Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or its characters. I am merely using them to entertain myself because I am bored and don't feel like doing my massive amounts of compiling homework.
Warnings: Mild slash (Salazar Slytherin/Harry Potter), OOCness (it's fanfiction, if you want In Character stuff, read the books), spoilers through OotP, etc.
A/n: Many thanks to my reviewers!
"Hey, look who's decided to grace us with his charming presence," Godric said teasingly. Harry was standing slouched in the doorway with his clothes disheveled and a most unpleasant look on his face.
"I. Hate. Mornings."
"I can tell," the Founder replied lightly, putting some food on an empty plate for Harry, who sat down and watched half-heartedly. He wasn't really interested in food. Ignoring Harry's lack of vitality, Godric added, "Any minute now, Salazar will make his way in here and put your pathetic entrance to shame. I rarely see him up before noon on holidays, and if he does rise at a reasonable morning hour—and I've good reason to think he will—he is a terror. He's rude and always has a biting, hurtful remark ready to offer those around him."
"Good for him," Harry muttered, trying to give off an unapproachable air. He was not successful; Godric couldn't take the hint.
"Oh, you don't believe me, do you? Well, I'll prove to you I am right in a few short moments—look, see, here he comes now! The man of the moment!"
"Stop running your mouth Godric. It is too early for you to be pestering other people," Salazar growled. He took a seat next to Harry. It was rather nice having the Great Hall almost to yourself, which only happened during holidays when most students were gone.
"Good morning, Lord Slytherin," Rowena said softly, an uncertain yet hopeful look in her eyes. Salazar glared and said nothing. He held his head up high and ate with pureblood prestige. Harry frowned at this.
"Don't be rude, Lady Ravenclaw just said good morning," the boy-who-lived rebuked softly. Salazar sighed and muttered a quick "good morning" before returning to his meal. "You're not a nice person before noon," he observed.
"Told you," Godric exclaimed.
Harry shrugged. "I'm not one to talk. I'm just as bad."
Looking from Harry to Salazar and back, Godric smirked mischievously. They were a lot alike. Both had irritated green eyes and dark hair—Harry's messy and Salazar's impeccable. Both hated mornings and preferred comfortable silence to conversation. "Maybe you're related," he suggested. "Salazar, maybe Harry's your great-great-great-great-great-great—"
"No, definitely not. That lot would fall to Tom Riddle, aka the Dark Lord, bka Voldemort. Yeah, lucky me, I know."
"You mean he's a real heir, not just a partial heir? I thought you said he was a halfblood."
Harry frowned. "Yes, his father was a muggle." He paused uncomfortably, seeing where this conversation was going. "My mother was muggleborn, so that makes me halfblood, too," he reminded the Founder.
"No, you're a first generation pureblood," Godric corrected.
"What difference does it make?" Harry said edgily. Salazar shot him a warning look telling him he would not like the answer he was about to receive.
"It makes all the difference in the world! Who wants dirty blood tainting this marvelous school? I certainly don't, and I doubt the other Founders do either—" He received two affirming nods from Helga and Rowena and a normal glare from Salazar "It brings the secret of our world closer to exposure and therefore extinction! It would be a nightmare if the muggle population found out about us! And mudbloods are not as capable with a wand as we purebloods are."
Harry glared and said dangerously, "I will remind you, sir, that my mother was a mudblood. One of my dearest friends is also a mudblood. It is not to your benefit to keep referring to those with less than pure wizarding blood with such disdain."
"Those are his ideals, Harry, and you did ask him about it," Salazar reminded him softly.
Harry shot him a glare. "But he has absolutely no respect for these people—and they are people, beings with a heart and mind and soul! They can love and hate and feel pain! They bleed when you pierce their flesh and cry when you pierce their hearts! They deserve to be treated better than that!" With that, Harry stood and fled the scene he'd just caused. Godric looked perplexed.
"What did I say to get him so riled up?"
Salazar did not answer. Instead, he rose gracefully, sending Godric a silencing look that promised pain if he continued speaking, and followed the path Harry'd just walked out of the Great Hall. After searching for the boy for what seemed like an eternity—Gryffindor Tower, Quidditch Pitch, Astronomy Tower, empty classrooms, and the Room of Requirements all visited with little success during his hunt—he suddenly felt an alarm go off in his head. Quickly, he changed directions and strode purposefully toward the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Once there, Salazar saw the boy had thrown himself down across a large statue and was sobbing loudly. The sound shook the older wizard to his core and he was overcome with compassion for the young man.
As he crept over to the boy, a portrait opened its mouth to greet him, but he silenced it with a shake of his head. Sitting down next to the younger wizard, Salazar touched his back gently and spoke quiet words of comfort into his ear. Harry tensed at the initial contact but soon let himself find reassurance in the Founder's strong presence.
"Why would he say something so hurtful?" Harry murmured, turning into Salazar's open arms and burying his face in his robes.
Salazar sighed. "Godric Gryffindor is young and naïve. He does not know what he is saying. He hasn't had the extra years of suffering that I've had. He most certainly did not mean to hurt you, Harry."
Harry frowned in confusion and replied, "He's the same age as you."
