Round #4

Characters: Helga, Rowena, Godric and Salazar (Merlin mentioned)

Genre: Friendship/Tragedy

Words: 2, 182

this story

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This story begins on a cold November night when things are dying…

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A oil lamp flickered as a carrige brushed past the pub on the outskirts of Lincolnshire. Two hooded women headed from the deserted roadside to the raucously noisy bar, light flooded from the slit windows and underneath the strangely small door.

"Come, Rowena," the shorter of the duo said. Her teeth chattering and her pale cheeks unusually flushed. "It's far too cold to continue any farther." Rowena sighed before conceding.

"I suppose you're right, Helga." She swept her hood from her face revealing her mussed-up braid and Helga followed suit. "I don't suppose Torriton will mind dreadfully if we arrive a little later than planned." She took a long stride, Helga took three shorter ones.

"Dear Rowena, Gregor shan't mind a bit about us being late, in fact," she laughed; "I'm sure he rather hopes for it!" Rowena shot her friend as sharp look which did absolutely nothing but make Helga burst into another fit. It was a sign of the sixteen year olds' friendship that Helga wasn't turned into a badger.

Rowena knocked smartly on the door, jumping back twice as fast as a rectangular peephole snapped open revealing a singular bulbous eye.

"Ye's be look'n fer a drink?" the voice warbled breathily. The eye blinked once.

"We's be look'n," began Helga swiftly, before pausing and frowning as she reviewed her speech; "We are looking for a place to stay."

"Com'n en," the door swung open. Rowena and Helga ducked beneath the frame and, still bent double followed the narrow corridor. It widened and soon after the miniature door slammed behind them, even Rowena only had to stoop slightly. Suddenly the passage opened up into a room, crowded and loud and brightly lit. A bar on the left side was being run by a ruddy-cheeked woman with wildly curled hair and a grin; her customers – instead of queuing – waved glasses, money and purses around the counter.

"Thank you," said Helga as a large hanger pulled her cloak from her shoulders. Another tugged Rowena's off, even unclipping the button. Good magic.

"You are very welcome," the response, made both Rowena and Helga jump and reach for their wands. Spinning around, Rowena saw two men sitting at a table – neither looked much at first – both were grinning. The one who had spoken first stood and held out his hand.

"Salazar Slytherin, at your service," he bowed, to Helga and secondly to Rowena, both of whom curtsied.

"And I am Godric Gryffindor," the red haired man nodded. "I would stand, but my leg is still recovering from the clawing it received this afternoon."

Salazar turned to him; "Could you stop going on about the dragon scratch? I rescued you. Remember that."

"Ah," Godric shook his head, patting Salazar's arm as he sat down; "but the ladies love a war hero."

"Was there a reason you spoke to us?" asked Rowena, courtesy stretched to its limits.

"Of course," Salazar gestured to the double seat across from Godric and himself. "We were wondering if you would like a seat, you look rather lost and Godric and I have spent the day fighting a dragon. We would like to talk to some people for a while."

"I chopped the dragon's tail off," agreed Godric, sweeping back his auburn hair. His green eyes flashed winningly.

Helga and Rowena exchanged hesitant looks, they had to get some rest for the next day's travelling but it would be nice to talk to some new - and by the sounds of it; interesting - people. Godric waved a bottle of Firewisky enticingly.

"Five minutes," said Salazar, he stared up at the women through thick eyelashes, pale grey irises sparkled.

Rowena sat down at the table – Helga did the same, untying her hair – and resting her chin on her hands said: "Five minutes only; we have a long journey ahead and need to sleep."

Godric waved a hand: "Of course, ladies. Now, your names?"

"Helga,"

"Rowena,"

"Such beautiful names," said Salazar, pretending to swoon into Godric's arms. He directed the next statement/question at Helga. "Norse, right?"

And five minutes turned to ten; to fifteen; to twenty; to the early hours of the mourning.

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…this story is the most important ever told…

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In an extreme state of discomfort Godric coughed quietly, making his company jump.

"Oh sorry," he said with an air of wry sarcasm, "it seems that we are lost, in Scotland I might add, in a forest overrun with wild beasties," Rowena patted Helga on the shoulder as the latter gave a huff of what might have been mistaken for contempt, had Godric not known Helga with incapable of such an emotion. "- As we found out only seconds ago, and we are trekking through the afore mentioned forest in the hopes of finding some sort of castle that none of us had even heard about until yesterday." Salazar gave an attempt at an awkward shuffle, but stopped when he bashed into all three of his friends and a small gnome which swore loudly up at them.

"Ye' 'ave alota bloody nerve!" the gnome thrust a thumbs-up sign at the quartet (and it may not have been the actual thumb digit that was up), before nipping Salazar's boot and hopping down a hole. There followed a brief pause where each of the soon to be founders glanced at each other in a bemused fashion and Godric recollected his thoughts.

"Anyway," attention returned to him. "We hadn't even thought about buying something like, I don't know a bloody castle, until we suddenly had." He motioned once again to Salazar with a sweeping hand gesture that very nearly took out Helga; she elbowed him in the ribs for his impertinence. "And then, we began our long, long journey here, through perilous swamps and dragon's dens, in a metaphorical way." He added hastily, "So of course, jump at my cough as it is most definitely the most frightening thing we've ever encountered!" Godric glared around at his three companions who were by now more than used to his sudden, passionate outbursts.

Salazar used a slight dagger to clean his nails and Helga remarked at how lovely the weather was. Rowena nodded absently, and Godric knew she was planning lessons, again.

