Harry didn't know what had gone wrong with the spell. He didn't think he really wanted to know, either.

"Maybe you paused wrong."

Not that Harry's wants kept Hermione from theorising.

"Maybe it was You-Know-Who's plan."

Or Ron from making up conspiracy theories.

"Uhg..."

Or the man who appeared where the horcrux had sat from waking up.

The three friends traded looks, then turned to the man in silence.

The man who had appeared was muscular, but thin, with shoulder-length black hair and tanned skin. He was dressed all in dark green, trimmed in silver. His tunic and cloak were in perfect condition and a sword hung from the plain leather belt around his waist.

The man groaned again and opened stunning pale green eyes. Then he asked something in a language that sounded vaguely Gaelic, which Hermione had studied briefly when they decided to escape Voldemort's people in Northern Ireland, where the political unrest made things difficult for even the magical government.

"Ni thuigim," Hermione tried, stumbling over the words she barely knew and never practised. "An bhfuil Béarla agat?"

"English?" the man replied with a heavy accent and a frown.

Hermione nodded, looking hopeful.

"I asked where I am," he said after a moment of silence. Hermione thought his accent sounded rather Scottish, though he'd spoken Gaelic.

"Northern Ireland," Ron replied coolly. "Where do you think you are?"

The man looked around with disbelief for a long moment, ignoring Ron, who was turning red with anger. Suddenly, the man's eyes widened and he froze.

"Uhm, are you okay?" Hermione, ever the compassionate one, asked.

The man turned to stare at her, horror and excitement warring in his eyes. "What is today's date?"

"The twenty-fourth of September, 1997," Hermione replied, frowning.

"It worked," the man whispered.

"What did?" Hermione requested.

The man smiled at the three best friends. "My name is Salazar Slytherin and I'm from the year 797."

Ron and Harry gaped at him in disbelief. Hermione fainted.

Slytherin laughed.

~
Hotel in County Armagh, Northern Ireland
~

"Okay," Hermione started once they'd all settled down in the room the three friends had been staying in, "somehow, destroying that horcrux summoned Salazar Slytherin. And you meant to time travel?" she asked the Founder.

Slytherin sighed. "I went to a Seer, after I fell out with Godric, and she told me a prophecy–"

"I'm getting really sick of these prophecies," Harry muttered to himself.

"–which stated that I should arrange myself on the Moon's Stone on the eve of the moon's dark, so I might be sent to those students who needed me most." He eyed the three teens critically. "I would assume that would mean you three."

"We don't need a slimy snake's help," Ron growled. "Especially not You-Know-Who's ancestor. Probably side with the man the second he gets the chance."

"I'm still here," Slytherin commented drily. "And I have no idea what you're talking about. For that matter, you haven't even introduced yourselves." He eyed them meaningfully.

"Oh!" Hermione squeaked. "I'm so sorry! I'm Hermione Granger, this is Ron Weasley, and that's Harry Potter."

Slytherin considered the children. The red-headed boy was clearly of Godric's house, judging by how rude he was. He'd guess the girl would have been in Ravenclaw, as she seemed to have all the smarts. As for the last boy... "I was under the impression that Godric's House despised mine."

"We do," Ron assured him, glaring.

Slytherin eyed Harry with even more curiosity. "Then why..."

"I'm a Gryffindor," Harry offered abruptly, knowing what the man was going to say.

Slytherin narrowed his eyes. "I think I can spot my own House, young man."

Ron looked offended. "Harry's no Slytherin! He's the quidditch captain for Gryffindor and everything."

"Quidditch?" Slytherin repeated, no comprehension on his face.

"Sport?" Ron replied, looking disbelieving. "Played on broomsticks?"

Harry coughed. "Ron, quidditch wasn't created until after Slytherin's time. Remember, the Pitch wasn't added until the twelve hundreds."

Hermione huffed. "If only you had paid attention to your schoolbooks as much as you did that stupid quidditch book!"

