The Dirty Snake
The Dirty Snake
Chapter 2
DISCLAIMER: Sooooo incase you were thinking that I own Harry Potter and everything related, I don't. My writing skills don't nearly measure up to those of J.K. Rowling. Sorry to burst your bubble, but basically everything in this fic belongs to the amazing author of the Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling.
Salazar set down another empty bottle of firewhiskey next to the small collection at his table in the Hog's Head pub. He sat in a secluded corner of the pub, with the hood of his cloak drawn over his face. He sat, watching, the people in the pub. Some chattered merrily, some stumbled drunkenly muttering about Merlin knows what while others, like Salazar himself, sat quietly, observing their surroundings.
"Excuse me, Miss," Salazar stopped the barmaid. Dark circles under her eyes were Salazar's clue that the woman was exhausted. She had wispy dirty blonde hair streaked with gray that was pulled back haphazardly into a messy braid. Her hazel eyes at one point shone with happiness, but now only showed fatigue. The deep wrinkles imprinted upon her face only made the woman, who could not have been more that thirty years old, seem older. "I need a room, for tonight, please," he continued.
"Of course, sir," she replied, "Just for tonight?"
"Yes, please," Salazar said, despite the alcohol, he was feeling as calm and level headed as always.
"Of course, sir," she repeated, "The room," she eyed Salazar's empty bottles of firewhiskey, "Plus the firewhiskey, amounts to five galleons, please."
Salazar dug through his pocket and retrieved the five galleons and held them out to the barmaid who pocketed the gold coins.
"Do you have your things?" The barmaid enquired. Salazar silently cursed himself. Everything but the clothes on his back, his wand, the locket his mother had given him before her untimely death, and his remaining two galleons, had been left at the school. Nearly everything Salazar owned was locked away in his chambers.
"I have nothing with me," Salazar answered.
"Right, then," The barmaid said, "Follow me, please."
Salazar followed the woman through the pub, up a flight of stairs and down a hallway. The woman stopped before a door with the number seven painted on it in chipped green paint. The woman pulled out a ring of keys from her pocket, flipped through the keys before finding one labeled "7." She placed the key through the keyhole and unlocked the door.
Lighting her wand, the barmaid said, "This is your room tonight," Salazar followed the suit and lit his wand also. "If you require anything, you can find me downstairs. Have a goodnight."
"Thank you," Salazar replied, his tone was almost dismissive, although he had tried to sound friendly. The woman had noticed his tone and nodded shortly before leaving, closing the door behind her.
Salazar immediately collapsed onto his bed, which spewed a bit of dust on contact.
Where had things started to go wrong?
A week ago Salazar had been having a picnic with the other founders and now he was lying on a dusty bed in a dirty room at a dodgy pub.
Certainly, it couldn't have been long ago, everything had been perfect for the last year.
Perhaps the unraveling of the founder's friendship had begun so long ago and had happened so gradually that no one even noticed until it was too late.
Or perhaps it had only happened because Salazar chose to reveal his thoughts about the muggle-borns on a night that Godric was angry and irritable.
But Godric had been laughing and joking with them all earlier, right?
He and Godric had always gotten along, always. They had never fought before, ever. Sure they occasionally had their little tiffs here and there but they would make up right after, and nothing had ever been serious.
Although, despite being the second youngest, Godric always had been the leader of the group, although he would never do anything without his surrogate brother, Salazar's opinion. Salazar was the eldest, being twenty-three, then Rowena at twenty-two, then Godric at twenty-one, and lastly, Helga who was only twenty years old.
Perhaps Godric had snapped because he felt that his position as "Leader," was being threatened by Salazar and his new ideals. Godric could be a control freak at times.
Salazar wondered what Rowena and Helga thought about what happened. More than likely, they had both been filled in on what happened by Godric, meaning they were getting his side of the story only.
Rowena would have though everything through thoroughly. She would pull apart everything Godric had told her and pick through it, piece by piece. She would look at the story from all angles, trying to figure out the thoughts of both Salazar and Godric.
Rowena would find Helga after they had both had time to think things over, and the two girls would discuss what they thought. Then, when they reached a decision, Rowena, being the bolder of the two girls, would most likely approach whoever was nearest, (which would most likely be Godric rather than Salazar), and scold them for being immature and insensitive. She would attempt to stay neutral with Helga. When she was done with Godric, he would feel guilty. Even with someone she just met, Rowena could push someone's buttons and make them feel entirely guilty.
