The Chamber
Salazar was alone in his office. He didn’t know where else to go. Everywhere else was tainted by his memories. He even dreaded going to his bed-chamber. There, as well, he would be alone, but he would hope Godric would come in. He would be surrounded by the things Godric had touched, and the bed he had once slept in. He rubbed his eyes. What had happened? How had things changed so drastically? The thing was, nothing had changed for him. He was still the same as ever. He still wanted the same thing. He still wanted what they’d had. He hadn’t dreamt it, had he? Those things Godric had said, had he imagined them? Did Godric still want them? Had he ever wanted them?
Just then there was a knock on the door, and Godric Gryffindor himself came in. He looked slightly timid, but also wore a determined look on his face. Oh, his face, Salazar thought. One look at his face, and he would do literally anything for him. He would forgive him absolutely anything.
“You never used to knock,” Salazar said, sounding more bitter than he had intended to.
Godric, half shrugging, half abased, said, “Oh, I didn’t know if you wanted to be disturbed.”
“When have I ever minded you disturbing me?” he asked, accusatory, and thought—chance would be a fine thing.
“Well, I thought you’d been avoiding us.”
Salazar wanted to throttle him. He avoid him! The thought was incredulous. Who had been the one who had been out every evening with that awful woman? What was he supposed to say?
He breathed in sharply, “I didn’t think you’d been around long enough to notice.”
“I am walking out with a woman, Salazar,” he said, profoundly, with an accompanying look as if to say—what did you expect?
Oh, thought Salazar, as if he hadn’t noticed. So, he was supposed to just be okay with being abandoned, then, was he? What? He was supposed to just be grateful, for whenever Godric decided he was free enough to see him? He was supposed to just be there for him when Godric had nothing better to do. Great, yeah, sure! That sounded fair. If he couldn’t be around as much, then he should at least make more of an effort when he could be.
Salazar explained, “You don’t talk to me anymore, we don’t do anything anymore…”
“I’ve been busy,” he winced.
Yeah, thought Salazar, inventing broomstick competitions. “What is this?” Salazar exclaimed, exasperatedly, “What do you want?”
“I thought we were friends?” Godric said, ardently.
What! Salazar’s mind burst, and his face must have shown it, because Godric carried on.
“What, are you just going to abandon me, then? Am I not worth it anymore?”
Salazar could hardly contain his emotions any longer. His chest heaved up and down. What was happening? Was he trying to be ironic on purpose?
“Me abandon you?” Salazar gaped, incredulously.
“Don’t you want me to introduce you to her?” he asked, surprised.
No! Salazar thought sharply, I just want to be with you, my best friend. Spend some quality time with you, together, like we used to.
Godric continued, sadly, “She hasn’t got any family, you see; her father and mother are both muggles. She had to move to Hogsmeade. She hasn’t got anyone else now.”
All the feelings Salazar had had for Godric came flooding back, just as readily as they’d ever done. Looking at his warm face, his stupid, beautiful hair, the arms that used to hug him, he gave in.
“If that’s what you want,” Salazar sighed.
Godric, having got what he wanted, nodded, and turned to leave. No! Salazar cried, internally. What? He was going to leave, just like that? He had to keep him talking.
“The Slytherins would like a rematch,” he said, making something up on the spot, “Slytherin vs Gryffindor.”
“Yeah?” Godric replied, one eyebrow raised, “Fancy being beaten again, do you?”
Godric was clearly on more comfortable ground now, with the change of direction in the conversation.
Salazar scoffed, “Yes, sure. This time though, no silly, flying broomsticks. Just a straight-up duel, your guy versus mine.”
“You're on,” Godric agreed, and nodded.
Salazar said, “I’ll let you know the time and place.”
There was nothing more to say. They had never struggled to find things to say before. Godric turned, and left, with a small smile. Salazar collapsed on his desk, he buried his face in his hands.
