ZA: Now for the moment you've all been waiting for…
Crispy: Hoverboards?
ZA: No.
Crispy: Pink Floyd's reunion tour?
ZA: No. And don't hold your breath for that one.
Ryklef the Inept: The sixth Twilight book?
ZA: Oh, that's horrible. I don't even want to think about that.
Crispy: Yeah. Quit trying to further your own agenda.
ZA: It's the moment people have been asking for in all of the reviews. People keep asking, "When will Ron and Hermione find out that Harry is Sal? How are they not figuring this out?" Well, it's because the idea is so impossible. Harry: Gryffindor golden boy; Slytherin: bigoted Founder and Parent of Darkness.
Crispy: Parent of Darkness?
ZA: You know...Voldemort.
Crispy: *eyeroll* Just say the thing, Ryklef.
Ryklef: Zsugami Alba does not own Harry Potter or any other fandom that makes an appearance here. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must adjourn to the little boy's room to refresh my glitter.
"Speech"
'Thoughts'
Parseltongue
Excerpts from The Book
Chapter 11: Where do heirs come from?
"Brrbffin," Harry mumbled at the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"What? Speak up, man! I can't understand a word you're saying!" complained the Fat Lady.
Harry sighed. "I said, 'buttered muffin'. Now open up, please. I'm tired."
"Hmph. Only doing my job," muttered the portrait as she swung open.
Harry stumbled through the entrance and trudged toward the stairs to the boys' dorms, not noticing how very quiet it was in the common room.
"Um. Are you all right?" asked a small voice. Harry looked up to see a first year girl with a slightly confused look on her face.
"I'm fine. I'm just tired. Thursdays are always the worst. The weekend is right there...but it isn't. I'm just going to turn in. Goodnight." He turned towards the stairs again.
"But Professor Slytherin," said the girl. "This is the Gryffindor common room."
Harry suddenly stopped and glanced down at himself. He had forgotten to change from Sal to Harry. 'Why did I think skipping my nap today was a good idea?'' He made a show of looking around the room. "Oh! So it is! I was wondering what everyone was doing in my sitting room. Hello!" Harry waved at all the gawking Gryffindors. "I seem to have gotten turned around. It's those ridiculous staircases. In my day, stairs stayed where they were supposed to. None of this drifting around from landing to landing, willy nilly. I'd better get to my own quarters now. Goodnight. Don't forget to finish those essays for tomorrow!"
"What?" several students shouted.
Hermione seemed to be turning green. "There's an essay due tomorrow?"
Harry stopped short. "Oh. Did I forget to assign it? Nevermind. No homework for you then. Don't bother. Less for me to grade, I suppose." Half the room breathed a sigh of relief.
Hermione turned to Ron. "There's something wrong with him," she said. "Maybe we should follow him and make sure he doesn't wind up passed out behind a suit of armor."
The two Gryffindors tread lightly, but Ron doubted Slytherin would have heard them if they had been riding elephants with cymbals on their knees. The professor was practically sleepwalking, poor fellow. "He's probably so tired because of all those extra long essays you've been turning in. That's a lot for one man to read, you know."
"Shut up, Ron," snapped Hermione. "I was only being thorough. Oh no. He's wandered into Myrtle's bathroom now." They hurried to catch up.
"Maybe he's headed for the Chamber of Secrets," suggested Ron.
Hermione cast him an incredulous look. "What on earth would he want to go there for? It's filthy."
Ron shrugged. "I don't know. I was just guessing."
"Let's just get him turned back around the right way again, shall we?" Hermione pushed open the bathroom door, and she and Ron entered to find… "Harry?"
Harry turned around, "Oh, hello! I, uh...needed to visit the loo."
Ron shook his head. "Why would you want to use this one, mate? Myrtle's always here. That's just weird."
"I don't know. I'm tired. It was close. Thursdays are always the worst. The weekend's right there...but it isn't."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Harry, have you been spending time with Professor Slytherin?"
"No, not really," he answered. "Why?"
"Because he just said that very thing to Helga Brightmoor a few minutes ago. When he was in the Gryffindor common room. In fact, we followed him here. Have you seen him?"
Harry looked around. "No. I must have missed him while I was in one of the stalls. Are you sure he even came in here?"
Ron nodded. "Yeah, mate. He was looking pretty knackered when he stumbled through the door. We thought he might need to be woken up and pointed in the right direction."
"Huh. That's odd. He's not here now."
"Yes," agreed Hermione. "That is odd." She drew her wand and pointed it at Harry. "Who are you really? Where's Slytherin? Where's Harry? What's going on?"
Harry turned to Ron with wide eyes. "Uh, Ron? A little help here?"