Harry rolled his eyes and looked back at Slytherin. "It's a sport that's really popular in the wizarding world today; practically every country in Europe has at least one team. The Houses each have their own team, and I'm captain for Gryffindor's team."

Slytherin snorted, but changed the topic by asking, "Who is this... 'You-Know-Who'?"

"Voldemort," Harry supplied, rolling his eyes again when Ron shuddered. "Oh, get over it, Ron. Anyway! He's your Heir. Carrying out your life's work of wiping out all... Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked Slytherin, seeing the 'you're mad' look in the man's eyes.

"I never had children," the Founder replied.

"You sure you didn't accidentally have a moment with a woman that would have resulted in kids?" Hermione asked.

"Bloody hell, Hermione."

"Impossible," Slytherin said. "I never slept with any women."

Harry's eyes narrowed at the wording, and Hermione blinked. Ron just grinned and said, "The evil Slytherin's a virgin?"

"I said I've never slept with a woman, boy, not that I'm a virgin."

"Then who would you have..." Ron's eyes widened as he made the connection. "Oh."

"Yes, Ron," Hermione commented drily. "Oh."

"If that's the case, then why would Voldemort think he was your Heir?" Harry enquired, ignoring Ron and Hermione with practised ease. "I mean, he's a Parselmouth and everything."

Slytherin sneered. "Just because I was the better known Parselmouth doesn't mean I was the only one, little serpent."

Harry frowned at the label the Founder had given him, but chose to ignore it in favour of saying, "So that means Voldemort isn't a Slytherin?"

The Founder sighed. "I didn't say that. My father often... how did the girl put it? Ah, he often 'had moments' with women, as it was quite common at the time for men to do so. I have something like three brothers and two sisters, though I've only met one of my brothers, personally. Parseltongue was my father's gift, and all my brothers would have been named Slytherin, so it is feasible that this 'Voldemort' is related in that way."

"Wouldn't want to go to one of those family reunions," Ron muttered.

"Probably would end up looking a lot like your own," Hermione retorted, then looked at Slytherin and asked, "So, were you a muggle-hater?"

Slytherin blinked. "Muggle?"

"People without magic," Hermione explained.

"Oh!" Slytherin shrugged. "I wasn't fond of them, but few of us were, what with them burning or drowning people left and right for the slightest infractions. My own mother was a non-magical, and she was burned at the stake for my accidental magic."

"You're a halfblood?" Ron squeaked at the same time as Hermione said, "I'm sorry, sir."

Slytherin sighed. "This supposed heir; he goes around killing non-magicals?"

Harry nodded. "Anyone who's not a pureblood. Erm... Anyone who's not able to trace their magical ancestry back through how-ever many generations."

Slytherin shook his head. "Sounds like one of my sisters."

"Well, now we know where his line came from," Ron joked weakly.

"But why would it be attributed to you?" Harry asked of Slytherin.

Slytherin shrugged. "I would assume I was the best know of my family's line?" When the three teens nodded, he said, "That would be why. History tends to twist itself in myths over the centuries. Godric may also have had a hand in it."

"Wait," Ron interrupted, "if you and Gryffindor didn't fight over blood purity, why did you leave?"

Slytherin looked mildly uncomfortable, but said, "He found out I preferred men. Magicals viewed the refusal to bear offspring just as non-magicals did at the time. It was either leave, or be lynched."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said again.

Slytherin shook his head. "It's in the past." He smiled grimly. "Over a thousand years in the past, in fact." He cleared his throat. "Now! Did I hear someone mention horcruxes?"

Harry nodded. "Voldemort made a few."

Slytherin cocked an eyebrow at him. "A few?"

"Six, so far as we know," Hermione supplied.

Slytherin just blinked for a long moment, then sighed and rubbed at his eyes, muttering something in Gaelic.

Hermione thought she caught something about 'children' and possibly some form of 'fool', but she wasn't certain. When Harry and Ron glanced at her, she just shrugged.

