Warnings: Snarry, RapidlyAging!Harry, Slytherin!Harry, Reborn!Heirs, Slightly Spoiled!Harry, Abusive!Dursleys, Semi-Manpulative!Dumbledore, death, violence, cursing. Yaoi, yuri and het relationships.

The main characters in this story – Harry and Severus – will be involved in a homosexual relationship. They will most likely not be the only ones as I have yaoi, yuri and het pairings planned. However, no romance (including the Snarry) will take place with characters under the age of seventeen. You've been warned – flamers on the gay aspect will be mocked for their inability to read warnings and/or poor decision making skills.

Love,

Rhiw

I didn't make the Cover Art, found it a long time ago. If anyone knows said artist, let me know so I can give credit please.

In my memory awakening,
Like a dream too sweet to cast away
Shadows of the past begin to sing
Calling out to me in their gallant way

- By The Sword, Emilie Autumn

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 1

Shadows of the Past

May 29th, 1993 CE

Chamber of Secrets, Hogwarts, Scotland

It felt like something was eating his arm from the inside. He grit his teeth against the pain, trying desperately to focus. The flesh around the new hole in his right arm was turning black and he could feel the raised skin around it. Like a burn instead of a bite. Harry could swear he could hear it sizzling. In front of him, Ginny was still talking. Harry forced himself to pay attention to his words. He stared at her lips as they moved, as if he stared hard enough he could hear them. He gave her a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry about it, Ginny. You have to get out. Follow the chamber, Ron's-" He tumbled over, blinking in surprise as Ginny half caught – half fell with him. Everything was turning remarkably black remarkably fast. There was another scream but Ginny's mouth wasn't moving.

He could barely see the deep scarlet red of Fawkes head as the familiar swooped down into his vision. He could feel the bird's pain as it stared down at him. Was the phoenix mourning for him? He couldn't help but feel touched by that fact. Ginny was still talking - screaming maybe - Harry couldn't be sure anymore now that he couldn't see her lips. The pain in his arm was lessening. Harry assumed that meant he was about to die.

Suddenly he felt like apologizing. He felt bad about abandoning poor Ginny to her own devices down here. God knows Ron probably wouldn't be much help. Harry had wanted to do something great – but then again he had killed a basilisk as a second year. That was pretty good. Still. Looks like it couldn't be helped though. He let out a sigh as the pain disappeared from his arm completely and let himself go to the darkness.

December 22, 993 CE

Gawain Keep, North Wales

15th year of the Reign of the Muggle King Æthelred II of England

10th year of the Reign of the Muggle Emperor Otto III of the Holy Roman Emperor

13th year of the Reign of the Muggle Konug Vladimir the Great of Kievan Rus (Russia)

190th year of the Reign of the Wizard King Alfred von Runescot

Lukian Salazarovich Slytherin snorted as he watched the flicker of annoyance flash yet again across his dearest friend's face. Not that the banshee of a woman he was speaking with would see it. The young Wizard Prince was too well trained in his arts. But Luka could see easily past his friend's visage. Boredom was eating his liege alive.

Though he had been born in the marshlands of Kievan Rus, Lukian had spent most of his twenty two years in the great fortress that was the Gawain Keep. He didn't mind it much. Wales was quite pleasant and it allowed him to be close to his father and elder brother, Mikhail, who were both at the Great School Hogwarts. He ached, even now, to attend Hogwarts with his brother. Since his father had founded it, Luka had begged to be a one of its alumni. But it was not to be. Luka's place was here, as it had been since his third naming day, ensuring the peace between the ever shifting Dukedom of Kiev and the High King of the Wizarding World.

He could still remember the day he had been brought to the Keep, trembling as he clutched at his mother's hands, incapable of imagining that it would mostly likely be the last time he did so. But then the High Prince had come bounding across the main hall, clad in the red and gold of his father's house and offered him a brilliant smile.

'Luka!'

Hearing the affectionate form of his name slide with such friendship from the those cheerful lips had made Luka's heart warm something fiercely and as the young Prince took his hands and pressed them to rosy cheeks, his fears had left had been the first he had ever seen of Sigerd Gryffindor von Runescot. They were birthmates, a bond that would tie them together for the entirety of their life span. Never before had two sons of the great houses been born so closely together.

