Disclaimer: Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.
A/N: Hellooooooooooooooo! Guess what? I'm on time again ((gasps)) I am actually starting to make a habit out of it! Either way, this almost did not make it on time (again, too), because - guess what? Bloody mathematics! I, Star of the North, absolutely hate math! It is the bane of my existence - Geometry in particular. Who invented that thing anyway? So not fair that it means so much in the world…
Other than that, this chapter's a little darker (I think), and features Salazar as the PoV. So now let us see what goes on with our little snake-speaker… watch as Salazar falls deeper into shadow…
Enjoy!
P.S. Once more, thanks to all those to whom I did not have time to reply, or who had not left an email in anonymous reviews!
P.P.S. Forgot to tell you this last time, though it's quite obvious by itself. The victory over Ambrosius was the height of the era, the moment where everything was perfect. From now on the story takes a darker turn, in a way, which cannot be helped. We all know what happened in the end.
Chapter 23 – Cannot Be Bothered
"Accepted legend tells of a certain place within the halls of Hogwarts named the Chamber of Secrets. The legend has been passed on from one generation to another, always receiving a slightly wilder direction or a more romantic embellishment with each telling. It is, after all, the nature of mankind to look for the mystery in things that are sometimes explained quite easily, especially if you know of the existence of magic.
"The legend tells that after the infamous rift between Godric and Salazar had started to grow, concerning the admittance of Muggle born witches and wizards to Hogwarts, Salazar Slytherin had been so livid that the two other founders had sided with Godric, that in his rage and madness, he created in the bowels of the Castle a secret place where he had conducted experiments of unknown results, experiments in things that should have been left untouched.
"It is told that before he left Hogwarts in anger, he sealed the chamber in a way that would allow it to open only when his own true heir would arrive at the school. It is also told that there, within that fabled Chamber, lies in wait a horrid monster, which only the heir of Slytherin can unleash and control…"
- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown
Salazar stood aside as an almost entranced Helga walked towards Rosalind. As she reached her, Rosalind gently put the letter in her hand, a small smile on her lips. Helga did not return the smile, but stared at the crumpled piece of parchment lodged in her hand for the longest time, unable to make herself open it and read the contents.
Salazar completely understood her hesitation. Her parents were the ones who had almost dragged her to the death pyre that ended up being Ryan Ravenclaw's demise. Her parents were responsible to all the hardships she had been forced to endure. Her parents wanted her dead and acted upon that wish, murderous Muggles that they were. How could they kill their own?
After standing there for a long time, Rosalind gently put a hand on Helga's shoulder. When the younger woman looked up fearfully, she smiled at her encouragingly. "Would you like me to read it for you, dear?"
Mutely, Helga nodded, giving her back the letter.
Clearing her throat, Rosalind started reading. "My dearest daughter, my little Helga,
"I ask Madam Ravenclaw to write to you now just after I have stood by your brothers and sisters, watching your father being lowered to the ground. It was inevitable. We had known it would happen soon enough. He had been abusing himself with drink ever since that day, so many years ago when you had escaped the pyre and Master Ravenclaw had taken your place on it. For the past four years your father had been a raving madman, seeing things that were not there and screaming for help that we could not give. I find it surprisingly relieving that he is now gone.
"Aside of our misfortune in having an invalid in our care for so long, life in the village is quiet as they always had been. Nothing much has changed since your escape from the clutches of death. Your sisters have all long since been married and have families of their own. Your brothers have also found themselves lovely brides and have build themselves homes in Culhwch. You have many nephews and nieces now, Helga, running around the house and the village all the time. Your friends, all of them, are already mothers with big families. I wish you could have seen them.
"I don't know how things fare with you. I don't know if you have found someone to marry and if you have children of your own. It hurts me to think that I will never be able to know it, because we are separated forever by things that are beyond our control. Madam Ravenclaw has told me that you are a great lady where you now live, and that you commend the respect and love of many. She also said that you are living a good, happy life, though she could not answer my questions concerning your marital state with certainty.
"Know that even though we have done you so much wrong, I still love you and still wish I had you here with me. That night in which you escaped I rejoiced, for it meant you still had a chance to have a happy life. I am pleased to know that ever since you left the valley you are on that path to happiness.
