Divided We Fall

Author's Note: Well, here's the second chapter. I'd like to dedicate this chapter to both Romina Stephanie of HPFF, for recommending Divided We Fall on the HPFF forums, and L J Conks of HPFF, whose wonderful review gave me the added drive that I needed to actually sit down and write this chapter. So, a "Thank You" to you both! Also, a "Thanks" goes out to garypotter of MNFF for beta-ing. Now, I'll shut up and let you get on with reading it. So, without further ado, I present to you the second part of Divided We Fall.

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Divided We Fall

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Chapter II: Nearly Brothers

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Golden rays of an early morning sun started to make their way through the windows of the great, stone castle, bringing the dawning of a new day to all who had slept within the castle's walls the night before. Birds could be heard chirping from the surrounding forest, and if one had looked out onto the grounds, they would have been able to see a brief glimpse of the Giant Squid as it floated in the cool, autumn waters of the lake. Leaves rustled through the trees in the slight breeze that had begun, signalling the beginning of a chilly, early October day.

Inside the castle, wizards and witches of many ages were slowly rising from their beds, dawning clothing for the day before heading into the Great Hall. Sweet smells of food already wafted up through the corridors, urging even the most reluctant risers to slip from slumber and into wakefulness. Friends joined each other on the staircases, in the corridors, at the wooden tables in the Hall, and the sounds of voices and laughter soon drifted through the castle as well, the carefree quality of youth infectious.

"Ah, the start of a new day," said a tall, auburn-haired man. He inhaled deeply, as if he could take the entirety of youth and new beginning into him with a single breath ... Not that he needed a rejuvenation of his strength by any means. Rather, the opposite was probably true. Wild, windswept hair framed the rough and weathered face of Godric Gryffindor, but he seemed to pay the loosely falling strands little mind as he entered the food-adorned Great Hall, holding the door open for a trio of young girls hurrying into the hall.

"Thank you," muttered the youngest -- She could not have been older than twelve years of age -- and Godric grinned.

"And what makes this day any different from the thousands of previous days that have already become a thing of the past?" said a quiet voice, causing Gryffindor to turn around. His grin grew even greater upon catching sight of the man walking towards him. "Do you have something special in mind for this day, my friend?" asked Salazar Slytherin, his normally stoic expression giving way for a brief moment to a small smile of his own.

Salazar Slytherin was as opposite in personal appearance from Godric Gryffindor as it was possible to be -- or so it seemed that way. While Gryffindor's rough and wild appearance made him look as though he had just entered from an exerting duel or battle, Salazar's physical look was far more regal. Smooth, jet black hair framed his pale face, and the shoulder-length locks were often pulled back into a loose tie. His clothing, also, was chosen with more care than his companion's, whose rugged and wild look shone through here as well. Elegant silver embroideries were made in robes of black, the dark colour making Salazar's lightly coloured face appear even paler than it actually was. Hems were stitched just right, making the robes neither too long nor too short ... and Slytherin looked every bit the role of nobility.

"Nothing more than yesterday," replied Gryffindor, and his grin grew again, soon becoming a laugh as he embraced the other man like a brother. "You have returned already?" he asked. "Rowena told us you would not be back until the new year."

"That was what I had planned," said Salazar, returning his friend's embrace just as heartily -- though still with his usual dignity. Some habits were just too hard to break, after all. "But there was not much that remained to be accomplished, and I cannot say that I was not anxious to return." He looked around as he spoke, his dark eyes taking in the sights of every stone of the castle, every crevice and crack, every door and staircase. The school was solid, impenetrable ... immortal, even, for Salazar knew that destroying Hogwarts would never be possible. It was something that would exist, from now until the end of time, and spawn greatness through the ages -- Greatness that he would be remembered for.

Hogwarts, the school, the castle, the legends it would spawn, it was all a part of him. Together, he and three others had shared this dream, had sweat, bled, fought, and strived for this goal -- a result that, at times, had seemed futile. But in the end, the dream had been reached, the plan had succeeded. A world's future depended on the school, where wizards and witches would learn what was needed, to understand the powers and secrets of magic, in order to maintain civilization's ways.

It was his home, after all; for what else is a home but a place where one feels safe, protected, and in the company of all a man loves? And I will not see it destroyed, he thought to himself, as memories of his travels swirled through his mind's eye. The outside world was changing; he had seen it with his own eyes. There was talk of shifting powers, altering alliances, changes in long-held and age-old beliefs. Time was changing too much, as more and more, there were newer families encroaching upon the power held by those with prestigious pasts, those who had given everything -- blood, tears, and lives -- in the pursuit and the maintaining of their world. And those beliefs, those doctrines that had been upheld and defended for centuries, were being forgotten, pushed out of sight and cast aside like they did not matter in the slightest as wizards tried to change too quickly, and attempt to embrace a more liberal outlook. But they do not see what they are destroying in place of it, Salazar thought. They are too ignorant to realise the damage that forgetting such history could do; they do not understand that the changes are unnecessary.

For what is to be gained by compromising ourselves? Why mend what is not broken?

