The Amulet
Harry was stunned. Standing before him were four of the greatest witches and wizards since Merlin, the Founders of Hogwarts itself. He knew only a little of them, courtesy of Hermione being a bookworm, and fascinated with the magical world.
Even more stunning than the fact that he stood before them, was they were somehow waiting... for him?
Helga spoke up, looking at him with concern "Poor dear, he looks ready to pass out."
"It-it's just, how? How are you here? How do you know my name? And where exactly are we?" Harry found his voice, and the questions just came tumbling out. "The last thing I remember is going to sleep in my dorm room. I was so tired I didn't even think to take off..."
"The amulet, Harry. That is how we are here, and is part of how we know you."
"Perhaps, my dear Helga, we should allow Rowena to tell the story. It is one, I'm certain, she has been eager to tell."
Helga shot Godric a disapproving scowl, though Harry noticed a look of... gratitude?
"Thank you, Godric. Harry, first I must ask, how much do you know of us? Of who we were beyond the founders of Hogwarts?"
"Very little. You were students of Merlin, and later founded the school."
"That is correct. We four were students and later teachers in our own school. What you don't know is that before we founded Hogwarts, were served in the court of King Arthur."
Harry's eyes went wide. "YOU knew King Arthur???"
"Indeed. We four came of age during his reign and were instructed by Merlin, the Kings closest advisor, and greatest wizard yet. But he was hardly the only wizard in the King's court. Only one man in those times was ever considered to be Merlin's peer: Octavian Potter."
"He... he was my ancestor?"
"Correct. And it must be said, there have been few wizards quite like Octavian. Remarkably powerful, and intelligent enough to write tomes for every form of Magic, yet a highly trained and capable general and knight, though above all else, loyal beyond reproach. The only wizard to join the Round Table, he would be at the forefront of Arthur's conquests. Had he been present for the Battle of Camlann, Arthur would have gone on to seize the mantle of the Roman Empire."
"Why wasn't he?"
"Rebellion in Gaul forced him to remain on the continent, while the king dealt with Mordred. In the months following the battle, Octavian managed to quell the rebellion, only to find the empire his king had built was falling apart. Instability reigned in the Isles as though Constantine had been named Arthurs heir, dukes and lesser kings sought to claim the throne of Britain for themselves. Norway would soon break away, while Gaul would be invaded and conquered, until finally the Saxons began their next invasion, and Arthur's kingdom fell for good.
"Octavian, however, was unwilling to give up. He refused to admit defeat and spent years of his life fighting to save the kingdom and the empire. Over a dozen would-be usurpers fell before him, and the snow of Norway turned crimson as rebels were hunted down. But then, in the last few years of his life, he received a powerful vision of the future. A future in which his last descendant would face a great darkness, one that had already tried to consume his life, and failed. This descendant would need protection, and above all else, guidance, to prepare him for that final battle.
"That is where we come in. As part of his preparations, he forged an amulet carrying powerful enchantments that would allow the wearer to receive guidance from those he wished. And his wish was that we would guide you once you become a student of Hogwarts."
Harry had stood gobsmacked at the story he was being told, of a mighty ancestor in service to a legendary king. This same ancestor had prepared the amulet he now wore so that he might be given guidance going forward into a world he knew nothing about. Of course, that left him with a question of his own:
"Why you and not him? If he's my ancestor, wouldn't he want to see this through to the end himself?"
Godric simply smiled. "I asked him the same question young Lion. He told us that he will speak to you one day, but he wanted us to teach you while at Hogwarts."
At that Salazar perked up. "Speaking of teaching, I believe we've put that off long enough."
"Agreed. Harry, a great darkness is coming, one that threatens to overtake Britain and the world. It will fall to you to defeat this darkness and prevent the catastrophe it threatens to unleash. To do that, you will need to be trained to the highest possible standard for wizardkind. However, it's apparent that you don't have any formal training yet, correct?"
Harry could only look down, ashamed that he had already disappointed his teachers.
"Oh Harry, don't be upset." Helga smiled at him, showing him warmth and affection that had been denied to him all his life. "We know it isn't your fault."
"You... you do?"
