The moon was low in the sky as Godric Gryffindor peered out of the high windows of the Great Hall, his green eyes reflecting the millions of pinpoint sized stars suspended in the ever-changing sea of blackness. With a slight sigh passing his barely parted lips, Godric turned and exited the now deserted Hall, his feet leading him methodically in the direction of his chambers while his mind reeled with the events that had occurred earlier that evening.
Godric Gryffindor walked with an easy going, carefree gait down the halls of Hogwarts, a bright smile stretching the skin of his face to its limits as he engaged Helga Hufflepuff in a jocular anecdote of his childhood, in which he and his brother had taken a trip to the northern fringes of Scotland.
"He was on his broom, flaunting the new speed of it after having experimented with a few different types of twigs, and charms." Godric paused to catch his breath, for he had been fighting with himself so as not to succumb to the hilarity of his story until he told his dear friend. "A-And so, there he was, just zipping by, happy as a Hippogriff, and then the shaft of the broom started humming. He didn't realize--"
Before Gryffindor could finish his tale, one that Hufflepuff had heard countless times before, each time varied in some slight way, the pair heard shouting ahead of them from the far end of the hall. A quizzical glance was shared between the two founders, for it was a heated match of raised voices from what they could tell. Shrugging, Helga levelled a glittering stare and charming smile upon her friend, "Do forgive me, Godric, but I forgot something in the Great Hall. I beg you tell the rest of your tale to me at some other time, though." And without waiting for a reply from the red-haired wizard, departed swiftly in the opposite direction.
Watching her back, perhaps a bit too closely and longer than a friend probably should, Gryffindor heard the shouting with but half a mind, until the witch who had been accompanying him turned the corner. Once she did, his full attention returned to the shouting, which at this point, seemed to have escalated in volume. Feeling the edge of annoyance against his patience, the "'Lion"' strode towards the source of the voices. With echoing footsteps, thankfully muffled by the pair of yelling voices, Godric approached a door slightly ajarthat he assumed was the origin of the soon-to-be hoarse voices. Creeping closer toward it, he listened.
"Fools, the lot of them, Welric!" A shadow moved across Godric's vision. 'Who's Welric?' he thought, nearly missing the next speaker's words.
"I know, Salazar, but give it a little more time, and it will be finished. Things will be how you intend them to be soon enough."
With a furrowed brow, Godric mulled over what he'd heard. What was intended to be what way?
"Things should be right now, Welric, you incompetent fool." The last of Salazar Slytherin's words were nearly a hiss, or perhaps they were. "Why am I surrounded by Muggle-lovers and overly arrogant know-it-alls?" he snarled.
'Of course,' thought Godric. 'Slytherin is on another one of his campaigns to persuade the rest of us to limit our knowledge to the "deserving" witches and wizards of pure-blood.' Shaking his head and sighing, he turned to confront his co-founder about his narrow views, for what he intended to be the last time. With a hand on the door, he pushed it open and walked cooling into the chamber, taking note of the blue, pale, and cold style of the fireplace and the chill in the air.
Rubbing his hands against his arms and breathing onto his quickly chilling palms, Godric smiled towards the back of his friend's balding head. "Bit cold out this time of year, don't you think, Salazar, to be holding conversations without a cosy, roaring fire and refreshments?" Removing his wand from the inside sleeve of his red and gold robe, he pointed it at the fireplace and conjured a warmth-casting fire in the hearth.
"That's better!" he smiled, folding his arms behind his back as Salazar turned around to regard the interloper with a cool gaze. "I couldn't help but overhear, I mean of course, with the way you were shouting, and naturally, my curiosity egged me forward to discover the source of the harsh voices. Perhaps you'd best cast a Silencing Charm next time you choose a usually-abandoned classroom for a private centre of entertainment."
Still smiling, and now rocking to-and-fro on the balls of his feet, Godric watched as Salazar slowly approached. Welric - who had been on the verge of speaking just as Godric entered - remained as still as a statue, yet his eyes swivelled about with a frightened glint in them.
"Perhaps it would be best, friend, if you learned to not give way to your astounding, yet irritating, curiosity. My discussion was of no concern to you."
Godric remained bubbly, with his seemingly cheerful attitude and his head cocked ever so slightly to the side while listening. "Ah, of course. I'm sure at first it was of no concern, until you dragged me into it. 'Muggle-lover', I believe is a way you have addressed me before, and, up until now, I have chosen to over-look it. After all, I cannot come to expect much from one so narrow-minded as you."
