Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, am not JK Rowling, so I don't own Harry Potter.

Hello, my dear readers! This is the Pencil Goddess here! I'm so sorry for not updating my stories, but I've been busy. For Mendacium, I haven't been able to update because, for the whole summer, I went on vacation! I left June 19, and came back August 5. Then, I had to deal with my annoying jet-lag, which lasted for around two weeks! And after that, I was pretty busy with my weird schedules, and school started September 4 for me! But now, I am here with a new story, featuring Salazar!Harry.

This story is a bit different from the other Salazar!Harry stories, I guess. Most of those stories feature a Salazar that loves all magic and muggleborns, and has nothing against muggles, unless they kill his younger sister, or something similar to that. But in here, you get a a Salazar who doesn't like muggleborns and muggles.

This is NOT SLASH, by the way.

Sorry for any typos, and enjoy!

Harry Potter hated his relatives. He hated about how they called him a freak. He hated how Dudley always tried to intimidate him. He hated how Vernon treated him. He hated Petunia, because it was obvious that she only acted the way she did with him was because she was jealous of his mother. The way she talked about her sister gave it away. And currently, he hated how he was always forced to do things that his relatives were too lazy to do themselves.

"Get the mail, Dudley," Vernon said when he heard the mail slot click and the letters flop onto the doormat.

"Make Harry get it," Harry's cousin whined.

The fat lump only said that because he wouldn't be able to go to the front door and back without breaking sweat, he thought darkly.

"Get the mail, Harry," Vernon grunted, surprising Harry with the use of his first name. Then again, Vernon probably only said that because he was too stupid to remember that he never called Harry by his name. It was always either boy, or freak.

Rolling his eyes, Harry got up from the table and went to the front door. Three letters sat on the doormat. One appeared to be a brown envelope that looked like a bill, another was a postcard from Vernon's sister, Marge, and the last was a peculiar letter for him.

There must be some mistake, Harry thought, I never get mail from people. But there, on the letter, someone had written:

Mr. H. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whining

Surrey

Harry tucked the envelope into his oversized pants and walked back to the table, carrying the two other letters in his hand. He proceeded to give Vernon the two letters and sat on his chair, eating his small portions calmly.

When everyone was done with breakfast, Harry washed the dishes, as usual, walked back into the cupboard, and closed the door. Then, he took out the letter and turned it over. There, was a wax seal with a coat of arms. The seal had a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large H.

Harry suddenly clutched his stomach as a slight nausea came over him. Was he going to be sick? He seriously didn't want to throw up in his cupboard. Harry tried to shut away the mental image of his barf covering all his stuff. He tried imagining random things.

Snakes, he tried, conjuring up a mental image of his favorite animal. Snakes, and badgers, and lions, and eagles, and castles, and magic…

Harry's mind was suddenly filled with vivid images of a boy who looked just like him. Dark hair tied in a ponytail, bright green eyes, but no glasses. Who was he? Harry felt a sharp pain in his head as memories overcame him.

He was sixteen when he and his friends were trying to figure out the subjects to teach at their unnamed school. They were sitting in the Great Hall, drunk, and giggling to each other.

"It would be so amazing if we could teach cooking," Helga squealed, giggling crazily, twirling her red hair and getting her finger stuck in one of the tangles.

"Oh, please, Helga," he had snapped, feeling annoyed that she had suggested that. "Cooking is for House Elves. Wizards with blood as pure as mine should not be forced to cook."

Godric laughed loudly, clapping him on the back. "Salazar, your ego is getting more and more inflated! Blood should not matter, old friend!" With that, Godric took another sip of firewhiskey.

Rowena rubbed her temples and whined, "We still have to think of a name for our school! We cannot have students to go to a school with no name!" Rowena still had not even touched her firewhiskey, claiming that 'magical drinks' were too strong for her, and she would much rather drink muggle alcohol.

"We could always name it Slytherin's School for Magical Children," he joked.

Godric laughed again. "Maybe we should name it something totally stupid, like Dragonfarts," he suggested.

Helga frowned. "Dragons fart? Would they fart fire? It would be awful if they did, because they could be in a forest, and all the trees would catch on fire!" she exclaimed.

He ignored her. "Maybe we should name it Owlwarts," he mused, causing Godric to roll his eyes.

