Scourge of the Heathen- Chapter 16

AN: Couldn't quite get around to the edit yesterday. Hope you enjoy!

Casting-

Rowena- Anna Belik

Salazar’s portkey brought them to London’s southern gate. It was a far cry from the London that Harry knew growing up.  A thousand-year difference will do that, I suppose. It would be centuries until the city became one of the largest in Western Europe.  

Until 886, during Alfred’s reign in Wessex, the old Roman city sat largely abandoned. The majority of the city’s occupants lived in the village of Lundenwic further down the Thames. Even that was diminished thanks to Viking incursions from the river and their implementation of Danelaw.

Still, nearly thirty years later, the city was growing again. There were stables to the right hand side of the gate as they neared.  And more than one traveler was paying the stablemaster to watch their horses.  Wagons passed through the gates, accosted by the guards to know their business.

“London… it really is quite the city, though I rarely miss it when I leave.”  Salzar commented as they passed through the gate unimpeded. Two men without goods on them were largely ignored. Though that didn’t stop a few of the locals eyeing them up as they passed.

In London, it was as common to see Thor’s Hammer around a person’s neck as it was the crucifix. The city faced raids and could be claimed by both Saxon and Dane alike at different times, it once existed within Danelaw and some of those people remained even after Alfred’s retaking and Aethelflaed’s continued safekeeping for Mercia. And everyday more of them become Christian because of it. Almost as though that was the old king’s intention.

There was a dull stench to the city, not unbearable, but not surprising either. There was still old Roman drainage that helped to deal with the waste of men and beast alike, but you couldn’t fully remove it. Well, muggles certainly can’t. Not yet anyway.

A small bit of wandless magic left his nostrils blessedly clear of the smells. Looking to his companion for this little excursion, Harry shook his head slightly, “It’s been years since I was last in London. It’s changed a great deal.”

“As do most things with enough time in between.”

“There’s some truth to that, aye.” He intended to be an instrument of that change. And hopefully for the better.

Salazar grabbed him by the shoulder and led him down another alleyway, “This way will get us there faster.” He wore a roguish smile, “And of course there’s some truth to what I said. I’m rarely wrong about such things.”

If there was one thing about Salazar Slytherin that didn’t surprise Harry upon meeting the founder in the flesh, it was his ego. They made their way through the city, crossing a bridge on the Thames to head to the northern bank. The wooden structures of the southern bank gave way to stone, and the Roman influence became obvious. In the distance, Harry could make out the towering height of the old amphitheater and the steeple of the largest church he’d seen yet just beside it. It was the original St. Paul’s Cathedral built over 300 years before.

They walked along the street next to the Thames until Harry could see the walls that surrounded the city. Salazar took hold of his shoulder again and guided him to a dark, abandoned corner, “We’re nearly there… wouldn’t do us well if you don’t look the part.” He held up a pair of shackles and wore an amused grin.

“Get that smile off your face, otherwise I might just have to smack it off.” Despite his irritation, he still offered his wrists.

Salazar chuckled heartily as he wrapped the cold metal around his arms and clicked them into place, “My newest friend, you’re far too tetchy. Now, shall we.” He gestured for Harry to walk in front. It was the wise thing to do when escorting a prisoner, after all.

Not knowing the way, Harry relied on Salazar to steer him in the right direction. The crowd of people thinned as they drew nearer to their destination, until there was almost no one in the street. It was eerily quiet.  

Harry could see the fluted columns rising above that marked out one of the old Roman buildings, “It seems… abandoned?” he noted.

“By design. There are rumors of terrible curses and murderous ghosts within the old temple. A terrible fate for anyone who disturbs the house of one of their gods… Of course, those rumors only help with the repelling wards that have been put in place.” As they stepped through an archway, Harry could feel the magic washing over him before he saw the bustle of people. At either side of the archway, there was a pair of guards stationed just in case a muggle happened to straggle into their little hideaway.

This wasn’t just where the Wizard’s Council met, that much was immediately obvious. The palatial size of the old temple made it a gathering place for the many magical residents of the city. There were merchants selling anything from tonics and potions to brooms and flying carpets. Some were in simple wooden stalls while others were in well-built wooden buildings. There was one in particular that looked distinctly familiar.

Emblazoned on the front, in much cleaner and brighter gold than he remembered in his own time was a singular name: Ollivander’s: Maker’s of Fine Wands since 382 BC. Harry knew that the family had been making wands in Britain since before the Roman occupation, but to see proof of it for himself was something else entirely. I wonder when it was moved though. Because Diagon Alley, when it was eventually established, would be several miles west of its current location within the Roman walls.

