"On Choosing Teachers," for featherjournals
Title: On Choosing Teachers
Gift for: featherjournals
Author: salazar_kat
Pairings: Unrequited Salazar/Rowena, Unrequited Salazar/Helena
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mention of Old Magic
Genres: angst, romance
Author's Notes: Thanks to "S" for the beta.
Summary: Two new teachers are to be on staff, and Salazar shows his disgust at the choices his colleagues, and indeed Rowena's daughter, make. It drives him to....you'll see.
Salazar clutched a silvery piece of ribbon in his hand. Like any sensible wizard, he kept his hair back, held by a length of material. It was just one thing that kept on unfurling. He felt alone, abandoned, and he thought back to yesterday which had been fine until the time came to hire two new teachers.
Four people could build a school but not staff it. And so they sat in a wood panelled room in Hogwarts castle, grouped around what would become the staff room fireplace. Salazar stared into the flames as they discussed possible teachers. They flickered and danced and gave him ideas for a far flung future, when people would listen to sense.
As for the teachers, Helga taught Nature's Lore. Godric taught Battle Lore. Rowena taught Sorcery, which was Magical Theory and Charms. Wytche Craft and Applied Spells would fall to Helena. Augury meant Divination and Astronomy, and were wide open. Healing was Salazar's areas of expertise. He used potions and the power of thought to influence the mind.
Godric again asked for the posts to be given to Helena's pursuer, William Fletcher. Salazar had snorted in disgust and derision, “The man's a Muggle, or a Muggleborn, at best. They're dangerous. Thalia Prewett was mobbed by those hateful Muggles but two weeks ago, barely escaped because they had her wand. We really need to expose our students to dangerous types like them, or related to them.” Salazar's sarcasm couldn't be more obvious.
He agreed with Rowena and Helga on hiring Rowena's daughter, Helena. A bright girl, a little overly spirited but she'd tone down well in time. But Godric, the blustering foolish man with false ideas of tolerance, also wanted to hire her pursuer. Correcting himself, Salazar thought one of her pursuers, for Helena was a lady and of means, and beautiful and forbidding. Salazar himself wished he could take her for his own at times. But Helena was twenty-two and Salazar had now reached his fifty-seventh year, so he kept his silence. Helena was a magical talent, clever and smart as her mother, but she had a taint... at least Rowena had been wise in her choice of husband, if it couldn't have been Salazar himself.
“It might be good to have a Muggle-born teach those two,” Rowena said reasonably, smoothing back her long, greying dark brown hair. “It's about you not wanting him because he's the suitor of my daughter.” Rowena's dark eyes and her daughter's were the same eye shape and hue. He loved the eternally haughty glance of Helena. Rowena's poise was passed down and read in Helena's lofty posture. He hankered after Rowena, but the injustice of impurity in her daughter's choices still rankled him... just rubbed his fur the wrong way.
“You're agreeing to her marrying a person of such little distinction?” Salazar asked icily, unable to hold it in any longer. “And it's on principle, a basic law.” His posture was rigid.
“Better William than the Baron. Utter nuisance, he is,” Helga chortled, rosy-faced in amusement, her words relieving the tension. Rowena nodded and chuckled but soon nodded gravely, and curled her hair around her fist and let it fall in a c-shape by her white cheeks.
“Easier for all the Kings of Wessex to get along with the Normans,” Rowena spoke loftily. “And much better than having Salazar for an in-law.”
Salazar turned a pasty white. “I said it was on principle, a basic law. I'd love to marry Helena, yes, but not if she turns out to be so forgiving that she attracts dirty-veined types! Types that you want to allow to teach here - how wise do you think it is to teach a Mudblood Dark Arts leave alone allow them to teach others? Next you'll be allowing them all kinds of access, and their Muggle kin.” He shook his light-brown haired head and stared at the others through pale grey eyes.
