Chapter 1
Salazar stares at him, eyes wide with blood trickling down his chin, as he pulls his sword from his chest.
He falls, first to his knees then to the floor, as he takes his last breath, his silver eyes slowly going grey and glassy, staring ahead at nothing. Godric turns away, unable to look at the traitor, the traitor who was once a friend, as his body goes still. He turns to Rowena and Helga as they step up beside him, Helga placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. She opens her mouth to speak, probably something encouraging, but a loud sigh from the edge of the forest before them cuts her off.
“I was hoping he would last at least a little longer.” A man walks out of the trees, eyes fixed on Salazars still form. “But he was fighting my control, which made him much weaker, especially to you.” He raises his eyes to look between them. “His ‘friends’ who so easily believed he would betray them. He did everything in his power to fight against me, to not kill you even if it ended in his own death. I was hoping he’d take at least one of you down with him, but oh well, he has served his purpose.”
Rowena lunges at the man with a snarl and a flick of her wand, always the first to put things together, but the man apparates away before her spell can touch him. Godrics eyes fall to the body before him as Rowena rages, her usual calm nowhere to be seen, Helga quiet like she never is and he… he falls to my knees before my friend, who would never betray them, what was he thinking?! He was cold to strangers, quiet most of the time and preferred the presence of books and snakes then people, but he wasn’t evil. He cared about them, about the students, he loved the school.
He doesn’t hold back the sob that rises in his throat.
“Godric…” Helga tries, tears streaming down her own face.
“I killed him,” he whispers, his voice breaking.
Godrics shaking hand reaches for Salazars face, before he yanks it away and screams.
&&&
Salazar dashes around the corner, a rock flying past where his head just was.
“Get him!” one of the idiots chasing him shouts and he holds from back rolling my eyes as he flings himself down an alley and behind a crate, out of sight when the men make it around the corner, barrelling right past his hidden form.
He stays still, breathing light, for at least another minute before standing with a sigh. The idiots thought he had stolen from them and gave chase immediately. He does roll my eyes this time. If he had wanted to steal from them they would never have known it was him, even if he didn’t use his magic.
A commotion down the street the idiots went down has his interest peaked. He pokes his head out to look, only to stiffen at the shout of “witch!”
Shit.
Either there’s an innocent no-mag out there being accused of witchcraft or it’s someone who can actually use magic, which is just as bad.
Salazars eyes focus on the person they’re accusing, their weapons ready, to see a man with fiery red hair to his shoulders, he’s rather tall and muscular and… looks completely unbothered by the people trying to surround him. Instead he’s looking around seeming almost… hopeful? Does the idiot expect some suicidal fool to save him? Salazar… shit. Salazar’s that suicidal fool isn’t he? At least he can be clever about it.
He lets his expression go panicked and run to the crowd shouting, “there’s an attack! At the gate!”
Everyone freezes and then there’s panic, everyone forgetting the man for the moment. Salazar turns to him and ignoring his teary relieved expression, he grabs his arm and pulls.
“Run you fool,” he hisses and almost stumbles in surprise when the man follows his pull easily.
He shakes it off and pulls him along, out a hole in the wall, around the small village, and into the woods. Finally, when they are far enough away, he turns to him with a scowl.
“What in the world did you do to get called a witch?” he asks, still unsure if he actually is magic or not.
“I’m Godric! Godric Gryffindor!” the man-Gryffindor, says brightly, completely ignoring Salazars question. Salazar sighs rubbing at his temples. “What’s your name?”
“Salazar… Salazar Slytherin.”
“Nice to meet you!” he chirps and he can almost see the tail wagging behind him.
He holds in another sigh.
“… you too.”
“Are you staying near here?” Gryffindor asks, either oblivious to or ignoring his obvious reluctance to talk to him.
“Yes.”
“Can I come with you?”
Salazar gives him an incredulous look.
He grins back, a spark of mischief in his eye, the asshole. Well, two can play at that game.
He lets his own grin take over his face, one that looks a little to welcoming and say, “of course, you are,” he looks down at where his money pouch is tied to his belt, before making them fly back up to his face like he didn’t mean to look, “most welcome.”
“Great!” he cheers.
He lets the facade drop into a scowl. He’s an idiot.
“You’re an idiot,” he states.
He puts on an overly offended look.
“How you wound me! The only way I will recover is if you will allow me to come with you!”
Salazar narrows his eyes at him. He is far to insistent on coming with him.
“Why do you wish to stay with me?”
He thinks a look of sadness flashes through his eyes, but it’s gone to fast to be sure.
“Well,” he starts with a smirk, lifting a hand palm up and letting a flame flicker to life on it. “It’s not every day you meet another wizard.”