"Ignoring the question of why he would do something like that," Slytherin said in English, "what do you know of them?"

"Horcruxes in general, or Voldemort's specifically?" Harry asked, ignoring Ron's shudder at the Dark Lord's name.

Slytherin considered him. "Both."

"Horcruxes are the container for a piece of soul, which is split during the act of killing someone in cold blood," Harry replied firmly while Hermione hesitated over discussing the Dark magic. "And we know two – three now, since that one that helped bring you here is gone – are destroyed. Of the other three we know for sure two: Voldemort's pet snake and a cup said to belong to Helga Hufflepuff. The last is an unknown, but we believe it to be something that belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw."

Slytherin nodded. "That would likely be her diadem." He glanced at Hermione. "Surely you would know it? There is a bust of Rowena in the Ravenclaw common room."

Hermione blinked. "I'm a Gryffindor."

Slytherin blinked at her in disbelief. "What has that hat been doing?" he complained. "I told Godric a hat would never be able to properly sort students into Houses..."

Hermione laughed a little, sounding nervous. "I, uhm... I asked it to put me in Gryffindor. It said I was better suited to Ravenclaw, but I'd heard so much good about Gryffindor, and always been teased for being clever in primary school..."

Slytherin sighed and looked at Harry. "And you? You argued with that ratty thing too?"

"Harry's not a Slytherin!" Ron insisted.

Harry turned to watch Ron for a moment, waiting for the redhead to quiet down before he looked back at Slytherin. "Yes," he said.

"Harry!" Ron cried, scandalised.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at his best friend. "Parselmouth," he reminded him drily. "Certain propensity for breaking the rules and getting away with it."

Slytherin chuckled. "A Parselmouth?"

Harry grimaced and nodded, pointing to the scar on his forehead. "Voldemort tried to kill me when I was a baby, but it didn't work. Bounced off and hit him. Left me with this. I get visions from him, sometimes, and I can speak Parseltongue because of it," he explained.

Slytherin's eyes narrowed and he jerked forward to touch the scar before any of the others had the chance to react. Ron was just pulling out his wand when the Founder sat back in his chair, frowning. "That scar is a horcrux," he reported.

Harry swallowed.

"What?" Ron shouted. "Harry's not–"

"You seem very certain about what your friend is not, little lion cub," Slytherin replied. "I have seen horcruxes before, I know what they feel like. That scar is one."

Hermione took a deep breath, glancing over at where Harry was sitting, very still and a little pale. "Is there a way to remove it without hurting Harry?" she asked.

Slytherin looked over at the girl speculatively, then to Harry. "You said he tried to kill you and the spell rebounded?" Harry nodded stiffly. "What spell was it?"

"The Killing Curse," Harry replied quietly.

Slytherin snorted. "Figures. Very well." Then he turned his wand on Harry and intoned, "Avada Kedavra."

"Harry!" Hermione and Ron shouted, jumping to their feet.

Harry just blinked as the spell hit his scar. He felt a brief, blinding flash of pain, and then it was over. He reached up, very slowly, and touched the now smooth surface of his forehead. "It's gone," he murmured.

Slytherin looked quite smug and put his wand away.

"H-Harry?" Hermione whispered, reaching out and not quite touching his arm. Next to her, Ron's freckles stood out sharply on his pale face.

"I'm okay," the boy said, offering his two best friends a smile. "Hermione, have we got any Headache Potions left?"

Hermione and Ron both turned as one to get Harry the requested potion, tripping over each other.

Harry sighed and glanced back at Slytherin, who raised an eyebrow at him. "Some warning would have been appreciated," the teen commented.

Slytherin raised his other eyebrow. "And then you would have flinched or tried to duck. Or your friends would have tried to talk one of us out of it."

"Of course we would have!" Ron snapped.

Hermione handed Harry the requested potion. "I would have rather there'd been another way," she commented as Harry downed the potion.