Though he had been brought here as a hostage to ensure that his father and kin behaved in Kievan Rus, Luka's childhood had been nothing but pleasant. He had met Leif, Sig's Knight and then shortly afterwards the English raised Vanya, his own Knight. Within a month the four of them had been inseparable. And though Luka missed his mother dearly and had yet to see the younger sister he apparently had, he would trade nothing – not even a year at Hogwarts – if it meant leaving his brothers' side.

Sigerd caught his eye and allowed the bright smile that was a fixture on his face to droop slightly. Come save me, his eyes seemed to beg. Luka raised his goblet in a cheeky salute before pointedly looking away. If anyone had the right to be irritated, it was Luka. He allowed his eyes to fall once again on the tall, proud figure of his father. Salazar Slytherin had yet to greet his youngest son. He sat at the high table, Mikhail standing at attention behind him, deep in conversation with both Godric Gryffindor and the High King Alfred.

Normally by now he would have been at least invited up to exchange pleasantries. Luka rarely had the chance to see his father. As a House Head and a Professor among the various other professions he had, Salazar's time was worth more then what Luka could offer him. But still he usually made time for a greeting, regardless of how short it may be.

For a moment, Luka just allowed himself to observe his father. Salazar was bent over, his brows tight in displeasure as he nodded at whatever the aged King was saying. Duke Godric had a stern frown on his face that Luka knew from years of experience meant that he was greatly concerned. They had every right to be concerned. The Muggle King Æthelred the Second, rather accurately called Æthelred the Unready, was allowing the Danish to ravish the English coast in a rather amazing display of stupidity.

Things had been strained between the Muggle and Wizarding world since Æthelred had killed his half-brother Edward and taken the throne. Unlike Edward, who was more then willing to coexist with Wizards, Æthelred was rather…aggressive in his handling of King Alfred. Especially lately. It was not unforeseeable that war may break out between the two. His father in particular was becoming more and more disenchanted with the Muggles.

Still.

The feast was well into the morning hours and his father had hardly looked his way. Luka should be placated by the fact that Sig had yet to have been called to the high table as well, but the almost sickeningly close relationship the Prince had with both his father and grandfather, Alfred, deterred most of it. And then there was the looks Mikhail was giving him. Even from across the hall, Luka could see the narrowed set of his elder brother's eyes. He knew his brother well, despite the rare visits and the infrequent correspondence. He knew of his brother's reputation as a cruel, demanding man but to Luka Mikhail had always been Misha, the doting brother.

So why could he feel Mikhail's gaze like a weight on his chest?

Mouth suddenly dry, Luka waved for a page to refill his goblet. The older boy did so quickly, smirking mischievously at him as he did. Luka hardly gave the attractive boy a second glance. If it was possible, he was considered even more appealing then his Prince, if only because of his unattached status. He was unclaimed, not betrothed and very, very wealthy. Though many hoped for an alliance through marriage with Sigerd, the Prince had been engaged to the Comtesse Edme de Ravenclaw for almost as long as he had been born. Though it was technically not binding – Sig could dismiss it if he felt the need to – it was generally thought the marriage would go through as planned. Luka couldn't see a reason for its abandonment. The combined houses of Gryffindor, von Runescot and Ravenclaw would be a powerful one.

The look his birthmate was sending him now was downright hostile and even Leif, the younger Knight of Gryffindor and another close friend of Luka's, was starting to look tried. He rolled his eyes, leaning over to the slightly drunken blonde by his side.

"Vanya." Ivan Ivanovich Rurikovich, better known as Vanya to distinguish him from the seven other brothers and father who also bore the same name, managed to pull himself from the bosom he'd all but planted himself in enough to see him once more. Tall and incredibly hale for twenty-one, the English born boy had been his protector and retainer for nearly the entirety of their lives. The seventh son of a seventh son and thus with no title, Vanya's superior skills had assured his placement of the youngest Knight of Slytherin.

His elder brother and uncle stood silently behind both Salazar and Mikhail, clad like Vanya in the greens and silvers that marked them as Knights. The Earls of Drake had served in this way for nearly as long as the two families had existed.

"Yes, milord?"

"See if you can not save our dear Prince from that harpy. Perhaps engage Leif in another one of your riveting discussions about how to properly play a game of Hnefatafl."

