Hearts and Hourglasses

Reminder: Godric's alias is Godfrey Gloucester. Salazar's is Sextus Scaevola. Rowena's is Rachel Regius. Helga's is Hannah Hawthorn. Rowena cast a spell so that everyone who hears them will hear them referring to each other by their aliases, but to their own ears, they hear each other's real names. It's a complicated spell.

Hearts and Hourglasses
Chapter 33: Phoenix
Includes Interlude: Red & Gold

"... This is it?"

Godric glanced to Avery who had a very dubious expression on his face. He couldn't blame the other wizard for doubting. After a day and a night's journey, Salazar had led them to a dolmen.

The ground was brown, bare and cracked. Not a single blade of grass or clover could be seen around the bases of the two huge boulders supporting an even larger slab of stone. Godric examined the dolmen intently before looking around. They had landed in a secluded hollow bordered all around by the rain-weathered sides of a long extinct volcano. It was a familiar sight to Godric even though the scenery had changed a great deal since last he had been here.

The lush thick forest that had covered the sides of the volcano and down to the valleys below was gone as was the lake in the volcano cone. The dolmen, Godric remembered had before floated on the lake's surface, where they were now standing on solid ground.

The Thirteen had constructed Hierthent on a floating piece of rock, which hovered, revolved and rotated around the dead volcano. And as Salazar had said, nearly all magic was useless in this place. There was a constant dispelling charm at work, and it countered every other magic except its own. The Thirteen had meant it as a security measure. Without magic, it would be impossible to attack Hierthent. There were only three ways to get to the stronghold: Portkeys, riding winged animals and through the dolmen.

However, Hierthent was no longer where it should be. The floating rock with its castle load had disappeared. A thought occurred to Godric, and he took out the wand Albus had lent him. A small puff of smoke emerged from the tip of his wand when he tried a simple spell. He relaxed when he saw it. Spells could be cast in this place now. That means Hierthent must truly be gone.

There was movement on Godric's right, and he turned to see Salazar dismounting from his horse. When he tried to follow, the Dark wizard lifted his hand, gesturing for Godric to stay atop his horse. Godric deigned to disobey the silent order. As his feet landed on the ground with solid thump, Salazar's eyes flicked towards him.

Godric met those green eyes squarely. He watched Salazar's face carefully, on guard and alert for whatever emotion that would ran across it.

There was nothing. The other wizard's expression was perfectly blank, and it was Godric's face that was overrun by a myriad of emotions. Suspicion, anger, overwhelming curiosity and slow numbing despair.

Salazar had been avoiding them since that night when they had camped by a lake. That night, though Godric had wanted to go after and find the Dark wizard, Helga had persuaded him and Rowena to leave him alone. She berated them for worrying too much and reminded them that it was useless and impossible to try to control Salazar.

He's like a wild horse, that Salazar. It is best to let him have free rein when he wishes it. He will only come back when he wants to.

Helga's suspicion of the Dark wizard matched Godric's, but there were times when she seemed to understand Salazar even more than Rowena did.

However, Helga did think twice when Salazar returned to camp with Draco.

That boy... Godric looked towards the pale-haired youth riding beside his father. Draco's gray eyes were unreadable, and they were trained straight at Salazar, who was moving towards the dolmen.

I believe Draco cast a spell on Salazar.

There had been no anger in Rowena's eyes when she said that. Godric supposed that Rowena thought she shouldn't lay blame on Draco, since she, herself, had cast a spell on Salazar before.

... But surely, Godric thought if that was indeed the case, Salazar would never allow himself to be manipulated.

... Unless he doesn't know he is under a spell.

After a few moments, he turned his attention away from Draco. Salazar was walking underneath the dolmen, whose two standing rocks were as tall as full-grown oak trees and spaced so widely apart that their entire party of thirteen on horseback could ride through them side by side with room to spare.

Nothing happened when Salazar walked through it. Godric watched as he turned and headed back towards them, going the way he came. Salazar seemed contemplative, his eyes cast downwards. Dust was thrown up in minuscule clouds as his boots scuffed the parched ground. Something occurred to Godric as he watched the dirt settle in Salazar's wake, but the thought was left incomplete when the other wizard vanished.

"Salazar!" Godric sprang forward, dashing for the space Salazar had occupied just a moment before.

He heard Rowena and Helga shouting his name, telling him to stop. In the next instant, their voices were cut off in mid-cry. Godric turned back instinctively, and surprise made him stop abruptly.

The others behind him were gone, and so was the dry plain of the volcano's hollow. Godric's breath caught in alarm as his eyes showed him high walls of marble instead. The veined white material glinted in the sunlight, and Godric followed the walls upward until he saw the bright blue dome of the sky high above. He quickly lowered his head and discovered that he was in an open courtyard.

He was standing on a marble path with manicured lawns on both sides. Grass gleamed a healthy green as high above them so did the leaves of branches of tall slender trees lining either side of the way. Godric was facing a large archway, which appeared to lead outside of this enclosure. But before Godric could take a step towards it, he heard a noise behind him.

Whirling about, Godric reached for his wand. Barely had his hand entered his pocket when he froze. There was a ghost floating in front of him, the ghost of a voluptuous witch scantily clad in the sheerest robes Godric had ever seen (even for a ghost).

"Well..." A slender transparent finger reached up to tapped against a pointy translucent chin. "You look familiar," the ghost witch murmured in a husky voice intended to raise the hairs on the back of Godric's neck. He blushed red as she considered him intently, her eyes slowly moving down from his face. She didn't look up when he demanded to know who she was.

"That's suppose to be my question, stranger," she countered lightly as she lifted her eyes ever so slowly. Godric tensed, made more uncomfortable by the knowledgeable smile that curved her lips when their eyes met. She was regarding him in the manner that a predator considered its prey.

"... Where am I?" Godric decided to ask another question though he knew the answer to this one. Undoubtedly he was in Heirthent, but he wanted to distract the witch, who seemed to be too interested in him for his comfort.

He was puzzled when she didn't answer him, instead she held out her hand, with its little finger and thumb tucked against the palm. He frowned when the tip of her tongue protruded from between her lips impishly.

"Are you sure that's the question you should be asking?" she said in a lilting playful tone of voice. "I'll only answer three of your questions, Godric Gryffindor. After which, I will answer no more."

Automatically, he asked, "How do you know who I am?" He winced at his impulsive query as she tucked in her ring finger while tutting, "A silly question, but a question I shall answer nonetheless if only for the purpose for teaching you not to waste your chances."

"It's not as if you are granting me three wishes," Godric complained to which she wisely replied, "We exist for answers to our deepest questions. -" She shook her head. "- Though this one is certainly of the shallow kind."

"Never mind it then," said Godric impatiently, abruptly remembering that he was looking for Salazar. "Where's Salazar?" he demanded.

At this question, an emotion akin to relief seemed to flash in her eyes, though Godric had no time to ponder on it as she had turned, gestured for him to follow and floated towards another archway leading out of the courtyard. Godric hesitated for a moment before going after her.

* * * * *

"You actually had the gall to come back!" Each word was uttered scathingly. Blinded by bright light shining directly into his eyes, Salazar couldn't see who had captured him, but he recognized the voices, though they were distorted by hate and disgust.

"What are we waiting for?!" Yelled a high-pitched whiny voice. "Throw him into the pit immediately!"

"That would be too quick for him, Nerin."

"I agree with Bresnell. I suggest Crucio until he goes insane-"

"Then, into the pit," continued Nerinval in a gleeful tone.