"Though I know that you may despise me and wish that I had never asked this message to be passed to you, I love you with all my heart, little one, and always will. Be safe, dear heart, and be happy,
"Eternally yours,
"Mother."
Helga stood there, rooted to the spot, and Salazar could see her shoulder trembling. A bittersweet smile on her lips, Rosalind noticed that as well, and enveloped the shaking woman in her arms, soothing her. However, Helga would have none of that. She pulled out of Rosalind's arms and shook her head, backing away.
"No," she muttered repeatedly. "No. Why now? Why did it have to come now, when I'm finally happy?" Her voice was bitter, and even though Salazar knew this had nothing to do with him, he could not help but feeling pain and resentment at what these words implied. She said it as though she had never been happy back when they were together, and it hurt. It hurt a lot. "Why couldn't she have said it years ago?" Helga continued, still backing away. "Why couldn't she tell me she loved me? She let them take me away, and she did not fight them. After all this bad blood now she tells me she misses me and loves me still? What kind of a demented creature is she?" Tears were now streaming down Helga's cheeks, and her hands moved to protect her growing belly without noticing it.
At that point, Rowena moved to intercept the crying Helga and wrapped her in her arms. This time Helga did not protest. She allowed her friend to give her the support she needed.
Salazar, still resenting the meaning underlining Helga's words but torn inside by the obvious pain the woman was in, approached the two and put a reassuring hand on Helga's shoulder. He did not expect her reaction. He did not expect her to flinch away from his touch as though touched by fire. For a moment he stood there, hand frozen in the air, watching as Helga shrank deeper into Rowena's arms, then, shaking his head, dropped it, and turned to go.
She did not need him anymore, and maybe she never did. A taste of ashes was in his mouth, and his eyes, though he wanted nothing more than crawl into his room and cry like a child, were persistently dry. Walking slowly away, he left them behind, needing to be alone. Someone, however, did not heed his wishes. Footsteps came from behind, brisk and with a no-nonsense rhythm to them. The person behind him soon caught up with him, adjusting their strides to his.
He could see Godric from the corner of his eye, his hands held together behind his back, his face looking straight on. For a while they walked in silence.
"You can't let a moment of pain ruin all good memories of previous years, Salazar," Godric finally said, still not looking at him. "She did not mean that she was not happy with you."
"Yes," Salazar spat. "And how exactly would you know what she is thinking?"
"Admittedly, I cannot read thoughts, but I can read faces, and her face during your years together was the happiest I had ever seen. She was hurt when you left her Salazar, and she may be pushing back the memories of the good times she had had with you. It does not mean that you have to do the same. Helga is an emotional woman, and to stop it from hurting, she stopped thinking of all the time you spent together. You are more logical. You should treasure the time you had with her - if you truly do love her."
"If I loved her, do you think I would have left her?" he said angrily, knowing that he was lying and that Godric knew that he was lying.
"I think you are a coward, Salazar," Godric said bluntly, finally fixing his eyes on Salazar. "You couldn't face what was happening between you and you ran away. It was a mistake, and now you have to pay the price. Do not, however, erase the good in what you had from your memory. Cherish it and look on it favourably, and while you're at it, keep the light of friendship between the two of you. It will do you both good."
"You never were good with advice," Salazar snarled and tore away from his friend. He needed to be alone - why could Godric not see that? Almost running, he made his way to his quarters, locking the door securely behind him. The last thing he needed was to be interrupted by do-gooders like Godric who saw it their duty to push themselves into things that were none of their concern. Stupid oaf. He had no idea what he was talking about.
How could she deceive him thus? How could she let him think that she enjoyed every moment with him and then so uncaringly say that she was never happy in his arms? How could he have been so foolish as to believe her act? She had beguiled him, lied to him, and all that because she was too kind to tell him the truth. What a fool he had been for taking her words for truth.
Sitting by the wild fire in his main chamber's grate, he stared at the flames, his mind overtaken by dark thoughts.
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Once it was clear to everyone that Rosalind was truly intending on remaining there, she was invited by dozens of women who had met her on previous visits to come and live with them. After the battle against Ambrosius was won, the community became much tighter and for the ones living there it felt more like a big family than a village, and that made them all keen to help Rosalind fit in. Though Rowena suggested that her mother would stay at the Castle, that they had many rooms to spare, Rosalind gently explained that she needed quiet environment to continue with her various obscure researches and opted to find a place at the village.