"Aye." Vanya said cheerfully, shedding the girl at his side as if she was a cloak and strolling over towards the two. Luka tried not to smirk at the expression on the young Dame von Weitburg's face before she stormed off.

Casting another displeased look at the high table Luka stood and made his way through the merry crowd, suddenly finding their rightful enjoyment annoying. The abrupt silence and chill of the outer gardens seemed indeed to be just what he needed and Luka sighed as he leaned against the balcony railing. He stared out over the impressive garden that stretched out below him and the expansive forest behind it. The night wind pricked at him but Luka leaned into it, closing his eyes as he inhaled the frigid smell of winter. What could possibly be bothering his brother? Had he done something to upset Misha? He hoped not. He would readily admit that he very nearly worshiped the ground his older brother walked on. Utterly brilliant from a young age there were little who didn't share the opinion that Mikhail Slytherin was going to become something great. Luka knew he would be devastated if he had done something to lose face with his brother.

But he just couldn't think what it could possibly be.

"Finding the Solstice enjoyable, Lord Slytherin?" Luka whipped his head around to stare at the speaker so fast he felt his neck pop. He swallowed past a suddenly tight throat and nodded before turning around to face the new comer. Earl Cassian Adair was a tall, dark man in every since of the word. To cover his nervousness Luka took a lengthy drink and allowed himself to take in the handsome man over the goblet rim.

Cast in his house colors of black and silver, Cassian cut a striking figure. Several years his senior the Earl was a man of harsh, sharp features that almost made him unattractive yet somehow looked wonderfully exotic all together. The thick, shoulder length hair that the man usually kept in a tight plait lay free and wild tonight. The natural curls it formed were an improvement, if Luka dared say so.

He was Sig's personal tutor, though sometimes he also took over Luka's training if his own tutor was called away. The youngest Slytherin never learned much on those days. He was too busy watching the captivating man. He was blindly in love with the English Earl…if you believed what Vanya had to say. As the said Knight was a complete prat his opinion didn't count. Having drained his cup once more he sent the tutor a brilliant smile.

"Of course, Earl Adair. Yule has always been my favorite of the Sabbats." Luka tried to calm his heart as the Earl joined him at the balcony railing.

"Such formality is not needed, milord. Cassian is all that is required." Luka couldn't help the blush that erupted at those words. Sable eyes were studying him intensely and Luka felt his stomach tighten as a familiar smirk pulled at the older man's lips. "Perhaps you've had too much winter air, milord. You're cheeks are quite flushed."

Was the tutor flirting with him? Oh he dearly hoped so.

"That may be true, Lord Cassian." He felt a little thrill at saying the name allowed. "But I insist that you call me Lukian – or Luka." The smirk widened a touch and Cassian bowed his head in acknowledgement. Luka smiled back, fully intending to see how far the Earl was willing to let the flirting go. "How are you enjoying the feast?"

"The Queen has out done herself this year." Cassian answered softly, his gaze never leaving Luka's face. The younger man felt himself flush even more and dropped his eyes to the floor, suddenly embarrassed by the attention. The silence grew between them and Luka swallowed as the Earl continued his observation. He started comically when a hand found its way underneath his chin, tilting his face back upwards. The Earl's eyes were even darker as he stared down at him and Luka found it suddenly impossible to catch a decent breath.

"What-" His voice was breathless, dying off as Cassian suddenly closed the small distance between them, a callused thumb trailing across his lips. Luka found it nearly impossible to think straight as the digit made its way across his lips once more. He could feel the warmth of the older man's body acutely and shuddered at the desire that it bred in him. He visibly saw Cassian swallow in response to the movement and Luka watched in morbid fascination as the man's iron like control slipped away.

Hands cupped his face as Cassian bent down and covered his lips with his own. Luka couldn't control the little groan he gave at the contact nor the way his body leaned instinctively into the warmth of the older man. He brought his own hands up to clutch at the front Cassian's tunic, goblet forgotten, as the kiss deepened.

Gods, Luka had wanted this for so long! He felt one of the older man's hand tangle itself in the back of his hair, the other curling around his waist and with a yank he was pulled flush against the Earl. Luka shifted willingly, pressing his lips greedily against Cassian's, moaning pitifully when he felt a wet tongue part his lips. The assault left him clinging to the tall form and when the tutor pulled away a moment later, Luka was left staring up at him in hazy awe. The look Cassian gave him was the most emotion he'd ever seen out of the other man and Luka felt his stomach trill strangely at it.

