This is a random bunch of drabbles/headcanons of the Hogwarts Founders, particularly Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin, because it obviously only takes one superb fanart these days to get me into a ship. They follow no order, no timeline and mostly no plot. My own fanart can be found here: "mitdemadlerimherzen"."deviantart"."com/gallery/50186654/Harry-Potter"

Disclaimer: I've missed writing these. I don't own Harry Potter, it's all JK's. (Ignore all the disclaimers of my past stories where I said I owned anything. Apparently I only own stupid ideas ;-))

You Shouldn't Have Said That

"Helga." Salazar Slytherin was speaking very quietly and moving his lips as little as the words would allow. "Hide your face."

Helga Hufflepuff obeyed for once. Usually she would have made a point of not being told what to do or say, but this time she simply grabbed the hood of her robes and pulled it over her head.

She felt Salazar's strong protective hand on the small of her back and knew something was wrong. They had been to a wizarding market in order to buy ingredients for potions lessons at their newly founded school and on their way back they had to cross through a large town.

In the centre of the town stood a pyre, faint smoke rising from the ashes of wooden logs scattered around. Salazar had stared straight ahead while passing it, his gaze resentful bordering on furious, but Helga had stolen a sad glance at it. Burning witches and wizards was a common occurence in their time. Most able sorcerers feared no harm on the pyre, but then the most able were seldom caught. It was mostly uneducated Muggleborns and more often even Muggles themselves (wrongly accused of witchcraft) that burned to their death on the stake.

Salazar resented Muggles for this. Helga merely felt helpless.

They hastened towards the road leading out of the town. Helga regretted coming with him. They had been fine while purchasing their ingredients but as soon as they were back on Muggle ground the problems had started. They were both rather well dressed and that attracted attention. They were also strangers, which always attracted attention. And they travelled with no visible luggage and by foot, which was most unusual.

People stared at them from windows, from doorways and those who passed them on their way shot them suspicious glances. Helga shivered. She remebered the day her village had turned on her. She had been born and raised in a small village and by the time she was twelve, she was able to heal injuries. A couple of years later it had brought her to a pyre of her own.

They stopped dead. Ahead stood at least twenty men, pitchforks and shovels in their hands, looking grim.

"Who are you and what business do you have here?", one of the men asked in a harsh tone that suggested that they were unwelcome, whatever business they might have had.

"We are on our way home. Our business is not your concern." Salazar responded with an air of authority, like a lord might address his minions. He subtly stepped in front of Helga so as to shield her from the men's view.

"Give us your belongings and you shall be allowed to pass.", a second man spoke up. He wielded his fork threateningly.

Helga noticed the wand suddenly in Salazar's hand and gripped his arm.

"We have no money with us." He lied blatantly, relaxing a bit under Helga's touch.

"Then give us the woman!"

This time Helga tensed, but Salazar's mouth turned into a mirthless smirk. "You shouldn't have said that."

Will update this whenever inspiration strikes.