Title:Greatest of the Hogwarts Four'
Author: Saddest Sadist
Pairings: None Yet
Warnings: Language, violence, and all that good stuff.
Disclaimer: I hereby lay no claims upon any original Harry Potter characters/plots.

Summary: AU Harry Potter have always had two sets of memories, one as Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and one more, as Salazar Slytherin, the Greatest of Hogwarts' Four. What will happen, when this reincarnation of a Founder returns to Hogwarts?


Chapter One: Dudley's Birthday

Mornings are the worst, Harry Potter blatantly decided as the sharp rap of knuckles on wood started to sound – the knuckles of his so-called Aunt Petunia, on the wooden door of the cupboard that served as his bedroom for the past eleven years. He winced as her sharp shriek decided to accompany that rap.

"Wake up! Boy, now!" Came the command, from her thin, long lips that made her look so much like a horse. Her voice didn't help either, being so high-pitched, and shrill.

"Coming, coming…" His own reply was muffled to the world outside the cupboard, no doubt thanks to the wood surrounding him. But even muffled, he sounded tired, at the least. Blind as a bat, the boy pulled on an extremely over-sized shirt, pants with the same unsightly attribute, and groped around blindly for a pair of socks. When he found a pair, that was still a pair, he pulled them on.

Mornings are definitely the worst. His sigh was dejected, as he pushed open the cupboard door. He crawled out, and nimbly stood.

For a moment, he stood, in unmoving, and wincing, as the bright sunlight flooded into his vision. The brightness hurts, for he had just spent what felt like a decade in the darkness of his cupboard.

Silently, Aunt Petunia handed him his pair of cracked, broken glasses. Harry heaved another sigh. Stupid muggles and their magic-phobia. Had his Aunt and his Uncle not have such an extreme fear of anything unnatural, he would have fixed the glasses long before now! Just a simple wave of his hand and a little concentration would do!

Or maybe not… magic reservoirs do need time to develop. There is a reason why young wizards and witches only start their studies at eleven years of age.

His sigh, however, was misinterpreted by his Aunt, and earned him a sharp glare, and another onslaught on instructions. "Cook the breakfast! I want everything as perfect as possible for my little Dudders on his special day! And don't you dare spill anything on his presents!"

Harry slowly made his way to the kitchen, and set upon his work. Oh! How Helga Hufflepuff would have liked to see him right now! The great Salazar Slytherin! The King of Serpents, and the Master of Poisons, cooking! And dear Lady Rowena Ravenclaw, would tease him about non-stop of his short stature. And Godric Gryffindor, would laugh heartily about his attire. It felt like yesterday that they started the school…

The school… He wonders what happened to it? If he could, he would have left this house long before now, seeking his school. And yet, Old Magic kept him back – the Magick Of Merlin – with a shield of Love. Magic so old that even he could not defy.

A small, wistful grin crept, unknowingly, onto the sharp face of Harry Potter. Harry Potter, who was, in another lifetime, the great Salazar Slytherin. Harry Potter, who knew all that Salazar knew, and can do all that Salazar can do – he who is Salazar.

Reincarnations are strange, even in the Wizarding world. Back in his time – no, back in Salazar's time, for he is Harry now – there were only legends of a handful of people who had been reincarnated. People who died tragic deaths in their first life, and were granted another chance at life, or people who committed grave sins, and were granted another chance of atonement.

How did he die, anyways? He could not remember… anything pass the creation of the Chamber in the castle. His Chamber of Secrets.

As the bacons sat on the stove to fry, and a mountain of pancakes, with butter and syrup set at the side found their place on the tabletop, footsteps thundered down the stairs and into the kitchen. Two sets of footsteps, in fact. The two men, if you could call them men and not pigs, entered with heaving pants, and both collapsed onto the chairs. Their panting breaths broke Harry out of his wistful thoughts.