After much deliberation, and great insistence from Ceridwen, she had taken one of the now-empty rooms at Sir Rhys' house that had once belonged to his boys, and settled there. She was quite content there, as she had told the four friends repeatedly, having a space of her own and a place to put her books.
Salazar could see that Rowena was doubtful about that, but since the two doting grandmothers were happy to take the children off her hands almost every day while she and Godric were teaching, her opposition to the matter abated.
The birth of Helga's firstborn, a lovely baby girl named Rhian to honour Dahlia's lost child, who had her mother's sunny hair and a sweet disposition, was not accompanied by a grandiose ceremony such as Ryan's, but with a quiet gathering of the family and friends.
The gathering took place in Ilar and Helga's quarters, and the main chamber was almost packed full with Ilar's brothers and their wives and so many others who had somehow found themselves invited. Salazar stood at the very back of the crowd, in the shadow of an ornate column at one corner of the room. There he felt safe. He could not join the celebrators. He felt anything but happy now.
The birth was easy enough and Helga was on her feet in less than a day, and for that he was relieved, but as he saw the little thing held in Ilar's arms right after the birth, he could not help but feel bitter and resentful at the happy father, the sleeping baby and the tired mother. Rhian should have been his. Helga should have been his wife, should have been his to hold. He hated Ilar for taking her and making her the mother of his child.
Even now, three days later, he could not smile even for appearances sake. He just hid his face and the fact that his eyes shone with unshed tears. All the pain and sadness that he had wallowed in since that miserable fallout over a year before now reached an unbearable climax. With a last glance at the happy group gathered around a joyful Helga, he turned his back on them and strode out of the chamber and into the hall. The need to be alone that took over him so often these days came back. When he was halfway down the hall, the door he had closed opened, letting out the sounds of laughter and happy people.
"Salazar! Wait!" Helga called from behind him.
He froze in his tracks, unable to force himself to run, though there was nothing he wanted to do more than to escape her at that very moment.
Then she was next to him, the baby in her arms. She looked up at him, her dark blue eyes deep with worry as she surveyed his face, his pained eyes. "Salazar, why don't you stay?" she asked in a soft voice. "I want you to be happy again. Why can't you smile like you used to?"
"There is no reason for me to smile anymore, Helga," he said in a voice that was barely over a whisper. "I have no place in that world anymore." He nodded at the open door. He looked down at the tiny girl in her arms and carefully he touched a finger to the velvety skin of the newly born's cheek. "She is beautiful," he said. "Just like her mother." And then he walked away, leaving a wide-eyed Helga behind him.
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Slowly, as weeks passed by, Salazar found himself withdrawing more and more from the company of his friends. He no longer felt like he belonged. Godric and Rowena had their own family, Helga and Ilar now had one as well. Both couples lived in the Castle and both had children. He was alone, feeling entirely out of place when he sat with them all during the evenings, watching them touching with shows of affection, or bickering, which was Godric and Rowena's way of saying they loved each other. He watched them in their own worlds, unaware that they were leaving him behind.
They did not mean to keep him outside, to make him feel as though he was no part of their lives anymore. It was just something that they could not help but do. But it hurt. Dear Merlin, it hurt almost more than he could bear. They were together, the four of them, for so long that it was unthinkable that they were not one, functioning unit. It was unthinkable that he was no longer an integral part of the relationships the other three shared.
And so he drew away from them, keeping to his chambers more than he used to, keeping the distance between them. The others noticed his detachment and often attempted to draw him back out. Sometimes they managed it, when Salazar could no longer stand the loneliness of his quarters, but at times they did not.
The harmony at Hogwarts was breaking, but it would be longer still before any of the Hogwarts founders would see that, and when they finally will, it would be far too late.
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"I cannot believe him!" Salazar hissed to Maureen one day as he entered his quarters late in the evening. Maureen had been acting a little strangely in the past couple of months, and that morning she had asked to be left in the warm nest of blankets that was her bed while he went to teach. It worried him quite a bit, and after what had happened only a few minutes before, he also missed her soothing words that she always hissed when she saw he was upset. That was why he had started complaining almost as soon as the door shut behind him.
