THE MISUNDERSTOOD LEGACY OF SALAZAR SLYTHERIN

April 7th, 1993

An expos é by: Rita Skeeter

Two weeks ago, Harry and Rose Potter, our very own Survivors, lived up to their name yet again by overcoming incredible odds and defeating the dark artifact that was opening the Chamber of Secrets, saving Draco Malfoy, only son of Lord Lucius Malfoy, in the process. This alone would be incredible enough, but in the process of their escape, Harry Potter slew the enormous basilisk within, making him the youngest basilisk slayer in recorded history and the first one in four hundred years. Basilisk parts are some of the most expensive per pound – the most recent numbers value a single scale at up to 10 galleons.

Not only is our hero kind, he is also generous. Many of us former Hogwarts students suffered under Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic. Yes, dear readers, I said taught, because Harry Potter donated his portion of the basilisk, a fortune on par with that of several noble families, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, on the condition that it be used to hire a new History of Magic professor.

"History is important," the boy himself told me in an exclusive interview. His brilliantly green eyes shone with the force of his passion, leaving this reporter in awe. "History, tradition – it means something in our world. We deserve to know this world we have been lucky enough to be born into, to learn more about it than just goblin wars."

But that's not all! As the hubbub died down, Harry Potter and his sister revealed yet another ground-breaking discovery, this time about one of the school's founders.

Dear readers, I myself foolishly believed that Salazar Slytherin was a blood supremacist. I falsely reported, when the Chamber first opened, that the man felt muggleborns unworthy of magic, and left the monster inside the Chamber to finish his work.

But we were, all of us, wrong.

Salazar Slytherin left a stone tablet in the Chamber. Upon that tablet, he instructed his descendants to use the Chamber to shelter the students of Hogwarts should the castle ever be invaded. As they waited, safe in the belly of Hogwarts, the basilisk would roam the halls of Hogwarts, killing intruders with its deadly gaze. Supplies would be delivered by both the basilisk, named Selena, and Fawkes, whom was once believed Albus Dumbledore's familiar. Unfortunately, an incident in 1943 drove Selena mad, and Harry Potter was forced to put her out of her misery.

So, dear readers, we were wrong. Salazar Slytherin never wanted to drive muggleborns from the castle – he wanted to protect them. There were Parselscript journals and documents that Harry and Rose Potter generously donated to Oxford University where they are currently being studied by Maitri Asan, famous historian and Parselmouth. She confirms what the Potters have said based on those documents.

"There is no evidence that Salazar Slytherin ever disdained those of muggle ancestry," Ms. Asan told me. "On the contrary, these documents proved he was their advocate, worried of the harm they might come to at the hands of muggles. You must remember, magic was still feared during this time. Salazar's own mother was burned for being a witch."

So, there you have it. Several groundbreaking discoveries and revelations, one after another, all thanks to a 12-year-old boy and his sister. Harry and Rose Potter did more than save us from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named that October night in 1981 – they have now saved Slytherin's legacy as well. It is perhaps ironic that neither of the twins are themselves Slytherins – Harry Potter is a Gryffindor, and Rose Potter a Hufflepuff. In their scant two years at Hogwarts, they have already made history once more.

For more on the once-believed rumors of Salazar Slytherin's departure from Hogwarts, see page 6

For a history of Parseltongue and Parselscript, see page 11

For a brief biography of Harry Potter and his accomplishments, see page 12


"Good morning," Rose chirped, popping a strawberry into her mouth. Susan smacked her with her newspaper.

"Merlin, Rose, give us a warning at least!"

"Before what?" Rose asked innocently.

"Before – before – this!" she gestured incoherently to the Great Hall, which had erupted into whispers and the occasional cry of denial.

Rose smirked. "You mean you're not enjoying the chaos?"

"We definitely are!" Fred and George chorused, leaning over from the Gryffindor table.

"Truly exceptional marauding," Fred agreed.

Rose looked down her nose snottily. "Well, I am the second generation."

The two exchanged wide-eyed looks.

"You know the Marauders?!"