Salazar noticed his interest, “Ollivander is the premier wandmaker in this country, you know. My first wand was one of his creations, but I required something a bit more unique as I grew older.”

As if saying the name summoned the owner, the door opened. Out popped a thin man with grey hair and an age-lined face. A part of Harry wondered if Ollivanders just came out of the womb looking that way, or if it was just his luck that the ones he met weren’t quite in their prime.

Regardless, the man approached. His voice was less raspy and foreboding than his future relative. Harry could still vividly remember his first meeting with Garrick, and his proclamation of ‘terrible but great’ things done with his holly wand’s brother, “Salazar, I was hoping to see you again. It’s been nearly what… two years now?”

“Sounds about right, Gregor. I’ve been meaning to visit again, but time always gets away from me.”

“Oh hoe, doesn’t it just get away from us all.” He placed a hand on Salazar’s shoulder and pulled him in closer, “Now tell me, how is the new wand treating you? Everything worked out I hope.”

“It’s perfect. The hard work paid off; I assure you.”

“I’m happy to hear it. The crafting was no small feat of its own, but the acquiring of the materials…” Some passersby made him lean closer. He spoke so softly that even Harry could only barely hear him, “Snakewood must’ve been incredibly difficult to come by… but the horn of a basilisk is nearly unheard of.”

There were many reasons for that. The snakewood wasn’t native to Europe, far from it in fact. Which means that Slytherin either took an impressively long broom ride or managed to convince one of the Northmen to sail into the sea without knowing the destination. Harry really wasn’t sure which of those things was more likely.

As for the basilisk, the most prominent reason it was so rare was there were very few people both foolish enough to approach a fully grown basilisk and mad enough to then remove one of their horns. Though most people can’t speak parseltongue. There was also the pesky little fact that the breeding of basilisks was heavily frowned upon by the magical community. But it’s not illegal just yet, I imagine.

It suddenly made sense to Harry why Salazar was so adamant about getting his wand back. While most wands were one of one, his own current wand included, there were some that were more unique than others.

“And yet, I came by it.” Salazar responded evasively. That’s probably easier when you have one of your own hidden away somewhere. That thought was only supposition on Harry’s part, but considering how rare they were to come by, and that Harry met his pet when it was over a thousand years old, it was reasonable to assume he already found or bred his basilisk.  

“Should you ever acquire more, I’d be happy to pay you for it. It’s harder to come by a viable specimen of basilisk horn than it is a phoenix feather, and that really is saying something.”

“If I ever acquire more of it, I guarantee you’ll be the first to know.”

It was only than that Ollivander took notice of the fact that Salazar wasn’t alone, “And who is this? Perhaps another fine young wizard in need of a wand?”  

 “Sorry, but he’s not a customer, Gregor. He’s a job.” To punctuate the point, Harry raised his arms to show off his shackles.

“Ah,” The old man shuffled backwards slightly, “I suppose that explains what brings you back then. I won’t keep you any longer.” As he headed back toward the same narrow shop, he turned back though, “But should your quarry there find himself in need of the new wand, depending on how the Council is feeling… you know where to send him.”

“Every time, Gregor.” Salzar assured him before they were on their way once again.

Heading toward the center of the complex, they entered the main building and there, standing in the very center, some five meters tall, was a statue of Mithras slaying a bull. At the base of the statute there was a set of stairs with two guards flanking it on either side, as they neared the one on the left held up his hand, “State your business.” He had a gruff voice and a clean-shaven face. He stood in stark contrast to the one on the right because he was at least a head and a half taller. Looks about as lanky as Ron when he first went through his growth spurt though.

Salazar stepped around Harry and offered the men a smile, “Salazar Slytherin here to complete a bounty set by the Wizard’s Council, for one ‘Harry in the Highlands who led the war against King Causantin’. My understanding is that they deemed it ‘of the utmost importance’.”

The two guards looked Harry up and down. The one on the right was shorter, had crooked teeth and was missing part of his left ear. It looked as though something had taken a bite out of it. He spoke slowly, as though the process of thinking was an arduous task all on its own, “How do we know he is who you say he is?”

“Is Ecbert not around? My understanding is that he had a rather up close and personal encounter with the man not that long ago.” Apparently, the story had made its way around the magical community of London because both guards smirked.

The one on the left said, “Wait here,” before he headed down the stairs.

