---

History Lessons

---

Wiping the hair from his face, Harry examined the changes he had wrought to the rocky walls of the tunnels. Once he had completed an adequate defence of the cave-in, Salazar pointed out with a smirk that tunnelling under it was now a far more viable option for an invader.

The walls and floor of the main tunnel around the cave-in contained grains of a dully glinting black crystal. Harry had originally wanted to convert the entire wall to that same crystal, but once more, Salazar had reminded him of its flaws. An entire wall of it would be brittle, and prone to give way if attacked from a particular angle. Mixing the crystals as small black grains into the rock strengthened it, but also allowed Harry to make the rock somewhat fluid. Any attacks would be reflected among the crystals if the rock around it was fluid, simply containing or dissipating it, until Harry decided what to do.

The creation of the crystals had not been easy in any way, but they had been possible. When he had started trying to make the wall both fluid and solid as he had done by accident with the cave-in however, the crystals seemed a whole lot easier.

"We can continue at a different time, little one," Salazar told him from his seat on one of the boulders near the primary defence.

"I suppose," agreed Harry reluctantly, still critically examining his work. A cool hand on his shoulder made him pause and look up.

"It is skilful construction," said Salazar, "but time spent too long in the mind tends to deprive the body."

Harry blinked, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach. "I forgot…there isn't really time here is there? So I must have been out for…" he trailed off.

"Long enough for your body to want for nourishment and water," Salazar completed.

"Uh…how do I get out?" Harry asked pensively. Salazar smiled down at him, and his eyes glittered with amusement.

"Through trial and error," he said softly, before stepping out of sight.

Looking at the space where his mentor had stood moments before, Harry snapped his fingers in annoyance. "Damn it," he cursed.

Salazar's disappearance had been somewhat like Apparition, but without the noise, he mused. But then again, the Founder had very few problems when it came to entering and leaving his mind. Pacing thoughtfully, Harry ran over the possibilities.

The first, of course, was that he had to find the exit from his mind, but since Slytherin had disappeared with such ease, there seemed little reason. The second was trying some sort of mental Apparition.

Not such a bad idea really, Harry mused, but probably better for jumping around my mind than getting out.

And the third…perhaps it was simply like waking from a dream? He had managed to wake himself up from several dreams, once he realised that he was dreaming, and the agonisingly slow wrench out of his mind reminded him vividly of his movement from the mind to the present.

I suppose I could pinch myself, he thought with a chuckle.

Shrugging, he pinched the skin of his arm – 'It's all just a dream. Time to wake up Harry.'

---

Blinking blearily, he came to, feeling as if he was being pulled through a strainer, images of his mindscape still clinging to his eyeballs.

The first thing he noticed was that everything ached. His muscles were incredibly sore in the places that he could still feel them, and most disturbing of all was that he really couldn't feel very much. Trying to move his fingers, he was alarmed to find that he wasn't able.

Okay Harry, don't panic, they're just numb, he chanted.

With a groan, he pulled himself up from his slumped position and shook himself a little, relieved to feel the first tingles of blood running back into his arms and legs. After several minutes of excruciating sensation, pins-and-needles making him feel somewhere between laughing and crying, he flexed his hands, immensely glad that he was sitting before the fire.

"Very impressive, little one," came a voice from above the fireplace, and Harry looked up to meet the sly smile of the portrait.

Smiling a little, he ran a rueful hand through his hair. "Well, I'm going to have to take more breaks if I end up feeling like this when I get carried away."

Salazar's portrait chuckled and looked at him with a satisfied smirk on his face. "I can remember such an experience myself. Time does not run in the same fashion within the mind," he said.

"Yeah, I can see that," Harry said with a grin. "So how long was I out?"

"To my calculation…" the Founder said, conjuring a clock in the picture frame, "A day and a half."

"What?" Harry exclaimed.

"I suspect that you are hungry," Salazar remarked, waving his hand at the table laid out with food.

When his stomach growled in response and he realised just quite how dry his mouth was, he decided that food probably wouldn't be such a bad thing after all. He was pleased to note that Salazar lingered in his frame during the meal, as his counterpart was as yet no where to be seen.

