Disclaimer: This story is inspired by story elements from Harry Potter. The characters Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff all belong to J. K. Rowling
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Prologue: Something wicked this way comesI am called many things. Lord Slytherin by my servants (and they'd better not forget it, or they'll find themselves unemployed before they can say "quidditch") Professor Salazar by my students, and, by my exceedingly obnoxious "friends", Sal.
You see, with the minimal help of three other Wizards, who seem to share a single brain cell, I have founded the best school of magic in the whole world. A school Godric insisted on naming "Hogwarts", for a reason I cannot fathom. I have tried to ask Helga, but she just blushes and agrees with Godric. Honestly, you would think that woman didn't have any backbone at all. I even asked Rowena, the smartest of my simpleton "friends", but she just replied:
"Honestly, Sal, just roll with it. What does it matter what our school is called?"
'What does it matter?' 'What does it matter?' How can she say that? I, for one, would never name my legacy, my pride and joy, the reason wizards for years to come will know my name, after something so... so... so plebeian! But alas, once again my wit and intellect must bow before the loud majority.
In our esteemed institution, we have chosen to split up the students in four groups and each take care of one group. One of the Gryffindor students thought to call it their "house", a ridiculous notion, as there was no structures separate from the castle, but the other students took to it, and before I could do anything to correct them, everyone used the preposterous term.
My "friends" teach their students to be loud, disrespectful and without any decorum at all. They call it "being yourself". Pff, hippies.
Seeing me teach, one might wonder why I bother at all. I know I do. I hand out detentions to every miscreant, and unfortunately for me, that consists of just about every student in class. The dunderheads I have to teach... One of Helga's students actually thought he could brew in his hat, because he had forgotten his cauldron in his tower. Some of Godrics students amuse themselves with throwing valuable ingredients at each other, completely disregarding the dangers of the explosions that could occur, should any of the ingredients land in the wrong cauldron. Suffice to say, teaching is not something I enjoy.
At least my own students know not to pull such tricks on me. They are the only ones I can trust to behave with at least the smallest measure of decorum.
So after a long day of putting up with disrespectful imbeciles, I spend my evenings in my office, reading books and scrolls of magical theory in front of the crackling fire. These evenings is what keeps me from hexing every last one of those dunderheads they call 'students'.
But the worst students, the ones I despise teaching, are the Mudbloods. They come to the Magical World, having no idea about
anything, polluting the bloodlines of old Magical Families. And I'm not afraid of letting them know that they're not welcome here at Hogwarts School. Unfortunately, the others do not share my sentiment.
One day, when I was busy scrying the perimeter of the wards to make sure no intruders were entering the castle, I was rudely interrupted by none other than the illustrious Godric Gryffindor.
"What did you do?" he demanded angrily. I kept my eyes on the crystal ball, taking in the landscape past the greenhouses.
Was that an- No, it was just a fox. Hmm, I wonder if we can-"Look at me when I'm talking to you, you slimy little-"
"You do know it is rude to interrupt, don't you? Now, just go on with your business, and I'll go on with mine," I said firmly, trying to brush him off. Godric, unfortunately, was nothing if not determined.
"Don't you dare try to slither around it, Slytherin! Now, you can either tell me right now what you did to poor Anna Appleby or be intimately acquainted to my fist!" he growled, getting uncomfortably close.
"Didn't your mother teach you that it is rude to point?" I snapped back. "And I see no reason for you to interfere with my discipline of my students. Rest assured, her punishment was well deserved."
"'Well derserved'?" Godric echoed angrily. "She was bleeding, Sal!
Bleeding! It took Helga an entire hour to patch her back up, and you know how good Helga is at healing magic. I'm telling you now, Sal, this needs to stop. I won't have you mistreating my students without at least an explanation. So talk!"
"Fine, you want to know why? That disgusting little mudblood barged into my office two hours after curfew, tripped over my
"Most Potente Potions" book, into my desk, made a jar of rat spleens crash to the floor, and had the nerve not to answer when I asked her what in Merlin's name she thought she was doing. I am a patient man, but even I have my limits. After several minutes of defiant silence, she
threw a ball of parchment at my face! That was when I decided to take a more... let's say...
hands on approach. That imbecile should not have been allowed at school in the first place, and had I had the authority, I would gladly have expelled her. Such
people are not welcome at Hogwarts."
