Disclaimer: All of Harry Potter belongs to Ms. J K Rowling. I am but borrowing the plot, using it to create another story.

Note: I've made some changes to the previous chapter, concerning the months. I wanted to add something about Harry's birthday, and realized from a reviewer that three months would mean September was near!

~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

In destroying him, I've met my fall

Chapter 2

"Dammit Godric! Get him out of me! AH!" The black-haired man yelled, his emerald green eyes filled with pain as strong, tanned hands braced the screaming man's arms in an attempt to keep him from moving too much. Two women, standing by the four-poster bed, just glanced at one another, and rolled their eyes in exasperation as they continued on with their work.

"Sala, it might not be a he." A black-haired lady reminded the man whilst placing a basin of warm water at the sidetable beside her. Turning over to her friend, she passed Godric a damp cloth to wipe away the sweat on the laboring man's forehead, knowing that the golden-haired lord was worried despite his seemingly calm demeanor. The last lady, a blonde who was standing at the end of the bed, just murmured absently, amber eyes distracted, "It's a she, Salazar. Rowena, can you help me get another cloth? This one's soaked with blood. And Salazar, breathe. Then push!"

"I'm pushing, woman!" The black-haired man, Salazar, growled before biting his lip to keep from screaming out once more. Godric, noticing this, forcefully opened his mouth and placed his arm into it instead, murmuring softly, "Don't hurt yourself like that, Sala."

Said man just remained helpless, as the contractions came again, this time stronger than before. Without a choice, he bit into Godric's arm, drawing blood that streaked his mouth red. Not caring about his arm, Godric gazed at Salazar's pale form and asked anxiously, "Helga, can't you give him some numbing potion?"

"Don't be silly, Godric. He would not be able to feel anything!" The blonde lady tutted in annoyance. It wasn't everyday that she had to deal with male pregnancy, and Godric was starting to get into her nerves.

"That's exactly the point! To not feel anything!" The golden-haired man retorted, worried that his beloved would not be able to take it anymore.

"Godric," Helga started, her patience running thin, "If he's numb, he won't feel anything. And if he doesn't feel anything, he won't know if he's pushing. Then, the child would not be birthed!" Turning over to the man in question, she continued gently, "Salazar, I can see the child's head. Now, when the next contraction comes, I need you to push real hard."

The pale man just nodded weakly, blanching as the next bout of contractions came. Biting into Godric's arm, he pushed, hard, and screamed as the child head came out. In the next second, the body slided out with ease and an infant's wailing could be heard echoing in the large bedchamber, much to the anticipation of the women present.

Cradling the young infant, Helga Hufflepuff cut off the umbilical cord and tied it swiftly before carefully wiping the blood off the child, not daring to use any magic to do the job. Then, carefully wrapping the child in a fluffy towel, she smiled, bringing the child over to her parents.

"You have a lovely daughter, Salar, Godric." The lady smiled, placing the child carefully into Salazar's arms. Tufts of black hair could already be seen on the child's head, and though young, the delicate features on her face was distinct enough to know that she would be a beauty in years to come. The infant's eyes were closed, but all four of them, being masters of their separate elements, knew what color they were.

"She has your eyes, Salazar." Rowena said softly, sapphire eyes filled with wonder.

Godric, in turn, closed his eyes in relief, thankful that both of them were safe. Giving his bonded a gentle kiss on the forehead, the golden lord traced the infant's cheek with a finger in awe, "We have a daughter."

Salazar just smiled slightly, enjoying the feel of the child snuggling in his arms. Surprisingly, the child had quietened when placed in her 'mother's' arms, and was now sleeping peacefully as the others looked on.

"What are you going to name her?" Helga inquired, a scroll in hand as she waited the parents' answer. Godric glanced at Salazar, knowing that he already had a name in mind. Kissing the child's forehead, the black-haired man replied tenderly, "She will be Sandrilene Helene Slytherin Gryffindor."

Writing down the name with a flourish, the blonde muttered some words, sealing the birth certificate before dismissing it with a wave of her hand whilst Rowena went over to the young child.

"Well, Sandrilene. Welcome to Hogwarts."

~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Harry Potter awoke with a start, bathed in cold sweat as he tried to make out what the dream had meant.

No one mentioned that Slytherin and Gryffindor had a child! And that name... the voices had called me that before!

