Author's Notes: I had too much fun writing this chapter, I think. Also, the last three chapters are written, but life has blindsided me so I can't update them daily like I usually do. I apologize.

The Astronomy exam was held in the tallest tower. Once Harry had finished it as quickly as he could, he returned to his dormitory with Theodore, Switched his clothes, and fell asleep.

Neither greeted each other in the morning, nor did Draco or his thickset pawns choose to participate in Harry's morning exercise activity. As far as either of them was concerned, Harry and Draco did not exist to one another. Harry went through breakfast with only Sally-Anne and Theodore for company. The other four third-year Slytherins stayed firmly neutral as they had during the Pariah test during Harry's second year.

For their first exam that day, the Potions Practical, the third years had to brew a Confusing Concoction, which did not thicken as it should have for Harry. Snape, hovering over Harry with an air of vindictive pleasure, scribbled a zero onto his notes before moving away. Once Harry had cleaned up his station, he had left the stuffy room feeling particularly miserable.

Slumped against a wall farther down the corridor to avoid being bothered, he ran a hand through his hair sighing. He looked up when a shadow fell over him, expecting Sally-Anne or Theodore. His face fell when he saw who it was

"What's the matter with you?" Draco said with the ever-present Crabbe and Goyle hovering behind him. As soon as the other teen had said that, he looked like he hadn't meant to say anything.

"Snape failed me," Harry groused.

"…Really? That's…" Draco hesitated again.

"What?" Harry said, "You don't think he'd fail me because I'm a Slytherin?"

"No, I glanced at your potion. It looked fine to me." Draco peered at him. "Did you peek at your grade?"

"You think I'd assume he failed me because he glared at me?" When Draco opened his mouth to respond, Harry said, "Yes, of course I looked. He gave me a zero."

"Zero what?"

"Zero points, you git… Shorthand for Troll? I failed worse than Crabbe."

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other and then back to Harry. Crabbe opened his mouth, took a look at Draco, and said nothing.

Meanwhile, Draco's cheek had begun to twitch and then a nostril. He had obviously been practicing.

"I can hear you laughing, you ruddy git," Harry said miserably.

"Harry? What's wrong?" came a voice from his right. It was Sally-Anne, who looked between them uneasily. She probably thought they were about to come to blows.

"None of your business." He rubbed his face unhappily. He couldn't believe he failed Potions after all the time he'd spent in the greasy-haired bastard's smelly Potions Dungeon.

"He believes my godfather gave him zero points, shorthand for Troll," Draco said, his tone obnoxiously lighthearted. Harry glared at him.

A surprised burst of giggles exploded from Sally-Anne, startling Harry. "Oh… Oh poor you!" She said unable to contain herself.

"This is one of those 'fostering resentment' moments, isn't it?" Harry looked to her crossly, ignoring Draco's smug look.

"Well, think. I told you about Wizard grades yesterday, what does a zero look like to you?" She said.

Harry thought about it and thought some more, sore over being made fun of. He had to push his anger aside before he could figure it out. His eyes popped open in surprise. "I made an Outstanding!" He laughed with dizzying relief and was about to say a few choice words to Draco when he realized Draco and his two pawns had vanished.

"Yes! See? It's funny." Sally-Anne beamed at him.

"What's funny?"

Harry turned and nodded at Theodore.

"Harry mistook an O for zero points."

Theodore was still laughing when they entered into the Great Hall together for lunch.

"It's really not that funny," Harry repeated as Theodore giggled.

Lunch flew by, and then they headed to the windowless Ancient Runes classroom. The exam was nearly exactly as Sally-Anne had predicted. After they'd run the gamut of testing, Theodore turned to her. "Why aren't you in Divination? You have some Seer ability, don't you?"

"Because Professor Trelawney's methods are a waste of time for someone like me. I've had a dream journal ever since I was able to talk," she'd responded promptly.

"Ah, a Dream Seer. I suppose you inherited it from your mother…? She's a Rowle, a descendant of Morgana LeFay, right?"

Sally-Anne nodded.

