Hello guys, I'm back with chapter two. Thanks to all the people who read my first chapter- it means a lot to me and it would mean even more if any reviews were left. So here's chapter two- hope you enjoy!desclaimer: I do not own these characters, JK Rowling does

Chapter Two- Forge of Alliances

It was night as a white stallion galloped along a forest path lit in moonlight. The rider wore a black cloak and his gaunt face was hooded: under occasional patches of moonlight a snake-shaped scar was made visible beneath the hood. The man pulled the reins of the horse in when he reached the edge of a cliff where a massive four-hundred foot drop fell into thick woodland below. The man took out a wand from beneath his cloak and pointing it behind him, whispered 'Obliterate'. Immediately, the footsteps his horse made in the muddy path disappeared: no one would know his tracks. The man's dark green eyes found an ancient wreck of a castle in the distance, surrounded by trees at least a quarter of a mile from where he awaited on horseback. Knowing he was on the right track, the man continued to ride his horse down a sloping track- it was a steep downhill, and the man very nearly often fell from the horse; he had always used apparation to travel, but the nature of his visit tonight required him to conceal anything magical about him.

The man continued for another half hour until he reached a small clearing from which, through two thick trunks, was made visible a stone archway. Torches fastened to the stone burnt in their brackets, illuminating the dark woodland. The man dismounted from his horse and with a wave of his wand produced a rope which tied the horse he had stolen from a village days back to a tree trunk. An adder slithered in a cage which the man kept in his pocket, his only companion.

'Wish me luck, sssserpent', rasped the man in his parselmouth. The snake gave his master a wise, knowing look and the man left the cage beside the tied horse. Tucking his wand well out of sight, he left the clearing and walked over to the stone archway, where two guards stood, their metal armour reflecting the fire of the torches. At the sight of the hooded man, the guards drew their swords, but he did not flinch.

'I come in peace', he said. 'I have come to speak with your leader, Lord Beorn of the Saxons'

The guards nodded, albeit reluctantly, and allowed the man passage beyond the stone archway. Smirking, Salazar Slytherin triumphantly walked into a courtyard where grass and weed grew from the cracks of the stone ground and the battered stone walls of the fortress bore broken windows. It was clear this place had not been lived in for hundreds of years. Salazar reached a door and entered a damp hallway illuminated by cobwebbed candles. He walked up the hallway and immediately reached another door where two more guards stood.

'I wish to speak with Lord Beorn', said Salazar. 'The guards at the archway permitted me entrance'

The guards nodded and pushed open the door. Salazar entered the throne room: it was a long and dark hall, the ceiling supported by pillars entwined with ivy which bordered an aisle which at the end sat the man whom Salazar

sought: Lord Beorn, leader of an army of rebelling Saxons. He sat on a stone throne wearing robes of wolf fur and his face bore the texture of rock, his black eyes immediately narrowing at the sight of the newcomer. Salazar walked down the hallway towards the throne and Lord Beorn looked ever more confused.

'Who are you?', Lord Beorn asked of the hooded stranger once he reached the throne. 'What business do you seek here?'

Salazar lifted his hood to reveal a pale and slim face: his lips were thin and colourless, the mark of a life on the run from persecution, his nose was long and crooked and a mop of messy, tangled black hair half covered his sly, green eyes. The distinctive burn mark still streaked across Salazar's gaunt cheek. Salazar was only twenty, but he gave off the aura of an old man, wizened by the harsh brutality of muggle persecution.

'It matters not who I am, but the offer of help which I bring to you', said Salazar sympathetically. 'I know you, my lord, command an army of at least six hundred Saxons hell bent on winning back the lands the Vikings stole from you. I also know that you seek revenge, hence I have come to offer my help'

'But how did you know where to find me?', barked Beorn impatiently, his brutal voice masking the fear he felt at the thought of his secret hideout being found by a stranger. 'How do you know of me? Who are you? For all you know, you could be a spy for the Vikings! Or a spy of Harold Ravenclaw himself!'