"Are you quite done, Godric?" Asked Salazar after a moments silence as they waited, Godric included, seeing if any more words were forthcoming. Godric nodded curtly, Salazar drew his emerald encrusted dagger and cut them loose of the seventh or eighth trap they'd triggered that morning. The sixteen year olds' grumbled quietly to themselves and staggered from their grubby knees. Salazar had been right, this was a hare-brained idea and they had been walking for simply hours with no sign of the elusive castle.

If a castle could even be elusive…

Ah, well; thought Godric, these are my thoughts: elusive castles it is.

Then he looked up, stopped and blinked. Beside him, Salazar copied his motion and halted in more or less the same second, causing the women behind them to walk into their stationary bodies.

"Bloody hell, Rowena!" Salazar yelped as she gave a sharp jab to his back with her wand.

"Well, don't just stop then!" she retorted angrily, "Why did you stop anyway?" She and Helga peered around them and immediately fell silent.

"Ye Gods," Helga breathed, which just about summed up what Godric was feeling.

"Great Camelot," gasped Rowena, which also summed up what Godric was feeling.

"Flaming phoenixes," Salazar said in a manner of someone who had just seen a unicorn nesting on his roof. "That is a bloody big castle." Godric nodded his head silently, a huge turret towered over them, and another could clearly been seen at least several hundred metres away slightly to the left, through the clouds Godric could make out way above the other towers, one which seemed to never end.

Together, as if drawn in by a huge magnet, the four friends began to walk from the darkening forest. They would have created quite a view, had anyone been watching at the time, Helga with her simple knife, Godric with his golden sword, Salazar with his dagger and Rowena with her bow, they cut through the swaying long grasses, never taking their eyes from the growing building before them.

They were on the verge of something big. Something huge; and they all knew it. A historical event was taking place, one that would be painted and written and re-told over the hundreds of centuries to come.

The four Hogwarts founders: discovering their school.

What was left out of the history books and paintings and re-telling's was the short game of tag that the exhausted, hysterical and slightly malnourished sixteen year olds played on their way - that and the exuberant amount of swearing, cussing and all-round impoliteness.

Something's were better left untold.

As they reached the dark oaked door, they glanced at each other. As one, they tapped their wands against the lock whispering; "Alohomora" in unison, before placing their hands on the old wooden door. Old – being the key word. They pushed, the door creaked and excitement coursed through their veins, causing their hearts to beat faster than they had even done before.

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…this story ends in spring when things are growing…

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There was silence; heart in her mouth, Helga ran between Godric and Salazar. Both had their wands drawn and were breathing heavily. Helga shot a pleading glance at Rowena, but Rowena stood at the foot of a huge marble staircase, impassive. The child behind Godric snivelled quietly onto the cold floor.

"Stop!" shouted Helga, her voice carried and echoed around the hall, vibrating from the high ceiling. "Stop it!"

"Stay out of this, Helga," hissed Salazar, eyes narrowed as he tried to magically push her out of his line of fire.

"Yeah," said Godric. "Let me destroy this bastard."

Helga felt the pressure enclose around her, pushing from both directions. Collapsing to the floor, Helga looked once more up at Rowena who blinked once with her icy grey eyes, before turning deliberately and walking back up the stairs; her students followed swiftly.

"Move, Helga," Salazar, still hissing – his voice was so low and serpentine that Helga thought snakes would answer soon.

"No," Helga lay on the floor, face down; "you're best friends."

"Were best friends," corrected Godric. "He's betrayed us all."

"Godric!" gasped Helga before frantically staring up at Salazar who had frozen, wand grasped tightly in his clenched fist. "Salazar? Aren't you going to say anything?" Salazar opened his mouth; a choking noise, but no words came out. Helga gaped, "Salazar?"

"He can't deny it because it's true," said Godric, unsmiling. He took several steps towards Helga, keeling by her side and helping her to her unsteady feet. Godric kept his wand trained on Salazar.

"I sent Merlin to Camelot," said Salazar finally. "On the way there he was lighting a fire and he was spotted by muggles. He had just enough time to send me a patronus. When I arrived, he was barely breathing."

"You killed a man!" said Godric, he walked closer to Salazar so that Helga and the students in the halls were behind him. "Nothing you can say can make that better!"

"I healed Merlin and let him continue on his way – Prince Arthur will need him soon." Salazar took a shuddering breath, "I am not sorry for what I did – I saved Merlin's life – possibly the most important wizarding life ever. And I am not sorry for what I am about to do."

"And what might that be?" growled Godric but it seemed Salazar was not above answering cryptically.

"I've taught at this school for twenty years," said Salazar, eyes closed. "I have pushed aside my distrust of muggles enough to teach and protect their off-spring. But," Salazar spoke only to his feet and Helga had to lean to hear his words. "I think you have forgotten in this time, Godric, my old friend, just who killed my sister, Melissa."

Salazar had spoken the magic words; Godric screwed his eyes shut, features softening. Helga thought for a moment that things were going to be okay…

"Confringo!" cried Salazar, the wall behind him collapsed. Flames burst from the tip of wand, the force of the spell sending both Helga and Godric flying back, Helga watched in horror as the great barricade crumbled in an explosion of brittle bricks and marble. The rock rained down upon the heads of the hundreds of children, there was screaming and… and… Helga vaguely heard Salazar shout, mixing Parseltongue with English:

"Await my heir, King!"

Helga grasped for her head, her hand came away stained red. She was going to faint, Helga could tell from the blackness gnawing at the edge of her vision.

"Protego Totalum," sighed Helga, a silvery shield formed over the pupils and, wand slipping from her vision Helga let her eyes shut. The last thing she heard was Godric yelling.

"GET OUT! GET OUT AND NEVER COME BACK!"

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…this story starts with four and ends with three.

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Fin

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