"So…" Harry began hesitantly, "what have you been up to since I arrived?"

"Many things," said Salazar mysteriously before pointing out, "You are neglecting to speak Parseltongue."

"Oh…sorry," Harry hissed, before continuing. "Tell me," Harry beseeched.

"I have been re-evaluating my place in the castle. Many portraits did not accept my rule, and as many have been added since my days, my little soul-spies are not sufficient."

"Couldn't you just add more snakes?" Harry asked between mouthfuls.

"No," Salazar replied shortly. "I did plan for the eventuality, and bound a surplus of souls to my own, but I have had to spread my resources. One snake is enough to suffice for two portraits beside each other, and I would not call back those in the walls or wood for any matter."

"So there are snakes in the woodwork!" Harry exclaimed, before quieting. "I thought I was just going loopy."

"Hmm," Salazar hummed appraisingly. "Besides that dilemma, the control over the portraits has been functioning well. Dear Helga and my pretty little Ravenclaw have provided quite the challenge. However, I hold power over the paintings that they cannot even begin to contemplate."

Harry frowned. "Why were the painted snakes telling me to stay away from you?"

Salazar's expression darkened. "I believe that they have been…tampered with."

"How is that possible?" Harry asked, surprised.

"I believe that it is to do with their exposure to me. You must understand, of course, that the paintings that contain snakes are so very primitive, and more likely to be affected by the nature of the castle than other occupants. Therefore, their loyalties initially lay with the castle, and the current headmaster."

"Hmm," hummed Harry noncommittally, thinking dark things about the headmaster. Salazar seemed to guess his thoughts.

"You will have your chance for revenge when you return, little one," he murmured, a strange smile on his lips.

"I bloody well hope so," Harry muttered under his breath.

---

The next few days passed in a blur of eating, sleeping and building. Harry had become quite caught up in altering his mind, and although it was difficult and strenuous, he found it very satisfying. Therefore, he insisted on at least completing the primary defences before going on to practice more of his magic. In the times when he was eating, Harry focused on lighting parts of his body up, and with each trial it became easier and easier. Salazar still instructed him in the proper conduct and etiquette for meals, but they spent the majority of their time entrenched in Harry's mind.

It took him an entire day of work and calculations to discover the trick behind making the solid-fluid walls work. Finally, with Salazar's pointers, Harry discovered that the basic theories he had behind the changes were correct, but he had forgotten to factor in the black crystal grains imbedded in the walls, which were either throwing off his attempts or magnifying them.

After many accidents and melted rocks, he succeeded. Soon, several metres of ground around the cave-in were malleable and strong. They acted just like normal rock when he stepped on them, but they were constructed in such a way that he would be able to move through walls when he had finished all of the tunnels, not to mention being able to reflect mental, and to some degree, magical attacks.

Salazar explained to him that curses such as Imperio would be scattered and diffused by the reflective nature of the crystals in the rock if they were cast weakly, and other forms of mind control would be largely ineffective.

The defences and the creation of them were exciting, but Harry found a problem. The repetitive nature of transforming the tunnels in his head was exceedingly tiresome.

Sweeping his hair out of his face, Harry stretched a little before beginning the creation of new black crystal grains. He focused on the process in his head, and watched with satisfaction as the large stone whirled together in his palm. Then, closing his eyes and concentrating, he tapped it, and it fell into dust. Idly marking out a section of wall and ceiling with one hand he blew the dust towards it, observing the way it settled and sunk into the stone. Then, with a sigh, he settled down to the hard part – transforming the rock.

"Salazar?" he called from his kneeling position at the foot of the wall.

"Yes, little one?"

"Why can't I feel the Apprentice Bonds?" he asked. "I read in the books you gave me that I should be able to feel them up here," he said, tapping his head.

"I have temporarily suspended your awareness of them," Salazar told him, examining his pale hands.

"But…why?" Harry asked, nonplussed.

"They are…of a great magnitude than I had expected, and would have disrupted your mental defences were you to experience them consciously."

"Weird," Harry said, running his hands over the section of rock above him. "Why is that? I thought they were meant to build up over time."

