Prologue: Voices
"I killed him... oh my God, I killed him, I didn't mean to...."
"It was an accident, you know that. The stupid fool provoked you-"
"There is no 'accident' about taking a life, Rowena! I just killed a man!"
"And if you hadn't, he would have killed you, and I don't think he'd have gone to pieces over doing it!"
"......."
"Don't you see? You were better than him, a better wizard, a better man! If anyone had it coming, he did, with his wretched-"
"Rowena... just... be quiet."
"Godric-"
"Quiet!"
"It'll all come right eventually, my dears. Have patience...."
"How can it? Not even the most powerful magic can bring someone back from the dead-"
"It doesn't need to, dear. Just be patient and let things mend themselves. Everything will be as it should."
"You and your patience! ...Helga, what have you got up your sleeve?"
"Why, nothing, dear. Nothing up my sleeve, but a few things down the road a ways... patience is always rewarded, Rowena dear."
"Oh, HAH!"
"... ... Salazar, why didn't you run? Why pick this time not to do the intelligent, logical thing and just leave? Now there'll be no more schemes and dreams for you, and where's the point of that? I don't understand... Salazar? Are you... punishing me?"
Chapter One: Falling Down the Well
*...punishing me?* Harry Potter jerked awake, reflexively looking around, still hearing confused echoes of the voice. He glanced around at the Hogwarts library. How had he managed to fall asleep in there? Especially without Madam Pince, the librarian, waking him up and sending him on his way?
He wished Ron and Hermione were there, so he could tell them about the bizarre dream he'd just had. It had seemed so real, so true, and yet... there was something wrong with it. But Ron and Hermione had gone home for the Christmas holidays; the only person left at Hogwarts that Harry knew was his archenemy Draco Malfoy, who had stayed for some unexplained reason. "And catch me telling *him* anything,' he said defiantly.
"Talking to yourself, Potter?" a cold, drawling voice asked from behind him. Harry spun around and out of his chair to face Draco Malfoy walking in from the doorway, where he'd been lounging for who knew how long. "First step to insanity, you know." He smiled unpleasantly. "And I'm sure napping in school libraries is on the list somewhere, too."
"Shut up, Malfoy!" Harry snapped. "What do you want?"
Malfoy put on an exaggeratedly innocent face. "We never talk...."
"Spit it out!"
The pale boy inclined his head arrogantly. "Now that everyone's gone... I was thinking we could finally get that duel I challenged you to out of the way."
"You were just trying to get me in trouble!" Harry began to sit back down. "It doesn't count as a real challenge!"
"Scared, Potter?" Malfoy sniggered. "I thought so."
"I'm not!"
"Prove it!" Malfoy crossed his arms with a cold little smile. "I'm challenging you now, Potter. In front of the blank portrait in the northernmost corridor. Be there, one hour." He turned and swaggered out. "Unless, of course, you're scared to face me without all your little friends."
After he'd gone, Harry slammed one fist into the heavy table. Was that why Malfoy had stayed behind? Just to fight? He could practically hear Hermione telling him Malfoy was only trying to get him into trouble and to just ignore him.
Of course, he didn't pay any attention, and like picking at a scab, he was wandering through the northern corridors looking for Malfoy's blank portrait. It was a dusty, deserted area. Abandoned, like no one remembered it was there. Furniture rested along the hallways, covered in dust, and the portraits were similarly coated, and hung with thick ropes of cobwebs. The people inside the portraits stared at Harry as though he were some strange beast they'd never seen before. None of them would give him a hint as to where the empty, in fact they all hid behind their frames or changed the subject when he asked them where to find it. "Like they're afraid...." he whispered to himself.
"Or like they don't know what you're talking about," Malfoy said from a wall. "None of them admit this one's even here."
Harry spun, ready to spit an angry response, but was struck by the enormous, empty portrait hanging on the wall above where Malfoy was standing; it was truly huge, suitable for a small group of people, painted life size, but there was nothing there but blank canvas. Malfoy, smiling mockingly, held his wand casually in one hand, and his black school robes, which he hadn't changed out of, brushed against the dusty wall. "You're late," the pale boy observed coolly.
"Got lost. You didn't give very good directions." Harry brought out his wand and dropped into a ready position. "Let's get this over with."
"Love to." Malfoy's voice was litle more than a whisper, and a cold light of anticipation made his pale eyes gleam. He slid off the wall into a smooth ready position. "I've been waiting for this, Potter...."
Harry nodded, watching the Slytherin boy carefully for signs of cheating. He wouldn't put it past Malfoy, that was for sure. While he wasn't about to admit it out loud, he'd been waiting for this, too. A straight-up fight between them, something both of them could look back on and remember, no matter who won. Harry nodded, the closest he'd come to bowing to Malfoy. "Three," he said softly.
Malfoy smiled, inclined his head sharply. "Two."
"One..."
Almost as one, both boys swung up their wands and cried, "*Expelliarmus!*" Both were thrown down opposite ends of the hallway, their wands flying out of their hands. The floor began to shake, and several portraits screamed as they were thrown off the wall into billowing clouds of dust.
Malfoy twisted to his feet and lunged for his wand. Harry noticed this and made a mad dive for his own wand. After about thirty seconds of hectic scrambling, they were facing each other again, trying to keep their balance on the heaving floor and surrounded by a veritable dust storm. "What did you do?" Malfoy hissed angrily.
"What do you mean, what did I do? What did you do? You chose this place!"
"I didn't do anything except try to disarm you, idiot!" Malfoy snapped.
