Full of Sound and Fury

Harry Potter had lived through quite a few things in his lifetime: 4 attempts on his life by various incarnations of the Dark Lord Voldemort, a Basilisk bite, a Hungarian Horntail out for his balls and his broomstick, Hermione trying desperately to drill some knowledge into his head, Ron's attempts at Quidditch "strategy," the Dursleys, and one incredibly insistent suitor in Draco Malfoy.

And he stood strong through all of it, taking it like a man where others would have broken.

Of course, none of those disasters was even a tenth of what he was going through now.

7th year Potions class for Gryffindor and Slytherin. With Professor Severus "I'm a greasy bastard" Snape.

"Longbottom," Snape started nastily, while looming over Neville in the front row. Harry rolled his eyes at Snape's theatrics. He had long since stopped being impressed. "Do the rest of the world a favor, and don't ever breed." Neville continued to stare down at his melted cauldron determinedly, but Harry could see his hands clench.

For Harry, this was the worst thing in his entire life. For two main reasons: Snape was hurting the people he cared about, and Harry himself couldn't do anything about it. Sure, he was expected to blast the most fearsome Dark Wizard of the century into oblivion without breaking a sweat, but stop Snape from harassing his friends? Nope. Not a chance. It was an interesting dichotomy, he always thought. Train a boy from a young age to fight, and then expect him to sit back and watch someone on his side being tortured. Even if the torture wasn't physical. Dumbledore was a strange one, and as the years passed, Harry had slowly stopped trusting the manipulative old coot absolutely. Not that anyone else knew that. He sometimes wondered if it was the Slytherin part of him stopping him from speaking up.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said acidly, as if reading his thoughts, "do you have something you'd like to share with the class?" Snape waved his hands in an inviting gesture.

Harry felt a buzzing in his ears that resisted Hermione's frantic attempts from behind him to get him to sit down and not do anything. "No, Professor Snape." He gritted his teeth and got a death grip on the counter in front of him. If this kept up, he'd have stubs for teeth left by the time the school year ended in six months.

Snape looked down his abnormally long nose at Harry and smiled nastily. "I thought not, Potter." He turned his glare on the Gryffindor side of the class. "And since I see that almost none of you," and unbelievably enough, Snape shot a scowl at the Slytherin side as he said this. Harry looked over; all the Slytherin cauldrons besides Zabini's were an orange-red color. Harry surreptitiously checked Hermione's cauldron, hers was purple, the same as Zabini's. "Brewed this correctly, we will be revising over the holiday break." The class groaned. "I want three feet of parchment on this Potion as well as an explanation on why yours failed. Mr. Zabini, as you successfully mixed the Shielding Potion, you are exempt." Hermione rolled her eyes at that, but Snape caught the look. "And ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for being an insufferable know-it-all and thinking you've earned anything from me." He stalked back to the front of his classroom. "Get out of my sight, you all disgust me."

"It must be his time of the month," Harry heard Seamus whisper to Hermione as they packed up. Harry snickered a bit and poked Ron into stopping glaring at Snape long enough to gather his own things.

"You know, I'll miss a lot of things about Hogwarts," Hermione said determinedly, "but Snape is most definitely not one of them." Harry nodded his agreement, even while smiling wryly.

"You know, Hermione, you just insulted - albeit obliquely - a Hogwarts Professor." He raised his voice a bit, and put on his best impression. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

"Mr. Potter, you stay behind," Snape's voice wafted out of the classroom. Harry winced. He had a sneaking suspicion what that was about. Ron, Seamus, and Hermione gave him sympathetic looks. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It figured that Snape would be the one thing to break Ron out of his sulk at Hermione's new relationship. Especially as she had broken up with him in order to start dating Seamus. Harry didn't really see what the big deal was - they spent their entire relationship arguing. Bitterly, heatedly, and constantly. It wasn't a stimulating challenge for either one of them - the other thing it seemed to stimulate was rage. And from what Hermione had told him, Harry gathered neither one of them bothered with the make-up sex afterwards either.

"Go on, then, I'll meet you in Charms," Harry told them. Maybe it'd give the three of them enough time alone to try and work out some of Ron's issues regarding Hermione dating Seamus. Or let it turn into a spectacular blow out. Harry just didn't have the energy to mediate anymore. He waved them off, stepped back into Snape's classroom, and shut the door. "Sir."

Snape sat down at his desk. Harry walked up to stand in front of the desk. He noticed a few strangely mangled objects, a bit of broken glass, and some liquid spreading over the desk. "Mr. Potter." He sighed. "Do you recognize what these are?" He pointed to the things on the desk. Harry shook his head. "Those were vials of Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin. There were Unbreakable Charms on those vials." Harry winced. "And they were fine before your little temper tantrum."

"I'm sorry, sir. I'll pay for new ingredients."

"That will be a good start, Potter. If you expect to do any good in this war, you need to be able to control your temper."

"I know, sir." And if you weren't such a bastard, it wouldn't be a problem, you greasy git, Harry added mentally. "So this wasn't -"

"About your abominable performance during our last raid?" Harry sighed. Oh yes, he was in for it. "Don't worry, Mr. Potter, we'll get there. We just have to take it one step at a time." Snape smirked.

"Now. As for the Wolfsbane, you will replace all the ingredients and report to me tonight in order to help brew it. It will be," Harry blinked, that was the closest thing to a smile he'd ever seen on Snape's face, "an exercise in control."

"Yes, sir." Harry sighed. That meant skipping dinner in order to gather the Aconitum from the Forbidden Forest. The other ingredients were more common, and Snape would most likely have them in stock. That meant, of course, dipping into his money stash to replace them.

"As for your performance, you'll be spending the next two weeks with me, working on your Trapping Charms. I should think that's a suitable enough punishment to induce you to get it right."

"Yes, sir." Harry looked down. As if he didn't feel bad enough about that already.

Two weeks ago, Harry'd had a vision about Voldemort and his plans to storm the Ministry of Magic. He'd gone along with other Order of the Phoenix members, Dumbledore had paired him with Snape as Sirius was busy helping Charlie in Romania stop Death Eaters from killing dragons for their hearts - the essential ingredient in several Dark Arts poisons and healing potions. Neither Harry nor Snape had been pleased by the arrangement. In the chaos, Harry had spotted Wormtail and took off after him, leaving Snape - and his position - behind. Snape had been furious at the time, and only Harry telling him he had caught Wormtail had kept the Potions Master from exploding.

Of course, when they arrived where Harry had secured the rat, they had found the Trap Charm empty.

It had been faulty.

"Perhaps," Snape went on, "after two weeks training with me, your gross incompetence will be alleviated to the point that you won't get someone else killed."

"Yes, sir."

