Written for Quidditch League, Final.

Holyhead Harpies, Beater 1

Main Prompt: Your character must assume everyone holds a certain belief.

Optional Prompts: Salazar Slytherin / "Were you just going to leave without saying goodbye?" / friendship bracelet.

Word Count: 1106

Broken String

Salazar tapped his fingers against the table impatiently, sighing to himself. Why was Godric always late. One would think, with all of his tales of battle, that he'd have learnt to be on time.

One couldn't be a hero if they were too late to the fight, after all.

Helga chuckled under breath as she turned the page of the book she was reading. He glared at her, though it was without heat. He'd never been able to be truly angry with Helga; it was part of her charm, he supposed.

"They'll be here soon, I'm sure," she told him, when she caught him looking at her.

Before Salazar could reply, Rowena swanned into the room, smiling apologetically.

"I got caught up with a book," she said, shrugging her shoulders elegantly in a way only she could. "Godric isn't here yet?"

"I think he's waiting, hiding, in the hallway," Helga suggested with a small smirk. "You know he enjoys being the last one here. He likes to make an entrance."

"Helga, my dear, you know me so well," Godric said from the doorway, his large stature practically filling it. "Salazar, stop looking so grumpy. You're prettier when you smile."

Salazar snarled wordlessly at him. Godric was such a wind up merchant, and Salazar, to his displeasure, always rose to the bait.

"Can we get on with this?" Rowena requested. "I'd like to get back to my book."

Godric took his seat. "Orders of business today?"

"Just one, I believe," Helga said, closing her own book and pushing it to the side. "The students. I know we agreed to owl the invitations out to them, but we need to set up the book."

"Ah, of course, the registration book," Godric said. "Rowena, did you happen upon the spell you were talking about at our last meeting?"

"I did," she replied, slipping a piece of parchment from her pocket. "The wand movement is easy, a simple half turn counter clockwise."

"And the requirements for registration is anyone of age eleven with magic in their blood, correct?" Godric asked.

Helga and Rowena both nodded but Salazar frowned.

"Anyone?"

Helga looked his way, and he was surprised to see such reproach in her eyes. Only rarely had he seen her look at something such a way, and it had never been aimed at him before.

"Yes, of course anyone," she snapped. "What else would we use to qualify entrance to a school of magic, Salazar?"

"Those of pure blood only," Salazar replied, as though it was obvious. Why on earth would they allow Muggle-Borns into their school?

He was shocked to see all three of his friends glare his way, and feeling completely wrongfooted, he scowled back at them.

"Don't tell me you think we ought to mix those of different blood?" he asked, thoroughly appalled at the idea. "I believed you all to be intelligent!"

"Salazar," Helga said, tone quiet. She sounded sad, and he hated that it was because of him, even if he wasn't sure how they'd devolved to this quite so fast. "Surely you don't believe those of Muggle heritage to be… inferior? Did the Americas not teach you anything? Look at the segregation there!"

"Look at the way those with magic are hunted here, Helga!" Salazar snapped. He stood up. "I hadn't thought this would be a problem. I'd foolishly believed that we'd all want this school to succeed. To flourish, without the fear of those without our heritage."

"Salazar, even those not born to Wizarding families deserve to learn," Rowena pointed out softly. "Would it not be more dangerous, to leave them out there with no knowledge to control their magic?"

Salazar shook his head and swept from the room. "Do whatever you want."

…

He'd tried.

He really had.

Okay, so maybe he hadn't tried that hard.

Nothing was the same, and he couldn't bring himself to look at his fellow founders with the same respect he'd held for them before. He was quite certain that they felt the same way about him.

They didn't seem to understand that it wasn't that he found Muggle-Borns inferior (though they were). He feared them, feared what the Muggles would do should magic—should Hogwarts—be found.

Muggles were… destructive.

That didn't mean he was immune to the hurt when Helga looked at him sadly, or when Rowena and Godric exchanged a glance that spoke novels without uttering a single word, their thoughts clearly in tune against Salazar.

Had he truly been a fool to assume that they were all on the same page? That they wanted the same things?

Had he been a fool to believe that he had a place here amongst them?

…

He waited until after midnight, the only light on the grounds from the full moon above.

"Were you just going to leave without saying goodbye?"

He turned to see Helga watching him from the doorway. He often forgot—to his own detriment—quite how observant she could be.

"There's nothing here for me now, Helga," he said softly. "I… I had believed that we were of one mind and now—"

"Friends are allowed to disagree, no?"

"It's been years. Years, Helga, and I'm still confused. I don't understand how I got it so wrong."

"You can change your views, you know?"

"I cannot," he replied. "As I do not believe I am the one who is wrong."

"Salazar—"

"I'm more confused that it was a problem at all," he added, interrupting her. "I… I feel betrayed, Helga."

Helga sighed. "There is nothing I can do to change that, is there?"

He shook his head. "I'm afraid not. It… it does mean something, that you would want too. I cannot remain here though. This is not the school I envisioned it to be."

She stepped closer to him, carefully taking her hand in hers. He felt her magic, so pure and light, wash over him and he raised his hand to see a band around his wrist.

"Helga, what is this?"

"A friendship bracelet," she replied. "One of the children taught me about them. So long as it remains on your wrist, we will always be friends, no matter where you are in the world."

Salazar stared at it for a long moment and then turned away, walking over the sprawling grounds to the gates. He could feel her eyes on him the whole way, and when he looked behind him, he could still see her watching.

Glancing down at his wrist, he broke the string of the bracelet and let it fall to the ground before he slipped through the gates and Apparated away.