*
Perry had become more popular than ever before. Particularly with the Gryffindors, but even with people from other houses, who seemed to look up to him, and ask him for his opinions on everything, whether he had a clue about the subject or not. The victory had further cemented his friendship with Fyfe and Henry, who seemed to relish their roles as the chairs of the Perry Faulkner Fan Club. Valda Hyde was also an active member of the club, and was truly insufferable. She was constantly trying to talk to him, and trying to get him to flirt with her, and refused to take any of his hints. Even if he was interested, it would have been a right turn-off. Everyone apparently adored him, or else was jealous of him. Like Aldridge, who was constantly trying to verbally attack him. Although no one took any notice of him, including Perry. Everyone seemed to think he was this amazing, wonderful person, which of course he wasn't. It was quite annoying really. They were forming this sort of fantasy idea of him, which he couldn't live up to. They had gotten him wrong, and he didn't have the heart to tell them. He worried that when they finally realised who he was, they would all be disappointed with him. Everyone, that was, except for one person—Orion. Who was as quiet, and reserved as ever, and hadn't shown Perry the slightest bit of interest. He neither lauded him, nor antagonised him, but was oblivious to him, indifferent, and aloof. It was so flipping attractive. What was going on inside his head? What did he think of him? He wanted Orion to like him. He wanted to charm him, and win him over. Someone so discerning and astute was surely worth the winning, and maybe he'd like him too, for who he really was.
Just being able to talk to him was a mission in itself. In classes Orion was constantly surrounded by Slytherins, and Perry was constantly surrounded by everyone else. It seemed like they were destined to always be separated. He resolved in mind, that he would do something about it. He would seize the next opportunity which presented itself.
“I don’t understand you, mate,” Fyfe declared to Perry, exasperatedly, at the end of one of their star classes, “the woman is practically throwing herself at you.”
“Exactly,” Perry replied to him, looking down, “it is not a very attractive quality.”
Fyfe looked around at Valda, his eyes full of longing. Perry decided he’d had enough, and called to her across the classroom, as the students busily packed their things away.
“Valda!” Perry called.
“Perry, darling,” she cooed back, looking pleased with herself.
“Valda, I’m not interested in going out with you, sorry. But, I know someone who is. Fyfe here is absolutely desperate!”
Fyfe turned scarlet, and kicked Perry under the table. Valda looked affronted, and confused all at the same time, but then her expression relaxed.
“Yes, alright then,” she said, decidedly.
Fyfe almost gagged, “You what? You'll go out with me? You mean it?”
“Yes, sure,” she said, calmly, “but, I think it’s only fair that I should warn you—I’m pretty high maintenance.”
She looked nonplussed; Fyfe looked very 'plussed’. Perry looked at him with a very satisfied grin. Gwenda looked at Valda with scathing disapproval. The group got up to leave. Just as they were walking out, Perry noticed Orion had stayed back to ask Professor Ravenclaw a question. He was alone. Aldridge had finally left his side. With all the excitement about Fyfe and Valda, nobody would notice if Perry lagged behind. As he held back, everybody else carried on. He turned to look behind him again. Orion was starting to move. Suddenly, he felt nervous. What was he doing? What was he going to say? It was exciting! He crouched down, trying to look as though he was just adjusting his shoes. His face must have been so red.
“Oh, hi, Orion,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Hi, Perry,” Orion replied, sounding unfazed.
Perry got up and walked with him. He wasn’t sure if that was okay to do, but he had to try. This close to him, he realised how tall Orion was. He was as tall as he was, though a little thinner. He felt jittery. What should he say? He fretted. He started to play with the back of his head.
“Everything okay?” Orion asked him.
“Oh, yeah, sure, great!” Perry fumbled.
Abort! He thought. Abort! Bail! Eject! What was he doing?
“You?” he asked back.
“Yeah,” he smiled, “I’m fine.”
Perry sighed with relief, and smiled back. He risked a glance. Orion was staring back at him, with his dark, grey eyes—deep, and penetrating.
“Osprey’s a good guy,” Orion said, “he’s going to do well. I like him.”
“Yeah?” he said, jokingly, “he must be like me then.”
“Must be,” Orion smiled.
Perry brightened.
Then Orion asked, “Is your name really Peregrine?”
“Yes,” Perry admitted, embarrassedly.
"I like it," he said, confidently, "it's better than Orion."
"It's not," he objected, "Orion is way cooler!"
Orion smiled.
"If you like it," Perry carried on, "maybe it'll grow on me!"
They had reached the Great Hall. Terrifying as it was, Perry didn't want their conversation to end. But, before they could make any more exchanges, Aldridge appeared.
"Orion," Aldridge demanded, then he saw Perry, "what are—"
Fyfe appeared on the staircase, with Henry just behind him.
