A/N: Sorry no updates in a while; I was on a whirlwind tour of the southwestern United States (California, Nevada, and Arizona) for the last ten days. Lots of driving. Yech. However, in between memorizing spiel from 'Hamlet' ("To be or not to be...") and trying to solve my Rubik's Cube as fast as possible (Under two minutes! Yeah!), I wrote five and a half chapters of this story and one chapter for another. Go me. But enough about that. Gryffindor's death is pretty much explained in full here, and Voldemort and Slytherin make an appearance. I bet you thought I'd forgotten about them. ^_^ Okay, I'm done. You may read now.
~~~
CHAPTER SEVEN: ISSUES
~~~
Albus Dumbledore couldn't believe his ears. Dead? Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel were dead? So it had finally happened... he knew they would die eventually, and in a way he was surprised that they had lasted this long, but why did it have to happen now, when they needed Flamel more than ever? Dumbledore felt numb. Flamel was one of his oldest and dearest friends. Losing him was like losing a brother.
He wanted to react to the news somehow, but all he could do was stand there with a blank look on his face. None of the others, save for the elf, knew Flamel intimately enough to be as hurt by his death as Dumbledore was, but regardless, they were all in a state of shock as well, though nowhere near as intensely as the headmaster. Buckle continued to weep silently. The Flamels had always treated her well, and the loss of her benevolent owners was devastating.
Dumbledore felt someone's hand on his shoulder, and when he saw that it belonged to Minerva, he covered it with his and gripped it tightly. He took a deep breath, and then said, "Buckle?"
The elf sniffed and wiped her eyes. "Yes, Master Dumbledore?"
"You are welcome to stay here at Hogwarts if you like."
Buckle began crying again. "Master Dumbledore is so kind to Buckle! Thank you!"
Dumbledore sighed and let his hand fall back down to waist level. He didn't let go of Minerva's hand, though; nor did she let go of him. "Nicolas was very old," he said. "The spell must have pushed him over the edge. I'm sure he knew it would. Let this be a lesson to all of us. Nicolas Flamel gave his life so that we could have the strength to counter our enemy. We must not fail him."
"I will not kill my brother," said Gryffindor.
"He does not have to die to be stopped," Minerva said.
"That's right," Dumbledore agreed. "If we can capture him and hold him in our custody, that may suffice."
"It won't be easy," said Helga.
"Of course it won't," Rowena said. "It will be impossible. Salazar is too powerful. His conviction to his beliefs is stronger than you know, Professors. If this Voldemort is half as powerful as you say he is, and he convinces Salazar to help him, the world is doomed."
"What happened to optimisim?" asked Harry. "Let's try to have a little faith here, people."
"She's right," said Gryffindor.
Harry looked at Gryffindor. "What, you too?"
"But so is Professor Dumbledore," Gryffindor continued. "They will come no matter what we do. If we face them, then there is the chance that we will succeed. If we run, then we have already lost." He glanced at Rowena briefly before resuming his speech. "If we die, we can die with honor, knowing that we at least tried to save our world and the ones we love."
"Excuse me," Rowena said quietly, and began walking away.
Helga started to follow her, but Gryffindor placed his hand on her arm to stop her before she could get far. "Let her go," he said. "She's not ready yet. She needs more time."
"We don't have time," Hermione pointed out, and Harry and Ron nodded in agreement.
"She's right, Godric," Helga said. "We need every second we have."
"Why is she acting like this, anyway?" asked Ron.
Gryffindor sighed, and his eyes gazed mindlessly at the floor. "It's my fault," he said. "We spoke last night, and she told me what happened, how she died a week after I did... she said I should not have interfered."
"Interfered with what?" asked Harry.
Gryffindor was too busy struggling with inner conflicts to hear Harry's question. "What was I supposed to do?" he asked. "Let her die? Let our children die?" He sighed again, then said, "I wish I could have known what they were like."
Following his statement, Helga, in a voice so soft it was barely audible, said, "I can tell you that."