"What are you doing, Hermione?" Ron hissed.
"We followed Slytherin in here, but he's not here. Instead, we find Harry, who claims he never saw Slytherin in here. Plus, Harry claims that he came in here to use the loo when we know perfectly well that Harry would never risk exposing himself to Myrtle - especially after what happened last year in the prefects' bath." She focused all of her attention on Harry. "You've been acting rather suspicious since your supposed return. Beating Ron at chess? Knowing when Slytherin would be causing a scene and having popcorn at the ready? Getting good grades in Potions class? Who are you, and what have you done with Harry Potter? And where is Professor Slytherin?"
Harry sighed. "Oh, all right. You've found me out." He waved his wand over himself and became Sal again. "Ta-dah. I'm Harry Potter and Slytherin. Can I go to bed now? I'm really beat."
"Oh no you don't!" Hermione jabbed her wand in Harry's direction. "You couldn't possibly be Harry. Harry couldn't possibly be Slytherin."
"Predestination Paradox ring any bells?" Harry reminded her. "That accident in Potions class threw me into the past. When I woke up, I discovered that Salazar Slytherin didn't exist. I had to become him in order to preserve the timeline."
"You were only gone two months, Harry! I mean, Harry was only gone two months, Fake Harry!"
"Actually, I was in the past a lot longer than that. When I designed the spell that brought me back, I added in a de-aging factor. I thought I could just slip back into the present without anybody noticing. Obviously, I miscalculated and overshot my return date. Sorry about that. Your idea for the Moments in the Life of Harry Potter Tour was really quite touching."
Hermione wasn't buying it. Ron just looked confused. "Tell us something only Harry would know," he suggested. "Then maybe Hermione can put away her wand, you can turn back into Harry, and then we can all go back to bed and discuss this in the morning."
"My patronus is a stag," Harry offered.
Hermione scoffed. "Everyone knows that. Show us your patronus."
Harry yawned hugely before shrugging and saying, "All right. Expecto Patronum." Silver shot forth from his wand and took the form of Prongs...wearing a nightcap. "Whoops. I must be more tired than I thought." Harry then waved his wand over himself, taking his original form once more, before passing out slumped against his corporeal patronus.
Ron turned to Hermione. "Are you satisfied now?"
Hermione lowered her wand. "I suppose so. I still have tons of questions, though."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Of course you do. Save it for morning, though, would you? Come on Prongs. Let's get him to bed." Ron took Harry's other side, and he and the patronus helped the unconscious wizard back to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione following behind.
"So you're Salazar Slytherin?" Hermione asked as soon as she'd pulled Harry into an empty classroom on the way to breakfast.
"Can't this wait until after breakfast?" Ron complained.
"Ron, this is more important than food," scolded Hermione.
"I think I'm with Ron on this one, Hermione," said Harry. "I have a very strict schedule I have to follow to fit in all of my classes and Sal's. I've already missed one nap, and look how that turned out."
Hermione sighed. "All right. ONE question, and then we can eat breakfast."
"Very well. What is it?" Harry sighed.
"Who did you marry?"
"What?"
"Who did you marry in the past? You obviously met someone because...Voldemort is your heir. You can't have heirs without...you know."
Harry just stared at her. "I didn't get married."
Ron raised an eyebrow. "Drunken night, Harry?"
"What?! NO! I never got drunk. Helga insisted we all had to stay sober in order to safely escort her home. She was the boozer in the group, not me!"
"Boozer?"
"Her words, not mine!" Harry assured them.
Hermione would not be distracted. "Then how do you explain all of your heirs? Hmm, Harry?"
"I don't know!" Harry protested. "I just arrived back in the present and suddenly had them. Like...they just poofed into existence, or something. It's not my fault. I don't know how it happened."
Ron smirked, "Well, Harry, when a witch and a wizard really love each other…"
"Oh, shut up!" Harry yelled. "There was no falling in love, no drunken nights of forgotten debauchery...nothing happened!"
"Maybe we should go to the library and see what we can find out," suggested Hermione.
"Maybe YOU should go to the library," said Ron. "Harry and I are going to breakfast."
Hermione looked as though she was about to argue. "You promised," Ron reminded her.
Hermione did let them go to breakfast, but she was right back in their faces the moment they exited the Great Hall. Come quick, Harry! I think I've found her!"
"Found who?" Harry asked.
"Your wife," said Hermione.
"I told you I don't have a wife!" Harry protested.
"Then you'd better see this because Dorcas Wimpleweaver has a very different story." Hermione grabbed Harry and Ron by the arms and dragged them to the library.
"Who is Dorcas Wimplewhatsit?" Harry asked.
