Pale in the Shadows

Part I Magick in the Air – Prologue

Author's Note: There's no point in my hashing out that this is copyrighted to someone else because it's fan fiction, so I think that's obvious. In order to work on world building, I decided to write my own version of Harry Potter. The nice part about fan fiction is the characters are already there for me and the base concept is there, I just have to tweak it to my match my mind's eye. Pale in the Shadows is broken into four parts and somewhat follows Philosopher's Stone; however, there are obvious differences. Each part will begin with a prologue about some point and time for the founders. Thank you and please enjoy Pale in the Shadows.

Warnings: I will try and post any warnings of homosexual natures, heterosexual fruits, cumquats, boogers, and curses before chapters to help you equip yourselves and skip things that may blind your eyes upon visual acceptance.


The horse she straddled whickered as a harsh wind blew past, his nose blowing out misty white in the moonlight. Her clothes shielded her from much of the chill; however, she pulled out a wooden stick no longer than her forearm and muttered a warming incantation allowing for the air to gently warm around them; she could feel the animal ease beneath her in the blanket of gentle heat. With a sigh, the woman lazily looked about her as she waited in the circle of barren trees, the winter frost glazing the refuse in shattered crystal.

'Helga.' With a sound much like a rock plunking into a lake, a man materialized in a ripple of grey. He was tall and broad shouldered, imposing in a fur cloak that draped over leathers died brown and black. Icy green eyes shown in the moonlight, wild and fierce. 'Why have you called me here in the dead of night?' The wind whipped his silver hair about his face, the bone beads tied into braids clacking against each other.

'You very well know why I summoned you,' Helga chided as she wrapped the reigns around her hands, sliding from the beast to the frozen ground. 'Come back home.'

Wrapping his arms about his torso, the older man laughed richly into the night. 'Come home? And what? Have Godric continue his preaching? Have him continue to slander me in the name of his belief?'

With a sigh, the woman scuffed at the earth, looking at the mottled rotten leaves with deep thought. 'You know as well as I do that man doesn't always think before he leaps; however, Hogwarts is just as much yours as it is his. We four founded it together when we were at our lowest—you and I especially have reason to call it home since we fled the mainland. Do not let him strip that which is most important from you.'

'Just as much mine as his?' Salazar gave a snort, his eyes sorrow-filled as he shook his head. 'No, that man does not comprehend my thinking and in turn he is causing an uproar in the school. He who believes that all who can perform magick should be taught despite the dirty blood of some? A man who believes that the wild magicks of the earth and heavens should be ignored? I care not for what his house allows in it; however, in my house I exclusively wish to keep tradition of purest form. Godric, though, claims I am too unbendable because I refuse the mudbloods into my house; however, my choice is exclusively with wild magicks because I wish not tame that which should never be caged. Hogwarts will be better off without two extremely powerful wizards butting heads, thus I have made arrangements for my house, and I shall see to it that the pureblood families are guarded if possible.'

'I understand both of your wills; however, I wish you would reconsider,' Helga said, rubbing at her nose with gloved fingers. '. I feel like you're leaving me, your friend. Even though I have Rowena and Godric, it is not the same as talking to one I have gone through the worst and stood strong against.'

Salazar stepped forward, hugging Helga in a tight embrace. 'You are a dear soul I admire. Never once have I considered you less being half-blood. I just wish Godric and Rowena would see we can unite our worlds by showing this diverseness versus merging and melding so tightly. A pureblood is not the same as a muggle-born and we cannot teach them thus.' He pulled back, a sad smile marring his face. 'You, Helga, are the soul and spirit of that which we wanted. You will keep Hogwarts alive.' With that he turned, leaving Helga, tears slowly falling down her rosy cheeks—and disappeared into the winter's night.