Gryffindor stared at her, and she said, slightly louder, "The person that found the girls after Rowena's death was Daniel. We raised them. I had no idea they were your children until last night, or that you and Rowena were even married, for that matter."
"We would have told you if we could," Gryffindor said.
Helga nodded. "Yes, I know, and I understand. Out of curiosity, though, how long were you two married before you died?"
"Three years."
Ron whistled softly. "Wow. If I ever need a secret kept, can I tell it to you?"
That made everyone smile in spite of the situation. "I'm sure your friends would be more than happy to keep your secret, Ron," Gryffindor said.
"But Harry and Hermione already know everything there is to know about me, so there's really no point," said Ron. "Besides, when you have five older brothers, you don't have any secrets. I'm just saying, you know, if."
"I'll speak to Rowena," Minerva offered. "Maybe I can talk some sense into her."
"Can she do it?" Gryffindor asked hopefully, looking at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore watched Minerva go, and then said, "Well, my friend, she can certainly try."
~~~
It didn't take Minerva long to catch up to Rowena. The founder of Ravenclaw house hadn't gone far, and now stood next to a large stained-glass window about three hallways down. As she approached, Rowena glanced over her shoulder and said, "Hello, Professor McGonagall."
"You can call me Minerva," the other woman said.
"Hello, Minerva," said Rowena.
"That's better," Minerva said. "Now, with all due respect, Lady Ravenclaw, what the hell is your problem?"
Minerva almost couldn't believe she just said those words, but it was too late to take them back now. Rowena appeared slightly surprised as well, but answered the question. "I won't pretend that I don't know what you're talking about," she said, "but I'm afraid my reasons will not make sense to you."
"Try me," Minerva said dryly.
Rowena sighed and gazed at the window. "It's not as simple as it may seem," she said. "I was sixteen when the four of us founded Hogwarts. There were only four people in the world that didn't think I was a stupid child that was too young to be considered one of the most powerful figures in the magical community: Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, and Daniel Flamel. They meant everything to me. They were the only ones that took me seriously. I loved them all dearly."
"But one more than the others," Minerva interjected.
Rowena nodded. "Yes, one more than the others. It was crazy for me to fall in love with him. He was so much older than me, and besides, I was bethrothed to a man named Gordon Delaney at birth. I didn't think there was any way we could be together until Godric came to me one night with some shocking news: he'd been to see Delaney, and Delaney was in love with another as well and wished to marry her. It didn't take the four of us long to think of a solution. It would bring shame upon our families if Delaney and I maried others, so we agreed that I would marry Godric and Delaney would marry Elaine in secret, and when the time came, Delaney and I would stage a wedding and stay with our true loves away from the eyes of the world."
Minerva thought about asking why Rowena and Delaney didn't just come out and say that they didn't want to marry each other, but then remembered that society was much different back then, and kept silent.
Rowena continued. "About a year after Hogwarts was founded, Helga and Daniel were married. That same night, the man that married them performed the ceremony for Delaney and Elaine and Godric and myself. He was the only other that knew of our plans."
"And who was that man?" Minerva asked.
Rowena's answer was so soft that Minerva could barely hear it. "Salazar Slytherin."
"Well, that explains a lot, but not why you're so angry with Godric."
"Do you know how he died?"
"Yes. Kedelor killed him."
"Kedelor wasn't trying to kill Godric. He was trying to kill me."
Minerva couldn't believe her ears. "What?"
Rowena nodded. "I defeated Kedelor's Nundu, and he was so angry that he said he was going to kill me himself. He cast the Killing Curse, and right as the words 'Avada Kedavra' were leaving his lips, Godric jumped in front of me. I don't know why Kedelor didn't kill me then. I don't even remember him leaving. The only thing I could think about was Godric. He was dead, and if it weren't for me, he would have still been alive."
"You're right; it doesn't make sense to me," a very confused Minerva said. "Your husband died for you, and you thank him by rejecting him?"
"I am doing him a favor," Rowena replied. "Yes, we loved each other. We loved each other so much that in the end, it destroyed both of us. He gave his life to save mine. I could not live without him, but believe me, I tried. Love only leads to destruction."