"Morgana LeFay?" Harry asked shocked; he knew that name from the tales of King Arthur. "I had no idea."

"Nor did Draco. Once he realized that both of my parents were disowned from Pureblood families for being Squibs, he stopped treating me like a bug he needed to squash."

"So, why is your last name Perks?"

"My father was left with a Muggle Catholic orphanage. He was adopted by the Perks family."

That seemed odd to Harry. Judging by Malfoy and Parkinson, the Pureblood families didn't seem bad off to raise children. Why would they put a child up for adoption? Harry frowned in thought. Was it because Sally-Anne's dad turned out to be a Squib?

"—so I'll refuse, if either of my grandparents wanted me to take on their family name," Sally-Anne continued. "I think it's good for people to learn how to respect others even if they aren't part of the twenty-eight Pureblood families."

Harry's eyebrows knitted together. There were only twenty-eight of them? That didn't seem like a lot.

"Her father's a Selwyn, one of the four known bloodlines of Merlin," Theodore added conspiratorially.

At Harry's dazed expression, Sally-Anne laughed even harder. That meant that Harry was distantly related to the great Merlin, too!

"Oh, we could definitely have 'Let's educate the Muggle-borns on the proper respect owed to Pureblood families' bent to the petition. That way it'd get unanimous approval by the school governors, don't you think?"

"Definitely," Sally-Anne said dabbing her eyes dry. "Oh, thank you, Harry. I haven't laughed so much until I met you."

"Neither have I," Theodore said. "Or, frankly, any of the other Slytherins. There's this doddering good-naturedness about you that made our housemates question your placement at first… and then you proved your placement with a ruthless resourcefulness that marks you as one of us. It's refreshing to see an Illume Arts-leaning Slytherin."

So, the fact that Harry had resented his placement hadn't been missed at all. "You don't think I'm cunning?"

"You're learning," and that was all Theodore would say about it no matter how many times Harry asked.

When Harry returned with them to the common room after dinner, he realized he'd forgotten all about the duel. The Dueling Stage had been set up and the entire Slytherin House had turned out to watch the special session.

Snape was already standing on one end with Draco, and at the other was Prefect Tellwyenth standing as Harry's second. As soon as Harry was on the stage, Gilbert asked them what the terms of the duel was, that is, what the winner gained when their opponent lost.

Announcing such things wasn't something that Harry had done before. He wondered if this was a formal duel… After all, the last duel of the term should have occurred before exams even started.

"I expect Draco to respect Muggles, Muggle-borns, and Half-bloods with the due earned of sharing our common heritage," Harry stated fiercely.

"I expect Harry to respect my opinions and alternate viewpoints," Draco said. He then moved to the center.

Drawing his own wand, Harry met him in the middle, and they saluted each other with a short bow, the first time they'd ever done it since their first duel. They returned to their positions in front of their seconds.

"You know the rules," Gilbert said, "Begin!"

"Cheerium!" Harry cried out casting it the same way as he had during his Charms exam as Draco cast the longer Jelly-Legs curse. Immediately, Draco burst into hysterical laughter and was completely at Harry's mercy. "Flipendo!" Harry cast with a slash of his wand at Draco, his eyes following his path to the floor.

Draco was flung off his feet by the Knockback Jinx. His wand had been dropped on the stage. Even though he'd lost, Draco continued to laugh hysterically.

Snape looked at his godson with disgust and then said as if the words pained him, "Potter has won the duel." He swiped the air, removing the charm's effects from Draco.

Harry flourished his wand in a very Gilderoy-like manner and took a bow, knowing it would irritate the bastard further.

"Oh, yes. Go on and gloat, you arrogant idiot. Should we expect you to strut around too? You're just like your father."

"My father didn't strut." The black rage was beginning to filter into his head again. "And neither do I!"

"Your father was a rule-breaker because he believed a small amount of talent made him a cut above the rest and invincible," Snape went on, his thin face full of malice. "Rules were for lesser mortals, not Quidditch Cup-winners."

"SHUT UP!" Harry shouted. He heard the collective gasp from his housemates… and a feeling of dread descended upon him.

