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The day of Rowena Ravenclaw's funeral was beautiful and sunny. The ceremony had just ended, and Salazar was feeling heavy at heart when he was approached by Godric and Helga. Though the reminder of his time at Hogwarts stung, Salazar greeted them genially, accepting Helga's kiss on the cheek and Godric's firm hug.
"Only two of us left at the school, now," Helga commented sadly. "And it was all so fast, too. One day she skips breakfast claiming weakness, and within a fortnight the disease takes her life." Salazar patted her hand comfortingly.
"It was enough time for her to leave a will, though." Godric commented. "And she actually had a last request for you. Would you follow us to the castle? We can discuss it in our office."
"Of course." Salazar commented, concealing his surprise. While he had been very close with Rowena, Godric, and Helga, and still considered them his best friends to this day, in the three years since he had left Hogwarts he had not kept in very good touch with his fellow founders. What kind of request was Rowena hoping he would fulfill for her?
When they reached the gates of Hogwarts, Salazar had to swallow a lump in his throat. He hadn't been there since abandoning the school, and despite having his own house now, Hogwarts was still home to him. The place he and his friends had poured their hearts into, and where he had spent the best years of his life.
He dutifully ooh-ed and ah-ed over all the new additions to the castle, and admired the two new towers that now adorned the castle. He was especially eager to see the enchantments on the ceiling of the great hall, and was suitably impressed at the image of the sky outside that now reflected in it. Finally, they reached the old staff lounge, where the four of them had spent so many evenings working and planning, and accepted the package that Godric handed him.
He frowned as he removed twelve vials of blood from the package, before unrolling the parchment and reading what Rowena had written.
She wrote about how she had been working on some very important research involving the dark curse that had been cast on the elf race, enslaving them by force to wizards. She feared that after her death there would be no one interested enough in their cause to continue her research. That did not surprise Salazar. Rowena had often mourned the fact that most witches and wizards were far more interested in having a convenient household servant than they were in giving the elves back their freedom and their dignity. Salazar hoped she didn't expect him to continue her research for her. He had seen for himself how much arithmancy was involved in her research, and he hated arithmancy. Not to mention he was terrible at it.
No, it didn't appear that she expected Salazar to take over for her. How curious.
I have concluded that the only person I trust to continue my research into the plight of house-elves is myself.
Where was she going with this?
As you know, Salazar, magicks of the soul have always been of particular interest to me. While I unfortunately find myself in a situation in which I will not have enough time to confirm my theories, I have been working in my spare time on a project involving the phenomenon known as reincarnation. On the other side of this parchment you will find the instructions for a ritual designed to transport you to the new body my soul will inhabit once it is reborn into this world. Enclosed you will find the twelve vials of my blood required for the ritual. The rest of the ingredients can be found within my personal storage room, which you have my full permission to raid. Please take all my notes, and pass them on to my next incarnation once you find her.
The woman was crazy! Of course, Salazar had always known that, so it wasn't a complete surprise. Still, he had not expected this.
The rest of the letter continued by thanking him in advance for doing this for her, and telling him how much his friendship had meant to her. Salazar had to discretely wipe away a tear at the simple concluding paragraph.
I eagerly await our next meeting, my friend.
All my love,
Rowena
There was a postscript at the end.
P.S. I am not sure how long it will take for my soul to be reborn into another body, so keep in mind that the ritual may transport you a few years into the future. Don't leave your fire running or your house unlocked before performing it.
And that explained why she had asked Salazar of all people to complete this mission for her. Of the three of them left, Salazar was the only one without a family to miss him if he upped and disappeared for a few years. The only two people who would notice his absence were in the room with him right now, and he had cut most ties with them three years earlier upon leaving the school. As far as Salazar was concerned, the ritual could even transport him one hundred years into the future without it making much of a difference.
He bid Helga and Godric goodbye, and stopped by Rowena's rooms to collect her notes and the ingredients necessary for the ritual and returned home. He also took the time to equip himself with a good strong translating charm, in case Rowena was born in a foreign country.