The wizards regarded each other for what seemed like ages, one brimming with silent fury, the other stoic regard, bordering on cautious. "I couldn't help but overhear the former pieces of your conversation, however. The part regarding your assumption things will be right soon; how they should be right now. Tell me, friend, what is it you plan to do?"
Salazar Slytherin's lips curled up ever so slightly as he watched his friend through fierce eyes. "There is no point explaining it to you, Godric. As I've always said, you are too stubborn to see, too blinded to notice, that our knowledge should only be passed on to the deserving. Those of an established pedigree of pure-blood."
Still smiling, Godric only regarded the man across from him with a raised brow. "Yet it is you who fails to see that our gifts, our knowledge, should not be hoarded, but passed on to all young witches and wizards who have the thirst to learn. You have never given me a reason as to why you feel this way; why only pure-blooded children should learn. I can only assume it is your narrow-mindedness again. You believe that pure-blood is better blood, and those lacking such should be subject to slavery by the hands of 'The Pure'?"Godric was unable to keep the heat from rising in his words towards the end of his speech. His façade of nonchalance was thrown aside and replaced by one of burning passion.
"That is the only reason, Godric. You have just said so yourself. Only 'The Pure' should have knowledge of such power, of how to control it." As Godric failed to keep the heat from his words, Salazar could not keep his enthusiasm in check. "Soon, my friend, my dream will be realized, and then the real learning can begin."
Turning to Welric, Salazar smiled wryly towards his accomplice before parting his thin lips to speak, though not in words Godric could understand, nor Welric. Despite all the tales Welric told Salazar, the founder was quite the Legilimens, and able to see past the lies the other wizard would havebelieved of his pure-blooded heritage. From the corner of his eye, Welric saw the flicker of something moving in the shadows that were cast by the roaring fire, and soon heard a slow rustling against the stone floor that seemed to move in time with the strange hisses coming from Salazar Slytherin.
Before Godric could react, a large serpent reared its head from the confines of the dark corner towards Welric, engulfing the wizard without need for a second try due to its sheer size. As if snapping from some horrible nightmare, Godric strode with purpose towards the black and green clad Slytherin, pushing him quickly against the rough, hand-hewn wall. "From what hell did you conjure that beast, Slytherin?" he shouted, his face nearly the same shade of red as his hair.
Despite being manhandled, the balding wizard in his grip only laughed in reply. "A Basilisk, my dear Godric. A giant serpent that only I can control. The means to the end of Muggle-born witches and wizards."
Quickly, while Godric was preoccupied in reigning in his temper, a wand was in Salazar Slytherin's hand in a flourish of silver and pointed at his opponent's chest. Godric was thrown roughly back by a silent charm.
"I knew a long while ago, that talking to you would be useless Godric. To the chamber." Salazar's words were split into coherent and hissing words as he strode over to the heap of red and gold.
Leaning down to stare into the stunned eyes of Godric Gryffindor, Slytherin's expression took on a modicum of regret, twinkling just at the fringes of his eyes. "It is a shame you could not understand my vision, friend. You've left me little choice. I take my leave of this castle forever; our cyclical argument of purebloods and Mudbloods has ended. One day, my heir will return to this castle that you can be sure of and my mission will be complete. Try as you might to assure the creature I've brought to this castle is captured, you will inevitably fail. The Basilisk will be the only vestige of myself I leave here."
In a billowing of black, Salazar Slytherin strode from the room which was now only occupied by Godric, for the snake had returned to the hidden chamber constructed by Slytherin, to lie in wait for its master's heir to return and call it to service once more.
Godric had strode to the door of his room, having been so engrossed in his musings and reflections he didn't realize it until he passed his door by several feet. With a sigh, he turned back around and entered his room, moving quickly to his wardrobe, more specifically, the hidden drawer at the bottom and pulling out a generous bottle of ale. Removing the stopper, and casting a quick glance to Fawkes the Phoenix, who had just flown in from wherever it is a Phoenix enjoys being alone. Raising the bottle in a salute to the bird, Godric started on short task of ridding the bottle of its contents.
"Tomorrow begins a new day," he said. "A new day with new fears that will haunt this school for thousands of years." The brave, red haired wizard gave his final words to the fiery bird before falling back into a deep, dreamless sleep.