"Challenge accepted, Potter," Snape said nastily.

"But... But I didn't—"

"Ah, perhaps you should have learned the proper dueling protocol," he drawled. "Insults or blatant disrespect is taken as a direct challenge on a dueling stage… and as Draco's second I never conceded the right to duel you."

Harry closed his mouth as his heart pounded. He'd seen Snape in action on his birthday last year; there wasn't any way for Harry to win the duel when he couldn't perform wordless magic yet.

"Of course, if you were to request a handicap…" Snape chuckled darkly. "To better your odds, then I may or may not choose to abide by it."

His chest was hurting, and his palms were sweaty. "I request that…" Harry faltered. "The use of wordless magic is prohibited."

The bored Death Eater flicked his fingers, drawing his wand. "Handicap accepted, Potter."

Behind Harry, Gilbert said, "What are your terms, gentlemen?"

"Mr. Harry James Potter will obey the rules I set down to the letter and spirit that I expect from all other Slytherins."

Harry didn't even know if Snape had a middle name. "Professor… Severus Snape will stop bullying his non-Slytherin Potions students."

Snape gave him a flat look of contempt as if that was the last thing he expected and a very silly request. Harry ground his jaw down, knowing exactly what the greasy-haired bastard expected. It would be stupid to request that the Death Eater would stop being an overprotective nanny because he'd find a loophole like he had when he'd kept Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

The room was totally silent as Harry and their Head of House met at the center of the stage, bent forward slowly, and saluted one another. Snape's eyes were piercing black, merciless. Harry met them even though he'd really rather go crawl in a hole full of hungry red caps.

Once they were back at their starting places, Harry watched Snape stand in his dueling form, the same he'd used with Lockhart the previous year.

"Begin!"

Like a whipcrack, Snape's wand slashed outwards in a motion similar to Harry's favorite jinx and his voice rang, "FLIPENDO DUO!"

"Protego!" The shield held up only enough to take the much stronger Knockback Jinx. Harry found he was unable to reflect the extremely heavy spell towards Snape. In fact, he slid back a few inches just blocking it. "Everte Sta—"

"DEPRIMO!" Snape did a complicated swirl with the end of his wand which stopped with a sudden drop.

"PROTEGO!" Harry cast his perfected Shield Charm against the Crushing Jinx, and the stage crumpled under the weight despite the Hardening Charm on it; as soon as the spells had dissipated, Harry shouted, "Stupefy!"

But Snape cast his own Shield Charm which scattered Harry's spell into harmless fragments of light with a lazy drawl. "Is this the best we can expect from the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"STUPEFY!" The spell sparked against the shield that the adult had lazily cast again.

"You are an arrogant one-trick pony, Potter. Do you really believe you stand a chance against me?"

Blinding black fury roared through Harry, and then something unusual happened. Harry lifted his wand, swishing it idly, and hissed out, "Homenum—"

"Protego Maxima!" Snape's Shield Charm blossomed larger.

"—Inflamarae!" Distantly, Harry knew it was not a spell he had ever practiced before.

And the black flames did not breach the protective, crystalline bubble. And then, "Fianto Duri!" The shield around the one who dared to challenge him brightened, taking on a greenish hue, as Harry stepped into another wandform that was nearly as easy and direct as the Disarming Charm.

Harry snarled out, "CONFRINGO!" Snape's shield accepted the Blasting Curse as if it were a pesky beetle flying into an oncoming car.

Disturbed by what was happening, the small voice in the back of his head asked a rather annoying word: How? Another sinister, hissing voice, echoing from the depths of Harry's mind, answered, It doesn't matter how. No one speaks to me this way! Still empty of anything but anger and wrath, Harry giggled as he brought his wand up, enacting a rather complex wandform as if it were second nature.

"Protego Horribilis!" came Snape's shout.

"EXPULSO!" Harry screamed flinging the Imploding Curse at the Potions Master. Part of Snape's shield wobbled and collapsed, leaving a hole where it'd hit.

This one is worthy, rasped the voice, and then the rage that had blotted nearly everything out receded.