"What did he do?" she asked in a low hiss that was unlike the bright tone she usually used. He did not notice at that point, however, only catching the articulation in the hiss that told him she knew he was talking about Godric.
He and Godric had started fighting more often than not these days. It started with Godric's constant commenting on the matter of Helga and Salazar's fallout, continuing with minor bickering on the nature of their systems of teaching and went all the way to full-blown roaring matches over petty matters.
They were both in bad tempers constantly these days, at odds with each other over nothing.
However, what Godric had told them tonight, what he had done without the knowledge of the others, that was too much for Salazar, and this time he knew he was justified in his anger at the infuriating man.
"What did he do? He went to the country south of here without telling anyone and hunted out Muggle children who have magic. He already approached the parents and somehow - I don't know how - managed to convince them that what their children had was good. They would be coming to Hogwarts in a matter of days! How could he do this without consulting anyone! It was bad enough that we agreed to have that girl Master Cutter so kindly loaded on us! Those Muggle children would ruin everything!"
"Maybe he had good reason to believe that the children were in danger?" the snake suggested.
"If they were in danger he would never have approached the parents, because with those monstrous Muggles the parents are the main danger to them!" he somehow managed to let the hiss sound like a growl in his anger.
"But that's not what angers you."
"No! It's just that this infuriatingly stupid oaf acted without advising us of his doings! I hate those Muggles and I never want to see another one of them walks in this school! One is bad enough!"
"Salazar…" she hissed very weakly. "Please try and cooperate with the others. You are such good friends. Don't let it slip through your fingers… please, Salazar. For me."
It was at this point that he noticed there was something definitely wrong with her. He looked closely at her, noting how dull her normally vibrant skin was, how she lay limp in her nest of blankets, not as alert as she should be in the warm room.
"Maureen…?" he said softly, in his mind unsure of what was happening, even though his heart knew better. He kneeled beside her, his face very close to her small body. "What is wrong with you?"
"I am dying, my friend. You know that."
He shook his head vehemently, trying to delay the inevitable. He had had enough snakes in his past - ever since he was old enough to understand that he could speak to them - to see that she was very close to death and that it was too late to do anything to stop it from happening. He could not believe he had missed the signs.
"Why didn't you tell me of this earlier?" he choked out.
"Salazar…"
"No!" he cried in distress, the hissing sounds leaving his mouth harsher than they should have been.
"My dear Salazar, there is nothing we can do. There is nothing you could have done, even if I did tell you sooner. I have served my time in the world of the living. Each living creature is assigned their own length of life, and I have long since passed my own. The Fates are calling me, Salazar, and as much as I would love to stay, we both know that there is nothing I can do about it."
"But… Maureen… you can't leave me like this! I need you…"
"You need to be happy, Salazar. That is what you need. Please be happy, my master, my friend. Please be happy."
"How can I be happy when I am about to lose you like this?"
"I am but an insignificant being, Salazar. Your life will go on without me, whether you wish to believe that or not. You still have your human friends, and by all that you hold sacred, please keep it that way. They are the best companions you could wish for, and if you ever loved me, please respect my final wish and be true to them as they are true to you."
"Maureen," he practically whined, feeling the tears sliding down his face and no longer caring if he showed emotion. She had been there for him for such a long time. He could imagine a life without her. She was his first true snake companion, and thus closer to him than any human, since she was there every step of the way, coiled on his arm. He could not lose her. Not now of all times, when everything around him was falling apart. Not now that all his hopes were in ashes and refused to be rebuilt. He needed her there. He could not let her go.
Out of the silence, Maureen raised part of her body, slithering as fast as she could in her weakened state and coiling herself one last time around his wrist, her head resting on the back of his hand. "She still loves you, Salazar," she said in an almost inaudible hiss. "Remember that."
"What-?"
"Goodbye, dear friend. Be happy…" And with that last hiss, Maureen's long body rattled one last time, and then lay motionless in Salazar's hands.
"Maureen…" he let out a sob.
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When the others saw him the next morning, they knew something was wrong. They met him in the Entrance Hall as they were about to enter the Great Hall for the students' morning meal and he, with a small wooden box in his arms, was about to go outside.
"Salazar?" Rowena asked, tilting her head in question. "What is the matter?" He knew she could see his red-rimmed eyes and the shadows under them.