'A spy?', scoffed Salazar. 'My lord, see with your own eyes the scar which befouls my face! It was the punishment for a mere crime I committed when I was four- I stole medicine from the Ravenclaw citadel to aid my dying mother but Harold's men caught me. I was sentenced to be burnt, but I escaped with my life and this scar, and my mother died. So yes, I am not a spy for Ravenclaw and other Vikings like him! I seek revenge for the pain they've inflicted on me!'

Salazar hoped the lie he told about the stolen medicine would be believable for Beorn to accept his offer. Salazar was no fool: he knew that the Vikings and Saxons, cut throat enemies they may be, both shared one common enemy themselves: sorcery. Salazar knew if he were to avenge the death of his parents and his clan whom died at the hands of Viking warriors, he would be forced to ally with a Saxon to do so, meaning he would have to hide any traces he was a wizard himself. Beorn considered the man for a moment, and then seemed satisfied by his cause against the Vikings.

'Very well', said Beorn. 'I see you have suffered much at the hands of those heartless brutes. But it still does not explain how you managed to find me'

'My Lord, I've heard many whispers, many rumours of a Saxon army hiding out within the forests of Mercia', lied Salazar. 'Following lead of these rumours led me here tonight'

'It would seem so', said Beorn. 'Now, let's get to business. What help can you offer me? You're just an orphan boy who lost his mother because Harold Ravenclaw threw a tantrum over spilt medicine. You're not powerful, you don't own men or land!'

'Perhaps not, but I have spies within the citadel of Ravenclaw itself', smirked Salazar. 'Poor sufferers like myself who lost a lot to Harold and his Viking comrades whom I have found and picked up, and um, enticed, to my cause'

Enticed was the right word, for Salazar merely infiltrated the Ravenclaw citadel on a daily basis for weeks and used the imperio curse on a group of maids, guards and them to force them to be his spies. Beorn's eyes lit up in malice: spies within Harold's castle? The Saxon commander struggled to hold back a laugh.

'I believe, sire, with my spies and with your garrison, we can launch a successful attack on Ravenclaw castle', said Salazar. 'We will ransack the citadel empty and leave the great name of Ravenclaw penniless!'

Beorn grinned: in this mysterious stranger he finally had found the key to his revenge against Harold Ravenclaw, one of the most powerful allies of his Viking enemy, King Alfred, whom had stolen from the Saxons their lands and rights over England. Salazar inwardly triumphed, knowing that Beorn's thirst for revenge would make him accept the offer: at long last Salazar would finally take down the most powerful Muggle ally of the King who's hatred of magic had driven Salazar and his kind into hiding. Both men nodded in mutual acceptance: a disastrous alliance had been forged. Beorn summoned his war council and with Salazar's help drew out a map of Ravenclaw castle, pointing out parts on the map where Salazar's spies would aid the invasion. Salazar left the castle in the early hours of the morning: after planning the invasion with his Saxon ally to the last detail, he would make the Ravenclaw family, one of the most powerful Muggle families in the realm pay in blood.

In the castle of Ravenclaw in the lands of Anglia, Rowena Ravenclaw burst into her chambers, her dark brown eyes wide with fury. Her beautiful, hand-crafted blue gown and her dark brown rippling hair which fell to her back billowed around her as she crossed her large, comfortable chambers towards her favourite calming spot: an arched window which overlooked the sea which crashed against the cliff on which Ravenclaw Castle was built on. The princess seethed in fury remembering the recent argument she just had with her father, King Harold of East Anglia- it regarded her hand in marriage to another of his many allies, again.

'My Lady, you seem troubled'. Rowena's maid approached her timidly. She was Helga Hufflepuff, daughter of Rowena's mother's old maid Ceri, and Rowena's only friend amongst the gossiping and toxic theatre of ladies of court. Where Rowena was tall and proud, Helga was slightly shorter and gave off the air of a quiet, reserved woman. Where Rowena's skin was a beautiful shade of olive, Helga's was more paler, slightly more wrinkled after spending the years of her childhood cleaning the palace floors. Despite their differences however, both young women saw each other as friends, as sisters, each harbouring the other's secret: both had magic.

