Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and never will. The series and characters belong to the brilliant mind of JKRowling, and I do not make any money off of this.
Title: Tempus Transferre
Characters: Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Gryffindor, Laurene Fensworth, Draco Malfoy, Albus Dumbledore, Voldemort, Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin, Ash Gryffindor and Hazel Gryffindor, Sirius Black and Hermione Granger
Chapter: 1 of unknown
Number of words in Chapter: 6,583
Pairings: Harry (Godric)/Severus, Godric/Laurene
Warnings: AU, Time Travel, slash, amnesia, reincarnation, spoilers through book four, mentions of character death and the standard anything else that this demented author can think of.
Summary: On this fifteenth birthday, things don't go exactly as planned. He is faced with an interesting dilemma, and yet he can't even remember what happened. Harry is left with no memory and stuck in a time that he doesn't know anything about. Now he must face this new world with a new identity and help the world move onto a better time.
Notes: For this story, I am writing it for my friend Daeleniel Shadowphyre. She wanted to see a story where Harry is actually Godric Gryffindor, instead of the all too common Salazar Slytherin. So you have been warned in regards to this particular story. Also, it is currently unknown, but there might be actual use to words in the native languages of the British Isles. This is still unknown, but I will likely make use of that from quite a bit of linguistics study in regards to the derivatives of Gaelic. And the title is Latin for Time shift.
Chapter 1: Time's Melody
Midnight of July thirty-first came at a slow pace to one young man. It was soon to be his fifteenth birthday, and yet he had spent the entire summer alone. None of his friends had really talked to him that summer. Anything they had given him was practically useless drivel on how their days went. All this young man, a young man with a lightening bolt scar, could do was sit around and stare at his white ceiling at Number Four Privet Drive. This boy's name was Harry Potter, and yet, he wouldn't be using that name for much longer.
As he lay on his bed, staring at one of many cracks in the ceiling, he heard a tapping on his bedroom window. He turned his head and looked at the slightly smudged window with the peeling paint. On the other side were a few Owls. The birds waited for Harry to open the window. Harry let out a sigh and sat up, climbing off of his bed. He moved to the window slowly and a bit sluggishly. He hadn't wanted to climb out of his bed, but the Owls would not go away unless he opened the window. There was also the fact that his own snowy owl was out there. He undid the brass latch and slid the window open. He had to quickly move out of the way, as one owl in particular came barging right into the room and almost knocked him over. He was not too fond of the idea of being knocked over.
He waited for the owls to all land on his bed before he removed their packages. The first owl that had arrived flew off the instant Harry took off a letter. He didn't recognize the handwriting, nor did he recognize exactly what it was. Whatever this letter was about, it struck him as odd. He shrugged and set it aside, taking the packages off of the other birds. His own owl flew to her perch and drank some water. The other two owls took some water as well before flying off. Harry watched them get through the window before letting out a sigh. It wasn't that he didn't mind the company; it was just that the company of most owls was not something many people found useful.
He shut his window and locked it before petting his pet. She had been his only companion this summer, minus when she was off hunting or taking letters to their recipients. This left Harry even more time to himself. He got use to the solitude and to allow him more time to reflect on his thoughts, he began to write in a notebook. He had found the empty notebook in Dudley's stuff and began to use it. The fat boy would not miss it, as he hated anything that looked like real work. It was quickly getting filled with all his thoughts. There were so many that swirled in his head that the pages were quickly disappearing.
He picked up a package with a familiar scrawl across it and smiled. This was from his dear Godfather, Sirius Black. He wondered what the man had gotten him and was looking forward to opening the brown wrapped package. None of his gifts were ever in any fancy wrapping, but he didn't mind. Pulling the brown packaging paper, he found a book. He raised an eyebrow and opened it, a piece of parchment falling out and fluttering onto his bed. He picked up the piece of parchment and smiled at the words he read.
You told me that you've been doing a lot of writing recently, trying to straighten out your thoughts, well I decided to help. I don't know how much of what you've been using for writing has filled, but I thought that maybe you could use a new book. So here's a journal. I found it in some of my old stuff. I know I had bought it a long time ago, but never got around to using it. Enjoy it Harry.