"Same here!" Harry snarled back. "And-" Suddenly, the floor gave an even more violent heave and both boys were once again pitched to the floor. A sort of hollow groaning filled the corridor. "And that doesn't sound good," he finished.
"No, it doesn't," Malfoy said, startled for once into agreeing. "I suggest running."
At that moment, the floor opened up, and both boys began to fall. Just before he hit bottom and the world went black, Harry thought, "I don't think running's a possibility...."
Chapter 2: Four Houses
*...a possibility....* Godric Gryffindor shook his head, trying to clear it of a sudden wooziness, as though he'd hit his head on something. But that wasn't possible, he was standing on top of a hill, completely injury-free. A very special hill.
Helga Hufflepuff, a plump, motherly witch with her gray hair in a windswept bun on her head and dressed in bright yellow robes, gave him a quizzical look. "Godric, you look preoccupied. Is something wrong?"
"No..." He grinned boyishly, belying his nearly forty years of age. "But this place... this place! It has real possibility! Can't you just see a school here, far away from the Muggles?" His green eyes glowed excitedly at the prospect.
A thin, pale wizard stood nearby, stroking a snake. "I suppose if you truly enjoy roughing it, Godric. I still feel that somewhere a little more populated-"
"We've all heard your argument to establish the school in London, Salazar," a black-haired witch interrupted him. "And we're all sick of it. You yourself admitted the logic in being away from the general population, Muggle and otherwise-"
Salazar Slytherin gave the black-haired witch a cold stare. "Indeed, Rowena. And I also pointed out that the advantages of solitude have just as compelling disadvantages." His snake twined itself around one of his arms. "But I suppose this place is not too bad."
Godric laughed. "Listen to you two! Shelve that argument, would you? This place is perfect...."
Salazar gave the other the benefit of his cool stare. "Perfect it isn't," he said. "It's adequate, at best."
"Which from you is hysterical approval." Godric laughed again. "So, my friends... we decided a school is what we want." He spun in a circle, flinging his arms out to encompass everything. "And a school we shall have, where we will train young minds in the ways of magic and the meaning of courage-"
"Courage!" Salazar scoffed. "What's courage without intelligence? Suicide! It would be better to teach cunning, how to plan ahead, how to think-"
"Bah!" Godric responded cheerfully. "You speak with snakes so much you think like one, Slytherin."
The black-haired witch, Rowena, laughed. "You're both wrong. I agree with the need to be able to think, but scheming only leads to problems later when they fall apart. True wisdom and knowledge are far more inportant than either bravery or brains."
Helga giggled. "Aren't we being a little premature? The school isn't even built yet..."
"That's so you, Helga! Always patient, always steady! Whatever would we do without you?" Godric looked around, suddenly serious. "But still... it is a serious problem. How are we going to teach our students? We're all different, with different outlooks... and forcing anyone to comply to one standard would make us no better than Muggle Inquisitors...."
Rowena and Salazar nodded grimly, but said nothing. Neither of them know what to do, Godric realized. Suddenly, Helga trilled a laugh. "Oh, you all amaze me sometimes!"
Salazar frowned. "How so, Helga?"
"Why, there are four of us here, aren't there? And each of us prizes different qualities in a student. Godric, you favor courage, a good heart, and fighting spirit. Rowena, you like your students to be deep thinkers, wise and intelligent. Salazar, you love cunning and foresight, drive and ambition. And me... why, I will take patience and loyalty over all those things."
Rowena sighed. "Hammer our differences through our heads, Helga, why don't you? What's your point?"
"My point, dear, is that we can all teach our students our own way. Basic magic and such don't care how the professor acts, but if we could group like minds together, why-"
Godric grinned suddenly. "I get it! We each choose our own students to learn our way, and they all live together at this school and learn to deal with other views...."
Salazar shook his head. "That won't work."
"Why not?"
"Think about it, Gryffindor. We'll be training children! How will they know who they truly are at such an age? And if they don't truly know, how will we?"
Rowena nodded slowly. "He has a point, Godric. But I think they do know, somewhere... we just need something that can give them to the best one of us to help them learn and not be wrong...."
"I have it!" Godric brought out a beat-up wizard's hat, which garnered strange looks from his three friends. "A Consciousness Charm and a few information spells, and we have ourselves a Sorting Hat!"
Rowena gave the hat a probing look. "But it's so... old."
Helga nodded agreement. "It's definitely seen better days, dear. Maybe a new hat? Only I do like the idea of a Sorting Hat, you know-"
"That hat is fine with me," Salazar interrupted. "At least we'll know no one will try to steal it...."
"See?" Godric crowed. "He's on my side this time! But seriously... all this can be argued about later. I think we have a good working plan, and details can be worked out after the school's built." He looked around, expecting to hear an immediate protest from Salazar. An obssessive planner, Salazar Slytherin always wanted everything put in line and organized before taking action, and Godric's tendency towards letting the cards fall where they may irritated him no end.
But the thin wizard with the snake was nowhere to be seen. "Where'd that weasel get off to?" Rowena asked irritably. "I swear, if he wasn't your friend, Godric, I'd not put up with him-"
"He's all our friend," Godric interrupted firmly. "He'd not do anything to harm any of us. I'm sure he's just checking out the village nearby or something." He conjured a scroll of parchment, a quill, and an inkpot. "So... we're going to need a big place, with at least four towers..."
Rowena dropped the subject of Salazar Slytherin in favor of planning and said, "Five, one for Astronomy, too..."
"True. All right, at least five... let's stick some more on there if we've the inclination later. And of course, Salazar will pitch a fit unless Potions is taught in the basement...."
To be continued in Chapter 3: Written in Stone