A Founder's Lament

I left my friends, my only real family. My wife is dead, my son grown, a father himself. And I grow lonelier by the hour.

Salazar Slytherin sat in his study, alone and brooding, reflecting on his life. He had just had the first contact with his son that he had had in twenty years, since he had been told of the birth of his grandson. It was a letter notifying him that the young lad had married some Peverell girl. A noble choice, to be sure, but Salazar had no real interest anymore for such things.

True, he had left the school over disputes regarding the Mudbloods. He still felt that they could not be trusted, coming from the Muggles. How could Godric not see what he had seen? Muggles feared magic, and though they almost always misidentified magic and members of the magical community, were they to wise up they would become a right menace to the fledgling community of wizards.

Helga had been supportive of Godric, claiming that it would only be fair to take everyone. That was like her, and he had expected nothing less. Helga had always valued treating all equally, starting all with a clean slate wherever possible. Salazar, however, could not forgive or forget that easily. His family had suffered once at the hands of Muggles, and he knew what would happen if the Mudbloods chose to fight on behalf of their families.

Rowena had been more tolerable of his position. She understood his intention was not borne out of hate. He only intended to protect the world he knew and loved, and though Rowena felt differently in the end, he respected that she at least chose to take his suggestions seriously and give them proper thought.

Salazar longed to go back to Hogwarts, to rejoin his friends. However, he would not be welcome there. He recalled the words that reached his ears as he entered the forest, uttered by the man whom he had once called his best friend. "I will kill you if you return, Sal. I will not allow you to harm a single student here!"

Godric's words had stung, but Salazar knew that Gryffindor would be true to his word. There had been no correspondence in the years since, and Salazar had grown more and more withdrawn over time. He had not spoken in the tongue of snakes since his son left home, and he had not used magic during the last year.

How ironic that in my exile I should live as a Muggle when it was for my distrust of their children that I began my exile.

He would go back, just once. He would go to see the castle, to see the school once more. Picking his wand up from the dusty table near his bed where it had sat unused for a year, he turned on the spot, appearing within the bowels of the forest. The forest was eerily empty, not a sound made by any animal made its way to Salazar's ears.

Drawing his hood up to obscure his face, the Fourth Founder walked the long walk to the castle. He instinctively made his way toward the Great Hall, hearing the laughing voices of the students as they ate their lunches. He peered inside, seeing five tables. The four tables for students, each draped in the colours of a founder, were crowded with happy and eager children. Salazar's stomach gave a jolt, though, when he saw the High table.

There were only four chairs there, the same as there had been on the day he had departed. Godric sat on one end, next to Helga. Rowena sat after her, next to the empty chair that would otherwise be reserved for him. The silver chair had not moved and had not been filled by any new staff. It appeared to have been kept well, still polished as if its occupant were to return and reclaim it.

He gave another look to the table of the House that bore his name, seeing the happy students who considered themselves his legacy, though they had never seen the man they represented. He turned to leave, allowing the door to the Great Hall to close behind him. As he exited the castle, though, he felt two presences nearby.

"Salazar? Can it really be you? You have come to reconcile!" Helga began, beaming at the man she now looked at, the man who looked far older and far more haggard than he should have.

"Sal, it has been years. How have you been?" Rowena asked, laying a hand on the shoulder of her old friend.

Salazar Slytherin kept walking, not speaking a word, shrugging off Rowena's hand. She looked hurt that he would return her kind gesture with such callousness. He walked, reaching the edge of the forest when he heard a great, booming voice from the castle.

"Salazar, it appears that you have forgotten my words to you from the day you departed. I said that I would kill you if you ever set foot here again. I do not intend to break my word, old friend."

Salazar turned to see the man he had once considered a brother gazing fiercely back at him, fingering the hilt of his infernal sword. He sighed, bringing his hood back up.

"I was just leaving, Godric. Fear not, I see how happy you all are without me, and so I will just go off to die in peace. I will trouble you no longer. Just know that I had valid concerns. I do not wish to be remembered a bigot. I only ever thought of the safety of our people. I only wish that things had turned out differently. You do not know at all how I wish it could have been different."

With that, he returned to the forest and Disapparated back to his home. Setting down his wand, Salazar reclined in his favourite chair. He closed his eyes, thinking back to the meeting he had just had. They had all acted as he had expected, and were it not for Godric, he may well have chosen to return to the school. Salazar drifted off into sleep, never knowing that he would dream no longer, that he would never awaken again.