Shivering at the coincidence, he clutched his threadbare blanket tighter about himself, glancing at the clock by the corner of his bed. It was 10:40... An hour more, and he would turn seventeen.

Noticing a slight noise by the study table, the black-haired boy padded over to Hedwig, who was getting restless in her cage. It was only then did he realize that he had not let the owl out for her nightly hunt, and apologetically, Harry opened the lock, ruffling the white feathers gently, "Sorry Hedwig. I've forgotten about that. Here, go get some game for yourself." With that, the owl nipped his arm in affection before flying out of the room, leaving her master to head for the bathroom in silence.

It had taken Harry quite some time to get to the bathroom, what with his sprained left ankle and all... but it was when he entered the room was the full extent of his injuries shown. Sitting on a stool, the black-haired boy untied the torn cloth, revealing a broken piece of wood that settled as a makeshift crutch for his dislocated right wrist - one that had been in this state since three weeks ago. The skin was swollen, and the bone could be seen jutting out at a slight angle, pushing against the skin.

His back was a criss-cross mosaic of red welts, with colorful bruises healing at different stages. His body had never healed entirely before he came back from Hogwarts, and now, the treatment by the Dursleys - Vernon in particular - had worsened their conditions. Not surprising, bones broken tend to break more easily, and Vernon's punches weren't exactly merciful. That, along with the meagre pensions of food, had made the already thin boy severely malnutritioned, which in turn, had seemed to stunt his growth, seeing as he was already sixteen and yet, was only 168cm tall.

Carefully, the boy washed the grime off the injured wrist - he had been made to do weeding that evening - ignoring the red whip marks on his arms. Vernon Dursley was getting crueler throughout the summer, and this could be seen by the injuries he now sustained. The man knew that Harry had dislocated his wrist, and broken several bones, but still, he never bothered to bring him for medical treatment. Instead, the tasks assigned to the boy never ceased, and Harry continued doing them quietly despite the mistreatment.

Looking up at the mirror, the hero of the Wizarding World grimaced. One of his eyes spotted a bruise where Dudley backhanded him during dinner, and one cheek was still red where Aunt Petunia slapped him for not doing the shepherd's pie to perfection. It seemed as if nothing he did would satisfy them anymore, and hitting him has become a sport the Dursleys seem addicted to.

Limping back to his room, preoccupied by thoughts of why he was enduring all these silently, the Gryffindor was pleasantly surprised by a small stack of presents by the bed. So, someone did remember my birthday.

The smile that he held grew wider on seeing the Weasley's family owl Errol, settling on the perch of the window with Hedwig and an unfamiliar tawny owl. All of them seemed quiet, hooting only occassionally, as if conversing with one another and Harry passed some dried fruit over to the owls - food that he'd filched earlier on, whispering softly, "Sorry, I've got nothing much today..." Like I'd any for the entire summer.The boy thought sardonically as he ruffled the unfamiliar owl's feathers, "Haven't seen you around, have I?"

The owl nodded, his beak pointing towards the direction of the gifts. Harry raised an eyebrow, asking aloud, "You brought that big box of stuff alone?"

As if understanding his words, the owl nodded proudly, earning another smile from the boy.

"Thanks."

Walking over to his bed, Harry picked up one of the packages, and tore away the brown canvas wrapping, opening the white envelope carefully. He never thought that the Weasleys' would remember his birthday, seeing as they were still grieving over Ron's death, and with trembling hands, unfolded the letter.

Dear Harry,

This is Gred and Forge saying Happy Birthday!

Yep, Mum wanted us to write this instead... seeing as she knew not what to say. She's still mourning over Ron, you know, and about Ginny. She hasn't woke up yet... Ginny's still in Hogwarts, last time we saw, and Snape was also in a coma too! Too bad we did not bring that color-changing potion along. We'd love to see that git's hair go neon pink!

Well, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes just had their first store opened last week, in Diagon Alley. We wanted to invite you along, what with you're the grand investor of our works, but Mom and Dad wanted you to get some rest. What we feel is that they do not want you to be exposed to the crowd of people wanting to see you in person. You'd think that after what you've done, they'd finally give you some peace, but no. They just have to see you, shake you hand, go on crapping about how wonderful you are. Those niceties can be done without. We - our family that is - do know that we want you to have a break from all this... Ron had told us about how you hate the publicity. So, next time when you go out to Hogsmeade, or Diagon Alley, just ask them to f...