"Do I know the Marauders? Gentlemen, I live with the Marauders."

She caught Harry's eye over their shoulder and grinned as George's knees gave out and he had to be supported by Fred, who's mouth was opening and closing soundlessly. Behind her, she heard Justin whimper. He didn't know who the Marauders were, of course, but anything that made the twins' eyes look like that was something to be feared.


The fallout from that article was enormous. Everyone in the castle was shell-shocked at first, then either adamantly denounced it as lies or embraced their new truth. Slytherin House seemed to have split down the middle, blood purists and non-believers on one side and everyone else on the other. Actually, all Houses seemed split, between those who believed and those who did not.

Harry and Rose watched the chaos in satisfaction. There was nothing they could do to force people to believe them, after all. All they could do was give them the facts and allow them to make their own opinions, which some were doing for the very first time. It was incredible, watching history in the making. Dumbledore, proving her suspicions correct, gave an impassioned speech to the Wizengamot on history's misrepresentation of Slytherin.

"Salazar Slytherin was a champion of muggleborns," Dumbledore had said, his speech broadcasted over the Wireless. "He believed that muggles were dangerous, but times have changed since Slytherin walked the earth. It is time now to shed our prejudices and step forwards into the future."

Harry and Rose honed their reflexes with the amount of dodging and shielding they were forced to do over those first few days. People across the political spectrum were furious, and students were being sent to the hospital wing at an astonishing rate. It only stopped when Dumbledore reprimanded them all at dinner one night, scolding them for turning their backs on their fellow students over what they believed.

(she listened closely, and thought she noticed tendrils of magic woven into his words)

The attacks died down. The Hogwarts Common Room filled back up. Her friends stopped surrounding Rose wherever she went. There were still arguments, and sometimes those arguments got violent, but it wasn't anything worse than what usually happened at Hogwarts. With the shadow of the Chamber gone, it was difficult to be angry about anything for long. In a week, things were back to normal. Rose marvelled at the resiliency of the students.

It helped that the next few front-page articles run by the Prophet were interviews with famous historians, all of whom put their support behind the discovery. Apparently Maitri Asan, an obscure figure in popular culture, was widely known and admired amongst academics. Her being a Parselmouth helped reduce the stigma around it as well – people would still look if she hissed with Macha, but it was much better than it had been when it was first revealed. Ms. Asan was another exception, another Parselmouth who wasn't evil. Given enough time and enough examples, she hoped the stigma would eventually fade.

For now, though, the departure of Binns and the sign she and Harry had posted on the notice board demanded their attention. Professors, now that students were free to go to the library whenever they wanted, began piling back on the homework. The article was soon lost amidst a flood of work, washed away by the waters of daily life.

(Rose wrote a cheque for three hundred galleons and sent it to Skeeter anonymously with a note thanking her for not bugging her, excuse the Muggle idiom, but that was a truly exceptional article – she especially enjoyed how Skeeter had stuck closely to the facts)

(she supposed it had helped to dangle an exclusive interview with Harry Potter in front of her, too)


Having hidden Macha away after Skeeter's article, the occamy was brought back out as soon as Rose was sure it was safe. She was large enough to drape across Rose's shoulders now, like a scarf or cape, around two feet long. Everyone knew about her, and Rose had started a bit of a trend – familiars were uncommon at their age, but not nonexistent. As it turned out, Hufflepuff Prefect Brianna Melton had a raven familiar, whom she'd taken to carrying around on her shoulder whenever it wasn't flying about outside. Hannah's kneazle familiar, Mistletoe, was now allowed to follow the girl around, waiting patiently outside classes in a ball of black fluff. Hannah and Filch struck up a friendship just as unlikely as the one between Mistletoe and Mrs. Norris. Hannah, Rose, and Filch could often be found in odd places around the school, the former two helping him clean what couldn't be done with magic. Familiars weren't allowed in classes though, and many balked at the thought of leaving them unprotected in the corridors, so mostly they stayed in dorms or outside until classes ended and they could rejoin their bonded.

