Merlin's Pants, Help Me!
Chapter VIII
If there was anything that Godric detested the most, it was being lied to, and Salazar was completely aware of this, yet he still had the audacity to lie right to his face. The girl, Hermione Granger, was not a distant cousin of his and was undoubtedly concealing something as well. The two of them were quite keen on keeping their little secret locked away and he could not help but feel that whatever that secret was, it was of extreme importance and concerned all of them.
He drummed his fingers impatiently against the arm chair he occupied, an old habit of his that would surface when presented with a puzzle. He was no fool and knew that Salazar could not keep his eyes on the young woman forever. Godric would seize that opportunity to discover just who Hermione Granger truly was, and nothing would prevent him from doing so.
A slight moan from the cot's occupant brought Godric back from his little musings. He was not surprised when the dark-haired woman woke with a start. He knew and had trusted that Slytherin's magic would do the trick, and he did not disappoint. But even so, Godric could not help but resent the fact that such magic was something that Salazar had not earned, but rather, was born with. It was a known fact that protective magic was the rarest magic one could come by, and to have someone such as Salazar bear it and not him–he who would have been a better match; he who had never taken a life before; he who had steered as far away as he could from dark magic–was something that he would never come to understand, let alone wholeheartedly accept.
He quickly stood and moved towards the bed, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and trepidation as he stared down at the pale, dark-haired woman.
"Easy now," he whispered, reaching out for the shivering woman. He helped her to sit properly as he gathered a bunch of pillows behind her back, "How are you feeling?"
Rowena groaned in response. How did she feel? Utterly miserably; like she had been hit repeatedly with a Cruciatus curse. She could not move much, it was as though her limbs were still asleep; her eyes began to tear up, her vision slightly blurred as if she had spent years immersed in nothing but darkness.
"Rowena?" Godric called out hesitantly as he looked at her, wondering if she was suffering from the side-effects of the curse.
She took a deep breath and raised her chin, her eyes held his and she attempted to crack a smile but failed miserably. "Ugh, I feel like shit," she complained quietly. "What happened?" Her dark brows furrowed in confusion as she inquired.
"You mean to tell me that you do not remember?" Godric asked in concern.
She gazed up at her friend and sensing his unease placed a hand on his, squeezing it gently, as she spoke, "I remember the dead centaurs…and then nothing," she said quietly. And when he avoided her gaze, she knew something was amiss, "Godric…for how long have I been–"
"I thought I was going to lose you," he confessed as he gave her hand a soft squeeze of his own. "I thought Salazar would not make it here in time," he paused, "I do not know what I would have done had he not arrived promptly."
"But he has," she said and nodded slowly. "He always does, Godric," her voice barely a whisper, as the feeling of exhaustion coursed through her body; "He always comes back to us…to you." She restated so as to strengthen her last statement. She knew of the males' constant bickering even when they tried to hide it from her and Helga.
Godric clenched his jaw as his hold on her hand intensified, "Sometimes, I wish he did not."
Rowena's eyes widened and she looked at Godric as if he was an entirely different man. "Godric!" she sounded like a mother scolding her child, "How can you say that? This is Salazar that we are talking about!" For a moment he looked ashamed of his own words but the hint of resentment was obvious in his gaze so she continued, "He is young, I admit that he has not been on his best behavior, but–"
"Stop!" Godric interrupted fiercely, removing his hand from hers. He straightened up and looked at her, "You and Helga keep on protecting him! You keep on making excuses but you are blind to who he truly is! And now he brings some lass from only Merlin knows where, who does not even speak our language, and he dares to make a fool out of me when he claims her to be a Slytherin!"
Rowena took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She really did not feel like arguing at the moment nor did she have the strength to do so. Waking up to this was not really what she had in mind. Surely, he could have waited for her to feel slightly better to have one of his little dramatic rants. Wait a minute, a lass? Salazar?
