HA! I hath returned. Many apologies for the update delay. Let's just say that exams are evil.
I owe xLady-Helenax my life, for all the beta-ness she has done for me. (But don't tell her!)
Lastly, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to 13figureskater-Draco'sgirl because...?
a) She's awesome
b) She writes wonderful HPDM slash
c) She's writing a sweet story about the Founders! (I DEMAND that you go check it out. It's called The Keepers of Wisdom.)
d) All of the above
The answer is d) All of the Above. Just in case you didn't get that.
A heavily cloaked man stepped into a sweltering, misty pub, walking past the crowd of loud and intoxicated people to the counter. He picked a stool, leaving one in between him and the next man over, who was also cloaked. He stretched his legs, glad for the chance to rest. They were stiff from a long day of travelling.
His nose filled with the aroma of drink and smoke; quite a change from the fresh outdoor smell that his senses were now used too. He coughed a little, after inhaling too much of the hazy air at once.
The barman approached, as he cleaned a glass with a cloth.
"What can I get you, sir?" he asked lazily.
"Scotch whisky, please," the man answered. The barman wandered off to get the drink, leaving the man alone to survey the room.
Like any pub, the room was completely full. There were people who sat alone to the edges of the room, enjoying their drinks in solitude, and everyone else was either social by nature, by already knowing many of the people from elsewhere, or having been softened with alcohol.
Large groups of rowdy men laughed and told tales, amusing each other and having a grand time. At the far end of the room, a couple of young men played the fiddle while others danced and sang along to the familiar Scottish tunes.
A glass clinked down in front of him, and he turned back towards it, causing his bushy dark brown hair to cascade over his face.
"Thank you," he offered, taking the glass and bringing it to his lips. Smooth liquid slid across his tongue and down his throat, instantly calming his senses. He slowly sipped at it, getting used to the taste. It was stronger than he was familiar with, and it took effect on him quicker. He set the glass down, taking a break to digest.
It had been a thoroughly tiring day. He had been on the road for the better half of a week already, traveling without destination. He yearned to find his calling, his purpose. He knew he would not find it in his West Country home, but that didn't mean he knew where he would find it.
A part of him just knew – knew that he needed to be elsewhere, with different motives, alongside different people. He was not frightened of the untamed world, and therefore he set off alone to discover the mysteries of his being.
He was slowly picking up his glass to take a drink before continuing his strenuous thoughts when a feminine shriek rang through the building.
He turned, as did the man who sat to his side. They saw a woman in the middle of the room, surrounded by men. He hadn't noticed her before; she appeared to be one of the only females in the room.
"Snake!" another voice cried out in fright.
Many people gasped or yelled, and some jumped up onto the table.
"A snake got inside!" yet another voice called, as though people needed more warning.
Indeed, on the ground, both men sitting at the bar saw a snake. A Vipera Berus slithered beneath the tables and meandered between the legs of various chairs, making people flinch with fright. The creature didn't seem intent on harming anyone; perhaps it simply wanted to get out of the cool, crisp air outside.
The man set his glass down on the table again and made to stand. He was not afraid of snakes, and if there was something he could do to help these people, he would do it.
Before he could make a move, however, he heard a faint hissing noise. He watched the Viper, wondering how he could hear its hissing from such a distance, within such ruckus. He then realized that the sound was not coming from straight ahead, but from his side.
Instantly, the snake stopped moving, and raised its head in the air. A moment later, it was sliding its way towards the door, leaving a path of nervous people in its wake. No one spoke, as it promptly made its way out the propped open door into the fresh night.
Silence, both fearful and amazed stretched across the room. A fiddler accidently let his bow slip through his inactive fingers and a solemn note played just loud enough for all to hear.
It broke the ice, and noise filled the room once again, getting gradually louder as people got over the shock of the snake. The men at the bar returned to their drinks.
The darker man said nothing, even though the other stole glances in his direction. He took a swig of his scotch whisky.
"So, do you talk to snakes often?" the man said suddenly, unable to contain the question.
The other did not move, or acknowledge that any words had been spoken. He continued to look forward, into the light brown ale in front of him.
"You know, your silence makes me all the more curious," he added, determined to pry some words from the gentleman two seats over.
"I do not comprehend that which you are referring too," the dark man finally supplied. "One cannot speak to snakes; the concept is ridiculous."
"Ah, but it isn't ridiculous, is it? To a muggle, it may be, but not to a Parselmouth."
The other man stirred. His attention was finally focused on the brown-haired man, brought to awareness with the words "muggle" and "Parselmouth".
"Mmm, that's what I thought." He drank a little more, giving the Parselmouth time to speak.
"Be wary of what words you speak aloud. To a muggle, you would sound similar to a raving madman," the dark man finally said.
"Maybe I am a raving madman. Ever think of that?" the other responded, a smirk playing along his face.
The darker one sighed. "I apologize for my frankness, sir, but simply being bred from similar lines of genealogy with certain – interesting – abilities, does not make us companions," he said in a low, threatening voice.
