The Bathroom
They sat around the top table in the Great Hall. Helga had enchanted candles to hover over the table, casting a warm glow that highlighted the hall's grandeur. The ceiling, enchanted to reflect the sky outside, displayed a clear, bright evening. Godric, Salazar, Agatha, and Oregon were present. The table, made of solid oak, was laden with goblets and dishes grand enough to rival the table of Caractacus. The only dampener on the proceedings was the absence of Rowena.
“You have built one mighty fine school,” Oregon declared, raising his goblet in admiration.
“It is, isn’t it,” Helga smiled, her eyes twinkling with pride.
Godric looked at his plate, perplexed. “Aren’t we missing something?”
“Just wait and see,” Helga replied, her smile widening.
“I’m sorry Rowena has not come,” Salazar said, turning to Agatha.
“Do not trouble yourself, Salazar,” Agatha beseeched him. “She needs time.”
As if on cue, the doors of the Great Hall swung open, and Rowena appeared. She walked purposefully to the top table, her black robes billowing behind her. She sat in silence next to her mother. The other five exchanged glances, agreeing silently not to mention her previous absence.
“Aha,” Helga cried, clapping her hands.
At once, food materialized on the plates in the center of the table. Nuts, berries, and stews appeared, steam rising from the bowls, filling the hall with a mouth-watering aroma.
Godric looked gobsmacked. “How on earth did that happen?”
Pleased with herself, Helga replied, “Now that is a little trick from our helpers!”
“House-elves,” Agatha scoffed, inspecting the bowl of broth suspiciously. “Well, one can hardly expect the same standards, but I’m sure they tried.”
Despite her words, Agatha took a spoonful. It was delightful, as the others could attest, but Agatha put her spoon down with a faint grimace.
“I have instructed them to use your recipe, Agatha,” Helga said, trying to appease her.
“Well, they still have a long way to go,” she replied, though she continued to eat.
Helga’s comment did the trick, and soon enough, Agatha was eating more enthusiastically. The atmosphere was generally subdued, with Rowena remaining silent and a feeling of trepidation about the arrival of students tomorrow. This would also be the last meal they had together for a long time. They soon finished.
“That was the first meal ever served at Hogwarts,” Godric remarked.
“The first of many,” Salazar added.
The boys sat back, replete.
“I should like to make a toast,” Rowena said, startling the others.
They all looked at her in amazement and eagerly poured each other drinks. With some degree of weightiness, Rowena toasted, “Absent friends.”
“Absent friends,” the company returned.
“Oswald!” Oregon boomed, raising his cup again.
The name was echoed by the others. Rowena flinched slightly. Not wanting to miss out, Godric stood up and raised his glass too. The more he spoke, the more his words seemed to get away from him.
“There never was ever a cleverer feller, and never was ever a more stellar feller. So never then sever this feller forever, but ever remember this feller whatever.”
When Godric finished, there was a pause. Assuming he had said something vaguely comprehensible, the company did at last cheer. Relieved, Godric sat back down.
After this, considering the next day would be a long and important one, it was generally agreed that the parties should retire. Oregon and Agatha returned home, and Helga and Rowena returned to their rooms, leaving the boys to return to theirs. They walked along the corridor and said goodnight to the girls when their directions diverged. Their footsteps echoed along the stone corridors in the strangely empty castle. Unbeknownst to anyone else, the boys were going to share a room. As Godric had put it, he couldn’t bear to be apart from his Salazar.
“I’m not remotely tired,” Godric admitted.
“No, nor me,” Salazar replied, curious to know what Godric was thinking. Godric looked at him with a mischievous grin.
“Let me show you something!”
Salazar was happy to acquiesce. Godric led them up many flights of stairs to the fifth floor, traveling along the corridor and counting the doors.
“I know it’s along here somewhere,” he said. “I asked Oswald to—aha!” He exclaimed, opening a door on the wall.
Salazar followed him in, somewhat bewildered. There, in white marble, was a sunken pool, reminiscent of the pools of Greece. Along the outside were jars and trinkets, just as had been the case at the bathhouse.
