History of Magic Classroom

Detailed description of the classroom below. Come here to learn all about various figures in magical history, or to have a chat with Salazar. If he likes you, he may be able to be coaxed away from his work and books to discuss something -other- than magical history...

------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunlight shone into Salazar Slytherin’s classroom from within the very few small windows. It was actually sunlight filtered by lakewaters, being that the ‘dungeons’ where he and his students would dwell and learn were subterranean and in part even directly beneath water. Dangerous, yes, but he had confidence that the magic he and his other three compatriots used to make this school would protect against it. And, even so, Salazar installed further safeguards after Rowena had finished, and without her knowledge. He tended to clash with the woman, anyway. What Rowena didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her and in his opinion Salazar would hope that the other three would actually approve of extra fail-safes. They protected the children just as much as the adults that would be venturing their halls.

The wizard himself was sitting at his desk, the one in his classroom made of yew and stained with ebony. Classes had yet to begin and already he had a mass of parchments upon his desk, all of them filled with writings that were hardly trivial in length or topic. Scholarly witches and wizards had written him on both the possibility of teaching and in collaborative research that would eventually be compounded into a book. Other parchments were notes from his fellow founders, if the word ‘note’ could even apply to writings that detailed. They were not too busy as yet to speak, and Salazar personally doubted they ever would be since there would always be spare hours in which to converse. It was just easier for Salazar sometimes to express himself in writing than speech, and with new designs being planned all the time it was easier to show than tell. Further sheets of the yellow-ish paper product that already felt soft with age contained various formulas and theories he had conceived and intended to put into trial practice sometime soon. True, he would profess history to his students, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t dabble in other aspects of magic.

Salazar picked up one of the groups of parchment that detailed a magical working he was in the process of putting together, holding it aloft before the flame so that he could review the symbols, needed equipment, and accompanying textual instructions. Like most of his works it was mostly for academic’s sake. But if it worked...

A swift movement at the door he’d left ajar caused the wizard to start and cram the parchments into the nearest drawer he could find. The last thing he needed was for someone to suspect anything. Especially Rowena... the fellow intellectual would no doubt either attempt to collaborate or discredit his attempts and research by finding a better, more-acceptable way to go about the same theory. For Salazar, it was the end that more than justified the means. Many others who had gone down the radical path in history believed it so, too.

The wizard sighed when he realized it was not Rowena come to discuss a new topic upon which they would clash, but rather the tiny form of his six-year-old son. He kept the parchments hidden. “Quis operor vos volo iam?” Salazar demanded of the boy what he wanted now with no small trace of annoyance. “Qua est vestri matris?” he inquired of Branwen with the clear intent he had left Silas in her care specifically so Salazar wouldn’t be bothered.

“Is est...” the boy’s high-pitched voice echoed throughout the room in return Latin, though eyes much like Salazar’s own suddenly turned confused. Silas’s countenance turned apologetic. “She is busy...”

“And I am not?!” Salazar snapped, gesturing to the papers on his desk as he stood. The few-second display reminded one of a snake that had been coiled and had instantly lashed out to strike. “If you wish to do something helpful, you might take these letters to the owlery and send them off,” he said in a softer but barely warmer tone, handing the child a stack of correspondence all packaged for sending from an inner pocket within his robes.

He thought he heard his son mutter apologies for disturbing him before taking the offered letters. Gray eyes watched the boy begin to leave, though became markedly suspicious as the child turned back around. “You... you promised to take me through the forest today...” Silas murmured in a mixture of disappointed reminder and what Salazar deemed a rather pathetic whine.

“Later, perhaps, if you do as I ask...” sighed the wizard, for he’d hoped the boy would have forgotten that obligation. A smile brightened Silas’s face from chin to crown. He gave his father a hug that Salazar as usual only responded to half-heartedly before taking off down the hall at a run.

Once Silas had gotten well out of earshot, Salazar closed and locked his door with a hope and determination to continue with his work undisturbed.


[Open to anyone that wants to rp. =) ]

Not particularly a man more fond of the light or dark when it came to lightening preference, Godric Gryffindor paid no attention to the Dungeons signature gloom as his attention was totally given to the parchment within his hands. He glanced up just in time to avoid the wall, which had no doubt moved as he doubted he had started walking sideways. In actuality, he had not entered this region of the castle in search of his colleague, but since he was already there... well it did save a trip if nothing else.
Slipping the scrolls into his deep pocket, Godric went to the classroom door and knocked three times. Usually he knocked twice, finding the third unnecessary, but the door was thick and no doubt Salazar was buried up to his jawline in work.
A quick greeting followed by a friendly chat on the basics of school life would be perfect, he mused, going over his schedule within his mind. He couldn't remember anything pressing on it and contended himself to not be short of time for his visit.