"How can you say that?" Minerva asked. "He loved you more than anything in the world! He still does! Love like that is rare. You are lucky enough to have it, and yet you discard it like-"
"Like Godric discarded his life?" Rowena interrupted.
By now, Minerva was nearly shouting. "Would you have done the same for him?"
Tears swelled up in Rowena's eyes, and in a weary, choked voice, she gave her answer. "Yes."
"Then you are a hypocrite for rejecting him for something you would have done yourself."
"That may be so, but his death was in vain. I died a week later."
"But your children lived."
"No thanks to me."
"Listen to me, Rowena," Minerva said. "Stop hating yourself for what happened. That won't change anything. You've been given a second chance. Take it. If you love him as much as I know you do, take it. I would."
A small smile of irony played across Rowena's lips. "Now who's the hypocrite?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Minerva said, even though she did.
Rowena almost laughed. "Please. I can tell. You look at Albus Dumbledore the same way I look at Godric Gryffindor."
Minerva opened her mouth to protest, but Rowena cut her off. "Let me make a deal with you," she said. "You want me to happy. I want you to be happy. I will apologize to Godric if and when you tell Professor Dumbledore how you feel about him." She smiled, and then added, "Don't worry; he loves you, too."
"If you say so, but if I may ask, how did you know?"
Her smile grew wider. "You're my descendant, remember?"
~~~
While Minerva and Rowena were having their heart-to-heart, their counterparts, Albus Dumbledore and Godric Gryffindor, were also deep in discussion. Helga and the three students from Gryffindor house had gone to breakfast to allow Dumbledore and Gryffindor to talk in private. The two of them went back up to Dumbledore's office, and there, Gryffindor told his story.
What Gryffindor said to Dumbledore wasn't much different from what Rowena told Minerva. He told him how no one believed her competence because she was so young, how he never believed she would return his love for her because of the difference in their ages, how he and Delaney came up with a way for everyone to be happy, how Slytherin was in on the plan, and how he died to save her. Questions arose in Dumbledore's mind as Gryffindor spoke, but he waited until the story was finished to ask them.
"Rowena is angry with me for sacrificing myself for her," Gryffindor said. "I believed it was for the best. I had no idea my death would destroy her like it did, but it wasn't like I had a choice."
"She could not live without you," Dumbledore said. "Not even your children could keep her alive."
"Was this meant to happen?" Gryffindor asked. "Were our children meant to live so that Rowena and I could be reunited, so Helga could finally know the truth, and so Salazar could be saved?"
Dumbledore hadn't even thought of that. "I don't believe in fate to a great extent, but since you're all here, why not?"
Gryffindor smiled, then sighed and said, "I hope Rowena will forgive me for abandoning her, but I was not going to let her and our children die."
"I'm sure Minerva will get her to come around. She's descended from the two of you, you know, and I can see a lot of Rowena in her."
Gryffindor chuckled softly and said, "Yes, so can I."
Dumbledore decided to ask one of the questions that had come to mind when Gryffindor was telling his story. "You mentioned an age difference between you and Rowena. How old was she when you two were married?"
"Seventeen."
"Indeed. And how old were you?"
"Thirty-nine."
"Twenty-two years," Dumbledore said, doing the math in his head. Then he said, mostly to himself, "That's not as much as..."
Gryffindor caught on at once. "You're in love with Minerva McGonagall, aren't you? How much younger is she than you?"
"Eighty-one years, seven months, and twenty-six days, and what makes you think I'm in love with her?"
"The way you two look at each other, for starters," Gryffindor answered. "Secondly, you seem more at ease around her, and I also noticed that when the elf told us about the Flamels, she put her hand on your shoulder, and you two didn't let go of each other until she left to follow Rowena." He glanced at Fawkes, then added, "And Fawkes told me."
Dumbledore cast the phoenix a sideways look and arched one of his bushy white eyebrows. "See if I ever confide in you again, Fawkes."
Fawkes chirped, and Gryffindor laughed.
Dumbledore sighed and looked at Gryffindor. "Dare I ask?"
