It has been a while. I needed a short break. Too tired to write anything else here. See you in the next update, then (or, alternatively, the end of the chapter, which I wrote when I was slightly more coherent).
How did Salazar manage to build a school and then off himself at age sixteen? Isn't that a bit young?
Hm…I know I tried to squish it a little. Let's see. He was (sort of) raised by his parents and in magical school until he was seven (remember, magical schools accepted young according to magical strength…I think I put that somewhere), when his mother was killed by is father and he was transferred to another school, met Godric, Helga, Rowena. All decided to build a magic school together (succeeded sometime in…Early teens?), worked at the school for a couple years and then he started arguing with Godric (a year, half a year?) before his sixteenth birthday when he was banished and killed himself. I'll try and set more exact dates later. Also, I'll try and work those in to the memories to clear it up. But I'm falling asleep so…Later, later.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
:Mindspeech:
-Parseltongue-
Chapter Eighteen: Memories Reclaimed
It was that night again, Severus Snape, potions master of Hogwarts, mused silently, adding a pinch of powdered Erumpent horn to a simmering cauldron and giving a satisfied nod as it turned blood red. For the past few years, the night of the twenty-first of August had been accompanied by steadily worsening moods and frustration. He no longer knew why he still hung the note on the door, now spelled to read 'Potions Master at Work, Do Not Disturb', only that it was mostly out of habit. He no longer had any hopeful ideas that some forgotten friend would come and rescue him from his miserable life as a spy, nor did he believe that such a person existed. Maybe, then, it was curiosity that made him attach that note to his door, curiosity at who this person could be that had once inspired such feelings in him as friendship, trust, and loyalty. Perhaps next year he would not put up the note and merely leave the door empty. Perhaps then he could let the memories and curiosity die. He did not truly believe himself as he thought this, however, as he had been thinking that same thought every year and it still had yet to happen. Not this year, though, as the note was already on his door.
Pushing such thoughts away, he turned back to the potion that he was working on, carefully bottling it away in several glass vials, and neatly labeling each one before sitting down at his desk to write out his thoughts and theories about the improved potion. The piece of parchment he was using was quickly covered in writing and he was on his second roll of parchment when he was interrupted by a knock on the door.
Snape froze but, but did not allow any other feelings to surface and resumed writing.
"Come in," he called, still not looking up from his paper. There were the scuffling noises of the door being pulled open and then silence, his visitor waiting patiently for him to finish. Having his thought process interrupted, it didn't take long for Snape to loose his train of thought and he looked up, irritated at whoever had the nerve to interrupted, and even more annoyed to see that it was Potter, of all people, looking nervous (just great, a guilty-looking Gryffindor was not what he wanted to see at this time of night). He had almost hoped…but no. "What do you want, Potter?" he snapped.
Potter flinched slightly, "I…"
"Well, get on with it Potter!" Snape said.
-Release Severus Snape from my magic,- Potter whispered. The lights in the room seemed to flare up, and Snape staggered as a wall of memories hit him.
A person (body?) lay in a large pool of blood…Dumbledore was speaking to him and the werewolf, while a person with messy black hair and green eyes watched from behind them…"SLYTHERIN-GRYFFINDOR!"…"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," Evan said coolly as Lucius Malfoy held out his hand…"You may call me Evan."…"It sounds like fun, doesn't' it?" Evan asked brightly while Severus stared at him in disbelief…"I know!" Evan exclaimed so exuberantly and suddenly that Severus jumped and nearly fell off of his bed, "Poison!"…"No force on Earth that I have yet encountered could stop a Gryffindor from eating if the food's right in front of them and they don't have a reason not to."…"I caught Pettegrew sneaking around somewhere around there. You think this calls for a retaliation prank?" His expression and voice turned slightly dreamy, "Something big…and lots of mass chaos…"…"Aw, Sev, you're no fun," Evan pouted, "Whatever, it's not like I wasn't expecting it. Anyways, I got this."…"I'm sorry, Sev, I didn't mean to get all upset," Evan apologized, "It just annoys me when people mistake me for somebody I'm not."…"Of all the stupid, idiotic, Gryffindorish things to do," Evan muttered…"Go!" Evan hissed. He looked a bit pale himself, Severus noticed through the cobwebs that still stuck to his mind. "He's really angry. If you don't go soon he might kill you!"…-Serphenia?-…:Do it.:…"Um…I'm sorry?"…"I can't stand rats."…"I've done the calculations and I've got a month left to live…in the Slytherin dorms. Then I'm packing up and I've gotta go. Family reasons."…"…on some big and noble Gryffindor quest-type-thing."…"They're all gone, you know…"…Don't make promises you can't keep."…"Bingo. Salazar Slytherin…"…"I'm not from this time."…"My friends know me as Harry."…"Goodbye…"…
And still more memories, more details continued to pour in, in a never-ending torrent of remembered sounds, feelings, and words. Two months worth of tastes and smells, two months worth of words and memories and dreams…Angry and confused, Snape lashed out,
"I suppose you think this funny, do you Potter? Messing with time of all things? I knew that you were just like your father but I wouldn't have thought that even you would go that low just for a bit of petty revenge…"
For a split second, the mask crumbled and Snape could see emotions locked behind it. For a split second, Snape saw emotions flitting across Potters face, before quickly being stifled as new masks flew up to hide his emotions.