Sorry, Harry. That had been George writing. Don't bother about deciphering the last part. Anyway, we've packed a box of our inventions into your present. You can try it on your cousin! I guarantee the effects will be very interesting! Mom has also baked a lot of muffins and cookies inside, aside from the regular pies and fudge. Try not to stuff them down your mouth too soon, they're rather rich - in the food sense of course, and too much of them will make your stomach queasy. Eww... I'm starting to sound like mom...

Haha, Fred's becoming soft! Anyway Harry, would you like to come over to our home for the last two weeks before school reopens? We've graduated, but it's still nice to send you over to the platform if you want us to... we'd be like brothers? What say you about that?

Reply soon!

Your partners in crime

'Gred and Forge', Fred and George Weasley.

Harry smiled sadly, knowing that it was albeit impossible for him to go over to the Weasleys' this year. It wasn't because of the Dursleys... his heart still hurt too much to go back to the Burrow, where he could feel Ron's presence so imminently in the air. Even Ginny too, hadn't awoken from the last backlash, and this was a big worry to the Weasleys. Despite the light tone in the letter, it was evident that Mrs. Weasley was still upset over Ginny, and Mr. Weasley was too busy in the Ministry due to the post-war period, where a lot of reformation was still going on, to stay with her to mourn over their youngest boy's death.

With a heavy heart, he wrote a polite declination to the twins' offer of staying at their home, but congratulated them genuinely for the opening of the first shop. In fact, the ruly-haired boy was sure that those two will bring galleons into their shop with their ingenuity and humorous gags. Not surprising, they already had many people laughing during their Hogwarts years, especially when they made the Slytherins hair turn bright green with one of the sweets, and the teachers all spotted royal purple robes with orange polka dots.

Pushing the hilarious thought aside, he opened another parcel, the largest one which the unfamiliar owl had brought, and grinned at what it held. It was a box full of muggle clothes and other useful muggle stuff, from a swiss knife to odd and ends like belts, a watch and some knick-knacks. Without a doubt, it was gifted from Hermione. Fishing out the letter, he read eagerly.

Dear Harry,

First of all, this is Pyre's first flight, so I hope the present has gotten to you in one piece! Well, the Dursleys better not be mistreating you in any way. Last summer hadn't been quite a fun one, and my hands had been itching to strangle your uncle since you've talked about the chores you had to do. Or maybe I could put our studies to practice! I know my dagger-throwing skills have improved a lot, Professor Moody said so himself! One knife would be enough to end his life... Eww, I'm starting to sound like an assassin.

Hm... enough talking about that. Surprised by the present? I should hope so... it is definitely different from what I usually give you. Books. Hee, anyways, I'm rather sure that your relatives would not bother to buy any new clothes for you this year. So, I got my mother to go shop for boys' clothes at downtown London.

Imagine my embarassment when I told my mom that I'm getting clothes for my best friend. Don't worry, I just told her that you did not have the time this year to get them yourself, seeing how you need all the rest you can get. She's still sympathetic about what our world has gone through...

Well, sad thoughts aside, I hope that those clothes do fit you. If not, you can just shrink it later when we reach school. (No magic out of school, remember?) I bought those belts just in case you might need you. The other things, you can figure out yourself. The knife is quite useful for outdoor work, but mind you, it's sharp. Be careful when you handle it!

I'll be heading over to the Leaky Cauldron in the last week of the holidays. Dad has given me extra allowance to stay there for the days before school reopens. I'm wondering if you'd want to come by? I could help tutor you in whatever subject you're still lagging in. If not, I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express on September 1st!

Love,

Hermione

P/S: Remember to do your homework!

P/P/S: I'm Head Girl!

It had been an unofficial fact amongst the Gryffindors that Hermione would eventually become Head Girl, but actually hearing the news from her brought another grin onto the boy's face. Indeed, he was truly happy for Hermione, for he, and Ron, had known how much she wished to become the Head Girl of their level, to prove (previously) to Draco and his goons that a 'mudblood' could best the purebloods academically. However, after their so-called truce when Draco turned over to the light, it was more of an aim that she couldn't put off.