"'It was for your own good'," Gryffindor translated, "and I must say that I agree with him. Tell Minerva how you feel. I'm certain she feels the same way about you, and then you can both be happy."
"Really?"
He nodded. "Really."
~~~
Ever since the resurrection, Voldemort had been bringing Slytherin up to speed on the major things that had happened since his death centuries ago. The going was slow, as Slytherin asked many questions. Voldemort hadn't even realized how much he knew about history until this conversation with his ancestor. It took days of "history lessons" before Slytherin was satisfied, but he finally had enough, and they could move on to other things. Voldemort was most interested in figuring out a way to tkae Hogwarts. That was what they were doing right now in an old cabin not far from where Slytherin had been resurrected: making plans.
"This is the most recent map I have of Hogwarts," Voldemort said, and unrolled a scroll on the table before them, "courtesy of Mr. Lucius Malfoy. It's a little over five years old. There's a secret passage on this side, right-"
"I prefer a direct approach," Slytherin interrupted, gazing at the map. "Is the Basilisk still in the Chamber of Secrets?"
Voldemort shook his head. "No. The Basilisk is dead."
Slytherin stiffened. "What?"
"It was five years ago," Voldemort said. "I tried to kill the Muggle-borns, and succeeded in Petrifying several, but I was stopped before I could fulfill my destiny, and the Basilisk was killed."
Slytherin cringed at the word "Muggle-born", and Voldemort noticed this. "Out of curiosity," he said, "have you just always hated Muggles, or was there a specific reason for it?"
Slytherin sighed and began tracing random lines on the map with his finger. "Muggles were not meant to have magical ability," he said. "In their hands, it can never be used properly. In fact, it is downright dangerous, and a threat to the true wizards. It is our duty to protect our world by cleansing it of the Muggles. They have their world to corrupt and destroy. They do not need ours as well."
"Indeed." Voldemort didn't share Slytherin's philosophical views, but for the time being, he would play along. Once Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter were out of the way, he would have no more use for Slytherin, and he could be eliminated. Voldemort shared power with no one, not even Salazar Slytherin.
"But there is also a 'specific reason'," Slytherin said.
"There is?" Voldemort asked.
"Yes." Slytherin's eyes were narrowed, and his voice was filled with contempt. It was the most evil Voldemort had seen him look so far. "It was a Muggle-born wizard that murdered my brother."
~~~
CHAPTER SEVEN: ISSUES
~~~
Albus Dumbledore couldn't believe his ears. Dead? Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel were dead? So it had finally happened... he knew they would die eventually, and in a way he was surprised that they had lasted this long, but why did it have to happen now, when they needed Flamel more than ever? Dumbledore felt numb. Flamel was one of his oldest and dearest friends. Losing him was like losing a brother.
He wanted to react to the news somehow, but all he could do was stand there with a blank look on his face. None of the others, save for the elf, knew Flamel intimately enough to be as hurt by his death as Dumbledore was, but regardless, they were all in a state of shock as well, though nowhere near as intensely as the headmaster. Buckle continued to weep silently. The Flamels had always treated her well, and the loss of her benevolent owners was devastating.
Dumbledore felt someone's hand on his shoulder, and when he saw that it belonged to Minerva, he covered it with his and gripped it tightly. He took a deep breath, and then said, "Buckle?"
The elf sniffed and wiped her eyes. "Yes, Master Dumbledore?"
"You are welcome to stay here at Hogwarts if you like."
Buckle began crying again. "Master Dumbledore is so kind to Buckle! Thank you!"
Dumbledore sighed and let his hand fall back down to waist level. He didn't let go of Minerva's hand, though; nor did she let go of him. "Nicolas was very old," he said. "The spell must have pushed him over the edge. I'm sure he knew it would. Let this be a lesson to all of us. Nicolas Flamel gave his life so that we could have the strength to counter our enemy. We must not fail him."
"I will not kill my brother," said Gryffindor.
"He does not have to die to be stopped," Minerva said.
"That's right," Dumbledore agreed. "If we can capture him and hold him in our custody, that may suffice."
"It won't be easy," said Helga.
