Chapter One,
Ill met by Firelight…
Hogwarts, 1992
…the whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns' every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his. Harry could tell he was completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest.
Oh, this is going to be tricky. Remember what Rowena said: 'Don't incriminate yourself, Henry Binns. Stick to what everyone else knows and make up your own mind later.'
"Oh very well," he said slowly. 'Let me see…the Chamber of Secrets…
"You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago—the precise date—
September 1st, 817. It was a Tuesday; I remember it like it was yesterday…
-is uncertain—by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor…
…brave at heart…daring, nerve and… chivalry? Doesn't sound like the Godric I knew…still, three out of four isn't bad…
…Helga Hufflepuff…
…just and loyal. Those patient Hufflepuffs are true, and unafraid of toil…If that's true, why couldn't she have worked harder to convince Salazar to stay, instead of doing…what she did…
…Rowena Ravenclaw…
…wise old Ravenclaw…a ready mind…wit and learning…all true. Except Rowena wasn't old…she was barely a child…
…and Salazar Slytherin.
…use any means to achieve their ends…yes, the Chamber of Secrets will doubtless fulfil Salazar's desires...its only a thousand years late…
They built this castle together…
…it took them almost three months, according to Helga, even with magic…
…far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people and witches and wizards suffered much persecution."
Oh, Merlin. Those four were the greatest, they were incredible…how do I say this without giving too much away?
He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued,
"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor…
…it's what they want to hear. It's what they know…I'm not lying, I'm just honouring Godric's wishes…
…and…
…don't hesitate, they'll know you're lying…that Granger girl looks like she knows too much already…
…Slytherin left the school."
Henry Binns sat at his desk long after his second year class had left. He couldn't stop thinking about the old days. He hadn't thought about them in nearly nine hundred years, which was strange, considering he was a History teacher and spent his life—and his death—talking about nothing but old days. But this was different. This was his old days…and nine hundred years suddenly seemed like an awfully long time…
Camelot, A.D. 812
Godric surveyed the rubble with disgust. A magnificent castle had once stood before him, with a clear moat and strong drawbridge, airy balconies and beautiful fireplaces in bedrooms, with warm sheets upon which various young maidens had lost their virginity…. Now it was little more than a midden.
Bloody muggles.
Godric shifted in his saddle, unsure what to do. This castle, what was left of it, had been his home. He was tired, hungry from riding all day and it was nearing sunset. He scowled as he thought of his conversation with Salazar earlier this morning…
"Godric, it is a folly if I ever heard one! We will be dining at the castle before midday if we ride brooms. If we take horses we can't expect to be home before tomorrow!" Godric had eyed the crude, uneven broomstick with distaste.
"Salazar, I would rather my backside remain devoid of sores and boils than my stomach be allowed food a measly few hours earlier. Besides, Rigel is a strong and fast steed, I will doubtless arrive at Camelot just as fast as I would on that old twig!"
"I'll hold you to that, Sir Gryffindor!" Salazar laughed, mounting his broomstick. "Whosoever returns to the castle first may bed the fair Lady Louisa. The loser must reveal how many children he has sired in the last decade." Godric had laughed at the absurd wager.
"Sir Slytherin, I shall see you at dinner!"
Where Salazar was now was a complete mystery to Godric. As was the reason why he was now homeless. He had considered simply rebuilding the castle magically, but Camelot was a muggle kingdom; the only other genuine wizard (there were many who fancied themselves seers or potion makers; in truth they were lunatics) aside from Salazar and himself, was Merlin, the King's adviser. To attempt such a transformation on a pile of rubble that had already been seen by half the kingdom would be unwise.
There had once been a friar who was evidently magical, but he had passed away from an excess of food. His ghost remained, in search of more pleasures of the table, and Godric enjoyed talking to the spirit on occasion.
Now, Godric realized with a jolt, the same fate may have befallen Salazar. He didn't like the idea of his best friend being a transparent shell of his former self.
A sound of crashing stone distracted him from his thoughts. He turned Rigel in the direction of the noise, and heaved a huge sigh of relief as he saw Salazar crawl out of what used to be the moat. He stood up with difficulty; soaked, bruised and sore. But alive. Godric watched, rather amused, as Salazar stamped and kicked the broken drawbridge, cursing (not literally…he appeared to be missing his wand) under his breath. He didn't seem to realize that he was being watched by not only Godric, but by several onlookers, including a few from the king's palace. He picked up half a broomstick and discarded it. Godric laughed aloud in spite of himself, and Salazar turned to face him with a look of surprise. Quickly followed by contempt.
"Having trouble noble knight?" Godric mocked, leaning forward in his saddle.