"Dorcas Wimpleweaver," corrected Hermione. "Approximately one year after Slytherin left Hogwarts, she came forward. She claimed she was Slytherin's secret wife, and she had a baby she claimed was Slytherin's heir. Your heir, Harry."
"I don't remember meeting any Dorcas Wimplewumples. I certainly didn't give her any babies."
"Are you sure, Harry? Here's her portrait in this book." Hermione turned the page to show them an illustration of a rather unattractive witch.
"Gee, Harry," said Ron. "I wouldn't admit to knowing her, either. Yeesh!"
Harry just stared at the ghastly image. "Creepy Stalker Chick!" he cried.
Hermione looked reproachfully at Harry. "I thought you said you didn't know her."
"I could never remember her name, but that's Creepy Stalker Chick. She was scary. I mentioned her in the new Hogwarts history book. Chapter...25, I think."
Hermione dug into her book bag and pulled out her copy of Hogwarts: an unabridged history.
Chapter 25: Creepy Stalker Chick
When I arose early on the morning of my fifth year teaching, I was dismayed to discover that I was, once again, missing my left boot. Creepy Stalker Chick strikes again. Wait. I haven't mentioned her before. Let me back up.
Before Hogwarts was built. In fact, before Godric and I had even met Helga and Rowena, he and I were strolling through a market near Cardiff, exploring the various merchandise for sale. I lost track of Godric for a few minutes, but he soon returned to my side with his usual cry of "Look, Sal!" I turned to find him holding a tiny, orange fruit. A tiny fruit wearing a tiny wimple. "It's a nunkumquat!"
"Where did you find a kumquat?" I asked him, for I knew they were not native to the area. "And how do you know it's called a kumquat?"
"There was a bag of them over there, and they each have a sticky piece of parchment on them that says 'KUMQUAT 1048'. What do you suppose the 1048 means?" asked Godric.
"Nevermind that," I told him. "Where did you get a wimple small enough for a kumquat. And why? Actually, I can probably guess why, so where?"
Godric pointed to a nearby stall that sold hats and scarves. "There's a woman over there who makes them. She said it's normally for serpents, but she'd let me have this one if I introduced her to my handsome friend."
I looked again at the stall and saw the most...unattractive individual I have ever encountered. "Stabby mice!" I muttered. That is what I always said when I needed to swear and be polite at the same time. It's actually parseltongue, so it loses something in the translation.
Unfortunately, my attempt to avoid offensive language became my downfall. The merchant in the stall, weaver of serpent wimples, was also a parselmouth. As I was the only other parselmouth she'd ever encountered, she immediately assumed we were destined to be together. From that day forward, she was the bane of my existence: following me everywhere, stealing half of my footwear, licking doorknobs she thought I'd touched...I shudder even now at the memory. Her face was not for all markets, you might say. I believe it is entirely possible that she was the result of an unholy union between an adder and a demon from the seventh circle of Hell. In drag. Hopefully, no man ever imbibed enough firewhiskey to discover what her offspring would be.
"That's so mean, Harry," Hermione chided.
Ron shook his head. "Look at her, will you? I think it's pretty accurate."
"Well, she claimed to be Slytherin's secret wife and mother to his only heir, so…" Hermione trailed off, lost for words.
Harry sighed. "I feel sorry for the poor drunkard who fell into her pit. But how could anyone think I would...you know...with her?"
Hermione pointed to a paragraph beneath Dorcas Wimpleweaver Slytherin's portrait. "It says here that no one did believe her until her child started speaking to snakes. Since Slytherin was the only known parselmouth, she convinced everyone that the child must be his."
Harry was outraged. "But SHE was a parselmouth! She used to charm the snake portraits guarding my rooms! I had to switch to human portraits that only spoke French!"
Hermione gave him a pitying look. "She apparently never revealed her talent."
Harry looked ill. "I feel so...violated."
Ron tapped him on the arm to get his attention. "Look! It says here that once she managed to verify her claim, she took control of the remains of Slytherin's estate."
Harry turned from pitiful to irate in less than five seconds. "You mean she stole my money? I need to go to London immediately. I have to straighten all this out with Gringotts."
"Don't you think it's a bit late for that?" asked Ron.
"It's the principle of the thing, Ron," argued Harry. "Besides, I need to make certain she didn't gain access to more than the main vault. Hopefully, the goblins did not volunteer any information about my other accounts."
"Harry?" Hermione began as she, Ron, and Harry (in Sal form) reached the gates separating Hogwarts from the rest of Hogsmeade. "How did you get permission for us to leave school grounds?"
