CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE:
After her unsettling encounter with Salazar, Hermione had been going out of her way to avoid the man while trying not to make it obvious. She rarely went anywhere without Helena or Sylvianne, and when she wasn't with them she was either with Loki or with Merlin, who every second day showed up to take her to Brocéliande where he continued to teach her shape-shifting.
Loki, the first time he'd seen her with golden eyes, had looked smug as anything and snapped her up a massive banana-split with ice-cream, whipped cream, chocolate sauce, nuts, and cherries, which she took to mean he approved. She'd almost felt sick after eating the banana-split, it had been so sweet and rich, but it was delicious and it had been over a month now since she'd had proper ice-cream.
He began to turn up after every lesson she had with Merlin after that, and she'd told him excitedly about how she'd seen Merlin turn into an old man, a lion, a mouse and even a little girl! Loki had then winked at her and proceeded to shift into each mentioned form and she finally got the satisfaction of pulling on one of the long, springy honey-golden curls of the little girl-shape the way he always liked to tug on her curls to watch them bounce.
Merlin, because he was, to use one of Loki's favourite phrases, a complete and utter asshole, had refused to teach her how to change her ears into anything but cat ears— he'd then refused to tell her how to change them back for the next two days and Hermione just knew when she saw the gleeful look on Loki's face when he first saw them that she was never going to lose the loathed "kitten" nickname.
She'd just returned from a lesson with Merlin, near the end of her fourth week at Hogwarts and she, Helena and Sylvianne were about to go feed Bertramus the Giant Squid when they overheard the raised voices of Godric, Rowena, and Salazar as they crossed through the Entrance Hall. They traded looks and were prepared to dash to the main oak doors and out onto the grounds when Godric spotted them through the open doors connecting the Entrance Hall and the Great Hall, where all four of the founders appeared to be facing each other with scowls and crossed arms— well, except for Helga who just looked disappointed.
"Bugger," Hermione muttered, much to Helena's awed delight.
"Girls!" Godric boomed cheerfully, apparently ignorant to their strong desire to leave. "Come, come– help us with our little disagreement!"
"Why are you arguing?" Helena asked curiously as they reluctantly entered the Hall and made their way over to where the founders stood.
"We are... disagreeing over the students we feel we should accept into the school," Salazar explained, his face softening slightly as it always did when he looked on his daughter.
"What do you mean?" Sylvianne asked, her brows furrowing.
"What is he talking about, mama?" Helena frowned too.
"We each have different standards that we feel we should hold to those who wish to attend Hogwarts," Rowena explained, frustration evident in her voice. "I believe that our efforts are best to be focused on scholars; those who are interested in learning and knowledge, not warfare and battle!" Here, Rowena gave Godric a dark look.
"Nonsense!" Godric declared dismissively. "All young men should be trained how to duel, it is a fine and honourable skill to know how to protect and defend the innocent and defeat a most terrible foe!"
"Why would we need more warriors, there are more than enough of those around already," Salazar scoffed. "We should teach those who wish to achieve something with their lives, those with the ambition to accomplish great things!"
"Well I fail to see why you all feel the need to pick and choose which children you feel deserve to be taught!" Helga exclaimed, appearing to have had enough of the arguing. "Have you all forgotten just why we all came together to build this school? We wanted to create a safe place for all magical children to learn, not to sort them all as we see fit into categories of who we believe do or do not deserve to be taught!"
The other three Founders fell silent at Helga's outburst. There was faint shame visible on Rowena's face and Godric appeared uncomfortable at the reprimand, but Salazar wore a look of deep thought. Hermione felt extremely awkward about witnessing the scolding of three grown adults but before she could think of a way for her, Sylvianne and Helena to make a hasty retreat without making things even more awkward, Salazar spoke up.
"...sort," he murmured.
"Pardon?" Helga asked.
Salazar turned to Helga, a slow smile curving on his pale-skinned face. "You said that we are sorting the children into categories," he said, "so why not do just that?"
"I do believe you missed the point Helga intended to make quite entirely, old friend," Godric told him, but Rowena shook her head, a look of dawning comprehension on her own face.
