Verus

10th century, Hogwarts Castle

Age ten, a year before he was set to get his Hogwarts letter, things changed for Harry. There were more whispers travelling throughout the castle, Merlin visited far too often for it to go unnoticed, he was spending more and more time alone, focused on his studies, and the founders wore concerned looks whenever they thought he wasn’t in sight. It wasn’t worrying per se, Harry knew that they would tell all in due time, though he couldn’t help but feel a little ostracised. It seemed as though something big was brewing. A storm, perhaps.

“And where do you suppose we are to go from here?”

Harry stiffened in his step upon hearing the familiar drawl of Salazar echo around the upcoming corner. He had been wandering throughout the castle halls aimlessly for the better part of an hour now, in search of something to keep him occupied, seeing as dinner had yet to be prepared. Not that he blamed the elves for his grumbling stomach, it was Godric who much preferred later lunches, which then set back everything else too, dinner included. But it wasn’t Sal’s voice which had made him pause, there was just something rather odd about the strain that had wavered the man’s tone, Harry had never heard Sal sound quite so apprehensive.

Cautiously, Harry pressed his body up against the nearest stone wall. He felt its cold, jagged edges stab at the blades of his shoulders as he crept along its path to listen in closer to the conversation.

“That, I am unsure of, Salazar. I fear my meddling is what has caused this obvious change to become.”

That voice was decidedly Merlin, Harry would recognise his grave tone anywhere (it also tended to add a certain ardour to his retelling of old tales).

A brief flutter of questions flitted through Harry’s mind after having heard the elder wizard’s answer, but his attention was quickly drawn back to the matter at hand. The group seemed none the wiser to his presence.

“Simply altering the life of one child can’t be merely enough to set off something like this!” Came Helga’s unexpected response, and Harry was rather surprised to hear the vitriol in which lined her tone. The witch was usually so soft spoken.

“Helga, my dear, nothing yet is set in stone. Although, as I have said, it is a theory that concerns me greatly.” Merlin acquiesced, and Harry didn’t have to see the wizard to know what kind of expression his face was set in. “You must know that I did not see much of the path that the child was set to start on all those years ago, mainly just a glimpse at the hardships he would face during his youth, and the beginning years of his schooling. And then as you know, his demise.”

A sombre quiet tore through the castle, and Harry forced himself to hold his breath.

“We can understand that, Merlin,” Godric’s resounding voice bled through into the conversation, though Harry found it lacked its usual enthusiasm. “But do you believe this… lostwizard’s attempts at searching are all in vain?”

Merlin gave only a sombre reply, “He is close, that much I know.”

“What is our best option here?” Rowena questioned after a sharp inhale sounded, taking the lead.

“We sit and we wait. That is all we truly can do.”

—

Since having overheard the odd conversation between his mentors, Harry’s mind had been some what out of sorts. He was far too transfixed on finding out what was going on. Not that anyone else seemed to noticed, what with all the mayhem happening behind closed doors and the rest of the castle’s occupants, or so Harry had thought.

§Snakelet. I thought that you would be more privy to the fact that sneaking around without a Muffliato charm would only end up getting you caught.§

Harry jumped with a start at the sudden hiss from behind him and spun around on the heel of his boot to find Salazar stood there. The man towered over him, his face inscrutable, lips pressed, eyes hard. He did not look at all surprised to have found Harry snooping.

The child smiled innocently up at Salazar just as he stepped away from the chamber door beside them, which, conveniently, had been left somewhat ajar.

“Heya, Sal! Little early for your afternoon stroll, is it not?”

Salazar narrowed his eyes at the young boy before him, hands clasped tightly behind his back, before he stepped around his smaller frame and forcefully pushed the heavy oak door open further to reveal themselves to the room’s occupants.

“It seems you have a visitor, Godric.” Salazar informed the redheaded man as he strode towards the round table the rest of the founders had gathered around in a flurry of robes, leaving Harry to stand contritely at the open entrance.

“Harry.” Rowena spoke, her lifted brows were the only thing that gave away her surprise, “Were you creeping?”

Immediately Harry went to shake his head but a sharp look from Sal had him sighing, “I’ve just been wondering what’s been going on, you’ve all been so secretive as of late.”

Rowena gifted him a sad smile. “I apologise, it was not our intention to keep you on the outside of all these matters.”

