He sat at his desk with a quill in hand. A book was in front, its blank pages intimidating him. The ink container was full and the quill had no ink on it. A fire sat in the corner of the room, shining light. Dipping the quill in the ink, he wrote with clean strokes. He paused, before writing a final mark. The first entry was written.

Salazar Slytherin 1st of January 979 BC

I always dreamed of living forever, but each method required human sacrifices. Today, I think I have found a solution to this problem. It also allows my friends to come with me. Though I fear once I take it, I will not remember this life.

Once I make the potion, it will hopefully have me reincarnated in a thousand years as a baby. The knowledge that I could experience in a thousand years excites me!

Those who find this book, I am Salazar Slytherin, one of the founders of Hogwarts. The other founders and I will create a fake scenario of our leaving because this potion should never again be put in the wrong hands. Though, something tells me I must do this; to put my experiences on parchment. I now take my leave to tell my fellow founders about my discovery. A discovery that will change the world.

Salazar put the quill down and exited the darkly lit room. A slight smile was on his face at the memories of his founders. Hopefully, they will follow the plan...even if it makes him out as a bad guy.

Salazar Slytherin 19th of September 979 BC

It was a bit of a struggle, but the others agreed. Rowena decided to take it today as her eagerness for knowledge pushed aside her caution... I am going to miss her. With her rants and her ambitions to be smarter. Her frizzy hair and brown eyes. She's a sister to me in all but blood. I will miss her a lot. Oh, she was an outstanding teacher and an even better learner. Cræftgléaw, our school, will forever miss her. One might suspect that I love her; many people bet that I would get together with her. Those days were good but were soon followed by the bad. I will not go into detail now; read the past entries to understand.

Salazar Slytherin 1st of March 980 BC

Another founder took the potion. Godric Gryffindor. My lover, one that always stood by my side. I will miss him much, for his bravery and honor were adorable. His red hair with freckles seems to never disappear. Oh, my sweet, sweet, Godric. The lover that has always stood by my opinions and lets me see my wrongdoings. His facts made me see the error of my way. Sometimes, even if he's a Gryffindor, I would think he would be a Ravenclaw with his strategic thinking and random facts. Hah! Now I'm referring to them as their houses like our students.

Salazar Slytherin 31st of July 980 BC

I am going to take the potion today—the potion for the next chance of life. I miss Godric too much to last much longer, but today I planned to take it. Wish me luck. The potion will make me reincarnate in a thousand years exactly.

Helga is going to wait a year on March 11th. She was the sister of Godric but took up the reins of the Hufflepuff house, a matriarch line. Now, it is time for me to greet another life. Hopefully, I can find this in my next life. This journal of my life, so I can remember those who I might forget.

Salazar set his pen down while closing the book. The potion on his desk stood still, waiting for its maker to drink it. And drink he did. Taking big gulps down. He choked and fell dead. Soon after his body disappeared, never to be found. The only thing left was his journal and legacy. A legacy that was going to be tainted. Blood and traitors will forever tarnish the tremendous and powerful Slytherin line.

(JULY 31ST, 1980; St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries)

A baby cried when he went out of the womb. A cry full of sorrow a baby shouldn't have. Yet happiness filled his eyes, and his thoughts yelled, it worked!

What worked? The world asked, but there was no answer, just a cry of happiness. What worked? They asked again, and again there was no answer. What worked? Mother Gaia asked a third time, and an answer sprouted from the baby's thoughts.

Mother Magic gave me a second chance with my fellow founders! The baby cried out. Instantly, Mother Gaia knew what happened. Her smile, the sun, shined, and she had hope for Mother Magic again. SHE won't die when THEY are here. THEY will save HER.

"What will you name him?" The healer asked with an air of joy at seeing the baby.

"Hadrian Potter, a powerful name for a healthy boy." The father said with happiness in his eyes.

"We can call him Harry if we want to." The mother said with a stance of exhaustion.

"Go to sleep Lily, you just pushed a baby out of your body." The father said, noticing the exhaustion. Lily smiled at her lover and slept.

The baby looked at his new parents fondly, not understanding a word of this new language.

(OCTOBER 31ST, 1981; GODRIC'S HOLLOW)

Time passed, and Hadrian slowly understood the words they said. He always did have a knack for languages. They were a wonderful family and thrilled to have him.

Yet, when the old man came, their smile lines disappeared, and stress appeared. They moved away from the mansion they inherited and went into a little cottage.

