The Snake and the Lion

I meant to have this published on Christmas then New Years but I couldn't get to a computer so I had to wait till I went back to school. So here it is.

Though I did not mean to, this is inspired by 'Tales of the Founders' by Isilarma. I suggest you go read her stories. They are really good. I could never hope to outmatch her stories in a million years. Seriously, they are brilliant. As they say, imitation is the greatest form of flattery. Speaking of which, if you are reading this, Isilarma, I love your stories. They are so great. Please make another one-shot for 'Tales of the Founders'. I love them sooooo much. Oh, and I also love 'Strange Visitors From another Century'. Best Golden Trio meeting the Founders story I have ever read. Seriously, all of you should read it.

Anyway, this is my New Years present to all my followers and fans. I live only to serve.

Summary: The first meeting of Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor. The deadly beginning of their famous relationship. Salazar is 12 and Godric is 17.

I am not sure how much wizard money actually equals to regular money so I am going to compare it to U.S. currency. Please remember this because this is the only place I am putting this for all of my Founders.

Galleon-$10

Sickles-$1

Knuts-10 cents

Year-954 November

Salazar hated this. The part of his that forced him into the blistering cold in the middle of the winter. But, by his Master's order, here he was. The dark forest surrounding the village was not a pleasant place to be. The trees were close in distance to those it neighbored making easy for ambush and, had he not learned quickly, the place was easy to get lost in.

The hand holding the woven basket full of herbs shook from the cold. Though it had yet to snow, the cold easily permeated through his only layer of clothing. The day was young still and whatever warmth the sun still gave, Salazar was thankful for. Though it was hard, try as he might, to oppose the umbrage caused by the trees.

When Salazar was satisfied with the collection of plants, he turned back the way he came, continuing on to the small village. He would need to stop by the Apothecary to collect the last of what his Master needs. Though he did not complain. It gave him a chance to have some peace from whatever punishment the man could come up with next. He still felt the stinging from the curse earlier that day.

The town was not a big one and far out of the way that visitors were few and far between. But that is why his Master liked the place so much. Any Dark Wizards would kill for a place like this. And most of the time, that is just what his Master did. The people of the village were far too scared to go for help and any that did never made it far.

Of course, the Dark Wizard never ventured far from his old stone hut now that he acquired an apprentice, fit and able to do the man's work for him. The village was half an hour's walk from the Dark Wizard's home and so there was little to no interaction between them and his Master. But the villagers were still wary of the boy who ventured in to do his Master's bidding. Salazar did not mind. He liked the distance they put between them and him.

The Village itself was not rundown or dank as he had first assumed it would be when he came searching for this man some months ago. The village was kept in proper order. When buildings feel apart, they were quickly renewed. It was, that Salazar knew of, one of the only places governed over by a Dark Wizard that did in fact not look like a place governed over by a Dark Wizard.

It was almost always obvious when a Dark Wizard lived about an area. The land itself would become saturated with Dark Magic, the surrounding area dead of all plants, along with the village or town being too frightened to even step outside their own homes, let alone keep the town in order. Dark Wizards enjoyed the destruction. But for some reason, his current Master did not.

Salazar did find it odd but he knew most indefinitely that his Master was a true Dark Wizard. Only on occasion did his Master come to the village but when he did, there was sure to be death and several store fronts and homes taking the brunt of it. He understood then. If his Master were to come and destroy the village, there would be nothing left. His Master's affinity for explosions was strong. Had he not the skill to control himself, not a single stone would be left.

Salazar was not certain how his teacher came upon such power, but it was a wonder he could control himself at all with such fire in his veins.

The village buildings were mostly made of wood, some partially of stone. With the abundance of wood, it was easier to build with the plentiful material. Unlike his Master's home, made of which completely by stone. It would not have bothered him if it was not his duty to repair any and all damage wrought on the home.

The street, as he walked on and all others, were dirt, the grass having long been stamped out. The grass that did grow was more along the line of weeds. The village was small enough that there was no need for carts or pulled carriages but still big enough several dozen stores for a wide range of variety. It was enough so that supplies would arrive from villages and towns farther out every few months.

