Godric Gryffindor stood proud beneath his father's gaze as he held up the small glumbumble to be examined. Lord Gideon Gryffindor frowned at the insect and stroked his short beard. Godric bit his lip and tried very hard to ignore his older brother snickering over his shoulder.

"Such a fearsome beast, Godric. I'm sure father would love to hang it in the Hall to show off your great prowess."

Godric glared at the little glumbumble, 'next time,' he thought, 'next time I'll get a chimera and show you.' Lord Gideon waved Gilford off, "It is good to know we have such insects upon our grounds, such is necessary for the kitchen staff to be aware of. And your brother is only nine years of age. He is not yet trained for the hunting of greater beasts. Patience, Godric."

Godric wilted slightly under his father's stern expression. Lord Gryffindor set his large hand on his small shoulder and squeezed lightly before the world flashed white.

The vaulted ceiling of the Hall was hung with mistletoe and the Yule log burned merrily in the great fireplace. The low rumble of drunken snores rolled through the enclosed space. Godric leaned back in his chair, staring out at the shadowed Hall. The flames of the log twisted and danced. He stared, entranced, by the shapes forming within the flames; dragons, chimera's, and phoenixes fought and danced and fell, then rose to begin their war again. His doubts whispered to him in the darkening night, and the flames pulled him in.

"Elena," Lord Gryffindor responded to a query Godric had not heard, "I dearly love each of my sons, but we do not have enough land to fairly divide it among them." Godric stopped at the door, halting the knock before it landed. "As eldest, Alfred is heir to the majority of my land, Gilford and Frederick will have enough to maintain their households and do well for themselves. Cedric has proven his worth as a knight. I'm just not certain what the best path is for Godric."

His mother's voice was faint behind the door, she had never been as loud as the boisterous Gryffindor boys. "He's shown great talent with his magic studies."

"Which is why I can't send him to the army or the church. So we tell him to be a wandering spell-caster? Our eldest boys are proficient, they don't need magical advisors and he's too much a warrior to fit in with the sages that sit and pontificate in court. I hesitate to ask him to stay with his brothers."

"No, though they love each other dearly, they would clash far too often, and I fear it would turn to malice eventually. Perhaps he could become a teacher, a tutor for other young magicals?"

Lord Gryffindor sighed, "He is my son, Elena, too much a warrior to settle down in such a fashion."

Godric stared at the closed door and absentmindedly slid his thumb along the pommel of the sword he'd received for his fifteenth birthday. He was now nearing seventeen, and had thought to seek advice on his career, but it seemed that even his parents didn't know where their youngest son fit into the world.

Grimmauld Place: 1995

BANG!

Ron Weasley attempted to pull his blanket up to his chin out of sheer reflex as his eyes snapped open to search for the source of the noise. Quickly determining that he was not the target of whatever the twins had just set off and that he wasn't actually using a blanket, he yawned and stretched his arms. Blinking groggily, he thumped off the old couch in the library and stared at the bookshelves with some confusion.

"Ron, are you alright?" Still disoriented from his abrupt awakening, he stared at Hermione for a moment before he recognized what was going on. "Er, yeah. Just, you know, taking a snooze." Hermione pursed her lips in a manner most disturbingly like Professor McGonagall before she huffed, "You were supposed to be looking through those brochures to see what type of career you might be interested in. Professor McGonagall will be discussing our career decisions with us this year so that we know which classes we need to take for the next few years and she will give us advice for talking to witches and wizards in those fields."

An odd sense of déjà vu had Ron blinking owlishly at Hermione again while she went on to talk about the possibility of continuing S.P.E.W. into the ministry itself, or doing some sort of research with the Department of Mysteries.

Glancing around quickly, he realized that Harry had somehow managed to get away from the career brochures sometime while he was out of it. "Right, well, maybe I just want to play Quidditch for the Chudley Cannons."

Merlin's pants! If she keeps that look on her face she's going to turn into McGonagall!

"Ron, you're not even on the Quidditch team." Seeing his expression, she hurriedly added, "Maybe you should try out this year. But you do need to think about what you want to do when we leave school, and I don't think Quidditch should necessarily be what you are relying on."

"Sure," he muttered, "Where'd Harry get to anyway?"

"Sirius came by and asked for assistance in pranking Fred and George."

"And they didn't wake me up?"

"Honestly, Ronald. I think Sirius was just trying to come up with a reason to talk to Harry without him getting worked up about anything."

"Oh." He sat back down and stared at the brochures, he wasn't sure what he wanted. He didn't want to do something his other brothers were doing, especially Percy. Auror, maybe? He didn't feel like he was particularly good at anything other than chess and he didn't think there were any well-paying career choices that required getting your best friend past giant chess sets.

"FILTH! MONGRELS! HALF-BREED MUTANTS!"

"SHUT UP HAG!"

A door slammed shut somewhere in the house and Harry walked into the library still rolling his eyes. "Professor Lupin just got back from guarding whatever weapon it is that they won't discuss."

And you're looking more stressed than ever, mate. But please don't take it out on us.

Harry sat down in on the couch and stared at the brochures for a minute before turning back to Ron, "Chess match?"

Ron grinned, "You're on."