"Indeed they are, but they have adapted unexpectedly to my ghostly form. I have no doubts that we are pioneering the bond between student and ghost," he said, a barely perceptible note of amusement in his voice.

Harry laughed. "My friends will certainly be surprised when I tell them. If I tell them," he corrected with a frown.

"It is your choice of course, but I find that the best defence against betrayal is in retaining secrets."

"Yeah, I had to learn that the hard way," Harry said irritably, before adding in his head, from those people I'm supposed to call 'family'.

"Oh?" came the curious voice from behind him, making Harry curse his slip up.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said shortly, gritting his teeth and focusing on his work.

"Keeping such pretty secrets to yourself?" said Salazar softly, seated at Harry's side with no sign of movement from his last resting place.

"I wouldn't call it pretty, but yes," Harry muttered defiantly.

"So bitter, my little one. I'll give you a choice then: you can tell me, or I will lift it from your head myself," he said with a deceptive gentleness.

"Neither way is very polite," Harry said, stalling. Then he laughed harshly. "How about we do a trade? I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he grimaced.

Salazar chuckled. "Very good Harry, give nothing away without recompense. It would do you well to know more of myself anyway."

"You can go first then," Harry said dully, shifting a little into a standing position to reach the higher areas of rock.

"Very well then, little one." He smiled. "I do not remember my birth name, for tradition prevailed in Obliviating all knowledge of it from my mind, and I took for my own the name Slytherin. I lived in a small village on a small island, known as Lundy. My mother had was the sole inheritor of the ruling mansion, a strange occurrence in those times, and when she married my father he added to our wealth and took control of the lands."

Harry paused from his work to listen to the Founder, noting the unreadable expression.

"My father had come from a warring fraction of the mainland, and whilst he had prestige and power, he was not a learned man. With him he brought his two younger brothers, and his feuds. I was brought forth from my mother's womb as the first and only heir, and from birth displayed a great aptitude for magic, which made him proud, for my mother's line had a history of Squibs."

"I learnt very little in my time there and spent my years with my two younger sisters, who became closer to me than any other mortal in all of my experience. We became as triplets often are, and shared a rare talent for understanding each other in our own language," Salazar said distantly, and a hint of bitter happiness crept on to his countenance. "We three shared the same bed, we dreamt the same dreams, and thought the same thoughts."

Harry pushed back his yearning and slight jealousy as Salazar spoke. He would have given anything to have that in his life.

"At the age of thirteen, a mage appeared on the Isle accompanied by his pupil, Godric," said Salazar with a smile. "He was travelling to show his apprentice the ways of the world, and naturally he stopped at the ruling manor to pay his respects to my father. He was invited to stay for several months, and he did. I found the budding seeds of a rivalry between Godric and myself, and we were forever attempting to best each other. However, Godric had been trained by a mage, and I was simply a gifted young wizard lacking in anything but impulse and unnatural control."

"Upon seeing our fights, and my skill with magic despite my less than adequate education, the mage saw it fit to offer me an Apprenticeship." Salazar chuckled. "Taking my fortune into my hands, I accepted, and tore myself from my sisters' arms with no small amount of pain. Soul bonds of that magnitude create an eternal rift when broken," he said sadly.

"Soul Bonds?" Harry whispered, and Salazar turned to him with a strange look.

"Oh yes, little one. Soul Bonds form between those who are close, and as close as we were it is safe to say that the emotional pain was most terrible."

"I went on my way, and we left the Isle, venturing into warring states. Throughout our trials, my rivalry with Godric evolved, and though still very much present we grew to tolerate each other. A year later, when passing through a town on the Southwest coast, we encountered a young witch named Helga who showed an aptitude for natural magic. She became something of a younger sister to us, and we stowed away our harsher disputes in taking her into our care, for we had both left siblings behind on our journeys."

"It was when we visited the North of the country we encountered problems. Throughout my journeying I had been discreet about my talks with any serpentine friends I met along the way, as even then it was a feared trait. My mother upon finding out that I used to lay in the garden and speak with the adders and grass snakes there made me vow to keep it a secret to the best of my abilities, as I believe she feared for my life. My sisters lacked the ability, but I was able to translate the language for them."