"So be it," Potter said in an emotionless voice that made the hairs on the back of Snape's neck stand on end and he turned to leave, "I'm sorry for bothering you at this time of night, professor." And the he calmly left the room, the door closing quietly behind him. Snape watched him go, feelings that, oddly enough, felt like guilt and worry rising up inside of them.
A sudden burning sensation pulled him away from those disturbing thoughts and he pulled the amulet that Evan (Potter, he corrected himself) had given him for Christmas those many years ago out of his robes. It was burning hot and the multicolored stone that it held was glowing with a violent shade of red. Of course it was cursed; Potter had given it to him after all. A sudden increase in heat caused him to drop it, and he backed away; he didn't want to get caught in some nasty hex or prank.
The amulet started glowing, growing rapidly brighter until he raised his arms to shield his eyes from the glare, which was extremely lucky, as the amulet exploded seconds later; pieces of silver ricocheting off the wall. When he decided that it was safe, he uncovered his eyes, looking around for the damage that the little pieces of silver must have caused. The amulet was lying in the middle of the room, only the jewel remaining untouched, save the single, large crack splitting it nearly in half; the stone swirled with a dull, grey mist. The pieces of silver that must have been flying around the room just a second ago were gone and wrapped around the jewel was a large, silvery snake.
The snake, which Snape recognized as the one that Potter had met in that Care of Magical Creatures class all those years ago, regarded him coolly before slithering silently out the door that Potter had left open, leaving Snape with the unsettling feeling that something was not right.
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Harry left the office calmly, walking down the hallway until he was out of earshot before breaking into a run. Tears streamed down his face as the makeshift mask crumbled. He felt like collapsing and letting himself sob openly, but he couldn't do it in the open corridor, where someone could find him, though nobody else would be wandering the halls of Snape's manor at this time of night. Instead he ran, not quite sure of where he was going. He was acting on instinct now, his feet carrying him without command.
His feet took him up stairs and through passageways, and his ears remained oblivious to the hissing calls of the snakes he passed. Harry ran up to a tower, the one where Salazar had used to go to think. The previously moonlit night was now dark and stormy, thunder rumbling not to far away, although Harry didn't hear it.
The tower was a dead end, though, with nowhere else to run. He paused for a second, unsure of where to go. Then, without further hesitation, he leapt off of the tower, summoning his Firebolt wandlessly as he did so, although not particularly caring if the broomstick reached him before he hit the ground. It was a warm night, however, despite the quickly gathering clouds; the window to the room that he shared with Draco was wide open and the Firebolt reached him quickly.
And so Harry flew; his broom clumsy in his soaring dance. He spun downward in a tight spiral and pulled up, and his broom, not twisting sharply enough, shot off into the forest. He darted through the tops of the tall trees, tears pouring freely under the cover of the forest. A turn came a moment too soon and Harry was knocked off his broom as the tail of the broom crashed into a tree trunk.
As he fell towards the ground, gravity pulling him ever faster, his wings opened on instinct, spreading wide and slowing his fall. Then, with the flapping of his enormous wings, he was lifted up into the air again, over the treetops back into the open sky above.
It was raining now, the heavens crying for him as he flew. Icy wind tore through the sky, chilling Harry's already wet skin, but he took no notice of it. The trees tossed their branches angrily, and a fork of lightning lit the sky, but still Harry flew on.
He flew for what felt like hours, racing the lightning and spinning, twirling, spiraling through the air. His wings grew heavy from the long flight, but he ignored the pain. Harry dived again, skimming the grass, but his it was too much for his wings, and he fell to the muddy earth with a cry of surprise.
Harry skidded to a stop at the foot of a large tree, thoroughly muddy, rain pouring down on his back and dripping down his face as he lifted it out of the mud. He pushed himself up from where he had been laying face-down in the mud with one hand so that he was on his knees and used the other to scrub at his muddy face with his equally muddy cloak-sleeve, his wings curled protectively around him, partly shielding him from the rain. He felt drained, exhausted, and yet still somehow restless. He pulled out his daggers.
