Yeah, about that "I should have the chapter up in about a week" thing…Various things have happened that were really hard to deal with. On top of that, I lost a chapter somewhere in cyberspace. I'm really sorry; thank you everyone who's managed to stick with me through all of this.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

-Parseltongue-

Chapter Two: Asleep Awake

Salazar wanted nothing more than for someone to tell him to come back, that it had been a mistake.

---

They both turned quickly to see a shadowy figure through the bars and a pair of emerald eyes glowing catlike out of the darkness.

"Potter?" Draco asked; disbelief clear in his voice. The person in front of them was covered in shadows but those luminous green eyes and silhouette were unmistakable. But what was Potter doing here? Potter was supposed to be safe; didn't Dumbledore hide him away from when Hogwarts was closed? And being held captive in the Dungeons beneath Malfoy Manor certainly counted as trouble…except Potter was on the other side of the bars; not being held captive at all.

There was a burst of green light and Draco flinched, hissing at the unexpected burning as his back touched the wards of the cell, but the light was no Avada Kedavra. Instead, Potter was now holding a ball of fire the same color as his eyes that was casting flickering green light. Draco shivered; he'd never noticed how closely the color of Potter's eyes matched that of the Killing Curse.

"Who are you?" Snape asked sharply. It was then that Draco started to notice the differences. The man in front of them wore no glasses and looked a little too old to be Potter. Furthermore, despite his casual tone, the Potter lookalike held himself with a fluid grace and confidence that Potter did not possess. The biggest difference of all was that, while his hair could not be considered tame, it was neater (and slightly longer) than Potter's mop of hair and parted in such a way that Draco had a clear view of the man's unblemished forehead.

"You'll have to forgive me for not answering that question," the stranger responded in Potter's voice, leaning casually on the bars separating them, "I haven't survived this long from handing my name out to strangers. You can call me Evan."

"But you're related to Potter?" Draco persisted, even though he knew such a thing was impossible. Potter didn't have any surviving relatives (no close ones, at least) and, anyways, Potter was such a perfect blend of both his parents that Evan couldn't resemble both unless he was Potter's brother, which was beyond unlikely. However, sans an imperfect disguise, the Slytherin simply couldn't think of any other explanations for the eerie resemblance.
"You look familiar," Evan said thoughtfully. And suddenly he was through the bars, in the cell with them. But the wards! Draco's mind gibbered. He remembered the way they had burned his back when he had merely brushed them. And even if the green eyed man could somehow get through the wards, there had been solid bars separating them!

Potter's doppelganger leaned forward and studied Draco's face intently. The emerald flames were inches from Draco's face but rather than giving off heat, the fire seemed to take it away. Draco suddenly became aware that he could see the floor through the hand holding the flames. He wanted to turn and run but there were walls all around him.

"Are you…a Gryffindor?"

"What?" Fear vanished instantly, replaced by indignation.

Draco was not having a good day. Instead of going to sleep like he had intended to do, he had been dragged to a Death Eater meeting by his father. He was apparently supposed to follow in his father's footsteps and become a slave for the so-called Dark Lord. And his initiation was to kill his potions teacher and head of house. When Draco refused, he was thrown into a dirty little cell to be insulted by said head of house. On top of all of that, he had been called a Gryffindor by someone who looked enough like Potter to make it beyond merely insulting. Draco was scared. He was tired. He was beyond fed up with the whole situation.

Draco glared at Evan with as much venom as he could muster, "Of course not! I was sorted into Slytherin! My whole family's been Slytherin for generations!"

"Ah, you're a Hogwarts student, then?" Evan deduced, unfazed. Draco stared in disbelief at Evan, but the man turned and addressed Snape, "And you?"

"I am Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House and Potions Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Snape stated imperiously, watching Evan with wary eyes.

Something odd (like something sharp wrapped in ice) flashed in Evan's eyes,

"I…see." He looked on the verge of asking more but he gave his head a shake and turned back to Draco, "And you're not related to the Gryffindor family at all?"

"No! Are you crazy? They probably died out ages ago!"

This seemed to hit the stranger like a physical blow, "I…see…I had hoped…What of the Hufflepuffs?"

"Nobody has heard anything from the Founders' families since the Founders themselves died!" Draco snapped and almost regretted it when something cold filled Evan's face. It was loss and triumph and loneliness all tangled up, and for a second Draco was sure that Evan must be insane. Surely nobody could feel that much that intensely without becoming insane.