"Do you know how long I have been waiting for you to do that?" Luka asked breathlessly, ignoring the blush those words brought to his face. Cassian's face softened for a moment, the hand on his lower back pressing firmly against him, before shifting into a familiar, lording smirk.

"Forgive me for keeping you waiting, milord." Then those lips were upon his again and Luka closed his eyes in pleasure. This kiss was short, teasing – a nip of the lips and he glared unhappily up at the smirking Earl as he pulled away. He was about to snap tersely at the older man when he froze - a rattled gasp escaping him as he felt a foreboding sense fill him. Luka's head snapped the doorway, only to recoil in horror as he realized his mistake. But the damage was done. Mikhail's eyes were locked with is own. His brother pushed into his mind with the force of a hammer.

Mikhail's rage was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. None of his training could have prepared Luka for it. He ripped through his shields, digging deeper in deeper into his mind. He railed against his brother's presence. But it did nothing. He could hardly think past the betrayal.

Do you want to rut with him, my dear Luka?

His brother's voice was like a knife across his mind.

Does your body crave for him? You pathetic whore.

He forced his thoughts towards his brothers. Misha, what-

Why you? The hiss was loud enough that Luka could have sworn he could hear it echoing in his chest. Why you? What do you have that I do not? I am the eldest! It is my right – my right!

He felt something inside him snap and Luka's body shook with a violent, wet cough. He was vaguely aware of the coppery taste that was suddenly coating his throat and mouth.

Worthless little-

His brother's words were cut off as the link between them was shattered. Luka blinked as he found himself suddenly staring into a set of horrified black eyes. His knees gave out abruptly and strong arms caught him and guided him to the ground. Luka could hear the sudden uproar around them, could see Cassian's wand moving in a flurry above him. But none of it could distract him from the rather uncomfortable feeling of not being able to breathe. He felt like he was drowning in his own blood. Which, Luka realized with a muffled cry, he was.

He heard his father roaring his brother's name in the background and as he titled his head back, he could see bodies falling from inside the hall, flashes of green light accompanying each one. Luka let his head fall against Cassian's arms, staring up at the older man in shock as the screams continued around them. Why was his brother doing this? The darkness around him grew – his vision becoming dimmer and dimmer. He felt his heart slow, managing only a few, sluggish beats. A hand cupped his face and he forced himself to focus on the drawn face above him.

"Luka." Cassian's voice was ragged with emotion, his hands shaking as they ran gently across his face. He knew then that there was nothing to be done – that he was going to die. His heart ached as he heard the Earl repeat his name, grief making the older man choke on it. Luka fought death doggedly, managing somehow to bring a hand up to clasp at Cassian's hand. The Earl's grip was vice-like, as if it alone could keep him from leaving.

Luka smiled weakly up at him, trying to understand what was going on even as his body broke down. He could feel something pulling at him; a demanding, violent feeling and Luka let his eyes drift shut, incapable of denying it anymore. As he felt his soul tugged from his body, he could only think of one thing.

His brother had just killed him and Luka didn't even know why.

Mary 30th, 1993 CE

Chamber of Secrets, Hogwarts, Scotland

Someone was screaming his name rather annoyingly loud. Hysterically actually.

"Harry!"

Wait. That wasn't his name. Was it? He groaned and the shrieking stopped abruptly. That's right…he'd thought he'd died. But he hadn't died.

"Harry?"

This time the voice was soft. Wobbly. Pathetic sounding. He peeked an eye open to find a red headed girl staring down at him, eyes wide. He forced himself to sit up; staring around the cave he seemed to be in slight confusion. Why was everything so horribly out of focus?

"Harry?"

Ah, that's right. That was his name. Harry Potter. He frowned. But he knew that wasn't true. He was Lukian Slytherin, wasn't he? Panic flared at the sound of his last name. That just confused him even more. Why would he dislike his own last name? After all, Slytherin was a prestigious house.

Wait. Didn't he just establish his last name was Potter?

"Harry?"

He forced himself to his feet, nearly stumbling as he blinked to clear his blurry vision. What on earth was wrong with his eyesight? Did he have his glasses on?