"Perry! Come on! Professor Gryffindor's got something to tell us!"
"Come on Orion," Aldridge sneered, "you don't want to cramp the champions' style."
Perry spoke up bravely, "See you around, Orion."
"Yeah, hopefully," Orion replied.
They separated, regretfully, and walked towards their respective directions.
"What were you talking to him for?" Fyfe asked Perry, suspiciously, as they walked away.
*
It had worked, Orion thought, hanging back after class. He couldn't believe it. He'd hoped it would, of course, but it had been a long shot. He'd had to try something though—Perry was always surrounded by people. But, he couldn't believe he'd been on his own too, and that Perry Faulkner had spoken to him. His emotions were a maelstrom inside him. How could he process it? He couldn't help smiling to himself. He thought about Perry's face, and his physique. He was sporty, and popular, but intelligent, and quick too. He was perfection. He’d talked to him!
Another letter from his mother was laid out on the table in front of him. But, he couldn't concentrate on it. He didn't want to. He just wanted to remember their conversation. What on Earth was Aldridge going on about, next to him? He wished he’d stop. His contemplations, though, were forcibly curtailed anyway, when Professor Slytherin walked into the common room. A silence quickly fell.
“We have challenged the Gryffindors to a one-on-one duel. No ridiculous broomsticks this time. Just a straight-up duel. Our best wands-man against theirs,” Salazar drawled.
The Slytherins looked around each other excitedly. Aldridge looked ready to speak up, eager to redeem himself.
“No, not you, Aldridge,” Salazar said, unemotionally, “This time we will be using Orion.”
Salazar looked at Orion with serious eyes, as though the weight of Slytherin's future reputation now rested on his shoulders. Orion gave nothing away, but nodded.
“I will inform you when training will begin,” Salazar announced to the room.
“Sir,” Osprey Faulkner said, with his arm raised, looking perplexed, “Doesn’t Professor Gryffindor teach us defense?”
“Quite,” Salazar replied, his eyes glinting, “Which is precisely why you’ll be requiring some proper education on the subject.”
Without waiting for any further questions, Salazar turned on the spot, and left. The Slytherins suddenly started talking animatedly to one another. Some of them clasped Orion on the shoulders, encouragingly. Orion closed his eyes. Oh, no, he thought. What if Perry was chosen as Gryffindor's duelist? What if he had to fight him? He couldn’t bear the thought of it.
*
Finding a place that was large enough for the Slytherins to practice, but secluded enough to be private, was a challenge. The Gryffindors seemed to be everywhere. They were like rats. Salazar despised them in growing measure. Perhaps it was time to unveil his master stroke, an idea he had been toying with for some time. Ever since Greece, when he had seen the underground chamber, he had contemplated having his own private chamber in the castle. He didn’t know why the idea seemed so attractive, but the thought of having his own lair, which the other founders had no control over, certainly had its positives. Although, if he was being completely honest with himself, perhaps he thought he deserved a bigger one than Erebus. Now that Godric had abandoned him, the idea of retreating into his own world seemed more desirable than ever. Oswald had shown him the magic he needed; it wouldn't take much to create the chamber. Then it would be his own private palace within the castle. He could use it for whatever he wanted. He could teach the students, away from the others, whatever he saw fit.
He began work straight away, dedicating all his spare time to its construction. It would be hidden away underground. Of course, it would have a secret entrance, a door that he alone could open, unlike the chamber in Greece. It would be emblazoned with his emblems. The symbol of his house: the snake.
*
When the first stages of the chamber were complete - enough for the Slytherins to get their first glimpses of it at least - Salazar began the training.
He led the Slytherins, in silence, to the first floor. There, in an obscure, abandoned room, he moved across it to reveal the trap door. After a few excited gasps, the Slytherin pupils descended into the tunnel one at a time. Soon they were all standing by the entrance to the chamber. A large stone door marked the secret chamber’s entrance. Salazar could sense the students around him. There was a mixture of intrigue, pretension, and horror between them, in their looks. They anxiously tried to work out what they were doing there, and what would await them. Salazar approached the stone door, which had been hewn into the rock, and softly caressed it. He spoke to it in Parseltongue.
“Open, chamber of wonders,” he hissed.
