Author's Note: Thanks to my beautiful team for their patience and help.

Written for...

Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. Team/Position: Holyhead Harpies, Seeker. Task: Write about the relationship between a ghost and human.

Hogwarts Assignment #3. Lesson: Criminology, task 3. Task: Write about uncovering someone's grave, for whatever reason.

Hidden Treasure

1,151 words

"Are you sure about this, Ms Weasley? This house is a lot for one person to take on."

Molly smiled at grand Victorian house. It was run down and in dire need of repair, but she just couldn't turn it down.

"I'm sure. It's perfect."

The real estate agent gave the house one last wary glance before presenting Molly with the papers to sign. "Then it's all yours. Good luck."

:-:

There was more to do than Molly had initially thought. The roof leaked, the entire third floor was unsafe, and she was sure some animal had made a home in the kitchen.

Regardless of its faults, Molly loved it. Her father had warned her that it was a waste of time and money, but it was all hers and that was all that mattered.

With a few cleaning charms, she managed to make the first floor livable and set up the table and makeshift bed in the living room until she could get the rest of the house in order.

"I don't know why everyone was so worried about this place," she told Lucy when her sister came to visit the next morning. "It's a little creaky, but there's nothing a few spells won't fix."

"Didn't you say it's haunted?"

Molly rolled her eyes. "There are some rumors, yes. But that's all Muggle superstition. We went to a haunted school, Lu. I'm not afraid of ghosts."

:-:

The weather became overwhelmingly warm just a few days into the renovations and Molly decided it was too hot to stay indoors all day, so she took to the expansive garden to tackle the overgrown weeds and vines.

The stone wall at the very back of the garden hadn't been visible before her work, and Molly was fairly sure it hadn't been uncovered for years. She took interest in the unusual stones, each one with a rune carved into it.

"You're not supposed to be here," she muttered, resting a hand against one symbol she recognized as being used for protective wards. It was old magic and not something she expected to see in a Muggle garden.

"And where else would you expect a rune of that nature to be, but on the gate of one's home?"

Molly startled at the unfamiliar voice and stumbled into the high wall. Turning towards the house, wand outstretched, she found the apparition of a man standing behind her. There was no question that he had once been a wizard. He wore long, dark, plain robes that didn't help to narrow down the time of his death. He stared at her with a stony expression, seemingly unimpressed by having a wand pointed at him.

"Surely if you are smart enough to recognize a rune as old as that, you should be able to understand that your incantations will do nothing to a spirit such as myself."

Molly lowered her wand, studying her visitor's translucent features. He was handsome, with dark hair framing his long face. He looked familiar but she couldn't imagine why. The only ghosts she had been in contact with were at school, and she'd never paid them much attention.

"What are you doing here?" she wondered. Ghosts rarely travelled far from where they died or lived.

"I live here, girl. Or should I say lived. I understand you are now residing here."

"I am." Molly resisted holding out a hand to shake before she embarrassed herself. "I'm Molly. And you must be the one who's been scaring away all the Muggles from this house."

"Clever girl. A Slytherin, no doubt."

"I was a Ravenclaw, actually. But what does that-" She paused, taking in the stranger again, and suddenly it all clicked. She'd seen his likeness in her textbooks. "You. You're Salazar Slytherin, aren't you?"

The corner of his mouth lifted up into a half-smile. "It's been several centuries since I've been called by my name. Yes, I am Salazar."

"You're not here to scare me off, are you?"

"Would that work, by chance?"

Molly shook her head. "I don't scare easily, and I really love this house. I'd hate to have to leave it."

"I only revealed myself to you because of your magic. Ordinarily I would have begun the haunting on the first night."

"Well, I appreciate your holding off." Molly looked down at the remaining briars she had yet to remove from the path. "Do you have a problem with me fixing up the house a bit?"

Salazar looked back at the decrepit house and sneered. "The house is of little concern to me. It was built after my time. My home had long since turned to rubble. My only request is that you care for my grave."

"Your what?"

"My grave, girl. My favorite apprentice went to the trouble of burying my body here, in my garden, and fashioned me a magnificent stone to mark the site. It's not ten feet to your left at this moment."

Molly looked at the spot where the ghost pointed and could just see the tip of an obsidian stone peeking out from underneath a heap of vines and twigs.

"I'll get it cleaned up," she promised.

:-:

It took two months before the renovations were complete, and Molly couldn't have been happier when it was all done and she could relax in her garden amongst the flowers and obsidian spire that marked the grave of her roommate.

Though she had initially bought the house to have a place of her own, finding Salazar had been a blessing. She found herself missing the noise and movement of living with people, and Salazar, she quickly learned, was exceedingly lonely after centuries of scaring away any potential tenants.

Their arrangements had been rocky at first, because Salazar had no concept of time and had a habit of floating in at the most awkward moments, like when Molly was getting out of the shower, or in the middle of the night. And Molly loved to have her family over for visits, but didn't want to spook them with her ghostly new friend.

Their compromise had been the third floor - now Salazar's rooms - where he was allowed to roam freely, and a grandfather clock that kept him aware of acceptable times to bother Molly.

And in the end Molly was grateful for her unexpected roommate, despite her initial hesitation. Salazar was wise and talented and insightful, nothing like the history books said. He didn't even flinch when Molly told him that her mum was a Muggleborn, and it was around that time that she thought up her next project.

It was her turn to run to him at three in the morning, her arms full with parchment and inkwells, grinning like an idiot.

"What are you up to, little bird?" he wondered, using his pet name for her.

"I'm going to set the record straight about you. Let me write your biography."