"However, when we reached the cold and mountainous North, we picked up a young girl by the name of Rowena. She was the daughter of a very powerful ruler there, intent on conquering large areas of land, and with many long-standing feuds. She caught me, and she told not only her father, but our mentor, and we were forced to flee. I thank the day that my mentor remained open-minded and only became slightly suspicious of me. Unfortunately, she had already completed the Bonds of Apprenticeship, and it sickened me to feel traces of her in my mind," he spat, eyes flashing.

"Years passed. Rowena and I kept our battles private, and to all fronts acted as we should. Godric and I became firm friends, and Helga remained as our little sister. We four of us made a pact that we would remain together when we left our mentor's tutelage, and we stood by that. However, Godric and I were the first to leave, and I made to return to my family."

Salazar's face darkened, shadows creeping further into it and his eyes blazing. "I discovered, to my horror, that in my absence a rival of my father's had attacked the Isle and taken control of the village, murdering my family and my sisters and burning their home. My father was beheaded, and his skull was taken as a trophy. My mother was given to the warriors, and my sisters, after being handed round the men, were burned."

Harry looked on with shock and sorrow. To suffer such a loss as that…

"I felt an unimaginable pain as the last residues of the Soul Bonds were destroyed, and when I returned to find Godric I was a different man than when I had left. All I held in my mind was the promise of revenge and the name of the man I was to kill." Salazar smiled maliciously. "He died a month after I had found him."

"Who was it?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Now, now, my little one, it is your turn to tell me what you lived through," he reminded him with a faint curl of his lip.

"Right," Harry said slowly, still reeling from what he'd been told. "My parents…my dad was an Auror, and he worked against Voldemort. He'd met my mother in school, and they got married soon after they left. They worked in the Order of the Phoenix to fight him, but at some point it must have got too bad, and they went into hiding under the Fidelius charm in Godric's Hollow. Sirius was their Secret Keeper, but he gave convinced Wormtail to take it from him, and Wormtail betrayed them to Voldemort."

Harry spoke softly as he remembered what he had heard of their deaths from the Dementors. "Voldemort came to their house, and he went to attack my father. My father told my mum to run upstairs with me, and then he was killed. Voldemort told my mother that she needn't die, but she did. She died for me…and I was protected. And because of that, the Killing Curse rebounded, and I got this," he said softly, lifting the dark mop of hair from his forehead to reveal the pale scar.

"I was taken to my Aunt's house by Hagrid, on a flying motorbike," he said, smiling a little at the half-remembered memories that had occasionally haunted his dreams as a child. "I was left on their doorstep with a note," he said, his voice becoming bitter. "For the first eleven years of my life I was called 'boy' or 'freak', and my home was in a cupboard. I didn't even know my own name until my primary school teacher introduced me by it in my primary school. Then when I was eleven, and my 'family' had fled the storm of Hogwart's letters, Hagrid came to get me, and you know the rest," he finished briefly.

"And what, pray, do you plan to do when you are legally allowed to use magic?" Harry looked up, surprised at the steely tone in Salazar's voice, to see him staring over his head, eyes burning furiously.

"Leave them and never return?" Harry said sarcastically. "What am I supposed to be doing?"

Salazar laughed - a dark cold sound. "Exacting your revenge."

---

Harry had returned to his rooms for the evening, and lay stretched out on his bed, contemplating what he had learnt.

The alteration of the mental tunnels had been time consuming, but he had managed to complete a large section that extended from the cave-in to the first branch off of the main tunnel. As he had become familiar with the processes involved in morphing the walls, his speed had picked up, and although it was nowhere near fast, he had certainly cut down the time spent changing each section a great deal.

Salazar's tale bothered him greatly. It had been fascinating and horrifying, but it felt to him as if there were pieces missing that he should be able to spot. There had to be something that had made him loathe Rowena as he did, and he was sure that it happened in that timeframe.

Rubbing his forehead, he felt his heart wrench in empathic sadness. To have lost such companions as his sisters must have been…he couldn't even find the words for it. It would be horrible enough to lose his friends, but to lose someone that he had known so intimately from birth would have made him mad with grief.

