Chapter 1: The Journey Begins
The sun was high in the sky on an unusually clear day as two men rode across the Scottish moors. To anyone who saw them, it was immediately apparent that they were noblemen, finely clad in deep red tunics, and fur cloaks held in place with bronze brooches.
The two appeared like night and day. One rode a bay horse, and had wild, long auburn hair. He was a well-built man who sat proud, and would have been intimidating if not for the obvious twinkle in his eye. His partner rode a midnight-black horse, which matched his own pitch-black hair which was kept short and neat. His countenance was firmly stern at all times, but at this moment, it was incredibly cross.
"This heat is ghastly, Godric!" called the dark-haired one to his companion. "Should we not give it a rest for now? The horses are going to keel over!"
"Not yet, Sally, we have to get to Glasgow before sundown, and we've still got a long way yet."
The dark-haired man, who would have cut off the head of anyone else who called him "Sally," halted his horse immediately. Godric carried on his gallop, oblivious.
"GODRIC!" he called out in a booming voice, and an audible crack that filled the air followed it.
The golden man halted his horse and turned to face his friend. "What do you mean by this Salazar?"
"We are not going to make it to Glasgow by sundown. Where did you get such an idea?"
"Thomas said—"
"Thomas is a drunken idiot who doesn't have his head on straight. We'll stop at the next inn," said Salazar simply, and urged his horse onwards.
The rode at a slower pace for a few moments, listening to the sounds of summer insects and a slow wind rustling through the heather.
"Salazar, why did you even come along? You're not the one being punished."
"Godric, as long as I have known you, you have been a trouble-maker. You are a clever and brave man, by all regards, but your genius will get you killed one day. I am here to make sure that does not happen."
Godric gave a thoughtful grunt in response, and they continued riding in silence once more.
"So it was Tilda who set you up to this?" he asked after some thought.
"If it will get you to stop asking, then yes, it was your housekeeper who set me up to this."
"I knew it," Godric said with a chuckle to himself. Even though he had been sent away as punishment for his "insufferable mischief, insolence, and unbearable immaturity," as his mother had said, which Tilda typically had to clean up after, the old housekeeper had always been protective of Godric.
He could readily admit that his crimes had gone too far this time. While duelling one of the local boys (who had called his sister a pig), Godric had irreversibly melted the family's stores of goblin treasures. This included a set of gold-tipped arrows charmed to strike true at any distance, a gold sceptre inlaid with a ruby the size of a grapefruit, a bronze statue that was said to have once been a real man who had run afoul of the goblin king, and innumerable curse tablets, figurines, and coins. His family had seen the puddles of molten metals, and immediately sent Godric away to "hone his magic," and "develop a sense of responsibility," and really just to get him and his disasters out of the house.
He had been surprised that Salazar had volunteered to come along. The two were as good as brothers, especially after Salazar's parents had been killed by dragonpox and he was adopted into the Gryffindor family, but he was far too fond of his creature comforts to pack them up and travel several days. This revelation that Tilda had been a part of convincing Salazar to accompany Godric made much more sense.
They reached a town within a few hours, nestled away in among a hills, facing a placid lake. A comfortable, two-floor building with a wooden sign saying "INNE" was the first building they saw as they rode into the town, and the two young men gratefully dismounted and stretched their sore limbs.
"Good day, sirs!" called out a rather pudgy and ragged man from the door. He was balding, and wore a stained grey shirt and baggy trousers. "Welcome to the Royglenn Inn! How may we be of service today?"
"We require food and board for the night, my good fellow!" replied Godric, all smiles and charm, as usual.
"Right you are, we've got that and more," replied the innkeeper. "My son Alfric will take care of your horses—" a lean teenager appeared, took hold of the reins, and led the horses to the stable before either Godric or Salazar could protest "—and my wife Mary will lead you to your rooms."
They followed the man into the building. It was humble inside, with three small square tables surrounded by chairs, and a fireplace at one end. A woman – presumably Mary – was standing at the foot of stairs which led up to a second floor. She looked much more clean than her husband, in light blue dress and crisp white apron which matched her white headdress. Secured to her hip was a distinctly sharp knife.
"Please, follow me," she said in a cool, calm voice. And she led the men up the stairs and down a hallway with four doors on each side. "Our rooms are small, but clean and well-kept. We don't have many guests right now, so you may have your choice. We will be serving dinner within the hour: you'll hear a bell when it's time." And with that, she departed.
They chose rooms adjacent to one another, and each found a small bed and a basin within. Godric filled the basin with water and washed the dirt of the road off. Then he knocked on Salazar's door.
"Come in," came the response.
He was laying on his back, eyes closed and hands folded on his chest.
"Want to go for a walk?" Godric asked jovially, grinning with a twinkle in his eye.
Salazar opened his eyes slowly and looked warily at his friend. "Whenever you say walk, nothing but trouble ever follows."
"It's a new town, nothing but excitement awaits us!"
"We've just ridden for eight hours. Nothing until we've eaten. Now let me sleep."
The bell rang downstairs. Salazar groaned, but no one was there to hear it. Godric was already down the stairs. When Salazar finally followed him to the main floor, he was seated at one of the tables, with a hot pot of stew steaming in the middle. Mary brought out two bowls and spoons, and a basket of bread, and another person following close behind her brought out two mugs of ale.
"And who might you be?" Godric asked.
A small girl appeared from behind Mary, wearing a worn-down old dress and a face covered with smudges. Her brown headdress was slightly askew, and a small red curl peeked out. "I—"
"She doesn't speak," said Mary, and brusquely guided the girl back into the kitchens.
"How strange," muttered Godric, before filling his bowl to the brim with stew.
Salazar had regarded the whole affair and felt a slight sense of curiosity, but shook it off immediately. It was not their business, nor would they be there long enough for it to become their business.
The food was good and hearty, and satisfied the hungry travellers. Much to Salazar's relief, Godric felt drowsy immediately after the meal, and decided to take a nap. Salazar took advantage of the peace and was soon drifting off into a slumber himself. It was some time later, when the deepest dark of night was upon them, that there was a knock at his door.
It creaked as it opened slowly, and a voice whispered, "Salazar? Are you awake? There's a problem."
AN: And so it begins! I've always wanted to know what the founders' story was, but it doesn't seem to be a thing that the divine JKR has in the works, so I've decided to write my own. We'll see how it goes :) Comments, questions, and critiques are, as with all stories, very welcome!