Salazar was aware of the dangers this could bring and was sure his Master did as well, it was the only way for rare plants for spells and potions to be available. But his Master was confident in his power to beat any wondering Dark Wizard hunters and the selective wizard playing hero. Such a display had only

As he entered the Village most ignored him opting to hurry in the opposite direction. Salazar barely noticed as he journeyed to his destination. The Apothecary was a dry place, warm as well thankfully, for the plants and herbs sakes. The place was mostly unused, the villagers only coming for food seasonings and medicine. But it was empty at the moment other than the shop keeper. It was always cleared out when he or his Master entered the town.

The keeper smiled uneasily at him, "Good eve, young sir."

Salazar nodded to the man, "I require the usual." searching around the room, "And several more."

The shop keeper hurried to fulfill his duties, collecting the usual order along with the extra supplies Salazar listed off. When the requested herbs, newt eyes, cat liver, and claws of a salamander were secured in his basket, he paid the owner and went on his way.

Of course, to his ever growing luck, the first few second out of the store and he collides with a passing bystander. The man's, and it could only be a man's, height and broadness outmatched his own and he fell to the dirt.

"Ah, my apologies, boy!" The voice was deep and proud, the light tone betraying just how often this must happen, "You came out of nowhere."

Salazar looked up and the first thing that caught his eye was the bright red hair, almost blindingly so. His clothing was expensive; though warn out with ware and travel, made from some material Salazar did not know along with leather. Overtop, was a fur coat of some sort, perhaps bear. His boots were something to be jealous of, made from fine leather, both comfortable and would last for many long years of travel. The sword at his waste was large, ordained with such beautiful gems and the silver was polished, shining with such blinding vigor that Salazar did not dare look at the weapon for more than several seconds. Most likely an intrinsic sword, past down for many generations.

"Then perhaps you should watch where you step." Salazar hissed, sneering at the man though the red haired man's smile did not waver.

Salazar climbed to his feet, brushing himself off then retrieving his basket from where it landed, "I meant no disrespect."

"Though failing horribly." Salazar drawled as he turned away from the man and went on his way.

Godric was in high spirits as he entered the town, hidden by miles of dark woods. It had taken him the whole of three days to be greeted by his destination. The town was as old fashioned as it could get. His first stop would be the pub to procure board and food. It was easy enough to spot as it was one of the first buildings into town.

The place was a musty one and it gave little hope for a clean room. He forewent the tables half full with dinners, greeting the bar maids as he went, choosing the bar for his perch. It was the cleanest thing in the pub. Mind though, it was also covered in stains of various colors and several spot that did not seem so dry.

The bar man came over, a weighty man he was, "What can I get you, new comer?"

"Your finest ale." The man gave him a suspicious look, "You need not fear. I am a paying patron. Tell me, I have been hearing rumors of late on this town."

As his ale was fetched, the bar keep gave him a tense look, "And what rumors are those?"

Godric smiled, "Of a Dark Wizard."

"If you're looking for trouble, then I suggest you leave. You'll be dead before the day is out if you go searching for danger." The bar keep said and it would seem Godric had his answer, "I've never seen a one come back who was foolish enough to go after the man to begin with. You, lad, are no different. I've seen men older than you, more experienced, carted back in pieces."

Godric nodded, sipping at his drink, his smile still on his face as the man left to tend to other patrons. He noticed the two men to either side of him failing to look in his direction. Godric shook his head. The town's people never did warm up till the Dark Wizard was dead.

"Bar keep!" Godric called out, "A room for the night."

The man nodded to him, taking a key from the far wall, "Eight Galleons along with the four Sickles you owe for the ale, sir. I expect the money upfront if your intent is to go after that sorcerer."

Godric had a devilish smile and laughed as he paid the man, taking his key, "You are a smart man. It is a good life to follow. Have no worry. I have never let a debt go unpaid." He stood then, "Tell me, is there any here who has information on this sorcerer? Do not be so wary. I will give no one your name."