"Yes. Ever since you put on the amulet, we've gained access to your memories. We know the life you've been forced to live, and we will do all we can to help you going forward."
"Quite right my dear." Godric stepped forward. "But now, your training begins."
When Harry woke up, his body felt refreshed from a good night's sleep, but his mind was racing. All through the night, he'd been tutored by the Founders themselves. Lessons on Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, even Dueling, though nowadays it'd be called Defence. Godric had frowned at the realization his favourite subject had been renamed to sound 'less threatening'. Apparently whether magical or not, parents tend to get squeamish regarding the naming of lessons.
Waking up before everyone else gave him time to himself as he washed and dressed for the day. Yesterday, he'd been excited and nervous about starting his magical education. Now, thanks to the Founders he couldn't wait to get started.
Eventually, the day, and the school year, began properly, receiving their timetables from Professor McGonagall, promising an interesting first week.
Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, was a stern and serious woman, as was made clear during their first lessons. Turning matchsticks into needles definitely seemed daunting to Harry, but by focusing on his lessons with the Founders, with a clear mind he was the first to achieve success.
"Impressive work Mr. Potter, and done first. 15 points to Gryffindor. Another 15 for you Miss Granger." Not to be outdone, Hermione had achieved success as Professor McGonagall awarded the first set of points.
Professor Filius Flitwick was a marvellous teacher. What he lacked in height, he more than made up for with energy and enthusiasm. The first class managed to learn the Lumos Charm, and those who got it first then learned the Color-Changing Charm. Flitwick was beside himself with joy when both times Harry completed the spell first. By the end of class, he and Hermione had won Gryffindor an extra 60 points for their success. Flitwick was a delight to learn from.
The same could not be said of their Defence teacher. Professor Quirinus Quirrell seemed a nice enough man, but his stuttering left him barely coherent enough to teach the class the Knockback Jinx. Even that was done near the end of class, as the majority of the beginning was Quirrell attempting to describe the Course Goals. Still, it was another opportunity to put his tutoring to work, and he performed the jinx flawlessly.
"M-Most im-impressive Mr. P-Potter. Twen-twenty points to Gr-Gryffindor."
History had to be the most boring class he'd ever taken. The teacher being a ghost was cool, at first. But that quickly lost its charm as he not only got the students' names wrong but gave a lecture that left him nodding off.
Potions class, on the other hand, was far from boring. In fact, it was downright tense the first few minutes.
In strode Severus Snape, or the greasy dungeon bat, as he'd heard the older students call him. He’d given a, relatively, flowery speech about brewing Fame, bottling Glory, and stoppering Death... and called the class dunderheads. Then his eyes fell upon Harry, and the class held its breath.
“Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” Snape barked.
"The Draught of Living Death. Sir."
"Indeed. And where would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?"
"The stomach of a goat sir."
"And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"None, they're the same plant, also known as... aconite."
Privately Harry thanked Salazar for his near single-minded focus on potions. 'I am a renowned Master of Potions. I won't let any student of mine be anything less than excellent.'
Snape, for his part, seemed surprised at Harry's knowledge. Then again, he thought to himself, Lily did pursue a Potions Mastery. Evidently, some of that was passed on.
"Correct on all counts, Mr. Potter. 5 points for Gryffindor." Rounding on the rest of the class, his bark returned. "And why haven't the rest of you dunderheads made any notes?! Everything you just heard will be a focus of this class."
From there the class proceeded, relatively peacefully. Snape never seemed to take his eyes off Harry, either expecting him to screw up or waiting for him to show more talent.
'Well, if you expect me to fail, I intend to prove you wrong.'
After a week of classes, Professor Dumbledore found himself discussing Harry's progress with the rest of the staff at lunch one day.
Flitwick had nothing but glowing praise for the boy, describing him as a curious and eager student. The fact he always completed the Charms first was just a bonus in his eyes. McGonagall likewise praised him for his skill, noting that he was just as talented, and far less troublesome than another student she remembered. The rest of them offered similar praise, even Snape remarked he wasn't as much of a dunderhead as he expected.
At that, Dumbledore smiled, pleased at Harry's progress.
If that damnable prophecy comes into play, it seems Harry is well on his way to ending Tom's evil.