The one on the right just stared at him as the seconds ticked by before dumbly throwing out there, “You don’t look like the sort of man who could conquer a kingdom.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Have you seen many of those sorts of men? Even portraits or busts? Alexander the Great, maybe, or Julius Caesar?”

The man furrowed his brow at those names, “I… don’t know who those people are.”

“No, you don’t, nor do you know what they look like… so what makes you think you know what any conqueror would look like?”

“I…”

“Perhaps, it’s best if you simply stand there and look menacing.” Salzar suggested to the guard, “That is the point of a guard, is it not? Just leave the matter of thinking things to those better equipped for the job.”

The man thought about it for far longer than was necessary before nodding. He proceeded to stare forward, what he imagined but most certainly wasn’t, menacingly. Harry shared a look with Salazar, and the other man barely contained his amusement.

They were saved from another bout of stupidity by the arrival of Ecbert. His patchy beard looked no better now than it had the first time that Harry met him, “Yes, that’s him alright. Could you not apprehend both of them though?”

“It was difficult enough to get him. Unlike some wizards I’ve met in my life, he isn’t without skill.” Harry was rather confident that was a subtle dig at Ecbert, “There’s a reason I’m the only one that managed the task. If I’d needed to deal with both of them, I doubt I’d be here to tell you about it.”

 Ecbert considered it for a moment before nodding his head, “Understandable. I’ll take him the rest of the way.”

He made to grab for Harry’s shackles, but Salazar smacked his hand away, “No, no Ecbert. He’s my bounty and I intend to get the coin I was promised for him.”

The brownnoser scowled but Salazar’s reputation was formidable enough that he had the good sense not to argue, “Very well, I’ll take you to the bursar first and ensure that you get your compensation, and then I’ll take him before the Wizard’s Council.”

“Perfect.” He offered a winning smile.

“This way.” Salazar already knew the way on his own but followed the errand boy down into the temple’s belly. The building was immaculately kept, the smooth, meticulously laid stone reminded him of the corridor that led to the Department of Mysteries and the lowest courtrooms of the Ministry. Perhaps this was the inspiration behind their construction. The path was brightly lit as they went deeper.

As they descended, Ecbert tried to act nonchalant as he asked, “Salazar, you didn’t happen to find my wand when you apprehended him, did you?”

“No, Ecbert.” He replied, blithe and annoyed, “How would I have known it was yours even if I saw it? You’ve never been brave enough to raise your wand against me in a duel.”  

He stammered out his reply, as though the very thought of fighting Salazar was enough to cause panic within him, “Yes… well… that… that may be true, but I was merely hoping for a bit of good fortune.” The man turned and looked at Harry, it was filled with contempt and no small amount of self-satisfaction, “Perhaps I’ll take yours as my own instead. It seems a fair trade.”

“Something tells me that any wand of mine wouldn’t be a good fit for someone like you.”

“And why not?!” Ecbert’s voice broke as he screeched his indignation.

 “Wands have a will of their own… something tells me mine wouldn’t enjoy going from a conqueror to a coward.”

“We’ll see about that!” His raised voice echoed down the nearest corridor.

“Something tells me you know I’m right, because if my wand belongs to anyone after being beaten, it’s the person who won it from me. I think you’re just unable to afford a new one form Ollivander that might actually suit you, and you’re eager to find anything you can get your smarmy little hands on.” The man reddened in the face, and it was clear that Harry hit the nail on the head, “Shame, you’d think such an incessant toady would at least be well-paid for the trouble.”

“Why you… I am… you…” His fingers balled up into fists and he looked ready to use them.

“I believe it’s this way,” Salazar interrupted before Ecbert got the chance to do something he’d definitely regret, “I was under the impression that you’re in a hurry.”

He took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure. Shame, I was enjoying riling him up. Ecbert looked down the corridor, “You’re right. This way.”

They didn’t need to go very far. The first open entranceway on the left led to a simple room with a stumpy witch sitting behind a table counting coins, “Marian, I can confirm that Salazar complete the contract for one ‘Harry in the Highlands’.” As far as nicknames went, he could think of worse ones.

“Come on over then, my dear. I’ll have you sorted in no time.” The woman started rummaging through her papers looking for the correct contract.

“This is where I leave you then,” Salazar told him with a grin, “I’d say it was a pleasure, but you nearly pulled my entrails out so… actually that’s not the worst interaction I’ve had with somebody, so it was a pleasure.”

