The beginning: companionship. Peace. Joy. Accomplishment.
"Godric..."
"Yes, Salazar?"
"I've been thinking."
"Dangerous idea."
"Ha ha. I think we should start a school."
"Salazar, my friend... you couldn't be more right."
New ideas, new plans. New actions - new paths.
"So then it's agreed: we choose the students together. I don't want to waste my time or any of yours teaching imbeciles."
"Definitely. Rowena's always liked picking her way through young ones, anyway."
"Godric, behave."
"I am behaving, Rowena! I haven't teased you or your protege-slash-lover tonight, have I?"
"That is because Helga will return your teasing with so much kindness that she burns the hair off your head."
Laughter.
"Nevertheless. We choose together. We agree, or the student will not be taught."
"Of course, Salazar. You couldn't be more right. We choose them together."
More ideas, more plans. A long way down the path; so far down, it's hard to see the beginning of it any more.
"So many students, Salazar."
"Yes."
"So many. Too many, maybe."
"I agree, Godric. The criteria are not high enough."
"Perhaps. I think I have another solution."
"...."
"Houses? Four houses? With each filled with only the students we want..."
"Yes. Competition should be healthy for them, to boot; and we can finally choose our own without compromise."
"I don't know, Godric."
"Why not? It's a good idea."
"I don't know. I think this is a compromise."
"Compromise! I've already asked Rowena; she's in. Helga will do whatever Rowena does."
"...."
"Just agree with me, Salazar. It's for the good of the school; for the good of our students, and us as well."
"...I suppose you're right, Godric. Houses it is."
So many years gone by. So many changes; decisions; paths; plans. The beginning is lost to history, the end can only be guessed. Sometimes, new plans must be made.
"Salazar, you cannot do this!"
"I do what I must, Godric. You have your own students. I have mine."
"To reject them because of this? Because they are not pureblood?"
"Yes."
"...."
"I will not waste my time."
"Salazar... you didn't used to think this way."
"Yes, I did. So did you. You have changed."
"How can you do this?"
"Because there are too many disappointments."
"...I suppose I understand. Do what you must, Salazar. You always do. Maybe you're right, after all."
So many decades gone by. Bleeding out, in years, like wine from a broken bottle, like salt from a broken jar. In the years comes pain, distrust, disappointment. Failures in the houses; more reasons to distrust.
Arguments over students.
Arguments over curriculum.
Arguments over houses - Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff falling behind, into their own separate issues; Slytherin and Gryffindor changing, turning, from deep and true friends into their polar opposite: bitter, bitter enemies.
And at last, the time comes to leave.
"Salazar. Salazar! Don't do this! I'm warning you - do not DO this!"
There is no answer. There are no more words. How can there be anymore?
"Salazar!"
"I have left a present for my true heir."
"...you're mad."
"Am I, Godric? You, Rowena, Helga; you have all banded against me. You accept anyone, anything that comes to you; you forget that we created this school in order to help those who DESERVED it, not just those in need! Those in need are NOT important!"
"Don't. Do. This." Anger. Last lingering friendship; fresh blooming hatred. "We are FOUR. Our houses are FOUR. You CANNOT LEAVE!"
"My heir will come some day. And when he does, he will use the gift I have left to cleanse this school and make it what it SHOULD be. When he comes, Godric, everything will be made right again. The way we first intended. The way you agreed when we first dreamed. She will take things back to their beginnings."
"Step out that door, Salazar, and you leave me no choice!"
"I go back to my fens. And when I am there, I will teach only those who deserve. You can keep this pitiful, driveling school catering to those who need."
"Salazar. Don't."
"Goodbye, Godric."
"SALAZAR!"
There is an exchange of power. Too much power. Then, it is too late.
"...Salazar. The blood...
"...you should not have tried to leave."
Two centuries have gone by. All pathways are now over-trod, confused, twisting and parallel and knotted; Hogwarts is accepted, Helga is dead, Rowena is dying. Godric, too, is very ill. All believe that Salazar has retired to his home, and is hiding, and cannot be found; all but one, the one who kept him from going there.
"Your house has prospered, Salazar." A long look at Salazar's portrait, painted when they were young, so young, arms about each other's shoulders, full of faith and hope and plans for the future. "You would be pleased. They reject halfbloods at every turn. But mine accepts them; mine accepts anyone. Our houses... have fallen onto separate roads.
"You were right. You were right. The houses were a stupid idea. They drive each other apart. They forget the good to be found in each other, only seeing the good in themselves. You were right, Salazar.
"Your heir has yet to come.
"...I wish I had gone with you. Salazar....
"I'm sorry. You were right."