Chapter four: The Third Rule

Mother and Father,

Let's get this over quickly, shall we?

I am:

Healthy;

Fond of the beard;

Not using the above phrase as a euphemism for sexual practise.

I am not:

Married;

Busy spawning a pureblood heir to the Slytherin line;

Raising an army of the un-dead to pray on the souls of the living deemed unworthy;

Going to cut my hair.

I may, however, have finally landed a career that captures my interest and could provide, if so wished, a key to achieving the above points. Except the last one. I refuse to offer you any further details as I am sure you will make your own investigations anyway, in which case I say bugger you.

Yours,

Salazar

PS, Please may I have some more money?

June continued to be hot, sticky and uncomfortable. Sat in their usual outdoor spot beneath the kind of canopy of tree branches, Rowena had just finished telling Helga of the most recent developments in the school department.

Birds sang. Branches moved in the gentle, warm breeze. The sun winked in the clear, blue sky. Helga Hufflepuff looked ready to foam at the mouth.

'S-S-Slythie…' she managed to stammer, after a stunned pause.

'Um…yes,' said Rowena, discreetly shielding herself behind a book.

'You're - you're kidding, aren't you?'

'Yes!'

'You're not kidding, are you?'

'…No.' She winced. 'Sorry.'

Helga's mouth fell slightly agape, and stayed that way for some time. Looking closely, Rowena wondered if her eyes were glazed over.

'Helly?' Rowena ventured, after a few silent moments. 'Are you alright?'

'I…I'm in shock,' she said, a look of despair on her face, 'I think I need to lie down and…die.'

'Come on Helly,' Rowena pleaded, discreetly edging further towards her friend in case she should live up to her word. 'You've got to trust me on this.'

'I trust you, Ro, but not Slytherin! He's—he's pure evil!' she cried, never one for melodrama.

'Oh come on,' said Rowena, with a dismissive wave of her hand, 'I'm sure he's not evil-evil.'

'Pah!'

'Well, not pure evil. More…more of a shouting at old ladies and laughing at injured children kind of evil, rather than torturing bunnies and setting villages on fire. Right?'

'Wrong!'

'Helga! Look at his face,' she said, gesturing to Slytherin who approached them grumpily from several yards away. 'Isn't that a face you'd trust with your bunny rabbits? Or villages, for that matter?'

'He wouldn't hurt bunnies or village folk.'

'Exactly.'

'…He'd turn the village folk against each other until he achieved civil war, then provoke the bunnies into a bloody uprising against the surviving villagers and force them to crown him as their leader!'

Rowena nodded grudgingly. 'Ok, you're probably right. In which case, we'll just have to just enforce a restriction on how many bunnies we let him get his hands on.'

'Ro—'

'Helly, he's rich! We need him! We'll just make a conscious effort to avoid contact with him at all costs.'

'Can we start now?' Helga asked quietly, as he reached them.

Towering above them, with arms folded and head held high, Slytherin smirked. The mere shaping of his lips was an action all of its own, as was the narrowing of his eyes as he glared down at Rowena like some kind of vengeful god.

Eyes squinted, with a hand on her brow to protect herself from the sun behind his head, Rowena prompted:

'Yes?'

'Rules,' he said, in response.

'Rules?'

'If I'm going to go ahead with this God-awful plan, we need to lay down some rules.'

Rowena glanced at Helga. Helga shook her head violently. 'Er…such as?'

'First of all,' he said, leaning against a tree, 'any money I put into this will be returned to me within a month, should it fail. Alright?'

Rowena and Helga exchanged glances, the latter girl shrugging.

'Alright,' said Rowena, also shrugging.

'Secondly, my family's colours are, and always have been, green, black and silver. This will continue for as long as I see fit; on no account will the Slytherin colours become any shade of pink, yellow, blue or any other colour that looks overly cheerful in pastel. Alright?'

'Er…okay.'

'Thirdly, I will not have anything to do with a school that contains either of your names in the title; no Hufflepuff's School of How to Be Incredibly Dull or Ravenclaw's Study of How to Achieve the Most from Your Coiffure. Agreed?'

'Oh,' said Rowena, quite disappointed, 'alright. I suppose.'

'Next, you should be aware I have special dietary requirements.'

'Virgin blood?'

'Wheat, actually.'

'Oh. Alright.'

'Next rule: I will be teaching the lesson of my choice when term begins. Agreed?'

'As long as it's not charms or transfiguration,' said Rowena, 'Helga and I are doing those.'

Rolling his eyes, he replied, 'Oh good Lord, how disappointed I am. Charms and transfiguration are my two favourite subjects in the world—'

'Alright, alright,' she waved a hand. 'Whatever.'