"A lass?" she voiced, frowning as fragments of her dream started to take place. She slowly raised a hand to rub at her left eye and shot him a questioning look.
"Yes, a lass; Hermione Granger from Prussia." He answered and then laughed bitterly, "Yes! That was exactly the look I had when Salazar lied directly to my face."
Rowena shook her head slowly. "Hermione?" she repeated the name and felt sick to the core of her very being.
"Yes," he replied and took notice of how pale she looked. "Are you alright? What is wrong?" he asked, his voiced laced with deep concern. He moved a hand to her forehead but found that her body temperature was rather normal, "I will fetch Salazar."
"No."
"Rowena," Godric started warningly but she cut him off.
"Do not Rowena me Godric Gryffindor," she snapped, catching the man off guard with her brusque tone, "I am fine. I just need to rest. Helga and Salazar may see me after I take a nap and a bath."
The man took a deep breath, not wanting to push her patience any further. "Very well. I shall leave you then."
Rowena said nothing as she watched him leave the room. Only when he was gone did she allow herself to take a deep breath. She focused her thoughts on the lass that Salazar had apparently brought along with him. Hermione…she was one hundred percent sure that that was the name she had heard in her dream. She shook her head and raised her hands up to her messy hair. She felt that she needed to remember something important. Something that had been shown to her in her dream, but she could not figure out what that something was.
Once the red-haired little girl concluded her song, everyone returned to their seats and resumed eating. Hermione's eyes scanned the table and the only food she found available was bread, bread and more bread. She spotted something that could have been cheese but she dared not try it. She noted that there was also wine, and she vaguely remembered that breakfast–in this era anyways–was not considered the most necessary and important meal of the day. In fact, to be able to have breakfast everyday was something that was considered to be a luxury.
As she reached for more bread, she took notice that the Great Hall was becoming emptier by the minute. She looked up when both Helga and Frederic stood up; both were kind enough to wish her a good day while the other professors merely chose to ignore her existence, which suited her well either way. It was just her and Salazar now, and as she turned to look at him, she found him looking ahead, clearly lost in his own thoughts and completely unaware that everyone else was gone.
She noticed that he did that a lot; he would lock himself away alongside his thoughts and it often made her wonder what it was that he was thinking about. She realized that even though she had been on the road with the man for days on end–and aside from the emergence of the existent bond that had been formed between them on their travels, which she could no longer ignore–she knew nothing of him. Which she supposed was only fair, since she was not willing to share any information about herself with him either.
She coughed into her hand, a pretence to clear her throat when in actuality she was really trying to get his attention, and when that did not seem to work, she hesitantly poked his right arm, "Salazar?"
The sound of her voice immediately did the trick and his head snapped towards her. "Yes?" he asked and then it seemed to sink in that it was just the two of them left.
Hermione eyed him curiously. Did he not have a class to teach? Was he not a professor here? What did he do then, whenever he was at Hogwarts? And how could he be a professor if he spent most of his time running away on mysterious errands? She thought back to the creepy man at the Inn and how Salazar had come to her rescue as an example; he had been after the man but had never disclosed his purpose.
"There are things that require my immediate attention," he suddenly spoke. "I need to go to the Forbidden Forest," he elaborated when she looked slightly confused, "There is a student missing and despite the daily search parties, we have not been able to locate him."
A student went missing? That was horrible. She could now see why he looked so weary and uneasy. A student missing was not a good thing at all. She knew the Forbidden Forest was dangerous–as it was terribly so even in her own time line–but to think that perhaps in this period, it could be so much more was truly a terrifying thought.
"Salazar that is horrible," she spoke, her hand now resting on his forearm. "How long has the student been missing for?" she asked, squeezing his arm gently.
"A week," he replied and sighed loudly, "I would be at ease if you–"
Hermione's eyes widened, "A week!?" She interrupted him, "A bloody week!?"
"Yes, that is exactly what I just–"
"That's beyond horrible! A defenseless child in that forest! By Merlin's beard Salazar, we have to find the child!"