Writing back to Hermione was fairly easy. He thanked her for the gifts, and agreed to meeting one week earlier at the Leaky Cauldron to have some time off together. Goodness knows how much he missed their late night talks while Voldemort was still wreaking havoc in the Wizarding World. Hermione was a very good counsellor, and had given him quite a few heart-felt advice when he could no longer cope with the stress building inside him. She and Ron had been the pillar that supported him throughout the war, and now, with Ron gone, she was the only one he could rely on from help, and the sisterly love she freely gave the compassion-starved boy helped him alot.

"So, you're Pyre?" Harry asked, carefully tying the rolled up parchment onto one of his talons. The owl hooted, glad that the boy finally knew his name, and Harry continued, "Give this back to your mistress, and thank you." He ruffled the owl's feathers one last time before the night creature flew off into the darkness, leaving only Hedwig alone with him.

This time, with Hedwig on his lap, he opened the last gift, a leather bound photo album. Flipping over to the next page, tears started gathering in those wide emerald orbs.

It had been taken on his last birthday, which had been celebrated at the Burrow. Both he and Ron had their faces caked with icing, and the duo were grinning at the camara. Hermione, deciding to be wilful for one day, posed with a jug of juice behind the two boys, and started pouring the iced concoction down their backs, earning shouts of outrage from the boys whilst the others laughed on. Sirius and Remus too, had been there, as Dumbledore had explained how Sirius was innocent, and how the ex-convict wished to celebrate his godson's birthday together for once, as a family.

The next few photos were also taken during their stay in the burrow. There were also photos taken in their school, as well as those during winter, when they were having a snowball fight. At the last part of the album, Harry saw something that made his eyes water once more...

It was of the Marauders, and Lily.

Pictures from their school years, all the way to their marriage was also compiled in this book. Labelled by the years, it chronicled their prankster lives in Hogwarts, until Sirius and his father became Aurors, to their wedding photograph where Lily kept waving at the camara, smiling so blissfully at James.

Hurriedly, the boy closed the album, for fear that his tears might spoil the old photographs that were present in the album. Nonetheless, he took out the parchment that had served as a bookmark for the page which held the marauders' graduation photograph.

Hello Harry,

First of all, I'm sorry. I couldn't seem to find a suitable present for you. So instead, I've compiled an album of whatever photos I can find. Most of those marauder pictures are from Sirius and I. Surprisingly (or mayhaps not so), he named me guardian of the Black Manor in his will, and I've scoured his room for some of the photos you've seen.

Remember Harry, these pictures are not to hurt you further. They are meant to let you remember them through their happier times, of how you've laughed along with them. 'Do not keep your head buried in the sad memories of those who've died. Mourn, yes, but keep them alive in your heart.' A good friend of mine had said that to me earlier on, when they thought Sirius to be the one who've betrayed Lily and James, and I found it very true. Do try to go by it... it'll help.

Harry, Siri has left quite a lot of things for you. Perhaps you might not remember it, but you have stayed quite frequently in Black Manor with Sirius and I when your parents decide to have a night out. The room is still as it had been sixteen years ago, and I was wondering if you might want to stay here permanently, seeing as I might be able to gain your guardianship. Dumbledore has agreed to help me only if you are willing.

You need not reply to me so soon about this. The decision will ultimately be yours to make, Harry. Take your time. Till then, Happy Birthday.

Yours,

Remus 'Moony' Lupin

Harry's eyes widened at the implied meaning of the letter. Lupin was asking if he'd be willing to come stay at Sirius' home! His first reaction had been to agree immediately, but it was quickly wiped out when he remembered his condition...

Moony would definitely not be pleased to see Harry in this state. No. He would kill the Dursleys if he saw this. Sighing, he wrote a reply, suggesting that he would stay with the werewolf after he graduated. As of now, he'd just stay with the Dursleys, and figure out a way to hide the injuries, or find a cure for them before he sees Hermione. She's another witch that thirsts for blood... correction, for the Dursleys' blood.

Carefully placing the presents under the loose floorboard, Harry petted Hedwig's crown as he lay on his bed, thinking about Moony's letter. The man had said not to let sadness overtake him, but to think of them through the happy times they've been together. But how do you do that? It still hurt to think about Ron, much less Sirius. It hurt to think of how they died, hurt to think of how happy their lives had been before. Placing his uninjured arm across his eyes, he silently let the tears fall.

The pain he endured now with the Dursleys could not be compared to the pain still lingering in his chest at the thought of his friends. As it is, the reason why he actually embraced uncle Vernon's punishments without a word had actually been to numb the pain he felt in his heart, which had hurt since Sirius' death.