"You could stop by the Apothecary." It was not the bar man who spoke but the man to Godric's right, "A young boy frequents the place. A small lad, thin he is. He doesn't stay in the village but he comes by often enough. It was a few months ago, he came. Once he did, the sorcerer stopped coming. He visits the Apothecary every few days."

The man to his left then spoke, "Do yah wan' him ta die? I tell yah, talkin' ta tha lad's a bad idea. He can do things, terrible things wit' his mind."

"Why the Hell should you care? He ain't yer problem." The man to his right said, "If he wants to die then let him."

Godric laughs heartedly, "I thank you for your confidence. I will see what this Apothecary owner knows of this sorcerer."

He stood from his stool, giving his farewells to the other two patrons along with the bar tender. The air was brisk and biting as he left the pub. He secured his bear skin cloak against his shoulders, making certain to cover his family crest. No good for this Dark Wizard to be forewarned of his arrival before necessary.

As he walked, he realized he had no clue where he would find this Apothecary. There was no need to dwell on this though as his travel through the town was most invigorating. Godric could admit that he loved wondering aimlessly. It was one of his stronger reasons for traveling; only second to that of hunting Dark Wizards or course. Third if he were to count being far separated from that of his parents.

As his musings continued, he missed the young boy stepping from a store front. Only until he and the boy collided did he realize such. Unlike himself, the boy fell to the ground. Godric looked down at the boy in shock. He noticed the dark silver of his eyes, glaring up at him, barely covered by the mop of black hair, reaching past his neck. The second thing he noticed was how small this boy was and his dull green shirt and tattered gray slacks. The Gossamer clothing was terribly thin for the budding cold of the coming season.

He quickly overcame his shock, "Ah, my apologies, boy! You came out of nowhere."

He noticed the boy glancing down at his sword then back up to him, His eye narrowed, a Vitriolic sneer taking the place of his features, "Then perhaps you should watch where you step."

The sangfroid way this boy carried himself was impressive considering his stature and poor appearance. Godric's smile broadened at this. It always amazed him at the pride a child could hold himself with. The boy raised himself slowly from the ground, dusting himself off. He retrieved a basket lying at his side on the ground. He did a quick inspection with unhidden distaste obviously directed towards him.

Godric spoke again, hoping to put the boy at rest, "I meant no disrespect."

"Though failing horribly." The boy answered easily, distain dripping from his words, turning away from him and moving on with more grace than any other child Godric had seen in many years.

He raised an eyebrow at the retreating boy, though it seemed more like he had lost one of the many arguments he used had with his father. Godric shook his head, taking a shallow breath. He looked to his side to the store the boy came from, looking to the wooden sign above the door.

Apothecary

"What are the odds?" Godric wondered aloud and stepped into the empty building.

The man towards the far wall jumped at the ding of the bell, spinning to face him. His body visibly untensed, "Do forgive me, good sir."

"No need." Godric said as the man heads behind his counter and Godric in front, "I come seeking information. I heard this place was as good a place to start."

"Of course, sir. How may I help?" He said with a smile.

Godric gave the place a look as he spoke, "I am in need of information on this mysterious man living far out from the village."

The man's smile became strained and Godric noticed the way that smile slowly slipped till it was a grim line, "I am afraid I cannot help you."

Godric looked to the door then back, "Then perhaps a boy that frequents here. I heard he comes often enough. Was the lad who just left him?"

The Apothecarian cleared his throat, "Y-Yes. But don't get any ideas about sharing your information."

"I understand. Can you tell me where this boy lives?"

"I don't know for sure, but he leaves town as the sun sets, towards the west."

Godric nodded, "Thank you, my friend. Know your name shall be guarded."

It was not that hard to soon find the boy's trail once he left the village perimeter. The light was still enough to see by. The tracks were many from the boy's many trips to and from town. He was not in any rush. If the boy truly was an apprentice to the Dark Wizard, it was better to not run into the boy before he could challenge the lad's Master.

And soon enough, he saw the small hut of stone and rock. It was a dark place, the once meadow it sat in was now just dust and mud. He could tell from the open shutters there was a fire lit.