"Call me Sal when I'm in this form, Hermione!" Harry/Sal reminded her. "And it's simple: You just have to be in the company of a professor."
"What about you?" asked Ron. "What's your - I mean Harry's excuse for being gone?"
"Oh, he's serving a detention with me," replied Sal.
"What?" cried Hermione. "You can't oversee your own detention, Ha-Sal!"
"Well, Professor Snape gave me detention for breathing too loud in the hallways as I was returning from quidditch practice, but he had an errand to run today. So he passed the duty onto McGonagall, but she was busy. Luckily, I volunteered to oversee young Potter's detention myself. Everyone wins!"
Ron looked impressed. "Better make sure Snape never finds out," he warned.
Sal laughed. "Oh, don't worry about that. What Snape doesn't know, won't hurt us. Now each of you take an arm," he instructed, holding his arms out from his body, "and I'll side-along us to Diagon Alley. I'll warn you, though: it feels like traveling through one of those crazy straws."
"What's a crazy straw?" Ron wanted to know. Hermione opened her mouth to explain when there was a sudden "SHWOOMP! SPLURT!" and the three travelers were spat out onto the cobblestone walkways of Diagon Alley.
"What was that?" asked a dazed Ron.
"Apparition, mate. Unfortunately, I've never had formal training and can't seem to nail down the customary popping sound. It's more like the noise the pneumatic tube at the bank makes when it sucks up your deposit."
Hermione looked up from her position on the ground, looking a bit green. "If you two don't shut up and give me a minute, I'll be making a deposit in that rubbish bin over there."
Just then, they heard a cheery voice call out, "Sal? Is that you?" All three turned to see a pale, broody looking figure in muggle clothing approaching. There was something off about him, but Ron couldn't quite put his finger on it. Sal grinned.
"Ryklef! Fancy meeting you here! You're looking well fed. Must be nice to have access to blood banks these days. Or did you give up and start feeding on pigs?"
Ron leaned closer to Sal and whispered, "He's a vampire? How do you know a vampire? And what's up with his eyes? That can't be a natural color."
"Of course, my apologies. Allow me to introduce everyone." Sal turned to point to Ron and Hermione. "Ryklef, these are my friends: Ron and Hermione. Ron, Hermione, this is Ryklef the Inept."
Hermione got that look on her face - the one that promised endless questions about things that weren't really important. "Why are you called Ryklef the Inept?"
Ryklef looked confused. "Because that's what my mother named me."
Now Ron looked confused. "Your mother named you Ryklef the Inept?"
"Oh!" said Ryklef, catching on. "No, she named me Ryklef. Sal added that last part. I was terribly incompetent when we met."
Sal looked surprised. "Don't tell me you've gotten better at hunting."
Ryklef smiled smugly. "Yes, you could say I've found my...target market."
"Target market?" asked Hermione.
Ryklef turned his full attention to her. "Yes, my beautiful mortal. I am fascinated by you. I like to watch you sleep and compose music in your honor."
Ron and Hermione looked bewildered and more than a little creeped out. Sal sighed and shook his head. "No, Ryklef. Tell me you didn't."
Ryklef ignored him and leaned closer to Hermione. "Wouldn't you like to join my eternally young family? We could hunt mountain lions together and complete many pointless high school educations."
Hermione shot a desperate look at Sal. "Um...Sal? A little help here?"
"Ryklef," Sal chided, "this is Hermione. Remember I told you about her? My highly intelligent, rational friend?"
Ryklef looked crushed. "You mean she's not a fan?"
"A fan of what?" Ron wanted to know.
"Twilight," replied Ryklef and Sal simultaneously.
Hermione looked vaguely ill. "You don't mean to tell me that you expected me to fall head over heels in love with you because you're dressed up as Edward Cullen?"
"Well, yes," admitted Ryklef, looking sheepish. "It works on all the muggle girls - and a lot of the muggle borns."
"Really?" asked Sal.
"Okay, most of them," responded Ryklef. "Here, I'll show you. Just give me a moment to refresh my sparkle. He pulled out an aerosol can, shook it, and sprayed a glittery mist all over himself. "Now watch...and learn." He stepped out from the shadows into the sunlight and there was an immediate reaction from several young women in the vicinity.
"Gasp! Edward!"
"Oh! It's really him! I knew he was real!"
"Look at me, Edward! I'll be your Bella!"
"No! Look at me! My name actually IS Bella!"
"No, it isn't! It's Gertrude! Look at her driver's license! Pick me! I won't lie to you!"
"I love you, Edward! Let's have a hybrid baby together!"
Ryklef accepted all of this attention with a tiny half-smile. "Now, now, ladies. I'm plenty hungry enough for all of you."
