Salazar Slytherin stalked out of the castle and onto the grounds. He had just left the bedside of the wounded son of a particularly powerful local lord. The boy was one of Salazar’s favourite students, a talented young wizard with strong familial connections. The lord was with his son at the moment and Salazar had spent the better part of an hour convincing the man that the child would be all right, and that proper measures would be taken to assure the safety and strength of the school in the future.
The crisp autumn air was just starting to hint at the winter ahead. The grounds were clean and neat in the sunlight. There were no signs of the Muggle mob that had raged past the gates the night before- the King’s Army, indeed. If so many students had not ended up in the Hospital Wing, Salazar would have laughed at the ludicrousness of such a ragtag band of snivelling peasants holding such a title. As it was, contempt coursed through the wizard. Between the blind fervour of the Muggles and the ineptitude of most students, a great deal of damage had been done to Hogwarts.
Salazar strode across the grass towards the lake. Godric stood on the other side, where the fires had burned the night before, staring at his boots. At the sight of his colleague, Salazar’s fury from the night before returned in full force. The plebeian father of one of Godric’s students had apparently reported “a coven of witches and the like” to the passing army in return, no doubt, for a hefty sum of gold. Although the founders had been able to contact assistance and diffuse the situation quickly, enough harm had been done. This incident could only support Salazar’s claims that the school must not allow entrance to just any scum who could cause sparks to come from a wand. It was further proof that men, especially Muggles, inherently looked out for themselves and their own, even at the cost of others who were close to them.
Slytherin was thankful that he had at least started preparing ways to protect this school. He had carefully forged alliances with the powerful wizards across the land, paying careful attention to those with great wealth and close vicinity. There were powerful enchantments that could be enacted around the site of the school, closing it to all Muggles and all others who were likewise unwelcome. Most importantly, he had his secret hidden in the bowels of the school, a way to ensure that his legacy would be protected, even if he himself had to leave one day. Salazar had felt for quite a bit of time now that such a day was inevitable.
For the sake of friendship, for the respect he had for his powerful colleagues, Salazar had not forced the issue of lesser men defiling the wizarding community’s lifeblood, but the time had clearly come where it was no longer avoidable. Slytherin had crossed to the other side of the lake, and stood within the trees that almost reached the water’s edge. Godric continued to stare at the ashes scattered about his feet. Salazar might have felt sorry for his friend at one time, but after Gryffindor’s rash actions and foolhardy beliefs had almost destroyed the careful alliances Salazar had built (for Hogwarts’ protection, no less!), whatever patience the wizard might have had was now gone. It was just like Godric, really, moping by the lake, poetically mulling on the unfortunate circumstances that had befallen him, leaving Salazar to tend to the practical realities of keeping the school running. The remorseful man made a romantic picture, gazing at the ground, the trees, the sky, but Salazar was the one who was truly dealing with the aftermath of last night’s attack.
Godric glanced across the lake to the castle’s towers. Salazar strode out from behind the tree, unable to contain himself any longer. “Do you believe me now?” he hissed. His friend looked startled, and opened his mouth to reply, but Salazar did not give him the chance. “‘Never could a family turn on its own members,’ you said, but you were wrong, and it almost cost the life of one of my students.”
Godric took a step back as his enraged friend continued to step toward him. “Salazar, I know how gravely I misjudged the situation. I did not think that-”
“No!” Slytherin whispered viciously. “You did think! Those were the only words you listened to, your own thoughts. What you failed to do was listen to my warning. You prattle on about unity and listening to one another, but you do not bother to follow your own advice. You are convinced that you know better than the rest of us. Helga and Rowena might allow themselves to be subjected so, but I will not. I have had it with you.”
“What do you mean?” Godric had stepped back to the very edge of the granite hanging over the lake. “Slytherin, old friend- what are you saying? Surely you are not threatening to leave?”
Salazar and Godric faced off, their backs held stiffly erect. Slytherin’s body was a dark outline against the blazing sun behind him. His eyes were narrowed against the glittering water behind Gryffindor, but he never broke eye contact. The tension screamed through Godric’s veins, leaving his senses uncomfortably alert. Salazar took a step forward, raising his arm as he did so.