'Excellent.' He bristled proudly and, with a vicious little grin, declared, 'Final rule: as the only financier of this stupid project I will be in the highest position of power, particularly over you sorry little plebs. When I say "here", you'll come running. When I say "talk", you'll tell me all I need to know. When I say "jump", you'll—'

'—Kick you in the privates,' Rowena interrupted, 'no chance, Slytherin. No deal.'

'Oh, fine. I knew it was a long shot. Everything else is agreed?'

'I hate your face,' said Helga, staring at him through steely eyes, 'I sodding hate your face.'

Salazar grinned. 'That's a yes?'

Rowena shrugged. 'I'm fairly sure she wasn't aware she was saying that out loud, but yes, certainly.' She had a sudden brainwave, and added, 'But now you have to agree to our rules.'

'Oh, ye Gods…'

'First rule!' Rowena began excitedly, before trailing off. She turned to Helga, and the two of them carried out a hushed conversation that lasted for several minutes. Occasional giggles and hisses of "Eugh!" escaped the conversation. Salazar worked intently on raising his eyebrows and looking impatient, every so often leaning forwards in a vain attempt to hear in. He was fairly certain "bunnies", "Satan" and "utter tit" were mixed in there.

'Thought of anything yet?' he eventually demanded, quite sure he was being made a fool of.

'Stop being so impertinent,' Rowena replied, readdressing him at long last. 'Now, first rule: any attempts made to begin a rebellion of any kind, involving any type of domesticated pet or local person, must be quashed immediately.'

'What?'

'Just agree!'

'Fine, I agree. You utterly strange people,' he added, as Helga sighed in relief.

'Second rule: please make an active effort to be less of a git.'

'Can't promise anything.'

'Third rule,' she continued, ignoring him in favour of the final victory: 'once you've promised to support us financially, you can't break this promise and abandon the idea until at least six months past the opening date of the school, no matter what other arrangements are made.'

'Hold on,' said Slytherin, cautiously, 'I'm not sure I like the sound of this rule.'

'It's the last one,' Rowena pleaded, 'and if you agree to this one, you can even forget about the first two if you want. Oh, not the first one,' she added, in response to Helga's worried expression.

He appeared to consider this. 'OK,' he said, finally. 'Agreed.'

'Excellent. Now, promise.'

'What?' he asked, exasperatedly. 'Promise what, exactly?'

'The terms of the third rule are that you must promise to help set up the school, and not abandon us regardless of anything said or done following the time the promise was made.'

'Such as?'

'I don't know,' she said, with forced innocence, 'just any problems that may arise or ideas you don't agree with, for example. Not until after the first six months the school has been opened.'

Slytherin looked bored as he drawled, 'Right, Ravenclaw. Whatever you say.'

'Repeat after me, Slytherin.'

He sighed and nodded. 'Fine.'

'I promise,' Rowena prompted.

'I promise,' he repeated, hand held over heart in a mock display of truthfulness.

'That I, Salazar Slytherin,'

'That I, Salazar William Slytherin,'

'Will adhere — you're middle name is William?' Rowena wondered aloud, distracted from the subject at hand.

'Do you want me to repeat that part?' he asked, sarcastically. 'Of course my middle name's William. Do you think my parents are really cruel enough to give me matching initials? Two S's, of all things? Consider it some form of insurance, should I have been born with a speech impediment.'

She and Helga exchanged surprised looks, before Rowena continued:

'Will adhere to the rules set by Rowena Ravenclaw on this day,'

'Didn't you get a middle name?'

'Beulah,' she mumbled, darkly, 'but you can leave that part out.'

Slytherin smirked once again. 'I, Salazar William Slytherin will adhere to the previous rules set by Rowena Beulah Ravenclaw on this day, and enjoy telling everyone that dark and horrible secret 'til death do I part…'

'Oh, do shut up.'

'Carry on talking, Ravenclaw, it's fun.'

'Ye Gods you're annoying. Then finish: I will not break this promise.'

'I will not break this promise. Beulah.'

Rowena glowered at him. Salazar continued to smirk.

Breaking the evil silence that radiated between them, Helga piped up: 'That's all sorted and official, is it?'

The other two nodded.

Salazar said, 'I don't suppose you're going to tell me these "other arrangements" I'm not allowed to disagree with yet?'

'Happily,' said Rowena, with a smile. 'You see, we've invited someone else to finance the school.'

Slytherin's face remained impassive, though anyone listening closely enough might have heard the phrase "Oh holy turnip" mumbled from the corner of his mouth.