"Ryklef!" shouted Sal. "Behave yourself."
Ryklef sagged, only adding depth to his performance of pseudo teen angst. "Sigh. Very well. Just one little snack?"
Sal grabbed his arm and began leading him away. "Come on, Eddie. You don't want to be late for Biology. Bella would be so disappointed." A chorus of mournful sighs followed them as they walked towards the far end of Diagon Alley, towards Gringotts.
They hadn't made it more than halfway there before they ran into Professor Snape exiting the apothecary shop. "Professor Slytherin! What do you think you're doing here?" he demanded.
Sal smiled winningly. "I've got some financial affairs to sort out, and I thought Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley would enjoy an educational field trip."
"I thought I gave y-Potter a detention yesterday. Shouldn't you be ensuring he shows up? McGonagall will not be pleased." Snape hissed.
"Oh, don't worry about her," Sal assured him. "She was busy, so I volunteered to oversee Potter's detention myself. It's much more efficient this way. I promise to keep a careful watch on him. Never let him out of my sight."
Ryklef looked around, curious. "I thought you said the boy's name was Ron."
Ron rolled his eyes. "I am Ron. Harry is...someone else."
Ryklef rolled HIS eyes. "Well, that clears everything up."
Sal began to look a bit nervous. "I'd love to chat, but I really have pressing business to attend to. We'll catch up later, Ryklef! Come along, Miss Granger! Mr. Weasley. Let's go practice your Goblin etiquette."
Snape cleared his throat and loomed over the three of them, blocking their path. "Not so fast, Professor. I believe I should accompany you. After all, two chaperones are better than one - especially when dealing with Gryffindors. You never know what kind of...trouble they'll get themselves into."
Sal swallowed nervously. "Do you really think that's necessary? I am, after all, a Founder."
Snape smirked. "We wouldn't want Potter to think he's getting off easy now, would we?"
"No," Sal muttered. "I suppose not." He led the way to Gringotts with considerably less bounce in his step.
WARNING! SPOILERS AHEAD! THE FOLLOWING SECTION WILL REVEAL PERTINENT INFORMATION/PLOT TWISTS/ENDINGS FROM THESE STORIES/FILMS: THE PRINCESS BRIDE, CITIZEN KANE, STAR WARS, STAR TREK, THE AMAZING SPIDERMAN 2, THE NOTEBOOK, SOYLENT GREEN, THE SIXTH SENSE, THE WIZARD OF OZ, PSYCHO, IRON MAN, and PLANET OF THE APES (not necessarily in that order). If you want to avoid learning plot twists of any of these movies/stories, skip to the next line break.
"Hello," Sal greeted the goblin at the front desk. "I wish to access my vaults."
"Name?" asked the goblin in a bored monotone.
"Slytherin, Skywalker, and Stark," replied Sal.
The goblin's head shot up, his eyes wide. "Those are vaults 4, 5, and 6. You realize that two of those vaults are password protected?"
"Yes, like my cousin's computer," said Sal. "Much safer. Keys can be lost, but passwords are always safe inside my head."
The goblin looked doubtful. "Very well. Griphook! Escort our guests to the Founders Level."
Hermione turned to Sal. "You have the fourth, fifth, and sixth vaults here?"
"Well, yes," replied Sal. "It was actually Rowena's idea to use goblin financialists, though the interest rates back then were terrible. Still, after all these centuries, it should've added up."
After a nauseatingly lengthy trip to the deepest levels, past a dragon and a chimera, the cart came to an abrupt stop outside a deceptively nondescript door. "Vault Six," announced Griphook.
The company of four stumbled out of the cart and approached the door. Sal looked at his companions. "You may want to cover your ears," he suggested.
Snape scoffed, "Worried we'll sneak in later and clean you out, Slytherin?"
"Suit yourself. Don't say I didn't warn you."
Sal addressed the door in a loud, clear voice. "Soylent Green is people."
"What?!" cried Snape. "They were feeding them people? That's disgusting!"
Sal glanced back at him. "Oh, you're familiar with that one?" He turned back to the door and continued. "Obadiah is secretly using Tony's data to build weapons."
"No!" cried Snape. "He can't do that! It's...unethical and...illegal! Tony trusted him!"
Sal glanced back again. "I take it you never saw the end of that film? Oh well. Do you mind if I finish here? I've got one more before it opens."
Hermione tapped Sal on the shoulder. "Your password is a series of spoilers?"
"Muggle spoilers," corrected Sal, "For movies that hadn't happened yet. Clever, isn't it? The planet of the apes is really Earth."
"Impossible!" cried Snape. "Apes are physically incapable of human speech. You made that one up."
