A/N: This story was written for season two, round eight of the International Wizarding School Championship Forum.

A/N2: One of the characters speaks with a Scottish accent, so some of her words will be Scottish slang.

A/N3: Medieval Britain took place in the years 476 AD - 1453. Therefore, it is possible for The Hogwarts Founders to be still alive during that time.

Words: 1255

School: Mahoutokoro

Theme: Little Whinging (4 Privet Drive)

Main Prompt: [Setting] Medieval Britain

Additional Prompt: [Quote] "Of all the liars in the world, sometimes the worst are our own fears." Rudyard Kipling

Year: 6

"Roberts, Anne!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Smith, David!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Taylor, Andrew!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Williams, Eliza!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Up at the high table inside the Great Hall, the teachers of Hogwarts watched as the new students were sorted into their respective houses.

One man, in particular, was staring rather intently at the students. Whenever a new student became a Slytherin, his dark eyes flashed briefly in satisfaction. He had a long, silver beard that was tucked out of his way as he ate, and his green robes hid his tense shoulders as he listened to his fellow teachers talk around him.

"Oh, I'm so glad Godric came up with this idea," the woman next to him spoke quietly to the person on her other side; she was a round, plump, middle-aged woman with red hair tied up into a bun at the top of her head, and blue eyes that sparkled as she gazed around the crowded hall. Her yellow and black robes seemed to glow subtly in the candlelight.

"Aye," the woman next to her nodded, looking regal in deep blue robes lined with bronze colors. She was tall, evident even as she sat, with long black hair that tumbled around her shoulders in waves, and dark eyes set in a pale face. The severe lines around her eyes and mouth softened slightly as she gazed out at the many children that sat around the hall. "Enchanting his hat to allow it to see inside the minds of the bairns for more efficient placement into our respective houses. Ingenious really. What say you, Salazar?"

The man with the green robes and the silver beard let out a snort. "It is lazy is what I say," he said quietly as the last student was 'sorted', his voice derisive. "We had it just fine the way it was."

"Oh, honestly," the other woman spoke up, her tone exasperated. "Rowena is right, Salazar. This is much more efficient than how it was. We simply have too many students now to keep doing it the way we used to. And this way, we can be sure that the students have been sorted correctly."

"Believe what you want, Helga," the man, Salazar, stated before the man sitting next to him, and at the head of the table, stood to address everyone.

The woman that the still-seated man was speaking to, Helga Hufflepuff, straightened in her seat as things quieted down, while the woman on her other side, Rowena Ravenclaw, lifted her head regally to regard the man standing.

Salazar Slytherin's eyes hardened as he watched his friend, Godric Gryffindor, begin to address the students with what he knew would be a dull and pointless speech, so he tuned him out.

His thoughts turned inward.

Although he was pleased with the number of Slytherin students that year, his irritation had flared higher each time a new student stepped forward and he didn't recognize their name.

It seemed as if Godric had discarded his warnings about letting Muggle-borns in.

Again.

Salazar's eyes narrowed as he felt the beginnings of his anger.

He didn't clap along with everyone else after Godric finished speaking, and when he sat back down next to him, leaned over and said with steel in his tone, "We need to talk."

Godric eyed him and his serious expression out the corner of his eye. "Of course, Salazar," he answered quietly. "After the feast, of course."

After getting his agreement to talk later, it seemed to Salazar as if time dragged as slowly as possible, which only served to amp up his irritation even further. Finally, after what felt like forever to the Head of Slytherin, the meal came to an end, and all the students and other professors left for their own rooms while Godric led Salazar towards his office.

As the two men walked along, Salazar tried to dampen his irritation and anger. He wanted a calm head when he confronted his friend about the new Muggle-borns attending the school.

They reached Godric's office, and Salazar stepped in after him and closed the door.

"Now," Godric spoke up after he seated himself behind his desk. "What is it you need to speak to me about, my old friend?"

Salazar sat in the only available chair left in the room before he leaned forward intently, his eyes focused on his long-time friend. "It's about some of the new students."

Godric frowned worriedly. "'Some of the new students'?" he repeated with concern. "What is the matter? Are they alright?"

Salazar couldn't help his sneer. "Their wellbeing is fine," he stated, his tone abrupt. "But I thought we agreed last year that we wouldn't let anymore Muggle-borns be taught at Hogwarts any longer."

The Head of Gryffindor narrowed his hazel eyes. "Such words have never passed my lips," he argued. "I believe it was you who suggested that idea, and I who said 'no'."

"Why must you be so stubborn on this, Godric?" the other man demanded of his friend. "They are too dangerous to be allowed into Hogwarts!"

"No more dangerous than the other children that we teach here," Godric countered. "Each and every child here is learning how to use their magic. Them incorrectly using their magic could be just as dangerous as a dark wizard wielding their wand. Think with your head, my friend."

"That is exactly what I am doing, you simple-minded fool!" the normally composed man couldn't help but exclaim emotionally. "The Muggle-borns are dangerous! They are too close to the muggles and could end up exposing us! As much as it pains me physically to say, there are more of them then there are of us; allowing Muggle-borns to be taught here will end up hurting us in the long run, old friend."

The redhead gazed at Salazar sadly. "My friend, is there no way for you to see past this?" he asked. "Our world is as much as the muggle-born's world too. Do not let your fear cloud your mind to that."

Salazar shook his head. "Do not be ridiculous," he was quick to say, his tone firm. "I have no fear."

"No?" his friend challenged, a brow lifted in a silent dare. "True, you yourself might not be afraid of the muggles. However, I'd wager that you fear what they could do to us all."

"Lies and slander."

"Truth and accuracy," was the swift counter. "It is not so wrong to admit that you worry for us, Salazar. However, I draw the line at treating young children with disdain and contempt all because of where their blood comes from. Magic flows through their bodies; it is enough for Helga, Rowena, and I. It should be enough for you as well."

It was silent after Godric's statement. The Head of Gryffindor tried to communicate with his eyes how important he thought his opinion was to his old friend.

But Salazar would not be dissuaded so easily. "I see," he said, his voice cold. "Very well, Godric. I see that trying to talk sense into your addled mind will do me no good. I shall see you tomorrow."

And before Godric could say anything in reply, Salazar left his office, closing the door sharply behind him.

The man left in the office could only sigh. "The fear that clouds your mind, old friend, is dangerous," he murmured into the empty silence. "I only hope that you soon come to your senses."

However, if Godric had known at the time what Salazar would be pushed into doing, he would have despaired even more.