*...in the basement...* Harry swam back to consciousness with a groan. His head felt as though it was being used as a drum by a troll with a very large club, and his left arm ached abominably. He opened one eye and was surprised to find himself in an underground chamber. One that was fairly well-lit, in spite of being belowground.
It was a large, cavernous room, like an amphitheatre or audience chamber. It was round, and the walls were smooth stone, covered in dust. Probably a natural cave covered over by the school, maybe even an abandoned first version of the Great Hall. The floor, which Harry was laying on, seemed to be tiled in marble, cracked and broken with age. Some light, certainly, filtered down from the dusty hole he and Malfoy had fallen through, but not enough to account for how bright the room was... Malfoy!
Harry sat bolt upright, ignoring the pain in his head and arm, and reached for his wand. A wave of searing pain coursed through his arm, and he became aware that it was bound tightly with what looked like strips of black cloth and put in a sling of the same material. He gasped in pain and cradled it back to his body.
"So you've decided to wake up and share the panic, Potter," Malfoy drawled from elsewhere in the large room. "Now you can get up and help me find a way out of this place."
Harry looked around desperately, trying to locate the other boy. Malfoy was crouched by one of the walls, with his wand lit and in one hand. By its light, Harry saw that the stone wall behind him was covered with scratch marks, which he seemed to be studying carefully.
Harry blinked. Malfoy wasn't wearing his robes anymore, just simple black jeans and a white T-shirt, with a strip of black cloth around his head, binding his temples like a headband. Harry glanced down at his bound arm and gulped. Malfoy had shredded his school robe to use as bandages. "You... my arm..."
"Is broken," Malfoy said, turning around to face the wall and examine the scratches. "You landed on it." His voice developed an uncustomary sharp snap instead of the lazy drawl Harry was used to. "If you want to get out of here, I suggest you get up and help me, Potter. I'm not in the mood to coddle your *sensitive* nature."
Harry had been about to thank the other boy for taking care of his arm, but decided against it since Malfoy was being so spiteful, and instead got unsteadily to his feet and looked around. "Where are we?"
"If I knew that, I wouldn't have to look for a way out!" Malfoy spat. "I'd know one!" He leaned back on his heels and glared at the wall, as though it was the wall's fault he was trapped underground with his worst enemy. "There isn't even supposed to be an underground area here!"
Harry found his wand, muttered, "*Lumos*," to light it and went over to crouch by Malfoy, where he stared at the scratches on the wall. "Another Chamber of Secrets?" he asked. "Those scratches-"
"Oh, please. If it were another Chamber of Secrets, we wouldn't have been able to get in by just falling through a floor. Try and actually think for once, Potter." But Malfoy's insult seemed almost instinctive rather than meant, and he took the headband/bandage off his head to reveal an ugly, bloody scratch going from just above his right eyebrow to nearly his ear. Paying no attention to the gash beyond a wince as the makeshift bandage came away, he began to wipe at the wall with it, taking off a great deal of dust. "They're not scratches," he said smugly after a moment of scrubbing. "They're runes."
Harry stared at the wall, trying to decipher the slithery writings. "I can't read it," he said. "I can." If it was possible, Malfoy's tone had gotten even more smug. "I take Study of Ancient Runes. Really rather good at it, actually...." He shot a glance at Harry, and when he spoke next, his voice was condescending. "Ohh, so there's something you *can't* do, Potter? How shocking-"
"I never claimed to be able to do everything!" Harry snapped.
Malfoy snickered. "If you say so."
"So what does it say?" Harry touched the runes, as if that would tell him what they meant. "Are they directions to get out of here?"
Malfoy shook his head, frowning slightly. "No. It looks like the history of Hogwarts." Once again, his mood had changed. He wasn't paying attention to Harry anymore, which was a good thing because Harry was getting fed up with dealing with constant provocation. The pale boy stood up and looked down the wall. "This is only the beginning, though... where's the rest?"
