The Father
Chapter 7: The Father
He must have been dreaming, he thought. Salazar was back in the chamber. The torchlight flickered, and the drumming was incessant. There was Erebus, arms raised with a goblet in his hand, laughing hysterically to himself in a long dark robe.
“Drink! Drink!” Erebus shouted, “drink my blood!”
He didn’t want to. Salazar turned around, but there he was again, in front of him. Now he had the knife.
“Take it!” he screamed. “Plunge it deep inside me! I want to feel its blade inside me. I want it to rip me apart. Release Herpo, forever!”
“No!” Salazar screamed back. “I don’t want to. Leave me alone!”
“You want to!” Erebus said. “You need to! I know you do!”
Then, for some unknown reason, Erebus’ bottom half had become a snake. Salazar looked down. So had his. A long snake. Parts of them started wrapping around each other, entwining. Salazar could feel Erebus’ scaly skin pressing into his, as they glided sensually over each other. Erebus was laughing and groaning in pleasure. His chest was now bare. Salazar stared at his skin. It was shining with scales and had ancient symbols etched all over it. He started groaning too, unable to break free. They hissed at each other as they embraced.
Salazar woke up with a start. He was wet and sweaty. He muttered, “Scourgify,” before Godric turned over.
“What are you doing?” Godric croaked hoarsely. “Is it time to get up? Are you alright? You were thrashing around all night.”
“I’m fine,” Salazar hissed. “Go back to sleep.”
*
A few days later, there were crisis talks. Rowena and Helga had tried to get the boys on their own through various methods, but Agatha and Oregon had not obliged them with a moment’s peace between them. Finally, the two had gone for supplies together.
“At last,” Helga declared when they were alone, and the four of them were sitting around the table, “I thought they would never go.”
“What’s this all about?” Salazar asked, confused.
“Helga didn’t want to discuss it in front of her father,” Rowena explained, “but it would appear that we have a problem—money.”
Helga looked crestfallen.
“I thought we had plenty of money?” Godric asked, eyes wide.
“We did,” Helga replied, looking ashamed, “but now my father can no longer support us.”
“It seems he is running short at the moment,” Rowena added.
“Well, it’s not just his fault, is it?” Helga snapped. “You were supposed to be in charge of the finances. Instead, you’ve spent it all on that architect of yours, Oswald, or whatever his name is. He saw you coming!”
“He’s never said I could use his name,” Godric sulked.
“I know, I know,” Rowena said firmly, growing hot. “I believed I invested the money wisely. I did what I thought was right at the time.”
“Well, I thought you had the ‘sight’!” Helga snapped, a hand on her hip.
Godric broke in, “Girls! What’s done is done. Doesn’t seem like we can do much to change it now.”
“So,” Salazar said, trying to piece this information together, “the problem is—”
“We have no money left,” Rowena sighed, forlorn. “And we still have all the interior furnishings to buy.”
Salazar breathed in a deep breath. His chest rose and fell.
“What you’re saying is, we’ll have a school, but with no desks,” he concluded.
Rowena nodded, and the girls looked down, depressed. All four of them looked somewhat defeated.
“I suppose,” Salazar said slowly, rubbing his eyes, “you want me to talk to my father.”
“Oh, Salazar,” Helga cried, “only if it’s no trouble.”
But all three of them looked at him brightly and expectantly. They had no idea. But he couldn’t disappoint them, could he? He couldn’t disappoint Godric.
“I will try,” he said. “But I am not promising anything. Is that understood? I will try, but the responsibility of this does not fall solely to me!”
He tried to sound like he believed it himself, but he was well aware that he was their only hope.
*
Godric and Helga sat in the Hogs Head Inn. There had been much excitement since the foundations and dungeon rooms had been completed. Now the true scale of the project could be appreciated, as the crisscrossing lines that had first been drawn were replaced with stone. Eager for some refreshments, the two of them had walked into Hogsmeade and purchased drinks. Helga’s bravery had ended there, as she did not drink, for the service did not seem to have improved since the last time. Godric merrily drank away.
“Do you really think Rowena and Oswald are serious?” Helga asked, eager for them to talk.
“I don’t know,” Godric thought aloud. “I always kind of thought she was into Sal.”