But what were the consequences? Salazar wouldn't discover such a thing and not act on it, for the description of his impulsive nature reminded Harry very much of himself. If something of that magnitude occurred to him, he would not lie still. True, he had searched and found the man who had orchestrated the scheme, but what then? Bitterness and rage was not something that was simply appeased and done with.

Harry shivered a little and rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around himself. What had the ghost done in his lifetime?

Revenge. That was what he had called it. What he assumed Harry would carry out on the Dursleys. Sighing, he thought back to all the times he had wished that he could get revenge on those people others called his family. He'd been locked away for years, unloved, uncared for, but always just shy of real hurt. He'd been hit, but they had always made sure that it was never more than acceptable.

Besides, he thought angrily, mental damage is so much harder to pinpoint.

How had he left that house able to love? He hadn't learnt from personal experience by any stretch of the imagination. He'd never been the recipient of love, but oh how he'd yearned to be. To have a family, to have people who respected him, cared for him, loved him.

How different it could have been, he thought sadly. At least he had that much in his life. He doubted that the childhood incarnation of Tom Riddle had had even that. Hadn't that faded memory in the Chamber of Secrets told him how similar they were? It was time for him to find out.

When I leave, he promised himself, when I leave, I will find Dumbledore and learn what happened to him.

Know thy enemy. That was what he would do. Fighting blind didn't give you an edge, it only filled you with fear of what could be. If he knew what his nemesis was really like, then he would finally enter the plains of reality instead of remaining an unknown evil.

It was time to discover.

---

It was a foggy morning when Harry performed his first subconscious piece of magic. He was lying on his back in the middle of the smudged chalk circle on the ground floor, staring up at the long glass roof above. He could see thick reams of water vapour rolling over the top of it, settling on the glass and rolling down. Vaguely he wondered whether it actually reflected the weather outside, or simply reacted to his mood as Rowena's did. It might not even be daylight outside. For all he knew, he could be living on an opposite timeframe to everyone around him.

Sighing, he shifted a little, feeling the emptiness in his stomach but unable to rouse himself enough to move. I wish Dobby was here, he mused.

"H-Harry Potter sir!" came a squeak beside him, making him jump and roll into a sitting position.

"Dobby?" he confirmed, eyeing the panic-stricken house elf before him. The little creature was wringing his ears and shaking nervously.

"Master Harry sir! Dobby is sorry to have disturbed you…but…" he trailed off, looking distraught.

"What is it Dobby?" Harry asked in a calming voice.

"Dobby is sorry sir, but…but Dobby is unable to get back sir!"

"What?" Harry said surprised. "But…then how did you get here?"

"Dobby is not knowing sir!" the little house elf cried, wringing his ears all the more furiously, and displacing the woollen hat on his head.

Sighing, Harry picked it up and placed it back on his head, making Dobby bow and the hat fall off again.

"Dobby is sorry sir!" he said, scooping the hat up and pulling at it between his hands.

With a sudden blink of inspiration, Harry stood up. "It's all right Dobby, no problems," he said, trying to pacify the elf. "But would you help me with a little experiment? I think I did a bit of accidental magic to bring you up here, and I want to see if it will work again."

"Oh, Dobby will be most happy to help you, Harry Potter sir!" he chattered, a broad smile coming over his face, instantly reversing his previous worried expression.

"All right," Harry said, thinking, "just stay there for a moment."

Walking over to the opposite side of the room, Harry sat down again, trying to recall if he'd felt anything happening as he'd thought. He'd been lying there, a little uncomfortably, nonetheless fine but for a slight coldness.

The cold! He thought excitedly. Closing his eyes he let his mind drift into the almost familiar hazy state in which he was able to access his magic. I want Dobby here, he thought, and opened his eyes again. Dobby was still clutching his hat and looking hopefully at him from the opposite side of the room.

Frowning, he closed his eyes again, letting his mind drift. Perhaps it was really all about how he phrased things? Fine, he thought, I wish Dobby were here.

"Harry Potter sir!"

He couldn't help but grin. Salazar was going to be pleased.

---