"No," said someone else, and Salazar's stomach muscles spasmed when he heard that familiar deep voice. The others fell into silence as Lord Trenzel said, "He was one of us. His death should be quick and done in the same manner."

"You mean Avada Kedavra?" snorted another. "That is too merciful for the likes of him." Salazar turned his head towards the speaker. It was Jiswell he had heard. He tried to see the other wizard despite the glaring light, but it was useless. His eyes watered and stung still unable to see. Finally, he closed them and leaned back as best as he could for support against the wall to which he had been shackled to. He ignored the straining pain in his arms and legs, which were held apart. Salazar forced his mind to concentrate on his predicament while the ghosts of the Thirteen argued with each other on the manner on how they would dispose of him.

I should have expected this, Salazar thought ruefully, unafraid of the danger he was in. He had forgotten completely about ghosts, and thus, it had never occurred to him that the spirits of the wizards and witches he had worked with would be haunting Hierthent. It was an oversight he might very well pay for with his life.

Then, suddenly, a soft wavering voice whispered, "Where is Cassius, Salazar?"

He felt his chest tightening, his breath catching even as he inhaled sharply. Panic made him choke. "Lady Ilias?" ... He had killed her as well?

Salazar heard someone stumble and Lord Trenzel murmuring a reassurance, but she didn't sound comforted when she brokenly asked again where her grandson was. She sounded weak and frail, her voice was as Salazar remembered, and he opened his eyes. It was a vain attempt. He couldn't see anything except for a bright white light, shadowed at the edges of his vision.

... Perhaps a blinding spell had been cast on him... ... Was there something the Thirteen didn't wish him to see? All of a sudden, realization caused another coughing fit that made him breathless. He had heard someone stumble. That could only mean...

* * * * *

"You're alive!"

It was the first thing Godric heard when he entered the hall, and Salazar's cry quickened his pace so that he overtook the ghost witch floating ahead of him. The room she had led him to was vast, twice the width of the Great Hall in Hogwarts and having roughly the same length. The ceiling was as high though it didn't seem to stretch out into infinity as its plain ordinary arches were unenchanted. Its walls were broken into as many floor-to-ceiling windows as there were pilasters, each of both kinds having three-foot widths. The dimension was just enough to allow a couple to stand side by side while looking out a window together. Or enough bare wall space for a wizard to be hung eagle-spread upon it.

He saw Salazar hanging in such manner. There was a ghostly group in front of him with a very frail witch standing within their midst. They all turned towards him upon his entrance. Salazar had also turned his face towards him, but the other wizard's eyes showed no recognition as though he didn't see Godric.

"Salazar!" Godric called out, keeping his own eyes on the ghosts regarding him curiously. The only corporeal witch hadn't turned to look at Godric. She was staring at Salazar, whose face turned surprised when he heard his name uttered.

"... Godric?" Salazar never sounded as bewildered as he did now, but Godric didn't bother to try to understand why Salazar was confused by his presence. Rescuing the Dark wizard was his main concern, and he drew out his wand though he knew no spells, which could affect a spirit.

A tall spectre chuckled, attracting Godric's attention. He blinked when he recognized him.

"... Lord Rathal?" Godric asked tentatively, and the addressed ghost looked startled. However, he recovered quickly from his surprise and smiled wanly at Godric. "Gryffindor," he returned dryly, his translucent head tilting aside slightly in a mocking fashion, and Godric almost scowled at him.

Lord Jiswell Rathal, even when he was alive, never took Godric seriously.

Actually, none of the Thirteen ever did.

"Gryffindor?" Repeated a thin ghost, whom Godric now recognized as Lord Mistel Nerinval. Beside him, Lord Kardon Bresnell commented, "He's Ravenclaw's lackey."

"Ah. Now, I remember." said Nerinval. Godric fumed silently at this disrespect, and he glared at Salazar, who looked like he was fighting not to smile.

"You three, leave him alone," reproached the witch who had escorted Godric. When he glanced at her, he found her smiling seductively at him. Godric flushed red, finally realizing who she was. In his time, Lady Vivian Vorin was infamous for her conquests in the bedroom and for her insatiable appetite for physical pleasure.

"Vivian..." Sighed another witch. Godric was too busy moving away from Vorin to take note of who was speaking. Though what she said next made him jerk his eyes towards her. "You can't actually do it anymore, remember?" Lady Yves Treldon commented wryly.

Amusement broke out amongst the Thirteen, while Vorin pretended to be put off. Godric yelped when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"Just for that, Yves, I am not sharing him with you."

Lord Kilton choked back his laughter, while his twin brother innocently asked, "Yves, is this true?"

"Oh, Lyle," she replied with dramatic sigh, "you know very well I only share my bed with either you or Turin."

Turin burst out laughing while Lyle, not to be outdone, inquired with a growing smile whose turn it was tonight, his or Turin's.

Yves smiled prettily and queried how she would know the difference. At Lyle's speechlessness, his chortling older brother begged, "Enough already, Lyle. Give it up. You know you can't win against her."

Meanwhile, Godric was trying to get away from Vivian, who seemed intent on divesting him of his robes there and then. Fortunately, she was distracted by Turin's plea, and Godric managed to escape from her. He scrambled towards Salazar, whose head was tilted askance, listening intently to the conversation and noise around him. He jerked, startled when Godric reached him. His shackled feet were released first, then his hands.

Godric was very surprised when Salazar leaned heavily against him. The Dark wizard's hands helplessly clutched at his robes, and he swayed unsteadily on his feet, increasing Godric's alarm.

"Salazar," he whispered worriedly as he thrust his shoulder underneath the other wizard's. Unfocused green eyes stared at him as Salazar murmured, "They blinded me, Godric."

"I can't see anything."

Salazar could feel tension tightening Godric's muscles further. The shoulder underneath his arm felt as hard as rock, and not a panicked tremor betrayed its solidity. Even without sight, Salazar knew that Godric's face was set with determination, his brown eyes focused with concentration.

There was only a small jolt from Godric when Jiswell blithely asked just where they were going off to.

* * * * *

"Describe where we are, Godric," Salazar requested, though he had a good idea where they had been taken to.

There was sand underneath his feet, and he felt warm all over as though he was standing in sunshine.

"We are in the coliseum, Salazar," said Godric softly, and before he could say anything more, Salazar asked to borrow his wand. The Thirteen had taken his wand away.

After a moment's hesitation, Godric handed his wand to Salazar.

"Chevede!"

An ache suddenly throbbed somewhere behind Godric's eyes, and he closed them tightly. The bothersome heaviness didn't dissipated. After a few moments, he opened his eyes and turned to Salazar, who was regarding him with a very curious expression on his face.

Godric frowned at him questioningly, lifting his hand to massage his temple, which felt swollen. "What did you do, Salazar?" He asked, wincing in pain. It felt as though his eyeballs were being squeezed.

Suddenly, there was a loud rusty clanging sound behind him. Godric turned away from Salazar abruptly and saw that one of the massive gates was being raised.

"I'll explain later, Godric," said Salazar swiftly. "For now, keep your eyes open."

* * * * *

It was a Nundu. Ringed spots gleamed dully on its stretched lifeless skin as it considered the two wizards who had retreated to the opposite side of the enclosure. They seemed too small a morsel to satisfy its raging hunger, but a morsel was better than nothing to eat.

It set off immediately after them, but as it neared the center of the coliseum, a large shallow pit appeared as countless squawking chickens jumped out of it.