“Ooh, I think she was,” Helga whispered, “but he wasn’t making any moves, and besides, I think they’re related somehow.”
“It can’t work, though, can it? Oswald and her, I mean? What are they going to do when the project ends?”
“I’m not sure,” Helga replied. “They’ll have to think of something.”
“What about Sal then?” she fluttered, hoping for some real gossip. “Who does he like?”
Godric’s eyes avoided hers. He didn’t know what to say; he didn’t want to betray Salazar.
“If I were to say who he liked best, out of the three of us,” she giggled, “I’d say you!”
Godric laughed. “Helga!”
“Who’d you pick?” she asked. “Go on, out of Rowena and me?”
“You,” he blushed again.
“Me too, I’d pick you,” she smiled.
Over by the bar, there was an elderly man, who was wearing far too many layers for that time of year. A ring of white hair crowned his head. He turned to look at them, his forehead creased.
“You two,” he crowed, “is it true? Other side o’ Black Lake, you’re building a school, I ‘ear?”
“Yes, Sir,” Godric answered politely, looking at him.
“Yes, Sir, yes Sir,” he rasped. “Whatta we wan’ with no school? You ain’t from 'round these parts!”
“Sir, we’re not after any trouble. We’ll keep to ourselves if you want. But, I reckon having a load of school children coming here to Hogsmeade every so often isn’t going to do business any harm.”
The bartender, a tall, big guy with thick, black hair, joined in. “Times a’ changing, Egbert. Little ’uns need training up nowadays. These a’ strange times.”
“Suppose times are,” Egbert nodded, before donning his cap and then leaving.
*
Salazar approached the wooden house from some distance away. This was always his custom. He supposed he was trying to delay the inevitable. He looked up. It was drizzling, but the tall trees were providing sufficient cover. He hadn’t been to the forest his parents lived in for quite a few months. It must be at least five. Godric and he had left shortly after his birthday to go and live with Rowena. At that point, they were still dreaming that they were really going to try and make this school a reality. Rowena had known that was what she wanted to do for years. There was no persuading her. Knowledge, wisdom, and imparting it—that was everything to her. Godric, bless him, must have thought they were setting up some sort of wizarding knight school, so he could take them all on dragon-slaying missions. Salazar wanted the school to achieve things. Change things. Invent things. He wanted everyone to remember him as a great wizard. Helga alone was probably doing it for the children. She had a kind and generous heart. Now it was really happening. Now they had responsibilities. Now he had to go home.
His father and mother had always expected much from him and demanded much from him, but he was grateful for the tutelage they had been able to provide. His father was away a lot with work. A group of associates and he were trying to create a sort of wizarding network. He wanted to protect the wizarding population better and to provide better means of communication. It was hard to explain why things seemed so fraught with difficulty between them. Why he dreaded returning. He supposed it must have been his father.
Salazar knocked on the door, opened it, and walked in.
“Hello, Mother,” Salazar said.
“Salazar,” she replied, surprised.
She was standing at the kitchen table, with a mixing bowl in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. She had thin features and long black hair, which she had piled high on top of her head. She wore old mauve robes and something that resembled a pinafore.
“I am just making your father his dinner. He should be back any moment now. You will stop for dinner?”
Salazar said he wasn’t sure and mumbled some excuse. She looked sorry for a moment; small, weary lines appeared on her face, but then she nodded, understandingly. He went to check out his room again. It was exactly as the boys had left it. Two beds together, but for a table in between them. He sat down on the place where Godric slept. Then laid out. There next to the bed, he could see one of Godric’s hairs. He touched it.
There was the sound of the door shutting, and Salazar knew his father was home. He breathed in, then stood up. Salazar was just going to go and meet him when the door to his bedroom was opened, and his father walked in. His father’s name was Razledorf. He was as tall as Salazar, with black hair, but a bigger build. He was ageing now but must have been attractive in his day.
“Hello, son,” his father said. “Nice of you to come and visit.”
“Hello, Father,” he replied, unemotionally.
“Godric not with you?” he asked pleasantly.
“No,” Salazar replied, firmly.
Then Salazar fell silent, he hated every moment being there. But, he had to bring up the topic, he was just not sure how to do it.
“I see,” his father sighed, rubbing his beard. “I presume it’s the school?”
