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Why Salazar Left	By : Eskimita Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Salazar Views: 25176 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 14
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its world and I am making no money off of this story.

Chapter List
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As Salazar stirred his potion clockwise the final three times, he thought about the stranger who had appeared in the Creaothceann field earlier that day. Though the boy had spoken to him in the snake language only spoken by his family, he showed no physical signs of being related to any of them. The Slytherin genes were strong, showcasing their Hispanic heritage. This stranger, this Harry Potter, showed none of those genes. In fact, he’d never seen anyone who looked like this boy before.

The boy had stated that he was a student at Hogwarts in the future, but Rowena, Godric, Helga, and Salazar had already decided that students would not be admitted until they were eleven. This child could not be older than ten. He was small, smaller than even Helga, who was not known for being a tall woman. Salazar was sure that the boy was probably smaller than some of the house elves that served in the castle, but he would have to have the boy stand next to them to check. The boy’s features were elven, almost feminine. The luminous green eyes, so like Godric’s in the boy’s face captivated Salazar.

He set aside his wand and picked up a vial, canting his potion. He turned to his shelves, placing it in the proper place and checking it off the list of healing potions needed before their first school year started in a month.

Carefully, Salazar set about to cleaning up his space, taking time to ensure that it would remain spotless no matter what matter of vermin managed to sneak into the castle. Once that was done, he swept his robes behind him and went to visit their new visitor.

“You had one task. Turn the Cup into a portkey that would take the boy to the graveyard. One task. But you failed, didn’t you, Alastor? How could you fail?”

Alastor Moody stared impassively at the form of Albus Dumbledore, his magic eye fixed on the wand in the old man’s hand. He didn’t answer, preferring to wait until he was sure that Dumbledore had finished his rant.

“How in Merlin’s name did the boy end up going back to the time of the Founders? It shouldn’t be possible. You did something wrong, Alastor!”

The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black chimed in, voicing his very unwelcome opinion. “Albus, you are a fool. You knew when he was born that the child would be powerful. Just because you guaranteed that he would suffer during his childhood does not mean that you broke him. If anything, I would say that his childhood has made the young Potter a much stronger and more determined wizard. I’d say that I am quite proud of him, and I look forward to the day he defeats you.”

Albus shot a spell at the portrait, grimacing when it bounced off. Nothing was going his way anymore. And the blame could all fall on Harry Potter. Nothing had gone according to Albus’s plan since the boy had set foot in Hogwarts.

When Tom had cursed the boy as his equal, leaving part of his soul embedded in the boy, Albus had been ecstatic, believing it to mean that the boy would be cursed with as much darkness as Tom. He had gone further to guarantee it, sending Sirius Black to Azkaban without a trial and condemning the boy to life in an abusive Muggle home.

The boy was supposed to be another Tom, one that Albus could mold instead of allowing him to take his own course towards evil. Instead, the boy had to embody everything that Gryffindor stood for, being sorted into the wrong house. Then the boy had to go and perform amazing feats each year, cementing his popularity with his housemates.

When Albus had resurrected the Tournament for the first time in three hundred years, he did so with the beliefs that forcing Potter to compete would awaken the boy’s Slytherin side. Instead, the boy had been helping his competitors, making friends with them and ignoring the vitriol Albus planted in the school.

Nothing he planned out for the boy went the way it should and it was beginning to irritate Albus. He couldn’t understand how someone who had been abused since he was eighteen months old could hold so much love in him, could be so brave. Harry Potter should be afraid of his own shadow, not running off to defeat all obstacles in his way. The boy was far too pure.

And now, he was out of Albus’s reach. How he had managed to travel back in time almost a thousand years, Albus was not sure. Not even the Unspeakables had been able to travel more than ten years in either direction. But of course Harry Potter would be able to. The boy seemed to defy every single law of magic, as if they were laid out for his entertainment and ability to break. It infuriated the older wizard.

“Alastor, the world will mourn him as a fallen hero. The Ministry will claim that this is my fault for allowing an underage wizard to compete in such a deadly competition. Potter has ruined me.”

Alastor nodded, not adding to the conversation. Yes, Potter had ruined the plans that Albus had laid out, but perhaps it was for the best.

Harry woke from his nap to the hissing of his portrait door, informing him of a visitor.

“Allow entry.”

Immediately, the door swung open and revealed the form of Salazar Slytherin.

“Mr. Potter. I do hope I didn’t interrupt your rest. I am here to provide a medical scan to see if you have any pressing injuries. Do you mind?”

Harry shook his head and watched as Salazar pulled out his wand, reciting one of the healing incantations he had heard Madame Pomfrey use many times. He closed his eyes against the violet light and allowed the smooth sounds of Salazar’s voice to dance through his head.

“Mr. Potter, how old are you?”

“Fourteen, sir.”

“Fourteen? You are much smaller than the average fourteen year old.”

“Yes sir. I- food was short for my family for the first eleven years of my life. I did not eat a proper meal until my first Welcoming Feast.”

Salazar could tell the boy was lying, but he wasn’t sure whether or not he should press the issue. As his scan revealed multiple bone fractures that were not properly healed, he decided that yes, the issue did need to be pressed.

“And the broken bones? Am I to assume that your family was similarly injured or are these unique to you?”

He watched as the boy turned a delicious shade of red and sighed.

“My… relatives… disliked me. They believed that magic was abnormal, freakish. My uncle was under the belief that if he beat me often enough, I would no longer perform accidental magic.”

“You did not live with your parents?”

“No. They were killed. I lived with my mother’s Muggle sister and her husband.”

Salazar let a breath out through his teeth. “This is why I’m always telling Godric that witches and wizards should be raised within magical families. Muggles simply do not understand how to handle a young witch or wizard. They only injure their children.” He looked back down at the boy.

“Mr. Potter, how is it that you managed to survive? By my accounts, you should no longer be living, much less capable of proper brain functions.”

Harry snorted. “According to my potions professor, sir, I am not capable of proper brain functions. But I suppose you’re right. I shouldn’t be alive. I guess my magic had different ideas for my life.”

The look of sadness and hopelessness that entered the boy’s eyes touched Salazar’s heart, something he wasn’t even sure functioned properly anymore. He sat at the edge of the settee, his hand coming up to brush the cheek under those emerald jewels.

“Harry, what has happened to you? What has caused such a young boy to have a look of hopelessness as strong as yours?”

“Sir, I’m afraid that that is quite a long story, and one I should probably share with the other Founders as well. Perhaps we can call them together?”

Salazar nodded and stood, pulling his wand out to send a message to the other human inhabitants of the castle. Once his task was finished, he pulled the boy into a sitting position and sat down behind his back, bringing the boy to lounge against him.

For reasons entirely beyond his comprehension, Salazar was drawn to this boy. He couldn’t let him tell this story without a measure of comfort and he would not allow that comfort to come from anyone other than himself. Indeed, if Helga even moved to touch the boy, it was entirely possible that Salazar would snap at her, despite the fact that she was the most peaceful and loving of the four of them.

The door opened and Godric, Rowena, and Helga entered, looking curious.

“Come. Our young visitor has a story to tell us and I shall translate. Everyone have a seat.”

Salazar conjured chairs for the other founders and turned once again to the Elvin beauty in his arms.

“Harry, if you could begin?”
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Why Salazar Left