"Maureen is dead," he said emotionlessly. All emotions he had shown the night before, leaving none for the morning. He felt so empty.
From the corner of his eye he could see Helga raising her hand to her mouth in alarm, and Godric's hand half-reaching to clutch his shoulder. Rowena's face showed sorrow and pity. He could not stand that look.
"I am not teaching today," he told them to the point, his eyes avoiding theirs. "I'm sorry. If you'll excuse me…" He bypassed Rowena and strode away, heading to the grounds.
He buried Maureen on the shore of the lake, just by the bottom of the cliff, where it met the water. He sat there for a long while, not knowing what to feel, not knowing how he should react. He had shed his tears and now there was nothing left in him.
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The first group of Muggle children arrived at Hogwarts two weeks later, their faces awe-struck. Salazar, standing with the other three to greet them, could not help but feel contempt to those children. They knew absolutely nothing about magic and could not help but be weak and worthless. They would probably be unable to cast the simplest of spells. He watched them in disdain as they clumsily climbed the stairs to the front of the Castle and his disgust grew as the other three hurried to help them, welcoming them with smiles.
When the three boys and four girls were discussed in an attempt to decide to which of the four groups they should go, Salazar kept his mouth shut and whenever someone mentioned a quality that he liked best, he only frowned and shook his head. There was no chance that he would allow such creatures to join his group. If the others did not care for the contamination those children would bring, then let them have that ill influence on the others under their care.
"What is the problem with you?" Godric asked scathingly after the children were sent to their rooms. "I know that you are upset over Maureen, but that was no reason to be so rude to those poor things."
"I was not being rude," he said coldly. "I didn't want them under my care and that is it. Leave it alone, Godric. Maureen has nothing to do with it."
"Nonsense!" Godric replied with the same hot tone. "You're so deep into your own misery that you are nasty and uncaring to everyone around you. The snake wasn't your only friend, but you have been acting as though she was the only one! You are ruining everything with your behaviour, Salazar! Get out of it and return to your former self!"
"I am happy the way I am," Salazar growled, abruptly getting up. "I see that I am not welcome here. I bid you goodnight." Then he stormed out, something he found himself doing more often than not these days, but at that precise moment he was far from caring.
Stupid Godric! What an oaf that man was! Ruining everything, indeed. He was the last one to blame of ruining everything.
Tears fell down his eyes, unchecked. He was angry, he was livid. He needed some sort of outlet. Losing Maureen did not help his gradually souring temper and the steadily crumbling bonds of his friendship with Godric. The man was so stubborn and too proud to admit that he was in the wrong. If he would see that friend of his again that day, he promised himself he would not be held accountable to his deeds.
He needed to be alone, and nowhere in the huge Castle was enough.
The others just did not understand what he was going through. They had experienced pets' deaths before and so they did not fully comprehend why he was taking this so badly. But how could he explain to them how much Maureen had meant to him? She was his constant companions for so long, always there with a sarcastic comment ready, a compassionate hiss or a blunt rebuff when he had strayed out of line. She was a friend to him, an advisor and a conscience. She was family.
But they did not understand. Even Godric, who had spent so much time with him in the past, long before they had met either woman, did not realize it. He had patted Salazar's back consolingly on the evening he had returned from her makeshift burial, and advised him to get a new snake to replace Maureen. How could he even suggest that? Doing that would show so much contempt to the memory of Maureen.
Walking out of the Castle, he stormed down to the shore of the lake, soon enough finding himself beside the place where Maureen was put to rest. He stood by it, staring at the cliff face and how it met the water. He did not want this open space at the moment. He wanted a dark, dank space into which he could crawl and wallow in his endless misery until all emotion had left him, leaving him numb and cold.
As though hearing his wishes, his eyes met with a ledge in the cliff face, and above it, an opening. A thin, almost invisible opening, but one all the same. From where he was standing, he estimated it would be quite enough. But how to get there?
The ledge was much too high for him to reach and climb. He would have to find handholds in the rocks that were part of the cliff. Making sure his wand was safely in place, he took a firm hold on a jutting piece of rock and started pulling himself up, every time looking for hand and foot holds. It was a long and dangerous climb, and he knew, as he angled his climb, that if he was to fall, he would break his neck with the force of the drop into the water and the rocks at the cliff base which were hidden under the deceptively smooth water. Ignoring those doubts, he concentrated on the climb.