“Now, I know it’s not much,” Godric grinned, “there’s no saunas or massages, but I think we can manage!”
“Trust you!” Salazar laughed.
“It’s all for you!” Godric exclaimed, winking. “Well, partly.”
With their wands, it did not take them long to fill the pool and heat it. Unable to wait, Godric stripped swiftly and dived in. He broke the surface, gasping for breath, his hair and face dripping with water.
“Oh, it’s good!”
“We’re going to have to lock that door with a password,” Salazar said, taking a little more time to undress, allowing the water to warm up a bit more first.
“Come on, Salazar, come on, get your kit off. This isn’t a spectator sport, you know!”
Once in, it was indeed blissful. Salazar hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it or how much tension he’d been carrying over the last few weeks. It was just Godric and him. That wonderful, marvelous boy. This is what it would be like forever. An entire castle to make their own. They would be the greatest wizards of their time. Together, they would do incredible, earth-changing things. He was so happy. He longed to be with him, even when it was just the two of them together. They swam up and down the pool, splashing each other, lathering, and soaking. They tried out the different jars Godric had brought, wondering which one should be the ‘Hogwarts’ scent, which made them howl with laughter.
“What are you looking so happy about?” Godric asked, knowing the answer already.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Salazar said coyly. “I was just thinking.”
“Hmm,” Godric grinned, swimming with his chin just above the surface of the water. “Pray tell!”
“I was just thinking about that Greek school, you know, that professor, the one who was talking about friendship, two being stronger than one, and all that.”
“Well, you know what I think,” Godric said. “If ever there were best friends, it is us. If ever two souls could be united, ours must be.”
“Do you think they are, then?”
Godric swam towards him, treading water. His red hair darkened by the water, his green eyes bright, and his scent overwhelming. His muscles strained under the effort. The candlelight dappled on the bobbing surface.
“Yes,” Godric affirmed. “Course I do.”
Then he hugged Salazar. His skin was slippery and warm in the wetness of the pool.
Once they had their fill of swimming, they hauled themselves up, dripping water everywhere. They dried off and dressed again.
“I’m still not remotely sleepy,” Godric said.
“No, nor me,” Salazar agreed.
“You know what I fancy?” Godric asked rhetorically. “Mead!”
“Mead?” Salazar replied incredulously.
“Mead!” he confirmed with a twinkle in his eye.
The plan was inevitably forged. They were to go to the Hogs Head Inn in Hogsmeade. It was, after all, their last night of freedom before having to be serious teachers. They were just descending the staircase by the Great Hall, on tiptoes, when someone caught them.
“Where are you two off to then?”
It was Helga. She looked at them sternly.
“What about you?” Godric questioned her back.
“I was seeing to the house-elves before I retired. Peeves has been tormenting them!” She sighed, frustrated.
“We’re off to the Inn,” Salazar admitted. “You want to come?”
“Do I!” she said joyously.
The three of them left like naughty schoolchildren. They crossed the grounds, the grass glistening in the moonlight, until they saw the lights of Hogsmeade up ahead.
At night, the Inn came alive. It was packed with locals and travelers alike. The three managed to squeeze themselves around a small table. A band played lively tunes, and the atmosphere was electric. Hooded wizards and goblins chatted loudly, while others whispered furiously. The sound of mugs hitting wood, alcohol being consumed in great quantities, and brawls and cheering filled the air. They took turns getting rounds. The beer was cheap and plentiful, and soon they got very merry. Their toasts grew ever more outlandish. Even Helga forgot her reservations about the cleanliness.
“The noble Lord Slytherin, the finest teacher this school will ever see!” Salazar declared, raising his goblet.
“Here, here! Sir Godric, the last thing a dragon will ever see!” Godric responded with a laugh.
They all cracked up.
“Good health to those poor creatures, and may they never meet a Gryffindor!” Helga added with a grin.
“Lady Huffly, Hufflypuff,” Godric slurred, “her kindness we do not deserve, and her patience knows no bounds.”
They got up to dance. Helga moved gracefully, while Salazar and Godric tried their best but were not quite as effortless. The floor was packed, but they managed to bob and sway with the crowd. Salazar placed his hand on Godric’s back, and Godric placed a hand on his neck. They turned a few times before Godric danced with Helga, holding hands.
