“I will not have Mudbloods anywhere near any school of mine!” shouted a man with long black hair. He was rather odd looking; his appearance calling to mind the words ancient and monkey-like.

A woman shrieked. “How dare you speak that way!” Her features were plain. Her long, flowing hair was pulled back in a bun. She had on a blue, flowing dress that resembled someone in olden times.

“Salazar, please. You don’t need to speak of any person that way,” another man said loudly.

“I agree. This is just absurd. Students should not be picked for this school based on their blood-lines!”

The man called Salazar rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“The four of us made this school out of bravery, love, and for children to learn about magic. It’s their past, present, and future, and hopefully they can all come and be a part of it,” the woman with the bun said serenely.

“And what about the Muggle-born children?”

Salazar let out a laugh. “Then those children can rot in-”

Rowena, the same woman who had yelled earlier, opened her mouth, then shook her head in disgust.

“Then where are the children- Muggle-borns- going to learn?” the man called Godric asked curiously. He pushed back his thick, long hair and looked at the two women, now glaring angrily at Salazar.

“Not at my school!” he yelled furiously.

“Our school! Hogwarts is going to be-”

“Yes, yes, Helga! We’ve established what it’s going to be-”

“But now we are discussing the type of students that Hogwarts wishes to accept. The school has been running for many years, now. Even though they have all been sorted into the different houses, this fighting is becoming a serious problem, Salazar. We can’t just kick out all of the Muggle-borns,” Godric told him finally, a glare upon his face.

“And I for one am only accepting students who are up to standard in all magic laws, and have been in pure-blood families for centuries, and are ready to learn,” Salazar finished hastily.

“Well, two out of three isn’t bad,” said Godric. The two women snickered.

“I don’t care what you all think!” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m going to bed!”

As the man walked away and down the empty hall of the four founders’ school, Hogwarts, the other three didn’t know what to do.

“It’s just not fair to not accept the other children, Godric. They’ve got just as much talent as the pure-bloods, you’ll see. They’ve got just as much magical properties as the next pure-blood, and I for one am tired of Salazar’s moaning.”

“I know, Helga, but we can’t defy him like this.” The two women gave him a warning look. “But I agree with you both! Salazar just needs to accept that all people aren’t like him in blood traits.”
“Then what can we do? We can’t just kick him out. He helped build this school just as much as any one of us. He’s a professor as well- we couldn’t find another one in time,” Rowena told the two softly.

“He wouldn’t go quietly, either,” Helga replied.

“If we can’t agree, the school will have to be shut down! It’s only just begun, Godric, how-”

“Ladies, please. Hogwarts will not be shut down, all right. Salazar and I are just having a bit of a disagreement like we always do,” Godric said.

“And it’s three against one. We have to do something.”

“We’ll figure something out. He may not like it, but we’ll figure something out.”

~ * ~

Salazar walked silently down the intricate hallways, only hearing the echoing sounds of his shoes on the stone floor. There were whispers among the three behind him and around the corner; he knew it.
“How dare they defy me!” he thought angrily as he headed to his own sleeping quarters. It was nearing midnight; he realised that they had been fighting for nearly two hours.

“I made this school! They just helped me! It should be mine to run!”

The more he thought about what the four had just argued about, the more irritated he became.

He undressed and got into bed huffily, trying his best to sort out his feelings. He only wanted the pure-bloods at his school, of course, but he didn’t know why. Well, he actually he did.

He figured that it had something to do with his own father always telling him, “Mudbloods are scum- they’re worthless, son. You need to have nothing to do with them, do you hear?

Salazar had once had a friend who was half-blood, and his father had found out. Let’s just say that it wasn’t a very nice night for the poor boy. He was whipped until there was no tomorrow, and he had been told to never see the boy again.

He tossed and turned in the small four-poster bed, trying to fall asleep. But he couldn’t forget what they had told him.

“Salazar, you must leave the school.” Suddenly, a quiet voice filled his ears. He sat up in his bed quickly and listened intently.

“Salazar!” the booming Voice rang through his room like a man on a high pedestal, trying to get a crowd’s attention. He jumped at the sound.

“Who’s there?” he asked timidly. His voice didn’t sound like his at all. It almost scared him.

“You have to leave, now.”

Salazar raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, trying to presume what the voice was saying. “Why is that?”

“Because you know that you will not win.”

“Yes, I will!” he said defiantly. He was back to his old self. He didn’t care what The Voice said; he was going to have order- his own way- or no way. He didn’t care what The Voice, or anyone else for the matter, thought about him. He didn’t care about anyone else, and he didn’t care that he was the only one who thought what he thought.

“NO. You won’t. Many generations from now, there will be more Muggle-borns-”

“MUDBLOODS!” Salazar roared at The Voice, looking throughout the room for the source.

The Voice shouted back, “There will be more Muggle-borns in this school than there are pure-bloods in a few hundred years. There are other people in the world besides yourself. You need to realise that they need proper education and schooling in magic as well.”

“But not in MY school,” Salazar told it rebelliously.

“It is yours, Godric’s, Helga’s, and Rowena’s school. You four made this together out of pure love and bravery, and truth. You need to instil this into the students who are taught here.”

“I know what you are saying, but my friends need to learn that what I say counts as well.”

“Then go. Go and tell them.”

“I already have-”

“You have tried to tell them. You need to tell them that you aren’t taking “no” for an answer.”

He stood motionless for a moment, trying to sort it through his brain. If he did that, it would start yet another argument.

“There will be hardly any pure-bloods left when this school shuts down. That won’t be for hundreds more years, but if you don’t do something about your argument, then there will be no school for that long. Your school will fall apart; it is already hanging by the hinges.”

Salazar sat bolt upright in bed. He was sweating profusely, and breathing very rapidly. He slowly got out of bed, then jumped around the corner of his dormitory. There was no one there.

The Voice was gone.

“Hello?” he shouted, hoping for a sign of another being in the room.

“Hello?” he repeated.

There was no answer. After five minutes of standing there, he realised that he was going to be late for breakfast.

But then he thought, I’m not hungry. Instead of getting dressed, he pulled out a battered old suitcase, one that used to belong to his father. He didn’t know why he had kept the case, but he had known that he would need it one day.

He packed his clothes and other belongings, then set the bag by the door.