The moment passed. Emerald eyes dulled as Evan's face became completely devoid of expression. His body language mirrored his face, the previously confident stance shifting slightly as he quickly but efficiently locked away all traces of emotion. Draco noticed with some alarm that he could now see his Professor quite clearly through Evan, despite not being able to before in the dim light. The flame itself was flickering erratically and Draco was afraid it would go out, leaving them once again in near darkness.

Evan turned and wandered away, dazed, ignoring Draco's shouts of protest. Frustrated, Draco pounded on the bars that Evan had passed through (twice!) and shouted at the rapidly disappearing ball of green flames,

"Come on! You can't leave us here! Evan! Hey! At least tell someone we're here! Evan!"

The ball of flames stopped, hovered, and then (much to Draco's relief) returned to the cell that he was trapped in.

"I couldn't help but notice that you're in trouble," From the other side of the bars, Evan grinned at them but the smile didn't reach his eyes. It was, sad and horrible and Draco fought the urge to look away, "Since we share a friend in common, I suppose it's only polite to help you out." He studied the cage carefully and moved to tap the lock, grimacing when his hand went right through it.

After a long silence, Evan finally announced,

"There isn't a lot I can do like this. Unless…You said you're Slytherin Head?" He asked Snape, not for confirmation before moving on, "Been to Slytherin Manor yet? I can't get you into Hogwarts directly but maybe…"

"You can get us out of here?" Draco asked, hope blossoming in his chest. He hardly dared believe it; he hadn't really thought that Evan could do more than deliver a message to Dumbledore. The thought of asking the old man for help had rankled but it had been better than dying. Now, though…

"Simultaneous possession is not going to be fun," Evan muttered.

Snape went very still,

"Excuse me?"

But Evan had grabbed them both by the shoulder. Before Draco could object, there was a terrible pushing. The pressure in his head was so bad that he couldn't see, he couldn't even think. He thought someone said something ("Stop fighting me, idiot!") but he couldn't hear, his magic was swirling around him, violent as a hurricane…

When Draco finally came to his senses several minutes later, they were in an unfamiliar house. Fighting nausea, he took in his surroundings long enough to see Snape's crumpled figure a few feet away. Evan was nowhere to be seen. He passed out.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Harry Potter was having a very strange summer.

For over a month, he had drifted in a haze of grief and guilt, hardly noticing when he was transferred from Hogwarts to Number Four Privet Drive. Thanks to Moody's warning, the Dursleys hadn't forced him to do any chores or even threatened him once. Instead of behaving kindly towards him (Harry was pretty sure it was physically impossible for them, after years of abuse) they had taken to pretending he didn't exist. They weren't altogether convincing, the way that they kept glaring at him when they thought he couldn't see, their postures tense with anger whenever Harry was in the same room.

It was Dudley's reaction, rather than the ill-concealed anger of his parents, that confused Harry. Dudley had taken to fleeing the room like a startled rabbit whenever he saw his cousin and Harry hadn't the faintest idea of what had caused the extreme change. The Harry of a summer ago would have delighted in chasing Dudley around the house but the current Harry, tired and apathetic, had taken to avoiding Dudley instead.

The Dursleys' uncharacteristic behavior had no impact on Harry's mood, except maybe causing him to withdraw further into himself without the usual chores to distract him from reality. However, about a week before his birthday, Harry managed to pull himself out of his depression. Sirius, only the latest in the too-long list of people who had died for him, still haunted his dreams, but the pain wasn't so sharp any more. He wasn't quite sure how he did it, and he didn't think he could do it again. All Harry knew was that sitting around and doing nothing wasn't getting him any closer to killing Voldemort…or Bellatrix Lestrange. Maybe it was his inner Slytherin, but Harry thought that the ugly lust for revenge was something that Gryffindors shared with their rival house.

Armed with a new purpose, Harry tore through his old schoolbooks, looking for any spell that would give him the slightest advantage. Before, all Harry had done was evade Voldemort's traps; now the Gryffindor knew that he had to be the one to defeat Voldemort once and for all. He also knew that it was an impossible task, with only five years of school books and no chances to practice spells until Hogwarts started again. Twice, he had tried to sneak off to Diagon Alley only to be caught and returned to the Dursleys by the Order member guarding him. Beginning to feel desperate, the Gryffindor had sent Hedwig to both Hermione and Flourish and Blotts several times but had received no reply. There had been no mail at all since he left Hogwarts, and Harry was sure that Dumbledore was responsible once again.