Salazar blinked slowly and took notice of how she just made it known that she was one hundred percent aware of the Forbidden Forest and how dangerous it could be. He took a deep breath. Had they not been successful in turning the damned place into something harmless where students could go in and out of as they pleased, even in her time? As he looked down at her, he wondered just how far ahead she was from the future. He wanted to ask her that and so many more questions but he knew that she was nowhere near ready to reveal anything important to him. So for now, he would take his time and wait for the appropriate moment to make his inquiries.
"We?" he asked her, now slightly amused that she wished to go along.
"Yes! I am going with you. I cannot just sit here all day and do absolutely nothing." She said and crossed her arms around her chest, giving him a stubborn look.
He smiled at her stubbornness. Honestly, not even Rowena was this stubborn! He raised an eyebrow when she would not look away, almost as if she were daring him to tell her that she could not tag along. And he was very tempted to tell her so, but he knew that she was not just a helpless little girl; she could be useful to him in the search.
"Very well," he conceded and watched as she relaxed and greeted him with a wide grin.
"I knew you'd see reason," she replied and dragged her chair backwards before she stood up and looked at him again. "Well? What are we waiting for?"
He looked at her and smirked. He could not help but find the witch increasingly interesting as time passed. There was a sparkle in her lovely brown eyes that cried out for adventure and he abruptly wondered what house she had belonged to in her own time period. No, it was better if he not know.
"Let us go then," he said as he too stood up, taking notice of just how petite she was compared to him and most of the women he associated with. However that meant nothing when it came to the use of a wand and he'd seen her use it, she was a fighter, and of that he was sure.
It didn't take them long to reach their desired destination. They stood side by side, facing it: the Forbidden Forest. Both wore determined masks as they gazed at the looming beast before them–for that is what it seemed to be, a beast ready to consume them whole; the trees, silent sentinels to the creatures that dwelled within. It was Salazar who broke the silence, as he turned to look at Hermione and placed both hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him.
"No matter what, do not leave my sight. Do you understand, Hermione?"
She looked up at him and drew her brows together. She did not know whether to feel insulted that he did not trust her enough to hold her own or flattered to have him fret over her. She sighed and nodded but made sure to roll her eyes to let him know that she was not happy being coddled. He saw her eye roll and snorted at the girl's nerve but did not comment on it.
The two of them walked side by side, their wands drawn. Salazar had his gaze fixed ahead of them, he knew that whatever had hurt Rowena was still here but definitely not this close to the castle, or at least hoped so. As Salazar walked ahead of her with caution, Hermione walked bravely behind him, not for a moment did her steps falter and it was clear that she did not fear the Forbidden Forest. No, she did not hesitate because she had been here many times before.
"How many times have you been here?" he asked her, trying to keep his tone light, almost as if the answer did not interest him.
She glanced at him and a small smile adorned her features. "Plenty," she admitted, confirming his suspicions, "I lost count of how many school rules, Ronald, Harry and I broke."
Salazar arched an amused brow, "And there would be no punishment?" he asked in surprise. They were very strict with school rules; maybe that was not the case in the future. How odd.
She chuckled and shook her head, "Oh no, of course there was. We would have detention…mostly Ron and Harry to be honest."
He nodded and wondered if Ron and Harry were her siblings. It was not unusual to have siblings attending the school all at the same time. He suddenly took a second look at her, just how old was she? Frowning, he kept his attention on her, which did not go unnoticed by the bushy-haired witch who cast him an odd look.
"Is there something wrong?" she questioned curiously.
"Well, yes. It must be hard…," he started, not knowing how quite to go on about it without offending her, "to be separated from your family, friends and…husband."
At his words, the young woman froze in her steps and without warning burst out laughing. Upon seeing his confused and somewhat offended expression, she held out a hand and shook her head, "No! Goodness no! I am not married!"