Wait a moment, he wore glasses? A hand reached up and touched the lens that were, in fact, on his face. Well, damn! Apparently he did! But that didn't explain why they weren't correcting his vision. Or why he was absolutely sure he hadn't worn them before. Luka frowned before reaching up and removing the glasses. A migraine instantly flared as everything came into sharp focus.

Ah. That solves that problem. Why was he wearing them in the first place? He obviously didn't need them. Did he? Just to be sure, Luka placed them on once more and nearly hissed as he felt himself instantly loose his sense of balance. Frustrated and more then just a little confused, he tossed the offending glasses into the shadows of the cave.

"Harry!" He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the startled shriek. He stared at the red haired girl next to him. He blinked. Goodness, she was quite young. Perhaps nine or ten? "Don't you need them to see?"

"Um," Came his ever intelligent reply. "I do not think so."

The girl chewed on her lip. "Did…the phoenix tear's fixed your eyesight too?"

Phoenix? Luka eyes immediately locked to his right where there was a large scarlet phoenix watching him with its head ever so cocked. He had needed phoenix tears? How badly had he been hurt? Slightly alarmed now and more then just a little confused, he spotted the dead basilisk.

"Who did that?" Luka asked, pointing at the dead snake in dismay. It must have taken it centuries to get so large. Poor thing.

"You did, Harry." The look the red head was giving him was down right cautious now. "Are you…alright?"

He shrugged, frowning as he stared at the dead body. He had killed a basilisk? Why hadn't he just bound it to his will? What a waste…

Something very odd was going on here, though he wasn't sure just what. Hadn't he just been in the Keep? He could have sworn Mikhail had just told his heart to stop functioning. Speaking of his brother, where was he? He nearly slapped himself as he started to look around the cave. He clearly wasn't in the Keep anymore. He was Harry. Not Luka. No wait a minute. That wasn't right either. He was Luka. He was positive his brother had just tried to kill him. Growling in frustration he charged over to a nearby pool and plunged himself into the cold waters.

He remerged in shoulder deep water, rather disappointed when he hadn't woken up in either of the two beds he remembered as being his own. He blinked. That thought was...odd. But yes, he could clearly picture both bedrooms.

"Harry?"

"I am unharmed, Ginny. A moment, please."

He knew the red head's name? Extraordinary. Luka glanced down at his reflection and frowned, confused about why he was confused about the length of his hair. He had always kept it this length, just long enough to brush his chest and wild enough to fly angrily in all directions. Still, something about it felt decidedly not right. Trying to ignore the conflicting feelings he threaded his fingers rather roughly through the lengthy hair, trying to tame the worst of the tangles.

"I don't know why it grew either." The Ginny girl said from behind him. He turned to look at her. Grew? "You can always get Madam Pomfrey to cut it short for you again."

Luka stepped back as if the girl had slapped him. He had cut his hair short? Like a peasant? Dear Lord, if his father ever heard about this – Wait a minute. He didn't have a father. Or a mother. His parents were killed by Voldemort. Right? He knew that was true. But…who the hell was Voldemort? Sighing he waded toward the water's edge. This was getting old rather quickly. The girl must have interpreted his silence for something else completely because she was speaking rapidly at him. "I'm so sorry I got you into this, Harry! I'm sorry about your arm! I'm sorry about your hair! It just did that after Fawkes gave you his tears. I-I thought you were dead."

He climbed from the pool quickly, not wanting to see the red head break into another bout of tears – especially with his head aching as it did. He wasn't quite sure why the child thought this was her fault but regardless Luka did feel quite strongly that it wasn't. He took her hands in his own and gave them a firm squeezing, willing her to hear the truth in his words. "This is not your fault. Not unless you stole yourself out of your own bed. I am fine, Ginny, I swear it."

Ginny nodded, pulling her hands away and bringing them up to rub at her eyes in a way that instantly reminded Luka of Sigerd's six year old sister, Velda. He gave her a soft smile and reached out to ruffle her hair. She blushed and ducked away from him.

"What about Ron?"

"Who?"

Ginny stare at him like he was crazy. "Ron! Ron Weasley! My brother? Your best friend!"

Oh. That Ron. "Forgive me, of course. He was down that tunnel there, I think. Perhaps you should go and collect him?"