She suspected it was a direct result of the article, but two people had turned out to have snake familiars: Mabel Lyons of Ravenclaw and Katelyn Garrison of Slytherin. They were friends, with the latter in Rose's Ancient Runes class, so they felt comfortable finding her in the Hogwarts Common Room and asking her to translate.

It was interesting to speak to new snakes. Neither of the snakes were magical, so despite the familiar bond boosting their intelligence they weren't quite on Macha's level, which made the occamy feel very superior. Katelyn Garrison was a muggleborn who'd befriended a garden snake a few years ago, and Mabel Lyons a half-blood whose cousin owned a muggle pet shop.

It was odd to have her Parseltongue being treated like a gift instead of something she had to hide. Odd, but nice.


Tracey Davis, Emma Vane, and (to everyone's surprise) Pansy Parkinson were the next few people to join their study group. Davis and Vane were quiet, but Parkinson was surprisingly funny when she wasn't taunting Harry or Rose. She and Lavender Brown, who'd been quiet since Parvati's petrification, seemed to have struck up an unlikely friendship, and could often be found exchanging hair care tips and cosmetic charm advice. Rose joined in a few times and pulled Ginny along with her. It was fun, and she got to pass on more of Andromeda's teachings.

On the topic of Malfoy… Rose had mixed feelings. On one hand, he was a snobby bigot. On the other, he was a twelve-year-old boy with no real friends and who'd nearly died. He'd gotten considerably quieter after Ostara and the Chamber, and though he usually sat with Crabbe and Goyle, the other boys were more followers than friends. Malfoy had always been loud and outspoken, but now he seemed a shell of his former self.

Rose looked at him from the Hufflepuff table and cursed her bleeding heart, but she remembered what it was like to be ostracized and alone. He was a racist arse… but he was also only twelve.

(she remembered the boy who's eyes had stretched wide with wonder at the sight of Macha, the boy who'd cried in bathrooms and found solace in a friendship with a ghost)

(she remembered the boy who couldn't bring himself to kill)

(she remembered the boy who hadn't given her up to Bellatrix Lestrange)

She would try. She owed it to herself – she refused to die with regrets.

(again)

"Don't follow me," she sighed, standing up. Her friends gave her questioning looks that bled into ones of horror when they saw who she was approaching. She glanced back and shrugged apologetically as she stopped behind Malfoy. He was sitting across from Crabbe and Goyle, and there was empty space on either side. Small enough to look accidental, but to a Slytherin must've felt enormous.

"This seat taken?" she asked.

Malfoy glanced up. "I don't want your pity, Potter," he growled.

"I'll take that as a yes," she decided. "Look, I'm not here out of pity."

(I'm here out of guilt)

"I'd like to apologize," she said.

He gave her a suspicious look. "What for?"

Rose stared, incredulous. "I set my familiar on you."

"You saved my life, too."

"Your life only needed to be saved in part because I set my familiar on you. Even my friends were afraid of me after that."

"Don't be a martyring Gryffindor, Potter," Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. "I made my own choices."

"Doesn't mean I didn't influence them. Does that mean you'll let me sit here?"

"… Sure, Potter," Malfoy sighed. "Do whatever you want."

She took that as permission. Hufflepuffs only had Charms with the Slytherins, but Rose made a point of sitting next to Malfoy in every class, chattering away happily. There wasn't a single person who didn't look at her oddly – even Professor Flitwick had done a double take before continuing with the lesson. It was surprisingly fun – Malfoy had all of Blaise's snobbery with all of Theo's snark, when he forgot himself enough to talk to her. It was happening more and more often – for all that she'd set her familiar on him, he'd recently had a near-death experience that tended to diminish everything else in comparison. He'd been isolated before the diadem and was even more isolated afterwards, and lonely people were so easy to collect.

(she thought of Neville, who'd thought he was a squib; of Hermione, who'd never had real friends; of Theo, who'd never expected anyone to see beyond his surname)

(they were her friends now, but everyone began as a tool)


"Afternoon, Malfoy!" Rose chirped. "How's my favorite blond snob doing on this fine afternoon?"

