the greatest warriors of the age and one of the strongest wizards. I doubt this phantom can hurt him or one of his companions."

"A... a monster?" a timid voice asked.

Ceridwen turned to look at the one who had spoken. Helga looked up at her, her eyes wide with fear. "A real monster?"

She realized that Helga was but a girl. She wondered just how old she actually was.

"Of course not!" she said, waving aside Rhys' glare. "There is no monster. Just a fable made up by country folk who had not had a better thing to do with their spare time or had been too long in their cup of ale."

"So what is this old fort, Mother?" Godric asked in fascination. She remembered fondly that he had always been keen on stories where there was an evil monster to be vanquished.

"A jumble of ruins a few miles away, just on the shores of the Loch. The Romans built it a long time ago and left it for ruin. It is a rather stark place, and you may have difficulties at first, but there are enough building materials there and food sources aplenty in the nearby forest, so I do believe that it is the best place for you. You will also benefit from the fact that the village people all around do not dare go near the place in fear of the monster."

"Sounds like a grim place to build a center of operations at," Rowena said. "But you are right, Lady Gryffindor, it is the best place for us. Can you lead us there?"

"But of course. Tomorrow morning, then?"

"It is just a few hours away, Mother," Godric said worriedly. "Are you quite sure you are up to it?"

She mock-glared at her son. "I am not that old, my boy. Please do not insult me. Boys! To bed! You have a big day tomorrow and I will not be here until lunchtime. I want everything to be ready by the time I am back. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Madam," the three muttered in unison.

Ceridwen watched their retreating backs fondly. "They are such good boys. Why were you such an awful child, Godric?"

"Mother!" Godric protested. "I was not that awful!"

Ceridwen was gratified by Rowena's small snigger at that revelation. She liked that girl. "You, too, Rhys. You may not be bridegroom, but trust me; you are not going to be idle tomorrow. You will not rest until we have that boy of yours safely bedded."

The old man blushed. "I do wish you would not speak so bluntly, Ceridwen."

"Why ever not?" she demanded with raised eyebrows. "You know as well as I do what happens after a man and a woman marry. Unless you still believe babies arrive from under leaves of lettuce?"

His blush deepened and he did not meet her eyes. "I will go to bed."

"You do that."

Once Rhys was out of the room, she turned back to the four and found that Helga had fallen asleep on Salazar's shoulder and that Godric got up and was busily stirring the fire. Rowena, however, was looking directly into her eyes. The corner of her mouth twitched.

"Something amusing, Madam Ravenclaw?" Ceridwen asked mildly, fighting her own amusement.

"Nothing at all, Lady Gryffindor. I was merely... watching. You handle Sir Rhys well - much as my mother handled my father."

"Your mother is Rosalind Fitzpatrick, is she not?"

"She is, though she goes by Ravenclaw since she married Father. Did you know her?"

"Not well. She was best friends with Seraphine - Salazar's mother. I was a friend of Seraphine, and so we knew each other and were on friendly terms. She is a good woman - and a strong one to leave all comforts of society and go to exile together with the one she loved."

Ceridwen thought she saw Rowena blink back tears. "You are fond of Sir Rhys, are you not?" the girl asked, changing the subject.

"I am very fond of him, yes," Ceridwen answered warily. "Why do you ask?"

"It just seems weird, that you are so fond of each other, that both of you are widowers, yet you do not..." her words faded. "I am not being too bold, am I? I have rarely seen a relationship between a man and a woman that did not consist of-"

Ceridwen laughed. "Oh, I see. No, it is not too bold of you, dear. You are much in the same situation with Salazar, are you not? You are both fond of each other and do not have marital ties to stop you, yet you remain friends. It confuses you, does it not? You were never told that such a thing existed! My dear girl, a man and a woman can be just friends - like any pair of girls or boys are. Rest assured that there is nothing wrong with the sisterly feelings you have for him."

"You only named Salazar."

Ceridwen smiled in what she hoped was a mysterious fashion. "I have my reasons. Now I must go to bed. I will see you in a few hours' time." And she left before the young woman had a chance to question her further.

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The morning dawned crisp and cool. Ceridwen and the four companions were already up and far away from the village. She had burrowed a small palfrey from Rhys' stables and led them down the slightly jagged landscape towards the Lake.

They rode slowly because the grey light did not allow them to be careless. The ground was uneven and treacherous to the unwary.

