Chapter Seven: Revenge of the Sexual Metaphor

The following week passed slowly with very little incidence; most of the time was spent discovering new rooms, some of which - to Rowena's seething annoyance - changed on a regular basis. So far, she'd encountered a room that was a kitchen on Tuesday and a library on Wednesday, one that grew smaller the further she walked into it and one with a vanishing floor.

The staircases were a problem, too. One day they'd changed direction as she ascended the final step, taking her over to Godric's tower where she'd awaited assistance with some mild embarrassment, not quite knowing how to get back downstairs.

'The fourth floor,' Helga declared, 'was designed by Satan and constructed by his evil little wizards.' She took a seat by Rowena in what would one day be the school library. Over the week, the place had accumulated a couple of extra shelves of second-hand books that Salazar had "just picked up on the cheap", though Rowena didn't dare think where.

'Vanishing bathroom?' Rowena ventured. Helga nodded grimly.

Their task had been to make a more detailed map of the school by charting where each room was, though this wasn't entirely easy when a selection of the aforementioned rooms repeatedly attempted to eat them.

Rowena said, 'I'm beginning to understand why they sold this place so cheaply. I'm sure it'll all be worth it in the end, though.'

Salazar's scowl appeared from behind a bookcase. He shook his head slowly and disappeared again.

'I appreciate your optimism,' Rowena muttered.

He reappeared and took a seat opposite Helga. 'Ravenclaw, your cheerful demeanour is intensely physically painful.'

'That's not all that's painful.'

'But why are we even bothering?'

'Because, Hoofed One, we'd all hate you to fall down an uncharted pit.'

'Huh.' He made a show of ignoring her, and instead began to scan through the pages of a dusty volume taken from the bookcase. 'Oh would you look at that, an entire chapter on carnivorous frogs.'

Rowena threw him a withering look, but felt uneasy all the same. The problem with Slytherins - - one of many - was that they just couldn't be trusted. You tell them your secret phobia and they taunt you with frog jokes for the rest of your life.

Their harmless banter was interrupted by Godric's trademark entrance. The one that meant Rowena had to go around fixing all the door handles he'd unintentionally shattered. The poor boy couldn't help it; his biceps had biceps.

'Ah, here he is,' said Salazar, who seemed to be feeling more sour than usual, 'man of the hour. He'll save us from the vanishing toilet.'

Godric ignored him and bowed stiffly to Rowena and Helga, causing Helga to redden and Rowena to fight the urge to thrash him violently about the face.

Salazar said, 'Yo, Godders. How's it hanging?'

Godric regarded him with annoyance and mumbled, 'It's hanging...well. I've completed a map of the fifth floor, Miss Ravenclaw, and I'm happy to report that all is as it should be.'

'Oh,' said Rowena, giving Slytherin a scolding look, 'thanks, Godric. Please never call me Miss Ravenclaw again as long as you live.'

'Er...yes. Ha ha.'

Then there came the awkward silence. Oh, the awkward silence! Rowena made a mental note never to enter another business plan with two people she had so little in common with. Variety of traits and abilities? Ha.

Finally, Helga asked, 'Do we, er, have any students yet?'

'Not...not as yet, no,' Rowena confessed, not allowing herself to feel overly guilty; it was, she reminded herself, their responsibility as much as hers. 'Not many teachers, either. But there's still plenty of time before term starts in September.'

Godric asked, 'Is there any chance we can wait until next year, Miss - Rowena?'

'Er, no. Well, I don't think so. The supplies and furniture' - here she shot a meaningful glance at Salazar, who had somehow accumulated most of it - 'well, that cost us a bit, frankly. So it would be useful if we opened as soon as possible to get some income flowing. Of course, we'll only be able to allow the, er...wealthier students in at first, so we can afford to keep teachers and such.'

She already knew that her statement would inspire a reply from Salazar, so she wasn't entirely surprised when he said, 'Good thing, really. Keep the riff-raff out.'

'So,' she continued, slightly louder to ignore him, 'we'll need to comb the local villages for anyone who's interested in either teaching or becoming a pupil. There's a little village around the corner that's - er - quite nice.'

'A little village?' Salazar echoed. 'You're not going to find anyone wealthy in a little village. Case in point: didn't you live in a little village, Hufflepuff?'

'But I can't think of any way we're going to meet them,' Rowena continued, speaking louder still.