He frowned again at her response even though he could not figure out why for the life of him he was so relieved to hear it.
"But it is very common for women your age to be married and even have born children," he said in a nonchalant tone.
She huffed, "Thank Merlin it is not like that where I come from," she said as she scanned her surroundings since both were now deeper into the forest. "Women in my time choose when and whom to marry." She replied looking up at him, observing the way his eyes widened slightly at her statement.
"You jest."
"I am serious." She countered and flashed him a smile, "Things are very different where I hail from."
He said nothing for a while and tried to imagine a world where women had a say on such matters but he simply could not. It was absurd that women should be allowed the freedom to do as they pleased, to remain unmarried, and have the ability and option to decline marriage proposals.
"I bet that is a lot to take in," Hermione added as she smirked at him. "Women, in my time period, are powerful and feared." She loved seeing the shocked expression on his face. "In fact–" she never got to finish her sentence as out of nowhere a piercing scream ripped through the air. High and shrill, the barely human shriek echoed into the forest and both Hermione and Salazar turned to look toward the source.
Hermione felt her blood turn into ice as she realized that the frightening sound came from the trees to their right.
Another scream, this one was long and tore through the air and Salazar's heart lurched. "ARVAIN?!" he called out, his wand ready to face whatever was out there.
Hermione looked over at Salazar and realized that the boy was someone he knew. He looked genuinely concerned and she could not help but feel the same. She looked around as the scream had sounded more distant this time, almost as if whatever was out there knew that they were there on the hunt for someone.
"I have never heard anything like this before," Hermione whispered as she walked slowly, trying to keep their noise at a minimum.
"Nor have I," Salazar replied and inhaled deeply as he moved after her. He moved a hand to her shoulder and when she glanced at him over her shoulder he shook his head. "You stay behind me," and then just as she was about to protest, he pressed a finger to her lips, "I am not asking."
She glared at him and slapped his arm away. She knew he only wanted the best for her but she was not a helpless little girl. She would have protested further but found that now was not the place to do so. She followed behind him, often looking over her shoulder as she did not wish for them to be surprised from behind. She saw Salazar moving ahead of her with a practiced ease. She knew he was used to being out in the wilderness but he moved with a confidence that far surpassed anything she had ever seen before. Did he really think himself to be indomitable?
Rolling her eyes, she thought back to when he had had a wand pointed at his neck. Even then, he had been one arrogant prick, daring the man to kill him. Almost as if he thought himself untouchable; she could not help but wonder why. Why would he think himself to be so far superior to all others that he was certain they would be too frightened to lay a finger on him, let alone slay him?
A twig snapped somewhere to his left and Salazar jerked his head in that direction. He stilled his breath and listened. He raised a hand at Hermione and she came to an abrupt halt. She heard it now: another snap, this time louder.
"Stay here," he abruptly ordered and advanced toward the noise he had just heard. Not bothering to hide his progress, he pushed aside branches as he walked, letting them whip back to their original positions when he passed. He took a deep breath and clenched his jaw as he heard Hermione following right after him.
Stubborn little witch!
He broke through the branches, Hermione hot on his heels, and when she too emerged from the trees, what met her eyes was nothing she had ever seen, nor wanted to see ever again. She let out a loud gasp and quickly covered her mouth, almost gagging at the smell of the decaying bodies. She could see several centaurs, all of them dead, scattered across the clearing. She watched as Salazar stepped up, hesitantly, to the closest centaur and knelt down to get a look. It seemed like even the birds had quieted, as if they had known this place to be off limits. Hermione neared him as she took in the horrible scene before her.
"Do not touch it!" He all but warned her, his chest tight–was what had done this still lurking in the forest?
Hermione quickly knelt next to him, "There are no visible wounds on any of them."
He jerked his head toward her and nodded, "Rowena got sick as she attempted to heal one of them. They reek of dark magic." He whispered.