'Wouldn't you be troubled if you were to be married off to Lord Ivar just to satisfy your father's need for power?', scowled Rowena.

'Lord Ivar?', asked Helga, concerned. 'Is he not that old man who owns a bit of land to the north of the citadel?'

'Yes, him', said Rowena. She had only seen Lord Ivar once during the court trials of a captured sorcerer: he was a short, middle-aged and slightly overweight man who revelled in using his power to enjoy the company of maids around the palace whenever he wanted and silence anyone who found out about his mistresses: all in all he was everything an educated, quite anachronistic Rowena detested.

'Isn't it possible if you just told your father that you won't agree?', asked Helga. 'That Ivar is not of your standards?'

Rowena scoffed.

'My father's word is law', said Rowena. 'He's dictated my life constantly since mother died. Sometimes I wish I did not even have a father-'

Rowena immediately cut short her sentence upon seeing Helga's face fall.

'Sorry Helga, I did not mean to upset you', said Rowena sympathetically.

'No, no it's fine', smiled Helga, fighting back tears. Whilst her mistress despised her father, Helga longed for hers, having last seen her father at their small cottage in Wales. The memory was hazy for Helga: she had only been six when her and her mother had fled their home from witch-hunters twenty years ago, leaving her father behind. The pale and timid face of her father and the scream she heard when her and her mother ran still haunted Helga's nightmares into adulthood.

'It's alright to show emotion', said Rowena. 'You're not one of those stuffy ladies at court, Helga. You're actually human. Please speak out against me if I offend you'

'Thank you for your kindness, my lady', smiled Helga, grateful that Rowena did not allow their class difference to build a wall between their friendship. 'When does Lord Ivar arrive, then?'

'Next week', said Rowena. 'He comes with a party, and my kind father intends to throw a feast to celebrate our union. I fear there truly is no escape from this marriage'

'If only the Queen was still alive', said Helga sadly. 'She would be able to put things right, stop your alliance with this Lord Ivar. My mother has told me many stories of your mother, how she immediately gave her a job when we arrived here twenty years ago. We are forever grateful'

'I am grateful that I have a friend-no, a sister in you, and a mentor in your mother', smiled Rowena, and she pulled her maid into a hug. When the two pulled apart, Rowena noticed the setting sun.

'It is sunset, Helga, you should go home now', said Rowena. 'I'll Apparate to your home at the usual time'

Helga nodded and bowed to her mistress before leaving the room. Rowena was now alone: she had a few hours until her weekly magic training session with Helga's mother Ceri, so she decided to drown out her sorrows by venturing to her private library situated behind a set of curtains in her chambers. She picked out a book at random and walked back to her bed, collapsed on her comfortable four-poster and became immersed in the novel. When the castle bells rang signalling midnight a few hours later, Rowena dropped the book in panic and scrambled to find her dark blue robes. She fastened her robes and drew her wand: pointing it at the door she whispered 'Alohamora', and the door was locked. She then concentrated with all her might on Helga's small cottage in the nearby hamlet and turned on the spot: the usual suffocating sensation apparation brought engulfed Rowena as she twisted through space and time. She opened her eyes and found herself standing on a side street in the nearby hamlet; a stray horse galloped down the torch lit high street nearby. Rowena checked to see the coast was clear before knocking on a door.

'It is me, the Lady Rowena', she said. A rush of footsteps beyond the door and then a slim, middle-aged woman stood at the threshold, her kind hazel eyes smiling at Rowena.

'Come in, my lady', said Ceri, allowing the princess to enter the home. The Hufflepuffs', or the Smith's (they had to change their surname to throw the witch-hunters off their tail) home compromised of one small room with two beds, a kitchen and a chamber pot. Rowena entered the back room of the cottage where the lesson began.

