Disclaimer: JK Rowlings creation is her own, the only profit I am making is the enjoyment of creating a story based on her works. And yes I shamelessly plagiarised my own work from History – Retold. So readers such as the lovely JAM and Lady Spellweaver shhh... don't tell what happens

On with the first of my 'Harolde' chapters...

Apprentice


Godric, as usual, was as good as his word. He often sent me letters, gifts and provisions as well as allowing my son to visit me anytime I wished. He found a temporary wizard to take my place and as soon as Earven was old enough he was allowed to take his place as Head of Slytherin house. Dear Godric even went as far as to finding a way in which students that pleased me could enter my house without me being their.

Brilliant idea, if I may say so. He took one of his wizarding hats that he only wore on special occasions if Rowena forced him to and took a part of each of our minds. The hat was charmed to see into prospective students' heads and sort them into the houses. Thus the 'Sorting Hat' was born and the 'Sorting Ceremony' tradition began.

Now it came to pass that Helga found the 'love of her life.' Now I use this term lightly as Master Alyin the Muggle was not the man whom Helga thought him to be. I knew of their love affair and if I was honest I would say I was jealous.

Unfortunately Helga felt obliged not to tell Muggle Alyin of her witch status. When he found out he promptly left her and travelled to London. I assumed the worst and followed him.

As I expected he planned to inform the Bishop in London about Hogwarts. Now even though I had left and even though I knew I could never return to her hallowed halls I could not allow Helga to remain in danger or my dream to crumble further.

So I intercepted Alyin's letters of betrayal and wrote back to him as the Bishop. It was quite simple to lure him to a secluded spot and curse him into tomorrow. Unfortunately I must have seemed suspicious to some nosy muggle and I was, dare I say it, caught with my pants down so to speak.

Instead of fleeing, I stood my ground. A simple burning at the stake never hurt anyone. Flame Freezing Charms are easy to conjure on will even without my wand, which frustratingly had been confiscated.

So this is how I found myself tied to a stake ready to been burned alive.

My execution however did not go as planned. The poor muggles were scared out of their wits when a strange boy apparated right in the middle of the platform. How they screamed. Truly unbelievable! The emerald eyed boy seemed just as shocked as I by their reactions and a tad bit sheepish. There was nothing extraordinarily scary about him.

But what completely surprised me was the presence of yet more wizards targeting him for a kill. To give him credit he handled himself quite well until we were both cornered.

Of course this was when Rowena Ravenclaw has to turn up and save the day. Then she leaves me to take this boy home with me to teach him!

I leaned back and watched as 'Harolde' silently collected our breakfast plates and pans wordlessly, without myself indicating t his was his chore to complete. He worked with quick efficient movements his face set to a neutral mask.

"You're not afraid of work are you boy," I stated running my eyes over my floors which he had swept clean while I still lay abed sleeping. Harolde turned to look at me submerging his hands into the cleaning water. He withdrew them quickly as he caught my smirk at his drenched sleeves.

"I suppose not," he replied meekly.

"I find that pleasing, boy… Too many wizarding lads your age would recoil at the very thought of work. Young people today! They want everything handed to them on a silver platter…Not like you, ha boy?"

"I suppose not…" he returned with the same few words he had a habit of answering all my questions with.

"Ambition is a fine trait – if only more Slytherin apprentices had your dedication to hard work! For ambition is completely wasted – worthless in fact if you are not willing to work and toil…"

I took my time to study Harolde's slight sneer at the word 'Slytherin', he seemed to have a special dislike for the name. But he had not said anything about hating Slytherin's since I had 'disciplined' him on the first day. How his cheeks must have stung.

"I'm not ambitious…" Harolde protested finally.

"You could have been a great Slytherin, boy," I insisted.

Harry sniffed. "I'm a Gryffindor."

My eyes never left his face, I saw a trace of discomfort and doubt. I leant forward across the table and Harolde consciously step forward. I frowned slightly but announced anyway , "I know what Godric's Sorting Hat told you… You could have been one of mine – won me glory in a time of great turmoil…but your heart chose otherwise and you're Godric's…." Salazar frowned deepened as he added, "And perhaps that is a good thing…"

Harolde didn't have an answer for me. He shrugged his shoulders and seemed surprised by my remark. I learnt later that from where he was from the 'reading' of minds and understanding content of thoughts was not as well developed as I would have hoped.

Needless to say the deficiency with his education, mostly accessing mindsets, his own magical core and certainly wandless arts. He was an apt pupil mostly considerate and charming company.