"Interested in history all of a sudden, Malfoy?" Harry asked. "Shouldn't we be trying to get back up and out of here?"
"What do you plan to do, jump up and down until you fly out the top?" Malfoy began tracing the runes along the wall, until they stopped at the corner of the room. "Go right ahead. I could use a laugh." He crouched down again.
"Now what are you doing?" Harry followed him and looked closely at the dusty writing. It was still incomprehensible.
Malfoy apparently didn't even think he was worth insulting anymore, because he replied in a perfectly reasonable (if not friendly) tone, "The story stops here, but it hasn't ended..." He brushed silver-blond hair off his forehead, wincing as his fingers encountered the bloody gash in his head, and looked around the room.
Harry bit his lip and looked back at his inexpertly bound arm. He wasn't sure if he'd have done as much for Malfoy, if it had been the other boy with the broken arm instead of him. And far from his usual barrage of complaints about the smallest injury, Malfoy was bearing his slashed forehead, which probably felt at least as painful as it looked, without complaint. "Look, Malfoy...." he said hesitantly. "As long as we're trapped down here together, how about a truce? We'll probably get out faster working with each other than against each other."
Malfoy gave him a look with ice in it, then shrugged. "Fine. But only until we get out. I don't think I can put up with you for longer than that."
Harry stood up. "Same here. It's a deal." He stared at the runes again. "Why write in runes? Especially in a place where no one would see... and then why not finish?" He looked around the room, then his eyes widened. "Hey! I think I found some more!"
The part of the wall in question was filled with runes, and even to Harry's eyes they were different. Instead of the smooth, sinuous flow of the runes Malfoy had found, these were quick and jerky, as though whoever had carved them into the wall were running out of time or was very emotional about something. Malfoy walked over, and Harry noticed that most of the arrogant swagger he affected while walking around Hogwarts was gone, replaced by... something else, something that reminded him... of that dream from earlier! Harry narrowed his eyes. Something was going on in this place, something bizarre.
Malfoy didn't notice Harry's preoccupation. He nodded, looking over te runes. "This is the end of the story... how Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin fought their duel, and Slytherin died. The founders all left the school, putting it in the care of their top students, and were never heard from again-" He tracked his hand along the runes as he read them. Harry frowned. "That doesn't sound right."
But he could remember learning about it in History of Magic, and how the Slytherins (Malfoy included) had slunk around alternately feeling sorry for themselves and coming up with elaborate schemes to make life miserable for the Gryffindors. But now it seemed wrong... like that wasn't what had happened to the founders at all. He shot a glance at Malfoy, expecting the other to start in again on him.
But Malfoy was looking at the runes oddly, too. "You're right," he said finally, sounding a little surprised to hear himself say it. "It *doesn't* sound right...." He studied the runes harder, apparently thinking he'd made a mistake somewhere in the translation. Harry decided to look around the room some more, to see whether he could find the middle of the story. It was strange though, how quickly the need to get out of the room had given way to the need to find the rest of a story that had been hammered into his head since his first year at Hogwarts. Finding the rest of it probably wouldn't get them out, of course, but it was something to do until something else presented itself.
Eventually, he found himself back at the original scrawl. He hadn't found anything else. He tracked his hand along the runes as if reading them, hoping that at least a glimmer of something would get through. As his hand touched the last one, a flash of green and scarlet light blinded him, and white hot pain shot through the scar on his head.
Harry yelped and fell backwards, away from the wall. In a split second, Malfoy was with him, keeping him from falling on his broken arm again (for which Harry thanked him and he ignored) and staring at the wall, whose runes had reorganized into English words. At the bottom, five letters were still runes, but they were glowing a golden yellow color. "What did you do?" Malfoy asked, too surprised to sound spiteful or angry about it.
"I don't know." Harry jerked away from the other boy. A truce was a truce, but being too close to Malfoy made his skin want to crawl off his bones. "It just...happened. When I touched them."
Malfoy didn't say anything at first, just stared at the words. Then he sniffed disgustedly.