* * * * *

Godric breathed easier when the giant leopard decided to chase after the fluttering chickens instead of coming after them. He glanced to Salazar standing beside him, back pressed against the wall behind them. The Dark wizard looked shaky, his eyes were open and wide apart. Suddenly he testily said, "Godric, don't look at me. Keep your eyes on the Nundu."

He knew then what Salazar had done.

"You are seeing through my eyes?" he asked as he kept careful watch on the Nundu, which was devouring chickens by the score.

"Yes," answered Salazar quietly. "The spell works best on familiars, but you will do for now."

Godric rolled his eyes at the last remark and heard Salazar chuckle. But the Dark wizard quickly turned serious.

"It's just the beginning," he murmured as three of the Thirteen floated towards them.

* * * * *

"An interesting spell, Salazar. Turning grains of sand into poultry..." Jiswell's voice was silky, and Salazar, seeing the other wizard's ghostly profile through Godric's eyes, only nodded once as a reply.

On the far side of the arena from them, the Nundu had collapsed from the poison inside the chickens it had consumed. Salazar doubted it would die, thin and starved though it was. Nundus were a particularly hardy species, but at least for now, the Thirteen's Nundu was harmless.

But something about the creature was bothering Salazar though he let the matter go to a corner of his mind as he concentrated on the link between him and Godric.

It was difficult to see through another wizard's vision. Salazar fought down the impulse to grab Godric's wrist and pull him closer. He had used the vision link spell, which was intended to be used only on familiars, such as cats, owls, rats, toads and such. Through the spell, the animal's sight was in essence connected to the caster's, allowing the wizard or witch to see what their familiar perceived.

It was a trifle bit more complicated when used on humans.

"You've certainly have been busy these past forty days," Jiswell commented, and Salazar, struggling to acclimate himself to seeing through another's eyes, didn't immediately realized what the other wizard had said.

It was Godric who exclaimed, "What?!" His utter surprise overwhelmed the tenuous link between them, and glaring white light again was all Salazar could see. Instinctively, he reached out for Godric, grabbing the other's shoulder for support. Reassurance calmed his panic at his second sudden loss of sight when his fingers closed over firm muscle. A few moments later, Godric's hand settled over his and pulled it off.

Salazar automatically held on, but Godric was insistent. He pulled Salazar's hand off and over to rest on his other shoulder as he stepped in protectively between the Dark wizard and the ghostly trio, consisting of Jiswell Rathal and the Kilton Twins.

Rathal raised a dubious brow while Godric frowned at him.

"What do you mean forty days?" questioned Godric, repeating the measure of time Rathal had mentioned off-handedly.

It was Rathal's turn to frown, and Godric glared at him when he expressed sardonic amazement that Godric couldn't even keep track of time.

"Perhaps Ravenclaw keeps time for him," suggested Lyle Kilton with patronizing smile while his brother chortled at his younger sibling's wit.

Godric was about to scathingly inform them that a thousand years had passed when Salazar's hand on his shoulder tightened, warning him to remain silent. But what kept Godric quiet was the murmuring voice in his mind.

They won't believe if you tell them, Godric.

It was unmistakably Salazar's, and Godric was so startled to hear the Dark wizard speaking to him nonverbally that he almost missed what Rathal said next.

"Release the Chimaera."

* * * * *

Why can I hear you inside my head? Godric was further unnerved when he heard Salazar's unspoken reply.

We're linked, Godric, for now. It's a spell I've been working on with Rowena, but it dissipates very quickly. It hasn't been perfected yet.

... Why did you stop me from telling them it's been a thousand years, not forty days?

We must be in another dimension where time moves much slower.

... That would explain why that Nundu is still alive.

Indeed, it had also struck me as peculiar.

... Forty days. A thousand years for us, but for them only forty days.

We didn't live that thousand years, Godric. It was only an instant to us.

True... ... This must be why Lady Ilias is still aliv- Salazar!

What is it, Godric?

Forty days here equals a thousand years there... That means every hour we spent here means a year passes in the real world... We have to get out of here!

... The speed in which you can do complex mathematical calculations astounds me, Godric.

Salazar, finally you have something nice to say to me, but this is not the right time! We have no time!

Calm down, Godric. You are such a worrywart.

I am not!

Panicky as well.

SALAZAR!!!

No need to shout, Godric. Besides, if indeed a year has passed in the other world, than we would have disappeared by now. The Source in the Hat would have already expired, remember?

... This doesn't make any sense at all.

You would rather we had faded away?

No, course not. ... No, we are not going to extend the Source, Salazar.

But Godric didn't hear another thought from Salazar. The mind link had worn off, and Hierthent's Chimaera was entering the coliseum.

* * * * *

Salazar quickly recast the vision link spell and heard a soft grunt of pain from Godric as the white nothingness over his eyes disappeared. When he saw the Chimaera, Salazar instinctively stepped back.

It was a horrible-looking thing, with its lion's head, goat's body and dragon's tail. Creatures with mismatched animal and human parts had never appealed to Salazar. Though he shared a similar interest in fantastic beasts with Godric, he couldn't understand why the other wizard was just as fascinated with puzzle creatures such as griffins, spinxes, manticores, Hippogriffs (not to mention centaurs & merpeople) as he was with phoenixes, unicorns, dragons and Basilisks.

Salazar didn't see the small smile that crept unto Godric's face, but he heard the all too familiar obvious delight in his voice when he asked Salazar to conjure a flute and a bridle.

"... What?"

"You heard me, Salazar," said Godric with eager impatience, still keeping his eyes on the Chimaera. Salazar's hand tightened around Godric's wand as the monster turned towards them and eyed the two wizards intently. Fortunately, it was distracted by a chicken squawking nearby and went after the unfortunate hen instead. Like the Nundu, the Chimaera was in poor condition (making it even more ugly to Salazar). Its ribs were sticking out, and its hide was patched and frayed as it had lost most of its hair and scales to starvation.

Godric repeated, "Make a flute and a bridle."

"What for...?" Salazar, who had some idea of what Godric was planning, was annoyed. "Godric, you are not Bellerophon and that" - he pointed at the Chimaera - "is most certainly not Pegasus."

"Trust me, Salazar," said Godric reassuringly. "I know what I am doing." Salazar wasn't sanguine, and he was starting to understand what Helga must go through every time Godric went out determined to catch another (ugly) wild beast or two.

"Never mind about catching it," Salazar said peevishly. Already, the Chimarea was spitting out pieces of the chicken it had eaten when it realized the bird was poisoned. It was more intelligent that the Nundu.

He reached out a hand and found Godric's shoulder. Godric blinked, startled when Salazar pointed the wand at the Chimaera.

"Don't!" Godric shouted, grabbing for his arm.

"Pharos!" A bolt of lightning flashed from the tip of the wand and struck the Chimaera in mid-body. Its lion's head roared, turning towards them. It sounded more annoyed and angered than pained.

Godric took his wand back and quickly transfigured a flock of sheep from sand. Bleating, they scattered away from the two wizards, distracting the Chimaera's attention from them.

"Chimaeras are immune to magic, Salazar," Godric informed wisely as he watched the monster carefully. It was disemboweling the first sheep it caught. Blood and gore splattered against the ground, melting into it a short while later, having been absorbed and leaving the sands of the coliseum clean as though carnage had never taken place in it.

Wonderful... thought Salazar with a silent sigh, now understanding why Jiswell and the others had left them Godric's wand. It was almost useless against the Chimaera. As soon as it had its fill of food, the beast would be going after them, but not because of hunger. The frightful creatures were known for killing just for pleasure.