Harry set the letter down and flipped through the many blank pages. He knew he would like this. He wondered how long it would take to fill up. He had been in an almost frenzy when it came to writing recently. He held onto the journal as he ripped off the paper from the other gift. He smiled at what it was. Inside was a beautiful leather wand holster. It was the kind that strapped onto the arm, and Harry appreciated it. He looked at who it was from and saw that it had come from Hermione. Only she could have thought to given him such a gift. He hadn't gone anywhere without his wand recently, so it made it all the more special for her to give him a way to keep it on him, without sticking it in his pocket.
He briefly set the journal down and strapped on the wand holster. The magic adjusted it to fit him perfectly and he slipped his wand into the holder. He had seen many wizards place their wands in there, and it seemed to allow for a quicker draw. This was something knew would be advantageous. He picked the journal up again. He wanted to keep that close. He opened his other gifts with one hand, not many of them useful. He had received candy, some Quidditch books and relatively nothing fancy. He knew that the two items he did receive were quite useful. Otherwise, nothing else held much interest. He then turned his attention to the letter that he had placed on his nightstand.
There was nothing remarkable about the envelope. There wasn't even anything written other than his name. Whoever had sent it might not be trusted. He was cautious in reaching out, hoping that nothing would happen. His hands touched the letter, nothing strange happening. He held his journal against his chest and opened the letter, his eyes never leaving his name. He reached in to pull out the letter that should be in the envelope. He met with empty space. His curious nature got in the way and he tilted the envelope to look inside. There was nothing inside, yet before he could even register what was happening, a bright flash of light flew out of the letter sheath and enveloped him in its scarlet depths.
Harry stood in there, freaking out. Someone had cast a spell on him. His journal was clenched tightly against his chest and the envelope dropped from his hand. The paper fluttered down as Harry's vision began to go black. The fuzziness was settling in, but before he even knew what was happening, his world just disappeared into a sea of blackness.
The scarlet light disappeared, taking Harry with it. All that was left was the paper with his name on it. The yellowish parchment just lay on the floor with the name Harry Potter scrawled in violet ink. Nobody would know what happened. Nor would anybody know about the fact that people were coming for Harry in two days time. These people found the abandoned room, only Hedwig and Harry's things there. Everything else was absent of the young fifteen-year-old that should have been there. All that stood out strangely was the parchment envelope.
Three people stood above a young man. The young man had messy black hair and an unusual bronzed complexion. Most of the people in the area were either pale, or were heavily tanned, but those people were generally peasants. In fact, the clothes that this person wore made him look like he was in his under garments to the people standing above him. One of the people happened to be a tall man with long red hair. His hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck by a piece of leather. His eyes were a piercing blue, but they held a very slight twinkle to them. He had no facial hair, which was unusual in the time period.
His clothes were quite typical of the period, at least typical of a noble man. These weren't the typical clothes of the noblemen that many English students learned about, but they showed his rank regardless. He wore a cloak that was thrown back over one shoulder. The cloak was made of animal fur. The odd thing about the cloak was that the animal fur was white. There were hints of gray and black as well, proving that this was the natural colour of the animal and not bleached to that colour. Around the edge of the cloak was a line of black fur as well. The clasp in the front of was made into the shape of a snake, a shining silver that was obviously well taken care of.
His tunic fell to a few inches above his knees. The colour was that of a soft blue, almost a perfect match to his eyes. The cuffs of the shirt had the exact same black fur as the lining trimming of the cloak. Around his waist was a belt made of leather, a black leather. The belt looked well taken care of, just like the rest of this man's appearance. He had a sword sheath attached to the side of his belt, made of the same black leather as his belt. There were decorations of silver snakes along the sheath. The sword itself had a brown leather handle with decorations in bronze. It brought a nice contrast to his black and silver theme. His leggings were also in a neutral brown colour, leather straps wrapping from just under his knees to keep them closed. What finished off the outfit was a pair of black boots, made of a material that wasn't exactly recognizable to the everyday person.