Salazar fought a smile. Leave it to Harry to focus on such an insignificant detail. "Actually, he is three years my junior, but I was referring to his mind. He has been coddled all his life and knows very little about the harsh reality outside the walls of Hogwarts and his childhood home."
"Isn't that the same with most purebloods?"
"Most," Salazar agreed. His eyes darkened. "But not all." Harry frowned and opened his mouth to inquire further, but Salazar continued before he had a chance, "Helga Hufflepuff, for example, knows better than anyone how miserable life as a pureblood can be."
"But Lady Hufflepuff is always so happy and full of life!" Harry objected. He didn't want to think that something awful had happened to that wonderful woman. She of all people should have the chance to increase her own happiness as well as lift the spirits of those around her.
"She is happy. Now, that is. It was not always so—she's had a very harsh life, understand, and she had to work hard to get to where she is now." Salazar shook his head sadly. "She was raised to be the perfect little wife to a pureblooded bigot. She always put on a smile face, because she didn't want anyone to see how unhappy she was. She never spoke back to her father in all her life. Not until she was fifteen and put her fist down and refused to marry her fiancée. She was a romantic, see, and always dreamed of marrying for love. In a fit of rage, her father gave her the beating of her life, disowned her, and left her out on the cold winter streets of Knockturn Alley to die.
However, instead of wallowing in self-pity and sorrows of the past, Helga picked herself back up and found herself a job working at a muggle pub to survive; the wizarding world saw her as a disgrace and refused to hire her—not that women are able to get many jobs in our world and in this age, mind you. She scrubbed floors by hand, washed dishes, waited tables, polished shoes, cleaned linens, and many other things that would usually be too far beneath a pureblood witch—it was humiliating, but she always pulled through her tough times with a smile."
"How did she end up here at Hogwarts?"
"A young wizard happened by her one day and noticed two things: her pureblood magic and her ever-present smile. He took her under his wing and nurtured her magic, teaching her every spell he knew and continuing the education that had been taken away from her with her first home and family. After that, it's all as you could imagine. I was an acquaintance of Helga's fiancée who admired her courage.
Rowena was an idealistic young professor who wanted to found a school and sought us out individually. At first, only the other three were in favor of building a school, but after great coercion from Godric, who is has been a close acquaintance of mine since we were very young, I found myself slowly growing attached to the idea and soon joined them in their dream, and together we four founded Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Quite the fairy tale, isn't it?"
"Wow…I guess I'm not the only one who's had a rough life," Harry muttered sadly.
"Even the wealthiest and seemingly happiest of people have growing pains and heartache, Harry."
"I doubt Malfoy's too uncomfortable right now," Harry said bitterly, but immediately regretted his words as an image of Draco Malfoy at the end of fifth year passed through his mind. Malfoy had been very upset, promising revenge for his imprisoned father.
Harry then wondered, "How is it possible for someone to so adamantly desire your friendship one moment, and in the next despise you so completely?" Salazar did not reply; no answer was necessary. "Malfoy's father supported his hatred towards me. What would the man have said if his son had befriended me instead—if I hadn't rejected Draco Malfoy's friendship on the train in our first year? Surely, he wouldn't have approved of our friendship! So why would Draco, who hangs on his father's every word, try to befriend the enemy when he was probably told to stay as far away from me as possible?"
"That is a very common struggle among purebloods—follow in the footsteps of your father and his father, or choose your own path in life. It is probably harder for Mr. Malfoy to face his father's disproval than his fist. He'd probably prefer physical blows to emotional ones. Bruises can be shown to the world, but scarred hearts and minds can be hidden behind false smiles.
"Sometimes a person needs a little push in the right direction. This Draco Malfoy character unwisely chose you for that push, and he was shoved back into the darkness of his father's shadow."
"But I didn't know anything back then! I barely even knew I was a wizard! I didn't understand the difference between the Houses and how unimportant they really were!"
"And that is probably why he chose you. Despite his apparent haughtiness, he hoped that you would judge him fairly, without the weight of his surname swaying you."
"He would have dragged me down with him!"
"No, Harry, you would have pulled him up, just as I have seen you do with many of my students this year. Slytherin House would have been good for you, but you also would have been good for Slytherin House." At Harry's dubious look, the Founder added, "You've been good for me." Harry turned a deep red and looked down at the floor in embarrassment. Salazar's eyes grew sad for a brief moment before they hardened into their usual aloof indifference. "You should get some rest," he hissed softly in Parseltongue. "Classes resume in a few days. You will need your strength."
Harry didn't acknowledge that statement. "It wouldn't be so bad to have a basilisk down here—provided it isn't trying to kill me." He looked over at Salazar with a faint smile on his lips. "And basilisks are legal in this time, right?"
"Barely," the Founder replied with a languid draw to his tone.
"Can I have one?" Salazar was very surprised, to say the least, at Harry's blatant request. "Please?"
"It is not my place to grant that request, Harry. You would need to ask your Head of House for special permission, seeing as serpents of any sort have been banned from the list of acceptable familiars." Harry nodded reluctantly, and Salazar could tell that the boy would rather not have a basilisk than ask Godric for one.