Snape took a long look at him. "Potter," he started. Harry looked up. Snape opened his mouth, and then shut it. He waved toward the door. "Oh, get out." Giving Snape a puzzled look, Harry did as he was told. He'd have to run to make it to Charms on time.

Gasping for breath, Harry made it to the Charms classroom just before Professor Flitwick was about to shut the door. "Sorry," Harry apologized, taking his seat.

"Today we'll be working with Family and Blood Charms. Does anyone know what those are?" Harry rolled his eyes. Hermione's hand was in the air the fastest, but Harry's soon joined it. "Miss Granger?"

"Lineage tracing is the most commonly used version of the spell."

"Correct, Miss Granger, five points to Gryffindor." Harry kept his hand in the air. "Mr. Potter?" Flitwick sounded surprised. It wasn't unheard of for Harry to volunteer information, but for him to have something to contribute after Hermione'd answered was definitely unusual.

"Blood Charms, used in conjunction with some Family Charms, not only trace lineage, but can also be used to trace magical inheritance as well - see compatible auras and magics. It's a good way of judging partners before any major works - especially in the Dark Arts - are performed."

Flitwick's startled expression became even clearer, and Harry thought he detected a hint of worry as well. He snorted. As if the teachers didn't know he was learning Dark Arts with Snape and Dumbledore. How else was he expected to kill Voldemort? Hit him with Jelly-Legs and Laughing Hexes until he laughs himself to death? Harry supposed it was better not to display that he was learning Dark Arts in classes, but this information was even found in their textbook. "Very thorough, Mr. Potter. Ten points to Gryffindor. Now I want you all to pair up - you'll be trying the Charm on your partner. If the spell works correctly, you should see a listing of your partner's direct ancestry appear in the air."

Harry grinned and turned to Ron, but the redhead had already grabbed Hermione. Harry looked at Seamus and shrugged. "After you."

Seamus smiled a bit wistfully; it seemed as if he was just as tired of Ron as Harry was. He pointed his wand at Harry and spoke the spell word. "Cognatus Priores Resero."

Harry felt an intense pressure on his body, as if the air was compressing directly onto him. None of the books had described this as being the reaction to the spell.

Suddenly the air released, and Harry felt something crash into him. He landed on the floor, with the object - the body - on top of him. He opened his mouth to say "What the hell?" but all that came out was a jumbled groan. The body on top of him didn't seem much better either. If only because the body laying on top of him was unconscious.

Harry gingerly pushed the dead - and he sincerely hoped that wasn't the case - weight off and stood up. Looking down, he saw that the body was just a teenager, most likely not much older than Harry himself. The stranger was wearing a simple brown tunic, clutched a wand in his hand, and had hair that looked suspiciously familiar. Harry looked up at Seamus.

"I didn't do it," he said quietly, holding his hands up defensively.

"Oh my!" Flitwick fluttered over, taking in Harry's "guest."

"Only you," Harry thought he heard Ron mutter. He sighed.

"Professor, why don't I take, uh, him," Harry pointed to the boy, "to the Infirmary, and you send someone to get the Headmaster?"

"Ah," Flitwick was still staring at the visitor, "good Mr. Potter. Miss Granger, would you please?" Now Flitwick's stare was transferred to Harry. It was very unnerving.

"Right, Professor." Harry pointed his wand at the boy. "Mobilicorpus." He walked out of the room, and headed towards the Infirmary.

"And what do you think you're doing, Mr. Potter?"

Of course. How else would his day end?

"There was an accident in Charms. I'm taking him to the Infirmary. Hermione is going to get the Headmaster," Harry answered Snape's question without turning around.

"I see." Snape stepped up next to Harry. "I believe I shall escort you. I'm eager to hear what sort of accident this might have been to bring a complete stranger into Hogwarts."

Harry sighed. "Fine," he kept walking. "Sir?"

"What, Potter?" Snape sounded tired. Harry vaguely wondered why he didn't have class.

"Who do you think he is?"

Snape took a long look at the boy. And then frowned, looking somewhat puzzled. Harry snorted, the greasy git always did seem to have a bit of a compulsive need to know things. A bit like Hermione, really. Now it was Harry who was frowning. Not a thought he wanted to entertain - how one of his best friends and the Potions professor were alike. "I'm sure he'll tell us who he is when we wake him up, Mr. Potter." Snape's expression cleared, and moved back into the more familiar smirk. Harry rolled his eyes. Typical. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter." Snape looked around at the boy, and his frown reformed. "What exactly happened in your Charms class, Potter?"

Harry smirked, doing his best to mimic Snape's own triumphant expression. "I'd be happy to explain. To Professor Dumbledore."

Snape's frown deepened. "And that's another ten points, Potter."

Harry picked up his pace, and damned the Dursleys and their cupboards for stunting his growth. Snape's strides were almost double his.

And finally, they arrived at the Infirmary, where Dumbledore, Pomfrey, and Hermione were waiting for them. Hermione and Pomfrey both seemed surprised by Snape's presence, but Harry had long since decided that nothing fazed Dumbledore.

He hadn't even flinched when he'd sent Harry back to the Dursleys after the Triwizard Tournament without telling Harry the implications of the spell Voldemort had used to resurrect himself. Harry still trusted him - he had to trust somebody in this whole fiasco - but there were days he wondered just what Dumbledore's ultimate goal was. There was something there beyond simply defeating Voldemort, and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that plan had been in the works for a very long time.

It didn't help that he couldn't discuss his feelings with anyone. He looked over at his companion. Well, Snape might listen, Harry thought. Slimy git's certainly paranoid enough.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore sighed, taking in the visitor, "would you care to explain what happened?" They entered the Infirmary.

"Put him over here," Madam Pomfrey waved toward a bed in the back of the room. Harry levitated the body, and arranged him comfortably on his back.

"Does anyone have a clue as to who he might be?" He asked the room at large. A chorus of "nos" answered him back. Figures, Harry thought sourly.

"Thank you, Miss Granger, that will be all," Pomfrey said firmly. She turned to Hermione and started to shoe her out.

"Actually, Headmaster," Harry shot out quickly taking in Hermione's frustration. Her back straightened even more, and Harry saw her lips tighten. She always hated not knowing something. Besides, it's not like she wouldn't pester him into giving her all the details as soon as he returned to Gryffindor Tower. "Hermione might be helpful in figuring out what went wrong with the spell."

"It is as you say, Mr. Potter. Before we wake our young guest up, would you please explain what happened?" Dumbledore laid a hand on Madame Pomfrey's shoulder, stopping her motion. Madame Pomfrey subsided, but still seemed irritated. Harry glanced over at Snape, and saw the man looking impassive as ever. That was something of a surprise, given the way he hated insubordination.

