Remus attempted to concentrate on the vault number. Hard task when other things are on your mind. Molly walked beside him and zipped up her coat. The December wind bit into their cheeks.
"What's the vault that Dumbledore wanted us to open?"
"It's ...197B"
"Hmm. Do you know why he's sent us for this?"
"I'm not too sure, actually. He said there were some important documents he needed to go over inside. He never gets too specific. He did say that we might go over them first, if we liked...together."
Remus became mute.
She's married. She's happy. Put your feelings in a box.
They entered Gringotts, greeted by the bustling of Goblins and other wizards going about their own business.
"Vault 197B, please," Molly said briskly to the goblin behind the counter.
The goblin wore a nametag that read 'Grendyln'. He looked Molly up and down, slightly mistrustful, but then seemed to catch a glimpse of Remus and grudgingly nodded.
"Griphook!"
Griphook came hobbling out from a doorway and motioned to Remus and Molly to follow. He led the way inside a cavern to a particularly dingy cart, and they sat. "Vault 197B!" Griphook recited loudly and clearly, and the cart took off.
Remus wrung his hands. Molly smiled at him from across the cart that was rattling and jolting along the track. His insides lurched. But not because of the cart, although that was enough to make anyone's insides lurch.
The cart jerked to a stop. Griphook helped the two out of the rusty cart and led the way to a wall that appeared solid, although both of them knew better than to think so. He ran one of his intriguing fingers along the rough stone wall in a pattern, and the door simply melted away. The vault wasn't full, there was only a simple handwritten roll of parchment. Remus nervously walked forward and picked it up. "Let's go." He said. He didn't want to stay longer than he had to. He didn't trust himself. Never trusted himself. After a bumpy cart ride back through the tunnels, they were once again making their way out of the bank.
"What is it?" Molly incquired. It was unorthodox for Dumbledore to request something to be picked up from Gringotts, he usually did such tasks himself. Remus looked down at the parchment at what appeared to be an extremely old diary. The parchment was yellowed and fragile, and the ink was blurred and smeared in places, although still legible. "It looks like...a diary..." Remus replied, slightly puzzled.
"Wha-Why would Dumbledore have us pick up a diary?" Molly retorted skeptically.
"I'm not entirely sure. Want to head into the Three Broomsticks and look it over?"
-That wasn't supposed to come out, Remus, You idiot, you can look it over when you get back to Number 12...- INot just with you and Molly, though/I
"Sure. It's freezing out here anyway." Molly replied, and Remus could see she was shivering beneath her coat.
They entered the Three Broomsticks, the warm air pleasant on their pink, windblown cheeks. It smelled of spices and butterbeer. Madam Pomfrey showed them to an empty table for two. "A little cold, eh?" She commented offhandedly.
"I'm fine, thanks." Remus was already starting the manuscript. He collapsed into a chair beside Molly.
-This can't be true. It just can't be. How are we the first ones to find this? Why would Dumbledore not make use of this knowledge somehow, had he known?-
He was staring, staring at what he now knew to be a diary, Molly peering over, dumfounded as well. This was a diary. The diary of Salazar Slytherin.
Tuesday, November 16 No. Evil is not my cup of tea. And you'd never guess it wasn't so, if you saw me, heard about me. But it's not. How nice it is to know you've fooled everyone, how pleasant to repress things. Why haven't they noticed? Why haven't they cared enough to see that I'm never asleep? Why haven't they asked why I haven't been eating lately, why don't they care? Am I that cold? Nevermind. I know the answer. I'm always cold. I'm cold as death, I am death. No one cares, but sometimes I just want to scream it.
I'm not like anyone else. I need to be around others that feel the same way, have similar problems. This IS what the basis of my house should be. No one with undead tendencies or unusual differences can get along with perfect people, who don't have to close their eyes at night and wish they could sleep. Who don't have to go into hiding every month as so they will be harmless to others. Who don't have to pretend every day. This IS Slytherin.
Thursday, December 9 I have to leave. I have to go. I can't stay at Hogwarts anymore. I have to go somewhere where I can be among my own, where I don't have to lie. I've staged a perfectly appropriate fight with Godric, claiming that Purebloods are the only worthy ones, when I know well thats his pet irritation. I feel guilty. But I have to go. Godric's idea for a 'Sorting Hat' was a brilliant one. I've given the intructions to the Hat. I can only hope that somehow people might realize the truth. I wish I could clear the air, tell everyone about my plan, but I can't. I just can't stand it anymore.
Both Remus and Molly sat, staring dumbfoundedly at this information. Neither knew what to say. Suddenly Remus stood. "Come on," He said gruffly to Molly, and quickly made his way out of the pub. A burst of frigid air entered the building as they exited.
"What is it, Remus?" Molly hurried to catch up, quickly re-zipping her coat.
"Don't you see? We have to let this get out as soon as possible. Salazar's whole idea for a house has gone, and people are still under the illusion that Slytherin is the quote unquote evil, pureblood house. This is causing Hogwart's demise, Dumbledore's been saying it himself, this has been a problem for years!"
"But what good is the real purpose going to do? I mean, the Slytherins will all be ashamed to be in the house that they are in, and all of them will have to confess their powers or disabilities. I suppose that the other houses would be kinder towards them, and loads more tolerant, and..."
A look of sudden enlightenment brightened Molly's eyes, and Remus stared into them. The eyes he'd gotten lost in so many times, with her oblivious to the fact.
"Exactly."