Incoherence
Prologue + Chapter 1: Marionette
PROLOGUE
Every night, in the darkness, voices called out to him. Some were immediately familiar, some were not. Another him lived in these fantasies, one that gave him a sense of comfort. He was the other version of 'himself'. Through his own actions, actions that he would not have taken were he still the 'himself' that he had known for all of his life, he responded to the voices that called out to him. His mother, dead from an illness of the mind; his father, lordly and quick to anger with a swirling mass of malicious intent which had always been directed towards the 'otherself'; his sister, dead by their fathers hands; his brother, dispatched by the 'otherself' 's own two hands; all of these people called out to him. Others called out too, others whose voices he could not recognize fully. A young boy who had died by his hands, a man who he had led to his death, a couple who made him feel the warmth of a family, and another whose voice simply exuded the promise of pain to come. All of these voices called out to him, accusing him. In this world, he carried no name. He was both 'himself' and 'otherself', and bore the memories of all that had loved and despised the two of him.
These memories which imbued themselves into his soul were always somewhat forgotten upon his awakening, leaving only faint whispers and the feelings which they had invoked within him.
He slowly lost his mind in the whirlpool of feelings that had descended upon his soul. His forgotten memories slowly changed him, bit by bit, until his 'trueself' finally emerged. He remained completely unaware as he allowed his mind and body to free themselves from the constraints of his future. The ancient soul began to awaken, and would soon arise once again.
Would he become a marionette?
PROLOGUE END
Chapter 1
Harry Potter was in the worst pain that he had ever felt.
For the three and a half weeks that he had been at the Dursleys' home, he had found himself with splitting headaches each night. At the beginning, they hadn't been too bad; he had been able to ignore them to a degree, writing them off as stress- related migraines. Now, only weeks later, his headaches had escalated in pain past even the degree that the Cruciatus Curse had inflicted. The starvation and heavy beatings which came his way courtesy of his Uncle could not even compare to the intense pain that he experienced right before bed. He had sent a letter to Dumbledore explaining his situation and requesting a heavy pain relief potion, as muggle pain relievers seemed to have no effect on the headache. Dumbledore responded by sending a letter which lectured him on the danger of allowing him to have highly potent potions without a trained Potions Master to monitor the effects and proper dosage of the medicine.
What had scared Harry about this was that he had nearly responded in a rather biting tone that he was a more suitable Potions Master than any other, and that he obviously knew the proper dosages and side effects of all of the potions which he would potentially take. And that was how he discovered that he subconsciously knew more about Potions than any other person alive. Unfortunately for him, when he made a batch of his own strongest painkillers, which he was positive were made to perfection, they did not ebb the nightly pains by even a marginal degree.
Soon after that, Harry received word from Dumbledore that he would be temporarily retrieved in order to go shopping for his school supplies. The chosen date was August 4th, and Harry had been looking forward to it ever since, not because he wanted to see his friends, but rather because he was determined to discover the reason behind his constant headaches. After what seemed like an eternity of torturous nights, it was finally only two days away from his retrieval.
At first, the day had gone as usual. Harry had been up since before dawn, making sure that the house was absolutely perfect in preparation for the dinner guests that Uncle Vernon had been boasting about for the past week. Vernon had come home early the previous Friday with packages for his wife and son. He had then proceeded to inform them that his boss had been interested in having dinner with him, and that he suspected that a promotion might be in the works as a result of some project or other which he had arranged. As a result, Harry found himself preparing what could only be constituted as a feast under Vernon's demand.
As six o' clock drew closer, Harry could hear the door opening and Dudley's usual, "Can I take your coat?" a gesture he reserved for only the most influential guests. He couldn't help but shake with suppressed laughter as he overheard Dudley attempt to make conversation with the daughter of Vernon's boss, who had apparently accompanied them to dinner. Stifling a laugh, Harry emptied the pasta onto a serving dish and stuck it in the warmer.