"Of course it won't," Rowena said. "It will be impossible. Salazar is too powerful. His conviction to his beliefs is stronger than you know, Professors. If this Voldemort is half as powerful as you say he is, and he convinces Salazar to help him, the world is doomed."
"What happened to optimisim?" asked Harry. "Let's try to have a little faith here, people."
"She's right," said Gryffindor.
Harry looked at Gryffindor. "What, you too?"
"But so is Professor Dumbledore," Gryffindor continued. "They will come no matter what we do. If we face them, then there is the chance that we will succeed. If we run, then we have already lost." He glanced at Rowena briefly before resuming his speech. "If we die, we can die with honor, knowing that we at least tried to save our world and the ones we love."
"Excuse me," Rowena said quietly, and began walking away.
Helga started to follow her, but Gryffindor placed his hand on her arm to stop her before she could get far. "Let her go," he said. "She's not ready yet. She needs more time."
"We don't have time," Hermione pointed out, and Harry and Ron nodded in agreement.
"She's right, Godric," Helga said. "We need every second we have."
"Why is she acting like this, anyway?" asked Ron.
Gryffindor sighed, and his eyes gazed mindlessly at the floor. "It's my fault," he said. "We spoke last night, and she told me what happened, how she died a week after I did... she said I should not have interfered."
"Interfered with what?" asked Harry.
Gryffindor was too busy struggling with inner conflicts to hear Harry's question. "What was I supposed to do?" he asked. "Let her die? Let our children die?" He sighed again, then said, "I wish I could have known what they were like."
Following his statement, Helga, in a voice so soft it was barely audible, said, "I can tell you that."
Gryffindor stared at her, and she said, slightly louder, "The person that found the girls after Rowena's death was Daniel. We raised them. I had no idea they were your children until last night, or that you and Rowena were even married, for that matter."
"We would have told you if we could," Gryffindor said.
Helga nodded. "Yes, I know, and I understand. Out of curiosity, though, how long were you two married before you died?"
"Three years."
Ron whistled softly. "Wow. If I ever need a secret kept, can I tell it to you?"
That made everyone smile in spite of the situation. "I'm sure your friends would be more than happy to keep your secret, Ron," Gryffindor said.
"But Harry and Hermione already know everything there is to know about me, so there's really no point," said Ron. "Besides, when you have five older brothers, you don't have any secrets. I'm just saying, you know, if."
"I'll speak to Rowena," Minerva offered. "Maybe I can talk some sense into her."
"Can she do it?" Gryffindor asked hopefully, looking at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore watched Minerva go, and then said, "Well, my friend, she can certainly try."
~~~
It didn't take Minerva long to catch up to Rowena. The founder of Ravenclaw house hadn't gone far, and now stood next to a large stained-glass window about three hallways down. As she approached, Rowena glanced over her shoulder and said, "Hello, Professor McGonagall."
"You can call me Minerva," the other woman said.
"Hello, Minerva," said Rowena.
"That's better," Minerva said. "Now, with all due respect, Lady Ravenclaw, what the hell is your problem?"
Minerva almost couldn't believe she just said those words, but it was too late to take them back now. Rowena appeared slightly surprised as well, but answered the question. "I won't pretend that I don't know what you're talking about," she said, "but I'm afraid my reasons will not make sense to you."
"Try me," Minerva said dryly.
Rowena sighed and gazed at the window. "It's not as simple as it may seem," she said. "I was sixteen when the four of us founded Hogwarts. There were only four people in the world that didn't think I was a stupid child that was too young to be considered one of the most powerful figures in the magical community: Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, and Daniel Flamel. They meant everything to me. They were the only ones that took me seriously. I loved them all dearly."
"But one more than the others," Minerva interjected.
Rowena nodded. "Yes, one more than the others. It was crazy for me to fall in love with him. He was so much older than me, and besides, I was bethrothed to a man named Gordon Delaney at birth. I didn't think there was any way we could be together until Godric came to me one night with some shocking news: he'd been to see Delaney, and Delaney was in love with another as well and wished to marry her. It didn't take the four of us long to think of a solution. It would bring shame upon our families if Delaney and I maried others, so we agreed that I would marry Godric and Delaney would marry Elaine in secret, and when the time came, Delaney and I would stage a wedding and stay with our true loves away from the eyes of the world."
