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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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"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."

"Fear is part of everyone. Letting it control you is weak."

She had been startled by his actions, but tried not to let it show.

"I would prefer not to fight, but if the need arises, I will protect myself and those I care for to the best of my abilities."

"It is the duty of those who are strong to look after the weak," Godric says simply. "I have no interest in picking fights--but when it comes to protecting our children and our kind, my sword is at the ready."

"I did not mean to imply that you did, I simply believe there is a better way to protect our kind than through force. It does not set a good example to the children you wish to protect."

"Children..." Salazar brushes his moustache.

"Children should be taught early in life how to protect themselves by any means necessary. Including murder."

He turns his head a little. "One must always be one step ahead of one's enemies." He turns back and makes a gesture of apology to Gryffindor.

"Which is precisely why I've never found a use for a sword. The wand is much quicker."

"Indeed?" A rather cold voice.

"I don't believe that for a moment," Godric says quietly. "Murder is never justified. Self-defense is another issue, but by Merlin's beard, I will encourage no murder among the young." Beat. "Or old enough to know better."

Helga is horrified with the tone the conversation has taken. She agrees with Godric, but in such circumstances she doesn't believe admitting to this will help. It could ultimately make the situation worse.

"We should not talk of such things. It does not make for pleasant conversation."

Salazar waves them all off impatiently; he's heard this argument many times and not once has he heard a resolution to it.

"Fine. So what pleasant conversation shall we have? We're in a foreign place; we've decided that much have we not? Does this place have lodging, food, drink? How does one leave this place?"

"One would assume that to leave, we would have to go back though the door we entered. As for the rest, perhaps we should look for a server?"

Godric looks around. "Many others have food and drink." He stands, puzzled, watching people come and go to the front bar. "It would appear . . . you simply . . . ask."

Helga glances around the room.

"Perhaps it is simply that we cannot see the servers. House elfs have that kind of power do they not? But it is a curious place and no mistake. And the owner must be a very talented witch or wizard. The enchantment on that window is quite stunning work..." she gestures to the observation window.

Salazar huffs into his beard and gazes around. He hears someone ask the bar politely for food. It appears.

He stands, rubbing his bottom lip thoughtfully. He moves to the bar and touches it lightly. Someone next to him orders something other than food, and this order appears as well.

"A goblet." A pewter goblet appears. Salazar holds it up to the light.

Rowena starts towards the bar herself, but stops as she sees a rat scurry along the floor.

A rat carrying a serving tray, that heads towards another table, where a young man takes the order with no qualms.

"Interesting system," Godric remarks, his gaze following Rowena's.

Another rat approaches them, chitting inquisitively. "I--" He glances around the table, and at their nods he says, "We should each like a pint of ale and perhaps some food--whatever the kitchen is serving that is hot and filling?"

The rat squeaks in a way that sounds highly like "right away!" and scampers off.

"Very interesting indeed," Godric murmurs.

"Interesting is certainly one way of putting it..." Helga mummbles she watches the rat dissapear.

The rat returns with the drinks and four large bowls of cock-a-leekie soup the bar was serving earlier.

"What kind of establishment is this that has rats serving?"

"Uncivilized." Still staring at the goblet, he murmurs something in Parseltongue.

Tossing the goblet back on the bar, Salazar looks to the wall where he came in. The door is in fact there.

"I have other places to be at the moment. We will see eachother again, I'm sure." With a slight movement of his head that could be interpreted as a nod, he moves to the door and out the other side.

"As ill mannered as his leavetaking was, Master Slytherin does have a point. We should return to the market fairly soon, else our families think something wrong."

"As soon as I have finished this soup," Godric decides, as it smells delicious.

Helga looks at the soup. It does indeed smell and look delicious but she can't bring herself to eat something that was delivered by a rat. She gathers her parcels.

"I think I should be leaving. Sir Gryffindor, Mistress Ravenclaw, it was an honour to meet you."

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hogwartsbadger.livejournal.com - 2005-09-01 03:57 (UTC) - Expand

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