It took a few days for him to hide his money and his property to his satisfaction, and once he had confirmed that his belongings would be there for him when he reappeared, Salazar took a deep breath, performed the ritual, and left everything behind.
Once the world stopped spinning around him, Salazar allowed himself to look around curiously.
He found the location unexpected, though not unfamiliar. He was at Hogwarts. For some reason he had expected to find himself in a room with a midwife, hearing the sounds of the squalling infant that was Rowena. A quick glance, though, showed him that he was in the dormitory of some teen aged girls. He should have known that Rowena would be clever enough to design a ritual that would take him to a girl at her majority rather than a newborn. It saved him the trouble of waiting for her to be old enough to understand the research he was to thrust upon her.
Now, to find the bed that belonged to the new Rowena. He approached the nearest bed and pushed the hangings aside, slightly. They were, of course, Gryffindor red. Bloody sorting hat.
He examined the sleeping girl for a moment, and realized the flaw in the plan. He had no idea how to determine which of the girls was the reincarnation of Rowena. Would she look the same? Logic dictated that there was no reason for her to.
He shrugged, and moved over to check the bed on the other side of him, wondering if there was any point.
Aha! He had found the right girl. She had fallen asleep while reading, and her cheek was smashed up against the open pages. Three more books lay scattered at the foot of the bed. This was certainly the right girl. She even looked a bit like Rowena.
He leaned over her, ready to shake her awake as he had so many times before, only to pause at the last moment. There was no way for her to know who he was in this lifetime. If she woke up to a strange man shaking her awake, she would be understandably frightened. No, better to wait for her to awaken on her own.
Now that he knew the new Rowena's face, there was no need for him to dither there, in that room full of sleeping girls. The very thought made him feel like a degenerate. He made his way down to the common room and settled down in one of the comfortable couches to wait until morning.
He was harshly shaken awake by a forbidding looking woman, who had her wand trained to his chest. It was quite an unpleasant way to be woken up.
"Who are you?" He asked the woman, a tad ruffled at her rude treatment of him.
That was obviously not the right question. The woman seemed to swell with indignant rage. "Who am I? I am awakened at 6 a.m. by a hysterical student telling me there is a strange man sleeping in the Gryffindor common room. Nobody here has seen you, or knows who you are, and you have the nerve to ask me who I am?"
"Well, when you put it like that," Salazar conceded, scratching his head, "I suppose you do have a good reason to be suspicious. But see here- I wasn't expecting to go this far forward in time, I thought that there would still be some people around here who knew me. I am Salazar Slytherin. Surely you've been expecting me at some point, the others knew where I was going. Now, tell me, how long has it been since I left?"
The woman's wand was now pointed at his head. She looked like a coiled spring, ready to snap at a moment's notice. "You will come with me," she said slowly, "to the Headmaster's office."
Salazar knew there was a time to argue and a time to obey. He tried to look as meek and as non-threatening as he could as he sat up and reached for his wand.
"No!" she snapped, "You can have your wand once the Headmaster has determined that you are not a threat."
Salazar sighed but complied, getting up off the comfortable couch and following the grumpy shrew to the door.
As he walked near this new head of Gryffindor House, wand pointed at his head, Salazar could not help but glance around him at the castle in amazement. So many things were different that he hardly knew where to look. He must have traveled at least a hundred years forward in time. How long did it bloody take Rowena to get reborn?
All in all, Salazar decided that he liked the new decor. It lacked the familiar comfort and nostalgia that the castle he had left had given him, but it seemed to be jam-packed with interesting new doors and secret passageways. He was especially impressed with the moving spiral staircase that led to the Headmaster's current office.
The headmaster was a kind and cheerful looking old man, and when he smiled at Salazar and introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore, Salazar nearly groaned. If someone as old as the Headmaster hadn't been in Hogwarts when Salazar left, he must really have traveled a long way forward. At least a century and a half.
"Albus," The woman who was still pressing her wand to his head said tightly, "This man was found sleeping on the couch in Gryffindor common room. He claims to be Salazar Slytherin, and he won't say how he got in or what he is up to."
"Hey now!" said Salazar angrily, "You never asked me any of that! I'd have been more than happy to tell you everything."