"Resenting being called a blond snob," Malfoy sighed irritably.

"It's not untrue though, is it?" she grinned. Malfoy shot her a poisonous look, but it didn't have any heat to it.

"Why are you doing this, Potter?"

"You're fun," she said simply. "I like fun." And she gave him her best sunshine beam, happy and innocent and glowing.

"I insult you."

"You're fun," Rose repeated. She nudged him with her hip, sitting down next to him. "Now move over, I want to sit."

"Why aren't you sitting with your friends?" he sneered the last word.

"I am!" she chirped. "Pass the strawberries?"

After a week, Malfoy seemed to become resigned to her presence. Her friends accepted it as another one of her schemes. Her acquaintances backed off after a round of he's-not-that-bad-anymore-and-he's-only-twelve, paired with puppy-dog eyes. Malfoy hadn't said the word mudblood since the incident with Macha, after all, which proved he could learn.

She'd asked the Badger Holers how they'd felt about her trying to befriend Malfoy. They'd been uneasy at first, but two days later had finally given her their grudging permission. Surprisingly, it'd been Neville who'd gone first.

"He called me a squib on the train," he'd said quietly. "That's why he and Harry didn't like each other. But… you're a good person, Rose. If you think he can change, then I'll be there with you."

(she thought of the boy crying in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, the boy who'd lied to Bellatrix's face at Malfoy Manor, the boy who couldn't bring himself to kill his headmaster)

"Yes," she'd said. "I think he can."

She and Neville weren't particularly close – the other boy was still shy and more Harry's friend than hers, but she'd been touched by the show of trust. Hermione had followed soon after, and then everyone else had too, so Rose was reassured that she wasn't betraying her current friends in trying to make this new one.

(if there was one thing she was certain of, it was that Lucius Malfoy loved his son)


Dear Miss Potter,

It is my great pleasure to invite you to Oxford University over the summer to aid in the translation of the recently donated Parselscript documents. You would have the privilege of working alongside Maitri Asan, renowned Parselmouth historian from the University of Delhi. Please see enclosed documents for details.

Yours sincerely,

Amira Woodstock

Dean of Oxford University


By Easter, they'd started reviewing for exams in earnest, the Hogwarts Common Room filling to the bursting with tables. Rose pulled out her cue cards and other study materials copied from muggles – she hadn't needed them in first year, but this year she was taking sixth year Ancient Runes and would be taking her NEWT next year. She needed a good foundation, so she'd owl-ordered over a hundred from Quills & Waterstones.

Hermione gasped. "Are those magical cue cards?"

Rose glanced up and given her a confused smile. "Yes? Do they bother you?"

Hermione had shaken her head frantically, curls bouncing. "No, that's not what I meant – I mean, there are magical cue cards? Where did you get them? How do they work? What – "

Harry had looked up at Hermione's outburst, as had several other people.

"Oh, those," Harry grinned. "They're from that Foundation shop, aren't they?"

"Quills & Waterstones," Rose confirmed.

"Waterstones?" Justin repeated. "Like the muggle book chain?"

"One of the heirs is a muggleborn," Rose explained. "Funny how these things work, isn't it?"

"What do you mean 'Foundation shop'?" Hermione asked.

"The Lily Potter Foundation for Muggleborns," Harry explained, uncharacteristically shy. "Sirius set it up soon after the war. It gives muggleborns business loans and grants, helps fund Masteries, that sort of thing."

It was also where the proceeds from the Boy-Who-Lived paraphernalia went, but Harry didn't mention it and Rose followed his lead.

"Oh, that's wonderful," Hermione had said breathlessly.

That had led to Rose explaining how the cue cards worked and exactly how they differed from muggle ones (the tap-and-search feature, shuffling, things like that), and had by the end of her impromptu lecture a number of classmates scribbling off a whole host of owl-order forms to Quills & Waterstones. Hermione had looked so excited she'd nearly been brought to tears.

