Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the Four Founders of Hogwarts, or any derivation/combination of the two. I wish I owned Salazar though...Green and Silver is an awesome color combination!

Of Hollows, Godrics, and Snarky Salazars

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There was silence, and all was still. Scorch marks were blazed on the ground, now the only remnants of the tyrant that had terrorized the inhabitants of the area only moments before. Two figures, one on his knees and the other standing, overlooked the majority of the damage which had been inflicted on the once joyous and bustling village—the place the fallen wizard had been raised. They had defeated the violent dragon only to have arrived too late to find any survivors, this fact lying heavily on the conscience of one Godric Gryffindor as he stared sorrowfully at the ground, immersed in thoughts of regrets and sadness…

"Sal--do you--," Godric took a shuddering breath unable to articulate his fears fully. Salazar stood directly between his line of sight of the smoldering and smoky ruins, having moved there unable to stand his friend's unwavering open-eyed stare. His back turned, and his forest green cloak whipping and billowing in the strengthening wind, and effective barrier between Godric and his nightmare come to life in this desolate atmosphere.

Godric knelt a ways away, still reeling from the sight of his childhood home totally decimated. The fact heavily compounded by the sight of the usually strong-willed and steadfast wizard crying, his tears streaking down his pallid face and disappearing into what seemed to be the beginnings of an auburn beard.

Salazar, though seemingly cold-hearted, could not help but try to rouse his friend out of his current depression, the opposite having been done many a time in earlier years.

"Don't be an idiot, Gryffindor." Replied Salazar tersely, "Your family are a bunch of muggle-loving twits." The aforementioned wizard stiffened at this jibe, his arms clenching at his sides. "And to have survived this long in this world with those beliefs shows they are hard to kill, trust me-"Salazar strode closer to his saddened companion, and then knelt in front of him so were eye to eye. Godric lifted his head, his blue eyes reflecting confusion as to why his friend's actions and words were so different, until his dark companion finished his seemingly abysmal pep-speech, "-you are one of them, are you not?"

Salazar stood, dusted off his dirtied robes and cloak, and extended a pale hand to Godric, knowing that the minute he ducked his head again, the tears he had been shedding had stopped, and his friend returned to his usual boisterous self yet again, as he noticed with the twitching, yet still unformed smile on his lips.

What he couldn't predict, or didn't predict was how happy he had made him as the surprised and agitated grunt he let out when his friend jumped up and hardily gave him a bear-hug, his booming laughter echoing across the ruins and remaining countryside, revealed--spooking the skeletal thestrals they had used to arrive there.

A moment passed while each reviewed the landscape, new thoughts preying on their minds, tempting to break the silence they had become immersed in. Strangely, Salazar was the first to break the solemn atmosphere, turning his head and steeping his long fingers as if in deep thought, by asking a question to further distract his friend from his inevitable foolish self-loathing; at not arriving in time to prevent the destruction.

"Just- just what will this place be named? It will be rebuilt in due time of course," He added smoothly when his blue-eyed companion yet again stiffened up at the mention of another change of his dear past. He took time to survey him with his calculating emerald green eyes, weighing his options, and then continued his proposal. "It is to be again christened in the wake of the total reconstruction, perhaps by you—you did save it, albeit late, from the dragon." At this Godric loosened his grip and shrugged, casually placing his ornery hat, which had been cursing (in very un-magical terms) for being left on the sooty ground, and straightening his tunic which had fallen into disarray some time ago.

Godric finally gained enough resolve to look Salazar again in the eye, and with a nod, he silently agreed, and after another moment pause with which he used to gather his voice and thoughts.

"I really don't know," he admitted softly, looking up to the smoky horizon, re-buckling his bloodstained (Salazar had once sniped that with his favorite color, scarlet red, there was no point in having a scabbard with which to prevent said stains from occurring) sword to his belt. "but—how about 'The Hollow'!" he remarked loudly, a familiar smirk stealing over his fair features, "I believe that this place should pay homage to the great and illustrious potions master's souless countenance; the one whom thought it clever to cast a sneezing jinx at a monstrous dragon, when said dragon was obviously of the fire-breathing variety!" he laughed, straightening his hat so it was crooked on his ginger-haired head, eliciting even more rude remarks from the article of wizarding wear.

In this remarkably long and thought out insult, Salazar could not help but feel a twinge of pleasure that his friend was happy again, yet could not withhold the need for revenge and protection of his ego that had erupted the moment Godric had uttered the jibe.

Sadly, for Godric—the brash and foolhardy wizard had forgotten just who had invented the act of criticism and humiliating degradation when he was barely out of the crib, and he was about to pay for his insolence, as Salazar Slytherin saw it, with a historical achievement. The home of a hero was soon to be born, but as Salazar was thinking after absentmindedly patting on a burnt patch of his green robes, his vengeance was going to be reaped, in more lasting way than most.