Blinking furiously at the disintegrating Shield Charm in front of him, Harry's fingers trembled as he panted. His scar was hurting. That's not—I couldn't have, Harry's mind stuttered. He stared at his shaking wand like it was a stranger. It was not normal for him to cast magic flawlessly without practice. After all he'd only read of those curses; how could he have possibly—

"My, my. What Advanced Dark magic, Potter," Snape sneered, "I didn't think you had it in you…"

Harry went white as a sheet. If the adult had chosen to reflect any of the spells, Harry's housemates might've been explosive balls of fire, blasted into smithereens, or sucked into a vacuum bomb. Harry was fighting down panic, completely forgetting where he was. "Sir, I—"

"Not so noble, are you? Filling your head with dangerous and destructive curses. You practiced until you reached optimal efficiency and lethal perfection of spellwork. Did you never imagine that you'd lose your temper, Potter?" Snape's voice was deathly cold.

Harry didn't know what he could say. He didn't think 'Sorry, I didn't know those spells' would cut it because one simply couldn't cast without full knowledge of the spell. It wasn't possible; it wasn't supposed to be possible.

The Death Eater's words cut through the utter silence of the common room. "Had you unleashed your wrath on another opponent… the dearly departed's family would have received a salve jar filled with sooty residue."

Hearing that, a strange separateness overcame Harry. He no longer felt the calculating eyes of his housemates; it was a state of horror so advanced that Harry's thoughts had become stuck like a clock whose drive gear continued even when the chain of sprockets linking it to the hand had been broken.

"Cantis!" Snape flicked his wand like a conductor's baton and suddenly Harry was compelled to sing 'God Save the Queen', much to the laughter of his fellow Slytherins. The strange jam of thoughts came loose, and Harry's face heated in humiliation.

With a flick, the rapidly deteriorating Shield Charm was terminated. Snape tutted loudly. "There are many ways to win a duel besides overpowering your opponent. I will tell you one: Holster your wand and bow if you wish to submit to your better."

Refusing to yield so easily, Harry waved his wand and attempted a wordless Knockback Jinx. When nothing happened, he tried a Throwing Hex, and then a Tickling Charm, followed by a Dancing Feet Spell. Each time with perfect wand form, but for some reason none of them would work when he silently used the incantations inside his head. The patriotic song had finished and then he began singing 'Happy Birthday'.

"Let me give you extra incentive. Anteoculatia." Snape twisted his wrist jerkily, pointing it at Harry's head.

Immediately, tall antlers twisted up, forming from Harry's black hair, and was greeted warmly by more laughter. Harry had never felt more humiliated as he tried to stand up straight with the extra weight on his head. Harry's face turned pink as he gasped for breath forcing the tears back mercilessly.

"Might I recommend you surrender before you embarrass yourself further by fainting?"

Finishing the song, Harry began to softly singing a lullaby that he didn't recognize. It made him feel warm—

"Flipendo," came Snape's even tone.

Something lightly pushed him off-balance, and Harry toppled off the stage, still tenderly humming in between the words unable to stop.

"I concede the duel to my better," Gilbert said graciously, "Harry Potter has lost. The demands placed on him will be followed."

With two swipes of his wand, Snape wordlessly canceled the spells on an exhausted Harry. "A piece of advice, Potter. You do not have the smallest hope of beating a challenger so long as they have greater emotional maturity than you currently possess."

Still on the cold floor, Harry stared at the pattern of dark grey and black flagstones, forcing the tears back. He pressed his forehead against the ground, the cool stone a balm on his scar.

By the time Harry had looked up again, the git had already banished the dueling stage, entered his office, and slammed the door shut. His housemates had dispersed.

A pale hand floated into view.

Snubbing Draco's hand, Harry sat up shakily. He'd never felt so drained before, not even when he was learning the Patronus Charm. Harry leaned against his knees when his wobbly legs refused to let him up. He brushed his fringe down self-conciously.

"You're like a newly born colt," Draco commented.

