*
All truths and trickery reveal themselves on the eve of Samhain.
Godric enchants the iron-bolted locks to a lone tower overseeing one of the newly built courtyards. As the Founders, they are owed discretion… secrecy… vigilance… the intimacy flourishing and carrying in their magic between them as companions…
The students will rest, preparing for their morning lessons and heading for bed. Not a soul shall wake.
Rowena lights the fires, undressing herself and slipping apart her pearl-satin buttons. Her fine, dark hair knotted with opals and pearls and the loveliest of blue sapphires elegantly glittering in the flame's light. Salazar's eyes follows the alabaster curve of a shoulder, grasping Rowena's hand into his, raising it and kissing lightly upon her palm. She quietly hums, delighting him.
She burns more brightly than ashes. Her grey-ash eyes.
Helga conjures an array of sweetwine and lemon tarts. Apple crisp pastries. Trenchers of soft, fluffy creams. Chocolats. Salazar tastes the ripe blue berries on her kiss-swollen lips. She waltzes to an invisible partner, smiling and twirling. The back of her peasant-dress, ivory and made of linen, opened to expose her dark brown skin. Godric's fingers trail her for any warmth.
Curls of reddish orange adorned with flowers. Helga's bosom and her womanly hips appear a shapely round. Eyes of the palest and most iridescent hue of gold. Salazar can nay compared a beauty, or a sense of pure intention and goodness, to hers.
She bows to Godric standing beside her, combing through his flaxen hair woven into decorative ceremonial plaits. Godric's mouth touches her cheek, as he whispers fancies and yearnings and passions for Helga's flesh, nuzzling this nose on her. From where he sits on a velvety upholstered chaise, Salazar can see Godric's breeches tightening. A lustful longing claims him.
Rowena drapes herself in a veil of dark lace, bare as her birth, Salazar's right hand crawls inside her thigh. She reaches for Helga, covering the other woman's eyes with a fabric band sewn in marigolds and honeysuckles and trefoils as fair as the sun.
Godric urges Rowena closer, pressing his mouth tenderly upon her head. He lays his hand upon Salazar's to Rowena's thigh.
A lit candle holds in Helga's hand. The heat simmers near Salazar's brow and Godric's hairy chest. She tilts the melted, hot wax onto Godric's collar, listening eagerly for a faint and euphoric groan. Salazar cannot see how burning one gives pleasure, but…
He does not cower away from the high, swaying flame. It licks at Salazar's fingertips, reddening and throbbing them.
Pain means very little to him.
Salazar feels a solemn-eyed and expressionless Godric nudge his own fingers aside. As if protecting him. Godric's hand dives under his trousers, groping for the length of Salazar's cock and pumping him aggressively. Salazar's forefinger prods over Rowena's cunt, separating her lips and thrusting deep inside her, pulling out, thrusting in, until she quivers out a moan.
Helga shushes her, roaming their lips together and murmuring Rowena's name. She lowers the candle, slipping off her eye-band. Rowena eases off the top of Helga's gown, cradling a large, firm breast and kissing Helga's nipple gently.
One of the many hands within Salazar's pursuits covers his fluttering eyelids.
That's when pain returns full-force, striking him down.
*
Fluid drips from Salazar's ears. He regains himself, finding his arms and legs paralyzed and bound to a wooden stake. His neck stiff. The black, unlaced tunic and his boots rumpled. Salazar's head pulses as his heart, aching him. All else seems numbed.
A shape emerges out of the Forbidden Forest's thickening mist.
"Does treachery…" Salazar rasps, eyeing Godric lifting his torch, "… works its will… so freely among our kind…?"
"You understand why this has come to pass, Salazar…"
Rowena, fulled dressed in her deep blue silks, clutches onto Helga's arm. Both of them gaze over Salazar's thin, angular eyes and his thin mouth. His tan skin washed out by the dimming light. Blood gleams within his long, midnight-coloured hair.
"We cannot allow you to harm one of the students," Rowena murmurs.
Despite the sensitivity in his pupils mismatched, and his blotchy-black vision, Salazar glares in her direction. "I would never," he vows. "Magic is sacred in what I believe… in what all of us believe… it is who we are…" Godric looks away, clasping onto Salazar's wand. "I will not see magic become ravaged… by those who have hunted us and killed us for centuries…"
"They are only children," Helga beseeches. "We can teach them to keep our secrets. We can teach them to respect magic and each other." Her lips tremble. Salazar can smell the bitterness in the winds. "We must trust them with our future, Salazar."
"You speak of trust… aye, you speak of it so passionately," Salazar mocks her, wrenching himself. "Is this what you speak of?"
Godric's translucently blue eyes narrow.
"We love you," he whispers, staring into the lines of Salazar's livid face. "Do not make this harder than it need be."
This is it.
This is what they have worked for.
And it has been for naught.
Salazar observes grimly as his friends cut themselves upon a dagger infused with an ancient sorcery, bleeding heavily. "My heart and my magic belongs to you… and to you always…" he confesses, waiting for each of them to approach.
Helga chants softly, wishing him life and love in what lies beyond here. She squirms against his mouth, accepting the fierce nip of Salazar's teeth to her rosy-brown flesh. He sucks the tinge of her lifeblood between his teeth.
Rowena and Godric kiss him, bleeding from wrists and lips when Salazar bites them, sucking and drawing in their magic.
Sealing their fates.
He hisses in Parseltongue, arousing a wicked incantation that vibrates the air around them, and choking the final words as Godric impales him with the dagger and chants along with the women. He rips into a dull-eyed Salazar, flinging across his navel, letting out a torrent of scarlet horror at their feet. A mound of stinking-hot intestines tumble onto the dewy, dark grass.
They wait for Salazar's last fogging breath, ridding of him and prohibiting the students from entering the Forbidden Forest.
*
According to legend, Salazar Slytherin disappeared.
He left Hogwarts of his own accord as a formidable shadow of the Wizarding World's past.
Many spoke of his hatred and deceit.
Rowena died of her broken heart, weakened by Salazar's dark curse growing inside her, stealing her magical life force. She was the first to pass on. Godric lost a dueling match with an old enemy, succumbing to his injuries alone. The very same weakness Rowena carried—it carried Godric and Helga who peacefully slipped away of illness during the morning of her grandson's birth.
Never would the truth be known.
*