Immersed in grief, Harry never knew that another creature had entered the room until the notes of a sad song diffused into his mind... It was a song so ethereal that one could be thought to have entered heaven, and Harry pushed himself to sit up properly, staring in shock at the silver-blue eyes of a... phoenix.

The ruly-haired boy could not be sure if it was one, for unlike the phoenixes he'd read of, this creature had icy-blue and silver plumage, her eyes a deep silver-sapphire that seemed to read minds. Furthermore, this phoenix had sung a song that sounded sad, yet familiar. It was almost as if he'd heard it before, though it was definitely not from Fawkes.

In a cautious manner, he reached over, not really daring to touch the magnificent creature, causing her - he was rather sure it's a female - to twill a note in displeasure. Even Hedwig seemed amused by her master's carefulness, and hooted in what sounded like laughter. Albeit embarassed by the two birds, Harry touched the phoenix's feathers, which felt like cool satin, whilst the phoenix snuggled closer to his palm. Tugging lightly at Harry's shirt, she motioned the boy to look at the floor, where a very bulky box was situated.

Curious as to what was in it, imagine his surprise when the wrapping melted under his touch to reveal a beautifully hand-crafted trunk. Opening the latch, he took out a thick tome, surprised that it felt light to the touch. Apparently, someone had been thoughtful enough to place a feather light charm on it. Carefully, he opened the tome, and was once again taken aback by the sheer topics covered by the tome that were listed in the content page.

There were the basic subjects of Transfiguration, Charms and Potions, as well as a detailed history before the Founders' time, Astronomy, Runes, Arithmancy, Divination, and surprisingly, an ultra-comprehensive guide to the Dark Arts, encompassing even the spells that Dark wizards in medieval times use. However, Harry frowned at the content page.

If this book has so much information, I'd have thought that it'd be thicker than what it is.

Puzzled, Harry broke the seal of the scroll that accompanied the tome.

Happy seventeenth birthday.

I hope this tome finds you well... Harold James Potter, isn't it? The book is actually a copy of the book I would have given to you in person, but considering how it is written in languages all over the world, I've made a translation instead, and kept the original copy. Remember, just tap the subject you wish browse on with your forefinger three times, and the tome will magically bring you to that topic in the next page. This is easier than to have everything written out, for the book will probably be taller than I myself!

Most of the information found in that volume has been compiled by Helga, Salar, Godric and myself. The history part might not be relevant, considering how you're in a world thousands of years after our time, but it might prove interesting if you wish to study the Dark ages after Merlin's disappearance in the World.

All of us here miss you very much, child. Helga is still trying to find a way to get us over, but until then, take care of yourself. I'm sorry I can't help much, but if you do have anything you wish to clarify about schoolwork and such, you can enter into my room in Hogwarts castle. All of our rooms are in the south tower, near the dungeons. It is guarded by Merlin's statue, and my room is east of the den.

The entrance password is 'Oracle', and mine is 'Valenti'.

Till we meet again,

Rowena Ravenclaw

Harry dropped the scroll in shock. Rowena Ravenclaw wrote this? Quickly, he re-read the letter, and was sure that it was addressed to him. Perhaps someone had played a fool of him, but it wasn't very possible. As told, he tapped on the Dark Arts, and sure enough, words started forming in the next page, introducing the start of Dark Magic, and how it had slowly became more popular amongst wizards during the Dark Ages.

No, such books cannot possibly be pranks... Not when the description of how people died from certain hexes were so evident, and how the Unforgiveables had come about. Strange enough, Avada Kedavra had been invented to release terminal patients from their pain, and it was only centuries later did wizards use it for killing purposes.

Shaking his head, he took out another box, this time, containing a shallow marble basin - one that had runes carved around the edge.

A penseive.

Taking the scroll that was placed within the empty pensieve, the boy read.

Dear Harry,

Happy birthday dear. This year should be filled with surprises for both you, and the others who care for you. And no, don't take it too seriously, no blood shall be shed the coming year. In fact, you might very well gain the friendship of an unlikely person. One, whom, shall stay by your side until you decide to go independent once more.

I'm sorry to not have been able to find you sooner. It had taken me almost twelve years to find your exact locations, though finding out the cause had only took half a year. Your parents weren't exactly pleased to find you being brought here by Voldemort... ah, but you'll understand it later.