Wondering where Sally-Anne and Theodore had gone off to, Harry glared up at him. "I don't like you." What would they think to have seen such Dark Magic performed by him? Maybe Harry had scared his two friends as badly as he had scared himself.

"You'll move on or we'll duel again. Though I wager you'll think twice about challenging me, Harry."

Draco had planned this with Snape, Harry suddenly realized. He'd planned for this to happen! It was Draco's fault. "You twit."

"Please. You say that like you hate it." The other teen let out a little laugh. "I gave you the chance to fight my godfather on your own terms."

"You're mad if you think I wanted that!"

"Then why are you less frustrated?"

Blinking, Harry looked up hesitantly. Was he less frustrated? Draco offered a hand again, but Harry looked away from it, clutching his knees.

"Would you like some salve for your bruised ego, your Grace?"

"Don't call me that," Harry snapped.

"Why not?"

"I'm not a duke!"

Draco let out a little, disappointed sigh. "Don't you realize how amazing you are?"

"There's nothing special about me." And Harry wanted to believe it, desperately. He wasn't sure what had happened during the duel with Snape after he'd gotten so angry, but it was wrong; something was wrong with him.

"Nobody has ever put my godfather on the defense during a duel, not even my father." Draco paused for a moment as if he might correct himself, but then said, "Didn't you ever think it was strange that a Half-Blood was given Godfather status over the only heir of an important family?"

Harry shook his head, pressing a hand against the sore scar on his forehead. He wasn't thinking much of anything. He especially didn't want to think of how he knew how to cast such horribly Dark magic. "It was a fluke I made it so far. He beat me."

"I wasn't talking about your pathetic endgame. After you exhausted yourself, you were a sitting duck." Draco tsked, "Even beginners know not to go all-out too early."

"I hate you."

"So you keep telling me," came the light tone.

They sat there together in silence, until Harry was able to go back to the dormitory under his own power. With a smirk, Draco followed.

The next morning, the Defense Against the Dark Arts Exam had been an obstacle course using all the Dark creatures they'd face previously—excepting a real dementor. At the end, Harry faced his boggart-dementor using a Ludicrous Charm.

"Excellent, Harry," Professor Lupin muttered as Harry passed. "Full marks."

Flushed with his success—and lingering muscle fatigue from the duel yesterday—he hung around to watch the others successfully get through. Only Crabbe had gotten confused by the hinkypunk's misleading directions and ended up in waist-high quagmire and Goyle had been thwarted by the McGonagall-boggart who kept screaming at him to open his 'Inner Eye!' Everyone else had done admirably all the way through.

Lunch went by in a blur with Theodore and Sally-Anne who never mentioned the duel from the night before, and then the last exam of the semester, Herbology, occurred in the baking sun; the third years did all sorts of planting and re-potting before they penned in answers to a single parchment full of questions. By the time Harry had finished, his neck had become completely sunburned.

They went inside the cool, dark castle once again. Theodore offered Harry some salve to clear up his painful, pink skin and Harry accepted with thanks. He slathered it onto the affected areas and within moments the pain had gone away.

Once he returned to the dormitory and opened his trunk, his heart nearly stopped. He'd forgotten all about Salazar Slytherin's request! He grabbed the letter opener Pansy had given him and the books he borrowed from Prefect Dedworth and left without answering his roommates' questions. He hurried through the common room and past the portrait. Turning down the corridor, he tapped the wall with his wand, "The greatest knowledge is meaningless without integrity," he hissed.

The wall slid slightly aside, and Harry squeezed through, calling up light from his wand to help him see. At the other end, he passed into the larger chamber and the wall slid shut behind him.

"Harry Potter," Salazar Slytherin said, "Wes hāl."

"Sorry," Harry said, hurrying over as the fire jumped up in each of the holders along the wall. "Sort of forgot. Hope you aren't angry. You don't look angry." Harry stood in front of the painting.

"Ic þæt ne undergiete," Slytherin said in that strange almost-German language and then harrumphed. He steepled his pointy-nailed hands together. "Doing much mischief, have you?"

Harry's cheeks colored.

