"I wanted to take a trip to The Magical Islands of the west, to bring back Unicorns to introduce to the forest, but Helga and Rowena are afraid of me encountering Veela, and never returning as a result." Said Godric, a broad smile etching across his lips. "I told them, 'I swear to Merlin that I would be able to resist them with the threat of feeling your wrath as a punishment.'" He added gleefully, as he continued to run a cloth over the blade of his sword, taking time to polish the dazzling rubies that were sunken into the hilt.
Salazar's expression tightened, and the sound of metal briskly meeting with metal became defending as he continued to heatedly sharpen his daggers. "You wouldn't have the will to resist." He said through gritted teeth.
"Nonsense, old chap!" Godric exclaimed, hitting Salazar on the shoulder after having stood up to put his sword back in the glass cabinet. He'd failed to note Salazar's sharp change of tone. "I've a will made of iron."
Salazar turned and took a grip on Godric's hand, and it took all of his will to refrain from crushing it. He watched as Godric's smile faded and his eyes narrowed with alarm. He let go a fraction of a moment later, and forced a smile. His elbows on the oak slab that had been fashioned into a table as Godric locked away his precious sword. He was too busy trying to calm his anger to notice the tiny yet largely footed creature take up hiding behind the door.
"Now, about these silks." Said Godric as he picked out a deep crimson shred of fabric from the mounded pile. "Red and Gold for Gryffindor, I think. How about Slytherin?" He went on to question, sliding a shock of bright green towards Salazar. "Green seems fitting for you."
Salazar looked up, and began to look through the fabrics before shortly retrieving pieces of silk dyed silver and emerald. "That's ghastly, Godric." He grimaced at the neon, before leaning back in his chair, his head lulling to the left. "What the-"
"Green, the colour of jealousy." Said a quiet yet squeaky voice.
"What is that doing in here?" Boomed Salazar as he picked up one of his daggers and took it to the House Elf's neck. "Were you spying?" He slithered, his eyes narrowing to slits.
"Salazar, please!" Interrupted Godric, pulling the frail House Elf from his grip. "We were only talking of house colours, not plans of treachery and secret." Godric sent the shaken Elf towards the door. "What on Earth is the matter with you today?" He sighed, and was quick to follow in the House Elf's footsteps. "You had better hope that Helga does not learn of this."
"Of course, your darling Helga would have my head on a mast for cursing an Elf, wouldn't she? Oh, I am scared, Gryffindor." Taunted Salazar, drawing his wand.
"Are you proposing that we duel?" Godric questioned. His own one wand was already in his grip. His deep brown eyes were wide and alert; his posture indicated that he was ready for a fight. A stunning spell was on the tip of Salazar's tongue when Godric shook his head and lowered his wand. "I'm going to bed before you say or do something that you might not live to regret."
He did not want to fight his friend, but he could not excuse Salazar's actions, which were becoming more unacceptable by the day. He was changing, for the worse. Just days before, Salazar had stated that only those with the purest of blood would be welcomed to Slytherin House. This open declaration of biased hierarchy had shocked the other three founders, and only Rowena seemed to understand his logic, though she in no way condoned it.
A great deal kept him from knocking. Her heart belonged to Godric, all three of them knew it, and Helga was the only one to remain oblivious to the fleeting glances that they shared and their timed disappearances. Salazar was determined to concentrate on Hogwarts, and Slytherin itself. They had already begun selecting students, and unlike Helga, who would welcome anyone so long as they had a good heart - Salazar proved very selective. But despite however important these things were to him, Rowena kept him from thinking about anything other than her. Throughout the days he what it was she saw in Godric that she did not see in him, and he would spend many a night outside her bedroom door in the highest tower of Ravenclaw. He yearned for the power to knock, to wake her from her slumber and request that she let him in. Night after night, he would leave her tower and descend into the darkness of the dungeons without her every having realised that he'd been there.