Albus Dumbledore smiled. "Please, Mr. Slytherin, have a seat." He gestured with his hand. "I'd be delighted to hear all about it. You too, Minerva, sit. You look quite stressed. Would you like a nice hot cup of tea?"
"No thank you." said Minerva primly, shooting Salazar a suspicious look as she sat down next to him.
"Very well," Dumbledore said, still smiling. "Now, Sir, if you will. We would like to hear your tale."
Since apparently, his colleagues had been remiss in passing on word of his legacy and what had become of him, Salazar resigned himself to telling the whole story.
He explained about Rowena's will, her work with the house elves and the ritual, and ended with finding himself in the sixth year girls' dormitory in Gryffindor tower.
"And did you find this girl, who is Rowena's incarnation?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
"Certainly," Salazar informed him. "I recognized her the moment I saw her. She'd fallen asleep while reading a book and was drooling all over it, it was far too familiar a pose for me not to recognize. She even has the same curly brown hair as before."
"Does she now?" Albus Dumbledore smiled widely. "Minerva, dear, would you be willing to do me a favor? Go to Gryffindor tower, find Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, and bring them here to me."
"Very well," Minerva said, looking a bit more relaxed now that Dumbledore seemed to have everything under control.
"And bring my wand back too," Salazar said, trying his luck.
He got a glare for his troubles, but then she sighed and nodded.
"Don't worry about Minerva, she'll come around once she sees there is nothing to worry about," Dumbledore said soothingly.
Salazar frowned pensively. "She is right to distrust me. How do you know that I am not some- some horrible person with bad intentions towards your students?"
"My dear Sir!" The Headmaster exclaimed, "I assure you that the students are protected by far more than those silly little spells that keep the boys from entering the girls' rooms. If your intentions had been less than honorable, you would have received quite a different reception, have no doubt about it. Besides, I am an excellent judge of character! I could see from the start that you were of a good sort."
Salazar himself was a more suspicious man, but since the Headmaster's trusting nature seemed to work in his favor, he didn't question it.
"Tell me, then," he said, changing the subject, "how long it has been since I've seen Hogwarts. How much time has passed since Rowena died?"
"How long do you think it's been?" Dumbledore answered, annoyingly, with a question.
"None of that now!" Salazar said, though it felt a bit uncouth to address such an elderly man so rudely. He reminded himself that he was, technically, at least a century older than the man. "I've already realized that I've traveled farther into the future than I had planned, so please just give me a straight answer. There is no need to break it to me slowly."
"One thousand years," Dumbledore replied.
Salazar felt a bit faint. Well, he had certainly asked for it.
"Give me a second to think this through," he requested quietly. Dumbledore nodded obligingly and remained quiet until Minerva returned with his wand and the two people Dumbledore had told her to summon.
One of them was New-Rowena, and Salazar smiled at her affectionately. The other was a scrawny young man with jet black hair and a strange scar on his forehead.
"Ah, Miss Granger and Mr. Potter!" Dumbledore exclaimed welcomingly at the two. "Miss Granger, a visitor has come a long way in order to see you. This is Salazar Slytherin. Mr. Slytherin, we know this young lady as Hermione Granger."
"Salazar, please," Salazar quickly cut in, impatient with polite formalities upon meeting his old friend anew.
"Salazar Slytherin?" Rowena repeated. She sounded skeptical, which was understandable since to her knowledge he had died a millennium ago. "The Hogwarts founder, Salazar Slytherin?"
"The one and only," Dumbledore replied. "Which brings me to you, Harry. Would you be so kind as to exchange a few words in Parseltongue with Salazar here? Just so we can be sure he is who he claims to be."
This was very strange to Salazar. After all, speaking Parseltongue was hardly proof of his identity. There were many other Parselmouths in the world. Surely, asking the Sorting Hat to vouch for him would be a better way of determining he really was Salazar Slytherin.
Salazar suspected that there was some other reason that Dumbledore wanted this young man to be present in the conversation, and the Parseltongue was just an excuse. Being a stranger to this time, though, Salazar had no idea what that reason might be. He decided to let it go for the moment.
