A Soul Within

Chapter Three


Harry sat back in his first class seat on the plane. It was his first Muggle plane trip. He knew it would be a long flight, but he wanted to experience the ride. This holiday was meant for trying new experiences after all. He took out Salazar’s journal from his carry on bag.

March 5, 990

It seems like forever and a day that Rowena approached me about teaching magic to children over a cup of ale. To build a castle, bring others in to teach. Part of me thought she was not right in the head, or had too much ale to think clearly, but then she brought it up the next day. I had told her that magical children were taught by their elders in their homes, if at all. She agreed, but thought we would teach these children to be great in their day, not to only be thought of as manual labor on their father’s land. I had thought that her father would naysay such things, but he had agreed with her. She always seemed to know things. Had the sight. Tis one of the reasons I write in these pages. She says that my words will be read by many in the future. Why anyone would want to read this drivel is beyond me.

I have just arrived back from a meeting with a lovely blonde woman named Helga Hufflepuff. Helga had been banished from the village where she spent her first ten years of life. One of the villagers had seen her bloom a rose that was once dead. It had spread throughout the village that she was in league with the devil. Her mother and father had packed her meager belongings, and sent her to her mother’s sister across the lake, where it was enchanted to keep the unwanted from approaching. Her mother and father did not survive the villagers’ wrath. It is nine years later, and she has flourished in her aunt’s care. She is the youngest of us lot, but knows her magic.

Another at this meeting was a red-haired man with a full beard. He had been thought to be in league with the devil simply because of his red hair. Foolish I say. He seemed to be a serious man but had a smile that came easily when the idea of teaching children to not be ashamed of what they could do or who they could become. A great duelist they say - we’ll have to see about that.

Rowena seemed happy at the end of our meeting. The founders four, she had said. It was destined to be. Although I am leery of what is to come, how can one fight destiny? I see children dying, or punished for something they have no control over, for something that their families do not understand. Hopefully we can save some of these children from their fates. People fear what they do not understand.

May 990

Godric - such a serious gent. I am sure Roe and I shall make him smile. Perhaps a balding spell . . . that red hair is dreadful.

Harry had seen a portrait of Godric Gryffindor in the dorms, and tried to picture him bald. It put a smile on his own face thinking of it.

April 998

The castle is coming along nicely. It will be grande. I shall enjoy my time here within these walls I think, away from my mother’s constant nattering. And she wonders why I don’t wish to come home. The wretched girl that father has picked for my bride is something that perhaps my brothers would like . . . as a mistress perhaps. Their wives would adjust. They always do. Now her brother, he was someone who I could lie with. The sounds of pleasure he had made the night we spent together would be something I would like to hear from him again . . .

‘Whoa,’ Harry thought to himself, closing the book. Salazar Slytherin liked boys. Didn’t know that he had brothers. Perhaps that is where the Slytherin lineage carried on.

The news of the school has reached many magical ears. Witches and Wizards have come from far and wide to see Rowena’s dream, now ours. Tents have sprung up across the bridge. The famed wandsmith Jonas Ollivander has started building a shop to sell his wares. I have heard of someone teaching the younger ones their reading and writings, in preparation for when the school is complete. There are about 100 children so far that we will accept once we are ready, starting at the age of ten.

Godric has set up some classes, brought in some people to teach them - flying, dueling (which he will teach himself), and fencing.

Helga has brought her many house-elves that she has befriended, along with their families. They are quite loyal to her, as well as to the school. Excitable little creatures. We have set them up in rooms in a wing at the back of the castle, close to the kitchens. It is oftentimes to see Helga stirring and cooking along side of them, making grand dishes that we all enjoy. She has also brought in her aunt who is quite knowledgeable in healing. She will be treating those in the school when needed. We have also talked her into teaching others what she knows.

Rowena has hired some teachers to teach maths and runes. I was quite surprised to see that a goblin had taken up the job of maths. Smart creatures they are. They are establishing themselves to be ruthless in their business of money matters in the wizarding world.

I have agreed to teach the art of potions, so far.

There have also been some others that will be joining us to teach classes in wizarding culture and etiquette; common folklore (history); basic spells and advanced. I have talked an old friend of mine to teach the class on the myths and legends of magical creatures, how to defend themselves in case it is needed. Of course who better to teach than an ancient vampire . . . Godric still covers his neck in Vlad’s presence. Quite humorous really. Vlad only drinks from the willing. We are also hoping to get a young but powerful wizard by the name of Merlin to come to teach here.

Harry wondered why some of these classes were no longer taught. Some would still be beneficial to learn even now, a thousand years later. Harry shrugged, taking a sip of his drink and supposing there was no one around to ask as he pressed back into the journal.