Salazar had just nicely gotten settled back into his chair and reading the correspondence from other scholarly friends that thought his and the others' idea of a magical school was not but folly. Without even thinking he had taken one of his rosaries out and lightly caressed the beads in his right while the left held parchment aloft for reading. It was a habit of his often when he sat reading or writing since his days in the Monastery. His fellow brothers often knew not if he were reading or praying... which sometimes worked to Salazar's advantage.

A faint rapping reached the wizard's ears that made him jump and glance back to the door he'd strode from not but a few minutes prior. Salazar couldn't help but initially glare at it, thinking it was his son playing games with him. For the boy's sake, he mused upon standing once more, the letters had best been sent off... With this thought in mind, Salazar stalked over to the door. Certainly he could have spelled it unlocked and open. But that wouldn't give the same intimidation effect as a full-grown man towering over a small child, and that was precisely Salazar's intentions.

"Quis i-" Salazar began in a mixture of a hiss and a yell at whom he had thought was his six-year-old son...

... but the dragonhide boots that met his eyes were far too big for the boy's still-tiny feet...

Pools of gray rose, until Salazar came face to face with none other than Godric Gryffindor. A single ebony eyebrow upon the left side of the wizards face gave a little hop upwards towards his hairline before the wizard pushed the door open further. "Godric..." he greeted his friend, slightly uncertain. "My apologies - I thought for a moment you might be my son playing a prank, despite the fact I sent him on an errand. Do enter..."

With that, Salazar stepped aside and gestured for the other wizard to come in. He peered down the hall suspiciously for a moment to make sure that Silas was not on a return trip from the owlery already.

In the short time that the wizard had awaited for the door to be opened, he had somehow become lost in the difference between a comet and the star cluster Caelum. He had just reached the conclusion that the Eridanus had nothing to do with the comet formation in the first place when the door opened and he was nearly made the object of Slytherin's temper. As was usual of him, Godric's lips tightened into a knot and his eyes widened slightly. Usually it was his wife that prepared to thoroughly verbally attack him, though the reasons often seemed lost in the swirl of thought. But said attack never took place as a hastily given apology was issued. It confused him that a child would be subjected to such a startling tone, but to each their own.
With that in mind, he quickly donned a smile and entered the room, waving a hand to show that his feelings were not the least bit bothered.
"Ah, no harm done. Reminded me of my childhood." He chuckled. "My uncle often slammed people against the wall when they knocked too loudly or earnestly."
He took in the decorations of the room, finding them at the very least fitting of the professor. His own classroom was yet rather spartan, maybe Salazar could offer a few suggestions on that, but that was for later.
"I had hoped to find you free for a moment of speaking. Do you have such a moment?"
They got along fairly well, each of them masters of their craft without the intense pride that kept some of the scholarly profession from liking others. Of course, like anyone, they did not agree on everything, but Godric was not a stranger to the ideals of the world, though he often forgot they existed.

In the seconds open to Salazar to see Gryffindor's initial countenance - startled, and perhaps a bit indignant, the wizard assumed - he hoped he would not be subject to a lecture upon the manner in which to greet visitors. Branwen tended to get on him about such things, both in her wait to be allowed to enter and upon his own unannounced entrances. With a silent prayer of thanks, yet a slightest hint of annoyance at such cheer, Salazar was grateful such a conversation seemed unnecessary.

Raven brows knitted slightly upon hearing his greeting reminded Gryffindor of his childhood. An answer came shortly thereafter, however, and Salazar wondered if the relation in question may have been the man's reason for being so... chipper. As though it were better to be cheerful despite the relation's ire rather than give into the negativity. To each their own, but Salazar couldn't help but be curious about what made up that level of individuality. "Now there's an idea..." Slytherin murmured under his breath before closing and locking the door once more.

"I had hoped to find you free for a moment of speaking. Do you have such a moment?"

“I have as many of such moments as you wish or require,” Salazar replied with a nod, conjuring for his guest a much more comfortable seating accommodation than what was currently arranged for their eventual students. He gestured for Godric to go ahead and take a seat, then did the same and spelled a kettle to heat water for tea. Slytherin had to admit he was fairly good friends with the wizard, even though they did not always agree upon everything. A few of their ideals clashed rather strongly, some of which Salazar found particularly outlandish or ignorant, but the wedge between them at this time was scarcely larger than a few slices of bread.

“Pray tell what vexes or occupies your mind this day, friend?” Salazar queried, shrewdly observing the wizard before him through curious eyes.