"Would you like to conjure a snake?" He asked Potter politely. "I would do it myself, but she has my wand." He gestured at Minerva.
She raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him in return. "Why would you need to conjure a snake?"
"Well," Salazar replied, "I don't know about him, but I need to see a snake in order to be able to speak Parseltongue, it doesn't just happen on demand."
Potter nodded. "It's like that for me too." He obligingly conjured a snake, and Salazar exchanged a greeting with it in Parseltongue.
"There." he said, looking around. "Is that good enough for you?"
"Well, I understood him perfectly, so if it sounded like hissing to the rest of you it really was Parseltongue." Potter replied. "But I don't see how that's proof that he's Salazar Slytherin. After all, we do know other people who can also speak Parseltongue." He gave the Headmaster a pointed look.
"My thoughts exactly!" Salazar replied, "Surely asking the Sorting Hat to confirm my identity is a better way for me to prove myself."
"While I have my own ways of determining whether he's of any danger, and I can assure you, Harry, that if he were Voldemort in disguise I would know about it, it certainly wouldn't hurt to ask the Hat." The old Headmaster replied.
"Well, he definitely looks like Salazar." The Hat declared from behind the Headmaster. "Plop me on his head. I'll have a look at his brain and tell you for certain."
"Oh, this is Salazar alright." The hat said out loud. "I never thought I'd see you again. We'd all thought you had botched the ritual and ended up in little pieces all over the countryside. Or maybe that that charming ex-lover of yours had come back for revenge after that time you-"
"That's enough out of you." Salazar said, swiftly pulling the hat off his head.
He turned back to Dumbledore. "Is that good enough for you?"
"Quite." Replied the man with a genial smile.
"In that case, I will proceed with my mission. My lady," turning to New-Rowena, "I come to you with an important task- given to me by Rowena Ravenclaw herself."
"You come to me? Me specifically? What could I possibly do? How would you even know about me?" she interrupted him.
Ah, his same old friend- always unable to be patient when in pursuit of knowledge. Salazar gave her a smile that was half exasperation and half fond remembrance. "Allow me to continue, my dear. All shall be explained in due time. Within the next five minutes, in fact- it should not take long to tell you everything. And once I am done explaining everything, you may ask as many questions as you wish."
She had the grace to look repentant, which she had never done before. Salazar attributed it to her youth; he was now some years her senior, rather than the other way around.
Salazar continued: "Before Rowena died, she had a project she was very passionate about. Whenever she was not teaching, she dedicated herself to the mystery of the dark magic which enslaved the house-elves, and tried to discover how they might be freed again."
New-Rowena's face lit up in a familiar look of excitement, and she opened her mouth. Salazar knew from experience that a litany of questions was about to spill out of it, and gave her a stern look. She closed her mouth again, subsiding with a slightly sheepish look.
"Rowena knew she was dying, and she did not want all the work she had done on the matter to have been for nothing. She did not trust anyone else in the magical community to continue her research, since most wizards would not want to give up their willing slaves. Thinking that no one but herself could accomplish her mission, she set upon a most interesting plan: She had done some research into the rebirth of souls in new bodies after death, and put together a ritual that would send me, along with her notes detailing her research, to the new person her spirit was reborn in. These notes are now shrunk and in my pockets, and I shall proceed to give them to you."
This silenced her for a few moments, but she soon recovered. "You're saying that I'm the reincarnation of Rowena Ravenclaw?"
Salazar nodded.
"There must be some mistake." she protested, "It doesn't make sense for me to be Ravenclaw-I'm in Gryffindor!"
"Well, of course you are." Salazar sighed "The Hat always puts the best ones in Gryffindor. I can assure you, my lady, and you are who I say you are. I have complete trust in Rowena's instructions."
"What do you mean when you say that the Hat puts the best ones in Gryffindor?" New-Rowena asked.
She had not noticed? But she had always been so observant! "Surely you know that the Hat is biased. Have you not noticed that it puts all the best children in Gryffindor and all bullies in Slytherin? I personally always said we should just expel all the Slytherins and we'd all have a much pleasanter schooling experience. Still, that Hat does occasionally put people in Slytherin for the right reasons, and it wouldn't be fair to them."