'Something is wrong with Rowena', said Ceri to Helga half an hour later. Tonight's training sesson had focused on defending yourself against multiple targets at once, so Ceri had magically animated four dummies to act as duelling opponents against Rowena. The princess furiously slashed her wand at the dummies, shouting 'Stuepfy!' and 'Reducto!' with rage. Helga had had her turn before Rowena, and now both mother and daughter watched the princess vent her frustration on the makeshift opponents. Helga explained the situation regarding Rowena's hand in marriage to Lord Ivar.

'Lord Ivar, that pig', said Ceri as though she had a distasteful dose of potion in her mouth. 'The King would be willing to sacrifice his daughter's happiness just for power?'

'I know', said Helga sadly. 'But what can we do?'

'Lady Louisa would never stand for this injustice', said Ceri sadly. 'She loved her daughter with all her heart. Harold just sees her as a vessel of power'

'And REDUCTO!', shouted Rowena finally, a jet of light issuing from her wand and blowing the last dummy into the next kingdom. She breathed heavily and swayed dangerously on the spot: Helga drew her wand and conjured a chair for Rowena to fall on.

'You've stressed yourself out far too much', said Ceri as Helga passed Rowena a glass of water.

'Wouldn't you if you know you're getting married to a man twice your age?', spat Rowena, clumsily sipping her water. 'What I wouldn't give to hex both the muggle pig Ivar and my father with the hive jinx-'

'Absolutely not, my lady', said Ceri sternly. 'Imagine what your father's reaction would be if he ever found out the truth about your powers. You're very clever and wise, but one thing you lack is your ability to control your anger'

Rowena contracted her eyebrows and looked away. No one understood her pain. Helga patted Rowena on the arm but she shrugged away.

'My dear, I know life is harsh for you', said Ceri kindly. 'Being born into a kingdom which persecutes witches and wizards like us. And especially after your mother died, your father has vent his anger out on you instead. But you must be strong. You cannot allow yourself to become careless. There will be a way out of this, I know there will. There will be a happy ending'

Ceri struggled to fight back tears as a voice at the back of her head asked her 'did you ever have your happy ever after with Alric?'. Rowena looked up and smiled at Ceri: she considered her as a mother.

'Thanks', said Rowena, getting to her feet and hugging her maid's mother. Ceri extended her other arm and pulled Helga into a hug also. The three women stood on the spot in one another's arms, Rowena silently thinking about the reactions of shock and horror the ladies at court would have if they saw the princess hugging two serving women.

A procession of knights and noblemen on horseback rode along a road headed for Ravenclaw Palace. The knights and noblemen alike wore robes of green which bore the mark of the House of Ivar: a sword striking down a dragon. At the helm of the party rode Lord Ivar flanked by guards: the satisfaction that he was going to be marrying the most beautiful woman this side of England as well as the daughter of one of King Alfred's relatives was evident on Ivar's face as he could not help but grin, revealing yellowing teeth. Amongst the knights was a tall, strong-built young man with locks of flaming red hair and rubies on his sword glistening in the afternoon sunlight. He was Godric Gryffindor, the son of the deceased Lord Valiant Gryffindor and his deceased wife, Lady Catrina, as well as the only wizard amongst the party.

The party were a day's ride away from Ravenclaw citadel and they decided to camp in a nearby forest, just off the road. Lord Ivar wondered off into his tent with the air of a very excited man whom was to receive a prize tomorrow in the form of Princess Rowena Ravenclaw. Of course, to his face, the knights respected their Lord, but when the old man was not looking, they ridiculed him every way possible. The knight who ridiculed the power-crazed lord the most was the youngest of the warriors, Godric.

'And his carcass is so big', said Godric to the crowd of knights who sat around the campfire that night holding mugs of bear, 'that all of Anglia's crops will die because of no sunlight'

The knights chortled and laughed at Godric's wit. Godric spent the next hour amusing himself and others by insulting Lord Ivan before they decided that they ought to get some sleep if they wanted to reach Ravenclaw castle on time the next morning. As the knights rolled out their sleeping bags and each fell asleep, Godric's closest friend, Sir Euan who was a year older than him, approached him.