Gryffindor jerked backward, his hat toppling off his head and into the water. He lost his balance and fell so that he sat on the ground, looking up into Slytherin’s face. Gryffindor watched as his friend’s face quickly changed from concerned to hurt to coldly furious. The dark-haired wizard laughed angrily. “Old friend, eh? Is that why you pull away when I go to clap you on the shoulder and once more promise to hold my tongue and go against my better judgment for the sake of friendship? Do you trust all your friends in this manner, ‘old friend’?” Slytherin stood above Gryffindor, snarling. “I would have stayed for you, you know, ‘old friend,’ I really would have, but it is altogether too clear that such would not be your intention. It would obviously be best for all if I depart.”
“But-but there must be some reason to stay, Salazar.” Gryffindor stammered desperately up at his colleague. “Something kept you here before.”
“Yes, something kept me here, Gryffindor. Our friendship kept me here, but that is apparently dead. A love kept me here- oh! Look at how surprised our brash one is.” Slytherin laughed mirthlessly. “Yes, a woman loves me, and fights against my demons to keep me here with you. It is her mistake, her downfall. I love her, as well, and that is mine. I trusted that she would be enough, that you would be enough, that this union of the Four Founders of Hogwarts would be enough. I trusted that maybe there would be enough good in this world through our bonds, that I would not need to fight for our protection, and that was a grave error. For all our sakes, now, I am leaving. I will bow to you and your faulty ways no longer.”
“Please, the school needs you. I-I need y-”
“Hah! You need me, indeed,” Slytherin sneered. “You do not even realize how very much I do to hold this school together. You ignore my efforts, you ignore my input, and you ignore my counsel. This endeavour is doomed to failure, Gryffindor. I thought that maybe you were right, and I did not fight against the errors myself, and now it is too late.”
Gryffindor set his jaw. “Even if you go, we will last. Hogwarts will be the greatest institution in the wizarding world, Slytherin. We will replace you and we will grow and continue throughout the years.”
Slytherin snorted. “Without my contributions, this school may last, but it will not be worthy of its existence. I shall make a few last efforts here in the hopes of saving my legacy, and then I will depart. I only hope future generations do not remember me as the fool I was for listening to you.” He turned on his heel, and strode away, leaving Gryffindor to Summon his hat out of the lake.
Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were waiting for him on the steps to the castle. Helga’s eyes were wide and her face pale, but Rowena’s features were composed. “I am finishing this week’s lessons and then departing,” he informed the two witches.
Helga gasped, a strangled sound, but Rowena only nodded. “I suppose I have seen that coming. I believe you are making a mistake, but I have told you that already, and I will not beg.”
Slytherin bowed in mock civility. “That will certainly make it easier on us all.” He pushed past the witches and strode toward the dungeon.
Ravenclaw did not turn from the door, but Helga glanced at her and then hurried after Salazar. “Well, I will. I will beg! Salazar, please!” The wizard ignored her, but hastened his pace. She gathered up her skirts as she ran after him down the stone steps into the cold dungeons. “Salazar, please, you must not do this. You must not give up now!”
Slytherin spun to face her. “Do you never give up, then? Do you fight pointless battles, knowing you will lose, only for the sake of not giving up?” he questioned fiercely. “Yes, Helga,” he hissed, “I give up on this school, and on that arrogant wizard I used to call my friend, and on that damnably clever witch who logically resolves her quandaries, yet believes in nothing. I want nothing to do with it. They are foolish, and with no standards, and I regret the day I allied myself with this idiotic plan. This school could have been the salvation of our kind, the place that could have heralded us as the very saviours of magic. In the end it will be overrun by Muggles and filth and so yes, I give it up.”
Helga let go of her skirt and took a step forward, her hemline brushing the hard, earthen floor. “And me, Salazar? You will give up on me as well?” She grasped his hands, her troubled eyes locked with his own.
He raised his eyebrows and answered her in a steady voice. “I am not asking you to come with me, so yes, I give up on you as well.” He pulled his hands away and continued down the dungeon corridor.
Helga stood still, her arms hanging loosely at her sides. “Why, Salazar? You’ve told me the reasons for the others. Why do you give up on me?” Her voice was controlled and rang out surprisingly clear.
Salazar turned his head to look at her. He had been watching the water trickle down the wall beside him, and the drips echoed in his ears as Helga stood, calmly asking, not begging any longer, not desperately trying to keep him, but honestly wondering. “You keep trying to save me from my fate. There is nothing I wish to be saved from. Your blind faith in me is touching, but it is blind, and you should not trust everyone the way you do. There are better wizards for you to spend your energy and your compassion on. I do not wish to keep your pity.” He looked in her eyes just long enough to see the first tear fall, before he spun away to hurry down the corridor and keep his own misery contained within his anger.