Godric did not immediately trespass. He circled the clearing, searching the Wards and power of the enchantments placed upon the place. He had learned early on in his travels to never go head first into an unknown fortress of a Dark Wizard. If Godric was to do this right, he would need to take down all Wards and spells at once. He took out his wand. Though he was proficient, exceptionally so, at wandless magic, Wards were also his difficulty.

His mind searched and took hold of every offensive and defensive, every monitoring and alarm Ward surrounding the building. His mind sought out the right spells and incantations and, almost all at once, the Wards came down. It would not be long till the Wizard felt the shift in magic. He advanced on the house, his wand at the ready, waiting for an attack.

He was over halfway through the clearing when the door slammed open and the wizard was in front of him. Like most Dark Wizards Godric had seen, his clothes were dark, his aura screaming death and heat. His eyes were ablaze with fire and hate.

There was no speaking with the wizard. Godric knew this. Their fight was inevitable. He made the first move, silently casting spell after spell, dodging spells all the same.

The fight, barely minutes in, when an unfamiliar spell hit the ground several feet from him, fire and blaze consuming all, even the dirt. Godric moved back, the heat too much. Soon, more of that same spell went flying mixed with the usual Dark Magic Godric knew of. These spells were slow though, easily dodged.

And soon, he was closing in. With one quick deflecting spell, the short distance Godric had created between them was enough to bounce the wizards spell back towards him. A deadening scream pierced the air. Godric did not flinch at the noise. In such a war as this, there was no time for softness when faced with a duel.

When the smoke cleared, all that was left was the Dark Wizard on the ground, shaking in pain, face half burnt, skin and clothing scorched. Godric was never one to flout his victories, especially in the face of an injured and dying man, Dark Wizard or not. The next spell to leave Godric's wand was one that ended the man's life.

His attention did not rest on his dead opponent as he turned to the house. He still had the apprentice to deal with and with any luck he may be able to put the lad on the right path. He had his wand ready for the boy should he come out fighting. Of course, what he was not expecting was the sudden spike of magic that came from behind.

He dodged just barely as red streaked past him. He looked back in time to see yet another spell directed at him. He dodged again, casting his own spells at the dark figure hidden by the shadows of the trees. He could barely see the boy as he weaved in and out of the trees, casting fast and plentiful. The boy was surreptitious and persistent. Godric would give the lad that.

"Stop, lad!" Godric called out.

It did not stop though. The barrage of spells, strong as they were, continued to come. The boy was good, silent. Godric was beginning to wonder just who was stronger, the Master or the apprentice. It was almost amusing how good the boy was. It was rare for Godric to break a sweat. It was even rarer for Godric to struggle dodging spells. The boy was fast. His spells were nothing to laugh at, as well. No wonder a Master such as his former opponent took on a boy so young. The boy was a wonder at using his surrounding and size to his advantage.

Godric tried once more to bring their battle to a peaceful close, "Child, I do not wish to hurt you. Lay down your arms."

The spells stopped then, though Godric did not loosen his guard. He could no longer see the shadowed figure. Then, a spell came from behind. He dunked, turning sharply, casting fast. There was an 'umpf' sound indicating the spells collision. The spell was not a deadly one, just enough to knock the boy down, confuse him for necessity for Godric to get his peace out.

He apparated to the edge of the forest. It did not take him long to located the downed boy. He lay on his back, face scrunched in pain. Though he had to admit, he too was feeling pain from a few close calls from spells grazing him. Most notably was the deep cut on the upper part of his left arm.

"Yet again, it appears I've caused you to lose your bearings." Godric joked lightly, though the annoyance that quickly formed on the boy's face told him it did nothing to change the boy's immutable mood.

Salazar groaned as the spell hit his chest. He barely noticed he was on the ground before his head began to hurt from the impact. He could barely think straight, dully noting the crack that reverberate through the trees, the sound of an apparation. If there was any luck to be had in Salazar, the red haired man would kill him quickly.

The voice, light and obnoxious cut in threw the silence, "Yet again, it appears I've caused you to lose your bearings." Salazar pulled an annoyed face. It was a minute before he heard the man sigh in aggravation, then, "I do not wish to do the same as I did to your Master to you. You are still young, still able to right wrongs you have made."