"This is going to be so useful for memorization!" she'd squealed. "Oh, I've missed my cue cards so much, thank you, Rose – "

"I didn't even do anything," she'd laughed. "Thank the owner of Quills & Waterstones if you really must."

(Parkinson, at Vane's prodding, had grudgingly admitted that muggles really could have good ideas occasionally)


With the arrival of Easter holidays came also the picking of electives. Rose wanted to discourage Hermione from doing all of them but, well, it wasn't really any of her business what Hermione chose to do, was it? She'd just be there to make sure her friend got enough to eat and sleep and take care of her as best as she could.

Rose had had to ask Professor Sprout questions about her electives, seeing as she was taking Ancient Runes already. Her Head of House had given her a fond smile and told her that, seeing as she was already taking an elective and had weekly meetings with Madam Pomphrey, it would probably be best to keep herself to one additional elective. Rose had agreed and chosen Arithmancy on the spot. The magic of numbers and spell-crafting was fascinating – she had very, very vague memories of Hermione buzzing over the arithmantic deconstruction of wingardium leviosa. Besides, she wanted to learn silent spells again – the things were dead useful but took quite a bit of time to overcome the initial barrier, so she'd need free time for extracurricular studies next year. Hopefully it'd be easier this time around because of her occlumency – honestly, it ought to be a mandatory subject, it made everything so much easier. Her memory was sharper, her emotions less muddled; the only downside was the sheer amount of time it took.

(unless one chose to brute-force it like Snape had done with her in her fifth year, but that came with the side effects of feeling violated and awful headaches)

Harry signed up for Care of Magical Creatures, alongside Neville, Susan, Hermione, and Hannah. He'd also be joining her in Arithmancy, and it seemed her studying Runes had compelled a great deal of her study group to take it as well. It was nice, to have had such an influence on her yearmates.


(but things couldn't be that easy, could they?)


"Rose?" A confused-looking Ginny Weasley tapped her on the shoulder. Rose turned, cutting off her conversation with Lisa Turpin, and glanced at her.

"Ginny? How can I help you?"

"The Headmaster's called you up to his office," Ginny told her, frowning.

Rose blinked. "Oh, alright. Thanks, Ginny."

She grabbed her bag and stuffed her things hastily inside, waving a quick goodbye to her friends before leaving the Hogwarts Common Room. Honestly, she'd been expecting something like this ever since she'd started sitting with Slytherins. She wondered what had done him in – replacing Binns? No, that was widely accepted. Clearing Slytherin's name? Maybe. Advocating for a Wixen Culture class? … Almost definitely.

Better get Sprout. In loco parentis, after all. She liked Dumbledore – he was funny – but she didn't trust him as far as she could throw him.


"Peppermint humbugs," Professor Sprout told the stone griffin. It turned, allowing them up the spiral staircase. Rose knocked on the door.

"Ah, Miss Potter, come in! Pomona – what a pleasant surprise," Dumbledore smiled. "Please, have a seat." He conjured another floral chintz armchair alongside the one in front of his desk. Rose stepped into the familiar, circular room, silver instruments whizzing and twirling away as the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses whispered in their frames. She waved at Phineas Nigellas Black, who smiled back pompously, and sent a grin at Fawkes when the phoenix chirped in greeting. He looked magnificent today, all red and gold feathers and glowing amber eyes.

"Thank you, Professor," Rose said politely, sinking into her armchair. Beside her, Sprout did the same, folding her hands neatly in front of her. "May I ask what this is about?"

"Of course, of course," Dumbledore twinkled. "Forgive an old man his forgetfulness. I just wanted to have a little chat, Miss Potter."

"About what, sir?"

"Well, I've noticed that neither yourself nor your brother chose to take Divination," he said, popping a lemon drop into his mouth. "We're very lucky to have Professor Trelawney, you know – " Sprout coughed "- but of course Arithmancy is a worthy pursuit as well."

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Professor," Rose said, keeping her hands from clenching into fists through sheer force of will. "Professor Sprout's already approved my elective choices. Is there a problem?"

