Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
Summary: Salazar leaves, and history is not the only one affected. There's a reason Gryffindor's line didn't continue.
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They are quarrelling again.
Ymme know that covering her ears will do nothing, but still she does it.
''You self-important bastard, do you even hear the words you speak? What madness possessed you to send the boy away?''
It does not help.
''They are my students and I can well do what I please with them! What madness possessed you to question my authority on this? It's been years, and still you persist in shadowing my every step as if I were a babe in need of guidance—''
She can still hear them.
''—acting like a child! Spoilt, and reckless! The boy did wrong, aye, but we fixed it easily, and no damage remained from—and even if it did! Even if it did, you do not get to decide who leaves and why! This is a matter for—''
They quarrel all the time now, ceaselessly. Mother tells her they'll settle eventually, and yet every morning Ymme wakes to find another sulking silence, another freezing wall between her father and uncle.
''Me! It is a matter of my own personal decision, the boy was mine own student, he slept in my House, I taught him how to hold his wand when first he came! My decision, Godric, as it was my decision he come in the first place!''
With every argument that gets out of control, every insult that cuts too deep, their friendship cracks in more places. Already it is a tattered thing, held together with little more than despair and the memory of better times. With every fight, Ymme's own future seems more and more bleak.
''This! This is where you're wrong! Tis a decision to be made by all of us, as co-founders, as friends—or would you have me declare you a fiend and send you away?''
If only the fighting didn't affect her life so keenly.
''Send me away…? Is that how you think of it? That I am a servant to be booted from my home at the mercy of your whims?! I built this fort with mine own hands—''
''You barely lifted a stone, too highborn to work with the rest of us peasants—''
''—my magic, Godric, and who are you to speak of peasants when you yourself were knighted and given lands? I'll not allow you to send me from my home!''
Dunstan promised her that he would not follow in his father's footsteps. Yet she could see how he clenched his jaw when her father was near. Ymme prays every night that he would choose her over his father, but she holds little hope. For all that Dunstan loves her, she shares no blood with him.
''These lands! I was given these lands, upon which we stand right now! Tis my every right to send you from them should you—''
''Step out of line?''
Ymme holds her breath. Something in her whispers: this is history, this is the world veering off course, listen, stupid girl…
''Salazar—''
''No need, Godric. We are leaving.''
''We? Salazar, you can't—''
''He is my son—''
''He is betrothed to Ymme!''
She waits, but already her heart knows what will happen next.
''…As if I'd let a son of mine marry any daughter of yours.''
The world crystallizes to a single, sharp point, and Ymme wants to shatter so badly. But she can't, she expected this to happen, she knew this was coming two summers past when first father and uncle didn't burst into laughter after coming to blows.
Even if you'll never be mine, Dunstan, I'll only ever be yours. I swear it.