Aintzane: Lion's Vigil

Aintzane: Lion's Vigil
by Persephone

It was too late before I set out; it would have been too late even had I arrived while he was still breathing. Still, I had to try. We were friends, once.

That seems a very long time ago right now.

I came as quickly as I could when the spell Salazar had used to hide from the rest of us failed. I knew then that he must be dying, or at the least in great danger of it; he never would have forgiven us. So I made my best speed... and arrived to walk freely through garden and door that should have been enchanted against all passers.

No one came to halt me. I don't understand that -- he married, had children, I know. He should have grandchildren by now. Where is everyone?

Now I lean against the door and bury my head against my arm. I am accounted brave, but the sight in the deathroom makes my blood freeze -- and yet I know better. Salazar's body lies cold on the bed and toads sit here and there -- at his throat, his hands, one hip and the other ankle. One more perches on his forehead; its tongue snatches a fly from just above his eyelid. Some would call them foul; the placement smacks of rites I have no great pride in knowing -- but Salazar loved them, and if no one else will guard his body it seems at least his pets sit vigil.

He would not have wanted me here. Nor can I blame him. He felt we threw him aside, Helga and Rowena and I, and sadly enough it was true -- though whatever he may have thought or the rumors whispered, there was no anger on our side. It was a very cold-blooded decision: we found that his attitude toward the children of Muggles was overall detrimental to Hogwarts School, and on weighing priorities we concluded that the well-being of the students for whom we'd begun the school was more important than being fair to an old friend who had contributed as much as any of us... so we asked him to go.

He went, and as he left he cursed us.

The irony, of course, is that ours was precisely the type of decision for which Salazar was notorious... and very likely his penchant for such was a great deal of the reason he found himself with few friends, and us also those who would put principle over person. Including him.

We still would have gladly known him, still would have come to his aid if we'd been aware he wasn't well. He knew that, surely -- the secrecy he wove about himself was because he didn't wish to see us, not because he could have thought we wished him ill... I hope.

He should not have died with only toads for company.

Perhaps he would not want me here, but I owe him this much at least. I step forward into the room -- the toad sitting in the hollow of his throat turns and stares at me, silent while the others croak about their dinner -- and kneel to join them in keeping vigil.

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Related stories: "Cuckoo, Cuckold" and "Aintzane: Toad of Glory, Slytherin's Heir".