Well, here it is! The beginning of the sequel to Wolf-Child! I give you. . . The Founders! Woot!
I must say, big thank you to my little brother. He walked in here one night with some outrageous idea. I almost ignored him, like always, but then, something struck me about this idea. I started to question him. One thing led to another, and the idea was twisted into this story. He's kinda like a co-writer, helping me muchly. THANK YOU SPIBRO!
Don't own them! Never will either! But I'm still waiting for the letter saying Lord of the Rings is mine. It will come, someday, I'm sure of it!
Let's see, warnings? Tons. This is a deathfic. Actually, more like DEATHSfic. I will kill at least . . . 1, 2, 3, 4 . . .10. At least ten. In this story. Three are dead by the end of this first part; at least I talk about three dead.
And remember, the twins aren't dead. Nope, not dead.
Yet.
The Founders
The light from one flickering candle on a desk was all that illuminated the face of Godric Gryffindor. The weary wizard was curled up in a chair, glaring at a goblet of wine in front of him. How much had he already had? Too much, judging from the headache that was creeping up on him. Much too much. Above the unused fireplace, barely visible in the gloom, a picture of five people, three wizards and two witches, hung silently. All five stared at him, none of them even blinking. Godric bared his teeth and snarled at them, then downed the goblet. Why did he care what they thought? One of them, the plump witch, Helga Hufflepuff, was dead. The oldest wizard, Herdir Hogwarts, a bumbling fool with a brilliant mind was in a deathlike-trance. He had been ever since Helga's death. Rowena Ravenclaw, the dark, bewitching beauty, had distanced herself from the rest, locking herself in her study to pour over books and manuscripts. Salazar Slytherin, the mischievous fourth, had also become withdrawn, at least mentally. A shadow had darkened over his being, and he no longer cared for the pleasures he once did.
And what of the fifth? Godric Gryffindor himself? When the picture was painted, he had been in the prime of his life, grinning out at the world and daring it to challenge him. Now he was just a tired drunk. He cared little for anything, even the school he had somehow been elected head of, after Herdir no longer could hold that position.
The door burst open. In a flurry of indigo robes, Rowena dashed into the study. She pointed her wand at the fireplace. "Incendio!" she cried. Godric growled at her, rubbing his head.
"Must you be so loud and bright!?"
Rowena knelt by him, spreading parchments over the desk. "Godric, look! Ignore your hangover and just look! The rumors of possession, the growing strength of Grindelwald, the dark shadow always around Salazar!"
Godric squinted at the parchment, willing the spidery script to stay still. "So?"
Rowena shook her head in frustration. "Godric, please! Pay attention! Look!"
Godric stared cross-eyed at a sheet shoved in front of his face. "I'm looking, I'm looking! What am I supposed to see?"
"Salazar has been possessed! Godric, Grindelwald is controlling Salazar! Has been controlling Salazar! But recently, just now, can't you read the signs? Salazar is fighting it!"
"And I should care . . . why?" Everyone knew Godric and Salazar could barely tolerate each other. There had been a major falling out several years ago, when Salazar didn't have an alibi around the time of Helga's death. Salazar had ended up leaving the school, but returned at Rowena's pleading.
Rowena threw the paper aside and grabbed Godric's shoulders, forcing him to face her. "Godric, the Salazar Slytherin you know and hate isn't the real Salazar Slytherin! He's being possessed, controlled, by the Dark Wizard Grindelwald! Get it through your wine-addled head!"
"No need to be so grabby," Godric muttered, trying to stand without falling over.
"Salazar's in trouble, Godric! You must help him! You're the warrior among us, he needs you!"
"Righty-ho then, off I go. Where is he again?" Godric blinked owlishly at Rowena.
She threw her hands up in frustration, trying not to scream. "The dungeons, you buffoon! He's always in the dungeons! Now go!" Godric managed to make it out the door without falling. "Hurry!" she screamed, and he sped up to something that vaguely resembled a run. Once he was out of sight, Rowena sank into his chair with a sigh. Shuffling some papers around, she noticed something vital Godric had forgotten in her hurry to get him out the door. His wand.
Salazar staggered back, dropping to his knees as the curse hit him. Grindelwald stood before him, wreathed in shadow. "Do you surrender yet, my dear servant?"
"I will never surrender to you again!" Salazar spit a mouthful of blood at Grindelwald. The Dark Wizard's expression was one of pure fury.
"Foolish little wizard, you think you can defeat me?" Another curse hit Salazar, knocking him to the ground. Salazar's head hit the stone floor with a loud crack. As the world spun around him, he knew he wouldn't be getting up again, ever.
Just then the door flew open and Godric staggered in, more then a little drunk. "Salazar!" he cried, seeing his . . . friend? on the ground, bloody and bruised. He turned to Grindelwald with a cry of pure rage, lifting his wand hand . . . only to discover he had no wand. Salazar groaned, wondering when his brave colleague became so forgetful. Grindelwald laughed. Godric hit the ground as the killing curse washed over him, and Salazar's world faded to the sound of Grindelwald's maniacal laughter.
Suddenly, pain lanced through his body. Salazar writhed and twisted, screaming as unseen flames consumed him.
Many miles and centuries away, a young wizard woke up screaming at the sensation of flames killing him in his dreams.
~Spider