Finally, Harry's birthday had arrived and he had stayed up for the first few hours of it, waiting for some sign that the magical world hadn't abandoned him. There was nothing. Disappointed, Harry had slipped into a fitful sleep around three o'clock in the morning.

So why was he standing in the Weasley house? He was pretty sure that he wasn't asleep, even if his last thing he remembered was falling asleep. Neither did he believe that he had learned to Apparate in his sleep. The only other option that he could think of was kidnapping, though it was a pretty stupid kidnapper that left him with the Weasleys. Unless the Order had finally decided to pick him up from the Dursleys…

From somewhere above him, he could hear the muffled sounds of Ron and Hermione arguing. Grinning from ear to ear (whether or not they realized it, Harry's friends fought like and old married couple), Harry bounded up the stairs towards the noise.

"Ron! Hermione!" The arguing didn't stop, but they probably couldn't hear him over their own voices.

"When has Harry ever listened to the rules?" Ron was saying heatedly, "Hedwig will probably go back to him sooner or later and then he'd probably try and owl Neville or someone and get them both in trouble. And us too."

Harry stopped short, trying to understand what he had just heard. Ron didn't really think that of him, could he? But then again, Harry had been trying to send letters to people all week. The growing thread of guilt was replaced by anger as events unfolded.

Even as Harry was creeping closer, now trying to make as little noise as possible, Ron was busy convincing Hermione that the small cage that he had apparently gotten from Dumbledore was necessary. Harry could now see Ron, through a slightly ajar door, trying in vain to grab Hedwig off of a tall bookshelf. Ginny was standing by the door, looking on at the scene with almost as much horror reflected in her eyes as Harry was sure must have been in his own.

Was this even real? Perhaps he had been kidnapped by Voldemort after all and this was a complex illusion. Or maybe he really was dreaming. But somehow he was sure that this was no illusion or dream.

Hermione stepped into his field of view,

"Honestly, Ron, you're never going to get her if all you do is jump at her. Stupefy!" Hedwig crashed to the ground.

Harry saw red. He shouted at Ron and Hermione but they didn't seem to hear him. He started forward, still shouting, when he realized that the youngest Weasley was curled up in a ball by his feet, hands clapped tight over her ears and eyes squeezed shut.

"Ginny!" Harry reached for her but she only seemed to become more pained. His hand caught her shoulder but after only a brief pause continued to move right through it. Harry stared at his hand, half of which was inside Ginny's shoulder. Bewildered and more than a bit scared, Harry backed up a few steps. Should he somehow get help? Ron and Hermione hadn't even noticed yet. Could anybody even hear him? But before he could decide, suddenly Ginny seemed fine, if a bit pale. She sat up and pulled her hands off of her ears, blinking in confusion.

Ron and Hermione were still talking but Harry didn't want to hear any more. He backed up a few more steps and when he turned around he was somewhere else.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Salazar leaned against a wall and took several deep breaths. Transporting both the student and the teacher to safety had taken a lot out of him; he was fading even faster than he had been before. There were a few minutes still before he disappeared altogether and woke up. He needed to think; the student's word still disturbed him.

"Nobody has heard anything from the Founder's families since the Founders themselves died!"

Like all of the other Slytherin traits, dreamcasting was something filled with enough hidden catches and dangers to rival the benefits, but Salazar had never hated these disadvantages as much as he did now. Dreamcasting could be used to visit the real world or even other people's dreams while the dreamcaster was asleep. Most of its advantages lay in the potential for spying; though you couldn't touch anything physical while dream casting, you also weren't seen if you didn't want to be. The problem with dreamcasting was that it relied entirely on chance, which was maddening for any Slytherin. A magically-mature Slytherin could find themselves dreamcasting without intending to or merely dreaming when they tried to dreamcast. And if they dreamcast unintentionally, they risked appearing not as they were, but as they had been in the past. And anyone dream casting with a child's appearance and mind was all too easy prey to those things that lurked in dreams.

In that respect, it wasn't that bad. Salazar wasn't a child; he was fairly sure that he could handle whatever came his way this particular night. He wasn't planning to stay that long, after all. A dreamcaster would wake up once experiencing enough shock or fear, it was one of the few safety measures that a dreamcaster had. What he wanted to know (no, needed to know) before he allowed himself to wake up was: what had happened? His last memory was of being stabbed. Obviously, he hadn't died, since his present self was dreamcasting.