'You did too, didn't you Ravenclaw?'

'Slytherin-'

'Until your parents killed themselves.'

Helga gasped, then shrieked, 'Rowena, get off him!' as she leapt from her chair and lunged at a very surprised Salazar, sending him hurtling backwards and dragging a bookshelf to the ground.

She didn't need a wand...she was going to kill that inbred bastard with her bare hands...

After about thirty seconds of kicking, strangling and squirming, she was finally dragged from him by Godric, though this wasn't easily done. She continued pulling his hair until the very last moment, and after that she just kicked out wildly.

As delicately as possible, Godric transported her back to the table, accompanied by an understandably worried Helga. Once she'd finally calmed down, Slytherin managed to struggle to his feet. He examined his neck gingerly.

After a stunned pause, he said, 'Ouch. That bloody hurt!'

Rowena took a deep, unsteady breath. 'You don't,' she began, 'you just don't say...you just don't-'

'Alright,' he said, taking a step away from her, though she was hardly able to pounce again as Godric's steel grip was on her shoulders. 'Alright, calm down.'

'You should never-'

'Alright! I'm sorry.' At least he had the decency to make it sound half-genuine.

Rowena's ruffled feathers settled slightly. 'Well, good. I'm OK, Godric,' she added, his hands preventing her from shrugging, 'you can let go.' She tried to laugh casually as proof, but the giggle she produced sounded slightly maniacal. Above her head, Godric looked to Helga for confirmation. She nodded, and Rowena felt him release her arms. Good Lord that boy was strong when he wanted to be. No wonder doors flung open when he pushed them; they had no other choice...

She took a deep breath and settled. 'Right,' she said, after a moment of silence, speaking as if nothing had happened. This seemed the right way to go about things. 'Would anyone like to raise any more burning issues?'

Salazar skulked around the remaining bookcase.

Eventually, Godric spoke. The tone of his voice suggested Rowena had put the fear of Ravenclaw in him. 'Well, I do have something, but I'm not sure this is the best time to, er...'

'Do share,' Rowena insisted.

'Well, I thought that since we would all be working together for so long and, er, since I have my own already...and what with one thing' - here his eyes drifted towards the direction of the mysterious forest, then snapped back again - 'and another...well, I have gifts.'

'Ah?' said Rowena and Helga together; remembering the typical Gryffindor "gift" ran along the lines of a Vow of Eternal Loyalty or My Unending Protection, neither of which could be exchanged for financial alternatives.

He reached over his shoulder for the bag that habitually hung there, and withdrew three long, impressive swords.

'Er,' said Rowena, as they clanged against the table, 'how...thoughtful...'

"Thoughtful" wasn't the word, but "odd" was. "Disturbing" was another. The one Salazar carefully picked up - correctly assuming it was his - was a short piece of metal set into what appeared to be a green turd, which seemed to be the handle. Salazar looked at it briefly, gave Godric an expression that said "You're not worthy of my insults" and placed it atop the remaining bookshelf without a second glance.

Rowena regarded hers closely, smiling and nodding to keep Godric happy. It was, she had to admit, a lot better than Salazar's when it came to appearance; the blade was long and elegant but looked like it might blunt if asked to cut paper - clearly, Godric held certain views on the subject of ladies and artillery. The handle was, thoughtfully enough, the blue and bronze colours of the Ravenclaw crest. Rowena suspected she could detach it using only the power of her mind.

Helga's sword was probably the best of the three, though it was still clearly meant for having rather than using. Like Rowena's, the blade was long and elegant; unlike Rowena's, it was yellow and black. She burbled her thanks and salivated.

With a disgusted expression on his face, Salazar said, 'How lovely. I think chocolates and flowers are more common, though.'

Helga's eye twitched.

'Also,' he added, 'I've got one.'

'A hideous wasting disease?' Rowena suggested hopefully.

'No.'

'Terrible hair?'

'No.'

'Man-boobs?'

'Certainly not.'

'You're sure it's not a hideous wasting disease-?'

'An idea, Ravenclaw. I have an idea. You know what they are, I assume? You might have read about them-'

'What's your idea?' Helga demanded, as Godric sidled closer to Rowena lest she re-launch her attack.

'Chill your knickers, Hufflepuff. I have an idea of an ingenious and, dare I say, brilliant nature that will enable us to meet, greet and beat whomever we please.'

Rowena gave him her best scowl.