"We were doing the Ancestor Charm in class, and I was paired with Seamus. He cast it first on me." Harry sat down on the bed next to the boy, and frowned. "He did cast it properly," Harry continued after a moment.

Snape snorted. "And I'm sure we all trust your instinct on that, Potter." Harry shot him a glare. The man simply raised an eyebrow in response.

"Anyway, Seamus cast it properly, but I suddenly felt this enormous pressure all around me, and the next thing I know, he's falling on my head. Literally."

The group as a whole turned to look at the guest. "Well, Potter, do you ever cease to cause chaos?" Snape asked ruefully.

"I didn't have a thing to do with this." Harry snapped back. He reached out to touch the boy's forehead lightly.

"Except exist." Harry rolled his eyes and decided not to respond to that. Seemed the safest route. He was already in enough trouble with the Head of Slytherin as it was.

"Now, now, that's enough from the both of you," Dumbledore broke in.

Harry looked at the boy again. That hair. The Charm. "Oh, bugger."

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your language, Mr. Potter," Snape said with glee.

"I think, somehow," Harry began tentatively, ignoring Snape, "he's one of my ancestors." He looked at Dumbledore for confirmation. The older man's expression was blank, but Harry thought he detected a calculating glint to his eyes and the tilt of his head. That same glint that usually spelled trouble for someone. Harry bit his lip.

The silence that greeted Harry's statement was profound. "Bugger indeed," Snape finally muttered. Harry smiled.

"Now that we have that cleared up," Madame Pomfrey broke in, "why don't we just wake the young man up?"

"Quite a good idea," Dumbledore said.

"Headmaster?"

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"If Harry's right, he's going to be disorientated and confused. It might be best if we remove his wand and step back." She paused before continuing. "He might not understand us."

"She's right, Albus." Pomfrey said quietly.

"Is there a language spell?" Harry asked.

"What do you mean, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well, his version of English isn't going to be ours. And we don't know if he speaks any other sort of languages. Not to mention the changes they might have gone through. Couldn't we just cast a translation spell on him? So that we understand him, and he understands us?"

Pomfrey scowled at Harry. "Mr. Potter, you have obviously been spending time in the Restricted Section."

"Of course he has, Madame Pomfrey. I gave him permission to." Dumbledore broke in.

Harry replied shot a look at Snape. Most of the time he had spent in the library had been doing research for the Potions master. During one of their sessions, Harry had ventured to ask about the Killing Curse. "If Voldemort has my protections, sir, won't that mean that the Killing Curse won't work on him anymore?" Snape had paused in stirring the Pepper-Up potion he was working on. His answer had been something Harry had never expected to hear come out of Severus Snape's mouth. "I don't know, Potter. Why don't you try and find an alternate method?" So, Harry had gone to Dumbledore and asked for unlimited access to the Restricted Section to research. He needed not only an alternate to Avada Kedavra, but also something that would kill Voldemort for good. Nothing he could survive through the same way he had after Harry's protections had ousted him from his body.

"There is, Mr. Potter," Snape answered. "The spells are usually considered Dark Arts, as they exert a certain amount of mind control on the recipient of the spell."

Harry could see Hermione bursting to ask a question. He resisted the urge to smile. It was nice the way some things simply didn't change. "You are familiar with the spell, Severus?" Snape nodded in response to Dumbledore's question.

Snape scowled, and looked at Harry. "I'll need a focus." It took a minute for Harry to puzzle out what Snape was asking. Snape would need somewhere to take the language knowledge from, a focus for the spell to latch on to while the caster transferred the knowledge. Harry, as a probable blood relation, was the best sort of focus for any Dark Arts spell. He sighed and nodded. Snape pointed his wand at the space between Harry and the boy and cast the spell. For a moment it felt like a giant hand was shifting through his head; it reminded him a bit of the Sorting Hat. Then the sensation was gone. "It's done."

Dumbledore nodded toward Madame Pomfrey. "Now?" the nurse asked. Dumbledore simply nodded again. Harry quickly reached over the boy's chest, and pried the wand out of his fingers before stepping back. "Ennervate."

The boy's body jumped, and Harry watched his eyes flip open. Taking in the surroundings, the boy's wand hand immediately jumped up. Harry smiled a bit wryly at the instinctive reaction. He held up the boy's wand; it seemed like it was made of holly. "Sorry."

The boy's eyes immediately snapped to his wand, and by extension, Harry. "Give it back." Harry blinked. The words were perfectly understandable, and the boy's cadence even sounded like Harry. He looked over at Snape, wondering if it was an effect of the spell. Snape ignored him.

"I'm sorry, my boy," Dumbledore broke in. He stepped to the other side of the bed, across from Harry. "We can't give your wand back yet."

"Who are you?" The boy seemed surprisingly calm. Harry wondered if the Potter "good luck" was genetic. Routinely experiencing strange things would account for his aplomb.

"I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

The boy stared at Dumbledore as if he was insane. "Who are you?" Hermione asked.

"I am a pupil of Lord Godric, Salazar Slytherin."

Dead silence.

"Headmaster," Harry said quietly. "How is that possible?" He looked over at the old man. For once, he seemed as flummoxed as Harry was.

"Are the rest of you going to introduce yourselves?" Slytherin, if indeed that was who the boy was, asked. He seemed annoyed. Harry could understand that.

"I apologize, my boy," Dumbledore began. "This is Madame Pomfrey, she runs our Infirmary. Next is Severus Snape, our Potions master. And finally, we have two of our students, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."

Slytherin looked at each in turn, but studied Harry longest. "Potter? Lord Godric's daughter is married to a Mudblood named Potter." Harry blinked. That was certainly an unexpected revelation. He filed it away for further thought. Later. Much, much later. When Salazar Slytherin wasn't sitting in front of him. "How did I get here?"

Dumbledore gestured to Harry. "Er." He bit his lip. "We were practicing Charms and all of a sudden you fell on my head."

The boy snorted and muttered to himself. Harry could just barely make out a "Lord Godric's going to kill me," which raised his suspicions.

"And what were you doing?"

To his surprise, Slytherin flushed. "I don't see that I have to tell you anything," he ground out between his teeth. Harry snorted and vaguely wished he could get away with that excuse during the Headmaster's "chats."

Dumbledore reached into his robes and pulled out a piece of chocolate. Harry raised his eyebrows and looked again over at Snape, who nodded. Veritaserum-laced chocolate, just enough of the Potion in the candy to coax the truth out of anyone, but not enough to bring about any of the side effects Harry remembered Crouch having in his fourth year. Harry had been intimately familiar with that candy in his fifth year, until he'd finally figured out exactly how Dumbledore was getting him to say all the things he didn't want to. It was one of Dumbledore's favorite ploys. "Would you like some chocolate? I imagine the trip was a bit rough?"