Harry shook his head, unable to believe this was really Salazar Slytherin. Still, there were appearances that needed to be kept up. Voice hard, intimidating as he could manage, “Just hope you never see my face again. If you do, it’ll be the last one that you ever see.”

“Your optimism is impressive, But I doubt you’ll be much trouble without this.” he waved a replica of his wand tauntingly as he sat down in the chair across from the bursar. He looked to Ecbert, “Be sure to hold onto those shackles for me. I’d rather not need to waste the coin on a new pair.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He pushed Harry in the back, “Move.” Returning to the stairs, they continued their descent.

When they reached the bottom there was only one path that led straight ahead. At the end, there was a large, banded blackwood door engraved with a large ‘M’ on the front. An old standby from when the temple was in Roman hands, it didn’t look entirely dissimilar to the insignia for the Ministry of Magic. There was a pair of guards at either side of the door. They opened it as Ecbert approached.

As they entered the room, Harry suddenly felt as though he was back in the summer before his fifth year. While much of the temple was reminiscent of the Ministry, the meeting place of the Wizard’s Council looked identical to Courtroom Ten, from the polished black stones all the way to the chair in the center of the room, complete with shackles to keep him in place. I’d wager that this is the very same room.

As far as Harry could tell, the biggest difference was there were far fewer witches and wizards gathered to pass judgement. Correction… just the one witch. I’m quite sure that is just a rather old and bent old man who hasn’t cut his hair in a few decades. He counted just twenty-one members in total. There were just four guards stationed around the room.

“Esteemed members of the Wizard’s Council, Salazar Slytherin successfully completed the open contract, and I present ‘Harry of the Highlands’.” Ecbert effused pushing Harry toward the chair before binding his feet. He didn’t bother changing the shackles on his wrist since they were already bound.

“Is there any word on the witch?” The man in the center of the room looked forty but was probably at least eighty given his magic. His hair was still chestnut brown and cut into a rather unfortunate-looking bowl cut. He had droopy eyes and distinctive jowls. Even from below them, it was obvious that he was slightly more rotund than the rest of the Council.

“Salazar informed me that it was difficult enough to apprehend one, both would’ve been impossible.”

“Given what we’ve heard of their exploits that seems reasonable, Eadgar.” The man sitting nearest to the now named Eadgar was clad all in black and had hair just as dark to match it. His eyes were a cutting grey that never left Harry even as he spoke with his colleague.

Eadgar didn’t look pleased, but he nodded his acceptance, “True. If Salazar alone brought him in, I suppose we’re lucky he managed to get either of them considering how many were interested in the job.”

“I’m afraid you have me at quite the disadvantage.” Harry interjected into their conversation and all eyes were firmly fixed on him, “You all seem to know who I am, but I haven’t the foggiest idea who any of you lot are.”

“We’re the Wizard’s Council, boy.” Eadgar was clearly offended, “We were told that you were informed of our summons and rudely refused. That is the very reason for your apprehension.”

“No, that I understand perfectly well.” He lazed back in the chair, “That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t know any of you. That none of you mean anything to me. Unless I missed something, I don’t recall myself or Rowena ever being consulted about a Wizard’s Council.”

Eadgar leaned over the bench, his lip curled in distaste, “Because you weren’t, no more so than the average peasant is consulted about who will rule them as king.”

“I think you’ll find that I was rather instrumental in the appointment of the most recently made king on this island, so you might want to rethink your wording.” His goading was working. There was a vein starting to pop out along Eadgar’s right temple.

Before he had the chance to explode, one of the other members tried to keep the peace, “It’s your involvement that worries us… as well as the stories that preceded it.”

It was the witch amongst them that commented. She was rather young, if she were a muggle she’d probably be in her early thirties, her sandy blonde hair was tied back in a braid. Her face was round, and she had a nose that was slightly too small for it, “And you are?”

“Emma of Avebury.” She replied politely.

“Well, Emma, I don’t see how my involvement, or any of my actions, are the business of yours, this council, or any magical on this island.”

Eadgar could no longer hold it in, “Because your direct intervention into muggle matters, particularly matters of sovereignty, go against every edict laid down by this council! It breaks decades of established tradition! And that’s to say nothing of your rumored destruction of a monastery.”

“If I recognized your authority, I might care about breaking your edicts.” Harry leaned forward, elbows placed on his knees, fingers steepled before him, “As it stands, I don’t.”

“Whether you recognize them or not, you are subject to them.” The man dressed all in black told him. He lacked the same enthusiasm as Eadgar though, “As you can see, we have ways of making you comply.” Harry had to resist the urge to snicker at that. They’re going to be sorely disappointed soon.