Salazar growled, "You know nothing of my wrongs."

Another sigh, "I do not."

Salazar opened his eyes, taking in the man yet again. His red hair is, once more, the first thing that catches his eyes. Then, the thing he had not noticed when he had first seen the man was his crest. The gold and crimson shield, sown with care into the man's vest, the majestic and fierce lion made of silver thread in the center.

How foolish he was, thinking to take on him. No doubt this being the renowned Godric Gryffindor, killer of Dark Lords, slayer of evil beasts. A beast himself. Salazar looked away, refusing to meet the man's eyes. Oh, and how shameful this was as it was common knowledge that the man was not yet past his teens. He should have just left his Master when it was clear the man would lose.

Gryffindor walked closer to him, kneeling at his side, "I do not wish to kill you, lad."

"Then you are a fool." He said immediately. A soft hearted man was a weak man in Salazar's book, "If you leave me be then I will follow in the way of my fallen Master."

Salazar could feel his limbs returning to him. The pain was fading and his magic rising. He stayed in his spot though. He was not yet ready to face the man still, nor was he ready to run, not with his magic chaotic as it was.

"Then I will have to find you a new Master. I know many you could learn from. A boy of eight or nine should be will have no trouble with the transition to a new Master." The Gryffindor said a Salazar scoffed.

"You foolish brute. I am no such age." Salazar hissed, his nails digging into the dirt bellow his palms.

Salazar could see the skeptical gaze from the corner of his eyes. It was gone soon after though, "I see you have already packed."

Indeed Salazar had. At his side was a satchel of his Master's belongings. His Dark Arts books, potions, clothing his Master had denied him. Salazar had already donned the extra pair of his Master's leather boots once it was clear the man would lose. Though big on him, they were still more comfortable than his own.

He had planned on finding a new Master as soon as he was able to find one. He had hoped to get rid of the wizard before he went. It was never sensible to leave a man alive that knew his face. But as he looked back now, it was clear he should have just abandoned his Master from the beginning.

"If you are going to kill me then kill me. If not, then be on your way." He bit out in an acrimonious tone, "Should you place me with your chosen, I will show this mage no mercy."

"I see no reason for your determination to die." The Gryffindor heir replied.

It looked as if the red haired man wanted to speak more but was cut off as Salazar's arm raised in the blink of an eye, silent magic at work. He casted a spell wandlessly, though he was only just learning the Art, with such close range, the spell hit. Gryffindor went flying backwards. Taking advantage of the man's shock and pain, Salazar disapparated.

Godric groaned as he sat up, though the crack of apparation drowning him out. He winced at the noise. It did not take an apparation Master to know how unstable that apparation was. No doubt the boy would be feeling pain when he reached where ever he set off to. Hopefully the boy would be okay.

He got to his feet, steadying himself against a tree to his side. He rubbed the back of his head. The spell may have been weak, but hitting the ground as hard as he did was most certainly not pleasant. He wouldn't dare apparating as the lad did in as much pain and the state of weakness he was in at the moment.

So he began the journey back to the village, albeit slow and painfully. He limped slightly, only now noticing how much it pained him. He could feel the bruise still forming. He isn't quite sure if it came from a spell or his landing.

He couldn't count how many times he's sighed in just that day but he added another to number. The boy had so much potential and yet wasted it on an Art that twisted those who practiced it. It disgusted Godric that such a devious practice could take so young a boy as that.

He couldn't even get the boy's name. Perhaps one of the villagers knew. Godric was not one to give up. Should the boy become a true threat then yes, he would take care of the lad himself. But, till he proved himself so, Godric would fight to bring the him to the light. He had seen so many boys and girls become something hideous and unrecognizable. If he could stop it, he would. He would not be disconsolated. He would help the boy no matter what. He could already imagine how inauspicious there next meeting would be.

He had to admit, though, he was nonplussed as to how a boy so young could turn to the Dark Arts or even how such a boy could exude so much hate. When they next meet, and they would, Godric had no doubt, he would ask the boy. He doubted he would get an answer but he would try. The boy needed someone.