Slytherin eyed the piece of chocolate suspiciously. "You eat it," Hermione told him firmly. Everyone in the room looked at her in surprise. "Chocolate didn't come to Europe until Cortez brought it 1528."

"What do you mean 'until 1528'?" Slytherin asked, taking the piece of chocolate gingerly.

"Oh, bother," Hermione sighed. "They used the Julian Calendar, not the Gregorian one, didn't they?"

Harry shook his head at his friend. "Hermione, you scare me." She frowned at him.

"This is... good!" Slytherin sounded surprised. Harry looked back over, he was eating the chocolate. "What is it?"

"It's chocolate," Dumbledore said. "A sweet."

Slytherin laughed. "Lord Godric would love this."

Harry bit his lip. Well. That certainly was the confirmation that they needed. "Let's start over," Dumbledore suggested. "What was your name again?"

Slytherin scowled at him. "I told you. I'm one of Lord Godric's students. I am Salazar Slytherin. Now tell me where I am!"

"You're at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry," Dumbledore answered.

Slytherin scoffed. "There's no such thing. Lord Godric would have told me."

Dumbledore sighed. "Before I explain that, would you clarify something for me?" He looked at Harry quickly before his eyes settled back to Slytherin. "What were you doing before you woke up here?"

Slytherin scowled. "Lord Godric had told me not to do it, but I don't understand why not. So I wanted to see if I could create some sort of time Charm." He nibbled a bit more on the chocolate. Harry tried to follow the train of logic and figure out exactly what had happened. No doubt Hermione already knows, he thought sourly. "Now explain this Hogwarts you were talking about."

"Before I can explain that," Dumbledore said calmly, "I must tell you that the year is 1997. Approximately a thousand years after you were born."

Slytherin's jaw dropped, and the chocolate slipped out of his hand. Harry looked over at Snape, feeling somewhat smug to see the esteemed and revered Founder of Snape's House with his mouth gaping open. Snape looked blank, spoiling a bit of Harry's fun. "Impossible."

"Unfortunately, my boy, it isn't."

"So I've time traveled." Dumbledore nodded. "To the future." Dumbledore nodded again. Slytherin sighed. "What sort of spell did you cast on me?"

Harry blinked. He hadn't expected that. "We cast a general language spell, so that you could understand us and we you."

"How do I get back?"

Dumbledore sighed. "We will endeavor to get you back where you belong, my boy. History tells us you do make it back."

Slytherin bit his lip. It reminded Harry a bit of himself. "Who suggested the language spell?" He sounded curious. Harry wondered if he was suspicious. It didn't seem that way.

"I did," Harry answered.

"Oh." Slytherin nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Harry said slowly.

"It's helpful that we can actually talk to each other. I don't think we have that Charm in my time yet." Harry shifted a bit, nervously. He wasn't sure if anyone wanted to explain to Slytherin exactly what the components of the spell they had used were. He heard Hermione shuffle a bit behind him and smiled.

"What sort of Charms do you have?" She burst out. Snape scowled at her.

Slytherin snickered a bit. "I'll make you a deal," he offered. "You tell me about this time, and I'll tell you about mine."

Hermione nodded eagerly. "Before," Dumbledore broke in, "we start on that exchange of information," his eyes were twinkling. Harry hated that expression. "First we need to find out exactly how you got here. What exactly were you trying to do with time?"

Harry noticed Madame Pomfrey leave the room out of the corner of his eye. Presumably she had better things to do now that her patient was conscious and seemingly well. Slytherin clasped his hands together, looking nervous. It was decidedly odd to see that face from the Chamber of Secrets. Alive. And very young. "I wanted to try and make myself faster."

"Explain." Snape spoke for the first time since Slytherin woke up. Harry shivered a bit at the command.

"Well, I found a Charm to make myself stronger. For chores and things. It's not very complicated. So I wondered if there was a way to make myself faster. And if I could do that, slow down my enemies." He frowned. "Experiment or not, it shouldn't have sent me a thousand years into the future. That just doesn't make any sense."

"Why doesn't it make any sense?" Hermione asked, her brow was furled.

"It couldn't have opened that sort of rift. I wasn't attempting to connect to anything but myself. So, it shouldn't have connected to anything but me, presumably."

"Only connected to yourself or was there some sort of stipulation?" That was Snape. At least he sounded like he had an idea. Harry was still confused.

"It was activated with my blood. So, it was connected directly to my blood and magical aura." Slytherin's frown deepened. "I suppose it could have found a blood descendant. But the chances of not only having a blood but also a magical match are nearly impossible."

Harry felt ill. He really hoped he wasn't hearing things correctly. Snape smirked at him, seeming to notice his discomfort. "Sir," Hermione said quietly, turning to Dumbledore, "I remember reading about a spell that allows someone to see the magic of another person. I know it was restricted by the Ministry..." She trailed off.

Dumbledore nodded. "I know what you're referring to, Miss Granger, but I don't think the spell would be advisable at this time."

"Why not?" Slytherin asked. "Why was it restricted? And what is this 'Ministry'? If it would be helpful in figuring out how I got here, we should use it." Harry snorted. Any means to an end: how Slytherin.

He paused. Oh. Right. At least he hadn't said that aloud. Snape would have never let him live it down.

"I agree with Miss Granger. The Ministry restricted the spell merely so that nothing of a false magical transference could be detected. They were attempting to convince the public it wasn't something of a monarchy. That has no effect on us and it is the best spell to be used in these circumstances. I will do it if you're not willing." Harry didn't quite follow the reasoning for the restriction. But it came as no surprise that Snape agreed.

"Who is this 'Ministry'? It's not a family I'm familiar with."

Dumbledore sighed. "Who governed the Wizarding World in your time?"

"Lord Godric, of course."

Dumbledore nodded, but Harry noted Snape's eyebrows twitch slightly. He was surprised. "Over the years, the ruling families were soon replaced by a group of men who were elected to governing posts slightly before the English monarchy was removed. The Ministry, the new governing body, restricted the spell so that no one would use it, and claim that the people in those posts were the same as the family rulers."

Slytherin nodded at Dumbledore's explanation. "I still don't see how that has any connection with us. If it will help us find out why I'm here, do it."

Harry watched Dumbledore closely. The old man was hiding something. Or trying to. He wouldn't be stalling like this if he weren't. Harry suspected that what they might find out in the next few minutes, Dumbledore already knew. The Headmaster nodded slowly. "I will cast the spell." He looked at Harry. "You two will need to be touching for it to work." Harry frowned. He really didn't like where this was going, but reached out to touch Slytherin's shoulder. "No, Harry, you need to be touching skin." Slytherin sighed and grabbed Harry's hand in his own. "Videre."