"What?" Harry asked, looking at the words himself, for the first time. Then he frowned and read out loud. "'Wide as an apple, deep as a cup, all the seven seas can't fill it up'?" He grinned suddenly, recognizing it. "It's a riddle!"
"No, really?" Malfoy asked acidly. "I hadn't noticed."
"Now how do we answer it... bet you we're supposed to put these yellow ones in the right order and they'll spell out the answer."
"Brilliant," Malfoy drawled acidly. "Now all we have to do is figure out what the right answer is!"
"Oh, that's easy." It was fun for once to be the one sounding smug and superior. "If you knew anything about Muggle stuff, you'd know it too. The answer is a sieve."
Malfoy's lips thinned, and Harry had the unpleasant feeling that the pale boy was very carefully keeping score between them, and looking for ways to even that score without breaking truce. "A sieve," he repeated, and glared at the riddle. "How charming..." Working quickly, he touched the glowing sigils in some order or another.
It must have been the right order, because there was a bright golden flash, and the wall swung open to reveal a dark passageway. Harry and Malfoy both stood up at the same time. "Weird," Harry whispered. He shined the light from his wand into the passage. "Think we found the middle of the story," he remarked casually.
"Your best subject is the obvious, isn't it?" Malfoy sauntered a few feet into the passage. He used his own light to peer carefully at the lines of script. "Mostly building details... how many tons of stone were used, how long it took, the spells guarding it. A few remarks on relations between the founders...." He gestured further down. "It continues on that way." Without waiting for Harry, he continued down the passage, occasionally stopping to look at a section.
After a brief fantasy of figuring out how to shut the wall up again and barricading Malfoy inside, Harry followed. The passage wasn't dusty at all, he noticed with some shock. Like it had been shut up so tight not even dust could settle in or something. He caught up with Malfoy some thirty feet into the passage where he'd crouched down again to get a closer look at some of the writing.
After a few moments, Malfoy reached out and touched one of the sigils. "That's not a-" he began, when the lights from both their wands was snuffed completely out. "Did you do that, Potter?" he asked with a slight edge in his tone.
"No... why would I? Did you?" Harry waited for a few moments, but Malfoy didn't answer. "Malfoy?" No answer again. *He's left me behind in here,* Harry realized. *I should have gone ahead and shut him in here first, should never have trusted him....*
Chapter Four: Duel Nature
*...trusted him...* Godric Gryffindor blinked, suddenly reminded of ten years before, when he, Helga, Rowena, and Salazar had stood on a hilltop and looked over the land that would become their school, Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft. So much had changed since then... their first three classes of students were graduated and gone, some of those students doing very great things indeed.
He started walking again. Ten years... it was a long time. His hair was completely steel-gray now instead of the distinguished salt and pepper it had been then, but his smile was the same, still so much like a little boy trying to charm his way out of trouble. Or at least so Helga was fond of saying. Godric stopped in the Trophy Room and stared morosely at the House Cup. It had seemed like such a *good* idea at the time.
First, sort the students into Houses which would put them under the care of a teacher who would give them the best opportunity for success in magic. Next, give the students a prize, something real and tangible to work toward, and they would. It was a sound enough principle. But then the House Cup had become a matter of personal status for the teachers as well, and that had caused problems between the four friends.
No, that wasn't true. Helga could care less about the House Cup; it was, she said, far too large to drink tea out of, and really, what was a cup for if not to drink from it? Rowena would have enjoyed winning, but she preferred to focus her energy on study and research. No, the real problems were between him and Salazar. He'd trusted the man back at the beginning, trusted him and defended him, and then he'd betrayed what they all stood for....
No, wrong again. The pale Parselmouth had been true to his own ideals and trained his personal students to use every ounce of their intellect to get ahead, no matter what. Cunning mixed with a healthy dose of ruthlessness had yielded very clever wizards and witches indeed, but almost all of them were known for their cutthroat approach to in-House and school politics.