Most of the way she had to fight a small smirk. Seeing the way her son sat behind Rowena on his horse, touching-not-touching her sides as he held the reins... It reminded her so much of Gawain's uncertainness during their courtship period. Her eyes clouded as she remembered what happened afterwards.

Her family did not accept her choice. Her family was very strong, but kept to itself and did not meddle with the business of the Council. Gawain Gryffindor was the exact opposite of them. Even at eighteen it was a known fact that Ambrosius wanted him gone - preferably dead, but if that option was not possible, he would have made do with demotion.

Her family had wanted her to have nothing with such a person.

She had told them to go and stick their oversized noses into someone else's business. That had been the day her father had had her thrown out of the house, never to return.

For almost twenty years she had lived with Gawain. When he died, she had no one to turn to. She was a thirty seven-year-old widow with a five-year-old son, her father did not want her back, and her husband had no other family.

Only then, after a twenty years rift, her brother Gladwyn invited her to live with him. That was where she had lived until Rhys had invited her to his home, knowing that she disliked the fuss made around her unmarried status.

She swore that such a thing would not happen to her own son.

They rode in near silence for a long time. The reason why the silence was not complete was the whispered argument she heard coming from the direction of Godric and Rowena. They were arguing about Godric's hands and where he ought to put them.

"-Exactly am I supposed to-?"

"-Definitely not there!"

"-Need to-"

"-hold the reins, my-!"

"-So disagreeable?"

"-Me?"

Ceridwen chuckled to herself. She really liked that girl.

"We are almost there," she said, looking ahead. "Just a few more minutes of easy riding."

Just a few moments later she halted her palfrey and dismounted. "Behold," she said in an amused voice. "The ruins of Cormag's Fort."

They were standing right on the shore of the Lake, and not far off, clearly in sight in the grey light, were the ruins of a large stone building. Piles over piles of rubble indicated that this was once a very active place. There was evidence of towers which once had stood in the corners of the fort, and massive walls made of thick blocks of stone.

"Come," she invited them. "Let us go and look for that monster before we have you settled in."

Together they walked the short distance to the ruins.

"So, Mother," Godric started conversationally. "What is this story of the monster?"

"Well," she said in the same storyteller voice she used to use whenever telling her son a bedtime story. "The dry facts of the ruination of the fort are that the Romans left it when fighting the Scottish tribes became too much of a hassle for them. The truth is that they left it long before that. One day, when the fort was still whole and full of soldiers and their women, an old man appeared at its gates. He asked shelter for the night, for the country was unsafe at the time, and the nearest village was too far off for him to get there before nightfall.

"Laughing, the soldiers manning the walls said that if he would swim in the Lake naked, they would let him in.

"Now, this was at the very start of winter. The Lake was already beginning to freeze, and the sun was already down. The man, however, took the soldiers at their word. He removed his clothes and swam in the Lake until he could not feel anything. Then he climbed out and discovered the horrible truth.

"Not only did the soldiers lie to him, not only did they not intend to let him in - they had also stolen his clothes while he was taking his swim.

"I suppose that if the soldiers had known that this man was a wizard, they would not have done that. But they had not known and now the wizard wanted revenge. He knew he was going to die - his wand was in his coat's pocket - so with his last strengths, he invoked a curse that had never been used before. The one of the Wizard's Death. Each wizard can curse someone with their dying breath - though it is not a known thing. And he cursed the fort, willing a terrible beast to plague them.

"The soldiers tried to kill that beast, but nothing worked. They left the fort, and soon it fell into ruin. The beast, however, still dwells among the ruins and is said to kill all who comes near them," she finished the story with a dramatic overtone.

"What kind of a beast is it?" Rowena asked, rather ruining the effect.

Ceridwen shrugged. "A giant beast that had never been seen in Britain. That's all they say."

While she was telling the story, they reached the ruins and entered them. There was nothing much left standing - a few pieces of wall and the start of a staircase was about all.

As they reached the heart of the old fort, the companions slowly drifted from one another. The sun was starting to rise and they could see a little better now.

Ceridwen found a large stone with an interesting inscription in Latin when a shrill scream caused her to turn sharply and run towards the source of it.

As she neared it, Helga bumped into her, crying. "There is a monster!" she almost shouted, tears streaming down her cheeks. "There are two of them! I saw them! I saw them!"

"Helga!" Rowena, who had just arrived, snapped. "There is no such thing as monsters. Show me what scared you."

Helga held tightly to Ceridwen and shook her head.

"Then tell me from what direction you came."

