charlieblue: (Default)
Something like a crossroads song ([personal profile] charlieblue) wrote on August 26th, 2010 at 10:27 pm
Oh my god, I've lost my mind. So this started out on tumblr, but then I thought, why deny livejournal the fruits of my insanity? So here you go; casting the Hogwarts founders, with snippets of dialogue thrown in.

The Hogwarts Founders
bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,
fair Ravenclaw, from glen,
sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,
shrewd Slytherin, from fen.

Godric: Here, and here. We draw the putrefaction lines along the natural shore, and use the Ix Chel codex to sink the wards into the stone temporally. The wards should rear cyclically, weaving back and forth through time, anchored in space.

Helga: When I told you a place of true learning is always destined to become a site of violence, I did mean implicit violence, not literal war, you know.

Godric: I haven't lived this long by underestimating the grotesqueries of human nature.

Helga: Well, you would know all about that, wouldn't you?

Godric: What? Just because I slew five dragons last winter with my bare hands -

Helga: And a rusty sword and about a gallon of firewhiskey -

Godric: I knew you would never let that go.

Helga: She was my favourite watchbeast.

Godric: Yes, and then she went mad, and now you have a lovely dragonskin cloak.

Helga: Fine. But use the Druidic incantation to set the jaguar-element oscillating. It'll sit better on the cold rock with native words than these Mayan plunderings. Maybe you'll want to wait for this Druid sorceress of yours to arrive.

Godric: Not jealous, are you darling?

Helga: Oh please. I've held your heart in the palm of my hand since I turned fourteen.


Helga: Not the Celtic Ravenclaws, surely? I thought we’d killed you off seasons ago. What a pleasant surprise.

Rowena: As delighted as I am to be a living relic, I’d prefer it if you would refrain from hereon out from reciting your Viking family’s illustriously violent heritage of genocide.

Helga: Oh, well if you insist. I love your wand, by the way. What is that, sphinx-claw tip? It’s beautiful.

Rowena: Isn’t it? I find it helps in close-quarters battle.

Helga: Marvelous. I do think I beginning to like you. I’ve always been a fan of the physical offense, though I do prefer a good battle axe over stealth weaponry. But I’m forgetting my manners. Welcome to my castle, soon to be our castle, if Godric has his way.

Rowena: You’re the princess?

Helga: With this face? What else would I be?


Salazar: If we take the second incantation and harmonize it across the fifth and seventh, then the destructive element becomes incorporated into the wandstroke, and … You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?

Godric: What are you doing?

Salazar: What do you mean, what am I doing? I’m revolutionizing Romanic offense arts, is what I’m doing.

Godric: No, I mean what are you doing outside? Does not the sun burn thine eyes, sting thine wan, pasty, hilariously pale skin?

Salazar: Shut it.

Godric: Make me.

Salazar: With pleasure.


Helga: What, you think I agreed to take the rest out of pity?

Salazar: Despite what you would have everyone believe, you are the kindest of us all.

Helga: You do! You honestly think I would gamble away my legacy for my soft heart. I have no heart, darling.

Salazar: Of course you do. You just like to hide it away beneath that beautiful bosom.

Helga: I take offense at such utter slander. What do you get when you take away all the children dominated by cunning, lust for power, the farce of bravery and nobility, intellectual obsession and scientia potentia est, and leave only determination and faith in your fellows?

Salazar: The mundane.

Helga: No, Salazar, that’s the trick of it. I get all the children who might just be free of the shackles of the lesser ambitions of humanity, who might just transcend the squalling, self-interested rabble.

Salazar: Along with all the talentless, unpromising rough from which we have sifted our diamonds.

Helga: Isn’t the bargain worth it? There’s talent in the rest, and it would be a tragedy to squander it.


Godric: Marry me.

Rowena: Have you ever noticed how close the words ‘marital’ and ‘martial’ are? A simple shift of a single vowel, and something about love is transformed into something about violence. That’s what happens when you introduce contracts to love; power is the key, and key to the power is the ‘I’, when you shift the ‘I’, you shift your life.

Godric: Is that a no, then?

Rowena: That’s an ‘if you ever ask me in all seriousness, you might just get a straight answer.’ Besides, if you did get married, Helga would string you up across the main gates, and snap your wand. And when I say wand, I do mean that both metaphorically and literally.

Godric: Ah, woe is me. Am I to be haunted all my life by my tragic weakness for magical prowess wrapped in a beautiful package?

Rowena: Perhaps, considering the way you collected us all. Anyway, Salazar already beat you to this week’s proposal. I turned him down, in case you were wondering. I think he’s working on Helga in the rose gardens right now.

Godric: Bast-. I must go. I…I’ve a potion that needs dragonsblood.

Rowena: But of course. Give them both a kiss for me.


Rowena: Do you remember when we found you? Dripping with marsh slime and half-dead, living in a pit of snakes. You were the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen.

Salazar: And now look at me.

Rowena: And now look at you. Why are you doing this? Why won’t you come out of here? It’s been days, and the students are nigh on killing each other. Everything’s gone so wrong since you fought with -

Salazar: Don’t you - you, of all of us - don’t you plead his case.

Rowena: He loves you, Sal -

Salazar: Don’t.

Rowena: We all love you -

Salazar: Stop. Get the hell out before I make you bleed like I’ve been wanting to since the day I first saw you.


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