His boots sliding on loose rubble that fell from the top of the cliff and accumulated on the protruding tiny ledges his feet were bracing themselves on, Salazar strained his fingers' grip on the sharp rocks. The crack in the cliff face was just above him, and he was not about to give up at this point. He felt the jagged rock slicing into the skin of his fingers once more and knew that his hands would be bloody when he would finally reach the opening, but he was far from caring. He needed to be alone. He needed a tight, closed space, and that crack was just that.
With a last grunt of effort, he managed to pull himself unto the minuscule ledge that was under the crack in the rock. He brushed his bloodied hands on the sides of his robes, wincing slightly as the coarse cloth rubbed against the open wounds. Taking a deep breath and lighting his wand, he squeezed through the opening and into the darkness beyond.
He walked for a while in the narrow passageway, often having to duck his head or bend his entire back as the ceiling of the passage changed heights. The walls pressed on his shoulders, and even though on normal occasions he would have found the closed space somewhat uncomfortable and even panicking, this time it was comforting and reassuring. All he now needed was a small opening big enough for him to sit and think.
It came to him as a complete surprise when, almost an hour later, he came upon an opening that was not big enough for him to sit, but big enough to house the great hall itself. He stood in the opening, some three men's height above the bottom of the shadowy cavern lit in the light of his wand, gaping at the space in front of him.
The first thought that had pressed itself through his empty mind, was that it looked like a ceremonial temple. It had a long empty aisle at its center, leading to a huge block of rock at the other end. To either side, natural rock formations created what almost looked like pillars and the echoes running through it as he climbed down to the ground were immense, reverberating through him again and again.
As he examined one of the pillar-like formations, for a moment it almost looked to him as though there was a snake coiled about the rock. The next moment, however, it was gone.
Then it struck him. He would make this place a memorial to Maureen. This would be his personal place to remember her and appreciate the wonderful companion that she had been. Now much happier and content than he had been in the past few weeks, he continued to explore the cave, wishing to see it all before he would start his work.
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Salazar returned late that night to the Castle, in a very good mood. What he had seen in the cavern satisfied him, and he was delighted in creating this private space of which no one would ever know. He was friendly to Godric that evening, which surprised the other man, but was accepted all the same as an apology.
Early on the next free day he had left for his cavern, a quickly scrawled plan on a parchment in his pocket. He would make the cavern into the most wondrous place anyone had ever seen.
Upon reaching the cavern Salazar examined the huge rock jutting out of the cave's wall, and doubt crept into his mind. He had meant this place to be a shrine to commemorate his beloved companion, but to create her likeness on a rock this big as he had planned and sketched seemed somehow wrong all of a sudden. Maureen was a caring little creature. She was shy and loving and disliked the company of many. To make her this ostentatious monument would contaminate his memories of her.
But then… was there not another who had deserved commemorating and who had received nothing for all he had done? The thought appeared in his mind unbidden.
Salazar Slytherin knew now whose would be the features that will grace the surface of that rock. It would not be Maureen, who was too precious for that, but of a person he had never really known but still loved fiercely.
"Come to me, my father. Come to your son," he whispered, his voice hoarse, his eyes gleaming and his wand rising up to the air. Graceful hands twirled and wove in and out, moving the wand hither and thither.
In front of him, out of the crude, cold stone, a shape began to form, hazy at first, but slowly clearing, its features sharpening. Before nightfall he would have his monument prepared. A monument for he who had done so much to protect Muggles from the unknown, while receiving nothing in return. A whole lifetime wasted over those unworthy creatures who had taken so many lives out of pure spite and malice.
Were he in his right mind, Salazar surely would have realized how ridiculous his thoughts were, but in his grief and pain, nothing seemed to make sense. Everything, from Rhiannon's death, to Maureen's passing to his father's own accidental demise, turned in his mind an accusing finger at the Muggles.
Oh, how he hated those lowly creatures!