'I really don't know where you get it from', laughed Euan quietly as both men rolled out their sleeping bags on the forest floor.

'It's easy to be able to insult old pigs like Ivar', said Godric, scowling at the direction of Ivar's marquee-like tent at the centre of the dark clearing. 'Haven't you heard the stories of how he forces himself on unsuspecting maids?'

'Disgusting, he is', said Euan. Like Godric and nearly all the knights, he bore a deep dislike for their master. 'But we should be careful now, Godric. Any of this reaches him and we'll all lose our heads, especially as he'll soon be Harold Ravenclaw's son-in-law'

'I wonder how the Lady Rowena feels about marrying a man her father's age', said Godric. He felt pity for the princess when he heard that she was to be married off to the pig on human-legs for political purposes, and at times felt the chivalrous urge to ride to Ravenclaw tower, use his powers and save the damsel in distress. 'She's a right beauty as well, they say'

'Don't let old Ivar hear that', said Euan warningly before falling asleep in snores. Godric was the only one awake in the clearing, and he felt his thoughts wonder.

Godric had been born with magic- he knew this from an early age when he remembered accidentally turning one of his tutors into a large chicken. The shock had been too much for his mother, Catrina, and she passed away of a heart attack. As for Godric's father, Valiant, he was determined to never let the truth of Godric's magic reach public ears- the Gryffindor name would be in mud if it were to come out that it's heir was a wizard, after all. In order to make sure Godric lived to his destiny of becoming a knight, as was expected of son of noblemen, Valiant had sent Godric to the employment of an acquaintance, Lord Ivar. Godric clutched his sword which lay beneath the sleeping back beside him- the Sword of Gryffindor, the ancestral sword passed down from father to son in the Gryffindor line- it was given by Valiant to Godric before he left for Ivar's service, and Godric guarded the sword with all his heart and might. It was natural for a wizard such as Godric to feel petrified living and working at such a high standing amongst Muggles, always facing the risk of exposure and death, so the Sword provided him companionship and reassurance that none, not even Euan could give him.

The following morning the knights and noblemen of Ivar's court awoke and had a hasty breakfast before departing the clearing. They rode non-stop towards Ravenclaw Castle- once they crossed the border into East Anglia, the outline of a beautiful palace could be seen upon a cliff, it's towers striking high into the brilliant blue sky. The party continued to snake up the road until they reached the gates surrounding Ravenclaw Tower. Godric felt the nervousness of his fellow knights, but most of all they all despaired at their hated lord's smug arrogance.

In the courtyard of Ravenclaw Palace, King Harold stood proud and mighty on the main steps leading up into the citadel. Harold was flanked by his court and his knights, all dressed to their best standards. Harold made sure to make his court presentable as possible: a lot counted on the upcoming days in which he would accommodate Ivar in his palace. One small slip and Ivar may call of the marriage proposal between him and Rowena- it was an eventuality which would prove detrimental to the political aims Harold hoped to ensure.

From a window in the castle, Rowena gloomily watched as Lord Ivar and his party rode across the courtyard. She saw her future husband, a satisfied smile upon his greasy face as him and her father shook hands for all to see, the gesture of a peaceful greeting. And then Harold allowed Ivar and his party to enter the palace doors, and Rowena's anxiety regarding the welcome banquet that night only heightened: she felt trapped, for soon she would be the wife of a man she loathed. It was only Helga and Ceri's advice on not to do so that Rowena decided against using magic to reject the advances of Ivar- 'destiny has it's funny ways', Helga often said wisely.

That night as Ravenclaw palace accommodated it's new guest, an army of six-hundred Saxons lay in wait on the empty shore beneath the castle, the cliff providing them cover. The guards under the sinister control of Salazar opened the doors to a set of secret tunnels running from the cliff to the castle, and Saxon warriors swarmed in through the secret exit. The invasion had begun.

From the cover of a few trees, Salazar and Beorn awaited on horseback watching Ravenclaw castle, cold hatred etched upon their faces. In a matter of seconds they would gain their revenge, and everything was to change forever.

End of Chapter Two