'Are you interested?' she asked, gleefully.

'Of course I'm interested, Beulah,' he snapped, 'but dare I ask what imbecile you've dug up from under a damp rock, scraped off with a sharp stick and conned into this hopeless plan of a—'

'Elvina Hart.'

'What?'

Blinking in mock-innocence, Rowena asked, 'What is it, Slytherin? Does she annoy you, or something?'

'Oh, God…'

'Something the matter?'

'Yes, something's the matter!' he snapped. 'I'm going to have to wear a padlock on my trousers! I never thought I'd be rejecting perfectly attractive advances until the day I met that self-absorbed, proud, spoilt, self-obsessed, shallow — ugh - just piss off, Beulah!' With that he stormed off, mumbling curses under his breath.

'Remember,' Rowena called out after him, 'you did promise!'

They heard his faint, angry reply as he became a small, retreating figure in the distance, hands clenched by his sides: 'I know I promised, you scheming women of disreputable intentions!'

Rowena beamed happily. 'I feel good,' she announced, nodding proudly. 'Today has been a good day.'

Helga rolled her eyes. 'Certainly. I mean, we'll have to add an extra bear trap to our outgoings, but I'm sure we can spare the expense.'

'Oh, shush,' said Rowena, mildly, 'don't wee on my rainbow.'

'What?'

'Anyway, Elvina may be an idiot, but she's got money falling out of her skull.' She took a cheerful bite from an almost-neglected pastry, and added, 'I feel in no way morally compromised by the idea of milking that horny cash cow.'

'Milking the horny cash cow?' Helga repeated, eyebrows raising. 'That's the second nonsensical metaphor you've used in the last ten seconds. I'm worried about you.'

'You're weeing on my rainbow again,' said Rowena, sternly, 'stop it.'

'I just wish,' Helga sighed theatrically, laying back in the grass, 'wish that the gods had presented us with some mere opportunity of approaching somebody...well, approachable.' She wrinkled her nose. 'You know what I mean. A rough diamond in a pile full of willies.'

'A what?' Rowena laid down beside her. A white, dense cloud travelled slowly overhead. 'Was that a metaphor?'

'I just wish,' said Helga, a little more pointedly, 'that somehow, in the short history of our lives, fate had opened up its majestic bosom and said, Rowena Ravenclaw, you know this opening a school business? Well, have you considered inviting someone who doesn't deserve a slow and torturous death?'

'Like who?'

'Who?' She shrugged. 'Only fate can tell. Perhaps a tall, dark stranger; perhaps a tall, dark classmate with a huge inheritance and a boatload of academic skill and admirable leadership qualities and biceps like you've never seen - you know, the sort of person perfect for headmastership and...' she sighed dreamily, 'and a variety of other things.'

'Oh,' said Rowena. 'You mean like Godric?'

Helga closed her eyes peacefully. 'Let it never be said you're not a genius, Ro.'

Rowena hit her with a breadroll.

Dear Granny,

I don't know when you'll receive this letter, or if you'll understand it when you do. However, I think it's necessary to tell you that I will not be returning home at the end of term; instead I am to pursue my life ambition of founding a school of magic for young children across the country.

I have already dealt with the purchasing of the castle with the assistance of two of my fellow founders, Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. If you recall, the Gryffindors are the red-haired family who own the land you visited last year (I believe you still owe them an apology for doing that to their uncle, you may have been inebriated but that's no excuse).

The Slytherins are related to the Gryffindors but are smarmier and dark-haired. They also happen to run the dungeon you were held in as a result of being drunk and disorderly outside their castle, but don't bother writing them an apology because if they discovered we were related I would just die.

Helga Hufflepuff (don't pretend you don't owe her an apology) will also be co-running the school, as will Elvina Hart (fortunately for us all, you've never met her).

Thank you very much for all your years of care and the bottles of whisky you allowed me once a year; they caused quite a commotion in first year when Professor Harper caught Thomas Smith with the donkey.

Yours,

Rowena x

With only one week to go before the Hogwarts Five left school, Rowena found it perfectly evil that she had to write another three essays before being shown the door. Three essays, Professor Harper reminded her, evil smirk playing on his lips, all of which were four years overdue.

Of course, he'd have—

'Bronwyn!'

-seen her, four years ago, lounging in her seat and boasting that she hadn't finished her homework and Harper the Inbred Toad hadn't even noticed. He'd have written her name in a nice, clean book with the date noted clearly—

'Bronwyn!'