"I actually have a better suggestion in mind," said Salazar, his lip curling just a smidge, telling much about what Godric was about to experience in the next few moments. He brushed his hair away from his eyes, tucking a few stray strings of jet black hair behind his right ear, and took a few more moments with which to increase the suspense that his impatient friend was sure to experience. "We should name it after the "great" hero whom slayed this dragon," he gestured toward an unmoving and silent mound several leagues away (or so that was what Godric said after being called to recall the experience by one Rowena Ravenclaw for a book that was being written at the time). "I would at least think to include your name in the new title of this forsaken patch of—wait there is nothing here now is there?" He asked smugly, enjoying for a moment the clueless expression on one Gryffindor's face as he tried to decipher this abrupt change in mood, completely disregarding the hidden sneer towards his former home.

"So will you allow me the honor of presenting the name of this…place to the council of warlocks; after all, you are the most prominent person from this village—they have no choice in their code of honor but to allow you the right to rename this place?" Salazar finished, clearing his face of any suspicious behavior which was sure to give way to his plot.

Godric, not being as perceptive or skilled in the mind arts, both areas in which his friend was quite capable in, shook his head slowly and hesitantly, not sure just what he was agreeing with seeing as Salazar loved to twist the meanings or understandings of others to suit his own needs.

Emerald stared into azure, each trying to measure the other up, but Salazar strode quickly down the rather large hill as the other blinked, robes again billowing behind with the inlaid personalized spell Salazar tended to use when wanting to add a flair of drama to a situation, which was again added to by the background of the setting sun. Godric, dumbfounded, scrambled to catch up with his quick-footed companion, limping from a slight wound inflicted on him, its bandage a matching color with his newly fastened cloak; a deep bloody red.

"Just what will this name be!" Godric shouted, waving his sleeved arms wildly to try to attract the attention of the overly-satisfied Slytherin as his thin and robed figure grew smaller as it headed toward a nearby forest, and what seemed to be two skeletal horses harnessed at its edge.

Salazar paused, nearly having his frantic friend run into his back. He tapped his black-booted foot, placing a hand under his chin to mimic a large effort taken into thinking up a reply, this exact position taken up by his duller-minded friend on many a same occasion.

"I was thinking about adding 'Godric is' and dropping the 'The' in 'The Hollow'", he answered with all the mock seriousness he could muster. Godric, who had grown too flustered to think straight, could only stare on gaping at his amused comrade, who had by now began to climb up onto the back of the dark, spectral horse. He reigned the horse, pulling Godric out of his slowed thought process and eliciting a ghostly neigh from his thestral. He sighed as Godric scrambled to climb up on his horse, which resulted in several ungentlemanly terms due to the trouble presented by his wound, and opened a lazy jade eye to his edgy companion, whom was staring at him suspiciously as he took time to straighten his robes, which had obviously needed no straightening in the first place.

Once everything was settled, Salazar let across his face one of the smuggest, and content smirks (smiles being below him) that he had ever allowed to swathe his face. It was then that Godric began to wonder just what and how much chaos he had given his friend permission to reek.

He had faced many things in the course of his twenty-five years of existence: Manticores, Acromanantulas, Centaurs—but of all the creatures he had had to have faced, Salazar—Salazar Slytherin, was the one he feared above all else. Disregard the recently coined saying, 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned', he had too much respect for women to even compare them to the mighty wrath of the dark man.

Why didn't he wait until he got back to the others to ask Rowena before answering? Godric moaned, running a hand though his unruly hair (he had long since learned to ignore his hats commentary when he committed acts that disturbed it such as that) just thinking about it made him shudder.

"Godric's Hollow will be its name—Godric is Hollow is too much of a sentence to use as a name, don't you think?" Salazar said, not waiting for the reply to his abrupt retort to what he knew was boiling through his fcompanion's mind, "Though I believe the previous describes your intelligence quite accurately." he slipped in quickly to again, before whispering his destination into the ear of his gaunt mount and disappearing in a wisp and whirl of green air.

Godric sat open-mouthed, the only sound coming from around him coming from his vindictive hat which had caught on much faster than he. "What!" he roared, much like a lion, the very idiosyncrasy that had led to certain coat of arms. He spurred his thestral, causing it to buck wildly before he quickly roared his destination, intent on throttling the serpent who tricked him before he actually accomplished his act revenge. A whirl of red air disappeared with a low whistling sound.

Across the occasional patch of grass on the nearby plain echoed the enraged yell of a lion whose name would soon grace its presence with a name. This place would then grace the world with a legend. And this legend would grace the memories of these two wizards as their heirs, one knowing his heritage, and the other soon to lose his, would battle—mirroring the sad fate presented to the two comrades who long ago split and never returned to this place named and saved by both, again.

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"For were there such friends anywhere,
As Slytherin and Gryffindor?
Unless it was the second pair,
Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?"

-Sorting Hat, The Hogwarts

A/N- A Canada trip's boredom spawned this...I have nothing to day except that my mind seemed to be set at auto-pun at the time...

!R&R!The button is down there \/