Had Godric stabbed him? Ten feet. There had been ten feet between them. There had been people between them as well; Godric wouldn't have had a clear shot. And even if there was a miraculous gap in the crowd, the Gryffindor wouldn't have risked it in the middle of so many innocents. Perhaps Godric had had an accomplice? He had seemed so surprised when Salazar collapsed.

Despite all that had happened, Salazar wanted to believe in the man that had once been his best friend.

But the boy in the cell had claimed that all of the Founders were dead. Salazar wasn't surprised to be alive despite this; he often survived things that others thought had killed him. Godric, he thought, had already used up all of his luck in that area already. And what of Rowena? Of Helga and her large family? If they were alive, it was impossible that a student at Hogwarts would be unaware of it.

They must be gone, Salazar realized, and was almost surprised to feel the sharp pang of loss. The other Founders had all betrayed him. They had banished him from the school they had all built together. They had believed all sorts of horrible things about him; he had been wrong to trust them in the first place. And Hogwarts had moved on without him, Slytherin House had a new Head.

And speaking of that Severus Snape and the Slytherin student that he had with him…They were completely unfamiliar to him. However, his present self must have known them; he had appeared right in front of them. Dreamcasters tended to orient themselves with the familiar, so he must have had a strong connection to one or both of them. The blond reminded him so much of Godric that it hurt…

Angry at himself along with the other Founders, and still just as confused as he had been before, Salazar faded away completely.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Harry was surprised to find that he was not in the Burrow any more. Now he was standing in the doorway of a completely unfamiliar room. It was a bedroom, filled with the sort of homey clutter that dominated the Weasley house. And Luna Lovegood stood by the window. He started to say something, but stopped when he realized that she wouldn't be able to hear him.

She turned and looked directly at him,

"Hello, Harry. What an interesting dream."

"This isn't a dream!" Harry blurted, panicked. Calming himself marginally, he continued, "Luna, listen to me. I think Voldemort must have done something! Nobody can see me; you have to tell Dumbledore…" Surely Dumbledore would be able help…But Harry had lost faith in Dumbledore's omnipotence the night that Sirius had died. What could Dumbledore really do?

Luna looked at him blankly,

"Why don't you just…" she made a twirling motion with her hand, and Harry noticed that she was holding a pair of dice, "go home?"

"I don't know how!" Doubt was starting to replace relief. Could Luna really help him? Could Dumbledore? Or would he, perhaps, think that Harry ought to help himself. Maybe this was some kind of test.

"Oh, that's simple then," Luna laughed.

"You know to get me home?" Harry asked, heart soaring with hope.

"Of course. All you have to do is wake up," Luna pushed him and he stumbled into a wall…only the wall wasn't there any more…he was falling from a great height…the ground rushed towards him…

Harry woke up.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

He was back at Number Four Privet Drive. Staring at the ceiling, Harry wondered if he were still dreaming. He didn't think so but he hadn't believed it even when he was dreaming. That dream had been so vivid, almost not a dream at all. What if it hadn't been a dream? At least, not entirely. But then what had it been? Harry sat up but was struck with a sudden wave of dizziness -

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Salazar woke up.

He was in an unfamiliar room. Worse, he had no more memories than he had had before he woke up. That didn't make sense…Had he dreamcasted just after he'd been stabbed? But there had been a difference in time…He stood up cautiously -

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Harry woke up and blinked when he found himself standing. What had he been doing? Of course, he had needed to tell someone about the dream. He ruffled through his desk for a bit of parchment but hesitated. Who should he tell? Dumbledore was -

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Salazar woke up. Why was he on the floor? He must have fallen down but he had no recollection of falling. He was holding a piece of parchment and a quill but why -

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Harry woke up -

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Salazar woke up -

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Harry woke up and quickly rolled on his side so that he didn't vomit all over himself. He had a splitting headache, but it wasn't coming from his scar. There had been something important; why couldn't he remember? It had something to do with that strange dream…

Shaking his head, Harry stood up. He had to clear up the mess before Aunt Petunia found out. He was quite sure that the Dursleys' new policy of ignoring him couldn't survive his Aunt finding vomit on her nice, clean floor. Even if that floor happened to be in Harry's room.