"Salazar, owls don't have warts." Godric said. "I mean, they have feathers, so how could they have warts? Or maybe they do under their feathers! I got it! They have it under their feathers so no one can see them! That's why the unicorn ate my spinach!" Godric cried, spouting nonsense.

"If owls don't have warts, we can name it Hogwarts," Helga babbled, exuberant that she finally had a suggestion. "Hogs have warts! Right, Rowena?"

"Yes, they do." Rowena said stiffly. "But Hogwarts is a stupid name."

"Don't be a party pooper," he responded. "I like the name. All in favor of naming it Hogwarts?"

He, Helga and Godric raised their hands. And just like that, their new school was called Hogwarts.

Harry stood in his cupboard, letter clutched in his hands, staring at the crest. How could he have been so stupid before? Building a school with a filthy mudblood and blood-traitors? No doubt that the school was overflowing with mudbloods now. That was the reason he, Salazar Slytherin, left the school.

Harry (or was it Salazar?) frowned. He had been reincarnated as a halfblood? With glasses? It was no doubt better than being a filthy mudblood with glasses, but he still found it disgusting. When he got his wand back, he would be able to correct his vision, like how he helped correct Rowena's, even though she was a mudblood. It was worth it when he saw the horror on her face as he revealed how it was classified as a Dark spell!

Smirking, Harry proceeded to open the Hogwarts letter.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Harry sneered at the letter. Await his owl? As Harry Potter, he didn't have an owl! Despite all the mudbloods there, he still wanted to go! He needed to see how his school turned out! But how would he send them his letter?

Harry snuck out of his cupboard and walked over to Arabella Figg's house. After a few seconds of pondering, he had come to the conclusion that she was a Squib. Why else would she have kneazles? Hopefully, she would have parchment, quill, and ink, along with an owl for him to respond with.

"Thank you again, Ms. Figg! I can't possibly thank you enough!" Harry said, ten minutes later, exiting his neighbor's house. After turning on the charm, she nearly fell over herself as she rushed to get him the supplies needed for writing and sending his letter. She even threw in some biscuits and tea while she was at it.

The next day, there was a knock on the door.

"Boy! Get the door!" His filthy muggle uncle roared as Harry put on his glasses, nearly poking himself in the eye as he did so. Harry obediently got out of his cupboard and walked to the door. Hopefully, it would be his Hogwarts escort.

Smoothing out his rumpled, over-sized shirt, he opened the door. A severe-looking woman with her gray hair in a tight bun peered curiously at him as he did so.

"I am Minerva McGonagall, head of the Gryffindor House. You will call me Professor, or Ma'am, at all times, or you will lose house points and find yourself in detention. I am here on behalf of Hogwarts, as your escort to Diagon Alley, where you will get your school supplies," she told him.

Harry's eyes widened innocently at her. "Professor, I'm afraid I don't have a supply list! And is magic actually real? Do you have magic wands? This is so cool!" he babbled, keeping on the act of an innocent child.

McGonagall smiled. "Do not worry, Mr. Potter. I have a list of everything you will need right here." she handed him a letter, and then paused. "May I speak to your guardians?"

Harry smirked internally. If he put on a convincing act, he could have the chance of being removed from his muggle relatives and placed with a nice, pureblooded family instead!

"I- Do you have to, Professor? They-they might be mad at me for interrupting them! They might beat me again!" he cried, clutching at her robes, looking at her with fake tears in his eyes, showing her a bruise on his arm that Vernon had given him. "I- I'm scared! What if they kill me this time! Uncle Vernon said he would kill me if I interrupted him one more time!" he lied, hoping to get her to take him away from the filthy muggles.

McGonagall looked scandalized. "They beat you?" she gasped. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but I will have to talk to them immediately," she said, marching into the kitchen, a murderous expression on her face. McGonagall swung open the kitchen door and glared at Petunia and Vernon, who were making out in a repulsive manner.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley!" McGonagall snapped. "How could you abuse your own nephew! He was placed in your care because Albus was convinced you would be good to him and treat him as your own! How could you? Lily and James would have been furious!"

Vernon turned red and Petunia turned white. "You little freak!" Vernon snarled, lunging at Harry. "What have you been telling the woman?"