Before Hermione could even begin to think of what might have happened to the creatures, another twig broke, this time straight in front of her, right behind the trees.
Suddenly, another snap was heard, then another. It was approaching them fast.
And then she saw him.
The boy came out of the trees; she was rooted to the spot, her gaze fixed on the boy's unnaturally pale skin and enormous eyes. The boy leaped into the air and was suddenly on top of her, slamming into her shoulders; he was incredibly strong for such a small boy. Hermione crashed to the ground and hit the back of her head quite hard, muddling both her vision and the rest of her senses.
"Arvain!" Salazar called out pushing the boy away from Hermione. He watched as the boy struggled, emitting strange guttural sounds, sounding much like a feral, wild animal.
"Let me go!" Arvain shrieked, spittle flying from his mouth. "She needs to die! She needs to die! She changed everything! It is all her fault!"
"Calm down, Arvain!" Salazar ordered, his voice calm, as he continued to restrain the still struggling boy. "She is a friend."
Hermione was once again standing and took an involuntary step back, horrified by what the boy had just shouted.
"SHE DOES NOT BELONG!" Arvain shouted, "I saw it–it will not stop…it will not stop until she is dead!"
"All right, that is enough!" Salazar leaned down and whispered a single word and the boy fell limp in his arms. He then carefully picked him up and regarded Hermione silently. The two stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity until he finally broke the silence, "You understand the consequences of you being here, do you not?"
The world seemed to tilt around her and she nodded slowly, eyes searching; trying to read him but his face was a blank mask. Unreadable. And it terrified her.
The horses ran faster than the wind itself; the men were quiet but their grief, their anger and their hatred spoke volumes amidst the silence. It showed on their hardened faces and shone in their tear-filled eyes. The images of what used to be one of the most scenic and prosperous wizarding villages was now forever engraved in their minds as a vision of death and decay; the smell of burnt flesh still permeated the air that they breathed as they rode on, away from the decimated village. The sight of children–innocent children–impaled on spears was too much to bear.
Everyone knew what this act meant. There would be no denying it now. The council would see this as an act of war.
Retribution would be in order.
And that meant that prominent wizarding families would have to elect sides.
When they returned to the castle, Salazar quickly and abruptly dismissed her. He ran off carrying an unconscious Arvain in his arms. Hermione stood back, watching him go with a heavy heart as his last words played over and over in her mind. She only moved when the tall blonde-haired male was completely out of her range of sight. He was right of course. She had started to realize the consequences of her staying here in this era way before the boy's sudden outburst, but now it became much clearer that she was something dangerous to these people. Things were already starting to change and she could not shake the selfish feeling she held in her heart, despite the repercussions of her arrival. She didn't want to leave.
Even though she realized that she must, for the sake of these people–and specifically, for the sake of her future–she knew that she could not stay. It was just like Arvain had said, she did not belong. She had Harry and Ron….her mum and dad too.
As she paced back and forth in her room, she finally changed direction and walked towards the window. Opening it, she could feel the gentle wind caress her skin but then her gaze caught the sight of dozens of men riding horses, coming right through the main gates.
And she knew.
Something was about to change. Nothing would be the same ever again. Not for the people here. And she wondered, what did that mean for her?
Helga watched as men barked at each other, wizards or not, they were all the same. They were nothing but barbarians that did not know how to make their point across without shouting obscenities or drawing their wands at each other's throats. She sighed deeply, watching as both Godric and Slytherin tried to keep everyone calm, as they tried to establish order and prevent the other men from firing spells at one another. She in all honesty could not remember a time where both males were actually being agreeable to one another, let alone on the same side of an argument.
The door to the room was suddenly pushed open and its loud noise seemed to interrupt the commotion for just a second. Helga's gaze met Rowena's dark eyes and she quickly stood from her perch to come to her aid but Rowena halted her, holding a hand up. She looked pale, Helga concluded, but much better than she had a few days prior when she was still lying in bed, comatose.
