Title: These Stone Walls

Author: RavenEcho

Disclaimer: Oh yes, I own the entire Harry Potter world: I'm rich, I'm fabulous, and I am lying through my fucking teeth! Not mine, no matter how much I try to convince you.

Summary: The Founders Four. Nothing more than a memory. A legend. A whisper, a list of facts written in a textbook. Now their story is finally told. R/R please.

Chapter 4: Salazar

******

Salazar Slytherin followed his parents through the crowd quietly, remembering to only speak when spoken to, as instructed. It didn't matter anyway, really. None of the people at this particular party would have any interest in him at all. No, they were all crisp and fancy dress robes and fine wines in crystal goblets and gossip about pure blood lines and disobedient staff. None of them had any regard whatsoever for a slender seven year old boy led by his rich parents. Which was fine by Salazar; it was easier to catch phrases in all the surrounding conversations when he didn't have some blundering adult stumbling through awkward patronizations towering over him.

Salazar had no difficulties obeying his orders for most of the night. The parties his parents went to only went on for so long; they liked to return to the manor at a respectable hour so as to have a good reputation with the neighbors. His parents were asking the host's servants to retrieve their cloaks when it happened. One young witch presented his father with his rich velvety green cloak, and helped him wrap it around his shoulders and fasten the silver buttons in a slyly seductive manner. But the man's play was soon interrupted by a screech from his tipsy wife.

Salazar, naïve wizard though he still was, quickly saw the catastrophe at hand. The lad presenting Lady Slytherin with her silky green cloak had raised his hand to help her with the garment. In doing so, the sleeve of his robe had fallen slightly and exposed a twisted ugly scar on his wrist. Salazar's sharp eyes could make it out before the boy made a quick move to cover it; it was a brand of the letter 'M.'

Lord Slytherin noticed the same thing and let out a poisonous hiss, cursing, "Mudblood, take your hands away from my wife," and slowly drawing out his wand.

The host rushed forward, also drawing his wand. This was a problem that must be dealt with—Salazar, even at his age, knew that no respectable wizard could knowingly keep any sort of company with a filthy Mudblood without being forced to pay the price. Lord Slytherin spat at the lad's trembling feet, grasped his son's shoulder, and wheeled him away from the scene. Salazar heard the boy's scream and his mother's cold laughter as the host said the last words the boy would ever hear.

"Avada Kedavra."

Salazar reeled mentally, but he held his tongue until his father had apparated them back to the manor. Once he was home, in the well-known walls of the luxurious manor, he couldn't hold himself back any longer.

"Father, why?" he demanded. "He was just a boy, only a few years older than I! His foul birth is no fault of his own!"

Lord Slytherin turned a cold eye upon his son and then, suddenly, cuffed him on the chin, hard enough to knock him to the floor. "Son, if you ever sympathize with those foul beings, ever, you will get absolutely nowhere in life."

And Salazar remembered. He remembered, and he would never pity a filthy Mudblood again.

!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note: Yeah, I know, I suck at life. But if I still have any readers at all out there, here it is! Salazar! Yay! I know it's short, but still, it's something. I know it's no excuse, but since I last updated, I have passed all my classes and exams, worked more than any 19-year-old should, gone to three other countries, learned some Italian, and done lots of thinking and dreaming for this story. I make no promises for the next update, but it should be rather sooner than this one. Review please!