Minerva thought about asking why Rowena and Delaney didn't just come out and say that they didn't want to marry each other, but then remembered that society was much different back then, and kept silent.
Rowena continued. "About a year after Hogwarts was founded, Helga and Daniel were married. That same night, the man that married them performed the ceremony for Delaney and Elaine and Godric and myself. He was the only other that knew of our plans."
"And who was that man?" Minerva asked.
Rowena's answer was so soft that Minerva could barely hear it. "Salazar Slytherin."
"Well, that explains a lot, but not why you're so angry with Godric."
"Do you know how he died?"
"Yes. Kedelor killed him."
"Kedelor wasn't trying to kill Godric. He was trying to kill me."
Minerva couldn't believe her ears. "What?"
Rowena nodded. "I defeated Kedelor's Nundu, and he was so angry that he said he was going to kill me himself. He cast the Killing Curse, and right as the words 'Avada Kedavra' were leaving his lips, Godric jumped in front of me. I don't know why Kedelor didn't kill me then. I don't even remember him leaving. The only thing I could think about was Godric. He was dead, and if it weren't for me, he would have still been alive."
"You're right; it doesn't make sense to me," a very confused Minerva said. "Your husband died for you, and you thank him by rejecting him?"
"I am doing him a favor," Rowena replied. "Yes, we loved each other. We loved each other so much that in the end, it destroyed both of us. He gave his life to save mine. I could not live without him, but believe me, I tried. Love only leads to destruction."
"How can you say that?" Minerva asked. "He loved you more than anything in the world! He still does! Love like that is rare. You are lucky enough to have it, and yet you discard it like-"
"Like Godric discarded his life?" Rowena interrupted.
By now, Minerva was nearly shouting. "Would you have done the same for him?"
Tears swelled up in Rowena's eyes, and in a weary, choked voice, she gave her answer. "Yes."
"Then you are a hypocrite for rejecting him for something you would have done yourself."
"That may be so, but his death was in vain. I died a week later."
"But your children lived."
"No thanks to me."
"Listen to me, Rowena," Minerva said. "Stop hating yourself for what happened. That won't change anything. You've been given a second chance. Take it. If you love him as much as I know you do, take it. I would."
A small smile of irony played across Rowena's lips. "Now who's the hypocrite?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Minerva said, even though she did.
Rowena almost laughed. "Please. I can tell. You look at Albus Dumbledore the same way I look at Godric Gryffindor."
Minerva opened her mouth to protest, but Rowena cut her off. "Let me make a deal with you," she said. "You want me to happy. I want you to be happy. I will apologize to Godric if and when you tell Professor Dumbledore how you feel about him." She smiled, and then added, "Don't worry; he loves you, too."
"If you say so, but if I may ask, how did you know?"
Her smile grew wider. "You're my descendant, remember?"
~~~
While Minerva and Rowena were having their heart-to-heart, their counterparts, Albus Dumbledore and Godric Gryffindor, were also deep in discussion. Helga and the three students from Gryffindor house had gone to breakfast to allow Dumbledore and Gryffindor to talk in private. The two of them went back up to Dumbledore's office, and there, Gryffindor told his story.
What Gryffindor said to Dumbledore wasn't much different from what Rowena told Minerva. He told him how no one believed her competence because she was so young, how he never believed she would return his love for her because of the difference in their ages, how he and Delaney came up with a way for everyone to be happy, how Slytherin was in on the plan, and how he died to save her. Questions arose in Dumbledore's mind as Gryffindor spoke, but he waited until the story was finished to ask them.
"Rowena is angry with me for sacrificing myself for her," Gryffindor said. "I believed it was for the best. I had no idea my death would destroy her like it did, but it wasn't like I had a choice."
"She could not live without you," Dumbledore said. "Not even your children could keep her alive."