The man opposite him always reminded Godric of the mechanical snake his brother had owned as a child. The toy warily watched any who approached its young charge, not caring that it was not in possession of either blood or soul. Salazar was not like the snake in way of being soul-less, but it was the eyes or more so the manner in which they always seemed wary that caught Godric's memory and tied it to the magical toy. Such a resemblance would no doubt not be found amusing by his friend however, and thus he had never made his observation a verbal one.

Taking the seat conjured him, the Astronomy professor sighed with comfort.
"You indulge me greatly, my friend." He motioned to the tea, something he was fond of. "I have yet to find a moment that my mind is not vexed with occupation these days..." he chuckled. "Perhaps it is the change of my wine. My wife is known to not be a good judge of the taste of wines."
Truthfully this was just his way of saying that he really had nothing on his mind, save a few starry visions and that Salazar was no doubt soon to be privy to a completely random conversation... But it was rather new of Godric to speak of wines rather than the heavens above, which was unto itself a marvelous feat. Not that he considered it such, he had already moved from the wines to his friend's selection of them and no doubt would swiftly move onward into another land altogether. It is said that where the heart lies, there does it also return. Sooner of later they'd discuss stars or maybe history... the wizard liked to speak of things that interested his friends and the stars had a long held history.

"What of your taste? Do you prefer a wine of a specific sort? Or does mead or ale strike you better?" His red eyebrows lifted one at a time and then dropped.

Salazar did what only came natural to him, and was the standard protocol of any friend when another voiced their thoughts: he watched, he listened, and he pondered. He could certainly understand a mind vexed with occupation, for his own mind was such since they had built the school. For Salazar this busy-ness of mind was a positive aspect. The wizard’s ebony brows furrowed slightly in thought as talk turned to wines, and the ability to judge them. How a change in wine would affect the activity of one’s mind, other than eventual inebriation if over-imbibed, was beyond him. Salazar therefore came to the conclusion that the wizard did not have anything particular on his mind, but rather sought the company of another person. Either that or perhaps Godric was about to share an interesting new insight on the topic. It was difficult for even he to say what precisely, if anything, was on his friend’s mind. But one thing was for certain: Salazar was highly intrigued that talk did not consist of the stars and planets afloat in the celestial heavens above right from the beginning.

Intrigued, the wizard decided this fascinating new venue of conversation was worthy of exploration. With Godric’s disposition their talk would no doubt change gears several times, but that in itself was fascinating. It showed how the other wizard thought, and the wizard from the fen was highly intrigued about the way others thought. “I must confess that my wife too is also a poor hand at judging a good wine from a bad one,” Salazar commented truthfully. Or rather, he felt it was the truth.

"What of your taste? Do you prefer a wine of a specific sort? Or does mead or ale strike you better?"

The wizard took a moment to contemplate. “I tend to favor cloudberry wine, or any other fine wine that is not excessively sweetened. However... mead comes in close second,” Salazar replied as he spelled the now steaming kettle to pour tea into a pair of cups. They proceeded to float over to the pair of wizards, along with an array of canisters meant to hold various herbal teas. “What sort of wine suits your taste, my friend?” the wizard asked in turn, selecting for himself an anise-flavored tea blend.

Ah, Godric mused, perhaps women are always so inclined. Not that he was any to make such a judgement of the fairer sex. He had courted a single woman and had in all aspects lost her in exchange for his first love. Though his first love was not of the physical form that could actually steal such affections. It was complex enough for his wife to have stated very clearly that he was 'difficult'... well, she was entitled to her own opinion.

During this observation of his own wife, Godric almost missed his friend's reply, nodding in time to not seem rude as the words cut through his dense cloud of thought. Steady, he admonished himself. No need to lose your head after so little conversing. Stay on topic and for heavens sake stop wandering! Little good that inner chat did him as with the word 'heavens', he began wondering if he'd finished that star chart he'd been working on.

"Ah, cloudberry is delectable. My brother is quite fond of that certain wine; refuses to drink any other. Ah, thank you." He selected a random canister and measured a suitable amount of tea into his cup, filtering it through a simple spell. "Cinnamon with ginger. You have excellent taste." Godric gushed, sipping the brew. "Wine, yes. Uh, mainly elderberry wine or rose hip... more into fruit wines than those of the grape." he sipped his tea. "Although grape in itself is a fruit, so you'd have to ponder why there would be such a difference. Ah, no matter. I'm hardly a man of great thought when it comes to wine and its facets." At that point, it might be pointed out that one rarely spoke about something unless they found it of interest in the first place. Hence was why Godric was of a rare category unto himself.

"Rubus chamaemorus... you know at one point I submitted such a name to the Wizarding Association of Heavenly Classification. They believed it to common for a celestial name. Absurd don't you think?"