Hearing Aunt Petunia lead the family into the family room, Harry quickly flipped all of the knobs on the stove to low heat and rushed over to the refrigerator, pulling out various bottles. As soon as he could hear Aunt Petunia ask the guests what they wanted to drink, he quickly filled up the Dursleys' glasses with their usual drinks and, upon hearing what they told Petunia, filling up the guests' glasses to their liking. After running back quickly to take the filet mignon off the grill, he managed to get the drinks on a serving dish right before Petunia walked briskly into the room to retrieve the drinks.
As the last of the food was ready and the families sat down to dinner, Harry snuck around the back with a slice of bread and some water to go eat in his room. Like all important dinners, Harry had been kindly informed that he would be dead if the guests even caught a glimpse of him. Unfortunately for him, he had to sneak through the living room, which was attached to the dining room, in order to reach the stairs.
"Harry?" A light female voice called out, her surprise evident.
Harry knew that voice, and by Jormungandr, he wished with all his might that he didn't. Hurrying upstairs, he pulled his door shut and collapsed on the bed. He could hear footsteps approaching, and within a few seconds, Cho Chang was banging on his door.
"Harry? I know it's you! Come eat with us." After a few minutes with no response, Cho threw the door open, startling Harry. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him down the stairs and into the dining room.
"Dad, this is Harry Potter. He's really famous at my school." Harry didn't dare glance at Vernon.
"Hello there!" The man was smiling cheerfully. "I didn't expect that one of your friends would show up here, Cho. What a pleasant coincidence! Will you be joining us for dinner, Mr. Potter?" Harry stole a quick glance at his uncle. With a look to Harry that promised later violence, Vernon gave his consent.
Harry felt very awkward. With Cho on one side of him trying to get his attention and Dudley on the other side swooning over Cho, he began to wish that he could disappear. As the adults began to discuss Harry's childhood, from Vernon's perspective of course, Harry began to recite the various potions ingredients which could be used in notice-me-not and teleportation potions. As the topic began to move on to Harry's parents, Harry excused himself to go to the restroom, allowing Dudley the much awaited chance to steal his seat. At the very least, the Dursleys weren't saying anything too bad about his parents, after learning that Cho was a witch and may be insulted by comments about the famous Potters.
Luckily, dinner soon came to a close, and Harry was able to excuse himself to take care of the dishes ("what a good kid" Mr. Chang commented, causing Dudley to jump up and run after him.)
A few hours later, the guests had left and an exhausted Harry collapsed into bed, falling asleep immediately.
'Otherself' looked on in horror as his father threw his sister's broken, mangled body to the floor. All that Lofn had asked of their father was to give her the freedom to marry whomever she wished. 'Otherself' had encouraged her, and now she was dead. He fingered his favorite silver knives from where they hid under his robes. He had been too foolish, to believe in his father.
"See that, boy? That is what happens when a member of this family attempts to act outside of what is acceptable for their social status. Now your little sister, your beautiful little Lofn, is cold on the floor. I know you've been contemplating your own freedom. You're always studying or playing with your little knives. Those things won't save you in life. You just have to be a good little heir and show up at all of the social functions, marry some girl, and act like the royalty that you are. As the King's younger brother, I cannot allow you to keep living in your foolish fantasy. As long as I kill Gryffindor's heir, you will become king."
The father walked over and kicked him to the floor. He cut a deep slash across 'Otherself''s chest with his sword.
"Remember who you are."
"Boy!" 'He' woke up to come face to face with Vernon, his face purple in rage. A quick look out the window told him that it was still late at night. "You ruined my business dinner!" 'He' tried to sit up, but was knocked back onto the bed by a large, meaty fist. Pinning him to the bed, Vernon pulled out a large kitchen knife, slashing it across his chest.
He cut a deep slash across 'Otherself''s chest with his sword.
"See that, boy?That is what happens when a worthless freak like you tries to act bigger than he is."
"See that, boy? That is what happens when a member of this family attempts to act outside of what is acceptable for their social status."