"Actually, Professor Snape," interrupted Hermione, "That one is true."
Snape looked disgruntled as the vault doors swung open, surprisingly silent after so many centuries of disuse. Not three seconds later, gold began spilling out into the passageway.
"Whoops!" said Sal. "I don't think we'll be able to enter this one." He turned to Griphook. "Is there a way to…" he motioned to the scattering galleons "shove it back in? Maybe if we close the doors really fast afterwards?"
Griphook looked down his nose at Sal - not an easy feat, as he was considerably shorter than the Founder - and wordlessly handed him a bag.
Sal looked down at the bag in his hands. "I suppose not. I'll just...scoop this up then?" Ten minutes and four bags later, they managed to close the doors to Vault #6 and move on to #5.
As Sal approached the doors, Snape caught his arm. "Perhaps, we should have wands at the ready?"
"Right," Sal agreed. "Containment charms." He pulled out his wand and addressed the doors. "This one is a lot more complicated. Might want to plug your ears this time, Snape."
"I can take it," Snape sneered.
"Darth Vader is Luke's father."
"No. That's not true. That's impossible!" cried Snape.
Hermione actually dared to pat him consolingly on the back. "Search your feelings," she said. "You know it to be true."
Sal could not contain his laughter, despite the quelling looks Snape was shooting at him. Ron, completely lost, just shrugged.
Sal eventually recovered enough to speak the next part of the password. "Rosebud was his sled. Wesley is the Man in Black. Spock was reborn on Genesis."
"What?!" Snape shouted. "But...does Kirk know? Did they just leave him there?"
Sal held out a hand, placatingly. "Don't worry. Spock transferred all of his memories to McCoy, and they went back and found Spock and got the memories restored." He turned back to the doors again. "Dorothy dreamed it all after a nasty bump on the head. Dr. Malcolm Crowe is dead. Norman's mother is the killer, and his mother has been dead all this time. The notebook is their story."
"And she doesn't remember?" Snape looked dismayed. "But theirs is such a beautiful love."
Sal looked at him oddly. "You've seen The Notebook?"
"Read it, actually," sniffed Snape. "It was in the bargain discount bin, but it was missing the final chapter. I haven't had the time to find a complete copy yet."
"Riiiight. Moving on. Gwen Stacy dies."
"Nooooo! They were made for each other! Peter loved her! He was going to move to England to be with her!" Snape collapsed on the floor in tears. "How could they?"
Fortunately, Hermione seemed to be ready for this reaction. She quickly cast a containment charm as the vault doors swung open. Nothing spilled out. In fact, the vault seemed to have plenty of room. Her shoulders drooped as she realized she felt a bit disappointed.
"Oh right," said Sal. "This one didn't have money in it. Just artifacts. And some personal notes."
Hermione's eyes lit up. "Notes? As in diaries? Books? Factual records?"
"More like research," said Sal. "Nothing terribly exciting. Just a few new spells and potions and the meaning of life, the universe and everything."
Hermione looked as if she might explode with eager anticipation. In fact, Ron suspected that might be a bit of drool at the corner of her mouth.
"Just kidding about that last part," laughed Sal. "I just took a roll of parchment and scrawled '42' all over it."
"Not funny." Hermione glared at him reproachfully.
Snape made a point of checking his watch. "If we don't hurry this up, we'll be late for dinner."
"Right. I'll just pop in and grab one little thing," promised Sal. "To tide Hermione over until we have more time." He quickly entered the vault and grabbed a small, leather book before exiting again and closing the doors. "Everything seems to be in order. Shall we proceed?"
YOU MAY CONTINUE READING NOW!
Griphook stepped forward and held out his hand. "Your key, sir?"
Sal reached into his pocket and pulled out a large, shiny, brass key and placed it in Griphook's palm. The goblin stared at it a moment before saying, "Mint condition. Interesting." Everyone watched as he slid the key into the lock of Vault #4 and opened the doors.
Standing on tiptoe at the back of the group, Ron's first comment was: "Is this it? I can't see anything."
Stabby mice! Sour crickets! Crunchy slugs! Sal swore in Parseltongue. Spawn of an oversized earthworm! He marched into the vault and did a full 360 degree turn, taking in the emptiness of the room that was accentuated by the occasional cobweb. "They've taken everything but this bit of old cloth!" He bent over to retrieve a dusty bit of linen from the floor only to immediately drop it again in fright. "Save me!" he cried as he ran to cower behind Snape.
"What on earth is the matter?" asked Hermione. She started forward to peek under the cloth, but Ron held her back.