Harry fake-sobbed and clutched McGonagall's robes tighter. "I didn't mean to! I swear!" he wailed.

McGonagall patted Harry's shoulder and snapped, "You should be ashamed of yourself, Vernon Dursley! Why, I should take Harry away and place him with a proper family who actually cares about him!"

Petunia turned even paler. "Don't listen to him! He's a liar! We haven't been abusing him at all! He's perfectly fine!" she protested, causing McGonagall to glower at her.

"You think he's fine? He's so skinny! He's probably malnourished, his glasses look broken, and he has bruises everywhere!" McGonagall argued. "I'm taking him to Diagon Alley right now, and when he comes back, you had better be treating him correctly!"

Obviously shaken, Petunia bobbed her head fearfully. Vernon turned even redder.

"Now, listen here! I'm not listening to you! You freaks better be getting out of my house, or I won't hesitate to grab my rifle! You can take him! Take his stuff! We don't even want him in this house!" Vernon exclaimed angrily. Petunia bobbed her head again, but this time, in agreement, and not fear.

This time, McGonagall turned red. "You don't want your nephew? I- I- The nerve of you! Almost everyone in the wizarding world would want to adopt him! In fact, I think he'll be better off there!" she spluttered. Then she turned to Harry, who had stopped pretending to sob. "Mr. Potter, grab your things. We're leaving."

Harry looked down. "It's fine. I don't really have to go get my things. I don't have that many, anyway," he whispered.

McGonagall's eye twitched for a second. "Very well, Mr. Potter. Let us go. But be warned, when travelling like this, most people throw up on their first time." And with that, she grabbed his arm and Apparated.

For the first time in eleven years, Harry was able to feel the thrill of Apparition again. Most people would say that the feeling of being squeezed through a tube was not fun, but to Salazar, it was the best form of transportation, ever.

When the pair landed in Diagon Alley, Harry made sure to clutch his stomach and groan. "I think I'm going to hurl," he muttered, putting on a nauseous expression.

McGonagall threw a sympathetic expression on his face. "Come now, Mr. Potter. We have many things to do today," she said, leading him to what looked like a magical orphanage.

"Witches and wizards have orphanages?" Harry blurted, surprised. He hadn't expected this new development. When he was Salazar, orphans roamed the streets, homeless. There were no formal orphanages.

"Where else do you expect orphans to go?" McGonagall asked, holding open the door.

Harry shrugged and stepped inside, not wanting to mention what happened all those years ago. Things wouldn't go too well if orphanages existed in the muggle world, and not the wizarding world. Then she would question where he got the information.

"Welcome to Flamel's Orphanage for Magical Children! I'm Miss Julia! Would you like to adopt a child? We have children of all ages, and I have no doubt that you'll be able to find the kind of child you're looking for!" a blonde lady who looked to be around twenty-five gushed, all in one breath.

"No, thank you, Miss Mason," McGonagall told the lady.

"Oh, P- Professor McGonagall! What are you doing here? I never thought I'd see you again! What happened?" Julia asked, looking horrified at seeing one of her former teachers where she worked.

McGonagall sighed, looking annoyed, causing Julia to flinch. "Mr. Potter's parents are, unfortunately, deceased, and his relatives are unwilling to take him in. I was wondering if there is a place here at this orphanage."

Julia's blue eyes widened comically. "Harry Potter?" she all but squealed.

Harry mentally rolled his eyes. What could have possibly gotten her so excited? Was it the fact that he was the heir of a prominent pureblood family? Or was it something else entirely?

"That's me," he mumbled, acting shy.

"Oh. My. Merlin. Harry freakin' Potter!" she said. "You're so cute! I never thought I'd have the pleasure of meeting you!"

Time to get some information. "Why? Am I famous or something?" he questioned.

Julia gaped at him. "You mean you don't know?"

Harry resisted the urge to strangle her. Would he be asking if he didn't? "No. Sorry," he whispered, looking at his shoes.

Julia put an arm around him. "Well, Harry," Julia began, "it all started when You-Know-Who attacked your house when you were only one year old. . . "

After what seemed like forever, Julia finally finished talking and gave him a bed at the orphanage. She even sang a song about how he was "Harry freakin' Potter", and how they didn't prefer Gandalf, Merlin, or Oz, which confused him. They didn't prefer Merlin? The wizarding world even said, "Oh my Merlin." They didn't say, "Oh my Harry." Breaking off that train of thought, Harry thought about how excited he was, able to go into Diagon Alley to get school supplies. But first, they had to make a stop at Gringotts, a bank that even existed when Salazar was alive.

