The cool drip of ice-cold water at the back of the cave splashed noisily into the frozen silence. Salazar fiddled with the long, thin wand that he twizzled to keep the keen, blue flame alive.

Salazar Slytherin was not an ordinary man; nor was he an ordinary wizard. He was a sorcerer of extreme power and a hermit of extreme wisdom, living in a time when non-magical folk were barbaric and uncivilised. It was a time before organised muggle civilisation in Britain; though the middle east and mediterranean flourished, the north was barbaric and brutal. No doubt some of the magical people were, too, but he dismissed that thought. He knew that not everyone was like him. He was a wizard of the purest blood, and not only that - he was a parselmouth. He was unique, a gem in a world that valued any cheap glass.

Salazar ran his fingers through his long, dark hair, ignoring the bitter frost. He could mingle with muggles if he had wanted to, but he preferred not to go near them. As for other magic users; he did not know. Only Godric Gryffindor - who lived in the south, foully enough, amongst muggles, or the beautiful Helga Hufflepuff. He pictured her curled, golden hair fluttering down her back when she laughed, skipping through summery glades when the winter was gone and the forests were green, a picture of innocence. And Rowena Ravenclaw. She was seldom seen, a shadow who passed into the light only every few years, each time more provocatively than the last. She always left an impression that she wanted to be followed but never said so; always did something that could be classed as seductive or just a stumble, like when she had bathed when it seemed she knew he was watching, glancing fleetingly at the spot in which he stood, covered by a strong disillusionment charm. Salazar shook his head, clearing it of these tempting images. At least, he thought, Rowena's sleaziness was counteracted by her wit and intelligence; Godric was too courteous to her.

Now his shining companion slithered up to him and he uttered soft breath to him. 'Rip,' he said, caressing the snake's scales. 'What brought you here?' The snake understood and twinned itself around his shoulders as a reply. Salazar smiled. Rip loved his company and slid inside his cloak against the cold of winter. The snake understood all the problems that Salazar confronted, hunted with Salazar when they needed rabbit, and was a better friend than any of the witches and wizards of the land. Rip slithered between the cloak and Salazar's doublet.

'I heard whispers,' Rip hissed. 'Whispers of . . . the others.' Salazar shook his head, but Rip continued. 'They come this way. Their magic can be felt.'

'Rip, these are foolish words . . .' But the viper slithered away, to the far corner of the cave. And he did not come back when Salazar called.


Rowena Ravenclaw smiled fully, and turned away from Godric Gryffindor. It was the first time that she had seen him in a year and his priorities were clearly chivalrous as always.

'You must be aware that Salazar will try to twist your mind, Rowena,' he said firmly. 'You know he . . . you know he values you.' Godric looked uneasily at her. She stared right back, her full lips parted. She stroked her hair thoughtfully, but Godric thought that there was something slightly attractive about that hair-stroke; the way her hands had moved over her full bust as she ran her fingers through her raven locks. He forced himself to look away from her.

'I know Salazar, Godric; you must also "be aware" that I am his equal,' she said calmly. 'Where's Helga?'

'Here.' Helga Hufflepuff was a vision of yellow innocence. 'I don't think that Salazar will like your plan, Rowena.'

'Salazar never likes anything,' Rowena retaliated. 'But if I persuade him . . .' She pulled out her wand and stroked it carefully.

'No,' Godric said sternly. 'You can't Imperio him.'

'I guess,' she sighed, sitting heavily on the carved chair. They were in Godric's home and it was much more welcoming than Salazar's - roaring (magical) fire, mead, and good company.

'There is always a chance he'll say yes,' Helga said in a small voice. Rowena looked at her.

'I never leave anything down to chance.'

'We should ask him,' Godric announced. 'We will ask him now.' With a flick of his wand, a silvery form vaporised in front of them. It was a lion, a creature that most had only dreamed of, and he whispered to it. Then it soared into the winter's mist.

'Now we'll disapparate. Helga, Rowena?' They both took an arm each and were sucked into the vortex.


Salazar saw Godric standing at the cave entrance before he heard the crack that signalled his arrival. 'My friend,' he said, inclining his head. 'Come in. And the Lady Helga, too . . .' Seeing Rowena, Salazar let his lip curl into a thin smile. 'Rowena Ravenclaw.'

'Salazar Slytherin,' she replied curtly. 'You've been living in poverty.' She looked at the muddy cave, which was really a hollowed out mound in the middle of the flat fens. Helga gave him a sad glance, and Gryffindor sighed.

'I have been living as I wish to.'

'I trust you recieved my patronus?' Godric said cautiously. Rowena pointed her wand at an empty spot on the floor and a roaring blue fire came to life. 'We have a proposition for you.'

'What would this proposition be?' Salazar sneered. He didn't trust Godric anymore than he trusted anyone else; that meant not at all. He was weary of this and it was the first time the four great sorcerers had met all together in three years. This plan had to be good or it was a waste of his time talking to them.

'So many talented wizards never even gain access to the materials to learn,' Rowena said smoothly. Salazar tried not to look too outraged.

'If they were so talented, they'd be able to get the stuff, though!'

'No,' Helga said gently. 'These include muggle-borns.'

Salazar was fuming now. 'Mudbloods? You -'

'Don't use that word,' Godric said quietly. 'They have just as much right to this as we purebloods do.'

'Yes,' Rowena continued. 'So we were thinking - the four of us could provide the means for this. We could start a school.'

'A school?'

'A place for them to come and learn to be civilized wizards and witches,' Godric added, looking around Slytherin's damp, cold cave and moving closer to the fire.

'It sounds reasonable,' Salazar said. 'But I will not teach mudbloods- I mean, muggle-borns. I shall take those only with cunning and purity to their blood.'

'I guess that I shall only take those who are brave and chivalrous,' Godric said, slapping his sheathed sword. 'The goblins made me this for my honour and I expect any true student of mine to be worthy of it.'

'Didn't you steal that from the goblins in the war?' Salazar said slyly.

'No,' Godric said firmly, biting his lip in an attempt to stop the blush that was creeping across his face. Rowena broke the awkward silence.

'If you are both going to be so particular, I must specify too. I shall only take those with wit and brains.' She adjusted her diadem, which was slipping slightly. Helga looked at the other three, helpless.

'I guess I shall have to take the rest, and teach them all I know,' she smiled feebly. The others laughed.

'Where will this school be?' Godric said practically.

'Here, in the fen,' Salazar said firmly. Helga protested.

'Why not in my valley?' But Godric shook his head.

'The moorland is best; winter does not hit so bitterly -'

'Stop arguing!' Rowena yelled over them. They stared up at her, and she cleared her throat. 'We shall build the school far from prying eyes. I suggest the mountains; Hogsmeade is the best place.'

'Hogsmeade? Why Hogsmeade?'

'Because it's an all-wizard settlement,' Rowena said matter-of-factly, putting her hands on her hips. 'And I live there,' she muttered.

'Very well,' Salazar sighed, looking up her tall figure. 'The north it'll be.'