The Founders

Chapter I

House of Swords,

Salazar Slytherin

"We must end this war."

"Alba is dead, murdered in cold blood by muggles and you want to end it?" Salazar stared coldly at his friend. "We can't retreat now. This would be foolish. Muggles must be punished for what they did."

"You are too young to feel that amount of revenge Salazar. We all miss Alba deeply, but we must put our feelings aside and think of our future. A future without war."

The patriarch of the Hufflepuff had made his choice. Salazar could tell Dante had said what everyone was thinking. He was standing alone, facing men and women obnubilated by their awe and admiration of the prodigious Gryffindor family.

"I am seventeen, Dante. As far as I know, it had never been a concern when it was about Godrick." Salazar glanced at the assembly, anger rumbling in his blue eyes, "you seem all moved but no one here is strong enough to act as we should."

"You are talking about my dead mother" Godrick cried out at last, raising himself, both palms clapping on the table. "She'd been burned alive just a few hours ago and you are talking about her as if I'm not here!"

"Godrick," said his father calmly, taking his son's hand in his, "get yourself together."

"Can't you see I'm right here? Salazar, I will not tolerate your foolishness again. We need to stop this stupid war, we are losing! Can't you see it? You are a fool, and you know it."

A fool. He'd been called a fool before. Around an oak table just like this one, a few years back. But what were a few years? Nothing had really changed, only time duplicating itself, distorting the old faces with new ones, transforming feeble magic into cogent blackness. Around it, in fancy crimson chairs were still roughly the same people who believed they knew everything about anything. Salazar's magic was blowing inside of him, bumbling in every part of him - but he had to restrain it. Down as deep as possible, at the bottom of his own ocean of magic, in-depth dark waters with dragonfish and goblin shark. Inhaling, exhaling, slowly, bit by bit, he gathered every piece of his precious magic to lurk in the dark, again.

He tried to close his eyes, and concentrate on calming the restless waters, but all he could glimpse were the faces of those wizards making him edgy with impatience. The features of those calling him a fool. They were talking nonsense from nine to noon and he was exhausted by their passiveness.

When he opened his eyes again, he focused on Godrick. His mother had been burned, at dusk of this very long day, by a muggle fire not too far from here, only a couple of miles away he assumed. The mother of he, Godrick defender of the great muggle cause, the peacemaker. But wasn't it the irony of it all? The devil's morning laugh, that the one who truly believed in them was also the first to witness his mother, the flesh of his flesh, burned from all trust. Godrick could say all he wanted, but here was the truth of it all, in what remained when everything else had burned to the ground.

"Salazar," said Godrick's father smoothly - for he must have seen the expression on his face "you don't want to be rude."

Salazar looked hard at him, then raised himself from his chair, and walked around the table, softly stroking the edge of it with his fingers, his green serpentine ring reflecting the dim light of the room. His pace was calm with confidence, when he arrived at Godrick's father's elbow he halted and slightly bend to whisper in his ear - but audibly enough so that everyone else could hear - "if I were you I'll take that back because you don't want to see me becoming rude."

"Enough!" Zarùn Silver's voice resonated under the dark vault. "Salazar, Alba's murderers were taken care of, you must fall in with our decisions and not act for yourself. As painful as these losses are, we are at war, casualties are common-"

An echoing screech quieted the Assembly, cutting off Zarùn. All eyes turned to the huge doors to witness a young man, beautifully cold, stalking to the rostrum, a scornful smile on his pale face as he acknowledged the effect his entrance made. 

"Well, well, well. I see tension is running high here." The youngster said sarcastically. He slowly climbed the wooden stage and, glancing at the suspicious audience, leaned casually against the chair of Salazar.

"Caecilius." Salazar said, his cold features softening faintly.

The Slytherin cadet nodded slightly at his brother.

"Turning our back to the muggle world is maybe the worst idea you came up with, Brother. Though they don't have magic, they have powerful weapons. Weapons able to kill us. We can't risk having them as our enemies but, if we want to protect our community, we must not integrate them fully."

A rumour of disagreement went through the crowd of wizards. Caecilius raised his elegant hands and continued, ignoring Zarùn's insistent look.

"For our sake, we must separate our worlds, create a world outside of theirs, one of which they would be oblivious to. We must live in the shadows, no matter what some of you will say."

Ignoring the new complaints, the young man faced Zarùn and stared at him intensely.

"The Gryffindor lost a wife and a mother. They should have some time to mourn properly." Caecilius said in a low voice, resting lasciviously his elbows on the oak table, still looking at the Speaker of the House. "I know they are the core and body of this Assembly but for their own good, they must step aside for some time."

Salazar looked hard at his younger brother, a glow of understanding in his cold eyes. He had finally an ally alongside him.

The absence of the Gryffindor and of their pure ideals was his opening to finally expose his outlook, to cast doubt on their line of actions. It was maybe the moment he was waiting for so long. Always despised, never listened, nor completely trusted because of his parents and his opinions.

Salazar could feel his blood boiling along with his magic. He had never been a good second. Though Godrick was his friend, he would not restrain himself from acquiring what he lusted for. He was patient. As the snake waited for his prey, he would wait until his time came. Until then, he must work in the shadows, silently building his victory, and Caecilius would be the main actor of his success.