"No matter, I don't come from these parts, nor will I be staying here," the man replied, not at all disturbed by the other man's coldness.
"Ah, it appears we have something in common after all," the quick reply came, startling the brown-haired man.
"You're traveling? On your own?" He curiously asked.
The other nodded. "I search for a place to accomplish my desires, with people who share my vision." He then tipped his glass to his mouth and took a hearty gulp.
"I wish to accomplish much the same," the man stated, "though I have yet to focus on one passion. I simply wish to make my mark on the world, and achieve something great in the world of wizardry." He finished the sentence in a low voice, avoiding being overhead.
For the first time, the other man looked up at him, straight into his eyes. The hood of his cloak fell away from his face, showing a stern, serious looking visage. He turned on his stool, facing the other man who sat but two feet away.
"What be your name, good sir?" he asked.
"Gryffindor," the man replied. "Godric Gryffindor."
The other offered a hand. "Salazar Slytherin."
The wind carried the sound of laughter miles beyond the grassy meadow in which two young girls played joyously. Up the hill, their mothers picked flowers and herbs, chatting with each other all the while.
The two girls chased each other, swerving through the long blades of grass.
"Try and catch me!" the blonde cried out happily.
"As you wish!" the brunette answered, just as confident. She took off after her friend at high speed. She had long mastered the skill of sprinting in dresses, aprons, and ladies shoes. Much as their mothers attempted to contain their playful and wild nature, the two young girls could not help it.
Laughter rang through the air as Rowena caught her best friend Helga, and grabbed her around the waist. They collapsed to the ground in a fit of giggles, an arm still wrapped around each other.
The grass and plants completely enclosed them, shielding them from the world around them. Without giving a single thought to the possibility of grass stains, Helga rolled onto her knees and crawled away into the vegetation.
"Now," she said lightly, "try and find me!" Her voice disappeared, and was replaced with the rustling of grass and leaves. Rowena smirked. This would be easy! Then she would challenge Helga again, and show her what it meant to be good at hiding and running.
However, before she could make a move, she heard both her name, and Helga's name being called from the knoll. A head of brown hair popped up from the plants to see her mother. The older woman gave a gesture, and Rowena knew playtime was over.
"Helga," she hissed. "We have to go, you heard our mothers!"
No one responded.
"Helga! Let's go!" Rowena tried again, but she was still met with silence. She stood, dusted off some mud from her apron, and began searching through the grass for her well-hidden friend. There were no signs on her, not one sound.
"Helga?" Rowena asked, looking at the vast ground before her.
A sudden force collided with her back, and she was on the ground again, beneath a triumphant looking Helga. "Ha!" the blonde laughed merrily. "I got you!"
The girls laughed, and stood together. With an arm securely around each other's waist, they walked briskly up the hill to their waiting mothers.
The women instantly scolded their daughters for their reckless and unladylike behavior.
"I don't know how you expect your father and I to purchase a wand for you, my dear," Helga's mother said sternly. "I can hardly trust your manners now, and a wand would only make it worse."
"But mother, I really do want one!" Helga whined. "I want to be able to cast spells like you and father!"
"Then show me that you are responsible enough for it!" the woman replied. Rowena's mother nodded in agreement. Rowena had a wand, but she was forbidden to use it without the company of her parents.
"I will, mother, I will!" Helga stated boldly. "I want to be one of the greatest witches ever!"
Two young women, a blonde and a brunette, accompanied each other to the market. Arms linked, and baskets in their opposite hands, they walked briskly through the aisles of produce and baking products.
They chattered and laughed, enjoying each other's company, and the bright sunny day.
"I found a novel today that I believe you may enjoy," Rowena said happily. "It's all about magical plants and how they vary from some normal muggle plants."
"That sounds interesting," Helga answered. "I would love to take a look at it. I assume you found it in your library?"
"Of course, sweet Helga, where else do I get all my books with magical content?"
"I am sure that without your library, you would have come up with a way to acquire books on magic, fair Rowena."
"You may very well be correct, my dear," Rowena countered with a smile.
"I often am, am I not?" Helga joked. "I know you as well as I know myself!"
Rowena laughed, and Helga joined in. The best friends paused in their walk, and Helga added an onion to her basket. They continued towards the merchant a few paces ahead to pay for their goods.
Suddenly, they heard the clunk of horse hooves beating against the earth. The chatter of the people on the streets continued, but both Helga and Rowena turned to regard the riders. There were two of them; both upon dark brown horses.
Rowena realized instantly that they were not native to this part of the country. Between the differences in their clothes, and the amount of luggage they traveled with, she could see they had come a long way.
The riders slowed to a trot as they made their way through the crowd on the dusty streets. The two women followed them with their eyes. Neither rode afore nor behind the other, showing their equality in stature. One had bushy brown hair, and the other had straight dark hair, pulled into a knot at the nape of his neck.
Some people in the street had also stopped to see the visitors pass through, wondering who they were and where they came from. The two rode on, not making too much eye contact with the villagers.
"Who do you reckon?" Helga whispered.