Harry flipped the bacons, and started working on the eggs, ignoring the way the younger of the two was looking at him. Dudley Dursley, his older cousin by two months, shot him a look of undeniable lust, before turning back to count his presents. Harry shuddered. There was no doubt that Harry Potter is an attractive young man, despite his short stature. He was petite, mostly due to malnutrition, and yet was fit, and still had more muscles than fat, thanks to morning workouts before everyone else awakes. He had pale, milky skin, beautiful emerald eyes, a sharp nose, a sharp face, and strawberry-red mouth. His messy, uncontrollable hair, was left to grow long, as with old wizarding traditions, and tied at the back with a black band. He had bangs, long ones, at the sides of his face, and his lightning-shaped scar was left out for the whole world to see. His relatives had tried to pass the scar off as a souvenir of a car accident, but Harry knew better. It reeked of Dark Magic.

Flipping the bacons one last time, Harry poured the egg batter into another pan to fry. Aunt Petunia chose that moment to bristle in, just as Dudley finished counting his pile of presents. As he gathered the bacons into a plate, Aunt Petunia planted a small peck of a kiss on Uncle Vernon's cheeks. How anyone could bring themselves to kiss that pig was beyond Harry's wildest imaginations! Vernon was a pig of a man – blond hair, blond moustache, red-faced, doubled chinned, huge cheeks, smelly, and pot-bellied! And Dudley was turning out to be a little Vernon! But then, Petunia was just as extreme as Vernon is. She was thin, tall, long-necked, dark-haired, and very, very, horse-like.

"Mom! There's only 34 presents!" Dudley. Spoiled pig extraordinaire. Harry was surprised that he could even count to 10, with the use to his fingers!

"Sweetie, there's one more, you see; from Auntie Marge; under the big one from Mama!"

"B…but that's still less that last year! I got 37 presents!"

Harry snorted.

Sensing an outburst of tears – fake tears, Petunia quickly amended the situation, while throwing Harry a dirty look. "Darling, when we go out today, we'll buy you three more presents. How's that? Three more presents?"

"Oh… so I'll have… I'll have… um…" Dudley looked at his fingers expectantly.

"38 presents, Dudders; 38"


Harry brought the eggs, and the bacon to the table, just in time to see Uncle Vernon put down his newspaper, and look at 'his little angel' appraisingly.

"Good boy! You'd be wanting your money's worth, eh? Just like your old man, eh?"

And Dudley started ripping open his present boxes.

Harry made his way up the stairs, towards the washroom, to stuff in a quick shower before he had to come down to clean up the mess. And as he locked the door, came the ringing of the phone.

As Harry made his way down the stairs, his hair damp, and skin cleanly scrubbed, he could already hear the sniffling of Dudley, and the arguing voices of his relatives. But as he entered the kitchen, the argument ceased.

His uncle moved towards him, in what he deemed to be a menacing manner, and threw Harry an evil eye.

"You, boy." He even sounds piggish! With his grunts! "Figg broke her leg. You're coming with us. And. Don't. You. Dare. Try. Anything. Freakish." The last bit ended as a hiss.

Harry hid another sigh – he had looked forward to a day without these bothersome muggles, and look where fate brought him? But he nodded, nevertheless.

And so Harry Potter found himself stuffed in between Dudley, his best friend, and his parents in the car as they made their way to the zoo. The trip was uneventful, to say the least. To Harry, it was downright boring.

Until they got to the reptile house.

Harry stayed at the back of the group, as usual, his eyes drinking in the sights around him. Reptile houses are almost unbearable. Those serpents' speech seemed so strained, and their states pitiable. All lacked the vigor of wilderness. He made himself scarce, offering little words of comfort to his name-beasts. Sometimes the serpents will hear, and pause to look at him. More often than not, he was ignored.

And than the glass wall that trapped the serpents disappeared.

No. Harry Potter did not do it. It was a case of underage magic, yes. But Harry, being Salazar, had taken measures to ensure that he causes no accidental magic – by meditating.

Nevertheless, the zoo was plunged into chaos. With snakes and serpents all over the place, some dangerous, some poisonous, there was no way for the zoo to function!

Vernon and Petunia, of course, looked at him with accusing eyes. They believed him to be the cause of this… incident. So when they went home that day, it was straight into the cupboard with Harry Potter. And no matter how much he argued, saying he was innocent, they didn't believe him. They never did, so why start now?