There was a slightly paused before both Harry and Slytherin started glowing. Around their bodies was an identical black glow. There were specks of gold around their arms, and the gold almost totally submersed the black around their heads.

Harry studied it closely before the glow faded. The aura between the two of them was identical; there were no differences. "Oh bugger."

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your language, Mr. Potter," Snape said. Otherwise the room was silent.

Slytherin was staring at him. Harry tightened his jaw and looked back. "So."

Slytherin laughed. "It's a lucky man who meets his Heir in his lifetime." Harry felt his jaw tighten even further. He'd have no teeth if he kept this up.

"But Headmaster," Hermione sounded puzzled. "I thought Harry was Gryffindor's Heir!"

"And what about Voldemort?" Snape asked quietly.

Dumbledore nodded. "Those are both good questions, and unfortunately, I have no answers to them." Harry watched the old man closely, and saw his hands twitch slightly as he talked. From the expression on Slytherin's face, he had noticed the same thing. "Well, my boy, we'll have to get you settled in. It may take some time to untangle what exactly brought you here. Do you wish to conceal who you are?"

"Headmaster," Snape said quietly, "that is not a very good idea."

"It's the boy's choice, Severus."

"I am not a boy. And I won't take anyone else's name," Slytherin broke in. He seemed annoyed at being talked about as if he wasn't there. Harry knew the feeling.

"You do realize the complications that announcing your presence would lead to?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry snorted. "How could he? He hasn't a clue who he is in relation to what Hogwarts is."

Snape glared over at him and opened his mouth, presumably to take more points but Dumbledore got there first. Dumbledore looked at Harry over his glasses. "I was, Mr. Potter, referring to the transition from private student and the adjustment to the Hogwarts curriculum."

"Who am I to Hogwarts?" Slytherin asked.

"Severus," Dumbledore said quietly, turning to the Potions master, "you are most likely the one able to answer this question."

Snape's glare intensified. "Over a thousand years ago, Hogwarts was founded by four people. They set up four Houses, based on qualities and characteristics they prized in pupils, for the students to live in. Those four people were Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, and you. Salazar Slytherin."

Slytherin nodded slowly. He studied Snape a bit, frowning slightly. "You're in my House, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Slytherin turned back to Harry and studied his robes, taking in the Gryffindor crest. "You're in Lord Godric's." Harry nodded. He looked at Hermione. "As are you." He turned to look at Dumbledore. "I will continue to go under my own name."

"We'll arrange for a tutor before you can join our classes, Mr. Slytherin." Dumbledore looked at Hermione. Harry thought she was ready to jump for joy. "Miss Granger, would you consent to tutor Mr. Slytherin in Charms, Transfiguration, and Po -"

"Headmaster," Snape interrupted. Harry's eyebrows rose. That was the most disrespectful thing he'd ever seen Snape do around Dumbledore. "I will be responsible for Mr. Slytherin's tutoring in Potions."

"Fine, Severus." Dumbledore beamed at Snape. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Harry, would you help Mr. Slytherin in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

Harry looked over at Hermione's frown. "I think Hermione would be better at it, Headmaster." It was true, in a way. Harry's grades were lower in the subject than Hermione's, but that was simply because he preferred doing over reading about doing. Which led to rather mediocre papers.

"You wish me to study with them?" Slytherin sounded surprised. "She must be my age, and he's barely grown."

"Hey!" Harry said, annoyed. He was sensitive about his height. Snape smirked at him.

Dumbledore hid a smile in his beard. Harry shifted his glare from Snape to the Headmaster. "Is your only objection their age?"

Slytherin nodded. "It's obvious they are both still students." He reminded Harry a bit of Malfoy. "Why should I have to learn from inferior 'teachers'?"

"Because they are competent and willing, Mr. Slytherin. Should you wish to join the current classes, learning enough to standardize your skills with what we teach today is my condition to this."

"You forgot to mention that they most likely report directly to you," Slytherin put in sourly. Harry snorted. Dumbledore transferred his gaze to Harry himself and the Headmaster's blue eyes were hard. Obviously the other man had started to notice Harry's growing dissatisfaction with Dumbledore's methods. "And what if I choose not to attend your classes?"

"Then I would have no choice but to confine you."

"Once again," Slytherin's voice was blandly accusing, "a half-truth. I'll attend the classes. I won't be taught by children."

Harry wanted to say 'hey!' again but decided against it with Snape in the room. He could feel Hermione thinking it too. They shared a glance. "If you insist, then." Harry raised his eyebrows slightly and noted that even the usually expressionless Snape seemed a bit shocked. Dumbledore had given in to his demands.

"The Slytherin dorms have space to lodge him for the time being, Headmaster," Snape's tone was surprisingly neutral given the subject matter. He sounded almost... pleasant. Harry blinked.

Slytherin considered this for a moment. "Fitting." He studied Dumbledore before looking at Hermione. "I will take your 'suggestion.' Have my Heir," he looked at Harry, "Harry, was it?" He nodded in response. "Have Harry transferred to be with me during the time I am here. One suite, separate bedrooms."

Dumbledore nodded. "Done."

"But -!" Three voices protested at once.

Dumbledore held up his hand, stopping the protests from Harry, Hermione, and Snape. He pointed at Harry's robe and the crest changed from Gryffindor to Slytherin. He sighed. Slytherin himself seemed pleased. "We will do the utmost to make our visitor's stay as comfortable as possible. Severus, if you would please show them to the dormitories, I will arrange for a suite as he asks." Snape gave Dumbledore a suspicious look but nodded.

Harry turned to Hermione. "I guess I'll see you later. Will you explain to Ron?"

She nodded. "I'll tell him."

"Thanks."

"Come on, Potter, we haven't got all day," Snape said. Harry sighed again and waited for Slytherin to stand. He was about three inches taller than Harry, making them both the shortest in the year. He's got nothing to talk about, Harry thought. Barely grown my foot.

"After you," Slytherin said graciously. Harry rolled his eyes and followed Snape out of the Infirmary.

"Potter, the minute you even think of using that Invisibility Cloak in my dorms, I'll feed you to one of Hagrid's pets in the Forbidden Forest," Snape threatened.

"Yes, sir." Harry smirked at the thought. As if Hagrid would let him do it.

"An Invisibility Cloak? Made of what?" Slytherin asked.

"Er...I'm not sure."

"They're woven from the hair of a Demiguise, Potter. Which you would know if you actually bothered to read a book on occasion."

"Oh." Git. Slimy git who thinks he knows everything.

After that, the boys followed Snape in silence to the Slytherin Common Room. Harry noted that it hadn't changed much since his second year. Slytherin seemed unfazed. Snape led them through the Common Room to a side hall filled with doors. "These are the Prefect's rooms." Snape glared at Harry as he said it, Harry glared back. "You will take care of them. I'll be watching you, Potter." Snape stopped in front of a door. The portrait was of a young woman in Slytherin robes. She was blond and looked a bit like Malfoy.