He frowned at the blank looks of surprise on their faces.
"I seem to have surprised you. Aren't all the bullies in Slytherin nowadays?"
"No, they still are," said the man who Salazar had yet to discover the importance of, the parselmouth, "but we all thought it was just because those were the sort of people you liked and wanted in your house."
Salazar frowned. "Well that's... Insulting. Though, I suppose it is also understandable. Given the amount of lowlifes my house is constantly saddled with, that belief is not so surprising. Allow me to assure you, though, that the nature of the children sorted into my house doesn't reflect my own values. It is simply that Godric enchanted the Sorting Hat, and in a truly brilliant though quite un-chivalrous move, he decided to dump all the bullies on me, so that he wouldn't have to deal with them." He sighed. "I suppose it's only fair. After all, I did manage to push all the muggle-born children onto the other founders, so I suppose it is only karma that I should end up with something even worse to deal with."
New-Rowena drew herself up proudly, a fierce glint in her eye. "I am muggle-born."
Salazar smiled at her warmly. "And I am sure you do our institution great credit, my dear. But, you see, it is very troublesome to teach you all to read at the beginning of each year, before even being able to get to the magic. I don't blame you, of course, for your lack of knowledge in the area. Muggles do not have the advantages we do, and many spend far too much time struggling to survive to take the time to get educated. It is not their fault, but I am afraid I am simply not patient enough a man to teach eleven-year-olds how to read and write. It is nothing personal, I hope you understand."
She deflated slightly at that. "You should know that the muggle world is different now. All muggle children here are educated from a young age. We all learned how to read by the age of six."
"Really? How delightful, you must tell me all about how such a change was instituted. In fact, I can think of no one better to apprise me of the important events of the past millennium."
New-Rowena began to nod eagerly, but the parselmouth, Potter, interrupted them. "Wait a second, something here's not right." He pointed to Salazar. "He looks nothing like the statue in the Chamber of Secrets."
"Of course I don't! Don't tell me you thought that was supposed to be me! How narcissistic did you think I was, to have a humongous carving of my face across a whole wall of my office?" Salazar grimaced at the thought. Imagine, that in this day and age, people thought that old monkeyish face belonged to him!
"Who is it, then?" Harry Potter asked, squinting at Salazar suspiciously.
"Some old philosopher." Salazar shrugged. "My studious younger brother was the one who decorated. The man had horrible taste, of course- you've seen how damp and depressing the place is, but I will admit that the prospect of interior decorating held no appeal to me, so when he offered, I took him up on it. I should have known better after he decided to put the Slytherin common room underneath the lake."
"But the password for making the mouth open was saying in parseltounge 'Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of Hogwarts four'! That implies that the statue is of Slytherin!"
"That's not the password," Salazar laughed. "The mouth will open for any words said in Parseltongue. The point was to prevent the basilisk from being released without the presence of someone who could control it. Whoever told you that was the right password was probably only trying to pull a joke; they were making you sound pretentious by using such a pompous phrase as the password."
"Actually," Potter replied, smirking a bit, "I think that the person I heard use that phrase was just genuinely that pretentious."
"Well, I can't say I don't know the type," Salazar shrugged, "but really-"
"Excuse me, Professor Slytherin?" New-Rowena interrupted, "The basilisk wasn't really put there to kill all muggle-borns, was it?"
"Ah, er- no, it wasn't," he replied guiltily, "I was working on some research regarding antidotes to the most potent poisons, and I needed a steady supply of basilisk venom. By the way, I would rather you called me Salazar."
"I wonder how the story became so distorted," she said, "Nowadays, everyone thinks the purpose of the Chamber of Secrets was for an heir of yours to return to Hogwarts and use the monster within to purge the school of muggle-borns."
"That might actually be my fault," Salazar admitted sheepishly, "Once the rumor surfaced that I had a basilisk, I was constantly being asked about it by students, and it became a bit tedious. So, when a first year muggle-born from Godric's house came up to me after a long day and began questioning me about if I really had a basilisk and what it was for, I told him that I'm biding my time until Godric was no longer there to protect them, and then I'll set the basilisk after annoying little muggle-born first years who ask too many questions."