“Listen, listen to yourself!” Godric put in emphatically from his chair, hitting his leg with his freckled hand for emphasis. “You sound like the worst miser, or a serf fleeing before a non-existent plague!” Godric's chest was heaving with the strain of what Salazar considered an overemotional outburst. It was a bit eloquent, but for what use? The truth was...
“This is a real disease, like the Red Death, Pox, and it will consume us all if we don't look to keep the branches cleared and tree properly watered!” Salazar was vehement. Godric turned away, shaking his flame-hued head, sighing. Salazar thought that Godric Gryffindor, nearly always a friend, had read Salazar's eyes and accused him of being overemotional in turn. He loathed him for this. He stared into the fire for a moment, then glared at the redhead that was Godric.
Again it was Helga who cut to the quick, waving a hand between the two friends cheerily and saying:
“We have to decide on two teachers. We don't have that many candidates. I vote for Helena to teach Wytche Craft. We can all agree on that. I think the Baron should take Astronomy. I vote for William to teach Augury. He's a natural. Yes, Salazar, a natural. I taught him myself when we taught by house alone. And he's very experienced for twenty-two.” Helga raised her hand into the air. “Any others?” she called.
Godric raised his hand immediately, almost hitting Helga in the nose with his hand as it shot up beside her. Rowena lifted her hand into the air, staring insolently at Salazar.
Why couldn't she look at him with anything but disdain? But he wouldn't cave so easily. “Switch the two. The Baron take Augury, this 'William' Muggle Astronomy.” It would be a small victory.
“No,” said Godric maddeningly. “William has talent at Augury.” Helga nodded her rosy-faced head. Rowena waited. Salazar clenched the seat of his chair with his hands. He looked into her eyes and saw her rejection, which he knew would likely come out of petty personal reasons.
“You would choose William Fletcher? Over me?” It was Salazar's gasp.
“Beside you, with you.” Helga raised her eyebrows high on her forehead. “Oh come on, Salazar, you can play along.”
“Play along!” echoed Godric. “Your principles be damned, these are dark times for Wizardkind and you make them worse by not accepting all as one.”
“You don't! You prefer nobility, chivalrous knights! You neglect the magic among the poor. Magic is done with wand and cauldron. magical blood, magical power, learning and skill. That should be the judge, the power of true magic alone! ” Salazar clenched his hands into fists. “Pureblood serfs are better than Muggle lords, the opposite of common thought! That is uncommon thought. That should win!” The heat of debate caused Salazar's cheeks to redden.
“If you don't like it you don't have to teach here,” growled Godric, thumping his freckly hand into his large fist. “You think we can teach here eternally anyway? We have to let go of control at some point. And we don't live forever. You can go and be sure it is done in your way as well. I've thought it out.” Godric ripped the hat off his head, and made his last ditch attempt to ensnare his friend Slytherin.
“We'll put the personal preferences of each into the hat, as if it had brains, a charm I know you can perform, Salazar. You know the magic...”
**
Salazar had sat in his room awake the entire night. He decided to visit his serpent, if Parseltongue was the only language he could be understood in.
Now Salazar stood in a dripping wet stone chamber with his newly hatched Basilisk. He had thought he would never leave it behind. He knew further enchantments. No one but a Parselmouth and one of Slytherin blood would be able to open the chamber and purge the school of everyone not of true magic. He hated most of all to see the look on Rowena's face as he passed. He thought of Rowena and thought of his dead wife who had so resembled Rowena, and Helena, all three being Abbotts. He had two sons, both grown and in other parts, one in Leicester, one in Dublin.
Salazar's boys had married real witches, and they had children who would shortly be going to Hogwarts. He wanted to remain to teach them, but he thought of the compromise he had made with the Hat, and knew he must start another project. He had relatives on the continent... they could build another castle, not so grand, but better suited to the student's needs. He had a name in mind, if his German and Romanian cousins could help - they were sensible witches and wizards - then perhaps a “Durmstrang” could be built.