When the mess was finally gone, Harry went back to his bed and fell asleep.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Somewhere, something had gone wrong.

Salazar had been happy. For five years, everything had been perfect, only to collapse in a matter of months. Salazar was being hunted in his sleep and during the day he was constantly tired. People were on edge, full of suspicion and fear. Friendly rivalries had turned vicious. Violence broke out in the halls on a daily basis. Hogwarts seemed on the brink of collapse.

The attack on Hogsmeade had been the catalyst. It had shaken Salazar, at least, and nothing had been quite the same since. It hadn't been the parseltongue; they all knew he was a Slytherin, they would have been fools to assume that he couldn't use the snake language. It hadn't been the fight; all of the Founders had fought off the invaders with about the same harshness. They had all killed before. But something had changed.

Everything had changed.

Salazar wasn't sure how much he trusted the other Founders any more. Worse, he knew that they didn't trust him. Over the past few months, they had accused him of progressively horrible things.

So when Salazar got a summons to the Great Hall, he didn't know what to think. It was too formal, for one. But at least something was finally happening. Salazar was sick of sitting around and waiting for something to happen while tensions continued to rise. Still, he couldn't help feeling apprehensive.

A glance at his gently bubbling potion told him that it wouldn't be done for a while yet. Still, better safe than sorry. It was a simple healing potion for Helga; she was still mad at Salazar because of his most recent fight with Godric and he hoped that it would help, though it seemed unlikely. In the past few months, Salazar had tried various things to appease the other Founders but nothing had worked. After a quick mental review of the potion, the Slytherin tossed a pinch of powdered flitterbloom into the potion and adjusted the temperature of the fire. Satisfied that everything would be fine without him, Salazar left the dungeons in the direction of the Great Hall.

As soon as he entered the room, he knew something was wrong. Helga was crying but calmed herself as Salazar approached. Godric wore the same expression that he had worn when Salazar had seen him kill a man; hard with resolve, yet with an undertone of grief. Rowena looked ill, but this was nothing new; she had been suffering from severe headaches for months now. The four of them were standing at the front of the Great Hall in formal robes.

"Salazar Slytherin," Godric started solemnly, "You are hereby banished from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for corrupting the school from within, spreading the Dark Arts, and attacking four students."

"What? That's not true!" Salazar shouted, outraged. He'd known that tensions between the Founders were bad, but not so bad that they thought him capable of hurting students, "Godric, you know that I'm telling the truth!" Godric was a Gryffindor, of course he could tell. This must be some horrible mistake.

Godric seemed to hesitate, but he continued,

"You and your belongings must be gone from school grounds by sunrise."

"Wait a minute! Godric, I've never attacked a student! What do you mean, 'corrupted'? I've done nothing of the sort! Listen to me, damn it!" When the Gryffindor said nothing, Salazar turned to the other Founders, "Helga, Rowena…I haven't done anything. I've never had anything but good intentions towards Hogwarts. Why are you doing this?" Helga started crying again. Rowena stared at him with a frown and swayed dangerously until a student from the growing crowd fetched her a chair to sit in.

Godric's face hardened,

"My word is final, Slytherin."

Salazar opened his mouth to argue but closed it. He wasn't going to beg, and even that wouldn't change the Gryffindor's mind. Salazar had seen this side of Godric before, he had just never expected it to be turned on him.

"I'll just be on my way then," Salazar said with as much bite as he could muster, which wasn't much. He was almost proud that his voice hadn't wavered. How had this happened? Even before this betrayal, how had he allowed himself to get so close to these people? Angrily, he turned and left.

The door slamming shut behind him gave Salazar no satisfaction.

Back in his potions room (how had he gotten there? He must have walked, but he had no recollection of it) Salazar collapsed onto a chair, staring at the still-bubbling potion. What now? He had until midnight to (beg for forgiveness, plan revenge, force the other Founders to allow him to stay)…do nothing. Even if he was allowed back now, there would be no meaning to it. Whatever trust in them Salazar had was broken. And any form of revenge would hurt the students.

Salazar kicked over the cauldron, splashing scalding potion all over the floor.

There was nothing he could do. All he could to in his remaining hours at Hogwarts was pack his belongings. What he couldn't manage to remove in that amount of time would have to stay.

He went to the shelves of potions ingredients and began to pack.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Hopefully I've given you all at least as much information as I've confused you in this chapter. Cross your fingers and maybe I'll see you soon! Thanks for reading!