Godric's students, on the other hand, were well-liked by the rest of the school. Cheerful, hard-working, honest...they were the opposite of everything Salazar's students worked so hard to accomplish. It was in large part because of that that Salazar's students (called "little Slytherins" by the other students when the founders' backs were turned, or sometimes just "Slytherins") had every single year won the House Cup for having the most points.
The little Slytherins weren't above scheming to get what they wanted, or resorting to trickery or cheats. Anything that got the job done was fine with them. "But there's no fairness like that," Godric said moodily to the House trophy, which glittered solemn and golden back at him. "Even my children are beginning to give up on ever winning-"
"Bravery without intelligence," said a soft voice behind him. Godric turned to face Salazar, pale and thin with his snake draped around his shoulders. "Hello, Godric."
"Salazar."
"You're looking well." Salazar stroked his snake and glided over to join Godric, his emerald-green robes just barely brushing the floor. "My House has won it again this year, you know," he said softly, looking at the House Cup.
"So they have... Salazar...." Godric paused, then steeled himself to continue. "Could you... just maybe... tone it down a little? You know, with the personal training thing? I'll be the first to admit that your way is effective, but your students have made themselves a reputation for... unpleasantness... and you know, in all fairness the other Houses ought to at least have the opportunity to win-"
"They have all the opportunity they need," Salazar answered dismissively. "All they need do is take it when it presents itself. If they're too slow or too stupid to see their advantage and press it, why, that's their loss, isn't it?"
Godric nodded absently. He'd known what Salazar's answer was going to be even before he'd said anything. As was getting more and more common lately, he found himself nearly hating his old friend. Couldn't Salazar see that he was coming closer and closer to destroying something good and right with his "might makes right" approach?
It was what they'd founded Hogwarts to end, for heaven's sake! They'd seen the divisiveness and the factions of the other wizards in the world, and had seen the Muggles able to divide and conquer as they chose because each wizard was only interested in their own little chunk of power, not the survival of magic in general.
And that was what Godric had thought the school was all about. Teaching children with the ability, whoever they were, so that all wizards would be one people instead of a bunch of individuals. In that spirit, Godric had chosen several Muggle-born children and several half-bloods to come to Hogwarts.
Helga had accepted them all with her usual motherly placidity, Rowena hadn't seen them as anything more than students, and he himself had been overjoyed that they had come and ended up learning as much as he taught. But Salazar... Salazar had refused to let even one Muggle-born child into his House, and no amount of persuasion had been able to move him on that point. He'd argued for six hours before caving in and accepting just one half-blood. "And to this day, you've never allowed another...." he mused out loud.
"Excuse me?" The pale wizard's voice was colder than a glacier.
"Half-bloods. You've only ever taught one as a member of your House."
"And I would not have taken him if you had not refused to back down." Salazar's voice remained frozen. "Unlike you, I recall what their kind is capable of. I will not have one of those creatures menacing a pure-blooded-"
"Creatures?" Godric asked softly. "Is that what you think they are?"
Salazar paled even more. Unlike most people, when he got angry, Godric Gryffindor didn't shout or scream, he just got very, very quiet and calm. And the two wizards had been friends long enough that Salazar knew what dangerous ground he was on. "Aren't they?" he shot back defiantly. "Think of it, Gryffindor, think of the numbers of our kind those filthy Muggles and degenerate Mudbloods have killed. And for what? Something they couldn't do or couldn't understand, something they *could* do if they half tried?" His expression twisted into something that was halfway between a grimace and a sneer. "They can keep their crosses and their public burnings, Gryffindor, and I'll keep my students separate from them. Separate and safe."
"Things are different now, Salazar," Godric said, still very quiet. "There are no more burnings, the inquisition has ended-"
"For now. It's only a matter of time until the next one, and mark my words, Gryffindor, it will be one of your little Mudblood pets who lights the first stick under your feet-"
Godric had his wand out and in dueling position before Salazar finished the sentence. "No one," he whispered, "insults my children."