'That's a part-ay,' he explained, 'in laymen's terms.'

'A party?'

'A part-ay,' he corrected her, 'there's a large difference. Less wine and cheeses; more ale and dancing.'

'A party?' Rowena said again, mind awash with the possibilities.

'A part-ay-'

'The pronunciation doesn't make any difference!'

Salazar raised his eyebrows. 'Clearly you've never attended a part-ay.'

'You're not going to get them drunk and con them into agreeing, are you?' she demanded, through narrowed eyes.

'Of course not! I haven't done that since second year. Don't you think it's worth considering?' he asked, glancing at each of them. 'We could...see how the wealthy people react in...er, social situations, and get to know these wealthy humans a lot better. And invite them round for interviews at a later date. Or if they enjoy our company,' he went on desperately, privately wondering how anyone would enjoy the company of Godric and Helga, especially when they were within thirty metres of each other, 'if they enjoy our company, they might consider sending their darling wealthy children to our school for teaching. Did I mention the wealthy part?'

'Thrice,' said Helga, pensively.

Salazar didn't answer, instead looking eagerly around the room. Rowena considered the idea: though clearly nothing more than an excuse for Slytherin to let his hair down and wantonly spend large amounts of school money, the fiend had raised some very interesting points. Dammit all to hell and back, it was probably a good idea.

Turning her back on him, as if this might exclude him from the conversation, she asked, 'What do you think, Godric?'

Godric mumbled, 'Average.'

'Helga?'

'Decent.'

'Alright. That's a yes, then?'

There came a sullen mumble of, 'Go on then, I suppose. It can't hurt.'

'Right. Eugh.' She turned to Slytherin, who adopted a smug expression in advance, and said, 'Fine. We might as well.'

The self-satisfied expression only increased Rowena's desire to physically beat him once more. The lofty wave of his left hand as he wallowed in smug victory didn't help matters. Rowena somehow managed to suppress this violent urge, and instead turned back to Helga and Godric.

'You two,' she said suddenly, as inspiration struck, 'why don't you, er, go to this village and invite a few people over? Together? Now?'

After only the slightest of embarrassed pauses, they both obediently shuffled out of the room, though in Godric's case this was with some hesitation. As they left, she heard him whisper, 'Are you sure we should leave them in a room together with swords? She could kill him!'

As the door closed behind them, she heard Helga answer, 'Who cares?'

Ah yes, said the little voice of Rowena's conscience, just call me Doctor Love. Or better still, another name that's slightly less ridiculous.

...And now I'm alone with Slytherin, and damn.

'How very cunning,' said Salazar, through one of those inexplicable and unnecessary grins.

Rowena, still furious at him, determinedly blocked out that screeching noise he liked to call a voice and set about mending the bookshelf. 'Repairo,' she mumbled, pointing her wand in its general direction. The shelf lazily reconstructed itself and the books filed back into place.

He smirked as she turned around, which Rowena found not only suspicious but highly annoying. He said, 'You know what your problem is, Ravenclaw?'

'The voices?' she replied, mildly.

'You take everything too seriously.'

'Amazing. How do you get into my mind so accurately? That's what I'd like to know-'

'Why do you hate me so much?'

'Oh, I wonder!'

He grinned. 'I'm sensing a lot of tension between us.'

'I could kill you if you wanted,' she snapped, 'that'd solve all our problems and then some-'

'Or,' he said, with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows, 'we could just do it, and get it over with...'

'I, er, wonder how they're getting on?' Helga asked, walking alongside Godric towards the village.

'Not too well, I suspect,' said Godric, with a slight grin at the thought.

'Maybe it wasn't the best idea to give them both sharp, pointy objects.'

'Yes, on reflection it probably wasn't the greatest of schemes.'

They both let out the same short, awkward, embarrassed laugh and walked in silence for a further minute. During this time, Helga thought:

Oh sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph what the Hell am I doing? I should say something. I really need to say something. What am I going to say? I can't think of anything interesting!

Okay calm, Helly, what would Ro's advice be? Hm... "Show him your knickers and do a sultry little dance against a tree trunk."

Dammit, that's her advice for everything. Oh, dear God, why can't I speed up my thinking process? So much quiet time is passing; he's bound to notice I haven't said anything soon!

Let's think, she would have said... "Just talk about, I don't know, something you have in common. Or something that applies to both of you. Then flash your knickers and do a sultry little dance against a silver birch; it never fails."