Harry returned the gesture as he toed at the cobbled stone beneath his feet. “I know, I just want know if I can be of help.”

“Come, child.” Helga spoke softly. She stretched a hand out towards him and Harry felt a bout of warmth burn through him as he hurried over to join her.

The blonde witch wound an arm around his waist and pulled him close to her side, Harry’s eyes fell close as she pressed an affectionate peck to his temple. She always radiated reassurance and familiarity.

“There isn’t much to reveal, Harry.” Godric told the child, and a small smile tugged at the man’s lips when Harry looked across the table at him. “Just that there have been many changes occurring in your timeline, enough of them that Merlin deemed it only right for us to know.”

Harry’s brow furrowed, “Bad changes?”

No one spoke for a long moment, their gazes fixed on anything other than him, but then Salazar leant forward in his seat. The man’s long, pale fingers intertwined seamlessly on the wood that sat between them, his sole focus on Harry as he inhaled.

“As of yet, that is undecided. But it is not for you to dwell upon, Little Snake.” Salazar told him truthfully and although he didn’t bare even the beginnings of a smile, Harry witnessed the sincerity in his eyes, “We are merely taking these proceedings into consideration. We want what is best for you, and that means ensuring that you are safe. Both here, and in the future.”

“Does that mean you think I’m at risk?” Harry retorted, his emerald eyes did not waver from the dark haired man.

Salazar held a bated breath as he sat back more comfortably in his seat, swiping at his outer robes as though the topic somehow made him uncomfortable. But Harry knew better, the potioneer was not the type of man who put his thoughts or feelings on display. Not when he could help it.

“For now it is better for us to be cautious.” Is what Sal settled on, then turned his steely gaze to Harry once more. “Which is why we are here to debate over whether your impending return should be pushed back to a later date.”

Harry blanched and immediately disentangled himself from Helga to press further against the round table, “What! Why? These changes can’t be so serious that they threaten my arrival at Hogwarts!”

Salazar presented him with a look which told Harry he was not impressed by his immediate reaction. But the boy didn’t stand down, his gaze shifted over the three remaining founders, eyes flickering between their serious faces.

Godric exhaled heavily after a moment and his mouth thinned. “This is why we should not have involved him in these matters. He is but a mere child, and it is too important a decision to waste any time on upset.”

Hurt, Harry reeled back, his face pinched as his hands fell to his sides.

Somewhere beside him, Helga heaved a wordless sigh.

“Harry, dear, Merlin is looking further into things but this is not a frivolous game, if you are in harms way then we must do all we can to prevent it.” Rowena intervened in an attempt to diminish the boy’s distress, “Please try to see reason, we are not doing this to spite you.”

Harry bit back his sharp retort through gritted teeth, knowing it wouldn’t be appreciated.

Deep down, he understood where they were all coming from. But it didn’t mean that their words lacked any kind of sting. He drew in a sharp breath and turned to exit, hastily ignoring the calls of his name as he swept out of the room.

It was a long while later before any one came to find him, haven given him the time he’d needed to cool off.

Harry was perched on one of the rickety railings of the wooden bridge- a favourite spot of his- staring deep into the eye of the ravine which sat far, far below. He felt the approach a while before he actually spotted his visitor, his magic still thawing under his skin long after he’d stormed out of the founders chambers in a childish strop. Its tendrils stretched outwards with a mind of their own, sending him waves that thrummed through his veins and alerted his body to the incomer.

Harry didn’t look up upon their arrival, simply continued to drop a few of the rocks he had collected into the mouth of the blackened abyss. They never made a sound, the bottom too far down for even an echo to reach Harry’s ears.

“I didn’t know you were visiting today.” Harry commented as he proceeded to drop yet another stone into the ravine.

Merlin simply hummed as his wrinkled hands pressed against the wooden beam the boy was seated upon, he wore only a singular ring on his index, the band a thimble silver, its centre a thick gold.

“I hadn’t planned to, but then Rowena called, you see.”

Harry pressed his lips firmly together and didn’t pay the man much mind as he threw another stone. Harder this time.

The ageing wizard chuckled quietly to himself, but loud enough so that Harry heard and tilted his head towards him in confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

Merlin breathed in and then out, the gesture accompanied by an amused smile. “Just, you remind me a lot of myself at your age… so brash.”

Harry frowned, “And that’s a bad thing? To be- what did you call it, brash?”