"Godric. How nice to see you. Have you seen my wand…er…" he shot a sideways glance at the group of muggles who were listening, "...I mean my…little twig?" Godric and the crowd laughed, uncontrollably. Salazar glared and gave the drawbridge another hearty kick. Some of it fell away to reveal…
"My WAND!" Salazar almost screamed. Godric stopped laughing, but the crowd were too loud to have heard. He trotted over to Salazar, his horse picking his way carefully through the debris.
"Salazar not so loud…oh." His face fell as Salazar produced his wand. It was in pieces, and bits of snake skin were sticking out of either end. Godric felt immediate empathy for Salazar as a fellow wizard, knowing himself how much a wand meant. Salazar's fingers were trembling and his eyes were beginning to glow. Godric knew that look well, and started to steer Salazar away before he caused any damage.
"What is going on here?" Salazar heard the low tone of his lord and sovereign, King Arthur from behind him.
Arrogant, precocious little brat…just because he pulled a sword out of a rock…WHICH WOULD'T HAVE HAPPENED if Merlin hadn't been muttering counter spells every time someone else had a go…
"Your Majesty," Godric said, dismounting his horse and bowing low. Salazar did the same, hastily shoving his wand—all three pieces of it—into Rigel's saddle bag. "We do not know what happened, my lord. Sir Slytherin and I arrived home only moments ago to this." Godric gestured to the mess behind him, not turning his back on Arthur for an instant. Salazar fought the urge to roll his eyes and snort; Godric respected Arthur in a way Salazar did not agree with, could never agree with. Both he and Godric had tried to pull Excalibur out of the stone dozens of times, and each time they had felt Merlin blocking their efforts, both physical and magical. Then this child—this Muggle—had come along, yanked it out, and had been given a kingdom. He hadn't even reached puberty yet.
In Salazar's eyes, the young man looked ridiculous, sitting on his horse, playing at being king. To Godric, he was someone to be respected, watched over, and nurtured, until the day that he could rule alone. Merlin agreed that that Arthur deserved respect, but it was doubtful that he would ever let Arthur rule alone. Merlin would always be the power behind his throne. It surprised Salazar that Merlin hadn't thrown Arthur off the throne and claimed it for himself. However, a lot of things surprised Salazar, such as why he had lived in Camelot for so long; why he wasn't busy ruling the world…and why he liked Godric Gryffindor. Three mysteries of the universe that he had no time to unravel just now, because His Majesty was talking and Sir Slytherin must listen…
"…furthermore, I would like to be informed when my knights of the realm decide to take a holiday," Arthur said sharply. Salazar noticed Merlin was watching him and Godric from a distance.
"But my lord, Sir Slytherin and I were on a mission of great importance-"
"You have been gone for almost four months, Sir Grindelmore-"
"Gryffindor," Salazar intoned.
Arthur and Godric looked at Salazar with surprise. A flash of what might have been gratitude passed over Godric's face.
"I beg your pardon! Did you just interrupt your king Sir?" Arthur really wasn't any good at pretending to be regal. It just didn't suit him.
Salazar, on the other hand, played the part of regal superbly. He lifted his head defiantly, raising one eyebrow, and said loudly and clearly,
"His name is Gryffindor, young man. You'd do well to respect your elders." Godric looked down at the ground, embarrassed. In truth, Godric and Salazar were only two years Arthur's senior. "Furthermore, if you value the service of your knights of the realm so highly, it would do you some good to learn their names."
Without another word, Salazar turned and walked away, pulling Godric and Rigel along with him.
"Was that really necessary?" Godric asked, once they were out of earshot of Merlin, which was a considerably longer distance than the earshot of Arthur and the other muggles.
"Yes," Salazar said shortly. There was a pause.
"Thank you," Godric murmured gratefully. Salazar looked at him, superiorly, as he had looked at Arthur.
"I'd expect the same of you, Sir Grindelmore."
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>()
"Do you know, there's talk of a new way of travelling-through fireplaces? Something to do with powder, apparently." Salazar said as he and Godric walked along the uneven dirt-path of Diagon Alley, towards Ollivanders, the wand shop, at Salazar's insistence. He had been a little wary for the last few minutes, as if the loss of his wand had rendered him vulnerable.
"Fireplaces? Isn't that a little, well, dangerous?"
"Well I doubt the fire will be actually lit when one travels in it…or through it…or, oh, never mind. I think it's more like a gateway, but in any case, Fire-Ice Potions will take care of any flames. It'll never replace apparating."
"Yes, I think I recall you saying that horses would never replace broomsticks," Godric said in a bored tone.
"They haven't! Horses are an amusing pastime, but they aren't an adequate form of transport, Godric—"
"Neither are broomsticks."