Word travels quickly in the wizarding world. Presently Helga returned to my cottage to meet this new apprentice she had heard about and to talk…

Hufflepuff raised her eyebrows slowly at me as I dismissed Harolde to chores outside in the cold. "You have not changed at all Salazar Slytherin," she state slowly, but to jovial to worry about such matters she abruptly changed the subject back to my apprentice. "Is he as powerful as Rowena thinks…?"
"So she told you about him…"
"Well his appearance was something of note." Hufflepuff glanced at me knowingly.

"Well physically he is stronger than he looks, emotionally, spiritually and mentally he is vulnerable and magically… he has the capacity to surpass all of Rowena's expectations."
"Meaning he could beat Godric or yourself in a duel," she suggested playfully.

I ruefully considered this and determined once I finished with him her statement would probably be true. For some reason the prospect of an apprentice with so much power didn't seem frightening to me.

"If he was trained correctly…ARAGH!" I threw his hands up in the air thinking about the gaps in his education, "The things they are not teaching at our school…he didn't even know how to access his power!"

"Surely not!" Helga was horrified, the teaching the apprentice how to access their own power was one of the foremost magics taught to new apprentices – something that we all had agreed on.

"Is he…is he in danger…?" Helga hesitated, for what other reason would someone like Harolde be thrust into our hands by a quirk of fate? Rowena had stressed to me that I had been the most appropriate teacher for him. A point Godric had apparently contested strongly but had given up after a few hours of debate with the clever Ravenclaw. Rowena had a way of knowing more than she should. Never argue with Ravenclaw.

"Plenty of danger…where would a Gryffindor be without danger?" I replied with a laugh.

"Indeed," Helga replied, for she knew of Gryffindor's odd ability to attract danger, "Is our world…"

"Our world in that age hangs on that youngster's shoulders…"

Helga frowned and chewed her bottom lip, something that she only did when she was deeply troubled. "But he his brave…"

"…and clever…and cunning…and loyal…and honourable…and…"

"Slytherin what's bothering you?" Helga asked looking into my eyes a look that I had never been able to resist. She knew that something else that had been revealed to me was bothering me greatly.

"And he hates me…" I finished lamely feeling nothing but a small whining child.

"I am sure that is not true!" Helga replied quickly.

I smiled wryly. "I cannot blame him… cannot find fault with that…" I hid my face in my hands.

"He is the boy I would have wanted Saxtyn to grow into…" I gave a small gasp much to my chargin, "And he hates me… and the wizarding world hates and abhors my name. And they are right."

"No…no it cannot be…"

"Helga I saw what a Slytherin has done through his memories. How can I go on when this traitor will destroy everything I hold dear…the name of Slytherin has only done ill to our precious community!"

"Oh dear Salazar, you know that knowledge is problematic…knowledge is socially and culturally constructed. You deny your descendants for what they will do…"

I gave a cry of fury…if only she had seen…she too will hate me for what I brought to our world.

"…I don't hate you… nor will I ever…"

I gazed into the eyes of the woman who had been with me throughout the darkest of his days, despite her own private grief. A woman who had fished me out of hell's belly and brought me back to life, who had given me strength with her quiet courage. A woman I loved, even though it felt like a betrayal to my late wife. How I had loved her, how I still loved her! It was her heart that outshone all exterior forces, a heart of pure, undying beauty.

"Alyin doesn't know what he is missing," I commented and I watched the pain echo in Helga's eyes as her lover's name was mentioned. And then I knew why she had come to me. "You're better off without him, dear heart…you and your child will be happier without him in the long run… you'll see…"

Helga glanced up at me horrified. "You know…" Her small hands clapped over her mouth partially trying not to show her shame and guilt.

"Please don't tell Rowena…what will she think of me…I need to think about what to do with it."

"Keep it." Helga glanced up into my face his eyes shone with an earnest. "Give your child the love and the mother it deserves."

"But it'll be a bastard…"

"But you'll be its mother."

"But Rowena…"

"If I know, Helga, Rowena already does and I daresay even Gryffindor will figure it out."

Helga nearly swooned in embarrassment. "What will they think of me…a mother to a bastard child…"

"I cannot tell you what they will think, Helga," I said trying to find a comforting tone in my voice. "But I don't care."

Helga smiled sadly up at me…and I reached forward, my finger lightly tracing the curve down to her chin, and then pressed his lips lightly to hers. I could taste the salt of tears as they started to drip down her white cheeks.

"…but I don't care…"

Whoo I'm on a roll. For those who don't get this chapter 'Harolde' of course is really Harry. But as we know from the stories Slytherin took out certain chucks of their time together to keep Harry's identity secret. He is known as simply Harolde...