"No, Salazar is right," she said. "And I think it would work."
"What would work? Speak plainly!" Godric exclaimed, annoyed. Hermione, however, was just starting to realise and understand what she was witnessing– the formation of the four Houses of Hogwarts.
"Salazar is suggesting that we create four separate categories, to sort our students into," Rowena explained with growing enthusiasm. "Perhaps... four Houses? They could be named Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin," she planned out loud. "The students that embody the traits that we most value can be sorted into the House named for ourselves— for example, those we sort into Gryffindor House would be the students who value bravery, chivalry, and combat above all else, whilst those sorted into Ravenclaw would be scholars, those who set the highest value in knowledge, wisdom, and learning."
"And instead of assigning the children to a dormitory of their age group, we could assign each House a separate sleeping quarters," Salazar suggested. "That will keep students with similar interests together, to support each other."
"It is a fine idea indeed, but how would we sort the children?" Godric asked excitedly, while Helga pursed her lips together in deep disapproval.
"Perhaps an interview with each new student?" Rowena suggested, but Salazar was already shaking his head.
"Children lie," he said bluntly. "Unless we could see into their heads, then we could not be sure we were getting an honest portrayal of who they are and what they value."
"Well what if you could look into their heads?" Hermione asked without thinking, finding herself just as invested in finding a solution as the four founders and Sylvianne and Helena both at this point. She didn't know how the sorting worked— that was a secret kept out of 'Hogwarts: A History' as it was considered a rite of passage for each new student— but she knew they must have come up with something that wasn't an interview, as 'Hogwarts: A History' had stated that the Sorting Ceremony took place during the Start Of Year feast, before the entire school, and an interview of each student would take far too long.
"What do you mean?" Rowena asked, her curious amber-brown eyes turning in the direction of her, Helena and Sylvianne.
"Well, there are magics that allow mind-reading," Hermione pointed out, thinking of all the times Loki had read her mind before giving her the occlumency books so she could learn to guard her thoughts.
"But that would be terribly invasive," Helga disagreed, albeit very kindly so. "I would loathe to have someone look into my mind."
"What about something, then?" Hermione suggested. "Surely it's possible to enchant some sort of object that's capable of reading the minds of prospective students, or at least reading an impression of what sort of person they are, to sort them into whichever House suits them best?"
"That... has potential," Salazar said slowly, already looking over to Rowena who was nodding.
"It would be tricky, of course, but not impossible," she agreed. "A piece of jewellery should work— a ring each new student must try on, perhaps, with a jewel that changes from clear to the colour representing the House a student would best be suited?"
"Adding a charm to a piece of jewellery to ensure it fits all who wear it would likely render the no doubt delicate magic required to ensure it can 'sort' the children most unstable," Salazar immediately disagreed.
"Besides, trying on a ring, or some piece of jewellery, is hardly exciting!" Godric scoffed.
"And I suppose you have a better idea?" Salazar drawled and Godric smirked.
"As a matter of fact, old friend, I do," he said, before whipping the pointed wizard's hat from his head and brandishing it before them all. "I present to you all," he said grandly, "the Sorting Hat!"
Hermione had an odd, shivery sort of feeling that she'd just witnessed something significant; like history had just been made before her, and she found herself struck momentarily silent in a breathless sort of awe.
Helena, it turned out, was much less impressed.
"The Sorting Hat is a silly name," she announced scornfully. "I think we should call him Cuthbert*."
Godric, still holding the hat– Hat?– just shrugged.
And that was how Cuthbert the Sorting Hat came to be.
~
"Is anyone else annoyed that Godric only said that young men should be trained how to fight and that nobody corrected him?" Hermione wondered later, as she, Sylvianne and Helena sat to eat their lunch (or technically "dinner", as the people in this time called it; dinner was eaten at "noon", which was at approximately three in the afternoon. In this time, everyone rose with the sun at six in the morning, so three pm was considered the ninth hour of the day, with the word noon coming from the Latin word "none", meaning 'ninth hour'. Honestly, it was all so fascinating; her days were filled with learning so many new and interesting things about everything from magic to daily living in these ancient times).
