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Salazar Slytherin pops into Diagon Alley from just outside his Father's worn and broken castle. His Madaeze would be expecting a gift.
Salazar looks around at the various vendors until one in particular catches his eye. It is a rather rustic and middle eastern looking set-up, a tented stall with a door. On the door is the oddest design Salazar had ever seen.

He opens the door and enters. Looking around, he notes that this place looks similiar to an inn, so he tries to back out before he could be seen.

[ooc: Amendment: The Founders will each have a single new post for the other patrons to bug them in, okay? Please don't reply to this, say thank ya.]

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Salazar steps off a little and shakes his head, appraising the other two. He shrugs Helga off, not looking at her.

"Never do it again." He runs a hand over his locket.

"I entered through a tent as well. Perhaps you were in Diagon Alley?"

"As did I. Though whoever set up said tent should post a sign for their portal, else others would make the same misjudgement."

"I think," Godric says dryly, "that not having the sign was intentional."

His hand has relaxed on his sword somewhat, but he is still watching the other patrons of the pub closely.

"Why would they not wish to inform us of our location?" she asks with a frown.

"It's rather rude to send a person somewhere without informing them first."

Salazar backs off a few steps more, perturbed that he wasn't being included in their conversation. He inspects his finely manicured nails.

"Probably some non-magical being toying with the idea that he is a great wizard. Or perhaps a child trying a new spell."

"Perhaps. Though how either of those would manage to set such a spell without being caught is hard to believe."

She looks around the room again. "Should we move to a table, or return to the market? The longer we stand here, the more likely we would be caught in another collision."

"We are at an inn, there is food," Godric gestures to a table, "perhaps we should sit and eat.

"And perhaps try to figure out what sort of spell brought us here. The others don't seem particularly disturbed."

"Perhaps the others are used to being transported without prior warning..."

She nods, but doesn't go to the table.

"Might I know who I am to be dining with first?"

Salazar is leaning against a chair at the table Godric is motioning too, but he also does not sit at it.

"Yes. Let's have some courtesy and introduce ourselves. Perhaps you all have heard of the long lineage of Slytherin? I am the last of the Sons of Slytherin." He may not have much to his name, but he does have that.

"Indeed?" At his nod, she continues. "In which case I have heard of you from my brother, Fearn Ravenclaw. Though I would imagine he would say little to anyone of his sister Rowena."

At this Godric bows. "He has, and all impressive.

"If you are the Son of Slytherin called Salazar then I know your reputation as well.

"I'm Godric Gryffindor." He looks expectantly at the blonde woman for her name.

She blinks several times, her cheeks growing red again, and she almost drops her parcels once more.

"But of course I've heard of you. All three of you. You are spoken of very highly by those who know you.

I'm... I'm Helga Hufflepuff. It's an honour to meet you."

Salazar nods approvingly at Godric Gryffindor.

"Yes. I am called Salazar. I of course have heard of your fine house. Pure bloods all. Very fine."

He acknowledges Rowena with a slight incline of his head. "Yes. Your brother. He's taken a liking to some of the young people that congregate in my castle, hasn't he?"

"Most likely, though I could not say for certain. His interests and mine... are decidedly different."

Godric pulls out chairs for the ladies and waits for them to sit. "Young people congregating?" he asks Salazar. "That's good. These are dangerous times."

Helga sits, and gives Godric a smile of thanks.

"Indeed. As I'm sure you've heard, Wendelin Wimple has been just been tried for the third time in as many months."

Salazar sits and folds his arms in front of his chest, frowing. "Wendelin is foolish. She should not be encouraging that type of behavior."

He looks around cautiously.

"I let them use my castle for their pathetic little meetings because I wish for my family to survive past their forties, unlike my uncles. Out in the open, away from the spells I've cast, they are in great danger from those who would drive them into permanent hiding."

"That such things are happening, and with greater frequency, does give rise to fear and panic." Stated plainly as she takes the seat, a nod of thanks to Gryffindor.

"But isolation can not be the answer. If anything, it would make matters worse - lack of communication, knowledge unshared, lost - we would wind up destroying our heritage as surely as any trial ever would."

"We have more and swifter ways to communicate than the others do," Godric says. "Surely if there is new knowledge to be shared we can find a way to do it."

"You must admit Mistress Ravenclaw, the recent persecution we have suffered is not an ideal atmosphere for study," she says gently.

"And though I'm loathed to say it, I believe the situation will only worsen."

Slytherin snorts irritably.

"Of course it will. It is only a matter of time until those that can not bend great power to their will will rise up and quelch our abilities."

"True, that we have the skills, the abilities. But those willing to use them in the face of such happenings..."

She sighs. "The vendors in Diagon Alley become fewer each trip I make."

"There are more than a few of us willing to defend our kind, should the need arise," Godric says, and his hand rests on the gold-and-ruby pommel of his sword. "But there must be a way to prevent the need from arising. I refuse to controlled by fear."

She nods. "I sincerely hope that there is a way to prevent it. Violence is never an answer." Her cheeks turn red and she looks away from Godric.

"Violence is most certainly the answer in some instances!" Salazar clenches his fists on the table, leaning forward toward the center of the table. His voice comes low and in hisses.

"My uncles fought and died to perserve our status. Never will I just lay down and take anything! I WILL FIGHT!" He slams his left fist down finitely.

Sitting back, he nods -and almost smiles- to Godric. "Fear is for the weak."