The girl pointed mutely. Rowena walked through a crumbling archway and into a shadowy area. Salazar and Godric, who reached them just as she disappeared, attempted to call her back, but she ignored them.

"I am going after her," Godric said. "She should not go there by herself."

But before he had a chance to follow her, they all heard a loud, clear laughter coming from the shadows beyond the arch.

"Come and see your monsters, Helga!" Rowena's voice called. "Why - they are so scary."

Slowly, the rest of the company passed the archway. Just beneath a whole piece of wall, Rowena was standing with her wand alight, showering golden light on two objects.

"Monsters!" Helga shrieked, holding Ceridwen so tight that she feared the girl may stop her blood circulation.

"Oh, calm down, Helga. These are merely statues of boars," Godric said, walking up to the two gruesome statues. "Very ugly boars, at that," he conceded.

"Those are not boars, Godric," Rowena said scathingly.

"Then, pray tell, what are they, since you seem to know everything about everything?"

Ceridwen winced at her son's reply. That boy needed a firm talking-to - and soon.

Rowena seemed to think that as well, for she glared at him and said, "They are warthogs, you illiterate pig. And in case you did not know - A pig is not a boar - nor is it a warthog. That was just for your general education, since you seem to know nothing about anything!"

She then walked off to sulk.

Salazar rolled his eyes and gently disengaged Helga's fingers from Ceridwen's cloak.

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As Ceridwen prepared to leave the companions and return to the preparations for Sion's wedding, Salazar came to say goodbye.

"May I ask why my son has not come with you?" she asked.

"You may," he smiled. "He is busily sulking at one side of camp while Rowena is sulking on the other side. I am starting to see a pattern in their disagreeableness. Do you?"

"Certainly. I have seen it the moment they had stepped into Rhys' kitchen. But that is because I am a woman, so do not deem yourself foolish for not noticing it before."

He helped her up to her saddle.

"By the way, Salazar," she said as she started riding back to the Loch. "This is just a suggestion, and you are free to ignore it, but as I think you need to find a different name to the ruins than Cormag's Fort, how about Warthogs Fort? To commemorate the hunt for the Warthogs of the Fort?"

He thought that over. "I have a better name. How about the Castle of Hogwarts?"

And that's that for this week! Now, before the individual replies, I just want to let you know that if you reviewed a past chapter shortly after it was posted and did not get a reply, please don't take it as though I hadn't read and appreciated it, since a reply would appear in the next chapter. Sometimes the review simply appears after I already sent the next chapter to the Mods.

That said, any comments, questions and constructive criticism that you might want to add are welcome!

Doxycide: Sorry for that cliffie, but I terribly hope that you liked chapter 9 :) Luckily for you (and actually for me, too, because I would have felt awfully guilty otherwise), this story is complete, so unless something goes wrong, there will be a new chapter each and every week... Yes, Ambrosius is quite the slimeball, but he plays a major part in the story and he has to act like that. Glad you like my story that much so far, and... k-i-s-s-i-n-g :D

Yellowbag625: No such site? That's strange. I'm not sure if FictionAlley allows external links in the chapters, but here - I'll try all the same. Here's the link to my bio page in fanfiction.net: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/495453/ . I hope you will enjoy the stories, but eventually (once I have them beta-d) they would all appear here as well.

Naycit: Aww... but he's so cute and cuddly! Not. And yes, we are definitely getting close to the founding, though this story has a long way to go... I always imagined Helga as this bouncy, happy and, well, spontaneous lady. Glad you like her :)

Iris Potter: Thank you very much! And, as I told other readers, you have no reason to fear that I would stop updating this story. It is already complete! New chapter will be posted each and every week, so enjoy!

R&G: Thank you! :) Helga appreciates it and so do I.

Lindwen: Indeed we have! And what's more, in this chapter we actually have the name! I can promise you that the build of this story is more or less constant (barring one small mistake at the beginning, but it doesn't trouble me that much...) - every fifth chapter is from an external person (that is, not a Founder) PoV, just like this chapter was from Ceridwen's, and every four chapters between those external ones, are divided between the Four Founders. So there will be a lot of Helga as well as each and every one of the Founders. Just to let you know, these excerpts are one of the things that inspired me to write the story to begin with. I was toying with the idea for a long while some two - almost three - years ago, and then, one terribly boring lesson, I began scribbling one of the excerpts on a piece of paper, and that was it. So I'm very glad you like them! They were fun to write. Thank you so much for all you compliments!

And that is it for this time! Thank you all and stay tuned!