"A little of Godric must reside in your bloodline. Attracting trouble was a great skill of his."

"People have said that I inherited it from my dad… I've seen photos and I do look a lot like him."

"Photos? Are these paintings?"

"Er, no. They are photographs. There's this box that you point at people and it captures the image, and puts it on paper without painting and it looks exactly like the person. They react to you and move in the same way over and over again, but only with a short period and they don't talk back." Harry only knew the last part because he'd tried before. "I can bring you a photo album next time…" Harry held the books up for him. "Where did you want these?"

Salazar Slytherin pointed at a large wooden podium too big to move by hand. "Levitate that to a place before me."

Harry thought a moment since it was not one of the usual objects he'd levitated in Professor Flitwick's class before. He drew his wand and pointed it without moving, concentrating. "Mobilipodium." It didn't move. "Mobilipodius." This time it lifted, and Harry tipped his wand up slowly pointing it until the podium had floated to a place in front of the painting. With a thump it landed, since the levitation spell was only a temporary effect.

"Well done. So that both may open at once, place the books side by side with space between."

"I'm not sure how much French has changed since you were around… but these were recommended by a language lover."

After Harry placed them, the books suddenly opened to the very first page. The title of the first one was Dictionnaire Français-Anglais: Vocabulaire Anglais essentiel-~-English-French dictionary: Essential French Vocabulary.

Beneath that were statements one beneath the other:
Includes The Terminology of Today! Highlights Canadian Terms
Retrouvez la terminologie d'aujourd'hui! Comprend le Français du Canada

The other title was Grammaire Français-Anglais - English-French Grammatica and was plain in comparison.

Slytherin stroked his beard thoughtfully as he looked at them. "Some words to be explained, but these will suffice splendidly for now."

"Do I need to turn the pages?"

The bald wizard smiled and moved to the side in the painting where a podium had appeared with two books. He turned a page of the dictionary in the painting and the real one turned a page.

"That's brilliant," Harry said in English.

"Ic þe þancie," Slytherin replied.

"Did you just tell me thanks?"

"Than-kahs? Gese," Slytherin's expression was amused.

"Yes?" Harry queried.

"Yeh-zeh," the portrait said again more slowly.

"What's no?"

"Hwæt'ss nese?"

"No is neh-zeh," Harry stated.

"Nese is no," Slytherin responded, his eyes gazing at him shrewdly.

Harry blinked realizing that the Founder must use a really old form of English. "Is Eng-li-sheh… Old English?"

"Englisce is Auld Eng-lish," Salazar agreed.

"If I had known I would've asked for Old English to English books!" Harry shook his head at himself. He should have thought of that. He'd already read quite a bit of the varied wars, both Muggle and Wizard, in Western Europe, so it'd made sense if the original language of England would be affected that.

"What is that in your hand?" The Founder asked him abruptly.

"It's rumored to be your letter opener."

Slytherin laughed as if he'd meant it as a joke. "It is an opener of sorts, but not usually for letters. Use the phrase," Slytherin said an incomprehensible string of words. The only part of which Harry caught was 'to'.

"More slowly please?"

Slytherin harrumphed, but Harry was able to form a likeness to what he was supposed to repeat. Immediately the snake's emerald eyes twinkled and then its silver body which made up the handle squirmed. Harry very nearly dropped it.

"I, who belonged to Salazar Slytherin and forged by Shardclasp, am yours to command."

Harry looked up at the painting from the talking letter opener. "That's bloody brilliant."

"Now say: Yuh-man to yu-theh."

Slightly worried about what was about to happen, Harry repeated the phrase.

The snake coiled and thickened in Harry's hand and then the short blade shot out, flaring at the edges. The letter opener had become a rather unwieldy sword in his hands. There was now a black hilt-guard and the snake's jaw was wrapped around a large round emerald. Harry gaped at it. "She's beautiful."

"Now say: Slæp, sweord."

"Sleep, sword," Harry told the snake. The blade retracted like a cat's claw and Harry was left with a heavy letter opener. "Wicked!"

"Now. Go away. Learning a new language requires time and concentration."