But they had taken away his wand... Salazar mused about that, wondering why as they waited for the Chimaera to finish eating. Surely, Chimaeras would be as immune to Petrificus as they were to lightning spells. The ability to petrify was the only difference and advantage a wand with a basilisk eyestalk core had when compared to wands with other cores.

His thought broke off when Godric conjured a golden flute and a bridle with a gold bit, again from mere sand. Salazar was surprised when he was handed the flute.

"Play something relaxing," Godric told him.

* * * * *

"What in the world..." Jiswell was shaking his head as a discordant tune emerged from the flute Salazar was playing. Below, on the arena sands, the Light wizard shook his head at his companion. Gryffindor said something to Salazar that Jiswell couldn't hear, and a moment after, the noise gentled turning into something that resembled music.

"Salazar is nervous." Jiswell glanced to Trenzel on the other side of the throne chair, where Lady Ilias was sitting on. It was the older wizard who had made the comment about their former associate.

"He should be," added Nerinval. "I would be, if I was in his place."

Bresnell snorted with amusement as he reminded Nerinval that he was a ghost.

Laughter filled the balcony from where the Thirteen were viewing the spectacle below as Nerinval made motions to choke Bresnell for the reminder. But silence soon deadened the amusement, as each of them was far from being comfortable with the idea that they were indeed dead.

Ten pairs of eyes stared with hatred at the silver-haired wizard who had murdered them. Only Lady Ilias and Trenzel didn't wish Salazar harm. The former was too close to death to care, far more concerned with wishing to see her grandson again. The hope that young Cassius Ilias was still alive was the only thing binding his grandmother to life. The latter, Trenzel, was Salazar's own mentor, and the teacher within desired more to save, if it were possible, the student who had betrayed him.

"Gryffindor interest me." All eyes, saved for Lady Ilias who was slumbering, glanced to Lyle Kilton, sitting on the balcony's marble balustrade. His head was bent down slightly, eyes trained straight at Gryffindor, who as they watched took a small vial from his pocket.

There was an agreeing sound from Turin Kilton as his younger brother shook his head with an expression of pleased surprise clear on his pale transparent visage.

"What is he doing?" asked Yves curiously. They couldn't see exactly what Gryffindor was doing as he had turned his back towards them. Salazar was still playing the flute, and he was improving as the minutes past though the tunes he was blowing were merely simple repeating melodies like the lullabies that children favored. The Chimaera meanwhile had killed its twelfth sheep, and its movements were slowing as though the plain music was lulling it.

Turin's answer was surprising. "He's going to try to tame the Chimaera."

"Can he do that?" Jiswell demanded. "Is that even possible?" asked Nerinval.

Lyle nodded. "It should be." There was reluctant respect in his voice. "I thought only Turin and I were the only ones who had ever thought to tame Chimaeras. It will be extremely difficult, but it should not be impossible. Not much is known about the creatures as they are usually avoided and left alone." He pointed at the beast. "When we captured and brought this one to Hierthent, we had considered the possibility of taming it."

"But we were murdered before we could try," continued his brother gruffly, and Lyle nodded somberly, lowering his hand.

"... But surely..." Bresnell trailed off for a moment before finishing his statement. "Gryffindor lacks the equipment to pull off such a feat."

"No." Surprisingly, it was Trenzel who answered. "Only music, a bit and a Subduing Potion or similar is needed."

The Kiltons agreed, and Lyle pointed out that Gryffindor might indeed have such a potion with him. Turin added that it is likely that the sheep Gryffindor had transfigured from sand might have herbs that would induced sleep in their stomachs just as poisonous plants must have been present in the chickens Salazar had similarly conjured from grains of sand.

"They both think quickly on their feet," observed Gilson. "I expected Salazar to give us an entertaining show before he dies, but I hadn't expect Gryffindor to prove quite so amusing."

"Speaking of amusement," Yves murmured, casting her eyes on Vivian, who had been silent since the Nundu was released into the coliseum. "Weren't you supposed to make sure he was unarmed except for his wand?"

Smiles formed as Vivian pretended innocence of the matter, explaining, "Anyone could have missed such a tiny bottle, Yves."

"And how was the rest of him?" queried Aliana with a smile.

"Impressive," Vivian immediately stated with a heartfelt sigh, and most of the wizards in the group shook their heads, amused and exasperated by this witches' talk.

"Forget it, ladies," Jiswell said.

"But it's such a waste if he dies in the arena," Vivian protested.

"In your bed is no different, Vivian."

"Now, I resent that, Jiswell. Men enjoy dying in my bed."

* * * * *

"What are you doing, Godric?"

"Don't stop playing, Salazar."

Salazar reluctantly continued playing, mechanically moving his fingers over the holes in the slender rod. He was growing very tired of playing the same melody again and again.

"Don't you know any other song, Salazar?"

"Godric, if you don't like my playing-"

"I know. Sorry."

Irritated, Salazar blew a little too hard into the flute, and the tune turned jerky. He had to shut his eyes for a while in order to concentrate properly in getting his rhythm back. When his eyes opened again, he saw Godric's fingers attaching the vial to the bit of the bridle with a sticking spell.

"What is inside it?"

"Severus calls it the Draught of Living Death, and don't stop playing, Salazar."

* * * * *

This should work, Godric thought to himself as he slowly, steadily and stealthily approached the Chimaera, which was half-heartedly chewing on a joint which it had ripped from a barely recognizable sheep carcass. The animals Godric had transfigured from sand had daffodils in their stomachs. The flowers were often used in sleeping potions and were also a main ingredient in the Draught of Living Death. It was also known as asphodel.

This should work, he thought again, repeating to bolster his confidence. This was the first time Godric had been this close to a Chimaera. Pity touched him as he saw the rashes and welts on the beast's bare skin. Its flesh was tightly strung, muscles thinned by hunger. There were open lesions across its back and flanks where flies and parasitic insects had gathered to feast. All in all, this poor creature invoked more sympathy from Godric than actual fear.

Guard lowered, Godric didn't notice a ram, dazed from the effects of the daffodils, stumbling towards him. Sheep were used to humans as their protectors, and this one was no exception. It bleated imploringly at Godric, who instinctively turned towards it. He only realized a second too late that the ram's mournful cry would also attract the Chimaera's attention.

* * * * *

The flute fell from listless fingers as Salazar stumbled forward blindly. "Godric!" He called out, desperate for any sound from the other wizard. The last thing he saw before the vision link between them broke was the Chimaera charging straight at him. The last sound he heard from Godric was a startled yell before the monster's angry snarls quickly followed by a sudden silence from both which left only the frightened bleating of sheep to echo plaintively in the coliseum.

"Godric!" Salazar shouted again as he moved in the direction, he had heard Godric last. Something warm bumped against his legs, and he reached down to feel trembling wool and the curved ridged horns of the ram that had distracted Godric. Sudden fury at the stupid animal swept through Salazar, and it cried out in pain when the wizard kicked it away. Salazar quickly regretted the angry action when he discovered he had lost his bearing on the other wizard.

Fear racked Salazar at the thought of Godric dying while he searched for him in the enormous area of the coliseum. Make a noise, Godric, please! He wished he had taken the wand when Godric had offered it, before the other wizard went to face the Chimarea. Salazar had refused, telling Godric he needed it more if he was truly proceeding with such a foolish plan. He had hoped his scathing words would be enough to deter Godric from going after the Chimaera.

He should have known it would have made the Light wizard even more determined than ever with the added goal of proving Salazar wrong.

Godric had gone off before he could stop him. His parting words to Salazar were jesting, reminding that he shouldn't stop playing the flute. Godric had chuckled as he left, and pain numbed Salazar; that might be the last time he'd hear Godric laugh.