Slytherin shrugged. "Voldemort could have regretted making it. But the horcrux had become too entwined in his soul to simply cut off the scar that was imbued with it. Perhaps when it had first occurred..."

Harry once again touched the now bare skin of his forehead while Hermione took the potion bottle away. "Voldemort would never regret trying to kill me," he said with certainty. "But, what do you mean, it had become entwined in my soul?"

Slytherin sighed. "You said you could speak Parseltongue?" Harry nodded. "That wouldn't have been true when the horcrux was just formed, because it would have been separate. Over time, that bit of soul would have attached itself to the greater piece of soul in your own body. If that soul had been any more powerful, or you any less determined to remain your own person, you would have become another Voldemort."

Harry shuddered. "Thanks," he said, not quite certain why he was thanking the Founder.

"Is that... like what almost happened to Ginny?" Ron asked, mouth dry.

At Slytherin's curious look, Harry explained, "The first horcrux we met was living in a diary. Ginny, Ron's sister, started writing in the diary. It possessed her slowly, over the year, and let out a basilisk on the school. Eventually, she was left down in the Chamber of Secrets and he was going to use her soul or some-such to make a new body."

"In answer to your question, then, yes. That's exactly what would have happened. Except the horcrux in the little serpent's scar wasn't powerful enough to make its own body; it would have made do with his," Slytherin said, and all three teens shuddered at the thought. "Now, explain why there was a basilisk in my school."

"Didn't you put it there?" Ron snapped.

"Ronald!" Hermione hissed. "He wasn't trying to kill off the muggleborns!"

"So he says," Ron grumbled back.

Slytherin looked at Harry, who was rolling his eyes at his best friends. "A translation?" the Founder requested.

Harry coughed, but his two friends continued bickering, so he shrugged and said, "Legend tells of a secret chamber under the school you built which contained a basilisk. Supposedly, when the true Heir of Slytherin came, he would release the basilisk and kill all the muggleborns in the school, thereby purifying our world. Or some such."

Slytherin blinked. "I didn't leave a basilisk in the school."

"I believe you," Harry said as Ron turned to snap about how Slytherin most certainly had.

"Harry!" Ron complained.

Harry just eyed him with amusement.

"And the chamber, if it's the one I'm thinking of, was built to keep the students safe if there was ever an attack on the school," Slytherin continued, ignoring the redhead. "The professors should have had a password to open it in such an event."

"It had a Parseltongue password," Harry said.

Slytherin blinked. "Someone changed it, then. We never would have made it a language that only a minority could use." He shrugged. "There was a large statue of Merlin in there."

Harry nodded, recalling the statue he'd once thought was Slytherin himself. Though, seeing the man in person, he had to admit that the statue looked nothing like him. "There were also snakes everywhere."

Slytherin sighed. "Changed the password and redecorated, then. I must assume this to have been the work of one of my siblings or their offspring. It is not to Godric's taste, although he was disgusted enough that he might well have tried to drag my name through the mud."

Harry nodded, knowing full-well how cruel people could be under the right conditions.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I don't suppose you know where Ravenclaw's diadem would be? Or the Cup?"

Slytherin rubbed his chin and nodded. "The diadem is, itself, quite magical, so finding it shouldn't be too much trouble, since I know what I'm looking for. This cup could prove more trouble; Helga had quite a collection."

"Hufflepuff collected cups?" Ron asked, disbelieving.

"Helga collected pretty things," Slytherin corrected, lips twisting with a fond smile. "Her favourite thing was to work with the earth, and the best part, she always told us, was seeing the finished product. Gems and precious metals are finished products, same as plants, just with a bit more shine."

"Oh," Hermione breathed, eyes shining.

Slytherin shook his memories away and looked the three teens over. "I don't suppose any of you know what the cup looks like? I might recognise it."

"Gold, two handles and a badger engraved on one side," Harry replied promptly. "About this big." He cupped his hands to show the size he remembered it being.