He only had three left, and, having left the two longer ones with Severus when he left that time the three that he had left were all poisoned. Did it really matter? He wasn't sure he wanted to live long enough to meet Draco, who was now also Godric; Harry had felt the surge of magic when the other founder had regained his memories. And so he bled.
There was a trill of phoenix song from above him as the poison started to take effect.
"Leave me alone, you stupid bird!" Harry muttered, too far gone to shout. But the phoenix paid no mind to his anger and landed next to him, dropping fat, pearly tears onto the wound. "Leave!" Harry hissed and struck at the bird with his unwounded arm but he was still weak from the poison and Fawkes was merely in the air above him again in a flash of red and gold feathers. And having such energy meant that the phoenix's healing tears had worked. He could not attempt to use his daggers again any time soon, either, for the phoenix tears still running through his wound and blood would heal any injuries that he obtained for the next several hours.
He gave an ironic snort of laughter. Not even Godric could kill him now, not unless he used one of the nastier dark spells, which Godric would never do. He slumped against the tree trunk, defeated, as the clouds above him gave way to harsh moonlight. He could still feel the magic in the air and he didn't doubt that, had he bothered to prepare for it, caught moonlight from tonight would be particularly potent, the crystallized form brighter and harder even than diamonds. Good for hatred potions, and love potions too. Most any potion that dealt with manipulating the mind, for that matter. He vaguely wondered if Severus had thought to catch any. But it was Professor Snape now, wasn't it?
And so he sat back, letting the emotions play themselves around his head in a detached manner. Anger…Oh yes, there was a lot of that. Anger at the world, and, most of all, anger at himself, for allowing himself to trust again, when he of all people should have known how unbalanced long-suppressed memories were. Sadness…A feeling of betrayal…Hope was hidden in the far corner of his mind, today, Love and Friendship were lost and alone in the whirlpool of negative emotions, and Hatred was right up there with Anger. Tiredness…He was tired of the world, tired of being betrayed and loving and hoping. Tired of anger and hatred and sadness. Tired of friendship and loyalty, being hurt and hiding from hurt. Tired of betraying and being betrayed, hiding secrets and revealing ones he'd rather not know. And somehow, in all of these mixed emotions, he found a strange type of peace.
His magic wrapped around him as he thought, and, spiraling outward, explored the grounds of the manor that had once rightfully been his. Serphenia had slithered off with his daggers some time ago and had employed Fawkes' help in stashing his wand somewhere high in the tree, lest he try anything 'stupid' but not too far away, but not too far, in case he managed to get himself in trouble. Again. Fawkes had also dropped a warm blanket that she had found somewhere in the castle over his shoulders, where it still hung, Harry too apathetic to even bother shrugging it off.
The paintings and all the snakes of the castle were worried about him (and that reminded him, if he was not going to give up on life altogether, he needed to warn them about how they spoke to him, as well as the snake speakers of Hogwarts; it wouldn't do for them to start calling him 'Lord Slytherin' in front of his once again least favorite teacher), they did not want to loose him yet again. Snape was still working in the potions lab but Harry took a vicious pleasure in seeing how disturbed the Potions Master's aura was. Draco, or Godric, or Gryffindor, or whoever he was, was still asleep, still reliving the past. Harry hadn't taken so long but he expected that his friend (or not so much friend) had lived at least a bit longer than Salazar himself so there was no reason to worry. And even if the time came his still wouldn't worry…Would he? Not even for Draco? Harry did not know and did not want to continue the thought.
Harry subtly changed his magic's path, to the forest and the many creatures, magical and not, that lived within. He explored so thoroughly, so desperate to think of anything but betrayal and his once-friends, that his magic had touched every rock and every tree, every cave and twig and rabbit and unicorn. He spent hours like that, until the sun started to rise, upon which his magic withdrew slightly and his wings faded into nothingness. That the sun had so much power on his magic, on his being marked him as a so-called Dark wizard. There were far too many Dark rituals (and there were never any Light rituals) that restricted its user's powers during daytime or, alternatively, granted the user more power after sunset. Not that he had ever had any need of such rituals; he had never used them. Still, he noticed that Godric, a pure Light wizard, had his powers heightened in daytime.
Night and day. He supposed that's how they had complimented each other and ultimately failed. They could never understand each other, though it was neither and both's faults.
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Draco opened his eyes blearily and blinked. He looked around and blinked again. Harry was missing. He blinked once more. The face of another emerald-eyed wizard swam briefly in his mind's eye before disappearing. Shrugging, he looked around again and his eyes fell on a regal looking red and gold bird. Fawkes.
And he remembered.
