Why Salazar Left

Albus Dumbledore,

Due to a recent finding in the will of one Henry* Slytherin, you are no longer the magical caretaker of the vaults of one Harry James Potter. Effective immediately, we are returning all moneys you have withdrawn to these vaults as well as extracting a fine for theft from your own vaults.

In addition, your claim that Harry Potter is deceased has been found to be false and the will you have sent us, destroyed. Should you attempt to pursue this claim any further, we will be forced to take your actions before the Wizengamot.

We do apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you.

Sincerely,

Griphook

Gringotts Bank

Trust of the Potter vaults

After dinner, Harry found himself once again in Salazar’s arms as he was returned to his room.

“Since you are the age of the students who will be arriving in a month, you are free to attend classes if you wish. If not, I invite you to join me in my lab. It would be a pleasure to brew in your company.”

Harry looked up at Salazar and smiled. “I doubt you would want me to assist you in brewing. My potions professor is always ranting about what a failure I am at potions. I would probably only explode a cauldron or two.”

Salazar chuckled as they approached the door to Harry’s room.

“Crookshanks,” Harry hissed to the painting, causing Salazar to lift an eyebrow.

“Crookshanks? May I inquire as to who this Crookshanks is?” He set Harry down on the settee before joining him and gathering him in his arms.

“Crookshanks is my friend’s familiar. He’s part Kneazle. I figured that using his name is a good way to remember that I will eventually have to return to my own time. The temptation to stay here and forget that I’m fighting a war is too strong.”

“You are far too young to be fighting a war.”

“I’m fourteen. That is not too young. Besides, he killed my father, he deserves to die.” Harry stopped speaking and started giggling, his eyes tearing up with his laughter.

“What have you found so amusing?”

“I was reminded of a character in a Muggle story, one you look a lot like. His father was murdered and he pursued his killer. When they finally met and fought, he kept introducing himself and saying ‘You killed my father, prepare to die.’”

Salazar lifted an eyebrow, not seeing what was funny about Harry’s explanation, but not wishing to offend the boy by saying so. When Harry had finished laughing, he wiped his eyes of the tears and looked up at Salazar with a serious expression.

“Why can I only speak Parseltongue?”

Salazar raised an eyebrow at the name, no one had bothered naming the snake language before.

“I am not sure. I suspect it is due to your magical exhaustion. Once you have slept, you should be able to speak English once more.”

Harry nodded and yawned, attempting to cover it with his hand.

“Now, it is time that I saw you into your bed. There is time enough tomorrow to speak.”

Salazar stood, gathering Harry into his arms and carrying him into the bedchamber. He transfigured the strange clothes that Harry still wore into a night robe, and pulled the blankets over the boy. Bending, he pressed a kiss to Harry’s scar.

“Sleep, Little Speaker. We will talk when you awaken.”

Harry was asleep before he’d even left the room.

Entering his private library, Salazar summoned his bottle of Firewhiskey and a book. He had research on a new potion to do, and no matter how beautiful, he was not going to allow their guest to distract him from it. Before he could settle down into a chair and begin reading, there was a knock at the door.

He opened it to reveal Helga smiling sheepishly at him. “Salazar, if we may talk?”

He nodded and opened the door wider, gesturing for her to take a seat before he did so himself.

“What is on your mind, Helga?”

“Salazar, you know we care deeply for you. In that vein, I cannot help but notice that you seem to be enchanted by our visitor. Please, Salazar, practice caution. At some point in time, the boy will have to return to his own time.”

Salazar ran a hand through his black hair, sighing. “I know, Helga, I know. I find myself unable to stop thinking about him, though. The boy intrigues me; he raises every protective instinct in my body. I’m torn between wanting to wrap him in my arms and love him and wanting to hide him from the dangers of the world. Knowing even the small bit of his story that he has shared, I find myself reluctant to leave his side.”

Helga gave him a knowing nod. “Salazar, you’re falling in love with the boy. I know that look anywhere.”

Salazar scoffed. “I’ve known him for a matter of hours, Helga. Love is unlikely. I’m simply curious about him.”

Helga stood, approaching his bookcase. She browsed the books for a moment before selecting one, opening it, and setting it in front of him.

“Read.”

Salazar read.

On rare occasions, a witch or wizard has been known to find his or her true love with one glance. These occasions are usually surrounded by extreme circumstances, such as one or both people being in danger. The one to notice the connection is always the elder of the two. He or she feels an overwhelming need to protect the younger mate, followed by a desire to be constantly by the mate’s side. If another witch or wizard attempts to touch the mate in his or her presence, violent behavior is to be expected. In the case of an all male match or an all female match, procreation is possible, proving that these matches are true love.

As he finished reading, Salazar looked up at Helga, who had a dreamy look in her eye. “You believe that this explains why I feel this way about Harry?”

Helga nodded. “Of course, dear. You’ve never warmed up to another person the way you have to him. What other explanation is there?”

Salazar nodded thoughtfully. What Helga said made sense. He was not even this emotionally invested in his family. The thought of his family made him growl again. He had arrangements to make to guarantee that his sister’s descendants would have no claim on his money or abilities. Yes, he would break his promise to Harry in order to prevent his descendant from harming his love.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, threw another Cruciatus curse at his closest Death Eater, not even looking at which one it was. He held a letter from Gringotts above his head and spoke in a hiss.

“Who can explain to me how this came to be? What has Dumbledore done to convince Gringotts that I am not the heir of Salazar Slytherin? Well, explain!”

His Death Eaters fumbled for an explanation, not wanting to be punished further by their Lord. As no explanation came forth, Voldemort cast another series of Unforgivables, lashing out at anyone in the room. When it was clear that nothing would appease his anger, he dismissed them and stormed out of his throne room, slamming doors as he went.

*Henry was a very common name in the tenth and eleventh centuries and can be changed to Harry just as easily as leaving it (ask my car). In the interest of not giving the situation away to Dumbledore, all documents referring to Harry in the past will use the name Henry.

imsandi: I'm flattered that you decided to read my story despite the fact that it is a Founders story. I hope that I do not disappoint. And I agree with you, a pregnant Harry is an adorable Harry.