Right, something we have in common. That would be...er...well, we both have hands. Oh, great idea, Helga. "So, how are your hands today? Manly and rough, I see, very nice." Oh, God of Smoothness.

Oh, God! I know we have lots of things in common; I made a list of them once! It's all slipping away like water through a...a...oh God I've forgotten that as well! Watering can? DON'T PANIC!

Something that applies to us both, well that would be...well, that could be anything from the surrounding environment, if I remember correctly...So let's see...

She would never forgive herself for saying what she did next.

She said: 'Nice weather we're having, isn't it?'

Rowena blinked heavily, unable to believe her own ears. 'Let's do what?'

'Let's do it,' he repeated shamelessly. Then he grinned, and clarified, 'Let's duel. I don't know what you thought I was talking about...'

'Oh, Gods above!' She waved her sword threateningly under his nose and hissed, 'You know you're doing that!'

'I know,' he smirked, once safely out of striking distance, 'I'm afraid I just can't fight my dirty tendencies. And it's so much fun watching you squirm.'

'Wasn't squirming,' she mumbled sulkily. Then, looking up fiercely, she growled, 'It's you and your...your sexual metaphors all the time! Give it a rest!'

'Come on,' he pleaded, ignoring her rather weak choice of lexis and grabbing his turd-like sword from the bookshelf, 'just you and me and a couple of cheap swords. You know how to duel, I assume?'

Rowena didn't answer for a second or so. She did, actually; she'd learnt the basic actions and positions from her brother in her youth, which - considering the Ministry's views on women - could land both of them in severe trouble.

However, since it seemed highly unlikely that Salazar was about to turn her over to the authorities, she nodded determinedly. Either way, she could poke and swing very well.

Catching the look in her eye, Salazar added, 'It's just for fun, mind you...we're not actually going to be hitting each other.'

'What's the matter?' she asked, deciding a last minute undermining of his masculinity was her only chance of victory, 'Scared of getting cut to ribbons by a girl?'

'You couldn't if you tried,' he promised, through a grin.

Of course I can't; I am literally going to die. 'Well, we'll see.'

Rowena seized her sword by the bumpy handle and immediately felt a cold veil of nervous sweat appear on her palms, making the instrument suddenly very difficult to grip. They moved into a clear space away from the shelves and stood about a metre apart. Salazar raised the sword so that it was vertical down the middle of his face. Rowena attempted to copy his action but found, to her private embarrassment, that she couldn't quite find the exact centre. She placed the edge lightly against the middle of her nose, but no matter how much she adjusted it, it always seemed too far to the left. This was cause for severe worry.

Of course, she reminded herself, this was only for fun. They weren't really going to hit each other...but...

What if she turned out to be completely pathetic at wielding a sword and ended up falling flat on her face within the first five seconds? Or, worse, what if he managed to defeat her with just one jab? She had a nasty habit of humiliating herself when it really mattered, and she didn't like that look in Salazar's eyes as he smiled at her knowingly...

'Ready, Ravenclaw?' he asked, lowering his sword very slightly. She did the same and nervously tugged at her dress in response. He regarded this with curiosity. 'What are you doing? Taking your clothes off?'

'Oh, in your dreams, Slytherin! In your sad and dirty dreams.'

'Of course!'

As if this had been some sort of cue, they both raised their swords simultaneously and brought them down with as much force as possible. They clanged in mid-air-

'Good God, who made these cruddy swords?' Salazar demanded, as they both visibly bent on impact. With a shrug, he carelessly tossed the faulty sword aside and withdrew his wand from his pocket instead. 'Wizard's duel?'

Rowena also threw her sword aside and took out her wand, correcting him, 'Wizards or witches duel, actually,' as she did so.

'Yeah, equal opportunities, whatever. Now be quiet and prepare to die.' He narrowed his eyes and raised his wand. Rowena did too, though this was a few seconds too late-

'Expelliarmus!' The force of the impact sent her flying through the air backwards before she landed heavily on the floor, winding herself.

'A...accio!' she wheezed, holding out her open hand. Her wand flew into her grip. Now, what was Salazar doing? She didn't have time to ponder; he could have been raising his wand at that moment...

She pointed in his direction without looking up, with a gasp of, 'Rictusempra!'

She heard the familiar sound of sparks erupting from the tip of her wand, apparently hitting him full in the chest. He also flew backwards, though not quite as far as she had done.