September 1000

Well it is finished. We are fairly certain that this part of our paradise will remain hidden from the mundanes, with an enchantment that all four of us put up around the grounds and village nearby. We will be welcoming the young ones into the school the next day. The teachers have retired to their rooms to prepare themselves for tomorrow’s lessons. I look around as I sit in front of the fire in my own rooms, feeling quite content in my lot in life. The past few years have been busy, and it was nice to just sit back and think on things. Helga had made a very delicious meal for the four of us, celebrating our accomplishment, then of course plenty of wine and ale was passed around.

I will have to remember not to have my familiar close by when I drink. We were all quite tipsy with drink, trying to come up with what should be the welcoming the next day. I had been stroking the head of my dragon absently as we all came up with some amusing sayings, when my fingers had tickled his side. Laughter soon drowned out my bellow of pain after my dragon flamed my foot.

‘Never tickle a sleeping dragon,’ Godric had said. I thought they were all crazy when they had agreed that would be the greeting of the school. What kind of greeting was that? We really shouldn’t have been drinking and making decisions that would affect the school.

December 1001

It has been awhile since I’ve written. Have been kept busy. It is the time for family, and I sit alone in my rooms. Rowena has gone to her fathers, and I suspect her intended to make the final arrangements for their nuptials. I am happy for Rowena. William is a fine man and will make her a fine husband. They will be married in a few short months. Helga is in her rooms with her aunt, and Godric is with his wife of three months back at his manor. I was invited by Ashton, our spell creation teacher, to come share a bottle and bed for the night, but I was not inclined to tonight - although tempting as that may be. What he could do with those lips . . .

I had arrived back this morning from a visit with my mother. I am thankful that I have Hogwarts. I would not wish to spend more time with the shrew. I had almost taken my hand to my mother the night before. What she and the girl have done is unforgivable. As I had written pages before, my mother and her close friend of many years had arranged for me to marry Druscilla and carry on the Slytherin name. I am sure my two brothers had been doing that already. I had refused many times to the summons to come home. Instead father and mother had come here with the wicked witch in tow a month ago. That night is vague in my mind, and the taste of a potion still on my lips the next morning. I am ashamed to admit that I did not notice the potion in the drink that mother had given me. I sit here now thinking of my impending marriage to Druscilla that I am being forced into in a week’s time. She is with child and I am told it is mine. The spell I had used ensured it was mine. I had let my mind into hers and found out her devilry. The potion that was given to me so many weeks ago was a lust potion, a potion that is my downfall to marry a girl that I do not like, let alone love. She will stay with mother, and I will stay here at Hogwarts after the farce of a marriage. Rowena has threatened her head, and I am almost willing to let her have her way. If only Druscilla was like Rowena, not that I would marry Rowena, she is too much like myself for us to marry. It would be like lying with my sister.

I wonder if I will be a good father?

June 1002

Well I am a father. I was not there for the birth of my son, but am told that Druscilla and heir are fine. I will be journeying to my mothers in the morning to see my son.

On a much more humorous note . . . Godric has become quite frustrated as of late. It seems that when he tried to go to his rooms, the staircases move, or his door disappears. Magic is a wonderful thing. I am sure once he finds out Roe and I enchanted the castle’s stairs he will likely have our heads. It is odd though. We had enchanted the staircases only, but not the walls or room. We are finding that there are suddenly doors or rooms where there once was not, and when we touch the walls, there is a warmth. We have come to think that the castle is coming alive. Not alive as a breathing human being, but knows our wants and wishes, and helps us along when we are in need. Can make up its own mind. Sounds quite mad when it is written here.

July 1002

I am back. I am a father. I have held my son in my arms. He steals my breath away. He is so small and trusting. I see the way Druscilla cares for him, and am sure that he will be fine in his early years with her while I am away at Hogwarts. A son will not save a marriage that was doomed from the moment of trickery. It was agreed that my son, Alexander, would come to me once he reaches the age of ten where he will live with me and learn at Hogwarts. Unknownst to my mother and Druscilla, I had placed a spell on them so they could not speak ill of me. My son does not need to hear of the imaginary wrong doings that the shrews may think that I have done. I will make sure to visit often so he does not forget my face.

Several entries later and Harry was still enraptured by the man’s pen. Such an extraordinary life he’d led.

October 1009

Today I bury my heart. My son and heir is now beneath the cold ground, his sweet cherub face forever young. The one that is responsible for my son’s death is gone now, dealt with by my blade. He was a mundane with a magical child of his own. My son and the child were friends. They had been playing, and they had some of their toys flying about, using some of their magic. The father - the mundane . . . saw this and picked up my son, shaking him over and over again. Druscilla had come upon them and hexed the man off my son, but it was too late. Alexander was not breathing. Druscilla tried to revive him, but to no avail. My son was dead. Dead. I have no reason to go home now.