"Godric!" For the third time, he called out the other wizard's name, screaming it this time. Throwing all to fate, Salazar started in the direction his instinct told him to follow. There was still a chance Godric was alive, despite his silence. He must have successfully dealt with the Chimaera, since the monster hadn't gone after Salazar, and it was being as quiet as Godric. The only thing Salazar could hear was his own harsh breathing, the hard pounding of his heart and the infernal bleating of sheep.

Suddenly, his foot struck something, and Salazar bent over to touch warm blood.

* * * * *

"IF HE DIES, ILIAS, I SWEAR YOU'LL NEVER SEE YOUR GRANDSON AGAIN!

"DO YOU HEAR ME, JULIA? YOU'LL NEVER SEE CASSIUS AGAIN IF GODRIC DIES!"

"He is just desperate." Jiswell said smoothly. Below, Salazar was on his knees, trying to stave the blood streaming from a long diagonal gash across Gryffindor's chest and stomach.

"Desperate to save his friend's life, Jiswell," said Trenzel softly. "I believe he is sincere."

"You would think that, Lord Trenzel." There was great scorn in Jiswell's voice and disrespect when he said the title. "After all, he is your student. You're a fool for thinking he would ever return to us. Because of your idiotic trust in your pupil, we are dead." Trenzel's dark eyes flashed dangerously at the accusation, but he said nothing to counter Jiswell, who looked triumphant by the other wizard's silence.

"But what if Cassius is alive..." Lady Ilias' soft feathery voice drew all attention to her, and they were all alarmed when she tried to stand up.

"Julia, don't!" It was Trenzel who reacted first, quickly holding the frail witch against him. Ghost though he was, he had enough control to make his spirit form solid enough to provide support. It wasn't too difficult a task since Lady Ilias weighed barely more than a child. She had been steadily losing weight for the past forty days ever since she had brought Hierthent to this place for safekeeping.

Though it was very unlikely that her grandson was still alive, Jiswell kept quiet, knowing that only her continued presence linked Hierthent to their world from this limbo it was currently in.

She is too weak, Jiswell thought. The despondency he felt was so familiar it no longer bothered him as it once had. He had all but given up hope that Hierthent would ever be returned to its proper position. Lady Ilias was too far gone in her delirium to think clearly enough to issue the strong command necessary to take the castle back to its rightful place.

If only Cassius were indeed still alive. Only the bloodline of the remaining living member of the Thirteen could command Hierthent now.

Unfortunately, Cassius was most certainly dead, and the Ilias line destroyed along with him. He had been their spy, their eyes and ears at Hogwarts. Salazar would surely had killed him first before he went after them.

* * * * *

He couldn't stop the bleeding. Salazar closed his useless eyes tightly, holding back the tears that threatened to spill from them. He started shaking, struggling with the overwhelming need to cry. His hands and fingers were sticky, covered in Godric's blood. With each passing moment, his friend's life was ebbing away as his heart beat weakly.

Salazar couldn't even find Godric's wand nor had he the strength to push the unconscious Chimaera off Godric's legs.

His bones must be crushed... This time, a tear escaped Salazar's tightly clenched eyes. Helpless. He was helpless to save Godric's life. Worthless. Helpless. There was nothing he could do. Just as he couldn't do anything to save his family when he was a child.

Not again... It was happening again. He was going to lose someone he cared for.

Just as he was about to lose control, Salazar heard a footfall behind him.

* * * * *

Godric felt numb. He opened his eyes slowly to see Salazar kneeling beside him, but the Dark wizard was not looking at him, and Godric frowned slightly when Salazar said, "Heal Godric, and I will bring Cassius here."

... Cassius? Godric thought with incredulity. Salazar, you are insane.

He heard someone else say, "We don't believe you, Salazar." And Godric couldn't blame the speaker. Cassius was long dead a thousand years ago.

He was even more startled by the ice in Salazar's voice when he bluntly stated he didn't care if they believed him or not.

Sudden pain caused Godric to unwillingly slipped into unconsciousness again, missing the rest of what was said between Salazar and the Thirteen. It was phoenix song, which roused him. Godric opened his eyes just in time to see a magnificent scarlet bird alight on his chest.

He winced when its golden claws treaded on his wound, but he smiled when the bird warbled apologetically at him as it repositioned itself on a less tender spot. Shiny black beady eyes considered him wisely, and Godric thought that it was Fawkes.

"Fawkes?" he whispered softly, and the firebird blinked at him and shook its head.

"His name is Celsus," Godric heard someone say. He was too weak to identify the speaker. He was about to faint again when the same person asked Celsus to heal him. In a pain-filled delirium, Godric heard Celsus warble reassuringly.

The powerful healing magic of phoenix tears soon closed all his wounds and knitted the bones broken and crushed when the Chimaera fell on him. By the time Celsus had finished treating him, Godric felt strong enough to sit up. As he did so, the phoenix landed gently on his shoulder. It sang again, its song warming Godric deep inside and out. He thanked Celsus, who nipped his ear affectionately before flying away to perch on the shoulder of Lady Ilias.

Only then did Godric realize he was surrounded by the Thirteen, and that Salazar was no where in sight. Alarmed, he stood up quickly, about to demand where his friend was when Jiswell Rathal bluntly told him to return with Cassius Ilias within one hour.

"If you don't return within in the allotted time, Salazar dies."

Before Godric could say anything, a pit suddenly appeared underneath him. It swallowed him whole as he fell into its dark depths.

* * * * *

A familiar yell alerted them. Rowena looked up and barely muffled a scream when she saw Godric, falling from the sky, plummeting towards the ground. Instinctively, she reached for the wand Albus Dumbledore had given her. Helga was quicker, casting a Slowing Spell on Godric and allowing him to land gently.

He was pale and shaking as he clambered up to his feet. Helga was the first to reach him, and he winced when she started scolding him for going after Salazar alone like that.

"YOU IDIOT!!! You should have waited for us! One of these days, your moronic impulsive stupid heroism is going to get you killed!"

But Godric didn't protest nor defended himself. Instead he asked how long he had been gone.

Rowena shushed Helga before she could continue yelling at Godric. She examined his sweating face, which was steadily regaining its color. Her eyes flicked downwards to the long tear in his robes and the dark stains around it. They were almost indiscernible against the scarlet silk, but Rowena knew it was dried blood. Helga realized it the same moment she did.

Godric yelped, alarmed when Helga tore open his robes, looking for the wounds that must have caused the stains.

"I'm all right, Helga!" Sheer embarrassment fully restored Godric's usual complexion and more, and Rowena couldn't help but smile when he backed away from Helga, wrapping his clothes tightly around and against him, rather primly.

Rowena blinked at the clear flustered thought that ran through his mind. That's twice in one day.

Helga asked, "What happened in Hierthent, Godric? And why isn't Salazar with you?"

Godric glanced at her, puzzled. "How did you know I was in Hierthent?"

Helga pointed over his shoulder, and he turned, becoming as still as a statue when he saw what they had been watching for the last hour and a half ever since he and Salazar disappeared into the dolmen.

Revolving and rotating around the volcano was a massive flickering ghostly outline of the floating fortress of the Thirteen. Though Rowena had never seen it before, it was unmistakably Hierthent.

* * * * *

"When did it appear?" Godric asked as they hurried to the dolmen where the others were waiting. He could see Draco running towards them.