"Er…"

Salazar Slytherin looked up sharply from his books. "Yehz?"

"School term's almost over, so I won't be here again until September First…" Harry tried not to feel unnerved when another page on the podium was turned. He'd never seen a painting manipulate the real world before.

"Bēo gesund, Harry Potter."

"Bay-oh yeh-soond, Mr. Slytherin," Harry parroted, thinking it meant goodbye. The bald-headed Slytherin was reading the grammar book with a look of intense focus. Harry left through the sliding wall again, wondering what he was going to do with Slytherin's sword.

"Harry!" Someone whispered behind him.

He turned. "Hermione?"

"It is murder trying to find you alone." The Gryffindor eyed him up and down. "What's that in your hand?"

"A letter opener. I received it from Pansy for my birthday. It detects poison."

"I suppose you'd have to watch out for that at meals," Hermione said, looking a bit green.

"Er. Why were you looking for me?"

"Oh! Did you forget that you were invited for tea? It's tonight."

Harry gave her an embarrassed smile. "Yes, I forgot. As much as I'd like to, I can't."

She blinked at him. "Well. Why can't you?"

"It's complicated." Harry didn't want to get into details about losing the duel to Snape.

"You'll have to tell me later then."

Not likely, Harry thought.

"Dinner's being served in the Great Hall. Thought you might like to know since Snape gives you detention when you miss."

"Will you walk with me?"

"I don't see why not."

After many turns with Hermione chatting about esoteric Runic Patterns that she found fascinating and Harry wasn't so interested in, they stepped into the main corridor of the dungeon. Hermione finally took a breath, and Harry said, "Would you tell me how you're in Arithmancy and Divination?"

"I dropped out of Divination a couple weeks ago," she informed him primly.

"Oh. Then, how are you taking Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies at once?"

Hermione's eyes shifted for a brief second. "I can't say."

"Can't," he parroted.

"It's complicated," she said with an impish grin. Harry thought that like him she wouldn't reveal what it was.

"Does it involve time-traveling?"

Her smile faltered and went tight as if it were great effort to maintain. "If you don't want your mind addled, I'd keep your theories to yourself."

Harry fell silent at that. Did that mean it existed but was heavily restricted? It didn't take a genius to figure out why that would be. Harry's first thought had been to go back in time and murder Voldemort. It wasn't a huge stretch to think that others were unhappy with their lot in life and also wished to change how things had happened.

Hermione nervously began to fill the silence about how she thought she might've only gotten an E on her Astronomy final because she thought she made an incorrect calculation on her star chart creating an opposition between Jupiter and Saturn when there wasn't any. Harry let her talk even though his own calculations said that there was an opposition. No one was in sight. At the end of the corridor, Harry turned the corner and climbed the stairs with her.

In the Entrance Hall, Salazar Slytherin's portrait showed his back to the viewers as he continued to study.

"Wess haal!" Harry called out.

Slytherin snorted without raising his head. "Gōdne ǣfen, Harry Potter."

"Goad-neh ay-ven, Mr. Slytherin," Harry responded.

Hermione spluttered beside him.

"What?" He asked.

"According to Hogwarts, A History, none of the Founders' paintings have spoken to a living person since Headmaster Alfric Mondfrey in 1435! They simply aren't in their paintings in the Headmaster's Study!"

"You mean each of the Founders has a painting?" Harry continued across the room towards the doors of the Great Hall.

Hermione sighed. "You really ought to read that book, especially since ancient Magical artifacts are coming to life around you. I know I would."

"I'll look into it," he said. "I'll see you later."

"Later," Hermione agreed, and then they split ways.

Harry sat down next to Theodore, who'd been talking to Sally-Anne. Once he'd filled his plate and ate several bites of food, Sally-Anne asked, "Where were you?"

"Wandering around in the dungeons," he said.

"Worried about poison?"

"Er. Poison?"

Theodore pointed at the letter opener still in Harry's hand.

"We followed you when you left the portrait-hole," Sally-Anne said, "But lost you after you turned into the dead-end."

Harry hesitated.