The dreams should have started by now, as well as the other gifts. Godric has always been complaining of how he couldn't sleep because of it since he was fifteen, and you will most likely be encountering the same problems. That's the reason why I made a penseive for you. Put those troubling thoughts and dreams into it, and ponder over it only if you feel the need to, or have the time. After all, it is always better to keep some things unanswered. However, if you do require some help, enter into my room in Hogwarts. It opposite Rowena's; the password's 'Celebithil'.

Well, perhaps by the time I see you again, I might be able to help you decipher some dreams that you find uncomfortable with. Till then, may Merlin keep you safe.

Yours,

Helga Hufflepuff

Confused, Harry placed the penseive back into the trunk. Had the letter just said that it was from Helga Hufflepuff? And that the penseive was made for him? The boy rubbed his temples, feeling a headache building in his head. He was now sure that the previous two letters had been from two of the Founders of Hogwarts, but why was it addressed to him? What exactly did Helga Hufflepuff meant?

Suddenly, Harry Potter did not feel very well... He wasn't dumb, and what Hufflepuff said was starting to freak him out. His parents? Weren't they James and Lily Potter? Why was he connected to Godric? Exact locations? He had always been in England... hadn't he?

Troubled, he touched his left forefinger near his temple, and drew it towards the penseive in the open trunk. Slowly, glistening strands of silvery-white substance started filling the penseive - thoughts and dreams that had been bottled inside him for the past year. The silvery substance glowed with an inner light, but Harry ignored it, relieved that his heart felt lighter than he had since God-knows-when. Like what Hufflepuff said, it was always better to keep some things unanswered, and as of now, he did not anticipate an answer to his problem.

Shaking his head, Harry opened the last gift, which was a heavy leather carrier, sucking his breath as he saw what was inside. A dozen weapons lay before him, ranging from a simple throwing knife to a standard rapier encrusted with jewels. Tucked inside was a short note, one, which Harry read immediately.

Dear Harry,

Happy birthday, my dau... son. Rowena and Helga had been scolding me about giving these weapons for you, saying how a girl should not meddle with such dangerous things. I think it otherwise. The threat that previously endangered your era must have forced you to learn all these weapons beforehand, so I might as well pass these to you now.

The glaive has been shrunk due to its size, as well as the larger swords and long bow. Only unshrink them when you need it. Otherwise, the dagger should be enough of a protection. The last weapon, my sword, should be in the Headmaster's room. Reclaim it once you go back to Hogwarts, but you may keep it there if you wish.

There's a weapons rack in my room in Hogwarts. Keep the weapons there, and please keep it in good condition. My father gave it to me before he died, a kind of heirloom, if you must term it strictly. My room is up north, and the password's 'haven'.

Be safe, my son. Till I see you once more.

Godric Gryffindor

Staring at the weapons in awe, Harry touched the broadsword's shrunken blade lightly, shocked by the sharpness of the blade - it had drawn blood from his finger.

"Gryffindor gave me this?" The boy murmured, eyes alight at the sharp blades. Choosing the dagger that looked similar to Slytherin's dagger, he pocketed it, and kept the others in the trunk. His head was still reeling by the significance of the gifts, not to mention, what the Founder said, and he picked up the last scroll, hoping that it would give him so idea of what was going on.

This trunk has an invisibility spell over it, my child. Just mutter 'be safe' in parseltongue, and it'll turn invisible and untouchable by others' hands. The phoenix you've seen bringing these gifts to you is also mine; her name's Ithil - elvish for the moon - and I wish for you to keep it with you until I come back to retrieve you.

The past year has been tough for you, dear child. Rest assured though, the next ought to be fine. Helga had said so, and none of us ever question her words, given who she is. I hope my dagger is still with you... it has a soul of its own, and only my descendent or another shadowmaster is able to use it. Anyone else wielding it will cause drastic effects, that was why I've sealed it until you appeared.

My room is always opened for you at Hogwarts. Just whisper your name and you'll be able to enter.

Look after yourself, Sandrilene. I'll be coming for you very soon. And remember, no matter where I am, I'm always with you.

Love,

Salazar Slytherin.

If Harry had been puzzled by the previous letters, this was the ultimatum. Slytherin had called him Sandrilene.

Sandrilene.

The name of Slytherin's only child.