"The moment you and Salazar disappeared," Rowena answered. Then she paused and asked softly if Salazar was all right. Godric looked away, remaining quiet for a few moments before murmuring in a steady tone that he was. He didn't dare to look at Rowena right now as he struggled to keep his mind blank. He was glad for the distraction Draco provided when they met him.

"Where is he?!" The boy immediately demanded, his face blazing with accusation at Godric as though he blamed him for Salazar's absence. Godric froze when he saw the contempt in Draco's pale gray eyes.

* * * * *

Why did you follow me?

Godric held the boy's dead body, head bowed over the still ivory face. Tears ran down silently, and Godric shook as his heart racked with sorrow.

I want to come with you, Lord Gryffindor! I want to fight against the Dark wizards as well!

The youth's bravery had made him smile despite the serious situation they were in. One again, the Thirteen had sent of squad of Dark wizards to destroy the school at Ravenclaw manor. Godric hadn't been so worried then. It was more meddlesome than dangerous. After the first squad led by Salazar Slytherin, the other Dark wizarding squads were pathetic in comparison.

Let me come along, please! I know I can help you!

I don't even know your name, boy... Godric's eyes were dry by the time he lowered the small body to on the ground. You shouldn't have followed me. Why didn't you listen to me?

"Are you done weeping now, Gryffindor?" said an uninterested voice behind him. Godric stood up slowly before turning to face the boy's murderer.

Cassius Ilias smiled slightly at him. His cool gray eyes tracked the tear lines on Godric's face. When they returned to Godric's eyes, disgust shone in them.

* * * * *

Draco was shocked when Gryffindor suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders. He was about to shout and push the other wizard away when Gryffindor demanded, "Are you related to Cassius Ilias?"

Before Draco could answer, his father reached them and tore Gryffindor's hands away. "Don't you ever touch my son again!" Lucius snarled, shoving Gryffindor back.

Draco's father was utterly surprised when Gryffindor grabbed his wrist and started marching towards the dolmen, dragging the other wizard along.

"Godfrey!" Ravenclaw went after them while Hufflepuff just stood where she was, staring at them in amazement. Draco was in a similar state, and both recovered at the same time Lucius regained his wits.

"Unhand me!" Commanded Lucius with as much dignity as he could inject into his tone while stumbling behind Gryffindor. They reached the dolmen where the others waited with very curious expressions and clear bemusement on their faces at the sight of Lucius Malfoy being pulled around like a small naughty boy.

They halted just before the dolmen. Gryffindor stared at the path through it thoughtfully while Lucius tried unsuccessfully to pull his hand free from the other wizard's grip.

Avery, Nott and Macnair grinned widely when Lucius glared at them. Peter smirked openly while Crabbe and Goyle looked jolly with the broad smiles on their massive faces. Draco's mother coughed delicately and asked Gryffindor why he was taking her husband.

Gryffindor blinked when Narcissa spoke to him, glancing towards her with a surprised look on his face as if he hadn't noticed she and the others were there. Then, he turned his eyes to Lucius who was staring down furiously at the hand holding his wrist prisoner.

"You have to pretend you are Cassius Ilias," Gryffindor told his father, whose face turned blank at this. His gray eyes lifted to give Gryffindor an "Are you insane?" look.

Narcissa interpreted this as confusion. "Cassius Ilias, Lucius," she repeated the name. "Remember? He's your great great great-"

"I know, Naris," Lucius said peevishly as he tried to pull his hand free again. Discomfort had caused him to call his wife by his pet name for her, something he usually did in private. "Do you mind?" He said sarcastically at Gryffindor, lifting and indicating his trapped wrist when the other wizard gave him a questioning look. After a few moments, Gryffindor released him.

"Why does he have to pretend to be another person?" Avery asked curiously as Lucius eyed Gryffindor warily while rubbing his wrist.

Gryffindor was slow in replying to that question, and Draco could see he was worried. "They will kill Sextus if I do not bring Cassius Ilias to them."

"... They?" queried Nott.

* * * * *

"This will not work!" Draco glanced over his shoulder at his father who was still protesting about the pretense he had to play in order to rescue Lord Slytherin. He couldn't help but feel irked and more than a bit disappointed in his father for being such a coward.

"Sextus will die if you do not agree to this," Hufflepuff told Lucius sharply. The others were all gathered in a group a few paces away from the dolmen in front of which Draco was standing. None of them noticed when the boy stepped in between the stone pillars and disappeared.

* * * * *

Draco found himself standing in a garden the moment he went through the dolmen. He blinked and glanced down to discover that he was knee-deep in flowers. They were daffodils.

There were flowers everywhere, different kinds arranged in neat squares. Some of the species Draco could identify included petunias and snapdragons. There were lilies, violets, poppies and so many more that he felt dazed by the sheer abundance of colors and the overwhelming mixture of fragrances. What impressed Draco the most were the rose bushes that were planted in every flower patch. They were taller than Draco, towering over his head by at least a foot. There were large buds of roses of every color. Depending on which flower patch the rose bush was growing in, the color of its buds matched the hue of the flowers below. Draco was tempted to pick a beautiful yellow rose in full bloom that had caught his eye. He had just broken its stem when he heard people approaching.

Immediately he ducked behind the oak tree in the very center of the garden as three ghosts floated into view from one of the four archways opening pathways through the four walls enclosing the area.

The ghost in the lead was that of a tall distinguished-looking wizard who looked quite bored by the conversation of the two identical spirits following him.

"Draught of Living Death is an apt name for it. I didn't know there was a sleeping potion powerful enough to take down a Chimaera." said one of the twins.

"Neither did I, Lyle," replied the other. "It's a shame Salazar only knows its name and none of its ingredients."

"Will you two stop blathering about that potion?" complained the lead spirit. "I still can't believe you asked Salazar about it."

"Well... at least we had something to ask him," said Lyle slowly. What he said next horrified Draco. "You just tortured him, Jiswell."

Jiswell calmly stated, "The only thing I want to hear from him are screams of pain."

Draco forced himself not to rush out and demand where Lord Slytherin was. He kept himself still as he watched Jiswell begin picking flowers from the same bush Draco had taken his yellow rose. After the ghost had picked about a dozen long-stemmed roses, he and his companions left the garden.

A few moments later, Draco followed them, not realizing he was still clutching the yellow rose in his hand.

* * * * *

He lost sight of the trio quickly, and Draco was left lost and bewildered in Hierthent's maze of wide marble paved hallways. He couldn't even find his way back to the garden. Worried that he might be discovered by the denizens of the castle, he opened the next door he found. It lead into a small study with bookshelves, a desk and chair and a comfortable-looking armchair beside the only window in the room.

Draco entered it immediately, closed and locked the door behind him and unshouldered the backpack he had taken along with him. He paid little notice to the rose in his hand as he placed it and his bag on the table.

It's a good thing I brought it, thought Draco, feeling pleased with himself when he removed his father's Invisibility Cloak from his bag. His parents hadn't noticed when he transferred the cloak from his father's bag to his own at the manor. As he unfurled the silky material, a small silver pouch flew out from its folds and fell with a tiny muffled clink on the marble floor.

Draco swallowed hard as he picked it up. After a several seconds of indecision, he untied the knot holding it close and carefully shook its contents into his hand. They were the broken pieces of the serpent pin Lord Slytherin had given to him.

Anger and remorse filled him as he stared at the ruined pin. The tiny serpent had still been in its ring shape around Wormtail's neck when he transformed from his Animagus form after returning with Lord Slytherin from Azkaban. Draco, looking over the unconscious wizard, hadn't even noticed the sound of the serpent circle snapping into two separate halves.