He turned his attention back to his work. With a swirling motion, a protruding shelf of rock high above him received the likeness of a nose. Another, stabbing motion made a hollow to one side, and a second made its twin to the nose's other side. Two circling gestures pulled out eyes from the hollows and a sweeping motion downwards created a long, thin beard that almost reached the floor of the mighty chamber. Slowly, meticulously, and painstakingly, the likeness of Searlas Slytherin took shape in the grandiose rock.
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As months passed, Salazar divided his free time between making his secret chamber under the cliff of Hogwarts look like a chamber and not like a cavern, and observing the Muggle students who had now strode in the halls of Hogwarts as though they owned the place.
It infuriated him to no end. The way they strutted about was an affront to him and to all those who were born to the magic. They had no right to be there - no right at all. They were mere Muggles - not even educated ones. They had to be taught everything from the very beginning. They could not even read and write.
To make things worse, the other three fawned over them. Helga he could understand - being almost like those children herself she wanted them to stop being Muggles like she had stopped in her time, but he could not understand the enthusiasm Rowena and Godric showed every time they told him about this or that accomplishment of this or that Muggle child. He could not understand it and he could not bear it. It was beneath them to help such lowly creatures, such filth. They should realize that soon enough and then they would have to get rid of them as he had said in the very beginning.
But as more time passed, the Muggles had rooted their venomous presence in the school, and the more they succeeded, the more the others flattered them and loved them. It soon became apparent to him.
He would have to take care of them himself, unaided.
There had to be a way to rid the school from the troublesome existence of the Muggle children, he thought fervently, his eyes narrowing and his brow wrinkled in thought. What could he do to get them to disappear for ever, to never return to Hogwarts? Multitudes of plans flashed in his feverish mind, dismissed almost as soon as they had occurred to him.
He could poison them all, of course, but then, in a few years it would only be attributed to sensitivity to some substance and then they would return, not to mention that it could hurt children of purely magical blood; he could hex them all into oblivion, but that would be too obvious and it would get him in trouble with the others; he could concoct some sort of curse that would only take effect during the summer when the children were away, but then, he was never very good with inventing spells - that was always Rowena's specialty.
Then what could he do? It would have to be something that only he could trigger, but then - what were his talents? He could draw, but drawn curses were weak and would not complete the job properly, let alone make the Muggles stay away.
It took him several days to figure out the answer to that, and when he did, he almost started laughing that he had not thought of it earlier.
He was the only one in the Castle who could speak to snakes.
The next few months were dedicated to pure research. He withdrew to his chambers and only rarely left them. He stopped sitting with the others in the evenings and almost never joined them for dinner at the Great Hall, opting to dine alone so that he could continue his research. The others gave him strange glances and tried to talk him out of his solitude for a while, but soon they gave up, thinking he was not completely over the death of Maureen, even though it had happened so long before. They left him alone to his own devices, which was exactly what he had wanted.
Squinting over texts hundreds of years old, he had formed his plan. He would be able to rid his school of the filthy Muggle children who would strive to ruin it all and in such a clean way that no one would be able to say otherwise. After all, he would be in control the whole time and therefore there will be no unnecessary demises. It was a brilliant plan, an infallible plan. Now all he had to do was create the right circumstances.
In the dark recesses of his chamber, under the mighty shadow of his father, he brought together all he needed. A purple-spotted, acid-green toad with poison smoothing its skin and a single, large chicken's egg was all that was required. The toad he had spent days searching for in the beast-infested forest next to the Castle. There were many poisonous toads there, but he wanted a specific one, the most venomous of them all. It was his assumption that the more poisonous the toad, the more poisonous would be the offspring that would hatch from the egg.
Ah… what a wonderfully deceptive thing a simple chicken's egg could be, he thought gleefully. He had pilfered it from the chicken coop only that morning before everyone was awake, wanting it to be as fresh as possible. He had almost broken it twice on his way to his safe harbour, and nearly touched his bare skin to the toad three times.
In his meticulous way, he placed a nest he had woven out of straw on the cold rock beneath the statue of his father, then padding it with the soft, warm cloth that had been a part of Maureen's bed for so many years, thinking it was fitting. He moved the makeshift nest a few times from place to place, contemplating the best angle in which to settle it for the long process of hatching. Finally satisfied, he placed the egg with care at the center of the nest, snuggling it carefully with the thick fabric.
Then, with his wand, he floated the toad out of its improvised cage and settled it on top the egg, muttering the spell that would make sure it would not shift until the time of the emerging would come.