Some may call Rowena manipulative, but mostly, Salazar referred to her talent as "Genius." Rowena was the reason so few children at Hogwarts got in trouble, just one detention with Professor Ravenclaw, and you would never do anything wrong again.
Helga, however, would handle her grief in a totally different fashion. First, she wouldn't wait for Godric to explain, she would sprint to her chambers as soon as Godric would tell her that Salazar had left. She would go into complete denial, slamming the door to her chambers with force.
The truth would finally sink in and Helga would collapse face first onto her bed, as she burrowed beneath her blankets and sunk into her pillows. She would cry for several hours, that's just how she needed to deal with things first.
Then, after a few hours of crying, Helga would jump up, suddenly overcome by unimaginable anger that boiled inside of her, coursing through her veins and swarming her mind. She would storm into her private training room and throw every spell she knew at the indestructible wall, in hopes to destroy it.
When she was close to draining her powers, Helga would toss her wand aside and pick up her prized bow and self refilling quiver and shoot arrows at a target, while picturing Salazar or Godric's face in the middle. As violent as it seemed, that method helped Helga blow off some steam.
Suddenly, in the middle of stringing an arrow, Helga would be overcome by the thoughts of the argument, the thoughts she had been trying to avoid. She would drop her bow, arrows and quiver and run. She would run through the castle and burst though the front doors of the castle, into the thick, cold darkness of night. Then she would run.
Helga rarely ran, when she did, it meant something was troubling her. She ran to escape her thoughts temporarily, although, she knew that she would have to deal with her troubles eventually anyways.
Salazar had tried running, to push away the things he didn't want to think about once, by the recommendation of Helga. He had run five miles when he decided to stop. When he stopped his legs ached and he thought he would never move again, but he couldn't stop, so he ran some more. He ran and he ran, he wasn't even keeping track of how much he was running, but finally, he stopped, and he had to lie in bed for nearly three days due to his inability to walk on his sore legs.
But the method worked for Helga. When she finally realized that she had to deal with the thoughts plaguing her, rather than running from them, she would collapse into the dew covered grass under the early morning sun as the rest of the school awoke.
She would lay in the grass, under the shadow of the school towering over her, thinking over what Godric had told her. She would turn the story over and over in her head until she would get sick of it. She wouldn't know whose side to take, her friend, Godric's, or her surrogate brother, Salazar's. She felt loyalty to both men. Eventually, as the sun set, Rowena would fetch her friend and, in one of their chambers, they would discuss the argument in hushed tones.
Salazar knew that Helga and Rowena would be fine, but his main concern was the students. Godric would, of course, tell the students his version of the story. He would tell them that Salazar left due to his failed attempt of ridding the school of muggle-born students. The Hogwarts rumor mill would go crazy and students would form their own ideas about what happened, despite what Rowena and Helga would later tell them.
The four houses would take sides, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw would team up against Slytherin. Although, Salazar was sure that some students would think the argument over as Rowena had and choose not to take sides, mostly Ravenclaws.
Over time, the Slytherin house would become bitter and cling onto the one thing that tore the houses apart; Salazar's apparent hatred of muggle-borns. Nearly no one would know that Salazar didn't hate muggle-borns and eventually the knowledge of Salazar's non-existent hatred of muggle-borns would be lost. And, Salazar knew, that even in a thousand years, the world would still blame him, Salazar Slytherin alone, for the prejudice against muggles and muggle-borns.
Salazar knew that he needed to return to Hogwarts and talk to his fellow founders.
A/N: okay so I know what you guys are thinking, "Finally, jeez, how long does she need to update? I mean seriously, it's been like… five freaking months!"
Soooo yeah sorry, sorry, sorry! I honestly wasn't expecting to continue this or for anyone to actually read it, but due to positive feedback and the fact that its summer and my friends all ditched me for freaking California, I decided to continue it.
So I hoped you enjoyed it and I hope you review because reviews make me happy and look for an update within a week! Oh and tell me if I made any mistakes because its nearly 1 am so even though I've had my three cups of coffee today, yesterday- actually technically two days ago because technically it's Sunday… Anyways, Friday was the fourth of July and I was up until like 3 am with my friend after fireworks for that so I'm pretty tired.
Ok last thing I swear, give me constructive criticism please! Seriously, I just want to become a better writer, but that's hard to do without constructive criticism. So yeah.
ARGHH! Just kidding! This is the last thing! Thank you to my reviewers, without whom I wouldn't have continued this story. Thank you to DeathEaters, Bloodycatalchemist, merlins-most-dirty-pants, XxMemories4everxX, and Gloobery Gloobery Gumdrops.