- beside it. Each and every single time she didn't hand in her essay he'd have smiled and mentioned nothing, thinking longingly about the day, just a week before she was set free forever and just like that he'd oh-so-casually mention, 'Ravenclaw, I'll need those essays in tomorrow. The ones you never did in your third year, remember?' Oh, how she'd love to throttle that slimy son of a melon —

'Bronwyn! For God's sake woman, please turn your lights out! I need beauty sleep!'

Perhaps eleven o'clock at night wasn't the best time to start it, in fairness.

'Surely not, Elvina?' Rowena replied, dutifully.

'Flattery will get you everywhere, Bronwyn. Right now, it can take you into the common room to finish your damn essays!'

Rowena sighed and gathered up her things, grumbling as she did. 'I don't understand it, Elvina,' she mumbled, 'I'm sure there were essays you never finished throughout the years…'

'Only recently.'

'Well, why don't you have to finish them?'

'Because I'm a responsible adult, Bronwyn. As a responsible adult, what I can't solve with determination and effort, I solve by offering sex.'

Rowena froze. 'By offering what?'

'Oh, be an adult, Bronwyn.'

'Are you telling me—are you telling me you did—'

'Richard, yes.'

'Argh! You just called him Richard!'

'Well, we are on intimate terms!'

'I see, I see. That is effort and determination. Effort and determination not to gag!'

'Bronwyn! Richard was a very sensual man—'

'Eugh! Stop! Stop! Eugh! I'm blind! He's so…'

'Generous?'

'Greasy!' She shook her head, expression contorted. 'Christ in a dinghy, woman!'

'Do you want a detailed account of it?'

'No!'

'Then finish your essays in the common room! And-' looking slightly shameful, she added, 'make sure you don't tell anyone else. My mother would kill me!'

'Whatever,' Rowena snapped, grudgingly exiting to the common room mumbling something that sounded like "Even bloody Harper!"

She sat down heavily in her usual chair by the fire, this time ensuring no one else was present. Then she wrote a hasty owl to Elvina's mother, signing it with three kisses and a smiley face.

Her mind working somewhere else entirely, she began work on the second essay of the night: Werewolves? There wolves.

The feeling of satisfaction and a dream achieved hadn't quite sunk in yet; instead she was merely tired. Not merely tired, in fact, but utterly exhausted. She'd spent hour after hour explaining her story to curious classmates: no, she wasn't engaged, yes, she was completely sane, no, she had no intention of seducing either Godric or Slytherin, yes, she did have to take Elvina away from them and no one was more sorry about it than Rowena herself…

She'd made plans. They were damn good plans, too, and she'd be damned if they wouldn't damn work, damn it. She bought the castle…what was it called? Hoggle…Hogglesomething, yes that was it.

She'd written letters. Very careful and neat letters with proper grammar and punctuation and a few fancy words to boot. Godric was reproachful of her plans, at first. Her precious, precious plans! He'd agreed, though, soon enough.

Silly letters he wrote. All very official and proper, with signed agreements and very long words. Words like acquiesce, consortium, precarious and sleep…

…no, not sleep…

...damn essays, damn Harper, damn Elvina and her ditzy little head, damn…damn Slytherin, yeah, he'll…smothered with a...something, not a cat…damn…

However, the snout of the werewolf is-

'Bloody hell,' Rowena mumbled, sitting up quickly. It was always disconcerting, waking up with your face planted flat on a table. Evidently she'd fallen asleep over her essay; a position not notoriously conducive to academic success.

She pulled the parchment from her forehead, where it had stuck determinedly, and realised with an unhappy sigh that the ink was still rather wet when she'd landed. Now it stamped her face like a regretful tattoo.

Ye Gods.

Still, it could be worse. True, her back was in agony from being in such an uncompromising position for hours, she had a description of the snout of a wolf on her cheek and her dress was in a shockingly untidy state, but it could have been worse. At least it was only the early morning, so no one was around to witness her embarrassment-

'Matthew,' said a voice from the corridor outside, 'I've told you, I was only kissing him to make you jealous!'

'If you were trying to make me jealous, why did you only do it when I wasn't around?'

-I could be wrong, of course, Rowena thought, leaping speedily from her seat and in the direction of the bathrooms, teeth gritted and dress hitched high.

'I didn't think it through!' Elvina insisted.

The door opened…she'd never reach the bathroom in time…a cupboard? It'd have to do!

She closed the door after her just in time: Elvina, Matthew and, by the sound of it, two other boys entered the common room.

'Excuse me,' said a quiet voice in her ear.

Rowena froze. She made a small choking noise. The she turned around, very, very slowly.

'...Slytherin?' she ventured, eyes bulging.