"Was this meant to happen?" Gryffindor asked. "Were our children meant to live so that Rowena and I could be reunited, so Helga could finally know the truth, and so Salazar could be saved?"
Dumbledore hadn't even thought of that. "I don't believe in fate to a great extent, but since you're all here, why not?"
Gryffindor smiled, then sighed and said, "I hope Rowena will forgive me for abandoning her, but I was not going to let her and our children die."
"I'm sure Minerva will get her to come around. She's descended from the two of you, you know, and I can see a lot of Rowena in her."
Gryffindor chuckled softly and said, "Yes, so can I."
Dumbledore decided to ask one of the questions that had come to mind when Gryffindor was telling his story. "You mentioned an age difference between you and Rowena. How old was she when you two were married?"
"Seventeen."
"Indeed. And how old were you?"
"Thirty-nine."
"Twenty-two years," Dumbledore said, doing the math in his head. Then he said, mostly to himself, "That's not as much as..."
Gryffindor caught on at once. "You're in love with Minerva McGonagall, aren't you? How much younger is she than you?"
"Eighty-one years, seven months, and twenty-six days, and what makes you think I'm in love with her?"
"The way you two look at each other, for starters," Gryffindor answered. "Secondly, you seem more at ease around her, and I also noticed that when the elf told us about the Flamels, she put her hand on your shoulder, and you two didn't let go of each other until she left to follow Rowena." He glanced at Fawkes, then added, "And Fawkes told me."
Dumbledore cast the phoenix a sideways look and arched one of his bushy white eyebrows. "See if I ever confide in you again, Fawkes."
Fawkes chirped, and Gryffindor laughed.
Dumbledore sighed and looked at Gryffindor. "Dare I ask?"
"'It was for your own good'," Gryffindor translated, "and I must say that I agree with him. Tell Minerva how you feel. I'm certain she feels the same way about you, and then you can both be happy."
"Really?"
He nodded. "Really."
~~~
Ever since the resurrection, Voldemort had been bringing Slytherin up to speed on the major things that had happened since his death centuries ago. The going was slow, as Slytherin asked many questions. Voldemort hadn't even realized how much he knew about history until this conversation with his ancestor. It took days of "history lessons" before Slytherin was satisfied, but he finally had enough, and they could move on to other things. Voldemort was most interested in figuring out a way to tkae Hogwarts. That was what they were doing right now in an old cabin not far from where Slytherin had been resurrected: making plans.
"This is the most recent map I have of Hogwarts," Voldemort said, and unrolled a scroll on the table before them, "courtesy of Mr. Lucius Malfoy. It's a little over five years old. There's a secret passage on this side, right-"
"I prefer a direct approach," Slytherin interrupted, gazing at the map. "Is the Basilisk still in the Chamber of Secrets?"
Voldemort shook his head. "No. The Basilisk is dead."
Slytherin stiffened. "What?"
"It was five years ago," Voldemort said. "I tried to kill the Muggle-borns, and succeeded in Petrifying several, but I was stopped before I could fulfill my destiny, and the Basilisk was killed."
Slytherin cringed at the word "Muggle-born", and Voldemort noticed this. "Out of curiosity," he said, "have you just always hated Muggles, or was there a specific reason for it?"
Slytherin sighed and began tracing random lines on the map with his finger. "Muggles were not meant to have magical ability," he said. "In their hands, it can never be used properly. In fact, it is downright dangerous, and a threat to the true wizards. It is our duty to protect our world by cleansing it of the Muggles. They have their world to corrupt and destroy. They do not need ours as well."
"Indeed." Voldemort didn't share Slytherin's philosophical views, but for the time being, he would play along. Once Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter were out of the way, he would have no more use for Slytherin, and he could be eliminated. Voldemort shared power with no one, not even Salazar Slytherin.
"But there is also a 'specific reason'," Slytherin said.
"There is?" Voldemort asked.
"Yes." Slytherin's eyes were narrowed, and his voice was filled with contempt. It was the most evil Voldemort had seen him look so far. "It was a Muggle-born wizard that murdered my brother."