Unleashing the Serpent

Serpent Uncoiled

The fire danced like a mocking demon, casting ominous shadows on the walls. An old man sat pensively in his chair, the room's lone occupant. Long past his time of youth, his hair had begun to turn silver amid the black, and he had a puzzled visage - a man who couldn't make sense of life. The scent of whiskey permeated from his every breath, and his mouth was cast in a frown so serious a battalion of faeries could never change its shape.

He shuffled his robes again, never taking his gaze from the fire. How long had it been? Eighteen years since he set out on this venture? The years hardly seemed to matter now. For however long, he and his colleagues had defended this castle against trolls, goblins, and muggles. He should have seen that the true threat came from within.

A knock at the door woke him from the trance; he hurled a whiskey bottle at the clamor.

"Go away," he barked, "I won't speak to him! I should've killed him when I had the chance! He's a liar! A LIAR! And I will not give him the luxury of pleading his case!"

Slowly the door opened, displacing shards of broken glass. A woman stepped in. Her dark hair cascaded down her shoulders and her grey eyes fell instantly on the man, filled with pity.

"Godric," she called, her normally strong voice now tentative and tremulous, "I know this hasn't been easy - "

His deafening laugh immediately silenced her voice.

"Hasn't been easy! Rowena, Helga's dead! And that...that...fiend is the cause of it!"

Rowena had no retort. She paused for a moment, and spied what lay next to his chair. She picked up the half-empty whiskey bottle, and suddenly a deep anger filled her eyes.

"And this," she yelled, launching the bottle into the fire, "this is helping you?"

The fire roared as it consumed the toxic beverage, bursting from its natural state. The woman cried words of an ancient tongue and the fire ceased, leaving them in total darkness.

Nearly in tears, she whispered, "Lumos."

The tip of her wand began to glow with white light, illuminating Godric's face. He stared at the fireplace, as if trying to remember the existence of warmth. He looked up at Rowena, green eyes fighting the wells behind them.

"What would you have me do?" he said.

She fought to regain her composure. Seeing the mighty Godric Gryffindor reduced to this broke her heart. She held her wand in silence.

"I would have you talk to him, Godric."

"I've told you a thousand times. I will not - I cannot - speak to Helga's murderer."

"He's your friend -"

"He was my friend," Godric roared, his anger resurfacing, "and then he killed her!"

Rowena stood there, shaken by his inconsolable rage. Terror swept over her stoic face. Her knees trembled and sent her toppling to the ground, bashing her head on the chair's arm in the process.

A look of alarm fell upon Godric. He reached down and laid her in the chair, his visage stained with compassion. Gray eyes met green and locked for what seemed an eternity.

"Godric...if you won't do it for yourself, then do it for me," she said, crimson fluid streaming down her face.

"I should heal this," he said, raising his wand and attempting to lower it. Her hand met it in mid-air.

"Don't. In dealing with pain on the outside, we become better equipped within."

He frowned. "This is no time for aphorisms, Rowena."

"There is always time. Wit beyond measure is -"

"Will you stop saying that? The first time you thought of it, it was clever. Now it's just getting old."

She smiled. "That's appropriate, so are we."

The corners of his mouth began to turn upwards. "You always did have a way with words."

"And you always had a way with getting yourself killed."

This started an uneasy laughter, not because what she said was particularly funny, but because they had to laugh. When the past is bleak and the future looks worse, you have to make the present seem livable, if only for a moment.

"Talk to him," she pleaded, "it's for my good as well as yours."

Godric hesitated; he didn't know what to say. If he talked to him, he would be facing the darkness that consumed his former friend. If he didn't, then he wouldn't know if there was even an ounce of humanity left in him. It was easy to look at a monster. It was painful to look at the friend who had become one.

He turned to Rowena. "What will we tell the students?"

"The truth," she replied.

Godric shook his head. The truth wasn't good enough. She was right - he had to have answers. He tore a piece of his robe to bandage her wound.

"I'll be back," he said, and started down the hallway, torches mocking him as he went.

When he finally came upon a staircase, it was not positioned for his descent. He cursed the day (during which he was terribly inebriated) that he thought it would be funny to trick students by making the staircases move.

When the staircase finally positioned itself, he descended to a small room with naught but a gargoyle for adornment. In one swift motion, the gargoyle faced the man.

"Password?" it growled.

"Open the wall or I'll blast you into pieces so small, the dust will be enormous in comparison!"

Looking up at him, the creature decreed, "That'll work."

The wall began to split along the middle, revealing a passage later to be closed off forever - the entrance to the Hogwarts dungeons.

"Lumos," he cried.

The same light that had enveloped Rowena's wand now emanated from his. He took a deep breath, and descended the thankfully motionless stair.

When he reached the stair's end, he noticed a door of pure iron, decorated with such darling trinkets as dragon's teeth, spikes, and a crystallized human skull. He placed his fingers in the mouth and sockets of the skull, turning it to the right. The door sprang open, revealing a man a few years younger than Godric. He would have looked quite dashing were it not for the chains that suspended him on the wall. He paused to see his visitor and smiled.

"Why, Godric Gryffindor, I was worried you would never arrive."

Clenching his fists, Godric cried, "I'm not here for idle chatter, Salazar, I want to know why you did it."

He masked his face in confusion.