The cupboard was small and cramped, full of cleaning instruments, lost property and Salazar. Although he was illuminated only slightly by the thin streak of light that filtered into the cupboard from outside, there was no mistaking the black hair, green eyes and unusual abundance of pale…wet...skin?

Oh flaming boob-box.

'Slytherin!' she whispered, fiercly. 'What in the name of hell are you doing in here?'

He calmly cocked an eyebrow. 'Oh I'm sorry, Ravenclaw, is this your privatecupboard?'

'Don't you dare act like I'm the weirdo in here!'

'You have ink all over your face.'

'You're naked!'

'I most certainly am not, you nasty little pervert.' He raised his chin and added, 'I happen to be wearing a towel.'

'Oh thank God for that!' She glanced down briefly.

He leapt back, knocking a bucket over in the process. 'What the hell did you do that for?'

'I had to check!'

'I hope you're not making advances-'

'Look, just because we happen to be in the same small space and you happen to be unsuitably dressed for human contact, it doesn't mean I want anything to do with…anything. I didn't plan this, you know!'

'Well what are you doing here?'

'Look at me! I have ink on my face and I'm a mess, and I heard voices! Vanity, Slytherin, think of my vanity!' She concentrated very intently on not looking him over again and, in the awkward silence, added, 'You?'

Salazar sighed. 'Look at me, I've just had a shower and I'm wearing a towel, and I heard voices. Nudity, Ravenclaw, think of my nudity. Dear God,' he added, 'you really are inky. Have you been rubbing your face on a squid?'

'I…fell asleep,' she admitted, with more than a touch of embarrassment. 'On my essay, if you must know.'

He cocked his head to one side and squinted. 'It's like making shapes out of clouds.' Rowena sighed and did her best to look annoyed. 'There's an inky teapot on you chin, and a kind of inky frog-beast on your forehead.'

'Eugh,' she replied, automatically, 'don't say that.'

'Don't fret, Ravenclaw, it's only ink.'

'No,' she mumbled, 'it's not that, it's…'

'What? What are you talking about?' He looked at her sternly, in a vain attempt to appear superior. This was slightly difficult, owing to the fact he was scantily clad in a cleaner's cupboard.

She was so amused by this thought, she disregarded any possible consequences and explained, 'I hate frogs. Have done for years. Horrible, slimy, croaking little creatures…down your dress…' she mumbled, as an afterthought.

'As a non-dress wearing member of the general public, please enlighten me: under what circumstances did you put a frog down your dress?'

'I didn't put it there, it just got there!'

Slytherin smirked. 'Tell me all about it, Ravenclaw. It'll make you feel better.'

'It certainly will not.'

'Do you want me to get Elvina's attention? Do you want her to think we're engaging in some weird claustraphobic fetish act?'

'You wouldn't!'

'Try me.'

Rowena sighed, and recounted: 'I was only eight or nine, and my older brother Richard took me for a walk down to the village pond. And - and I started playing on the ducking stool, swinging back and forward over the water and it was so dark and murky, and, and, there were all these bubbly little things on the surface that just looked like pond scum, and - and I said to Richard, "What are those things?" and he said "Just forgspawn, nothing to be scared of", and - and - and next thing I knew I'd gone flying off into the water and landed right by it and I was suddenly set upon by this angry Mother Frog, and she leapt right at my face and dropped down the front of my dress, and, and all these other frogs appeared and started launching at me as well, and, and...oh god, the little webbed feet!'

By this point, she had become so caught up in her memory she didn't realise she was tugging the front of her dress, emitting croaking noises with a look of horror on her face.

Slytherin actually had to bite his forearm to stop himself laughing.

'Shut up,' Rowena demanded, snapping out of it, 'it wasn't funny!'

Slytherin was now close to eating his arm.

'Stop it! Someone's going to hear you!'

Slytherin realised it was rather difficult to secure a towel around one's waist while biting one's arm and trying to steady oneself against a mop to avoid falling over.

'Stop it now, Slytherin! I don't want to see anything nasty! Hasn't…hasn't anything as horrible as that happened to you?'

Slytherin sobered up and straightened the towel while Rowena concentrated all her energies on looking him in the eye. 'Well, a baby bit me, once,' he admitted.

'It did what?'

'Bit me,' he repeated, with an exaggerated shudder, 'I hate babies. We never talk of it again, inky.'

'Fine. Nudist.'

'Beulah.'

The voices outside the cupboard trailed off and a door closed after them.

Slytherin said, 'Shall we never speak of this again?'

'Deal. I would shake your hand, but…eugh.'