"Worthless… Useless… Freak… Unnatural…" Vernon muttered as he carved words into Harry's chest.
He spoke Parseltongue for the first time in front of his closest friends, in order to save Godric from being attacked by a basilisk.
"Freak!" Godric had exclaimed, pointing a shaking finger at him.
"Everybody's abandoned you, boy."
"We hereby banish you from Hogwarts. Never set foot on these grounds again." He smiled sadly.
"As you wish." He disappeared into the sky, disintegrating into the air, with only the wish that he could protect the precious school for all of eternity.
"You're a useless pile of trash. You're parents died because of you. Everybody you love died because of you. 'It's all your fault'." The man continued to angrily slash at his skin, but he had lost all sense of pain.
"You're garbage."
"The missus died of depression, I heard. First the daughter gets herself killed by some village man she was seeing, and then the eldest son goes crazy and kills the father."
"The young mistress was going into town to see a man? What garbage."
"Remember who you are"
"Remember who you are."
"Remember who you are."
"Remember who you are."
The palace was holding a debutante ball for the eldest princess. As the King's nephew, Salazar had been invited to attend. For the first few hours he had managed to avoid the chatty older girl, but his luck had finally run out. The arrogant princess had found him and immediately latched onto him, babbling about something or other. He indulged her with brief nods and bland comments, while desperately trying to find a way to escape her without offending the royal family. Desperately searching for an excuse out of the corner of eye, he saw a confident young man of about the same age approaching them.
"Ophelia, I have to borrow your acquaintance for a while. If you head to the Entrance Hall, I believe that prince you fancied at the last ball has just arrived. I heard rumors that he is hoping to win your hand tonight." The boy led Salazar to an indoor garden off of one of the branched hallways.
"Are you okay? I know that Ophelia can be very talkative. It seemed like you weren't enjoying it." The boy asked, his golden hair falling in front of his eyes.
"Thank you for saving me. I hate this sort of event." The boy laughed, a loud, boisterous laugh which would have normally irritated Salazar to no end, but instead only amused him.
"Don't worry, I hate them as well. My name is Godric Gryffindor, second son of King Valus Gryffindor." Salazar allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch up slightly.
"Salazar Slytherin, first son and heir of Lord Cyrus Slytherin. It's a pleasure."
"Likewise."
"Build a school? But we all have our own responsibilities. The only one who isn't the heir to their family is you, Godric, and if something happened to your older brother, you would be next in line for the throne!" Salazar insisted, his mind already planning the proposed magic school even as his common sense protested the idea.
"You're already Lord Slytherin Sal; and Helga and I would not be able to inherit our family titles, I must remind you. Although you and Godric do not realize it most of the time, Helga and I are still the women who are not allowed to hold titles or own land. Although the wizarding society allows for equal education rights, it is rare for women of this era to be treated in the same manner as men. I say that we should build the school. It is true that having an organized school would be much easier than apprenticing to the wizard closest to you in your family, and that a standard level of curriculum should be set. Furthermore, who knows when the next time Godric has a good idea will be?" Salazar couldn't help but smile at Rena's ever present humor.
"Very well. We'll build a school!"
"Salazar Slytherin, we hereby banish you from Hogwarts."
For the first time in his life at the Dursley's house, Salazar Slytherin woke up to the sound of chirping birds. He lay in bed for a moment, memories flashing past his eyes as he sorted through the long lost, somewhat jumbled memories of his previous life.
His previous life. Sal could have cried at the irony of it all. Who would expect the Gryffindor Golden Boy, the Boy Who Lived, to be none other than Salazar Slytherin, the dark, hated, evil founder. He would have to fix his reputation as well. It had seemed that the last thousand years had distorted the facts somewhat. He had never hated muggles and muggleborns, rather, he had wished for the wizarding world to be separated from the normal one, in the hopes that the witch hunts and hatred would stop. He had definitely been a dark wizard, but he had never been the prejudiced, evil, untrustworthy person that the wizarding world made him out to be today. He had a lot of work ahead of him. He hated politics.