"There shouldn't be," Professor Sprout said sharply, narrowing her eyes. Rose bit back a smile.

"No, no, not at all," Dumbledore said. "Everything is in order. I just wondered if perhaps you were labouring under misconceptions when it comes to Divination – a number of our students do."

"What misconceptions, sir?" Rose asked, curious despite herself. There was just something about Dumbledore's affable demeanor that drew her in, made her trust him –

She clamped down on her occlumency shields, suddenly cold. That – had Dumbledore been using voice magic on her? That had felt eerily like what she remembered of the confrontation with diadem-Voldemort. She felt suddenly very small and exposed without Harry by her side and took some small amount of comfort in Professor Sprout. There was, at least, one person here who wanted the best for her.

She pulled her concentration back to the conversation – she couldn't let on that she'd noticed, or even guessed. Rose straightened in her seat and leaned forwards, careful to avoid Dumbledore's gentle eyes, feeling betrayed.

("It reminds me too much of the Imperius curse," Harry had said uneasily. "I'll use it if I have to, but if I can avoid it…")

No. That was for later. For now, she had to get through this conversation.

"Well," Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair and peering at her over half-moon spectacles, "for one, students often believe that only true Seers gain anything from Divination."

"Don't they, sir?"

"On the contrary," Dumbledore said, eyes sparkling. He looked genuinely pleased at the opportunity to impart new knowledge, and she felt a pang of loss. What could he have become, if he hadn't gotten so involved in politics? If he hadn't…

But he was still speaking.

"Divination, although imprecise," and here Professor Sprout snorted derisively, "is nonetheless a valid branch of magic. You've covered, I'm sure, the topic of magical cores and auras in your classes?"

"Yes, sir," Rose confirmed. Each wix produced their own magic, via a mechanism not yet known, storing it in what was referred to as a magical core. One's aura was an extension of that core. There was a way to measure its strength and affinity – Light, Dark, or Grey – but it was highly invasive and painful, so it was only done when absolutely necessary.

"One of the prevailing magical theories at the moment is that magic is probability," Dumbledore said. "In manipulating our magic, we manipulate probability. For instance, in casting a levitation charm, we supply an external source of energy that rearranges the very molecules of an object, changing their trajectories. It follows, then, that the magic we exude through our auras affects divination foci in such a way as to show our own probabilities."

Rose stared, just barely remembering not to meet his eyes. That was…

"That's brilliant," she breathed, eyes alight with wonder. "But if magic is probability, then shouldn't there be a chance for even a perfectly-cast spell to fail?"

"Just as there is a chance that our molecules will arrange in such a way that this deluminator," and here Dumbledore tapped a silver instrument Rose pretended not to recognize, "falls straight through this desk?"

"It is possible," Rose murmured in understanding. "But just because it's possible – "

"Does not mean it is probable," Dumbledore finished, smiling. "You understand, I take it?"

"Yes, I understand," Rose said, not bothering to hide her awe. Magic truly was incredible. "But sir… I don't know if I can give up Arithmancy for Divination, no matter how interesting it is. I'm already going to have a NEWT next year, and I've got my weekly lessons with Madam Pomphrey."

"I urge you to try it out, at the very least, Miss Potter," Dumbledore said softly. "This is an excellent opportunity for you to expand your horizons."

That brought Rose back to earth. She blinked, thoughts clearing of residual wonder, mind whirring. If she refused, Dumbledore would likely just try again, only with Harry, and she wanted her brother to spend as little time around the Headmaster as possible. Besides, Dumbledore was an excellent manipulator – he knew exactly how to elicit her wonder, her awe of magic, to draw her in. She really did want to take Divination now, damn it all.

"Miss Potter," Professor Sprout began, sounding affronted. "You've a heavy workload already. You don't have to do anything – "

"It's alright, Professor," Rose said, smiling at her Head of House. "I'll find the time somehow, I imagine."

"Ah," Dumbledore said, beaming happily. "Speaking of time…"

A/N: urgh, sorry this is so choppy :') next one's better, I promise!