Gunther Gryffindor, who was sitting close enough to overhear them, made a rude noise. "Of course girls cannot be trained to fight!" He exclaimed, with all the scornful arrogance of a sexist prick in the making. Unsurprisingly, that did not sit well with Hermione who, very abruptly, found herself wanting to teach Gunther a lesson about just what a girl was capable of in a fight.
"Oh?" She said lightly, turning to smile sweetly at Gunther. Gunther's loud exclamation had gained the attention of the adults, who'd all quietened as Hermione continued to smile at an increasingly unnerved Gunther. "So you're saying that us ladies can't fight, are you?"
"Women do not fight," Gunther repeated despite his obvious unease as if it were something obvious, an indisputable fact. Hermione's smile sharpened into something predatory that she'd unknowingly copied straight from Loki.
"Oh yes we do," she said silkily. "Do you want me to show you just how well?"
Gunther looked uncertain for a moment, clearly not wanting to back down but very aware of the fact she was being taught by a god. And then, the uncertainty abruptly vanished from his face, replaced instead by a cocky smirk.
"I accept your challenge, Hulda. Shall we meet on the grounds, an hour after this meal?"
"That suits me perfectly," Hermione said, her voice and expression all sugary pleasantness, ignoring the looks the adults were trading and the clear disapproval there and biting back the wicked grin threatening to give away her amusement.
This was going to be fun.
As soon as she stood up to leave the Hall, the six-year-old twins, Gerda and Greta Gryffindor, descended upon her, Helena and Sylvianne.
"Do you think–"
"That you–"
"Can really–"
"–beat him?" they demanded.
"Of course she will," Helena said loyally, "Hulda can use magic without a wand!" Sylvianne looked much more worried then Helena, but there was still determination evident on her pale-skinned face.
"I believe she can do it," she said softly.
"Do you think—
"If she wins—"
"That father might—
"Finally let us—
"—learn to duel?" Gerda and Greta asked longingly.
"I promise I'll show just how capable us girls are and kick Gunther's butt," Hermione vowed and earned herself delighted twin smiles from twin little girls.
While Helena and the twins became more and more excited as the large minute hand up on the clock tower inched its way forwards, Sylvianne grew anxious and fretful. She didn't like confrontation, Hermione knew, so she wasn't surprised Sylvianne found it all so stressful.
"Don't worry," she told her quietly, while Helena and the twins bickered about something or other. "Loki's taught me how to fight. I'll be fine, I promise."
"I am afraid he will try to humiliate you," Sylvianne confessed. "Gunther is... unused to opposition. He is a boy and one of the oldest here, and he can be quick to anger when challenged."
"I can handle him," Hermione said firmly. "Trust me." Sylvianne gave her a tremulous smile.
"Of course I trust you," she said and her faith warmed Hermione right through.
The sudden tolling from the clock tower alerted them that it was time and together, Hermione, Helena, Sylvianne and the twins made their way to the Entrance Hall, exiting the large oaken doors of the castle and making their way down the steps, onto the lawn.
Gunther was already waiting with Godric beside him. Godric was holding two wooden swords and Hermione was confused for a moment before realisation struck— Gunther, it seemed, had found himself a loophole. She hadn't specified just what sort of duel she'd been referring to, just assuming that it would be one of magic, and Gunther had taken advantage of that assumption in a way that Salazar would probably be proud of when he heard.
By the smirk on Gunther's face, he was clearly waiting for her to back out of the challenge and Hermione frowned thoughtfully. She knew how to fight physically as well as magically, Loki had been teaching her jujitsu for nearly a year now, after all, and she'd picked it up far quicker then she'd ever expected, but sparring with a sword, even a wooden one, was something entirely new to her.
But Loki had taught her the basics of wielding a rather special blade of his, one that he always took back at the end of each session. Made of a metal that felt like silk over steel to touch, it was coloured bright as quicksilver and her god always handled like it was something infinitely precious– and infinitely dangerous. It held within it an undercurrent of energy that made Hermione think of a trapped lightning strike; raw, molten power contained in a blade a mere foot and a half long, less than the length of her arm. The blade wasn't a sword, but she was small enough that it almost felt like one– enough so that when, much to everyone's surprise, she accepted the wooden sword from Godric and tested its weight, her grip was comfortably solid.