“Yes, Father, it’s going tremendously well! It’s being built right at this moment and everything. It’s going to look like nothing anyone’s ever seen before.”
“But you need more money?” Razledorf guessed.
“Yes,” Salazar confirmed, unconsciously rubbing his arm awkwardly.
“You remember my terms, well?” He said, looking straight into his son’s eyes.
“Yes, but I—”
“Salazar, I have spoken quite plainly with you on the subject before. I have supported this harebrained idea of yours, at great cost to myself I might add, willingly. I want to support your interests. I have not asked any questions of you, or of the project, or of your friends, but I have given you a complete free rein. Haven’t I?”
Salazar looked down, dejected. “Yes.”
“But, as you are well aware, the money I gave you, and any subsequent money, which I am perfectly happy to keep giving, comes on one condition—”
“That I marry,” he said quietly.
“Exactly. Any more is certainly out of the question, unless it is on the strict understanding that you are engaged and married as soon as possible, preferably with a son too. Do I have your word?”
“That’s imposs—”
“For Neptune’s sake, Salazar,” his father groaned, “this is for your own good. It is of the utmost importance that your position in society is secured and that your character is safe from idle gossip and speculation.”
“Speculation?” Salazar asked indignantly.
“I have been perfectly fair with you, haven’t I?" Razledorf raised his voice, and paced around, "I have allowed whatever this relationship of yours is with Godric to go on. Whether you choose to carry it on or not is entirely up to you, but you must be secured in a marriage. I have to protect you. I have to do everything I can in my power, to protect my son. They will hound you, Salazar, if they have the slightest suspicion. They will stop at nothing. My views on it are of no consequence; there is no other viable option.”
“Our relationship is that of brothers,” Salazar confessed, glad of something to be able to correct him on.
“Really, then what are you doing? What are you waiting for? Don’t be a fool, Salazar. There is no way for this to end well. If you’re pinning your future hopes on your ‘pet,’ the ‘stray’ you took in, then you are going to be sorely disappointed, if not worse.”
“Is that how you see Godric?” Salazar asked incredulously, eyes—wide.
“My relationship with Godric is not the concern of this discussion. However hard it is, I have to be strong for the both of us. I must insist upon you marrying. It does not have to be right away. We can arrange everything for you with a suitable girl. But, you must give me your word that you will, or else there can be no more money.”
Salazar looked defeated. He closed his eyes, pressing his eyelids firmly together tightly, and hoping he wouldn’t get upset.
“I didn’t choose this,” he said to his father at last, meekly, “I had no choice in the matter; you do know that, don’t you?”
“I should hope so,” he replied, firmly. “If you could have done something about it, and didn’t, out of laziness or weakness, then you would be no Slytherin.”
Salazar made to leave the room. He couldn’t hear any more of this. His ears were red, his heart was pounding. He was so angry.
But, before he left he asked him, “do you wish Godric had been your son instead of me?”
His father looked at him, mouth open. His eyes were sad rather than angry.
“How can you ask me that?” he said, shocked.
“Well, Razledorf,” Salazar announced before storming out, “you have my word.”
His relationship with his father had never been simple. They had not understood each other. But Salazar had never appreciated the lack of love until that day. Whatever surrogate father figure Razledorf appeared to Godric, or surrogate son Godric was to Razledorf, he did not know. They could have each other, for all he cared. But he would not be a father to Salazar any longer. He could pretend to himself all he liked that he was doing it for Salazar’s best interest. But Salazar knew the truth. He was nothing but weak.
*
Salazar had not stayed long but apparated back to Scotland. Outside in the dark, the hut looked warm, bright, and welcoming. He could already hear the sounds of laughter and merriment carrying over the wind to him. Inside were Rowena and Agatha, Helga and Oregon, and of course Godric. Why were their lives so much simpler than his? Why did his life have to be so different?
He walked in. They were overjoyed to see him again. They cheered and banged their mugs and asked him to sit down. They did not see behind the smile he wore, the hurt he bore.
“Well?” Rowena asked eagerly.
He nodded. “I got the money.”
“A glass to Salazar!” Godric cried.
Then they toasted him, and Godric mussed his hair. If he closed his eyes, he could forget for a moment and imagine everything was well with the world.