"Password?" The woman asked.

"Baklava," Snape spit out. Harry raised his eyebrows at the password, but decided that not commenting would most likely be better for his health. Besides, it sounded like something the Headmaster would come up with.

Harry stepped inside the room, and was vaguely surprised by how similar to Hermione's it was. A sitting room with three doors, most likely a small bathroom and two bedrooms. The furniture was leather and looked very comfortable. A fire had already been started. Harry wondered if Dumbledore had a little word with the castle to make things cozy for them. He turned to Slytherin and pointed at the closed doors. "Right or left?"

Slytherin smirked. "Right." He walked to the door and threw it open. The bedroom was much as Harry expected it to be. Except green and silver.

"Sir?" Harry turned to Snape, who was still lurking. "What are we going to do about clothing and such for him?"

Snape sneered. "I would have thought you would feel honored to share your," Snape gave a disgustedly pointed look at Harry's clothing, "garments with your illustrious ancestor."

"And here I thought the Heads of House were responsible if a student's belongings were lost or destroyed. I must have been mistaken," Harry shot back.

There was a faint flick of surprise on Snape's otherwise bland expression. "I see Miss Granger's love for Hogwarts, A History has rubbed off on you. Color me surprised." He shot a quick glance at the right bedroom. "Arrangements will be made." With that, Snape swooped out of the room in an impressive swirl of robes, slamming the portrait closed behind him.

Harry sighed and wondered if he'd ever get along with Snape.

"Is the old bat gone yet?" Slytherin stuck his head out of his bedroom.

"Yes," Harry said shortly. "I'll be back in a bit. I should get my things from Gryffindor Tower."

Slytherin's eyebrows rose. "Wait, I'll come with you. I'd like to see more of this Castle that I Founded."

Harry shrugged. "All right. I wouldn't suggest you introduce yourself however. At least, I wouldn't use your surname just yet."

"And why not?" Slytherin sounded offended.

"Because they're likely to boo you out of the tower, Founder or not." Harry sighed. "Not that I'm going to get off lightly when they see this anyway." He made a vague gesture towards the Slytherin crest now on his robes.

Slytherin blinked. "But why would they do that?"

"Because Gryffindor and Slyther -" Harry stopped. He waited for Slytherin to join him and started walking to the Tower. "Well. I guess you wouldn't know, would you?"

"Know what?" Slytherin sounded half curious and half annoyed.

"There's been a rivalry between Slytherins and Gryffindors as long as anyone can remember. I think it goes all the way back to the Founders, really."

Slytherin seemed shocked. "But why?"

Harry bit his lip. "I don't know if I should tell you." He shook his head. "House rivalries aside, you probably don't want that sort of attention. Imagine the staring." Harry rubbed his scar lightly as he thought about it.

Slytherin was silent a bit. "Why don't you want to tell me?"

"Well," Harry said, trying to figure out how to phrase it. "You really shouldn't muck around with time. There's so many consequences of it. What happens if I told you, and then when you got back, it changed history?"

"And if I promised not to act on it?"

Harry laughed. "It's not that easy." He turned the corner that would put them outside of Gryffindor Tower. "Here we are. Let's just get in and out, all right?" Harry strode up to the Fat Lady and quietly whispered the password so Slytherin couldn't hear it. She swung open.

Thankfully the Gryffindor Common Room was deserted. "Must be time for dinner," Harry muttered. "Wait here, I'll be right back." Harry turned and ran up to the seventh year dorm. He threw everything he could into his trunk and shrunk it so that he could carry it back to the dungeons.

He jogged down the stairs and saw that Slytherin was studying a tapestry intently.

"Oh, bollocks." It was the tapestry that showed the fight between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Slytherin turned around. "Is this what you didn't want to tell me?" Harry nodded sheepishly. Slytherin continued to glare at the tapestry. "Are there other versions of this?" Harry looked at the tapestry; it was depicting a scene of - now that Harry had seen the original - a very stylized Slytherin, marked in silver and green, being struck down by Godric Gryffindor in red and gold while Gryffindor protected a group of small children. He vaguely wondered, given the artistic license on Slytherin himself, how the other boy had managed to figure that much out.

"I don't know," Harry replied honestly. "Er. Well, I don't reckon we can pretend you didn't see that?"

Slytherin ignored that. "Lord Godric and I had a fight then? Years off from now, my now that is, not yours obviously."

Harry nodded and gestured to the tapestry. "You lost, and left the school after the fight."

Slytherin frowned at Harry. "That doesn't make any sense. I wouldn't do that."

"Do what? Fight with Gryffindor? Found a school? Leave the school?" Harry snorted. "Sorry to be the one to break it to you, but its a thousand years in the future. It's already happened."

Slytherin returned his gaze to the picture in front of him. "If I lost, I wouldn't have left. If Lord Godric and I ever actually dueled, and I lost... Well. I'd be dead. Lord Godric doesn't allow anyone to challenge him. He'd be an idiot to leave them alive." Harry simply stared at the other boy. When Slytherin continued speaking, unfazed, he realized that the disbelief must have been apparent in his expression. I thought I was getting better at that, Harry thought. "As well, I'd be an idiot to risk losing like that. He has years of training on me, and isn't above poisoning his blades. Even if I do have more natural talent for charms and tribal arts, I wouldn't take a risk like that. Not when I'm going to outlive Godric by years anyway."

Harry chewed his lip before reaching out to lightly touch Slytherin's arm. "C'mon, we better head back to our room. I want to unpack." The touch seemed to shake Slytherin out of his reverie more than anything else. "And then I can give you the grand tour before dinner, I suppose."

"Hmm. Yes. I would appreciate that," Slytherin nodded suddenly and Harry had the feeling that the motion had nothing to do with getting a tour but decided not to ask. He left the Gryffindor common room with a frown, scrunching his nose at the badge now displayed on his robes, and Slytherin followed him quietly.

They walked the corridors back down to the Slytherin dungeons quietly. Harry only half paid attention to his surroundings as he tried to take in what he'd just discovered about two of the most revered wizards of all time. "Harry, I think you're going the wrong way." Slytherin's voice sounded amused. He looked up at the other boy and indeed there was a small smile on his face.

Harry checked out the surroundings and realized that Slytherin was right. "Shit," he muttered. The hall was dimly lit, the armor was rusting, and Harry thought he detected cobwebs in a few corners. Obviously Filch hasn't been down here in the last century, he thought sourly. Slytherin's smile grew wider. "It's not like I spend more time than I absolutely have to down here," he growled at the other boy. "I don't suppose you know the way back, then?"