How he had wanted to attack Wormtail when the rat returned his pin with an all-too-clearly fake apologetic look on his small ugly face.

I'm sorry... Draco's throat was too tight to allow him to speak the words out loud. He gently rubbed the head of tiny snake with tip of his forefinger. Draco's eyes misted when there was no movement, no reaction to his touch. The once shiny silver was dull. Its bright emerald eyes were now lifeless. Its magic had disappeared.

I shouldn't have lost you, thought Draco as he returned the pin into the pouch. Greater regret almost made him choke. He hadn't told Lord Slytherin what had happened to the pin he had given him. He hadn't wanted the wizard to find out he had been irresponsible with his gift. What if he could have repaired it? Draco could have used it to help him find Lord Slytherin now.

Suddenly, somebody behind him said, "What are you doing here, boy?"

* * * * *

When he had entered the room, Trenzel had thought he was dreaming. When he saw the silver-haired youth standing by the table with his back towards him, he had thought it was Salazar. This study had been Salazar's when he was studying under Trenzel as an apprentice.

But the moment he saw that the lad had gray eyes instead of green, he knew at once it was not a dream.

The strange youth was clearly alarmed when he saw Trenzel. His eyes darted all around the room, seeking for a way out. Panic filled them when he realized he would have to go through Trenzel in order to escape.

Trenzel was pleased when stubborn determination quickly hardened the boy's sharp features.

* * * * *

"Draco!" Godric had to trot in order to keep up with Lucius who was flinging open every door in the hallway they were in. The other wizard was getting more and more upset with each passing moment.

Godric suddenly found himself against the wall with Lucius threatening to kill him if anything happened to his son. Godric remained quiet, and after a few increasingly tense moments Lucius released him on his own accord before stalking off to slam open another door. "Draco!"

* * * * *

"You two do know Godric has returned?"

Mistel lifted a questioning eyebrow at Vivian. "Godric, you say... since when did Gryffindor became Godric to you."

Kardon chuckled as Vivian glared at them disapprovingly. "I think the two of you have tortured Salazar enough.

"There is still that Eastern water torture," Mistel pointed out.

"You two are disgusting," Vivian declared.

Kardon protested, "Now, Vivian. At least we like to try new things." Mistel agreed and pointed out that at they couldn't very well use the whip on Salazar since Jiswell had done that already and that the twins had made use of the rack after him.

"Besides," added Kardon, "none of you witches have done your shares yet."

"That's because we aren't simpletons!" Vivian turned and exited the dungeons huffily, leaving two amused wizards to puzzle over her parting statement.

"I wonder what they're planning," mused Mistel.

"Whatever it is," said Kardon, "I pity Salazar."

Both of them looked down into the pit where they had dropped the other wizard into.

* * * * *

There was something crawling over his hand. Salazar quelled the impulse to shake it away, forcing himself to remain still. The ground he was lying on seemed to be moving. The air was dank and cold, and though all he could see was bright whiteness, he knew wherever he was was as dark as a moonless starless night.

They had dumped him into the spider pit.

* * * * *

"But I don't like spiders, Sir!"

Suspended over the spider pit, the boy writhed in mid-air, winding up upside-down and staring with distraught eyes at his teacher who was standing on the edge of the spider pit. Lord Trenzel lowered his wand slightly, and Salazar cried out in alarm when he dropped down proportionally.

"Don't, Sir, please!"

"You have to do away with this fear of yours, Salazar."

"I'm not afraid of them, I just don't like them! They're ugly-looking things."

"There is little difference between being afraid of something and finding the same thing repulsive," Lord Trenzel said wisely before releasing his apprentice.

* * * * *

Lord Trenzel had always been a hard master. Salazar sighed softly as he slowly and carefully positioned himself in a more comfortable position against the curved wall of the pit. Calmly, he ignored the tentative curious poking of numerous spider legs. He knew the arachnids would rather eat their fellow kind than him.

As long as he didn't struggle, didn't disturb them, didn't give any sign he was afraid of them, they wouldn't harm him. The first time he had been dropped into the spider pit, Lord Trenzel had to levitate him out within a minute. Salazar had received so many bites, he was bedridden for weeks before he recovered from the poison injected into his system.

But as soon as he had recuperated enough, Lord Trenzel had once again dragged his screaming pupil down to the dungeons. Salazar had managed to last much longer the second time he was dropped into the pit. Once he realized his teacher was never going to end this tormenting lesson until he learned it, Salazar reluctantly accepted this task. It wasn't long before he could actually take a nap while inside the spider pit.

I will teach you to appreciate not only pleasure, but also pain, Lord Trenzel had oftentimes told him while remarking that Salazar had too soft an upbringing. He even berated the memory of Salazar's grandfather, whom he knew personally, saying that Salwell Slytherin had spoiled his children.

Love is all well and good, but it doesn't prepare you for harsh reality. Trust me, boy, you have much to learn, and though you will not believe what I will tell you next. Losing your family does give you an advantage.

... What do you mean by that, Sir?

Nothing will ever hurt you as much as when you lost them.

But he is wrong. Salazar chuckled weakly, and quickly stifled his amusement when his laughter-induced shaking attracted the spiders' attention.

He is wrong. I have as much to lose now as I did when I was a boy. ... Perhaps even more.

Though I knew it would hurt me if I cared for others again... I couldn't help it.

I needed to love, even though I didn't want to.

* * * * *

The Kilton twins were waiting at the entrance of the Hierthent's Great Hall when Lucius and Gryffindor finally found their way there.

Lucius froze when the identical spirits approached and regarded him intently.

"... Cassius-"

"-is that really you?"

"Jiswell isn't going to like this, Turin."

"I know, Lyle. He hates traitors."

"Don't we all," Lyle agreed and told Lucius, "We wouldn't want to be you when he finds out you betrayed us."

"Actually," added Turin, "we don't even want to be you or to be with you right now."

"Cassius, you are in so much trouble," they chorused in sympathetic singsong voices, making Lucius feel quite addled.

Before he could say anything, Lyle moved aside and gestured at Lucius to continue on into the hall ahead. But he blocked Gryffindor when the latter tried to follow Lucius.

"Trust me," Lyle said in a conspiring manner. "You don't want to be with him when Jiswell's upset."

"But-" Gryffindor was cut off by Turin who said, "Now about that potion you used on our Chimaera..."

Lucius was very amused by the baffled expression on Gryffindor's face. He frowned though when Lyle made shooing gestures at him to go away.

Who do they think they are?! An irritated Lucius thought to himself as he entered the hall. He disliked being treated with such disrespect. His anger faded slightly as he looked around curiously at the enormous room he was in. Tall narrow windows lined the long walls which vaulted high upwards into tapering arches. There was large round table in the very center of the hall, where another ghost appeared to be arranging flowers in a vase.

As Lucius drew nearer, the specter turned towards him. Anger suddenly twisted his transparent features. There was such hatred in the dead wizard's eyes that Lucius almost stumbled backwards as all his instincts commanded him to stay away. This must be the Jiswell of whom Lyle and Turin had spoken

"You." A disgusted sneer contorted Jiswell's face. "So, you are alive, Cassius. I should have known you had betrayed us. Otherwise how would Salazar had found out about our plot to destroy him and his precious school and come after us instead." There was utter contempt in his tone.

Startled, Lucius almost revealed his ignorance when he heard this. Instead, he quietly filed away in his mind what Jiswell had said and waited to hear more. Clearly, the stories that had been told for generations about Lord Slytherin and the Thirteen lacked quite a few details.