"Were the handles curved, or straight?" Slytherin requested, frowning.

"Curved," Harry recalled.

"Any gems? In the badger's eye, perhaps?"

Harry frowned in thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I didn't see any."

"We shall assume there were none, then," Slytherin decided. "I believe I know the one you're speaking of. Helga had one fairly plain cup very much like the one you described which she often used to store wildflowers in, insisting the natural beauty of the flowers enhanced the plain beauty of the gold cup." He smiled at Hermione's enthralled expression. "It had a couple spells on it to keep the flowers alive longer and keep the water full; not as uncommon as the spells on Rowena's diadem, but I should be able to locate it with minor difficulty."

"How are you going to locate them?" Hermione wondered, more than a little excited. "Some obscure spell?"

"I couldn't say if it's obscure or not," Slytherin pointed out as be pulled a small hand mirror with a silver snake twining around the tarnished handle from a small pouch on his belt. "I intend to scry for them."

"Oh. Divination," Ron muttered while Hermione grimaced.

"We had a bit of a fraud for a Divination professor," Harry explained to Slytherin's raised eyebrow. "Her favourite pastime was finding someone each year and regularly predicting their death. I was it for our year."

Slytherin grimaced. "You have my sympathies," he offered before shaking his head. "I am no Seer, however, so I make no predictions. I only scry the present."

"Is that divination, then?" Hermione wondered. "Trelawney seemed pretty intent on looking into the future."

"Future divination is the most well known," Slytherin allowed, glancing down at his mirror with a frown, "but hardly the only divination out there. It's also the most difficult to master, for you must be willing to open yourself to the movements of time to See anything, and you must also keep in mind that what you See may not come to pass, depending on the choices of the present. Present divination is much simpler, though there remain restrictions on it, as well, such as a familiarity with whatever you're attempting to scry. For example, I could not scry this Voldemort, for all that we share similar blood, though one of you could find him."

"Harry's the only one who could scry him, if it's familiarity you need," Hermione replied quietly. When Slytherin looked up at her with a frown, she explained, "Ron and I have never encountered him."

"His horcrux may have been enough," Slytherin replied, shaking his head. "Perhaps not the one in the little serpent, given how much a part of him it was, but you have handled another horcrux recently, correct? The one you destroyed to call me?"

"Oh. Yes."

"You would manage," Slytherin said, looking back at his mirror and frowning. "A room filled with things?" he suggested, glancing back up at them. "The diadem is rested on the sculpture of a man's head, which is resting atop a damaged cupboard."

"That's the Room of Requirement!" Harry realised, sitting up. "I hid the Potions book in that cupboard!" He grimaced, then added, "I had the diadem in my hands."

"At least we know where it is?" Ron suggested while Hermione sniffed at the mention of Snape's old book.

"A room which changes shape depending on what you need?" Slytherin enquired, expression closed.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. On the seventh floor. You have to walk back and forth in front of the door three times, thinking hard about what you need."

Slytherin nodded. "So, they finished it," he murmured before looking back down at the mirror again. The three students held their tongues as the man frowned into the image only he could see before saying, "Piles of gold and silver." He glanced up at them. "I believe I see Godric's sword in there, but there's something wrong with it."

" 'Something wrong'?" Hermione repeated while Ron turned to Harry and hissed, "That sword was supposed to be yours."

Slytherin shook his head. "I can't tell for sure from a scrying, but I know there's something different about it, something not quite right. If I touched it, I could tell you what's wrong."

"So it's in a vault?" Harry suggested, rubbing absently at the spot his scar had once been.

Slytherin nodded. "Very likely. Is there a centralised money depository?"

"Gringotts," Hermione said before Ron could open his mouth and say something insulting or stupid. "But it's run by goblins and they guard the vaults with everything they can. We don't even know which vault it's in!"

"Voldemort doesn't have one?"