Slytherin shrugged. "It's your castle."

"Bollocks," Harry snapped. "You built the bloody thing."

Slytherin laughed. "In that case, perhaps I should lead the way?"

Harry glared. "Be my guest." Slytherin continued to laugh before reaching out to ruffle Harry's hair. Harry shoved his hand away.

"You remind me a lot of my brother," Slytherin commented. The amusement was still in his voice. He started walking back the way they had came.

"You have a brother?"

Slytherin nodded. "I have three brothers actually, all younger." He laughed. "But it's Marcello you remind me of."

"I do? Why?"

Slytherin abruptly took a right turn. Harry noted that there were more torches in this section and surmised that perhaps Slytherin did know where he was going. He envied the other boy his sense of direction. "You look like him."

Harry rolled his eyes. "That's all?"

"Here we are," Slytherin pointed to the entrance to Harry's new Common Room. "And yes, that's all."

"Right." Harry didn't believe that for a second. He sighed as Slytherin spoke the password.

The pair entered the Common Room. Unlike earlier, it wasn't empty.

"Potter!" Draco Malfoy howled and Harry instinctively reached for his wand. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here," Harry mumbled back. He saw Slytherin eying the two of them carefully.

Malfoy blinked and looked at Slytherin. "Did he just say what I think he said?"

Slytherin smiled. "What do you think he said?"

"That he's a Slytherin now." Draco seemed to be peering owlishly at Harry's new House crest.

"Actually," Slytherin strode up to the other boy, "Harry's always been a Slytherin." He gestured to Harry and stalked towards their room.

Harry shook his head and grinned at Malfoy's dumbstruck expression before hurrying down the hall. "Be seeing you," he tossed over his shoulder. Harry had bigger things to worry about. Like Slytherin's statement.

"Hey, wait!" Harry froze at Malfoy's voice, wincing.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked tiredly, turning around.

"The Golden Boy comes to Slytherin. My, what a momentous occasion." Malfoy was smirking. Harry simply assumed that Malfoy was planning something malicious.

"Yes, Malfoy, I'm in Slytherin for the time being. Sod off."

Malfoy's smirk grew wider. "And what brought on this change?"

Harry sighed. "Look, Malfoy, if you want to pose, fine. If you want to duel, fine. Out with it, I'm tired."

Malfoy reached out to touch Harry's badge. "Oh no, it'd look bad for the House for us to be fighting in public. Don't worry, Potty, you've nothing to worry about." The purr in his tone told Harry that he had everything to worry about. His expression turned contemplative. "Wonder what your little Mudblood lackey will say about this?" He snickered. "Hrm, 'traitor' comes to mind."

Harry smacked Malfoy's hand off of him. "Actually, Hermione was perfectly fine with it. She knows that a House or name doesn't make a person. Now leave me alone, Malfoy." He turned, but Malfoy grabbed his arm.

"What happened? Did your Weasel dump you?" The purr was gone from Malfoy's voice and replaced by the usual rage that accompanied the name.

Harry was actually rather worried about Ron's reaction, though not in the way Malfoy was saying, but he wasn't going to give the ferret the satisfaction of seeing that. "No, we're perfectly happy together." He smirked as Malfoy's expression dropped a bit. "Not like that, Malfoy. I, for one, don't fuck my friends over. In any way."

Malfoy flushed. "Fuck you, Potter." His free hand was going for his wand.

"I'm all booked up," Harry smirked back. "Stupefy." Draco froze, stunned by Harry's spell.

"POTTER!" Harry winced and looked down the hallway. Snape looked thunderous. "That sort of behavior may have been acceptable in Gryffindor," he wrenched Malfoy away from Harry, "but I will not tolerate it here. You will be serving detention with me for a week!"

"It's a holiday, sir!" Harry protested.

"Finite Incantatum," Snape released Malfoy, ignoring Harry's protest. "Draco, wait for me in my office." Malfoy managed to glare at Harry and look superior at the same time.

"Of course," he said, straightening his robes, "Professor Snape." With that, he left Harry and Snape alone.

Harry stared up at the taller man. He sighed. "So now I have two weeks with you working on containment charms, and a week of detention?"

Snape snorted. "As if I like it any more than you, Potter." Could have fooled me, sadistic prick, Harry thought. "Yes, I believe you'll come to know the dungeons very well this holiday." Harry ran a hand through his hair. Arguing would only make things worse. "Now where is Mr. Slytherin?"

"In our room." Snape glared, and Harry got out of his way. Snape entered the suite with Harry following him. Slytherin was sitting next to the fire, staring into it. He looked up at their entrance and seemed surprised to see Snape.

Snape reached into his robes and pulled out a slip of paper and a package. Placing the package on the table, he enlarged it. Harry squinted at it; it seemed to be a collection of school robes. "I've brought some clothing for you, as well as your schedule." He thrust the slip of paper into Harry's hand. "I trust," Snape's sneered, "that you will be responsible for making sure you both arrive on time, Mr. Potter."

Harry sneered back. "Of course, sir."

"I have taken the liberty of writing in the times for your Potions tutoring as well. I'm sure Mr. Potter will be quite happy to see that you are well-informed for the rest of your courses." Harry looked at the list and groaned; he'd never taken Arithmancy, how was he supposed to make sure Slytherin was competent at it? He was glad Hermione was on his side in this whole debacle.

As it was quite obvious Snape wasn't.

Not to mention that no one knew where Dumbledore's real loyalties lie. Harry made a mental note to try and figure out why Dumbledore had acquiesced to Slytherin's demands so easily.

"Sir, what about my schedule?"

Snape's sneer grew even more malicious. "It has been altered to fit this one. You will be attending classes together."

Harry rubbed his forehead and vainly wished for a bottle of aspirin. As if my life weren't complicated enough. Slytherin walked over and took the paper from his hand to glance at it. "Why were these courses assigned to me without my permission?"

Snape seemed surprised. "Those are the standard courses in the core curriculum."

Slytherin glared. "You've taken no opportunity to assess my individual talents! How do you expect to train proper wizards if you don't train their talents?" He seemed genuinely angry. Harry and Snape just shared a glance, confused. "You have no idea what I mean, do you?"

"No, not really," Harry said sheepishly.

"You're my Heir," Slytherin exploded. "You have the same skills I do! If you don't train yourself to control them you'll kill someone."

"Parseltongue has attack capabilities?" Snape asked sounding less sure than Harry had ever heard him. Slytherin just stared at both of them like they were idiots.

"Does this have anything to do with..." Harry struggled to remember. "Those 'shaman' abilities you mentioned earlier?"

"Yes." Slytherin leaned forward and tapped Harry's temple, next to his scar. "Haven't you had visions before?"