"What'd you find?" Theodore asked.

"Slytherin's Personal Study."

Their eyes grew wide, and they exchanged a glance.

"So," Theodore began nonchalantly, "Is the letter opener a key?"

"Wha—no. It's not. There's a password to his study in Parseltongue."

Their eyes kept flicking to the letter opener as if guessing its true purpose. Harry let out a sigh. "This… is a sword," he told them.

"I've heard of Slytherin's Locket… but nothing of a sword…" Sally-Anne said.

"That's right," Theodore added, "When you hear of a Founder's sword you think of Godric Gryffindor."

"Well, if Slytherin and Gryffindor were friends—"

"Friends?" Sally-Anne repeated with disbelief, while Theodore exclaimed, "They were mortal enemies!"

"I thought so too," Harry said to them. "But when I talked to Slytherin's painting—"

"You talked to him?" Sally-Anne's tone had grown tight with awe.

"Are you going to let me finish?"

"Pardon my disrespect, your Grace, I meant no offense," she said.

Irritated by the title, Harry rubbed his face. "He referred to Godric Gryffindor as 'Godric' and sounded like they were generally on good terms. He even said I somewhat reminded him of Godric and it didn't sound like an insult."

"I suppose next you'll tell us that Slytherin wasn't a blood purist," Draco's voice hovered next to him sarcastically.

"His exact words? 'Absolute codswallop'," Harry told Draco. "And you shouldn't be eavesdropping on people."

Draco snorted. "Find one of Slytherin's journals and then we'll put that controversy to rest. It's unfortunate that they've been missing for nearly five hundred years. Everything we know about our House's Founder is from either the other Founders or his sponsors' accounts and everyone knows perception is a matter of opinion."

"Next time I'm in his study I'll look for them."

"…You found Slytherin's Study?"

"You all act like this is an accomplishment."

"No one has set foot in that revered space since Salazar Slytherin left Hogwarts in 1022," came Draco's dry remark.

"Are you going to let the rest of us see it?" Theodore wiggled excitedly.

"Maybe next year when he isn't studying modern English." Harry took another bite of a roll.

"You mean to say that not only have you rediscovered a path into Slytherin's Study but you have also spoken to a portrait that went inactive over half a millenium ago? I thought you weren't his Heir?" Draco said in an accusatory tone.

"He said I wasn't a direct descendant if I couldn't control the basilisk," Harry informed him. "So technically I'm not his heir."

"You might as bloody well call yourself the long-lost Great-Nephew of Slytherin."

Harry noticed quite abruptly that the Slytherins around him had stopped chatting amongst themselves. He was horribly reminded of his start-of-year feast his first year. "Look, that's enough," Harry said quietly. "I want to finish my meal without interruption." He looked pointedly at his housemates and many of them found other things to eat or talk about.

"Of course." Draco backed into a slight bow and sauntered down the table.

At a peculiar sensation, Harry looked up at the High Table. Snape's beetle-black eyes were staring at him. Harry dropped his gaze and imagined locking his cupboard again and the tickling sense faded away. "Don't read my thoughts," he grumbled before he stuck a large apple in his mouth and chomped down.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"I was talking to myself, Theo."

"Oh, carry on then."

Harry really would have liked to have a cuppa with Hagrid that evening. It was too bad he had lost the duel... Though... had he won it, Snape might have been sent to St. Mungo's.

The Slytherin suddenly found he had very little appetite after that.

Afterword: Old English again. Keep in mind the words change depending on if you are referring to male or female or single person or a group.

Wes hāl = Wess haal = Hello

Ic þæt ne undergiete = I don't understand

Ic þe þancie = I thank you.

Gese = Yeh-zeh = Yes

Hwæt= What

Nese is no = Neh-zeh is no = No is no

Englisce is Auld Eng-lish = English is Old English

Guman to guþe = Yuh-man to yu-theh = Warriors to Battle

Slæp, sweord = Sleep, sword

Beo gesund = Bay-oh yeh-soond = Goodbye

Gōdne ǣfen = Goad-neh ay-ven = Good evening