Harry Potter and the Serpent's Rebellion
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is mine! Yeah right.
Summary: What is the reason behind Harry's uncanny resemblance to Tom Riddle?
Dark secrets about his heritage are about to be uncovered...
Author Notes: I was feeling guilty that I left you hanging there, so I decided to update quickly! I noticed that many authors have a yahoo group to tell their readers when they have updated. Would it be helpful to you if I started one?
Chapter Eight: Guiding Dreams"Potter, what are you playing at?" Snape hissed in fury, "Did the headmaster allow you to go on this foolish suicide mission?"
"Dumbledore gave his reluctant permission to save your ungrateful arse, 'Professor'. I would think you could be a little more grateful. I am the only reason you are not already dead," Harry retorted. "Besides," he added, "Voldemort made the mistake of overlooking portkeys before, so we hoped he would do that again."
"Just like a Gryffindor, always thrusting your big head where it doesn't belong," Snape growled out. "Brilliant job you're doing, now that we're both stuck in this cell."
Harry sighed in exasperation. "Look, we're getting nowhere with our petty arguments. Since we are so 'conveniently' placed in the same cell, we should put our heads together and think of a plan to get out of here."
"What do you propose we do? Dissolve into the air particles and float through the bars? Give me a break, Potter. I've had enough of your nonsense for one day," Snape sneered, "If you'll excuse me, I'd like some rest before we get tortured into insanity." With that, Snape withdrew to the corner of the cell farthest away from Harry and leaned his back against the wall.
All alone with his thoughts now, Harry could not but wonder what would happen to them now. Would Voldemort still harbour the hope that Harry would join him, or would he be slaughtered immediately? Harry snorted. He doubted Voldemort would let him die painlessly, son or not. He would undoubtedly have some fun with a crucio or two.
Finally, with his mind whirling, Harry's exhausted body drifted into an uneasy sleep.
He felt icy fog swirling around him. Where was he? He could decipher the vague shape of a looming castle in the distance. Was that Hogwarts? It somehow looked even larger and more spectacular than his beloved school.
The mist dissolved, and he saw a path leading up to the castle. He began to follow it, thinking vaguely of asking for directions from the inhabitants of the fortress.
After ten minutes of squinting through the freezing mist, he finally arrived at the large moat surrounding the castle. Great, now what could he do?
The drawbridge suddenly fell down at his feet. Harry was so surprised he gave a small yelp. Walking across the bridge, the looming front doors opened on it's own. It was almost as if someone was expecting him…
The entrance hall was furnished in forest green and sparkling silver. Whoever owned this place was definitely Slytherin, judging by the large, intricate carving of a serpent on the wooden ceiling.
"Hello," a man's smooth, baritone voice reached his ears, Heart hammering, Harry whirled around to face his host. "Welcome to my castle."
The man was very tall, yet thin and agile looking. He had long black hair and a beard, with silver streaks in both. His shrewd green eyes were not unalike Harry's own. The stranger's green robes were silken and expensive looking. The expression on his thin was kind, however. All in all, he looked the part as master of the magnificent castle.
"W-who are you? What am I doing here?" Harry stammered. This man gave off an aura of inexplicable power, even more so than Dumbledore. He could not help but be in awe.
The man frowned. "I would think that you would at least learn to recognize the founders of Hogwarts," he sighed, "but alas, I fear I am far from the good graces of the students there now. I hope you will chance that, my heir."
Suddenly, Harry put two and two together…Hogwarts founder, silver and green snake… "Salazar Slytherin!"
Slytherin smiled. "It certainly took you long enough to figure that out, my boy. I feel the statues built in your father's Chamber of Secrets do not do justice to my marvellous features."
Harry personally agreed, recalling the scowling stone heads in the gloomy chamber. Wait a second, his father's chamber? "What do you mean my father's Chamber of Secrets, Mr. Slytherin? Didn't you build that?"
Slytherin sneered contemptuously. "Oh, that Riddle was a clever one. Building a weapon of mass homicide in my name indeed. That ridiculous legend was just something our disciplinarians used to scare students in detention. I certainly thought that muggleborn would draw unwanted attention to the school, but I never hated them. I merely left the school to start my own school, Durmstrang, when Godric and I had that silly little fight over it. The students around Bulgaria were just not up to the standards as the ones I was used to at Hogwarts, however…"
Harry stared in amazement. So it had been Voldemort who had built the chamber, he should have known. However, one question was still plaguing his mind. He cleared his throat. "Er… Mr. Slytherin, I'm sorry to interrupt, but that still doesn't explain why you brought me here."
"Please call me Salazar, Harry. It makes me feel much younger. Ah, yes. How rude of me, I just get carried away with the loss of my popularity because of that foolish boy who styles himself Lord."
Slytherin smiled fondly at Harry, rather like a grandfather surveying a long-lost grandson. "You, my boy, are different from your father. You have his intelligence, cunning and ambition, along with a streak of Gryffindor bravery."
His face gained looked of nostalgic reminiscence. "In fact, you remind me a bit of my best friend, Godric." Slytherin laughed at the expression of surprise on Harry's face. "I think many took our many fights and duels much too seriously. Our personalities often clashed, and we both had too much power at our disposal," he said, grinning at the memories.
"Although you are not the true heir of Gryffindor, I think one of your mother's ancestors was a squib cousin of Godric's. With Gryffindor and Slytherin blood combined, you are one heir to be proud of!" Harry cleared his throat, and Slytherin was reminded of the question he had yet to answer.
"O right…the old founder said sheepishly. Well, the main reason I have brought you here is to help you escape the dreadful cell your father is keeping you and that other man in. I am rather fond of Severus, he contributed many a house cup to my noble house. Not that I don't want to rescue you, of course," he added quickly.
"How will you help us escape?" Harry inquired.
"Well, every time you come back to my castle, I will teach you some new magic to help you survive, and eventually escape."
"Wow, er, I don't know how to thank you," Harry said in amazement.
"There is no need to thank me. I want Riddle gone as much as you do. Now, I think we will start with wandless healing spells today. They are quite easy for a beginner to learn."
Two hours later, Harry found out that easy in Salazar's eyes meant extremely difficult and tiring to him. Finally, he had gotten the spells right. He could now heal cuts, concussions, broken bones, and post-crutiatus effects and mild internal bleeding to a certain extent. "Well, I think you have done a marvellous job for today, Harry. We'll probably have to work on it some more another day," Slytherin proclaimed.
He could dimly hear Snape's voice in the distance, as though from a badly tuned radio. "I think it is time for you to leave now. Remember to practice those spells!" Slytherin's voice grew fainter and fainter…
"Potter, are you awake yet? I refuse to spend my time yelling aimlessly in your ear." Snape's irritated voice was the first thing he heard as he jerked into reality.
His eyes shot wide open, suddenly remembering his dream. "Professor! Salazar Slytherin, he said he would help us get out of here, he taught me…"
Snape groaned and rolled his eyes. First stubbornness, now delirium. He frowned, putting a hand on the boy's forhead. Strange, he wasn't warm at all.
"I'm NOT mad, Professor! Here, I'll show you." Closing his eyes, he concentrated on Snape.
Suddenly, the cuts and bruises healed, and the potion's professor felt his head clear of this pounding headache. The pain of the cruciatus also faded with the glow coming from the boy's fingers.
Staring in disbelief, Snape asked a very un-Snape-like question, "How did you do that?"
The boy whipped around to stare at the cell door, hushing him. "Someone's coming."