"Oh, how touching," Salazar hissed mockingly. He brought out his own wand and with a quick hiss directed his pet snake into a corner to allow him freedom of movement. "Is that a challenge, Godric?"
"I think it has to be... Slytherin. It's been coming for a very long time." Godric fell into a ready stance easily; dueling was one of his great strengths. It was quick and decisive, from moment to moment without any particular plan. He felt a brief pang as he watched Salazar carefully arranging himself in a dueling stance. The Parselmouth was a schemer and a planner, not a fighter... he'd lose this fight handily. "Salazar... listen... you can still back out-"
Salazar cut him off with a sharp flick of his wand. "I'm ready," he hissed angrily. "I've been waiting for this, Gryffindor... I knew it would come to this...."
"Salazar, please! I'll fight you if I have to, but I don't want to! This will tear everything apart, don't you see-" Godric had to fight to keep his expression desperate. He *didn't* want to fight Salazar, and yet... it was like there was another voice in head saying that he had to, that there was nothing else for it, it had as good as already happened.
"Three." Salazar's voice was implacable, and no hint of either hesitation or friendship was in his voice.
Godric's shoulders slumped slightly. "You know you'll never win, Salazar," he said softly. "I'm that much better than you-"
"All the more reason. Two."
Godric bowed his head, giving up. Somewhere along the line, friendship had turned into rivalry, and from there it wasn't far for simple rivals to become enemies. "One..." he said, and brought his wand up.
At the same time, both of them cried, "*Expelliarmus!* at the top of their lungs. Godric had meant only to disarm Salazar and continue to try to reason with him, and who knew what the other had been thinking. But in any case, both were knocked to the ground with their wands on the floor between them by the force of the magic they'd called.
Godric groaned and sat up, thinking he'd underestimated Salazar's power and wondering why this seemed so familiar, as though it had happened before. Salazar wasted no time; he immediately twisted twisted to his feet and grabbed his wand, ready to throw another spell at Godric... then he stopped, looking a little bewildered. Godric used this opportunity to seize his own wand and remember a lethal spell. It didn't look as though he'd haev another chance, and it didn't look like Salazar was going to stop short of killing him first.
After a moment, Salazar's expression cleared back to cold hatred and rage, although his eyes still held hints of confusion. "Keep your school and your Mudbloods," he hissed. "Keep your foolish ideals. They're none of mine."
He began backing out the door of the Trophy Room, as though expecting Godric to attack him from behind if he turned around. "But we're not through yet, Gryffindor. One day your little pets will discover that I have some very lethal secrets indeed." He smiled, and his cold eyes glittered maliciously. "Fare you well, Gryffindor. We shan't meet again in this life." He was at the doorway.
Rowena and Helga burst into the room from other entrances. Helga immediately ran to Godric and began helping him up. Rowena rounded on Salazar. "What's happening?" she demanded. "You two fighting like schoolboys-"
"Be silent," Salazar commanded. "I have no wish to deal with you." His eyes turned to Helga and his cold smile turned almost affectionate. "Well-played, Helga. Most impressive... I have no wish to deal with you either." His form shimmered and he disappeared.
Rowena frowned. "What happened? I mean, not that I'm not glad he's gone, because I am-"
"Just a difference of opinion, dear," Helga said, looking mystified as to what she'd done that so impressed the wizard who'd just left. "I don't think we've heard the last of Salazar Slytherin."
"He's really gone..." Godric whispered, surprised. "I didn't mean for it to end like this-"
"Well, my heavens, dear, no one's dead, the school's still standing, and three out of four isn't bad so where's the harm?" Helga smiled warmly. "What we all need is a good cup of tea while we figure out what happens next. And it just so happens that I have a pot brewing in my rooms...."
Rowena laughed, and after a moment, Godric joined her. He shook his head. "That's your solution to everything...."
To be concluded in Chapter 5: Tomb of Days! Plus, an author's note apologizing for this entire story!!