"Oh, look, Rosalind Roserubb has published her latest manuscripts," he said, changing the subject, much to Godric's annoyance. Nonetheless, Godric peered at the parchment that advertised Roserubb's latest work, The Muddles of Marrying Muggles, before turning into the next shop along, Ollivanders.
"Ah, Sir Salazar, Sir Gryffindor. So nice to see you again." Mr Ollivander greeted them warmly. "Pray tell, which one of you fine gentlemen is in need of a wand?"
"I am." Salazar laid the bits of wand on the rough counter delicately, avoiding the splinters and woodworms.
"Oh dear," Mr Ollivander said disdainfully. "Pine, thirteen inches. Core of snake skin. Perfect duelling wand." He picked up the biggest piece, and a slither of damp snake skin slithered onto the counter with a slap. "Pity. As I recall, you were here for almost an entire afternoon before this wand chose you."
"An entire afternoon?" Godric asked, earning an eye roll from Salazar
"Go to Flourish and Blotts, I'll be with you later." Not waiting for him to change his mind, Godric gratefully left the shop, and set off down to his favourite part of the wizard street; the bookshop.
Upon entering, he was immediately set upon by Ben Blotts himself, a short man with a dry voice, as if he didn't use it much.
"Sir Gryffindor, I've set aside a copy of Roserubb's latest for you, I knew you'd be paying us a visit soon."
Godric managed to amuse himself for a long while among the gilt and parchment, mounting up a large pile of reading material, for which he was only paying a fraction of the price. He was Flourish and Blotts' best customer.
"Do you have anything about the disadvantages of broomsticks as a means of transport?" Godric asked, thinking of Salazar.
"Yes, here we are, Brooms, the Bane of the Backside, an excellent tool for debate."
"Thank you Ben-"
"Ah, Miss Ravenclaw! A delight to see you, as always. How may I help you?" Put out by this sudden lack of attention, Godric turned to see this 'Miss Ravenclaw'…
He was stunned. He was being passed over for a little girl! The girl was short, with long brown hair down past her waist, which she wore loose like a street urchin. She looked flushed, as if she had been running, and she was smiling madly.
"Hello Ben," she said, breathless, "I haven't got long, Helga is at the apothecary."
"Of course, of course, I have some volumes on transfiguration, and the roles of women, but was there anything else you wanted?" Godric noticed he was magically shrinking the books as he talked about them.
"Rosalind Roserubb's latest, if you have it."
"Anything for my favourite customer. I'll be right back." He went behind a curtain. The girl jumped up onto the counter, against her better judgement. She fell off almost immediately, cradling a splinter ridden hand. Almost instinctively, Godric pulled out his wand and muttered Arboris Sortir at her hand. The splinters flew out of her hand painlessly and went back to the counter.
"Thank you," the girl said gratefully. Godric smiled amiably.
"I couldn't help overhearing, that you read Roserubb?"
"Oh, yes, amongst others."
"You read a lot?" It was unheard of for women to read. The girl's smile faded at his obvious surprise.
"Yes. Women are capable of it you know."
"I hadn't realized," said Godric dismissively.
"Now, now Godric, don't be uncouth. This isn't Camelot; witches are capable of more than muggle women." Salazar had apparently taken less time than expected acquiring a new wand.
"Do you think so?" said the girl with quick interest.
"Why yes, my lady. You seem to be of sufficient intelligence to know that magical folk are far superior to non-magical. Take your interest in the written word, for example. It is a fine thing in a woman, but completely unheard of among muggles." Godric gaped unwillingly at Salazar's discussion. He himself had a way with women, but it didn't generally involve talking…Salazar was the charmer when it came down to it.
"Indeed. I see you have read work by Markus Slytherin," the girl replied delightedly.
"Indeed I have. My name is Salazar Slytherin, Markus Slytherin was my father."
Before she could reply Blotts finally appeared again, much to Godric's relief, with a tiny package that he suspected contained shrunken books.
"Here we are Miss Ravenclaw. That will be sixteen Galleons and twenty-one Sickles."
The girl handed over the money and thanked Blotts, before turning back to Salazar, apparently forgetting that Godric was there. Salazar was evidently enjoying the attention from such a pretty little witch.
"Extraordinary! I'm an avid reader of his views, although I can't say I agree with many of them, but his intelligence was far beyond anything else I've come across-"
"ROWENA!" A tall, blonde woman screeched from the doorway.
"Hello Helga." The young girl—Rowena—looked more put out than guilty. The shrunken books were nowhere to be seen, Godric noted.
"Where have you been!" the blonde cried hysterically. Rowena sighed, as it was rather obvious where she had been. "I was so worried; I thought a tiger had got you again-"
"Helga that only happened once-" She was cut off as Helga knocked the wind out of her with an embrace. Rowena looked at the ceiling helplessly, unable to move.