He reached out lightly and touched the side of the person, ignoring the sound that came from one of his female companions. The young man however, did not appear to wake up. He just lay there in his strange undergarments, which were a pair of pants and a shirt, oblivious to the world. His arms were still wrapped around his chest tightly. A book was being held there tightly, not letting go of the blank surface. The one man looked at the other, scowling darkly, making his blue eyes darken. He turned his head to the two women next to him.
One of the women had the appearance of a lady, her entire demeanour spoke of her status. Her hair fell into the proper hairstyle. A brown net covered her hair, pulling it back into a bun. She had a decent size chest and wide hips, something every man looked for in a woman. She wore a fine cloak made of fur that had been dyed to fall in a soft yellow colour. The edging of the cloak was a strip of white cloth. She wore a long dress that was held around her figure with a long belt made of many pieces of woven thread. The colour was of the same yellow dye as the cloak. Her dress itself had been done in the colour of a fine yellow. She held the stature of a woman that was married, the veil at the top of her head said just as much. Her feet could not be seen as the dress went all the way to the ground. Yet it was her eyes that were a remarkable brown that had a shining quality of motherhood to them. They matched the brown of her hair.
The other woman was a bit more different. She also had the actions and mannerisms of a lady. The only difference was her attire. She was dressed in the attire of a nun. Yet, she did not live in a convent like she should have. Her attire was strictly black. Her head covered with the traditional wrap and habit, yet a few wisps of blonde hair could be seen, having escaped the strict hold they were under. Her eyes were a soft green, a stark contrast against the black of her outfit. The woman had the appearance of one that had bared young before; her figure could be seen in the nuns outfit. Like her other feminine counterpart, her feet could not be seen, but the one contrast against her whole outfit was the strip of white the lined her cloak. She had left the convent, that much was sure. Yet, it was somewhat confusing as to why she was there. Her only jewellery was a single gold cross that hung around her neck and came to a stop right below her rib cage. She too had her eyes intently watching the young man.
The man shook his head at his companions and a piece of wood from out of his tunic sleeve and pointed it at the youth. He could not believe he was about to do this, but they needed answers. He quickly whispered something out of his breath and a soft blue light left the wood, now identified as a wand, and hit the youth. The boy's eyes flew open and he blinked several times. He looked around with his vivid green eyes. Confusion reigned in the depths of those eyes. For some reason, he couldn't figure out why he was lying on the ground, staring up at three unfamiliar people. He looked at them each in turn, curious as to what was happening. He didn't know what to think and everything was confusing him.
He felt terrified for some reason. One of the people spoke, and yet he couldn't understand what the person had said. He stared at them in confusion, not knowing what was going on. He chose to sit up and take in his surroundings. Nothing looked familiar to him; it was almost an instantaneous thought that told him that he didn't know anything about himself either. He was freaking out now. He turned around and faced the three people, his eyes incredibly wide. He looked at them with those scared eyes that spoke of confusion, and yet a sense of blankness.
The woman in the nun's outfit turned to the others and began speaking to them in words that the other man did not understand. The two listened to her, taking what she said to memory. All the boy could do was sit there and watch them. The three talked with words that were unfamiliar to the boy. He concentrated. He wanted to understand them; he desperately wanted to know what they were saying. He couldn't put up with being unable to understand their strange language. Something told him that he couldn't speak it, but he wanted to. He focused on them. One of them made a gesture towards him, the man. He knew they were speaking about him, but that was it. He looked down at the book that was being held in his chest and he knew that he wouldn't be able to understand any other way. He looked back at the people. He just watched curiously.
It was almost instantaneous, all his concentration, and not that he was aware of it, magic worked. It was desperate. He was in a situation that wasn't helping him. He wasn't able to figure out what was happening, and in such a situation, his magic began to compensate for his lack of understanding, for the time being. His mind seemed to begin clicking, their words being shared to him, making sense. It was as if those words were not foreign to him like they had been moments earlier. It felt to him like he had known the language his whole life, but it wasn't natural, he knew that.
"There is no way that we can keep him," the man said. The boy couldn't believe he understood that, when it sounded like gibberish earlier. "He has no idea what we're saying, and he seems to be in his undergarments. What do you expect us to do? He is a child." The man turned and looked at the boy with a strange look in his eyes. The man frowned at the look of dawning fell onto the younger man's face. He realized quickly, using his cunning mind, that the man could understand them after all. He waved his hand, cutting off all conversation with the others.