Merlin’s grin did not falter. “No, not bad, my dear. Simply ironic. My mother would laugh if she could see me now.”

The boy blinked owlishly as he took in the words of the man stood next to him. “Your mother, you knew of her?”

“I did, she raised me, but she was also killed a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry.” Harry whispered sympathetically, his voice carried in the evening wind.

The other wizard smiled, “Do not be, it is merely the circle of life, child.”

Harry nodded and fiddled with one of the smooth stones he had collected from the courtyard as a quiet settled between them, he danced it across his fingertips.

From this point of the wooden bridge all anyone was able to see was the long drop below. The castle was left hidden behind the shield of the tarred roof and the rest of the walkway, headed towards the Haunted Woods, curved just far enough so that a large beam concealed the remaining path.

“I won’t be going to Hogwarts next September, will I?” Harry voiced after a few beats, but it didn’t sound like a question, more so a statement.

When he finally met Merlin’s eyes they were apologetic. “I do not believe so, my dear.”

Harry chewed at his bottom lip. Ever since he had started his schooling, he’d been forced to come to terms with the fact that he would soon be leaving the life he had built here. That he would one day have to say goodbye to all that he knew. Goodbye to those that he loved and idolised, those who had taken him in and given him a home.

Although he assumed that the castle would still be standing in the far future, he knew in his heart that it would not be the same place he knew now, not without Ric, without Ro and Helga. Without Sal.

He sighed faintly just as a gentle hand came to rest upon his shoulder.

“Things happen for a reason, Harry. Do not let this setback deter you. When the day comes for you to return, you will be ready, and those here will be proud.” Merlin assured him with a consoling smile. “You are destined for great things, child. Time is but a construct.”

Harry couldn’t help his snort and tilted his head back to peer up at the tall man. “Easy for you to say- how old are you again?”

Merlin rolled his eyes playfully as he took a step back, “Manners, my dear, are free. Do remember that the next time you ask something so improper.”

Harry laughed before he hopped off of the railing to join the wizard on his stroll back towards the castle.

“So, are you really not going to tell me?”

Merlin simply side-eyed the boy with a faint quirk to his lip.

—

1990, Wiltshire, England.

Three days. Three treacherous days it had taken. And that had merely amounted to the time it had taken for them to return.

He had searched for months, years, almost a decade. Hopeful that one day they would soon be reunited.

It had been an almighty struggle. He had been on the run for the majority of his drawn-out search, hiding as he scoured countries, listening in shadows and shady circles for tidbits of information that only someone like him would hold valuable. But his efforts hadn’t all been in vain. No, for they had led him back home. Back to his saviour.

The journey had been long, practically all-consuming. But he had pushed on, alongside the silver scaled serpent in which he had stowed away in the linings of the oversized coat he had procured somewhere between the forest of Tirana, and the bustling city of Sofia.

It had been difficult, to say the least, having to apparate from place to place without a solid image in mind, merely the grainy photographs the dirty muggles had pointed him towards in the pages of their simplistic books.

At least they had been good for one thing, he found himself thinking bitterly as he trudged on just a little further, gravel kicking up at his feet.

He hadn’t been able to apparate very far during his travels- not with the unfamiliar wand he now wielded. So it had been border to border at first, and in hindsight, he figured he had only made it that far due to his magic having thrived so much off of his transparent excitement, but the distance had rapidly become gruelling as the hours had passed them by. The snake had ordered him to rest somewhere along the outskirts of Romania, and from then on out he had decided to focus on making it to shorter distances, city to city, town to town. It had elongated his task immensely, but without a portkey they’d had no other way of returning back to the mainland without rousing any unnecessary suspicion.

He withheld a heavy sigh. His feet were blistered, his mouth was parched, and yet he still ventured on, undeterred. The snake hissed again, for the umpteenth time since he had turned up this particular path. Sadly, he had never been blessed with the gift of parseltongue, it only ever having been given to a rare special few, but whether it was down to the lengthy time they had spent together, or the years which he had spent isolated and obsessed, the man mostly understood what the serpent spouted in his ear.

“Yes, I understand. Not far now, I swear it.”

And he did swear it, because just up ahead, behind a horde of healthy Hawthorn trees, sat the pristine manor they had long been searching for.

The man allowed himself a short breath of relief at the magnificent sight of it, though he knew his journey was far from over yet.