"Yes, about Voldemort."

Slytherin paused, seeming confused, but continued. "Haven't strange things ever happened to you?"

Snape snorted and Harry glared at him. "You'll have to be a little bit more specific."

"Wandless magic?" Harry nodded. "Spells that are more powerful than normal?" Harry thought of his Patronus and nodded again. "Healing? Necromancy?" Harry stared.

"I could do that?"

Slytherin rolled his eyes. "If I can, you can."

"I never have."

Slytherin turned to stare at Snape. "You will allocate time for us to study and practice. Harry will need it."

"I will speak to the Headmaster about it. If he agrees, I am sure that you both," with this Snape sent a sharp look at Harry that clear spoke his feelings about "Golden Boy" and "special privileges" to which Harry stared back. "Will receive new timetables in the morning."

"Er, sir? What about dinner?"

"I'm quite sure you know the way to kitchens by now, Mr. Potter. Or perhaps you might use your wand and conjure something up." With one last sneer, Snape turned in a swish of robes and stalked out of the room.

"Are you related?" Slytherin asked, gesturing towards the door. Harry shook his head vehemently and the other boy laughed. "Don't like him much do you?"

"It's a long story," Harry sighed. "Are you hungry?"

"Is Voldemort another long story?"

Harry froze. "Um." He bit his lip. "Why don't we get some food?"

"Only if you tell me what's going on."

Harry winced. "Fine. Let's head to the kitchens and we'll talk when we get back."

Slytherin nodded.

A half an hour, a plateful of sandwiches delivered by a joyfully crying Dobby later, Harry and Slytherin were back in their room. Harry set up silencing and proximity charms. "Talk."

Harry took a bite of a sandwich to gain time to compose his thoughts. He chewed, considering. "Do you already have the Basilisk?"

"Basilisk?" Slytherin seemed honestly surprised. "Who would be stupid enough to keep a Basilisk?"

Harry gaped. "Um. You did." He bit his lip. "I, er, killed it when I was twelve."

"At twelve, you killed a thousand year old Basilisk?" Harry nodded and unexpectedly Slytherin laughed. "It seems that your surname indicates that the line has remained unbroken."

"Er?"

Slytherin took a bite of his own and through his food said: "You're a descendant of Godric Gryffindor as well."

"Oh, I knew that already."

"Yet you didn't know I was your ancestor. Why?"

"Well, it has to do with Voldemort." Harry sighed and put down his half-eaten sandwich. He had rather lost his appetite. "Voldemort's real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was born in 1927 to a witch mother. His father was a Muggle and abandoned them both when he found out that she was a witch. She died giving birth to him and he ended up being raised in a Muggle orphanage."

"Her family didn't foster him?" Slytherin sounded surprised. Harry supposed that was the custom.

"I guess not." He shrugged. "I don't know much about them. Maybe they were dead?"

Slytherin muttered something under his breath and Harry just looked at him. "Well, go on."

"Anyway, when he was eleven, Tom came to Hogwarts and learned about his heritage. That he was a wizard." Harry paused and took a sip of the pumpkin juice Dobby had provided. "That he was the Heir of Salazar Slytherin."

"What?"

Again Harry shrugged. "I don't know where or how he found out. I'm not sure anyone actually knows and at this point, I think it would be rather counter-productive to ask." He sighed inwardly as the sentence came out sharper than he intended. I really have been spending too much time with Snape. "Anyway, when he was in his fifth year here at Hogwarts, he opened the Chamber of Secrets you built, and killed a girl with the Basilisk without anyone but Dumbledore noticing. So he left Hogwarts and went out on some quest for power. He changed his name to Voldemort, the quest had changed his appearance so that no one could connect the two. In the 1970s, he came back to England and started gathering followers. They wanted to kill Mudbloods and Muggles and reinstate the purebloods to power. His followers were called Death Eaters." Harry snorted. "Most of the Wizarding World was afraid of him, but Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix," at that Slytherin's eyebrows rose nearly into his hairline, "were fighting him. In 1980, I was born to James Potter, a Gryffindor Heir and Lily Evans, a Muggle-born witch. Voldemort targeted them and they went into hiding under a Secret-Keeper." Harry paused to see if Slytherin knew the charm.

"I know the spell. Why were your parents targeted?"

"Dumbledore told me it was because of a prophecy and me being the Heir of Gryffindor. Anyway, in 1981, on Halloween, their Secret-Keeper betrayed them and Voldemort found us at Godric's Hallow." He swallowed. "He killed my parents and turned the Killing Curse on me."

Slytherin nodded. "And the fact that you are still living means that you are most certainly my Heir not Lord Godric's. I take it that your scar is the remains of the curse."

Shocked, Harry nodded. "How?" The single word seemed an insignificant start on all the questions he had.

"Marvolo is my youngest brother; he was born last winter," Slytherin answered simply. "This Voldemort of yours is most likely a descendant of the Slytherin line - but through the cadet branch."

"And me?"

Slytherin shrugged. "For a wizard, we are both very young. Marriage doesn't generally occur for us until we are fully trained, somewhere in our second or third decade, unless there is great need."

Harry sighed. "It's a lot to take in. I don't think I'd be able to believe it if I hadn't seen our auras for myself." He allowed himself to sink further into the sofa and closed his eyes. He sighed again. "Can I ask you something?" Slytherin motioned him on. "Why don't you like Muggle-born?"

Slytherin raised his eyebrows. "Why would you want to know that?" He shook his head. "Never mind. I haven't a problem with them, really. In my time, they're quite rare." He paused, considering. "Lord Godric hates them, though, his wife was killed by one."

Once again, Harry found himself speechless. "All right, let me see if I've got this all correct." He held up his hand and counted each new revelation off. "I'm both yours and Gryffindor's Heir, you're Godric Gryffindor's student, I have new abilities that need to be trained which apparently haven't been even heard of in centuries, you don't have a problem with Muggle-born, and Gryffindor apparently fights dirty."

Slytherin nodded. "That sounds about right, yes."

Harry buried his face in his hands. "What am I going to tell Sirius?"

"Who is Sirius?"

Harry looked up. "He's my godfather," he said, before pausing. "Er, that's sort of a long story too."

Slytherin laughed. "You seem to accumulate them."

"Well, Sirius is wanted for murder by the Ministry." Harry sighed. "He didn't do it, of course."

"You've got a very interesting history, Harry Potter." Slytherin grinned at him. "Tell me more." Harry groaned. "Complaining won't get you out of it. So tell."

"It's mostly problems..."

Slytherin waved that objection away. "Then we'll come up with solutions."

"Er." Harry paused. He rather felt as if he'd given too much up already. And given the way Slytherin was grinning at him...

"It's going to be a long term."