He turned and faced the younger man completely. He still looked scared, but he at least seemed to have some intelligence in his eyes and knew what they were saying. He looked at them in a bit of terror, waiting to see what would happen. "What is your name?" the stern man asked.
The younger one looked at him with wide green eyes. He just stared. He had no idea how to respond. "I...I..." He stopped. What was his name? Who was he? He couldn't recall any of that, and yet he knew there was knowledge flying through his mind of things he did know. He knew that the stick the man held was a wand and that witches and wizards could use them to cast spells. He knew these, he could list the spells he knew right off the top of his head, yet he had no idea who he was, nor did he have an idea how he knew these things or where he had come from.
The woman with the brown hair chuckled. "My dear Salazar, you're scaring the young lad." She then turned her eyes fully onto the other man and gave him a motherly smile. "I'm sorry about Salazar here. The pour man seems to have lost all sense of his mind. Can you tell us what happened to you? We found you unconscious and in your undergarments." The boy looked at himself and saw that he was in his pyjamas, not that he thought of them at that moment. The woman had called them undergarments. That had to mean they were exactly as she said. It was curious as to why he would be wearing nothing but underclothes. He looked back at the three people; they were waiting for an answer.
"I...I...I don't know," he admitted timidly. The brown haired woman gave him a soft smile. She then looked at the man and shook her head. The man scowled and kept his blue eyes on the younger man. He didn't trust him; he also didn't know what to make of this man. The person looked so timid and scared that it was pathetic, and yet there was something radiating off of him that was proof that he was quite powerful. The power that was being emitted by the younger lad proved that.
He then looked over at his fellow people. "Helga, we have to be careful. We cannot trust people with no qualms about what is happening. We have to be careful; otherwise we'll find ourselves in a series of problems that we might have been able to avoid." The brown haired woman looked at him, responding to the name of Helga. She frowned at Salazar, the only man there with a name, and shook her head in response to his statement.
The other woman let a soft sigh escape her lips. "It has gotten quite chilly out, we should make our way into the castle, let's bring our lost gryffin with us." The young man looked at her as she said the word gryffin. It did sound a bit familiar, but he wasn't too sure as to exactly what it meant. It was weird to have something that sounded recognizable, but not figure out what it was. Salazar only grumbled as he walked over to the unnamed man.
The man sat still and was instantly hauled to his feet quite roughly by Salazar. He winced at the tight hold on his arm. It felt like it would definitely be bruised when the hand let go of his arm. Salazar dragged him over to the two women, not caring if he was rough with the boy. "Let's get this over with, the quicker we reach the doors, the better." There it was again, another familiar sound that made him wonder what it was.
Gryffin and doors, it didn't sound completely right, but it sounded so familiar, like it was something he should know. His brain mulled over it. The sound that was so familiar kept on striking him in a way he had no particular sense why. He was dragged to the doors of the school, his mind still trying to figure out something that was vaguely familiar. Gryffin door, that sounded almost like a door for gryffins, and yet it sounded like it belonged to him somehow. He was still being led; his mind so entrenched in its thoughts that he didn't notice certain things, almost.
"Gryffin door," he muttered to himself. Salazar heard the mutter and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. The boy looked at him. "Gryffin door sounds familiar." Salazar looked at the other two with curiosity on his face.
Helga looked at him. "Is that your name? Gryffin door?" She figured that might be why it sounds familiar. The boy looked at her with something dawning on his face. The sound that escaped his closed lips said more than most people would have ever thought. He looked between the three of them, not recognizing any of them. He just stared and then looked down at the book in his arms.
"Gryffindor," he said. "Is that my name? It sounds right." He didn't seem to think that it might not be, but it was the only thing that could work in any way. He clutched his book even more tightly to himself and continued to keep it close to him. It felt important, and he wanted anything important to stay with him. He hoped that whatever it was would be kind and figure something out for him. It had to be his name; he was convinced that it was.