A feeling of anger coursed through the dark-haired wizard at the thoughts, making him want to do nothing more than lash out in frustration, and a small flash of red shone in Slytherin's dark eyes for the briefest of moments before it passed, disappearing so quickly that Godric was not sure if he had imagined it or not. He did not notice the slightly tense way his friend stood, the tightness in his jaw that existed for but a second in time before Salazar relaxed into his normal attitude. And since his friend did not speak of it, did not seem to be at all different, Gryffindor, believing that imagination had more than likely been at work, put the event from his mind.

"Did you miss this place too much, my friend?" the auburn-haired wizard asked, striding into the Great Hall with Slytherin walking along next to him. "Only a few months having past? I believe you are becoming more sentimental as the years go by." He laughed as the dark-haired wizard pierced him with a glare, though the slight smile tugging at his lips ruined the expression somewhat.

"Oh, and are you claiming that you do not feel the same, Godric?" Salazar replied as the two men sat down at the table, each reaching for a goblet of wine and savouring the sweet liquid as it coursed down their throats. The house-elves, brought to the school at its beginning by Helga Hufflepuff, never failed in the quality of Hogwarts's sustenance and always provided the best of the Wizarding World. "Is the strong and noble Gryffindor going to deny his love for this school, when he should know that two lovely witches and I have already witnessed events that reveal his emotions as being quite different?"

Gryffindor opened his mouth to respond, though whether he was going to deny his friend's words or not, he did not quite know. But as he looked around the Great Hall, his eyes falling on the numerous forms of children ranging from small young ones to witches and wizards that were nearly adults, he realised that he could not say that he did not feel the same. Taking in the sights of the stone walls, their powerful strength holding up the massive castle that was his school; the white clouds showing on the tall ceiling, foretelling another clear weather day in autumn's beginning; the feeling of the magic as it swept through the room, the corridors, and the very stone itself; Godric knew that he loved Hogwarts ... He loved it with every fibre of his being, and it had been a part of him since the beginning. There was simply no denying a truth as strong and clear as that.

"You know that I cannot disagree, Salazar," he said, his face holding a serious expression for the first time that morning, having replaced the playful and surprised smile he had worn earlier upon the sight of his returned friend. "Not a single one of us can honestly deny a love for this castle, for joy at the success of such a long and trying dream. I mean, years passed as this achievement remained nothing more than an idea, an imagining, a far off and nearly impossible hope. How can anyone truly argue and say that they do not feel love for the conclusion of such a goal? Seeing the children become more and more successful with every passing day, boys and girls fulfilling their own dreams and overcoming their own obstacles, watching them as they grow to become the future of the magical world, that is what success is, my friend. Knowing that I am a part of something that will continue forever, long after my own body is gone ... It is the greatest way to be remembered.

"But such is the reason you asked, isn't it, my friend?" Godric wondered, piercing Salazar with his stare while raising an eyebrow in question. The smile was slowly returning to his bearded face. "You already knew the answer, Salazar; you just wanted to hear me admit to it."

Slytherin laughed. "Of course I did," he said, taking another sip of wine as he returned his friend's gaze. "You are far too easy to read, Godric, I must say ... Neither Rowena, Helga, nor I have ever given you the implication that you were not.

"And yes, I knew. I knew because we have all felt -- still do feel -- the very same. Hogwarts will never be able to fall, and will be the one immortal thing in the Wizarding World ... You just expressed the sentiment with more spirit, Godric, though I'm sure Rowena would probably have had a greater amount of wisdom to add as well."

The laughter grew louder as Gryffindor joined in, until both men had the heads of several students turning in their direction to wonder at why their teachers were acting in such a manner. But the two men's merriment was, like the youthful and carefree qualities of earlier, quite infectious, and soon conversation in the Great Hall became overpowered by laughter and faces split into grins. Food was forgotten and texts and wands lay abandoned as the young wizards and witches -- the future of the Wizarding World -- acted like children.

But the laughter of both Gryffindor and Slytherin still carried the farthest and echoed the loudest. The noble Salazar and rugged Godric had abandoned their professional personas for a moment, though not doing so for the first time. Many mornings had passed in just such a manner for them both, and this early October day would just be another one to add to a store of memories from the past.

Such was the way their friendship worked; they were as different as it was possible for two men to be, and had proven such personalities time and time again, but something kept either Salazar or Godric from disliking the other. Rather, the opposite seemed to be truer, in that their differences added a power, a strength, to their friendship that was not seen in many other cases, no matter the relationship. They, whose clashing personalities should have made them bitter enemies, were not so. Rather, the personalities of both Slytherin and Gryffindor had instead worked the other way.

Differences had turned the two men into nearly brothers.

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Author's Note: All right, that's the end of this chapter. The third chapter is still in the planning and outlining stages, but if the inspiration holds, I hope to have it written and posted without too long of a wait. In the next part, the focus will be on the other two Founders, with a bit more of Helga's thoughts on her (prophetic?) dream and Rowena's take on it.


Thanks so much for reading; I hope you enjoyed it, and please, let me know your thoughts.

~Megan