"It's him! Go! I'll hold him off!" The father yelled with determination. This tossed Hadrian's mind off the path of reminiscing. The father had messy black hair and determined hazel eyes. This was before he remembered that he forgot his wand. A man, who seemed more snake-like, entered the small house. No hair was on his scalp, and he had no nose. This was Voldemort, Tom Marvolo Riddle, the last descendent of Salazar Slytherin.

(Or he thinks.)

"You are a disgrace to Purebloods everywhere," Voldemort said to the father while shooting a green light from his wand. The father fell down, limp, and dead. The snake-like man went up the stairs with malicious glee in his red eyes. He (was this snake-like human a man?) turned to the left and soon met with the sight of a woman—a woman with bright red hair and green eyes.

"Step aside." The snake-like man said, offering the woman a chance.

"Spare my baby! Kill me, but spare my son!" The mother said.

"Step aside, girl!" Voldemort shouted with impatience.

"Kill me, just not my son!" The mother begged again.

"I ask you one more time, step aside!"

"Kill me and spare my baby!"

Greenlight enveloped the woman, and she fell limp. Voldemort stepped over the body lazily, like he has done thousands of times before. A babysat in a crib, and Voldemort looked disgusted. He was never fond of babies; their screams and cries have always irritated him. Yet, the baby seemed to stare at his very soul. Well, what's left of it, anyway. It was unnerving with its intense gaze and mature air. So, with a sorry-not-sorry look, he finally shouted, "Avada Kedavra!" And a green light went out of his wand, yet something strange happened this time. It bounced back to its caster.

Tom Marvolo Riddle turned to ashes with the last scream, and his soul escaped with no sanity left.

(NOVEMBER 1ST, 1981; NUMBER 4 PRIVET DRIVE)

In a house, one that seemed very normal, an ordinary family slept. Almost too normal. Everything they did seemed animated and normal. That day was not normal, though. Owls flooded the sky, and strange things were all over the news. So, for the family, it disturbed their everyday lifestyle. This family would be the last person in anyone's mind to have anything to do with the owls in the sky or even the stiff cat on the brick wall. They weren't into such nonsense. They were the opposite of abnormal.

The father of the family, Mr. Dursley, was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he had a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley, and in their opinion, there was no finer boy anywhere. (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone: Chapter 1)

The Dursleys were the most perfect family out there. Yet, they have a secret. One that they fear will get out. It was a strange secret. One that would ruin their perfect facade of normalcy. It would tear it down until they had to start all over again. This secret was the Potters, a strange family that does odd things.

How is this their secret? Well, the mother of the Dursley family was the sister of a Potter. Petunia Dursley's maiden name was Evans and her sister, Lily Evans, became Lily Potter. She was a witch, one born from ordinary humans. So, this was a dangerous secret for this family. They never wanted it to get out, or it would doom them. But when owls flooded the skies, they just knew it had to be connected with the Potters. It was a gut feeling, and they learned to trust it. They always knew to trust a gut feeling. It saved them from the magic that wanted to plague their lives.

When Mr. Dursley started driving to work, trying to ignore strange things, he saw many funny-looking people. People that had cloaks, robes that seemed old-fashioned. It wasn't normal behavior. But Mr. Dursley waved it off as some new fashion statement that young people wore. Yet, these people aren't that much younger than him. There is even one that is older than him with an emerald cloak!

The traffic jam disappeared, and his car moved again. Soon, he was in the Grunnings parking lot with his mind back on drills. He entered the building.

Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl, even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning; he yelled at five different people, and he made several important telephone calls and shouted more. He was in an excellent mood until lunchtime when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the bakers. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch was whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard, yes, their son, Harry." (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone: Chapter 1)

After he heard that, he called his wife. Then he thought. There are a bunch of Potters! And he's sure their nephew's (he thinks with disgust) name is not Harry. So, it couldn't be his nephew. So, he set the phone down and drove back to #4 Privet Drive. When he came home, he watched the news.

The news had stories of owls flying around and shooting stars with people with cloaks. Now, this is when his heart stopped. What if this was with their crowd?

Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er — Petunia, dear — you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"

As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. They usually pretended she didn't have a sister.

"No," she said sharply. "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."

"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.

"Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you know... her crowd."

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead, he said, as casually as he could, "Their son — he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"

"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree." (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone: Chapter 1)

That night, the couple slept restlessly, all their thoughts on their sister/sister-in-law's crowd.

That same night, an old man named Albus Dumbledore set a baby by the name of Harry Potter on their doorstep. Only a note and no blanket were there as he left.

And all over Wizarding Britain, people cheered the name of a baby. For this baby defeated the greatest Dark Lord. So, holding their glasses up, they all cheered in hushed voices, "To Harry Potter - the boy who lived!"