Gift for: featherjournals
Author: salazar_kat
Pairings: Unrequited Salazar/Rowena, Unrequited Salazar/Helena
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mention of Old Magic
Genres: angst, romance
Author's Notes: Thanks to "S" for the beta.
Summary: Two new teachers are to be on staff, and Salazar shows his disgust at the choices his colleagues, and indeed Rowena's daughter, make. It drives him to....you'll see.
Salazar clutched a silvery piece of ribbon in his hand. Like any sensible wizard, he kept his hair back, held by a length of material. It was just one thing that kept on unfurling. He felt alone, abandoned, and he thought back to yesterday which had been fine until the time came to hire two new teachers.
Four people could build a school but not staff it. And so they sat in a wood panelled room in Hogwarts castle, grouped around what would become the staff room fireplace. Salazar stared into the flames as they discussed possible teachers. They flickered and danced and gave him ideas for a far flung future, when people would listen to sense.
As for the teachers, Helga taught Nature's Lore. Godric taught Battle Lore. Rowena taught Sorcery, which was Magical Theory and Charms. Wytche Craft and Applied Spells would fall to Helena. Augury meant Divination and Astronomy, and were wide open. Healing was Salazar's areas of expertise. He used potions and the power of thought to influence the mind.
Godric again asked for the posts to be given to Helena's pursuer, William Fletcher. Salazar had snorted in disgust and derision, “The man's a Muggle, or a Muggleborn, at best. They're dangerous. Thalia Prewett was mobbed by those hateful Muggles but two weeks ago, barely escaped because they had her wand. We really need to expose our students to dangerous types like them, or related to them.” Salazar's sarcasm couldn't be more obvious.
He agreed with Rowena and Helga on hiring Rowena's daughter, Helena. A bright girl, a little overly spirited but she'd tone down well in time. But Godric, the blustering foolish man with false ideas of tolerance, also wanted to hire her pursuer. Correcting himself, Salazar thought one of her pursuers, for Helena was a lady and of means, and beautiful and forbidding. Salazar himself wished he could take her for his own at times. But Helena was twenty-two and Salazar had now reached his fifty-seventh year, so he kept his silence. Helena was a magical talent, clever and smart as her mother, but she had a taint... at least Rowena had been wise in her choice of husband, if it couldn't have been Salazar himself.
“It might be good to have a Muggle-born teach those two,” Rowena said reasonably, smoothing back her long, greying dark brown hair. “It's about you not wanting him because he's the suitor of my daughter.” Rowena's dark eyes and her daughter's were the same eye shape and hue. He loved the eternally haughty glance of Helena. Rowena's poise was passed down and read in Helena's lofty posture. He hankered after Rowena, but the injustice of impurity in her daughter's choices still rankled him... just rubbed his fur the wrong way.
“You're agreeing to her marrying a person of such little distinction?” Salazar asked icily, unable to hold it in any longer. “And it's on principle, a basic law.” His posture was rigid.
“Better William than the Baron. Utter nuisance, he is,” Helga chortled, rosy-faced in amusement, her words relieving the tension. Rowena nodded and chuckled but soon nodded gravely, and curled her hair around her fist and let it fall in a c-shape by her white cheeks.
“Easier for all the Kings of Wessex to get along with the Normans,” Rowena spoke loftily. “And much better than having Salazar for an in-law.”
Salazar turned a pasty white. “I said it was on principle, a basic law. I'd love to marry Helena, yes, but not if she turns out to be so forgiving that she attracts dirty-veined types! Types that you want to allow to teach here - how wise do you think it is to teach a Mudblood Dark Arts leave alone allow them to teach others? Next you'll be allowing them all kinds of access, and their Muggle kin.” He shook his light-brown haired head and stared at the others through pale grey eyes.