The unknown woman smiled. "Gryffindor, how unusual a name. I take it you're not from around here. Can you recall anything else? I'm quite certain that Gryffindor cannot be your first name." The man that was now calling himself Gryffindor shook his head. He couldn't recall anything else. He had only come across that by a major fluke and his brain stringing it together. It had to be his name, that was all he could say. It was too familiar for it not to be.
Salazar pushed the doors to the large, overshadowing castle open with a resounding bang. "Rowena, do not encourage the boy. Gryffindor is hardly a name. Then again, with the state of his undergarments, I shouldn't be too surprised. By the might of God it is ridiculous what we see today." There it was again, that thought in the back of his head that said something familiar to him. God, but half of it was missing. There was something that he didn't know. Maybe it was part of his first name. She was right, Gryffindor didn't sound like it belonged at the beginning of a name.
Salazar gave out a hiss at the woman. Rowena only smiled at him, adjusting her cloak to sit better on her shoulders. Helga gave a soft chuckle in response and smiled at the two. "Salazar, be kind. Rowena is trying to find some way of making the dear lad remember. Can you remember how old you are?" she asked. He had to stop and think about it. Something floated into the forefront of his mind. He wondered how those two things seemed to still be in his mind, when he couldn't remember who he was or his life. He didn't understand that. He looked at Helga again, trying to return her smile, but had trouble with Salazar holding him as tightly as he was.
"I'm fifteen," he said. "And I remember something about July thirty-first...I think that's my birthday, that seems correct to my mind." He looked at the three older people. Salazar's jaw was set at the pronouncement that he was only fifteen. The other two women just gave him a reassuring smile. He looked down again. Now that the thought was out of his mind, it went back over pondering why god sounded like it belonged somehow. He wanted the answer to that question to just come out to him. This was unlikely to happen.
The four people stood in the Entrance Hall to the grand castle. The younger man stared in brilliant awe. He couldn't believe what he was seeing around him. This was something he hadn't expected to ever seen. He saw the grand building and knew that it had to be positively huge. He looked at the others. Suddenly two children ran by, looking only a little younger than him. He watched them run off. "Get back here Rick!" The first child laughed and took stairs that led down into the underbelly of the castle. The other child just followed him.
Another click that seemed to fit in with the first part of god and it was Rick. The boy's brain was running in over time now. He knew that they combined and his mind quickly did so. It went a lot faster than when he first thought over the whole process of Gryffindor, but he knew it quite well. "Godric," he said. "Godric Gryffindor, that has to be my name, it sounds right." The three adults looked at him, Salazar with a raised eyebrow. He looked at them. He scowled darkly at the sound of the name. That sounded quite ridiculous to him.
Salazar's scowl deepened. "Godric Gryffindor? That sounds like the worst name in the world. Your family had to have been delusional." The boy, now known as Godric, scowled darkly at him. He happened to react without thinking and kicked Salazar in the knee. The man winced in reaction. He held onto his knee and glared at the younger boy. At least it got him to finally let go of the younger man. Godric reacted and stepped backwards as quickly as possible and had his wand drawn, the other hand still clutching his book. He had no idea how he acted so instinctually, but there he was with a wand in hand, ready to react at the moment that Salazar tried anything. The older man however just glared at Godric and rubbed his knee.
Rowena chuckled from behind Godric. "You did deserve that one Salazar. Many people don't take well to someone insulting their relatives, no matter if they remember them or not. So it was quite a bad idea on your part." Salazar just hissed at her. Something in the back of Godric's mind told him that he should have understood it, but he didn't. He didn't know how he could even do that.
Helga shook her head and gently set a hand on Godric's arm. "Calm down, Salazar shall not hurt you. You startled him; nobody has ever kicked him in the knee before." Godric just looked at the lady and nodded a very slight bit. She gave another smile to the younger man and proceeded to look over at Salazar, who had finally stopped whining about his knee. Salazar glared at Helga, only receiving a smile from her. The man then looked over at Godric. The boy didn't seem to be very strong, but he was quite powerful it seemed, in more than just magic.
Salazar watched the young man with a gleam in his eye. There is a slight twinkle there that seems to say that he sees quite a bit of promise in this young man. For someone that seemed to be completely out of his depth, no memory can do that, he had a sense about him that told him there was more than meets the eye. He liked that idea quite a bit. This told him that something was worth dealing with. He wondered if there would be a way to take this young man under his wing. He got the feeling that he might be able to.