Suddenly, all of it was starting to make sense. A reality that Harry did not want to believe. It wasn't possible that he was her, was it?

By the bedpost, Hedwig looked on worriedly. Her master seemed paler than before, and she could not help but turn to the phoenix for help. Nonetheless, Ithil just stared straight back at Hedwig, her voice sounding inside the owl's head, This is a battle she must do alone. Hedwig seemed to struggle at this, but finally bowed her head, knowing that what this phoenix spoke was the truth. In submission, the owl replied, yes, milady.

Ithil just nodded her head slightly, gazing at the clock. It was midnight. Singing softly, a low, haunting song echoed throughout Privet Drive as the phoenix floated in the air. Below her, Harry Potter suddenly fell to the ground and convulsed uncontrollably, pain shooting throughout his body as he huddled in a foetal position.

Whilst singing, Ithil swept a glance at the door, causing the heavy wood to lock itself, and a sound-proof dome surrounded the room whilst the boy screamed in agony. His skin seemed to be on fire, as if it was taking up the form of another person. His cheekbones started to become higher, the heart-shape of his face being more prominent, as well as his nose and mouth. His body shimmered, the thin frame dissolving to form a willowy figure despite the malnutrition that still had its obvious hold on him.

And his hair.

The unruly mop started straightening by itself, lengthening till it reached his waist. By the time the transformation was complete, the boy had fainted, whether was it due to the pain or lack of energy, no one knew. But one thing was certain...

Harry Potter was no longer a boy.

~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Dungeons, Hogwarts.

"Checkmate."

Severus grimaced as he once again, lost to the man before him. Annoyed at the man who had disrupted his precious sleep, the potions master scowled, "What do you want?"

The man, seemingly non-plussed, swung his long ponytail, chuckling slightly, "Why, to play chess with my fellow mate. That's all."

"Get to the point, Lord Slytherin." Severus gritted his teeth, knowing that this man was here for another reason. Salazar just laughed, knowing that it was seldom that this particular shadowmaster could seem this angry. Containing his amusement, the Founder stared at the potions master hard, bright emerald eyes boring into the other man's soul.

"Severus Snape. You are the only one I can count on to look after my beloved." Salazar said seriously, leaving the other man in puzzlement.

"Your beloved?" Severus echoed, muddled.

"Yes." Slytherin sighed, "It's her birthday today." Remembering his daughter's last smile, his eyes went dim. Turning back to his chess-mate, he continued, "Voldemort is dead? Isn't he?"

The potions master just nodded mutely, surprised that the Founder knew of what has happened. Salazar then smiled tightly, knowing that it was about time.

"Helga has found a way for us to reach your time. Until then, I can only converse to the current shadowmaster in dreams... I ask this favor of you, from shadowmaster to shadowmaster. Severus, look after my Sandrilene." The black-haired Founder started, his hand outstretched atop the chessboard. Severus, knowing the seriosity of the situation, questioned, "Who is she?"

"If not Sandrilene, look after Harry Potter. Until I come back for her."

His emerald eyes were almost pleading, and Severus had no choice but to agree. Placing his hand a few inches above the Founder's, a black light connected the duo, and Severus replied, "As shadowmaster of my time, I will."

That said, the light dissipated slowly, and Salazar murmured gratefully, "Thank you."

His eyes opened abruptly after Salazar left the dreamscape. Without his wand, he lighted a candle and pondered over the absurdity of what he had promised to do.

To look after Harry Potter until Salazar Slytherin - a man dead for millenias - comes back? He must be getting mad... but a promise was a promise, especially when made between shadowmasters. Sighing, he called upon the shadows, weaving them into a shape and commanded, "Go check on Harold James Potter, resident of Privet Drive. Make sure that he's safe."

In the next instant after he had ordered the shadows, another came back, whispering in the wind, "He no longer is there, master."

"WHAT!"

~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

End of Chapter 2

Phew, finally gotten this out. It is albeit long-winded, but I do hope that none of you out there mind! Next up, we see how Harry deals with his become a 'she', and what happens after that.

Also, thank you; Sakura Le, sabriel_chan, mc, fyre, Zaeria, Le Cle (sorry, I don't know how to make the 'e' thing), spacecatdet, Mikee, sasha, Kateri, Phoenix Angel and Hippy flower for reviewing!

Once again, if you have any questions, feel free to ask!

~Ephirel~