"Better watch out, Hermione," he said. "There are all sorts of nasty things that hide in old places like this. When I was five, Mum was cleaning out the attic and found an actual lethifold." Everyone looked at Ron in shock. "It was only a baby, but still...can't be too careful."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "If it were a lethifold, it would've died of starvation by now." She plucked up the cloth to reveal a large painting of a woman with a very...unfortunate face. "Dorcas Wimpleweaver?"
The portrait blinked up at her. "Who are you? Was that my ZarZar just now? Sometimes I think I've seen him, but it always turns out to be just a dream. Is this a dream?"
"No," said Hermione. "I'm really here."
Dorcas brightened. "Oh! Are you my descendant?"
Hermione turned a bit green at that. "Er...no. I'm here with-"
"Don't!" Hissed Sal. "Don't say my name!"
"-Professor Slytherin," finished Hermione.
"ZarZar?" Dorcas called. Oh, other half of my serpentine soul! How I've missed you! Come closer, and let me gaze upon your beautiful visage once more.
Everyone looked to Sal to translate what was obviously a gushing monologue in parseltongue, but he ignored them all and marched up to the portrait with an expression of righteous indignation. "Don't you ZarZar me, you...you...person of dubious heritage! How dare you invade my vault? How dare you steal my gold? How dare you steal my name and besmirch my reputation? Do you have any idea what your heirs have done?"
Dorcas seemed not to notice his fury. "Our heirs, you mean, my sweet. I bore them in your honor. Salazar Junior was always yours in my heart."
"Salazar Junior?" Sal was on the verge of becoming apoplectic. "Who names their kid Salazar Junior? I've met dogs with better names! Nay! I've met hamsters with better handles than that!"
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Need I remind you that your name is Salazar?"
Sal turned to look at him in exasperation, "It wasn't my idea!" Turning back to the portrait on the floor, he resumed his tirade. "What are you doing in my vault?"
Dorcas sighed. "I'm not supposed to be here. When I had myself added to your portrait, it was hanging up in Hogwarts. Then we had a little misunderstanding, you left, and that horrid Ravenclaw woman banished me here to the family vault."
Sal looked horrified. "You had yourself added to my portrait? You had yourself added to my portrait? Where did I go?"
Dorcas shrugged. "I don't know. You've been gone so long. It's all right now, though. We're together again. Oh, embrace me, my sweet! We will warm this cold, bare vault with our love!" The latter half of Dorcas' declaration was lost to the majority of the group as she slipped into parseltongue.
Sal's entire body shuddered with horror before he straightened up to his full height, pointed his wand at the offensive canvas, and cast the most impressive incendio that Snape had ever seen. (And between you and me, that's saying something.) "You can warm this cold, bare vault with your own ashes, you vile worm! Go back to the shadow!"
"Nooooooooooooo!" The portrait of Dorcas Wimpleweaver wailed in agony as the flames devoured her oil, pigment, canvas, and frame until there was nothing left but ash.
"I feel so much better now!" Declared Sal. "That was so...liberating! I'm almost sorry there was just the one portrait." He turned to face his shocked companions. "I'm free. I'm finally, totally, one hundred percent free. No. I cannot rejoice in this sweet victory while others live under the tyranny of painted harpies! I must go. There is work to be done."
He rushed out of the vault and commandeered the cart, sending it and himself up to the surface without his companions. They turned to look at Griphook, who merely rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers to call another cart. It arrived in just two seconds, but Sal's cart was already out of sight.
Snape turned to Griphook as everyone climbed aboard. "Can we catch up with him?"
Griphook nodded. "Hang on tight. We'll have to increase the speed from swift to supersonic."
Snape nodded once to confirm he understood and then proceeded to cast a shield charm around the cart. "This should prevent any unfortunate side effects."
"Side effe-?" Ron started to ask.
"He means bursting eardrums!" interrupted Hermione as they zoomed up the winding track.
"Not to mention eyeballs!" added Snape. "Now what part of 'hang on' did you not understand?"
Everyone renewed their grips on the sides of the cart as they careened through the caverns toward the surface.
Despite their death-defying speed, the occupants of the second cart arrived at the bank's lobby just as Sal was exiting through the main doors. "Hurry!" he shouted to Ron and Hermione. "He's not going to give me the slip!" The two Gryffindors raced after Sal as he ran out the doors, down the street, through the Leaky Cauldron, and into Muggle London. In his full wizarding robes. Snape quickly shed his outer robe and tossed it at Hermione. "Take this and floo back to the castle! Use the password 'Spangles'!" he instructed before hurrying after the crazed Founder.
Snape followed Sal all the way to a paint supply shop. "I need a can of turpentine! Stat!" Sal demanded of the bewildered clerk behind the counter as he slapped a galleon down in front of him.