She stood up before Salazar had the chance to and screamed the first spell that entered her head: 'Wingardium Leviosa!'

Unsurprisingly, it didn't work.

'Imperio!' she shouted, pointing at him again. At first she thought her voice had echoed, but then she realised he'd actually shouted it at the same time.

Both spells reached their targets, and both were easily fought off.

Salazar shook his head quickly to clear it and pointed his wand. They shouted, 'Expecto Patronum!' in unison, which Rowena found very annoying. It was like playing a more lethal version of Rock, Paper, Scissors with someone who said "Rock" as much as you did. The silvery eagle and snake collided and vanished, leaving no effect on each other whatsoever.

'Lumos!' said Rowena, which was the first thing to enter her head. This, of course, had no effect on him, as she was too far away from him to damage his eyeball, which was the worst she could do in any case.

Salazar briefly regarded this pathetic attempt before shouting, 'Impedimenta!' At these words her legs froze, leaving her unable to do anything but flay her arms around madly before toppling over and screaming:

'Alohomora!' which was, again, the first thing to enter her head and, again, a mistake. It took a while for her to realise what effect - if any - the spell designed to open things had on him. Then her eyes travelled downwards as she came to the stunned realisation that his skivvies had fallen down to his ankles.

'Argh!' she yelped, quickly turning the other way and freeing herself of the impediment jinx. 'Argh! Er...Expelliarmus! Anything!'

He flew weakly through the air before falling back to earth - now, she saw, with his trousers up where they belonged. He didn't seem embarrassed by the incident in the least.

She was about to suggest a draw and a strong draught of ale, but he interrupted by sitting up, swaying slightly out of light-headedness, and shouting, 'Alohomora!'

'What-?'

The back of her pinafore untied itself and fell open. She screamed something that sounded worryingly like "Garfengabba!", and in doing so officially ended the fight.

Alright, so all the spell revealed was perhaps two thirds of her back, which was still covered by a white dress and most of her long hair, but...well, people still had standards.

'Salazar, you pig,' she mumbled, as she began work on re-threading the material.

He made himself comfortable by perching on the end of the table not far from Rowena, and reasoned, 'You did it to me, remember? I felt truly violated.'

'But I didn't think that would happen!'

'Ah, dear Ravenclaw. Why is it that every time you see me I have an offensive amount of my bottom half on show?'

'I'm beginning to think I'm cursed,' she mumbled in response, still struggling with her dress. 'Don't suppose you know any spells for re-lacing garments after particularly nasty duels, do you?'

'No. And it wasn't that nasty, anyway. You know I would have beaten you if I had to.' He raised his chin in an oh-so-superior manner and added, 'If it was a proper duel.'

'Slytherin, I consider any event in which I am forced to see your legs entirely "nasty", thank you very much. I won, anyway,' she added.

'No you didn't.'

'Fine, we drew.'

'Slytherins don't draw.'

'Fine, you won. Moody git.'

He smiled and replied, 'Ta,' apparently very pleased with himself.

Rowena rolled her eyes and felt suddenly very tempted to hit him with another disarming spell while he wasn't looking. But maybe later. 'I still can't fasten this bloody thing, it's your fault.'

'I'll help-'

'-Keep your hands off,' she said, taking a cautious step away.

For the briefest of moments, he was offended. Then he scoffed and returned to his normal self. 'Fine. I'm not desperate, Ravenclaw.'

Rowena sighed. 'Oh, do shut up Sally. It's the most amount of woman you're going to see in a while.'

He opened his mouth to object, but was interrupted by Helga, who half-ran into the room to announce: 'Ro, we've been to the village and dear Lord it's dull. But there is this place that might - what on earth are you doing?'

She caught sight of the situation and stared in shock. Godric audibly gasped, and Rowena wouldn't have been remotely surprised if he muttered "my word!" beneath his breath.

Salazar said, 'She's fraternising with the enemy,' to which Rowena hit him around the back of the head.

'Come on, Helly,' she smiled, grabbing her wrist and dragging her away, 'I'll explain later.'

All in all, she felt rather happy. She'd duelled with Salazar Slytherin, successfully violated his privacy and, no matter what he said about it, she thought she'd done rather well.

Back inside the library, Godric looked at Salazar questioningly. Salazar just smiled and declared, 'I can't help the effect I have on women.'