“Listen, listen to yourself!” Godric put in emphatically from his chair, hitting his leg with his freckled hand for emphasis. “You sound like the worst miser, or a serf fleeing before a non-existent plague!” Godric's chest was heaving with the strain of what Salazar considered an overemotional outburst. It was a bit eloquent, but for what use? The truth was...
“This is a real disease, like the Red Death, Pox, and it will consume us all if we don't look to keep the branches cleared and tree properly watered!” Salazar was vehement. Godric turned away, shaking his flame-hued head, sighing. Salazar thought that Godric Gryffindor, nearly always a friend, had read Salazar's eyes and accused him of being overemotional in turn. He loathed him for this. He stared into the fire for a moment, then glared at the redhead that was Godric.
Again it was Helga who cut to the quick, waving a hand between the two friends cheerily and saying:
“We have to decide on two teachers. We don't have that many candidates. I vote for Helena to teach Wytche Craft. We can all agree on that. I think the Baron should take Astronomy. I vote for William to teach Augury. He's a natural. Yes, Salazar, a natural. I taught him myself when we taught by house alone. And he's very experienced for twenty-two.” Helga raised her hand into the air. “Any others?” she called.
Godric raised his hand immediately, almost hitting Helga in the nose with his hand as it shot up beside her. Rowena lifted her hand into the air, staring insolently at Salazar.
Why couldn't she look at him with anything but disdain? But he wouldn't cave so easily. “Switch the two. The Baron take Augury, this 'William' Muggle Astronomy.” It would be a small victory.
“No,” said Godric maddeningly. “William has talent at Augury.” Helga nodded her rosy-faced head. Rowena waited. Salazar clenched the seat of his chair with his hands. He looked into her eyes and saw her rejection, which he knew would likely come out of petty personal reasons.
“You would choose William Fletcher? Over me?” It was Salazar's gasp.
“Beside you, with you.” Helga raised her eyebrows high on her forehead. “Oh come on, Salazar, you can play along.”
“Play along!” echoed Godric. “Your principles be damned, these are dark times for Wizardkind and you make them worse by not accepting all as one.”
“You don't! You prefer nobility, chivalrous knights! You neglect the magic among the poor. Magic is done with wand and cauldron. magical blood, magical power, learning and skill. That should be the judge, the power of true magic alone! ” Salazar clenched his hands into fists. “Pureblood serfs are better than Muggle lords, the opposite of common thought! That is uncommon thought. That should win!” The heat of debate caused Salazar's cheeks to redden.
“If you don't like it you don't have to teach here,” growled Godric, thumping his freckly hand into his large fist. “You think we can teach here eternally anyway? We have to let go of control at some point. And we don't live forever. You can go and be sure it is done in your way as well. I've thought it out.” Godric ripped the hat off his head, and made his last ditch attempt to ensnare his friend Slytherin.
“We'll put the personal preferences of each into the hat, as if it had brains, a charm I know you can perform, Salazar. You know the magic...”
**
Salazar had sat in his room awake the entire night. He decided to visit his serpent, if Parseltongue was the only language he could be understood in.
Now Salazar stood in a dripping wet stone chamber with his newly hatched Basilisk. He had thought he would never leave it behind. He knew further enchantments. No one but a Parselmouth and one of Slytherin blood would be able to open the chamber and purge the school of everyone not of true magic. He hated most of all to see the look on Rowena's face as he passed. He thought of Rowena and thought of his dead wife who had so resembled Rowena, and Helena, all three being Abbotts. He had two sons, both grown and in other parts, one in Leicester, one in Dublin.
Salazar's boys had married real witches, and they had children who would shortly be going to Hogwarts. He wanted to remain to teach them, but he thought of the compromise he had made with the Hat, and knew he must start another project. He had relatives on the continent... they could build another castle, not so grand, but better suited to the student's needs. He had a name in mind, if his German and Romanian cousins could help - they were sensible witches and wizards - then perhaps a “Durmstrang” could be built.