Rowena shook her head slowly, telling her friend that she did not know the origins of the strange visitors. "There's something interesting about them, however, no?" she said.
"I agree," the blonde responded quietly.
Rowena looked into the dark brown eyes of one of the men, struck by the look of set determination. He looked fierce, yet merciful at the same time.
Before she knew what was happening, the man's head turned, and her gaze was met, full on, by the brown-haired man. She was shocked immobile, keeping hold of their eye contact. She felt slightly vulnerable under his stare.
He turned away as he rode further away and Rowena felt calm again, though still bothered, as if something was nagging at her from the back of her mind. She remained completely still, watching the two figures disappear, until Helga broke their silence.
"Would you be up for an answer-seeking adventure?"
Rowena gave a small grin. "Of course."
Godric and Salazar led their mounts into an open stable, unhooking their bags and leaving the animals to drink some water and take a rest. Located beside the stable was a quaint pub, with available lodgings on the top floor.
"Shall we?" Godric asked, gesturing towards the door. Salazar nodded, and fell into step with his friend. They entered the building, and found themselves a table near the back. It was very different from the pub they had first met in. It was lighter, and cleaner, and had a friendlier feel.
Godric assumed it was meant more for travelers like he and Salazar, rather than a pub for a bunch of men to get together and drink.
Like always, Godric leant back in his wooden chair, stretching his limbs and giving a good yawn as he got comfortable, while Salazar remained stiff and proper under the eyes of the general public.
"Relax," Godric said, "we're resting."
Salazar sat back a little, but did not respond.
"Shall I get us some drinks?" Godric asked, hoping to make Salazar say something so that they could talk normally.
"If you'd like," was the reply. Godric yawned again, and nodded.
"Well, what do you think of this place?" Godric tried again, prying.
"It's different," Salazar supplied. "It does not seem more right then any other village we have traveled to, but there is something about it that I like."
Godric smiled triumphantly, grateful that his dark friend had finally finished a whole sentence. He was getting better at the "friend" thing as they went along. He thought about what his friend had said, and replied.
"I have to agree," he said. "Do you think there is any chance of magic folk here?" He spoke quieter, as a couple of ladies entered and picked a table nearby.
"There really isn't any way to tell, is there?" Salazar countered, raising a questioning eyebrow.
"Sometimes there is," said Godric. "In the fine details. In some villages, the wizards like to help the muggles without their knowledge. In others, there is an element of fear associated with magic. That usually means the presence of 'strange happenings'."
Salazar nodded. "You have a point. It is obvious that you have been further across these countries then I. Then, the real question is, do you think there are any magic folk here?"
Godric laughed. "Perhaps," he said. "If there are many, they don't mix themselves up with the muggles all that much, they blend in more."
"I see," Salazar contemplated. "Shall we stay for awhile or move on?"
"I suggest we stay awhile," Godric said carefully, "To learn more about this place, not to mention the fact that we could really use a break. We can stay here, if we'd like." He nodded upwards towards the upper floor.
"Alright."
A gasp sounded from a couple tables over. Godric and Salazar looked around to see what was happening, both reminded of the first night they had met.
Over a few tables sat the two women who had come in earlier. There was a blonde and a brunette, and the first of the two was covered her mouth politely. The darker one was grinning knowingly. Salazar glared, unable to help himself. He wished he could tell how much the two females had overheard.
The blonde blushed, as the two men watched them.
"Good day," Godric said, smiling. He thought it was best to act natural, in case they were muggles and had heard them talking about magic. The less suspicious they were the better.
"Hello," Rowena responded, recovering from the shock quicker than her friend.
"Nice whether we're having?" Godric replied as though he was starting a friendly conversation. Rowena shook her head and rolled her eyes, momentarily forgetting that she was in the presence of men.
"Weather? Have you nothing better to talk about?"
Rowena's joking helped Helga feel more at ease, and she lowered her pale hand and regarded their company properly.
"Such as?" Salazar said, speaking for the first time.
"I suppose there is no use denying that we heard your conversation," Rowena started, looking at the table she was sitting at. "We saw you come into town, and we wished to know more about you."
Helga winced at Rowena's words, worried that the two men may act harshly to being followed. Rowena, however, continued on boldly, giving the men no time to react.
"You wonder if there are magic folk here?" the brown-haired lady added. "There are."
"Ah, I assume you speak of thyself?" Godric asked, making absolute sure he understood.
"Yes," Rowena whispered, leaning across the table to be closer to Godric. "May I ask who you might be?" she asked politely.
"Salazar Slytherin," Salazar offered immediately, surveying Rowena.
"I am Godric Gryffindor," the other man followed, smiling at both ladies.
Helga bowed her head courteously. "Helga Hufflepuff," she added.
"Rowena Ravenclaw," Rowena said with a smile.
Did I just write my very own filler? I think I did. Hope you liked it!
Disclaimer: If I said Harry Potter and all related characters were mine, would you believe me? Didn't think so.
Thank you for reading, please review!
-D0nQuix0te