The door appeared to hear his words, and a stone snake, which formed part of the door's mechanism, slithered out, and the door swung open. He led the band of students into the room. A chill in the air caused several to shiver, but they still gasped in awe. It was a long room, as big as the Great Hall above it, with huge snake heads lining the walls, vaulting the ceiling. The space would be perfect for dueling, as it was long and thin.
Their footsteps echoed over the stone floor as they turned their heads all around to take in the cavernous room. Salazar's black robe swept over the floor as he moved, dragging behind him. He held it as he swung round to look at the pupils.
"We have work to do," he commanded.
Then they began. Partnering up, they practiced casting spells on each other. The atmosphere was somewhat more serious than in Professor Gryffindor's classes. Salazar was pleased to see the majority of them had mastered the disarming spell, but Orion would need significantly more than that to triumph in his duel. Salazar watched him and Aldridge carefully, critiquing and suggesting improvements all the while.
"Is that the best you've got? Come on, Black!" Salazar cried.
Orion sighed. He felt torn between his desire to please and his concern for who he would be dueling against. Fortunately, though, at the end of their lesson his fears were alleviated.
"I've heard from Professor Gryffindor that our opponents will have a change of champions too. They've decided to swap Faulkner for Farringdale," Salazar grinned, maliciously, "I think, if anything, Black, that's even better for us."
Orion nodded. Internally, he let out a tremendous sigh of relief. At least he wouldn't have to face Perry.
Salazar continued, his eyes narrowing, “This chamber is to remain a secret. It is for the sole use of the House of Slytherin forever. On no account must anybody else be made aware of its existence, or its location.”
The terrified looks of the students seemed to confirm that he did not need to be worried.
“Remember, your power, your magic is your very own blood. Your veins pulsate with it. Your wands channel it. Allow the purity and the power of it to flow. Do not hinder it. Protect it.”
*
The day of the duel came. Tensions between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins had never been so fraught. Neither Godric nor Salazar had mentioned the challenge to Rowena or Helga, whether by accident or intentionally, so neither of the women quite understood the cause of the tense atmosphere in the school that day. Though they covered it up well, the Gryffindors were concerned for the outcome, as none of them had seen the Slytherins practicing for the duel, and they knew Orion to be a very competent wands-man. Fyfe was putting on a brave face, and his two friends' overly friendly encouragement wasn't always helpful. Valda was extremely pleased with herself, as she now had such a close tie to one of the duelists. Whether he conquered or died, she felt she could play the celebratory or grieving girlfriend perfectly. Gwenda alone voiced her concern.
"Don't do anything stupid, Fyfe," Gwenda said.
"Oh, thanks, Gwenda! That's just what I was planning on doing!" Fyfe said, irritably, but this was just to mask his insecurity.
"I mean, don't underestimate him," she said, timidly, blushing, "It would not be surprising if they tried to play dirty."
"Orion's not like that!" Perry said, defensively, without thinking.
"He's best friends with Aldridge," Henry argued, "and we all saw what he tried to do to you in that race!"
Henry clasped Fyfe’s shoulders supportively. Fyfe was still trying to act as if he was above caring, but he was grateful for it, and found it reassuring. Perry was concerned. He didn’t like the rivalry that was forming between themselves and the Slytherins.
“Fyfey, dear,” Valda said, in an unusually high-pitched voice, “This is for you - for luck.”
Then she presented him with a handkerchief. He took it, reluctantly, and then stuffed it roughly into his pocket.
When the time for the duel drew near, the Gryffindors accompanied Fyfe, like a pack, to the Great Hall. The other students were there huddled around a central space which had been cleared for the duel. Orion stood, steely and formidable, at the other end of the hall. His wand held out. Professor Slytherin and Professor Gryffindor were talking to one side. Fyfe felt so nervous and peculiar, like everyone was watching him. The group that had been surrounding him went and stood to the sides. He was on his own now. Professor Gryffindor came up to him and asked him how he was. He was encouraging and reassuring. Fyfe replied, untruthfully, that he was fine.
“The duelists will face each other,” Salazar commanded, coldly.
This Fyfe and Orion did.
“Bow…” Salazar drawled.
“Just to reiterate,” Godric interrupted, concernedly, “that neither duelist may seek to seriously maim or injure their opponent.”
“Naturally,” Salazar replied.