The dark-haired woman's brows were pushed together at the sight of the grimy men waving their wands around as if they were mere toys. She coughed, to gather their attention but when that failed, she did what she did best, she shouted. "EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Typical Rowena, she never changes. Helga allowed a small smile to play on her lips. Her friend really ought to learn some proper etiquette; she was not acting as a lady should. Clearly, growing up with six brothers had shaped Rowena into doing and saying whatever she pleased without thinking of the consequences of her words and actions.
Godric quickly whirled around, concern now swathed his features as he beheld Rowena. "You should be resting."
"And you should have sent for me the minute this lot arrived." She responded, her tone scolding, making Salazar whistle slightly earning him a glare of her own, one that he received with a grin. Cheeky little bastard.
"I am glad to see you well, my friend," he walked up to her, standing by her side, moving a hand to her shoulder and squeezing it softly, relaying the relief of his words with that one action. Trust men to avoid sentimental words completely, actions are their methods; after all actions speak louder than words. She would know, having six brothers and all.
Beaming, Rowena placed her own hand on top of his and returned the favour, patting his hand before lowering her arm, his own hand remaining on her shoulder, an act of support from the comely Slytherin. "All thanks to you, I heard," she replied, her voice light and teasing as she held his eyes for but a brief moment, before returning her gaze to the crowd before her, scrutinizing the assorted individuals present. What was going on to have all these men–furious and at each other's throats–gathered here, at Hogwarts? What were Godric and Salazar hiding from her?
She stepped away from Salazar and looked at Helga–who had remained where she had been seated moments before her entrance–who greeted her with a hesitant smile now on her features. Quickly she moved onto Godric, who seemed tense and out of sorts, and then back to Salazar who seemed almost relaxed, but the barely noticeable crease in his brow belayed his nonchalant appearance. Waiting for one of them to speak up, she continued switching her gaze back and forth from Salazar to Godric; Helga in this case would not be much of assistance to her as the two men would be. However, neither spoke; it seemed they did not wish to divulge anything to her. Well then, if they won't answer, I shall take matters into my own hands.
She raised her chin slightly and making her way to the nearest chair available to her, she raised her voice, so as to be heard clearly among the racket. "Now, fill me in," she all but ordered as she lowered herself onto the chair, clasping her hands in her lap as she regarded the men calmly from her perch. At first no one spoke, but soon after, shouts rang out amongst the crowd of men, phrases here and there making it through the cacophony of sound. And what she did manage to hear did not bode well.
"….BLOODY MURDERED AN ENTIRE VILLAGE!" A blonde-haired man exploded, punching the table nearest him. At his outburst the men near him jumped back slightly, giving him room, and the noise level slowly began to decrease as images of the village flashed through their mind's eye. The mood quickly became somber.
"He has been gathering far too many men–" A shout was heard from somewhere to her far left, but Rowena was not too sure from who it came from, as there was a cluster of men there, nodding their heads in accordance to the man's utterance.
"We all know who is behind this!" A collective murmur of agreement rose from the crowd as they looked at one another and then the Founders, who remained quiet as they registered what the men were saying.
"CHILDREN IMPALED!" Another man shouted in absolute fury; flesh contacting wood once again rang out in the room. Helga gasped at the information, clutching her hands to her chest as she looked on. Who would do such a thing? What human being would so willingly take the lives of innocents without remorse?
"ON BLOODY SPEARS!" Another added with a loud growl. Helga looked away, and Rowena closed her eyes as she quelled her sadness. It would not do for her to allow her emotions get in the way, and from the looks of Helga, she too was trying to prevent an outcry of discontent. Indeed, it would not do to react as these men before her, regardless of the monstrosity of the act committed.
"Jonathan."