It is not the first time I have heard of fathers or mothers beating or yelling at their children because of their magical abilities. They fear what they do not know. They willingly send their children here, so they don’t have their abnormal ways about them, but these children play with others in their villages, their families talk amongst themselves. It is not wise for these magical children to interact with mundanes. They do now realize what they say sometimes. One slip of magic or saying something of our world would bring havoc to us all. The wizarding world would be at risk. The mundanes fear magic. They know of it, but condemn those that have that ability. The wizarding world should stay hidden, the children of mundanes either stay with magical families or not come to the school at all. For the children here already . . . I have put the idea forth that they have a spell placed on them so they are unable to speak of Hogwarts or the village around us. Rowena and Ashton are working on the creation of this spell.

December 1009

It is still hard for me. Alexander is always on my mind. Rowena has been a steady ear for me, or a companion to sit by the fire deep in our own thoughts. Helga and Godric are sorry to hear of my loss, and offer comfort, but it does not last long. Arguments usually tend to start up, disagreements on who we should or should not take into the school. It is to the point where I wish to be alone most of the time. The castle, as if sensing this, has led me down a hidden staircase deep in the dungeons to a room, numerous pathways leading to other parts of the castle or more rooms. I sit in the middle of the room, letting my mind focus on the magic around me. I felt it comforting me, felt the air around me shift. I opened my eyes moments later to see the room had changed. Grande snakes slithered up the walls until they solidified into stone, leading to a stone statue of a face, that resembled myself at the time. I stroked my fingers through my course beard, thinking of shaving it right then. I had not cared as of late.

December 1009

My secret chambers are quite comforting to me when I wish to be alone, which is quite often. My familiar, Tallis, has brought me a guardian for my chambers, or soon to be one once it is hatched. It is a basilisk egg. Tallis also enjoys the chambers, as the main room is big enough for his size. It has been quite awhile since he was able to be in my room upstairs. He comes and goes through an opening that leads into the forest behind the castle.

Harry was saddened to read the slow decline of Salazar’s mental state. The entries grew more sporadic and were brief. There were not only entries on thoughts but also potions, what worked, what didn’t. Harry was sure that Severus, and Draco would like to get their hands on this book. Some of the entries describing fights with Godric were written quite boldly, the ink thick on the pages, slipping in Parseltongue language every so often the more angry he became.

He continued to read through the journal. The once elegant flow of script became messy, disjointed sentences. Near the end was a potion. Reading over the ingredients, he recognized it to be quite similar to the Draught of Living Death, an ingredient or two different or similar to what it is today. The Ministry considered it dark, so it was strictly outlawed years ago. He could see why it would be outlawed. The potion had been given to many innocents in the earlier centuries, some may be justified for the hardened criminals, but it was very dangerous.

The writing suddenly stopped, a few blank pages before another entry. The script was elegant, the words flowing on the pages.

May 1015

As I read through my friend’s thoughts and fears, I even now miss him, even though it has been a week since he lay down. Sal was like a brother to me, always has been, always will be. I knew some of the events that came to pass would happen, would make him smile, would make him saddened. Since Alexander’s death, he very rarely smiled. He was still there to teach the children, and had a smile for each and every one of them, but it seemed forced. I don’t think he enjoyed his last few years at Hogwarts. He spent all his free time down in his chambers beneath the school or in his potion’s laboratory. It was only I that knew of his hideaway. It was asked of me to keep it from Godric and Helga. His final words were that he was sorry he didn’t live up to my expectations, but he did. He is a great man, and the greatest friend that I will ever have.

He was broken when his son died, but he seemed to fall more into himself when Ashton was killed in a raid of his family’s home when he went abroad. We never knew just how close Sal had become with Ashton. I knew he had spent many nights with him, but did not know of how deep the feeling ran within. I do believe it was love, but not a deep love, like a soul mate. I have seen it, he will meet his someday. I only wish I was there to see the magic flare to life when they do meet.

All thought Salazar had left the school from the many disputes he had about having non-magical children here, but he did not leave, not really. He is still within these walls, waiting for his second chance in life. To the one that reads this, and there would only be one that would be able to until it is read by you for the magic to let others read upon its pages - it is your destiny to awaken him. You are his soul mate. I am sure you are thinking this is all in jest, but I have seen a raven-haired beauty of a man awaken him, a kiss of life. When I had found out his plan to take his death potion, I had added a few ingredients to make it not so. Now he sleeps as of the dead. I have also de-aged him to closer to your age instead of the man that lay down in his crypt of his own making in his chambers. I would like to think he is more comfortable in his own bed, the doors and rooms sealed thanks to the magic of the castle. Be good to each other.

Hogwarts was once my dream, my vision, but I found Salazar, Helga, and Godric to share that dream. It has flourished under our care, and I know it will continue to be there to teach and comfort many in the years to come.

Rowena Ravenclaw

Co-headmistress of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

“Merlin,” Harry muttered under his breath as he closed the book, his heart hammering against his chest. He must have read the final passage a dozen times or more, just trying to understand what was written within. Rowena couldn’t possibly be referring to him. That notion was preposterous.


tbc
(Jan. 6/10)