"What made you decide to ally yourself with him? Did you suddenly realize this was the perfect opportunity to rid yourself of the rest of us? Let Salazar Slytherin do away the twelve of us for you. Such ambition, Cassius, I commend you. Instead of thirteen, you alone would rule Hierthent. We trusted you!"

Lucius flinched inwardly when the ghost furiously knocked the crystal flower vase off the table. Long stemmed yellow roses flew out as its container broke into glistening pieces while the water inside it spilled unto the marble floor. Lucius reached for his wand instinctively when Jiswell picked up a large shard of crystal.

As he straightened, he fingered its sharp edges lovingly while eyeing the dangerous tip with a bloodthirsty regard. Lucius' own fingers tightened around the wand in his pocket as Jiswell continued, "But something must had gone wrong with your plan, didn't it, Cassius?" Maddened eyes gleamed dangerously at Lucius over the improvised weapon.

"Somehow, you couldn't be here when he came back and started slaughtering us. You must had lost control... " Jiswell trailed off to be silent for a few thoughtful moments. Then he asked rather curiously, "What happened, Cassius? You know one of us has to be alive and present in Hierthent at all times."

"Otherwise it would fall." Lucius jumped at this statement, but Jiswell didn't notice his obvious surprise as he continued musing. "What happened, Cassius?" he repeated again while twirling the improvised dagger in his hand. "Did Salazar perhaps overpowered you and kept you from coming back to Hierthent? Surely you didn't intend for it to be destroyed. On the other hand, Salazar prefers to annihilate everything and anything not to his liking. He gave up his place amongst us to start all over again with that Hogwarts school business with Ravenclaw and the others."

Lucius was becoming more and more confused as Jiswell rambled on, paying no attention to his tacit listener. "You've always had this idiotic impression you were stronger than the rest of us, Cassius. A foolish notion. Salazar will always be more powerful than you will ever be. Even I must admit that though it galls me to do so. How did you ever think you could control him on your own?"

Lucius couldn't dare to ask despite his increasing bewilderment. The moment he started asking questions, Jiswell would know he wasn't the real Cassius Ilias.

"Your grandmother became hysterical when she discovered the twelve of us dead." Jiswell's voice turned soft so suddenly Lucius almost missed what he had said. He lowered the crystal shard and gestured at the table with his other hand. "She found us here, some of us still seated in our chairs, the rest lying on the floor." A small humorless smile curved pale translucent lips. "At first, she thought we were just sleeping."

Then the smile disappeared completely leaving an ugly hateful expression in its place. Lucius drew out his wand as Jiswell approached him.

"I will never let you have Hierthent, Cassius!"

* * * * *

"Petrificus!"

Draco dashed forward as soon as he heard his father's shout. He entered into an enormous hall just in time to see his father petrify the ghost called Jiswell.

"Father!" Lucius whirled towards him. "Draco!" The boy quickly found himself being hugged first then scolded by his father. "Don't you ever go off like that again!" Draco winced when Lucius fingers dug into his arms and shoulders. He nodded, promising he wouldn't so that his father would stop shaking him. He turned flustered when he was embraced tightly. Lucius' hand ran through and ruffled his hair as though to reassure himself that his son was really there and safe with him.

"I'm all right," An embarrassed Draco muttered. He didn't know how to deal with his father behaving this way. He was used to Lucius being strict and cold. Draco expected his mother to react this way, but not his father.

* * * * *

"You petrified Jiswell..." Turin said blankly while his brother knocked a fist on Jiswell's solid head. The twins glanced at each other and sighed in unison, "Poor Jiswell."

Lucius frowned at them over Draco's head. He was standing a good distance from the floating petrified ghost with his son in front of him. His hands were locked on Draco's upper arms. It would be a while before he would let go of him.

Meanwhile, Gryffindor was looking over Slytherin who was seated in one of the chairs at the table. ("It's Jiswell's chair," Lyle had informed them with a mischievous smile.)

Lucius ignored Draco's attempts to go to Slytherin and paid no attention to his son who had tilted his head back to glare reproachfully at his father. He did start when Draco sneezed. The air was heavy with the thick fragrance of the yellow roses that had fallen to the floor. The broken pieces of crystal and spilled water had magically vanished, but the flowers remained.

"He'll be fine," Gryffindor murmured, referring to Jiswell. He was carefully examining Slytherin, who turned his head slightly towards Gryffindor when he spoke. Slytherin's eyes were closed, Lucius noticed. He felt Draco shift impatiently.

"What do you mean by that?" Slytherin asked Gryffindor who answered that there was a cure for Petrify in this time. Slytherin's head tilted at that bit of information as another ghost wizard who Lucius didn't recognize declared, "I still can't believe a thousand years has passed."

"Neither do I," said another, and suddenly, the hall was noisy with arguments amongst the Thirteen.

"Quiet," commanded the wizard who had came into the hall with Draco. "The proof lies in the fact that Jiswell was petrified with a wand that has a dragon heartstring core, not one which has a basilisk eyestalk core."

Lucius watched curiously as his ruined wand was passed to and fro amongst the ghost. Once he had performed Petrificus with his wand, its wood had begun turning into stone from its tip first then down to its base. It had shattered when he dropped it before the petrifying magic could touch his hand. This was the dangerous side effect of the stoning spell. The wood of the wand was sacrificed to cast Petrificus, but the wand's core was reusable.

Petrificus was not a favored spell amongst wizards and witches. There were other spells such as the full Body-Bind, which produced similar results, which are far easier to cast, and which did not waste good wood. Plus, Petrificus had not been particularly effective as a fatal curse ever since a cure was discovered for it several centuries ago. Finally, though it was considered as one of the most advanced Dark Magic spells, it had never been declared as an illegal spell by the Ministry of Magic or by any other government. It was far too cumbersome and costly as well since the caster would have to carry spare wands.

Its only actual useful aspect was that it was the only spell, which could render spirits immobile. Other than that, nothing else significant and worthwhile could be said about the spell.

In fact, because it is such a stupid spell to use, it is insulting to be petrified.

Lyle tapped Jiswell's smoky black face, and one of the ghost witches reprimanded him, ordering him to leave Jiswell alone.

"It's an Ollivander wand," one of the older wizards suddenly said. All eyes turned to the old ghost who was peering at the wand and examining it minutely. "I would know an Ollivanders anywhere," he mumbled at he presented the pieces of the wand to them. "See this?" He indicated at the butt of the wand where an intricate O had been finely carved into the wood. "And look at the direction of the wood grain." He held up one of the petrified pieces that had split neatly down the middle, revealing the lighter interior.

"They all point towards the tip of the wand," he said wisely. "This is the reason why he-" He jerked his head towards Lucius. "-was able to cast Petrificus without turning himself into stone first. Of course, it's still not even a sixth as effective as a basilisk eyestalk wand." As the ancient ghost continued his explanation, Lucius shook his head slightly to keep himself alert. Suddenly, it seemed like he was back in Hogwarts, listening to dull and boring Binns drone about the History of Magic.

He wasn't the only one drowsy. Draco's head was drooping. Suddenly, Lucius lost all feeling in his legs. He collapsed, still holding his son protectively against him. In his chair, Salazar had fallen asleep as well. Godric was the last to lose consciousness. He noticed his companions' state too late to keep the somnolent need from overcoming him as well.

The ghosts fell silent as Godric struggled to keep himself awake. It was a useless endeavor though none of them fault him for fighting.

"Finally," murmured Trenzel when Godric lay listless on the floor. The roses had done their work.

To be continued.

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