A Truth

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize isn’t mine. It’s all JK Rowling’s or Scholastic’s or… well, someone’s, someone not being me.

A/N: OK, I know it’s been a long time since I last updated so if you feel the need to yell at me, I understand. I’m terribly sorry… I quite honestly just forgot about the story. That being said, I’m hoping I can get back to some kind of decent updating schedule, as I still want to finish this story.

I’m not sure how out there my idea about ghosts being able to retain some magic is, but as this fic is AU after HBP and DH, I’m not too worried about it.

Oh yes, this fic is VERY AU now. I started it before HBP was published and so it’s AU in terms of the last two books.

Chapter Five: A Truth

Hermione could barely keep her fury contained as she stalked through the stone hallways of Hogwarts castle. Many of the portraits scurried into what shelter they could find upon seeing her, only emerging once she was safely past. Their whispers followed her, though she ignored them.

“Self-righteous, interfering bastard!” she muttered to herself, flaring her nostrils slightly in her anger. “How dare he think he had the right to do that?”

He didn’t, Lioness, the voice told her, startling her. Even that most arrogant man does not have the gall to do such a thing to a witch like yourself. Hermione whipped her head about in a vain effort to find the speaker, but could see nothing beyond the statues and portraits that lined the halls.

“Who are you?” she whispered to the empty hall. “Where are you? Why don’t you show yourself?” Her words echoed against the stone slightly, giving an eerie tone to her voice.

I do not believe that you need to see me at this moment. As for your other question … , the voice hesitated. I was once a man. My name was Salazar Slytherin. Now, I am no more than a ball of energy and thought. You would know me as a ghost, I suppose, though I am not quite that. The uncertainty in the voice—Salazar’s, she supposed—faded, and he continued with more force. You needn’t think that I was trespassing in your mind intentionally, Lioness. My ability, which most would call a gift, is far more of a curse. We remnants, ghosts if you will, generally do not retain our powers after death. Only the strongest of us can hold onto even a little magic. My strongest ability when I was alive was Legilimency, and so I retain my ability to use it.

“How can that be a curse?” Hermione asked, her eyes still flicking back and forth despite Salazar’s assurance that he would not show himself. “Furthermore, why do you feel you have the right to intrude upon other’s minds? I would not take such arrogance from Professor Snape and I certainly won’t accept it from you!”

Ah, therein lies the crux of the issue, his voice sighed, a mixture of sorrow and resignation almost dripping from the words. I may have retained my ability, but I have lost my control over it. I can no more choose when I do and do not read minds than you could have chosen to block me. The most I can do is avoid meeting the eyes of everyone I come across. You might understand where that might become difficult, being a ghost.

Hermione considered this for a moment before sighing and shrugging her shoulders. “Yes, I can see where that might become a problem. I would never have thought that life as a ghost could come with difficulties such as that.”

“Most don’t,” Salazar’s voice said from behind her, and she whirled to face his pearly form. He was tall and slender to the point of almost being gaunt, with a long beard and short, sleek hair. His eyes could have been cruel if not for the smile that hovered at their corners. In a way, he reminded Hermione of her grandfather, harsh to those he did not know or who offended him but deeply devoted to his loving family.

“Why?” she blurted, not even realizing her question until after it escaped her lips. “Why are you speaking to me? You hated Muggle-borns; you didn’t even want us at Hogwarts. I can hardly suppose that you don’t know what I am, so why are you even speaking to me, never mind being so polite?” The smile on Salazar’s face faded a bit and became a sad one.

“So that old bone is still being gnawed, is it? I would’ve though Godric possessed the honour not to try to make me look bad even after forcing me out of my home. Then again, he always did speak so vociferously of his ‘brave and daring deeds’. I suppose tossing mean, old Slytherin out and away from his precious children was just one more to him.” He looked at her sadly and the bitterness faded from his voice.

“Little Lioness, I never wished to keep the Muggle-born children from our school. I only intended to keep the school safe from the witch-burning, magic-hating frenzies of the Muggles at the time. I protested the free admittance of so many children who could easily return to their homes and lead mobs to our gates. I worried, also, for those children whose families would fear and loathe them because of their powers. I only wanted to admit those who would be safe, both for us and from the hatred of the superstitious foolishness of the time. Unfortunately, that has been skewed over the centuries into portraying me as a hater of Muggle-born witches and wizards, which couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Throughout his speech, Hermione had stared in utter disbelief at Salazar. Surely Hogwarts: A History couldn’t be wrong! she thought to herself, having based so much on the book throughout her seven years at Hogwarts. Nonetheless, listening to the ghost’s impassioned voice, she could hardly disbelieve what he was saying. History is written by the victors, Hermione. You knew this about Muggle books. Why should it not be true about Wizarding works as well?

“This is… a lot to consider,” she said at last, looking up at Salazar with eyes that she knew conveyed her confusion. “This whole day has been. It’s been so long since I’ve been at Hogwarts… I’d almost forgotten how overwhelming it can be at times.” Salazar nodded his head in silent agreement, his eyes now returning to their previous kind softness.

“If you would permit me the honour then, Lioness, I will walk you to your chambers,” he said, holding out an ethereal hand to her. She hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do.

“I’d rather visit the library,” she admitted, looking down at her shoes and blushing. “If you don’t mind, that is.” He chuckled at her kindly then floated a few steps nearer.

“I don’t mind at all. Rowena always said that if I’d been born a generation later, I would have been one of her students. Lead on to the library, Lioness.” Hermione nodded and set off at a sedate pace, Salazar floating beside her. As they headed up a set of stairs, she hesitated and turned to him slightly.

“You know, you can call me Hermione, if you’d like.”

“I don’t think I’d mind that… Hermione,” he said and they continued on, heads together, discussing things as though they were old friends.