"You idiot, I was the one who sent her for you with a note for you. It's not her fault you terrified her into silence. And when will you get it into your thick head?
Muggleborns are a part of this school, like it or not! And if you're angry at their presence, fine, go ahead, be angry, but don't take it out on my students! You're nothing but a coward, afraid to pick on someone of your own size!"
"Nobody calls me a coward, Gryffindor. Nobody."
"You slapped me! You son of a werewolf..."
Loathe as I am to admit it, Gryffindor packed a good punch. I can still feel the bruises.
While we brawled (ugh, such a peasanty word), something passed between Helga and Rowena. I silent agreement, a silent decision. And looking back, that should have been my first clue that something was wrong.
No need to tell you who won the fight. I had the strangest feeling Helga and Rowena was on Godric's side... And I knew I had to think of something. And fast.
Seething with humiliation, I went back to my study to lick my wounds and plan my revenge. Oh, yes, vengeance would be sweet...
I plunged through my books on Dark Magic and Potions that night. Searched for a potion, a spell, a ritual
anything that would help me pull one over them. I found a curse that would make them age faster, halfing the time they had to live. Unfortunately, that curse required unicorn's blood, and even I would never slay something so pure. So that idea had to be binned. I also found a ritual that would not allow them to have children, effectively wiping out their entire lines. But that spell only worked if the caster was older than all the victims, and Helga was a good ten years older than me. That wouldn't work either.
I didn't sleep at all the next several nights. I kept myself awake with Pepper-up potions and worked 'till the early morning hours. Every day was tense, my so called friends watching me with suspicious eyes, the students whispering in the halls as I passed them. But I didn't react. I didn't even give out any detentions, something that worried my students tremendously. I believe they think me an imposter. I filled with a fire that would not go out. A fire that energised me, a fire that made me feel invincible. It was the certainity that someday, somehow, I would have my revenge.
On the third night, I found something I thought I could use. It was a ritual that required eight generations of the same line to cast, each one of them an expert in a certain area. It would allow me to summon the victims from anywhere, even beyond the grave, to do my bidding, similar to a mind control curse. The idea had merit. But it was a tad too drastic for what I had in mind. And it sounded like an awful lot of work. Either way, I researched it, wrote notes and cross referenced everything I would need. Just in case.
And it turned out I needed it.
That fateful morning, I walked out of my office to be met with three wands trained at my chest. I looked up to see three pairs of hard eyes looking intently at me. My eyes darted from one wand to the other, trying to determine the best course of action. I was rather proficient with a wand myself, but facing three opponents at once might prove to be difficult.
"Salazar Slytherin, you have proven yourself to be a danger to the school. You will be removed shortly. Surrender your wand and follow us," Rowena Ravenclaw seriously in that official tone of voice that means you had better watch out. I licked my dry lips. My sharp eyes caught a slight weakness in their line and dashed for freedom. I didn't get far before I heard a shout of "Expelliarmus!". My wand clattered to the floor. I turned to face my coworkers, now truly afraid for the first time. I was virtually defenceless against three angry, wand wielding individuals.
"Sal," Helga said with a mournful look in her eyes. "I'm sorry it had to come to this. But I can't risk my students' safety. And I hope you understand that." I did not, in any way, shape or form, feel touched by Helga's goodbye. Not the slightest.
"
Ferte in noctem animam team," they began to chant. "
Illustrent stellae viam team. Aspectu illo glorior."
I could feel a magical wind building in the room.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked in an attempt to sway them.
"
Dum capit nox diem cantate vitae canticum, sine dolore actae," they continued, ignoring my words.
I covered my face to minimize the damage of whatever spell they were casting.
"
dicite eis, quos amabas, te numquam."
The magic in the room began to pulse.
"
Obliturum," they finished. And just like that, the most feared wizard of our age, was gone.
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W/N: Thank you to anyone reading this
I struggle to keep my story from becoming too long winded. I hope I succeeded somewhat. Stay tuned for more dastardly plans from Salazar Slytherin - greatest of Hogwarts four.
~Emily