“These good people need to hear about Godric the Dragonslayer!” Salazar cried adamantly, trying to get the attention of those around him. "How can they not know?"
“Not again!” Helga giggled.
Salazar ignored her and sang loudly to the clapping, cup-wielding masses.
In days that'll pass, they'll chortle en masse,
At a fine, young ass, with balls made of brass
Who rode a wagon, swigging a flagon
With, but, a rag-on, out for a dragon.
He found it at last, but stood there aghast,
The beast was so vast, it let out a blast
Though it was unjust, it burnt to a crust,
His rag, and his trust, to leer, and to lust
Our hero now nude; his flagon was viewed,
But, kept ever shrewd; the creature was screwed
The beast had a knack, to crack and to whack,
But, he had a hack, and jumped on its back
Imagine its shock, when it couldn’t block,
But using a rock, he gave it the sock
So blush not to tell, how the beast really fell,
But, stand up, and yell, his bare-ass did well!
There was tumultuous applause. Salazar’s comic re-enactment was particularly enjoyed. Despite its growing mythology, his latest iteration went down a storm with the crowd just as much. Godric gave him a knowing look, as weary as ever, but smiling. They danced and danced some more, now with others joining in.
Salazar admitted fatigue and left Helga and Godric on the dance floor to sit for a while. He no longer felt like dancing, and he preferred to watch them enjoy themselves anyway. The place was warm and smelt vaguely of perspiration. A man approached him. He was tall and thin, middle-aged, with thinning hair. He walked with a sort of shuffle.
“Hankerton Humble,” he said, introducing himself with an outstretched arm.
Salazar took it. “Salazar Slytherin,” he replied.
The man took the seat opposite him. He offered to buy him a drink, but Salazar declined.
“I’ve been in Hogsmeade all my life,” he said.
“Is that so?” Salazar replied, interested.
“Reckon that school of yours could probably do with being looked after.”
“I assure you, that is our intention.”
“Oh, don’t misunderstand me!” He stammered, raising a hand. "I meant no disrespect, quite the reverse. I was offering my services. If you didn't have a caretaker and ever needed one, I'm your man."
"Thank you very much. I will take that on board and discuss it with my colleagues."
"No problem, then. My pleasure. I will leave you to your musings."
With a slight nod of his head, he left. What a peculiar man, Salazar thought. The school was starting to be embraced by the locals now.
He looked back at Godric and Helga. They were dancing with another woman, who had a mousey look with voluptuous brown hair. Petite next to Helga, she seemed to be getting on well with them, laughing and giggling. He felt that old pang of pain. Oh, Godric. Salazar did like to just look at him. It made him feel good. But, they would soon have to stop and get back. The hours were well advanced, and Godric, being slightly more than tipsy, was a worry.
“Le’s apparate,” Godric groaned, eyes starting to close.
He clung to Salazar's shoulders as they tried to lead him out into the street and back to the castle.
“Apparate,” Helga laughed. “You can’t even walk straight. You’ll end up in Timbuktu, or in half.”
“This way, old fellow,” Salazar patted his chest.
“Do you think we make respectable teachers?” Godric asked, looking green.
“I think we probably make very accurate looking teachers,” Salazar quipped.
It took them a while to negotiate their way back in the dark. It didn’t help that Godric had to practically be carried. But they eventually made it. The castle was dark and empty.
“I’ll take him from here,” Salazar told Helga.
“Sure you will,” Helga smirked and said goodnight.
Salazar had to carry him up. Godric was sweaty, he smelt, and he was almost entirely inebriated. But he was still his Godric, and it was everything to Salazar to hold him, feel him, and help him. To be honest, he didn’t want it to end. When at last it had to, he laid him down on his bed. He took off his shoes and cloak and tucked him in. He wanted to lie next to him and hold him forever. Would that be okay? Was that wrong? How could it be wrong? Salazar sat on his bed instead, staring at him. Godric groaned slightly, rolled over, and mumbled to him.
“You’re the best, Sal.”