Rowena looked over Harry and then at Salazar once again. "He really should be dressed properly. I'm quite certain that we can count on you to find something for him to wear Salazar." The man looked at her and began to open his mouth and say something, but Rowena had already turned and taken Helga with her. Salazar glared at the backs of the two women and sighed. He then looked at Godric and shook his head. He knew he would have to do something about that. He also knew that none of his clothes would fit him. This instantly told him that he would have to shrink them to fit the fifteen year old. As far as Salazar could tell, this poor boy had likely been malnourished. He knew that a boy of his age should be much taller than he was.
Salazar scowled again and gestured for Godric to follow him. He took a few steps, but didn't hear the rustle of fabric behind him that stated the younger man was following. He looked at him and sighed. He stood there, his wand still out and the book clutched to his chest. Salazar shook his head and turned to face the young man completely. "Follow me; we're going to find something that you can wear. You cannot be walking around in your undergarments. Maybe then we can find something suitable to allow for more clothing. Only the devil knows how you ended up here." Godric nodded and began to follow Salazar as the man walked off. He took in his surroundings.
The castle was made of stone, new looking stone. The walls were mostly bare, but that felt as if it would change at some point. He followed Salazar down the very same steps he had seen the other boys run down previously. They were a bit steep and lead into the dungeons. They were gloomier than the rest of the castle. There were at least windows in the upper levels. All that lit their way down the dreary path of the dungeons were the many torches that lined the bare walls. Godric clutched both his wand and book closer. He didn't want to lose either of them. Salazar turned a corner and Godric almost missed it. He was trying to follow as closely as possible. This was a difficult task, but he knew that he would manage it eventually.
Salazar looked over his shoulder and saw how far behind Godric had fallen. All he could do was groan at the sight of the younger wizard falling behind. He muttered and turned around, walking towards him. He grabbed him by the arm and proceeded to drag him down the halls. Godric stumbled along behind the older man, almost tripping at several points. The hard floors were difficult on his bare feet and dreadfully uncomfortable as well. He looked at Salazar's boots and felt a bit jealous; at least the man had foot protection. Godric's feet were freezing. He couldn't believe how cold it could be down there.
Salazar finally stopped and stood in front of a blank wall. Godric looked at him. He couldn't believe the man was just standing in front of a wall. He glared at the man and stopped when he heard a hissing noise. It was the same noise that Salazar kept using earlier. Godric stared at him; something in the back of his mind was still telling him that he should know what that hissing means. The nagging in the back of his mind was driving him absolutely batty. He stood there, waiting for Salazar to stop hissing at an empty wall. A moment later a rumbling sound was heard and the wall slid back, revealing a nice set of rooms.
Godric peered into the room for a moment before being dragged into them by Salazar. The room had a large bed and a wardrobe. The four poster bed was large and big enough for three people to sleep comfortably. The wood was a deep wood that was almost a perfect black. The blankets were animal skins that were coloured in green. He could see a lining of black fur like on his cloak. The floor was stone and had no rugs covering the bare, grey stone. A fire crackled in the hearth, sending the smoke up the chimney. The flames danced and cast a glow onto the wooden stool near the fireplace.
The door slid shut behind them and the torches lit up on the wall. Godric jumped at the whooshing sound of the torches lighting. He looked at Salazar, watching the man pull off his cloak. Godric didn't know what to make of everything that he was seeing. The older man seemed to be tired and in need of rest. Salazar's face had stress lines marring the delicate features of his Norse background. Godric watched him as he walked over to the wardrobe. It looked expensive and he wasn't sure that it even belonged. It was made of the same wood as the four poster bed that sat in the room. He looked at the two, seeing the matching set.
"Your bed and wardrobe look expensive," Godric said. Salazar had opened the doors to the wardrobe, revealing a nice assortment of clothes. He raised an eyebrow at Godric and shook his head before he began to look through his outfits. He seemed to be trying to find something that would fit Godric. Compared to Salazar, Godric was tiny. Salazar had a tall over six foot frame, where as Godric was only about five foot six and it made him a foot shorter than Salazar.