"Madame," Salazar cut in gracefully, "I apologise for detaining your sister, but we were having a rather fascinating conversation about-" Salazar stopped, suddenly struck dumb, it seemed.
"—dinner. I gather you haven't dined today." Godric stared at Salazar in bewilderment. He knew where this was going, and he also knew they had better things to do than take two ladies out to dinner. Two ladies who were evidently not sisters, despite Salazar's flattery.
The blonde seemed oblivious to this however, as she raise a hand to her hair and smiled, releasing Rowena from her grip.
"It was our fault your sister is in this shop. We noticed she was alone without an escort and brought her in, as it was the nearest place of shelter and she was without a cloak," Salazar continued. "Please allow us to apologise by accompanying us to dinner," he finished with a debonair smile.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>()
Salazar pulled a chair out for Helga graciously, and she sat down, smiling flirtatiously. Godric would have done the same for Rowena, but she had already sat down. Their table at the Three Broomsticks was situated near the fireplace, at the request of Helga, who did not like the cold. Godric wrestled with his hilt for a moment before taking his seat, rearranging it so he could sit comfortably.
"That's a fine sword," Rowena noted. Godric smiled modestly. He couldn't help noticing how beautiful she looked in the firelight.
"Oooh, may I see?" Helga asked from across the table. Godric swiftly pulled the blade from the hilt and brandished it across the table, tilting it so the engraving could be seen clearly.
"Godric Gryffindor," Helga read with awe. "And do you, Sir Slytherin, have a sword as fine as this?"
"I prefer to use a wand. And please, call me Salazar." The charm never stopped with him.
"That reminds me, did you have any trouble getting a new one?" Godric asked.
"None at all," Salazar pulled his latest acquisition out of a thin bag he had in his robes. "Thirteen and a quarter inches, pine, core of Basilisk skin. Almost identical to my old one. So tell me Helga, what relation are you to Rowena, as you insist you are not sisters. You couldn't possibly be her mother!"
"Oh, no (patting her hair) Rowena is my goddaughter. Her father and uncle died recently, and her mother, god rest her soul, was a good friend of mine when we were growing up, so I took it upon myself to take care of the child."
"Hardly a child," Godric said without thinking, but Rowena seemed to take it as a compliment.
"Oh, I know she walks and talks as if she were a queen mother, and she reads too much for a young lady," Salazar glanced at Rowena with a kind of hidden respect, "her father and uncle raised her together and taught her all sorts of strange things-"
"Such as?" Godric prompted. Rowena shifted uncomfortably.
"Sword fighting, Occlumency, Transfiguration, Broomstick riding, Horse back riding in a man's saddle, would you believe, Archery, French, Latin, Greek…and even swimming! But I do love my little water sprite," she finished fondly.
Helga appeared to be able to talk for hours, and before long the four knew each other's entire histories in detail. Helga and Rowena lived in a small muggle village not far from the coast. It appeared Rowena had travelled extensively with her father and uncle, and she seemed to be a particularly cultured young lady. And particularly beautiful, as Godric kept thinking to himself.
"You seem to have done an awful lot in your lifetime," Godric said with admiration, taking a bite of his chicken leg.
"And you seem to have done very little," Rowena teased. It was true, Godric and Helga had felt somewhat inferior compared to Rowena and Salazar's rich tapestry of experiences.
Well, I've lost this one to Salazar…
"Isn't it odd," Helga said kindly through her potatoes. "With me almost forty and Rowena only thirteen, how she's accomplished so much more."
Salazar sprayed his wine over Godric, who simultaneously repaid the compliment with bits of chicken.
"Forty?" Salazar spluttered.
"Thirteen!" Godric choked.
An uneasy silence followed, during which the two men couldn't help staring at the two ladies. They both looked about their age, in their early twenties, although Rowena might have passed more easily as seventeen, but Godric would never have thought she was only thirteen.
It seemed Salazar had also changed tactics, now realizing that the woman he had been fondling over was old enough to be his mother.
"Er, yes." Rowena looked highly amused, if a little contemptuous. Evidently she had instantly lost any respect she had previously held for the two wizards.
"Well, its getting late. Perhaps we should be going," Helga said pleasantly.
"Oh, but you're miles away from your home," Godric said hastily, "wouldn't you prefer to spend the night at our-"
"Pile of rubble?" Salazar finished for him.
"Oh. Perhaps some other time…" Godric trailed off, disappointed. Helga and Rowena may have been less than desirable ages for the two bachelors, but they still remarkably attractive.
"Oh, of course, your castle is no more! You shall spend the night at our home," said Helga said in a way that brooked no arguments.
The wizards did not object. They were still men, after all…