"I very much doubt it," Harry murmured, shaking his head. "But he's bequeathed a horcrux to one of his Death Eaters before, so it's not outside the realm of possibility that he might do it again."

"The last time didn't go so well for him, though, did it?" Ron said with a smile.

"You think he'd trust someone else with one of his horcruxes?" Hermione wondered, ignoring Ron.

"As much as he trusted Malfoy, yeah." Harry nodded. "Tell them to keep it safe, but don't tell them what it is. He gave the diary to Malfoy, who was one of his favourites, so I'd say he gave the cup to Snape or one of the Lestranges, most likely Bellatrix." He grimaced as he made his suggestions, not liking their options in the least.

"Would he trust Snape, though?" Hermione wondered. "He was so close to Dumbledore..."

"Bellatrix, then," Harry decided, and sighed. "So, all we have to do is steal the cup from the Lestrange vault, sneak into Hogwarts without being killed, and find Nagini. Brilliant."

"Isn't there some way you can, I dunno, call the horcruxes to you?" Ron asked Slytherin.

"Not without a claim of ownership," Slytherin replied, shaking his head and slipping his mirror away.

"Bugger."

Hermione, however, was staring at Slytherin, something devious glinting in her eyes. "You're Salazar Slytherin," she said quietly.

Slytherin raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."

Hermione looked down at Ron. "You'd do anything Gryffindor asked if he was here, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah," Ron agreed, looking uncertain. "Why?"

"So a Slytherin might do something they wouldn't otherwise consider doing if it was for their Founder," Harry realised, turning to Slytherin. "Do you think, if we pointed her out, you could talk Bellatrix into giving you the cup? Or, at the least, showing you to the vault? Perhaps for Gryffindor's sword."

Slytherin cocked his head. "I might, yes. But I've no certainty that she'd believe it was me."

"It's worth a shot, though," Hermione insisted. "It's all we've got, really. And tricking her would be easier than sneaking into Gringotts."

"I would have one of you come with me," Slytherin commented. "Invisible, if possible."

"We could all go," Ron suggested.

Harry shook his head. "The Cloak can only fit two, at the most. Ron, why don't you and Hermione see about getting into Hogwarts for the diadem? Owl Ginny and see if she or one of the others knows about a way inside the wards that the Death Eaters aren't watching. We can meet back up here or at a previous camp site."

"The Death Eaters still seem to be having trouble in Northern Ireland, so this hotel should still be safe," Hermione commented. "If you see someone when you get back, leave a sign and apparate back to our last site; we can meet up there."

Harry nodded and glanced out the gap in the window covering. "Let's all get some sleep while we can, then, and head out first thing in the morning."

"How're we setting up the beds?" Ron wondered, shooting Slytherin a suspicious look.

Slytherin snorted while Harry closed his eyes and rubbed carefully at the bridge of his nose. Hermione let out an irritated sound. "Honestly, Ron!"

The room had two full-size beds. Hermione had been taking one while Harry and Ron kicked each other in their sleep on the other. Hermione had commented once that she didn't mind if Ron shared with her, but the ginger had turned bright red and stuttered out a no before making his escape to the grocery down the way for bread that they hadn't needed.

"Ron, you can sleep with Hermione and I'll share with Slytherin," Harry said. When Ron opened his mouth to refuse, Harry added, "Unless you'd prefer to sleep with him? Or I suppose Hermione could; she doesn't seem to mind."

"It wouldn't be a problem, n–" Hermione agreed.

"Fine!" Ron glowered between his girlfriend and best friend, both of whom were grinning, then glared at the Founder. "If you do anything to Harry–"

"Calm down, lion cub," Slytherin replied, lips curled with amusement. "Until one of you give me a reason to cause you harm, I won't. I am not your enemy."

"So you say," Ron muttered, but subsided.

Hermione pulled out their stash of food and handed out servings to everyone. Once they'd eaten, they took turns in the toilet, then all turned in.

-0-