Fyfe strained to appear calm, but his heart was racing all the while.
“Commence,” Salazar declared, flicking his wand so that the candles seemed to dim, except for those around Fyfe and Orion, which seemed to spotlight them.
“Expelliarmus!” Orion shouted, stretching out his arm.
Fyfe dived out of the way. The crowd gasped and took a step back. He circled round, keeping his eyes fixed on Orion.
“Flipendo!” Fyfe cried, as a light shot out of his wand.
Orion stepped back and countered quickly, “Protego!”
The light struck an invisible barrier and deflected off it, striking the ground. Orion straightened up and walked forwards purposefully.
He took aim, “Aguamenti cascadia.”
Fyfe held his wand in his two hands and tried to shield himself. Orion hadn’t been aiming directly for him. Suddenly, a jet of water appeared above Fyfe’s head, and as he looked up, it drenched him, like he was standing under a waterfall. He moved his hands to stem the flow.
Then he pointed his wand and cried out, “Finite incantatem!”
With Fyfe distracted, Orion cried, “Glacio!”
A jet of bright blue light erupted from his wand. It struck Fyfe in the crook of his right shoulder. His sodden wet clothes froze instantly. The onlookers looked on in horror. Professor Gryffindor raised his wand, but he was blocked by Professor Slytherin. Fyfe stumbled backwards and fell. His body thumped on the floor, his frozen robes crunching. The ice broke. He clambered to his feet, his face was pale, his breath rasping.
“Stupefy!” Fyfe shouted quickly, flicking his wand.
This time Orion had to dive out of the way of a red jet. But he quickly got back to his feet. He panted, briefly looking in Professor Slytherin’s direction, whose cold eyes bore straight back into him. He felt the rush of panic, as the adrenaline pulsated through him. He looked back at Fyfe, at his determined gaze and his floppy blond hair.
“Expelliarmus,” Orion thundered.
It was so quick, Fyfe had no time to raise his arm, or move. Suddenly, he felt his wand slipping out of his fingers and shooting straight into the air. Orion looked triumphant, but then, his expression changed just as quickly. Fyfe looked behind him. His wand was being held by a thunderous looking Professor Ravenclaw, as though the wand held a particularly contagious disease. Her hands were deadly still. Her lips were so pursed that they had turned purple and quivered slightly. Her black robes billowed out.
“Everyone will leave immediately,” she said, coldly, “and go to their common rooms.”
She looked around as though daring anyone to object. Nobody needed an excuse not to, and they started to move out of the hall frantically.
“Except,” Professor Ravenclaw announced, audible enough for everyone to cease moving immediately, “Mr. Black, Mr. Farringdale, Professor Slytherin, and Professor Gryffindor. That is all.”
The room cleared miraculously quickly; nobody had any wish to linger. However, there was a good degree of chatter as they left. Professor Ravenclaw moved towards the remaining boys.
“I believe this is yours, Mr. Farringdale,” Professor Ravenclaw said as she handed Fyfe back his wand.
He nodded vigorously, grateful to have it returned to him. Then she spun to look at the two men.
“I was not aware that any classes would be taking place this evening,” Rowena said, threateningly.
“No, I er ...” Godric floundered.
“Perhaps we could agree on extracurricular activities together, in future?” she said.
Godric, in turn, nodded, caught like a naughty school boy. Rowena breathed deeply. In fact, Salazar could have sworn she looked almost sad. What was that?
Professor Ravenclaw turned and spoke to Fyfe and Orion, “Please,” she said, then corrected herself, “It would be unfortunate, indeed, if something such as this should divide two excellent, gifted students such as yourselves.”
She looked at them, like she was reading them, as though she was warning them. They looked down, unable to hold her intense gaze.
“Perhaps we should all retire,” she suggested.
Then she turned and left.
The boys followed after her. Orion briefly looked at Fyfe, who was looking stern. But, the boy didn't look back. Orion just felt so ashamed.
Neither Godric nor Salazar spoke to each other. But, were both sullen.
Once they were outside the Great Hall Salazar said, "come, Orion," before Orion had any chance to apologise to Fyfe and led him straight towards the dungeons.
Godric gave Fyfe a small smile and, putting a hand on his shoulder, led him up the main staircase.
No-one felt like it had been their finest hour.