Gunther appeared momentarily shocked that she hadn't just given up before he shook off his surprise and readied his own wooden practice sword, a smug grin already plastered over his face that made it clear he already believed he would be the winner of their duel. But Hermione knew better than to go into a fight so convinced of her own superiority and when Godric announced "begin!" she wasn't at all surprised that Gunther made the first move while she slid into a defensive position.
Godric's cocky lion cub smirked and charged her straight on, rushing forwards so that she had to dodge his strike, gracefully twisting out of the path of his swing. She dodged his next three strikes too, dancing around Gunther on light feet, before turning her body into the fourth strike to deflect the sword, not unlike how Loki had taught her to deflect the stab of a knife. Another strike, another evasion, then another and another– and that was when she spotted the opening she had been waiting for.
Jujitsu used an attacker's energy, strength, and speed against them, and as Gunther charged forwards once more, Hermione spun into a roundhouse kick, her booted foot slamming into his stomach. Physical strength didn't matter when it came to a blow to the stomach– if the abdominal muscles weren't tightened, the body's organs took the full force of the hit and Gunther doubled over wheezing, the shock of the collision giving her time to whack his fingers hard enough with the side of her wooden blade to make him drop his sword.
She then took advantage of Gunther's shock and how he was still struggling to breathe, darting into his space again to kick the air out of his lungs and then, with a conveniently placed foot and a harsh shove as he choked and wheezed, she sent him tumbling to the ground before pressing the tip of her practice sword firmly against the back of his neck.
"Do you yield?" She demanded harshly. "Or does your thick skull need a few more blows to get the lesson across?"
"I believe my son has been soundly defeated," Godric interrupted before she could go through with her threat, clearly amused and, going by the gleam in his eyes, also both surprised and impressed. "And I can assure you that this experience is not one he will soon forget. I declare Hulda to be the victor!"
"Good," Hermione muttered, stepping back from Gunther's still-wheezing form.
"That was utterly brilliant!" Helena declared, visibly delighted, and Sylvianne, her cheeks stained pink and her pale-grey eyes wide, nodded in agreement, smiling shyly at her.
"Oh, father please—"
"You must teach—"
"Us how to—"
"—fight like that!" Gerda and Greta pleaded together.
"Just because you're a girl and you've got magic, it doesn't mean you shouldn't be able to thoroughly thwack a tosser in the bollocks," Hermione added, giving the downed Gunther a sugary-sweet smile. Sylvianne made a mortified sound at her choice of language while Helena, Gerda, and Greta looked awed and impressed and Godric bellowed with laughter.
"I suppose, after such a show of capability, that I may have to consider it," he said merrily and Gerda and Greta both shrieked in delight.
That night at supper, the duel was all any of the children could talk about. Hermione was fairly certain that the adults, apart from Godric, were leaning more towards horrified and disapproving than anything, but for the girls in the castle she'd become some sort of hero.
She'd spun a tale to them about the skjaldmær— Norse warrior women known as "shield-maidens"— to explain her skill at fighting, despite the fact that the historical existence of skjaldmær was heavily debated, and then she'd spent the remainder of her afternoon teaching Sylvianne, Helena and the twins the beginnings of Jujitsu, with the explanation that self-defence didn't have to rely on magic and that any witch or wizard attacking them would be far less prepared to fend off a physical attack then a magical attack.
As she went to bed that night, curled up on the feather mattress with Sylvianne and Helena on either side of her, she realised that she wasn't dreading her new secondary-school as much as she had been before. She'd proven to herself she was capable of making friends, and with children older than her too, without the help of her cousins.
She was, she realised, probably about as ready as she'd ever be to start at her new school year. The only problem was it was going to be horribly difficult to leave Sylvianne, Helena, Morgana, Merlin, Marsion, and Argante behind. Once she left, she wouldn't ever get to see them again.
A thousand years in the future, they'd all be long dead.
~
~
* Cuthbert = Anglo-Saxon boy's name meaning intelligent / famous