Potter sniggered slightly at that, but Minerva gave him a disapproving look.
"It was only a joke!" Salazar said defensively, "Only he was a timid little thing, and I didn't know it at the time, but he was being bullied by some older students regarding his heritage, or lack thereof, and he became really upset. Godric was furious about it, and gave me a telling off for the ages. Anyways, it caused me to have a bit of a think, and I ended up realizing that I really wasn't a very good teacher. I didn't have the patience to teach and help little children grasp basic concepts, and many of them were too intimidated by me to ask questions when they didn't understand. My passion for Hogwarts came from the desire to give children the education I wished that I could have had as a boy, but that didn't mean that I was the best person to give them that education. I quit teaching after that. My friends were sorry to see me go, but I don't think the students were."
"Maybe he should have a heart-to-heart with Snape," Potter muttered to New-Rowena.
"Professor Snape," corrected Headmaster Dumbledore from behind him.
Potter scowled, but fell silent. Rowena, on the other hand, was constitutionally unable to keep silent for more than about five minutes unless she was deeply upset. She immediately turned back to Salazar. "Can I ask you another question?"
"You can ask me as many questions as you wish," he told he genially. Generally, it was him constantly pestering Rowena to explain to him some concept he didn't understand or didn't know about. He was enjoying this reversal of roles.
"Why did you put the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets where you did?" she asked.
Ah, he was particularly proud of that bit of magic. "Well, I don't know where the entrance is nowadays, what with the renovations and changes the castle has undergone in the past millennium, but the entrance is enchanted so that it will always come out next to the nearest mirror. It's a kind of added security measure. That way, if the basilisk ever manages to escape, somehow, it will exit into a room with a mirror, and hopefully petrify itself before it can do any harm. That was quite a tricky bit of magic, let me tell you. Took me ages to figure out."
Rowena blew out a long, shuddering breath, that sounded like relief.
"Why do you ask?" he had to inquire.
"It exits into the girls' bathroom," she informed him.
"Ah," he scratched his head. "Perhaps I should have foreseen that."
"Now that we've gotten our most pertinent questions about the past out of the way, I have a question for Mr. Slytherin about the future," the Headmaster said. "Mr. Slytherin, now that you've given Miss Granger the research, what do you plan to do next?"
Miss Granger? Who was that? Oh, of course, New-Rowena. Salazar sighed as he contemplated the Headmaster's question. "I'm not completely sure. I had a home, back then. I suppose I'll go back and see if it's still standing, though I don't hold out much hope. There was some research I was working on before I left, but it's probably no longer relevant. In a thousand years, I'm sure all the things I had hoped to discover have since been already found."
"What would you think of living in Hogwarts?" the old man offered.
Salazar could not help but smile. "Hogwarts has been my home from the very beginning, and I would like nothing more. I've already admitted to you, though, that I wasn't much of a teacher. Not enough patience."
"Maybe not to teach little children complex concepts, but perhaps some supplementary history lectures for the older students? You could tell them about the process of founding Hogwarts. Alternately, I could hire you to brew potions for the hospital wing. We always have need of those."
Salazar groaned. "I bloody hate potions. I'll take the history lectures."
"Of course," Dumbledore smiled from behind his beard. "Our past three potions masters have all been heads of Slytherin, and the two positions somehow became conflated in my mind. There is no reason for you to be especially talented at potions, though. History it is."
Salazar narrowed his eyes. "You're being awfully accommodating to a stranger that suddenly landed in your lap. Am I missing something?"
"Well," the Headmaster admitted, "There was a little favor I was hoping you could do for me. We're in the midst of a war, you see, and I think a little news piece that would boost moral could be just the ticket. Would you be willing to grant an interview with the local newspaper and claim in it that your mother was a muggle?"
Salazar looked around in puzzlement as the other occupants of the room laughed.
"It's no skin off my nose," he replied, shrugging indifferently. He didn't much mind lying; especially if he got a cushy job offer out of the deal. Still- "For the record, though, just so you know, my mother was a squib."