Harry and McGonagall walked past many stores, and even one with broomsticks in it. They were talking about the newest Nimbus Two Thousand, which was apparently the fastest broom ever. Harry's eyes had lingered on the broom for a while, his hands wanting to grip a broom again, before looking at a snowy white building, which towered over all the other shops, which now seemed small to him. Gringotts.

It had greatly expanded since Salazar's day. Before, it was a rather small building, but now, it was at least ten times its size before!

As they went inside, Harry saw words that certainly weren't there before, engraved upon a silver door:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

"Good morning," McGonagall said to an unoccupied goblin. "Mr. Potter would like to access his vault."

"Does he have his key?" the goblin asked, eyeing Harry as if he would try to steal from the bank. He wasn't suicidal, nor did he want to go to Azkaban, thank you very much.

"I have it here," McGonagall responded stiffly, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small golden key.

Harry came out of cart holding a large sack of Galleons, sickles, and knuts, feeling exhilarated. Gringotts rides were awesome. McGonagall looked slightly queasy.

"Come now, Mr. Potter. Time for you to get your school uniform," she told him. When they were almost out the door, his escort was stopped by a large man with an unshaven face.

A man that large, Harry thought with disgust, must be a halfbreed. A half-giant, most likely.

"Professor McGonagall!" the man cried jovially. "An' this mus' be young Harry! Why, I haven't seen yeh since th' night yer parents died. . ." the man trailed off, looking slightly sad.

"Hagrid," McGonagall greeted stiffly, looking slightly sad as well. Ah, so both of them were most likely close with his parents. "What are you doing at Gringotts?" McGonagall proceeded to ask.

Hagrid lowered his voice. "I'm picking up th' You-Know-What in vault in vault seven hundred and thirteen." Harry's interest was peaked. What could possibly be so important in that vault?

"I see. Well, we must be going now. Have a good day, Hagrid," McGonagall told him.

"Bye," Harry said. Before he could do anything, Hagrid crushed Harry in a giant hug.

"Good bye," Hagrid said. "It was nice meetin' yeh."

"You too," Harry told him, but it sounded slightly muffled, seeing as how his face was in Hagrid's grimy shirt.

Ew.

McGonagall proceeded to lead Harry to a store called Madam Malkins, or something like that, and told him to wait there while she got his books. Harry sighed and entered the shop. A blonde boy was getting fitted.

"Hi," the boy said. "I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy. Are you going to Hogwarts, too?" The way the boy talked reminded him of the way Godric used to talk. In fact, Draco Malfoy even looked slightly like Godric. He snickered at the thought. A Malfoy as the reincarnation of Godric Gryffindor? Malfoys rarely didn't get in Slytherin, and when they were Sorted into a different house, it was always Ravenclaw, not Gryffindor. But besides, he didn't even know if the other founders were getting reincarnated or not. Time to see if Godric got reincarnated.

"Yes," he answered. "Which house do you want to get in the most? I'm not really sure yet. My name's Harry, by the way." There. He could avoid answering the question now. If he said Slytherin and the boy was Godric, it could cause a rift between them and prevent him from getting more information.

"Most of the Malfoys have been in Slytherin," the boy answered. "My parent's want me to get in, but, well, I don't know. Maybe, just maybe, I could go into a house like Gryffindor." Draco's voice gradually got more and more quiet and actually began to whisper towards the end.

Okay. That's it. Harry was going to eat his hat if Draco wasn't Godric's reincarnation.

"Godric," Harry said quietly.

"Wh-what? How'd you know I was Godric?" Draco looked horrified.

Harry blinked innocently, smirking inwardly. "You're Godric? Wow! I didn't know! I just thought you looked a bit like him, since I saw a picture of him before! But. . . h-how're you Godric Gryffindor? I thought he died, like a bajillion years ago. Isn't that basically what the books say?"

"Wh- er, uh, um, well," Draco stammered, trying to think of something. Then his eyes suddenly narrowed. "Salazar," he snarled.