A loud shout came from in front of him, startling him from his thoughts, "Look, he's alive!"

There were several gasps and loud exclamations. It seemed news traveled fast. With such a far, out of the way place, it is no surprise a single change to the conformed way of living would no doubt create rumors and gossip quickly. He was not complaining though. He smiled broadly as he entered the town, walking tall. Many asked him questions as he went on his way, returning once more to the pub. He was kept in the bar for some time, telling and retelling his story to a packed room.

When he did retired to his room that night, he thought of the boy. Of course, he had asked of the boy and to his consternation, they knew little of him, the denizen of the village having barely spoken to the boy since his arrival. He was disappointed, but understood. He had doubted from the beginning that they would know anything.

Godric was not hard to realize his interest in the boy. He thought on his astute demeanor and the vitriolic way the boy spoke. It reminded him of Rowena and his younger brother in a way. Rowena had acted towards him the same as the boy did when the two were first introduce. His younger brother was no different to any person he talked to. It was hard not to compare the three with how similar they were and yet still so different. He had been comparing Rowena and Mordron for years. Now he had yet another to compare.

He smiled at the thought. It was as if he was speaking with the two of them yet again. The boy was the same as Rowena. Nothing could assuage her when she went into one of her rages. Not many could rival that girl in moods but the lad seemed to have done it, or close to it. And the boy's sarcasm could be compared to Mordron on his worst days without even trying.

It was completely by adventitious that the two had met this day and perhaps in the future as well, but Godric could not find it in himself to regret such an action. Whether by accident or fate, he looked forward to seeing the boy again. He would have to tell Rowena of this.

On Salazar's landing, he gasped in pain. For all the Gods, how he hated splinching himself. He looked on the back of his hand, the blood gushing from where his skin was missing. It was not big but enough so that blood loss would be a problem if he allowed it to continue as such.

He would have to rest and restore his depleted core if he were to attempt apparation again. There was no use going to the village to rest. They would give him up to Gryffindor in a heartbeat.

He tore a strip from the bottom of his shirt, using it as bandage for his hand. He would look through the potions he took when he found a place to rest for the night. Salazar would need to conserve his resources, especially his potions, should he run into problems on his journey. There was no doubt he would indeed run into danger. And with his magic at its lowest, he would need everything he had managed to take.

He came upon the village soon after apparating, having walked since then. He forewent the place, choosing to walk still till nightfall. If he still had any luck, the man would be staying the night instead of continuing on his journey. But Salazar had no doubt he would run into Godric Gryffindor again in the foreseeable future. A man like him would not easily give against his ideals and views. If the man was smart, he would kill him next time instead of talk.

The noise of the village was soon out of earshot as Salazar walked further and further. He should be used to this, he thought to himself. He should be used to leaving old Masters and finding knew. But it did not matter, he knew. With his Master's books, he no longer needed the Dark Wizard. It was not the first time Salazar wished for something close to a constant. One that did not involve the nomadic life of a new Master every few months. Perhaps that was the reason he stayed with this one for so much longer than the others. It was close to a year that he had remained with this one.

When the light finally faded fully from the sky and the clouds began to form, when even Salazar's incisive eyes could not see the lightless space in front of him, he finally stopped for the night. He put up familiar Wards of nomadic times in between past Masters. When the warming charms were placed, he soon found sleep. He had a short night ahead of him. Once dawn broke, he would need to leave.

END

Good day(or night-whatever the case may be). I truly hope you all enjoyed this. I have been writing this for some weeks now. I had to hurry in order to finish it before New Years. It is my gift to all of you. Marry freakin' New Years and Christmas and all that. Oh, speaking of which, can someone tell me why we have Christmas in the first place. I'm not really good at understanding these Christian holidays. (Atheist, sorry. I suck, I know.)

The actual story is 5,306 words. I am so proud of myself and the next chapter is longer. I'm still working on it and it has already surpassed this story by 2K words already. That's 7K words for the next connected one shot. I am so proud of myself.