Emma sounded almost sympathetic as she told him, “Had you come here willingly, before making your war, you would’ve been given a warning and allowed to leave with your assurances that you would do whatever necessary to disband the army you built.” That was too much for Harry and he snorted out a laugh that was ignored, “But seeing as that is now impossible, there must be a punishment.”

“Once we get to the truth of the destruction of the monastery.” Eadgar pressed the point.

“Oh, it’s absolutely true.” Harry said happily, “I thought that was obvious.”

“You killed more than a dozen people in your massacre! Good men of the cloth!” If Harry thought that the man was angry before, he was a wrong. He pushed to his feet, and it was only then that he saw it. There on Eadgar’s chest, clear as day, was a crucifix.

The seething rage that came to him then exploded in his magic. It became palpable in the room, and the guards stepped forward with their wands raised. But Harry wasn’t going anywhere, not yet. Every word burned with a bitter fire as he stared into the Eadgar’s eyes, “Those ‘good men of the cloth’ were holding dozens of young magicals against their will and forcibly converting them to Christianity so that they could go on to fight the pagan… to convert them in turn.”

“Lies, slanderous lies!” Eadgar roared, “I’ll have your head on a pike by days end for what you did!”

“It’s the truth!” His roar sent Eadgar stumbling back into his seat, “And I tell you, it wasn’t the only one… not on this island and not across Europe.”

Eadgar found his courage and spat back, “I’m an Abbott of the Church, murderer. I’d know if such things took place!”

“Eadgar… these are serious allegations.” This was the first time this man spoke. Even sitting down, it was obvious he was tall. He had bright red hair, and more freckles on his face than Harry had seen on anyone but Ginny, “If there’s any truth to it, we need to know. It could be all the more reason for us to move forward with our planned edicts on secrecy.”

Harry’s laughter bordered on manic. It silenced everyone else in the room. When he spoke, his voice was filled with contempt, “Craven bastards… the lot of you. I only came here to hear what you had to say, and I find myself sorely disappointed.” A few of the members looked disconcerted as they realized exactly what he was implying, “I just told you that magical children are being tortured into servitude and your first thought is to hide away like rats.”  

“There are more Christians every day…” The ginger argued, “most magicals born today will be born into Christian families.”

“And that’s the fault of you and men like the Abbott over there.” Harry gestured, “Magic is power… and a gift from the gods. But weak people like you would rather we cower.”

“No, I’ll hear no more of this!” Eadgar pointed at him, “Guards, apprehend him! We’ll make a new ornament of him in due time.” There were others on the council who agreed, but just as many that looked skeptical.

A small flex of his magic was all it took to remove the shackles on his wrists. Even as he rubbed them, the ones on his ankles snapped free too. The guards’ reaction left something to be desired. The only spell that came his way was a stunner that splashed harmlessly against a shield before all four of them fell unconscious to the ground in a flurry of spells.

The tip of the Elder Wand glowed imperiously in his hand as twenty-one wands pointed in his direction. The dome that materialized between them shimmered gold. As spells washed over it, no sign of damage could be seen. Only an Unforgivable could break through it. He only knew with any certainty that the Killing Curse had been developed, though he didn't know if it had seen any widespread use, and he was prepared should it be thrown his way. Even his spells wouldn’t be able to pass through.

Which was why, he stood silent behind his fortification, waiting for calm. Eadgar fired a barrage of spells that beat impotently against it before he realized the futility. There were no sickly green or angry orange ones amongst them.

“Let this be a warning.” He didn’t yell, and yet his voice reverberated through every stone in the chamber, “Send whoever you like to try to stop me… it will do you no good. Harm those I care for, and you’ll live just long enough to regret it.”

His eye glowed an ominous green as he fixed his gaze on each of them in turn, “I refuse to hide away for anyone’s sake, least of all a bunch of self-important bureaucrats who think that their paltry power means something. I’ll liberate any magical taken captive by the Church as though they were my own blood. And should that lead to more war, then so be it.” He knew that more war would come whether he wanted it or not, “I’ll drag magicals into the light with bloody fingers if that’s what it takes.”

The silence that followed was palpable; you could almost hear the fearfully beating hearts of every council member. As the dome around him slowly began to dissolve, a soft ‘pop’ marked his disappearance. They all stared at the spot in stunned silence before the yelling finally started.

AN: The last part of this chapter might be one of my favorite things I've ever written.

Thanks for reading!