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Salazar knew that his attempt would take a long time. The ancient writers of the texts he had gone through before putting his plans into action were not very precise on the time the hatching would take. They seemed more interested in what would come out of the egg and how it could be used to their own purposes. They were not systematic about writing the facts, and only mentioned the creation process in passing. It had frustrated him to no end at the time, but as watched the egg three times a week, he was excited to see the change in it in every visit. Every time he observed it he thought it looked bigger, its shell darker and more poisonous in colour. Things were going according to plan.
On the night the alert spell he had designed to inform him when the development came to an end with Rowena's unknowing help, for it was designed after her own baby-anxiety alarm spell, activated, he was sitting for the first time in months with the others on their evening relaxation. It surprised the three of them greatly, but they were genuinely happy to see him there.
"You're smiling again," Rowena remarked at his good mood.
"I suppose I'm just happy," he replied, for the first time in weeks if not months feeling a pang of guilt at hiding things from them. "Good food, good company - what can I ask for more?"
"Nothing, I guess," she said, but her eyes narrowed, and he realized that he had neglected them all for a long while.
"Salazar," Helga said timidly, "you've been very… reclusive of late. And you're distracted a lot of the time, and you go out for walks so many times these days. Is there anything… wrong?"
Forcing himself to smile at her, inside he seethed. She wanted to know what was wrong with him? What could possibly be wrong? He absolutely detested the way she so easily dismissed what they had not too long ago. She was acting friendly, as though they had never loved each other, as though she had never loved anyone before that wretched Ilar. On the other hand, he was rather wary now that he knew they all noticed his long absences. In those past months he deluded himself that they did not notice it, or dismissed it as the last steps of getting over Maureen, but now he was more than a little on edge. What if one of them had followed him? What if they knew what he was up to? He could not allow that to happen.
He was about to respond, since all three of them were looking at him curiously, waiting for his reply, but almost as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, a great shudder went up his spine, clearly visible to the others.
"Salazar!" Godric cried, bolting out of his chair and leaning over him. "Are you all right? Do you need us to call for-"
"No!" Salazar raised his hands to push his friend away. "N-no. I don't need you to call anyone, Godric. Please calm down. I must have caught a cold or something like that in my walks outside. It is a foul weather, after all. No, I will just go to bed early tonight and hope for a better day tomorrow. Goodnight." With that he got up hastily, pretending to have a headache and sniffing to prove his point. As soon as he was out of the room, closing the door on the others' stunned faces, he only barely suppressed the need to shout out loud his exultance. The alarm spell ignited! It was not as subtle as Rowena's, and so it was noticeable to the others, but he did not care. All he cared about was find his way into the chamber as quickly as possible and watch the final stages of his greatest work.
Not even bothering to attempt stealth in his excitement, he took the most direct route to the entrance of the chamber, singing triumphantly inside.
As he entered his secret place, he could immediately see the change. The place where the toad was sitting atop the nest was usually deep in shadow, sheltered between the mighty legs of the statue at the end of the cavern. This time, however, the toad seemed to emanate bright, sickly-green light.
Walking slowly and deliberately he neared the nest and the toad on top of it, his face awed. He could almost not believe he was finally seeing the fruits of his labour. His mind almost did not accept the sight his eyes were seeing. It was finally here. After all that time. It was here.
He watched the egg as it began shuddering beneath the toad, and for the first time in years, his eyes shone as they used to before Helga left him to be in another's arms. This would be his child. His own creation and only his. Godric would learn how wrong he was, allowing so many those of Muggle heritage walk the almost sacred halls of Hogwarts. They would all learn. His child would take care of that.
His child, his creation, his little wonder that would cleanse the halls of Hogwarts. His Basilisk.
The spark in his dark eyes turned into a glint of madness.
Okay, so I know JKR probably meant the statue in the Chamber of Secrets to be of Salazar himself and not of his father, but the description of the statue in CoS does not resemble in the slightest to my Salazar (my fault, admittedly), so I warped the facts a little bit. Forgive me?
So! Seven more chapters to go - or something like that… next update would be next Tuesday, unless something comes up. I hope it doesn't because I kind of like being on time…
Hugs and kisses to everyone!
- Star of the North