Everything that he had relived last night, everything that he had dreamed, that had seemed so…real. Frighteningly so because he knew, deep down, that it had been real. Sal…Re'na…Helga…They had all been his friends, had worked with him towards their goal. Except Sal…Sal was different. He was Godric…(Godric?)…'s best friend and yet he was so different. Refreshingly, frighteningly so, like a breath of the nighttime sky, cold, mysterious, alone…
Dark.
And so they had forced him to leave, even though he was their friend. Even though he deserved so much more, at least a chance to defend himself. But we gave him plenty of chance…his thoughts whispered, We gave him years…
And then Sal had left, quietly, without much fuss…He was just gone from their lives, as though he'd never been. Godric had expected revenge, had wanted it. That would tell him he was right for forcing his best friend to leave.
But it had never come.
And after so long, after too long, Godric started questioning. Sal was different but did that make him dangerous? Sal was suspicious but did that mean he was hiding something? Sal was dark…but did that make him evil?
Salazar had never returned to the school. Godric had never gotten his answer.
And it was too late for Godric to follow behind his friend.
For the muggles, it would seem like Godric Gryffindor had lived a long time. By wizard standards, all four founders died young.
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
There was someone approaching. Even before Harry recognized the aura he shot up into the tree on instinct, his temporary peacefulness replaced by a buzz of anxiousness and a sickening lurching in his stomach that was fear and anger. Upon recognizing the aura of the approaching wizard, and the phoenix flying above him, he calmed down, at least outwardly. Though he looked calm and half-asleep, staring lazily off into the sky, he was tensely alert, his whole attention on the approaching wizard.
"Gryffindor," He greeted blandly when Draco was too close to ignore. He was rewarded when he felt the other wizard paused and not come any closer.
"I always did wonder how you did that," Draco said hesitantly, sitting down on the grass, "Sal."
"I believe that would be 'Slytherin' to you, Gryffindor. You have no right to use such familiar words with me." Harry fought kept his voice neutral but still a small sneer snuck into it.
"I…I'm sorry," Draco said in a small voice, "I should have listened. Should have let you speak."
"And yet I did not take the opportunity to do so, when you waited for years." His voice was neutral but Draco felt that he was being tested, measured somehow, "Tell, me, Gryffindor. You could not have waited forever, what else was there to do?"
"I…could have asked. I wanted to ask," Draco offered, "I…still want to ask but…" But how could you find the words to ask a friend something like that?
"My life before Hogwarts was…not pleasant," Harry said softly, "Both of them." And so he spoke, never looking down at where Draco was sitting on the ground. He spoke of Salazar Slytherin and he spoke of Harry Potter. Every memory, every word, everything that he could remember about either life, he told Draco, who listened silently. Sometimes he spoke exuberantly, sometimes he was mocking, but all too many times he was merely quiet, withdrawn, and sad. These were the memories that hurt to talk about. His banishment, his betrayals, the people that he had loved, his friends…the people that he had seen die.
When his story was finished, Harry's throat was sore and his voice slightly hoarse. Draco didn't know what to do. What could he say to that? And so softly, hesitantly, he told his own story. Startled, Harry looked at him before sitting back to listen. A Light family that had been slaughtered by Dark wizards. Love. Betrayal. A Dark family that alternatively spoiled and neglected him, pressuring him to do things that he didn't want to do. Disowning him.
They sat back in silence, thinking over each other's lives. Thinking about the future. Thinking about the other two founders and Hogwarts.
"I am sorry, you know," Draco said after a moment of thoughtful silence, "I really should have…"
"There's nothing to be sorry for," Harry interrupted in a slightly irritated tone, "You did some horrible things and I did some horrible things. We're even, okay?"
Draco's face opened up into a sincere grin,
"Thank you."
Harry muttered something about 'Gryffindors' but smiled back,
"Let's go back to the house."
He was really, truly tired of suspicion and pessimism. Maybe, just one more time, he would try. Try to trust and believe. Maybe he would cry again. Maybe he would have nightmares. Maybe he would be hurt. But on the whole, things were, ever so slightly, looking up.
xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
That would be a good place to end the story, wouldn't it? But I'm not that evil. There are still several more chapters to go. And now onto the fun stuff crackles
Random note (I couldn't fit this into my story): Harry reappears in Hogwarts…And then gets the hell out of there before the wards can attack him again. He has to give Sev and Godric a chance to kill him before he lets any old wards get the satisfaction. If anyone is confused at that.
Strangely enough, I feel the need to share this with you: for the most part (especially the middle of this chapter), this chapter was based on that feeling…Well if something gets you really upset and you cry for a long time then finally you'll start feeling better (and even best if it was someone who got you upset and they apologized sincerely) and then everything starts looking up a little. Because I'm an emotional, sappy teen, of course…