The name sounded quietly, a whisper among the men, each looking at one another and nodding in affirmation. Yes, it could only be Jonathon, only he would be able to commit such a monstrosity. Rowena opened her eyes, clasping her hands tightly, her knuckles an alarming shade of white, as she looked at both Godric and Salazar. The men returned her gaze with somber looks and she quickly cast her gaze to Helga, but the poor woman was seated and staring numbly at her clasped hands, her blond locks falling over her shoulders. She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. It seemed that everything was pilling on top of them, first the assassination of the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest; the curse she was placed under and was fortunate enough to have been freed from with the aid of Salazar, and now this? She knew what needed to be done.
"It is time," Rowena breathed out. Once again she closed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose as she released another breath of air, "Send the owls. The council must be held as soon as possible." However, before any action could be taken, a loud hiss of air was heard, rooting everyone to their spots.
"So it is settled then!?" The intimidating figure of Godric Gryffindor demanded. His fury was palpable, coursing through the air in streams of light–he was beyond livid, he was infuriated that they would try to drag the council into this. "He is only but a man!" What need did they have to summon the council? One man could not illicit such an urgent response? What was Rowena thinking?
"With an army behind him lad! I don't know where or how he got one, but he needs to be stopped!" A large man with a red-beard roared, clearly disapproving of Godric's exclamations. Did the boy not understand that a man, especially one of Jonathan's caliber, could cause great harm to their society? Now was not the time for acts of youthful hubris. The council was needed, and urgently, for the safety of the rest of the wizarding villages yet untouched by Jonathon and his legion.
"You should have killed him when you had the chance," Salazar hissed out as he directed a cold glare in Godric's direction. At his utterance the room fell completely silent, the gathered men and female half of the Founders observed both males, all knowing the history behind their relationship. Rowena and Helga watch in dismay, more noticeable in Helga–who raised her hands to her mouth as she shook her head–than Rowena, whose lips thinned out, and sat rigidly in her seat. This did not bode well for them. No. Not at all.
"Forgive me, if I am unlike you," Godric hissed out and returned his glare with equal force. He glared a while longer at Salazar before gathering himself and storming towards the doors. As he walked past the fair-haired male, he roughly jounced his shoulder. Salazar gritted his teeth and turned, watching Godric storm out, his fists clenched before turning to face the remaining individuals in the room. All was silent as he looked at them. The men were shifting, avoiding eye contact with him and he scoffed at them before he turned his gaze to Helga, who had remained quite during the unfolding events. She gazed at him, near tears, and shook her head before looking away; it looked like she was ready to bolt. His gaze softened for a moment, but then hardened once again when he saw her rise and practically dash out of the hall, not even sparing him a glance, her hair fanning out before her as she fled.
He clenched and unclenched his fists as his shoulders became rigid. He turned away from the door, and glanced at Rowena, who observed him with a straight face, and despite the calmness she exuded, her eyes said it all. She looked upon him with pity. Pity? As if he, Salazar Slytherin, needed pity? The nerve of her! He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he cast one last look at the people gathered in the hall–who seemed to jump in their shoes at the frigidity in his gaze–before turning around without another word. His hair arced through the air as he made his turn, before settling neatly back onto his shoulders, as he too followed in his fellow Founders' footsteps, and with a grace that only he could possess, walked out of the hall, head high and shoulders tense.
The men gathered glanced at one another nervously, before looking at the last remaining Founder. Rowena sighed and rubbed at her temples. This was not turning out to be a good day at all. She was not even awake for a full day and already everything had gone to hell, all nine levels of them. Giving a tight smile to the remaining men, she once again repeated her orders, and watched as several men scurried off to send out the owls, while others looked to Rowena for guidance.
She sighed again. Might as well get used to it, she thought, as she signaled for the last few remaining the men to follow her. After this, she was returning to her cot, she definitely did not need this, not after a near death experience.
Author's Note: Say, If you cast Salazar, Godric, Rowena and Helga for a movie, who would you pick?! Please let me know in a review! I am trying to work on a trailer for this story. It would be interesting to know your opinions.
Thank you as always for reading.