"What have I done, Godric? If you haven't noticed, I haven't been in a position to do much of anything the past few days. Or can't you see the chains?"

Godric's eyes narrowed. He clenched his fists so tight they were on the verge of drawing blood. When he finally could take it no more he threw a murderous glance at Salazar.

"You know of what I speak Slytherin! Out with it!"

Salazar's grin grew broader, "Unchain me and I'll tell you."

The sound of metal scraping wood filled the air as Godric drew his sword. He jabbed it into the air, right next to Salazar's throat. The smile failed to fade from Salazar's face, as he felt its metal tip approach his neck.

"Why are you doing this, Godric? You've saved my life time after time," he mused, "all you had to do was decide not to save me once, and this wouldn't have happened. It's as much your fault as mine."

The blade reached close enough to draw a small line of blood from his neck. Godric had to use every ounce of self control he had to keep from killing him outright.

Salazar's brow furrowed in anger. "Do you want to know why I killed Helga or not?"

Sheathing his sword, Godric managed through gritted teeth, "If you please, sir."

"She was holding us back, my friend, blocking the path to true knowledge. For all her sanctimonious sermons, she was only scared. She was always terribly afraid of what lurked beyond our realm... But you," he said, admiration flowing from his words, "you're not afraid of anything, are you? I've seen you stand up to banshees, vampires, and dragons without so much as a trembling knee. You're the brave one, Godric, you always have been. That's why I was so surprised that you rejected my proposal."

'"Is that what this is about, Salazar? An idiotic study you proposed?"

"It was far from idiotic," he spat, "Helga stood against me at every angle. She said she was appealing to a 'higher power' but she was just afraid of me, of what I could become - of what we could become!"

"That was dark magic, Salazar! And I -"

"Dark magic, light magic, what's the difference? We go around drawing lines that aren't there. We live in a world dominated by labels, where the authorities say what spells we can and can't use. Damn them! I wanted to explore the possibilities of this power, but Helga would have none of it. She was the puppet of the Ministry, I simply cut the strings."

The horror of his friend's words was almost too much to bear. His mouth itched for the Cruciatus curse, his hands started for his sword, and then stopped. Godric Gryffindor was no murderer, and certainly not one to torture his friend, but agony cannot go unpunished.

"You monster," he shrieked, "we trusted you! I trusted you! And in return you kill Helga because she was trying to protect us? Damn you, Salazar! Damn you to hell!"

"This world is hell, Godric. It's a torture chamber that keeps us from achieving our full potential!"

All of a sudden Salazar's expression changed so drastically, even the mighty Gryffindor was caught off guard. Fervor consumed his eyes, a hunger Godric had not seen since he first shared the idea of building a university with his friend.

"Join me," he said, "join me, Godric, and we can be more than wizards. We can be gods! We can explore the reaches of the universe and restructure it as we see fit! Come with me, Godric, please!"

"You're...you're mad."

He sighed, "I was afraid this might happen...Goodbye, Godric."

The chains around Salazar fell, dropping him to the ground. He stood up and faced Godric.

"But, how? Those chains were iron, they repel - "

"Magic? Godric, you closed-minded fool," he laughed, "you checked me all over for magical trinkets, even magic-proofed my cell, but never thought I would use a lock pick."

"Incendia Flumen," Godric cried, a thick jet of fire erupting from his wand. Salazar jumped aside, grabbing something from the ground.

Godric raised his wand again, but a rock struck it, and it was flung from his hand. A charging Salazar decked him straight in the face and knocked him over. Only now did Godric see the instrument Salazar had retrieved was a dagger.

"Without magic, we are prone to even the smallest of weapon, Godric. That's what separates me from the rest of you - I'm smarter. Rowena, for all her so called wisdom has nothing on me. And you, dear friend, are about to witness a soldier's wrath!"

Godric drew his sword in time to parry the blow. He rose to his full height, poised for battle. His eyes scanned the room for his lost wand, but could find no trace of it.

Salazar charged at Godric, and sword met dagger once more. This time, Godric struck with such force that the dagger flew out of Salazar's hand. He struck Salazar with the side of his blade and the unarmed man sprawled to the floor, giving Godric the opportunity to place his sword beneath Salazar's chin.

"Go ahead Godric. Kill me. Throw aside the hypocrisy of it all and kill your friend!"

He knew he should, but he was no murderer. Maybe Salazar could kill a friend, but Godric Gryffindor would never fall to that level. The clash of metal against stone resounded through the room as the Sword of Gryffindor hit the ground.

"Fool," spat Salazar.

He kicked Godric directly below the belt, causing him to slump to the floor in pain - long enough for Salazar to grab his dagger. In one fell motion, he brought his weapon to the ground. Godric rolled out of the way, catching the dagger. Without a second thought, he used the knife to pin Salazar's hand to the wall.

A cry of intense pain filled the air as blood flowed from the serpent's palm. He started at Godric, as if to bite him, and his cries turned to laughter.

"Why are you laughing, Salazar? You're beaten."

"Because you're about to die," he shrieked, consumed in twisted hilarity.

Godric looked down at his hand. A small pool of blood began to form just between his thumb and index finger. The red dot shifted in and out of focus, his head emptied of thoughts, and he collapsed to the ground. Both men lay on the floor, no longer able to awaken. The only remaining sign of life was the shrill echo of Slytherin's cackle.