The clerk, not wanting to take his eyes off what was obviously a dangerous lunatic, did not dare to check the validity of the currency before handing the man the nearest can of turpentine. "Thereyouaresirhaveanicedaypleasecomeagain!" he blurted out in one breath - having been chastised by management earlier in the day for not reciting the "necessary pleasantries of commerce" - and then he slumped in relief when Sal grabbed the can and ran out the door with a shout of "Keep the change! For freedom!"
Snape nearly caught up with him at the next corner, but a large group of small children in matching uniforms swarmed into the space between Sal and his pursuer. "Out of my way, you halfwits!" he snarled as he waded through the youngsters.
"Shame on you, sir!" shouted one of the adult chaperones. "The proper term these days is 'mentally challenged'." But Snape didn't have time to debate the importance of political correctness. His detentionee was escaping.
Thankfully, he caught up with Sal back in the Leaky Cauldron in time to hear him shout "Number 12 Grimauld Place!" at green flames. 'Now what is he doing?' Thought Snape as he watched Sal disappear into the floo. Snape followed suit and arrived in the kitchen of the Noble House of Black to find Sal neatly sidestepping a confused Sirius.
Sirius turned to Snape. "What's going on? Who is that guy?"
"A man on a mission of dubious judgment," replied Snape. He and Sirius followed Sal to the foyer. The crazed Founder gleefully ripped the curtains from Mrs. Black's portrait and grinned maniacally at the irate occupant.
"Who are you? How dare you disturb this house? I won't have any more mudbloods and traitors in these halls! I won't stand for it!" she shrieked.
"Hello," Sal addressed her in a pleasant tone. "My name is Salazar Slytherin. You annoyed my godfather. Prepare to die."
"What? You can't kill me! I'm a portrait! I can never die! You don't frighten me!"
"Very well then!" shouted Sal, turning from pleasant greeter to intimidating opponent. "To the pain."
"To the what?" Asked Walburga and Sirius simultaneously.
"I got that reference," Snape pointed out smugly. Sirius shot him a look of irritation before turning back to hear Sal's answer.
"I'll explain, and I'll use small words so you'll be sure to understand, you warthog-faced buffoon. 'To the pain' means the first thing you lose will be your feet, below the ankles. Then your hands, at the wrist. Next, your nose. The next thing you lose will be your left eye, followed by your right."
"And then my ears, I suppose?" sneered the portrait.
"Wrong!" shouted Sal. "Your ears you'll keep, and I'll tell you why. So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe who weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out, 'Dear Merlin! What IS that thing?' will echo in your perfect ears. That is what the pain is. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever."
Walburga stared at him. "I think you're bluffing."
"Possibly," admitted Sal. "It's conceivable, you miserable, vomitous mass, that I'm only standing here speaking to you because I lack the power to even singe your frame. Then again, perhaps I have something better up my sleeve. I'm willing to bet you've had your portrait protected against all magical means of destruction. Never once considering the possibility that you might meet some...more...muggle mishap." He twisted the top off the can in his hand, conjured a rag, and poured some turpentine onto it. "Let's test it on the scenery first, shall we?" Raising the dampened, pungent rag to the canvas, he swiped the lady's chair out of existence.
"Oh!" cried Walburga. "What? How did you do that? What dark magic is this?"
"No magic," beamed Sal, brandishing his rag of doom. "Just muggle ingenuity." He then proceeded to fulfill his promise, one body part at a time, as his victim shrieked in agony. Soon, all was quiet, and the three men stared at the twitching pair of ears in the middle of a white canvas.
"Well," said Sirius. "That was...um...could you maybe…?" he gestured at the ears.
"Oh, sure!" said Sal. "They are a little creepy." He finished off the rest of Walburga Black with a happy sigh of satisfaction.
"Who are you really?" asked Sirius.
"No one of consequence," replied Sal.
"I must know," insisted Sirius.
"Get used to disappointment, Snuffles" said Sal. Then he turned to Snape. "Shall we head back, Professor? It's nearly time for dinner. McGonagall will have our hides if we don't show."
"You never show," Snape pointed out. "And I don't have much appetite since those blasted buttocks made their appearance." Nevertheless, he herded Sal out the front door and down the street to a shadowy spot where they could apparate away undetected.
Sirius watched them go with equal parts wonder and admiration. Then he turned back to the blank canvas on the wall. "This is the best day ever."
ZA: I obviously don't own William Goldman's Princess Bride, or its wonderful 'To the pain' speech, but Sal could never resist a good movie quote in the proper context. Also, the reason why Sal hates Dorcas's pet name for him is because it sounds too much like JarJar Binks.