Salazar sighed and pulled out a couple items and threw them onto the nearby bed. He looked at Godric and shook his head once again. "I carved these myself; it took time and a lot of wood to accomplish. Now, those are the clothes you can wear, but I will have to shrink them to fit you. I have never seen a fifteen-year-old as short as you are." Godric glared at him, he may not remember who he was, but he didn't see a problem with his height. He knew that he wasn't as tall as he could be, but that wasn't a problem in his mind. He walked over to the bed and picked up the shirt. Godric looked at the item. It looked like it would be huge on him.
He slid his shirt off and slid the tunic over his head. It was a faded red that came off as more of a scarlet colour. The shirt seemed to have been buried in the back of the wardrobe for a while, which resulted in the colour not getting as much light as it should have. He slid the shirt over his head and looked at how it fell to his knees. He then slid his pants off and slid the leggings on. They were definitely made for someone larger than him. They were bunched up at his ankles, just so his feet would fit. Salazar brought over a pair of soft shoes and leg wraps. He also had a belt in his hands.
"I was right; I would need to shrink these to fit. We'll need to find someone who can sew you some clothes and get what you need." He handed the items over to Godric and saw that Godric set the leg wraps down and slid on the shoes and the belt. Salazar took his wand out and shrunk the items to fit. He had seen the wand holster attached to Godric's arm. He was quite impressed; obviously Godric had some sort of money somewhere if he had a nice wand holster like that. Of course, not being sure of who he was and what his past was, it was unlikely that he would be able to do anything about it. Once the clothes fit him, he helped Godric with the leg wrappings, which the younger man seemed to have no idea what to use them for.
Godric remained silent, watching Salazar for some reason that unnerved the older man. He didn't understand this youth. He could see the vivid green eyes that struck him more as a sea green. When the boy looked to be thinking hard his eyes became more of a forest green, losing that little hint of blue that gave them the sea green colour. Salazar felt intrigued just by those eyes. He knew that they held the power that was hidden behind the strange frames that sat upon his face. He reached up to take them off, since they did not look to fit in. Godric stopped him.
Salazar sighed and got the glasses off of Godric. The boy began to squint, apparently unable to see. He shook his head and pulled out his wand. It was obvious the boy couldn't make out him doing so. If he could, he would have pulled out his wand and tried to get away. Godric just couldn't see it. This told Salazar what the glasses were likely for. He shook his head and cast a sight spell; it was a temporary solution, only correcting vision for up to a week, but that would give him the time he needed to brew the potion. It was a permanent solution to the eyesight problem. Many witches or wizards that were born with sight issues had the potion made, but Godric apparently had another solution. This wasn't a useful one, but Salazar didn't need to tell Godric that.
Godric blinked several times as his eyes cleared up. He could suddenly see Salazar holding a wand in his hand as clearly as he could with his glasses on. This confused him, how had it happened? He sat there, staring at Salazar. He knew that the man hadn't hurt him, because if he had, he would have taken advantage of him with his eyes so bad. Salazar then waved his wand and made sure the clothes fit Godric before standing up completely. Godric looked at the shoes in his hands and slid them on. He didn't know what to say about the whole niceness, but he would eventually get his own items, he was certain of that.
Godric stood up when Salazar stepped away from him. The older man watched the timid stature of the fifteen-year-old. He hunched in on himself. At times he looked so self assured and confident, and yet he didn't in that very moment. Salazar shook his head and set his hand on Godric's shoulder. He led him out of his rooms to go and meet with Rowena and Helga upstairs. Something would happen with the boy, that much was obvious. Salazar sighed as they made their way out of the dungeons. This young man was unusual and that was something that Salazar wanted to figure out.
This left one question on Salazar's mind. What was it about the boy? He seemed to draw people to protect him, and yet he radiated power at the same time. Salazar shook his head and led him out of the dungeon, knowing that there was something going on. If only he knew what it was, but he would eventually figure it out, he wasn't a Slytherin for nothing.
A/N: Happy Holidays everyone! This is a story I started a while ago for a friend. She wanted to see something new in the department of Harry going to the Founders time. I hope you liked this all. Happy Holidays again!