He turned towards the phoenix, a short gesture of his arm later and the large beast was perched on his forearm. He was rather embarrassed to find it shaking under the weight. Either this was a particularly portly phoenix or he was weaker then he thought. Luka had a sinking feeling it was the last option.

"You remind me of Hansa. Perhaps one of her brood?" The phoenix gave a trill and Luka smiled, reaching up and scratching his breast feathers. "Well, could you fetch your owner for me? I do believe we shall need the Headmaster's help to get out of this mess."

Of course! How could he have forgotten! He was here at school. Albus Dumbledore was the Headmaster and – and that rather conflicted with just about a thousand other facts he knew to be equally true. The phoenix trilled again and shot towards the ceiling, his wing beats chilling the soaked Luka slightly. He was at Hogwarts. A headmaster was in place instead of the Founders. How very disconcerting. He turned to the red head next to him, giving her a warm smile.

"Ginny, love," She blushed to the roots of her hair (which had become hard to tell apart from the rest of her) "this is going to sound like a silly, strange question but what is the date?"

"Huh? Oh…it's May 29th."

His eyebrows rose at that. May? He supposed that was Maius. No, he knew it was. The months were different now – a different calendar he believed. But…Luka wasn't sure if he was going to like the next answer.

"And the year?"

Another strange look. "1993."

Luka froze. Well, that was different. He licked his lips. "Ginny, do you think you could go down that corridor and check on Ron and Professor Lockhart, now?" Who the hell was Lockhart? "I assure you it is quite safe. Return to me once you have seen to them."

She nodded, sending him another look before disappearing down the hall. Finally alone, Luka brought a hand up to itch his forehead in confusion. Only to become fascinated with a scar that he was certain he'd never had before. He made his way to a nearby channel and examined his image.

He looked the same, for the most part. Green eyes and black hair, like he'd had his entire life. But the scar was not a welcome addition (though he rather liked the lightening bolt shape it had) as he was almost certain it was a magical one. He also wore the crest of Gryffindor upon his chest. That had irked him slightly. While he had been raised in the High King's house and thus had practically been raised by Lord Godric, he had never in his life worn the man's crest.

And there was something else…something else off about his reflection but for the life of him, Harry couldn't think of what it possible could be.

To add to his confusion, there seemed to be a very unnerving statue of his father – head and shoulders only, bald as Luka had never seen him in life and with a gaping mouth – staring at him from across the cave. He let his eyes drift back to his reflection and tried to gather his thoughts. A thought struck him that instantly made him uncomfortable and his eyes shot up, staring around the room quickly.

Where is my wand?

"Accio my wand!" The wand came shooting from across the cave and he felt relief almost the instant the heavy wood came into contact with his palm. And has Lukian Slytherin stared down at the wand that he immediately recognized as his own yet not – the memories of his life as Harry Potter came crashing down.

Dear Gods! I've been reincarnated!

He felt his breath quicken into uneven puffs. Mikhail hadn't tried at anything! Luka had died! He shoved his wand in his pocket, wincing as he heard his dueling master screaming in the back of his head about respecting his weapons, and brought a shaking hand up to rub his aching forehead.

Reincarnated! Dear, dear gods!

"Are you okay, Harry?"

He glanced over at the red head and gave her a weak smile. "Fine, Ginny. How is Ron?"

"He's okay. He say's Lockhart doesn't remember anything because of the Obliviate." She looked at him worriedly. "He wants to talk to you."

They were worried about him, Luka realized with a groan. He certainly had been acting suspicious enough. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed to calm down. He had to clear his mind, find his center once more. Luka pushed the memories as Harry to the back of his mind, willing them to settle…At some point he was going to have to sit down and go through each memory he had as Harry thoroughly. He had a sinking feeling that he wasn't going to enjoy them very much.

Either way, he could handle this situation. He was Lukian Slytherin – er, Harry Potter.

He opened his eyes with a nod and gave the red head a kind smile. "Forgive me, Ginny, for scaring you. It was not my intention. I assure you I am quite alright. I was just a little confused from my previous injury."

She was still watching him with that confused, beaten puppy look that made Luka wince. But she did nod, albeit slowly.

Luka glanced over at the dead basilisk and then to the statue of his father. Whatever happened to him? He'd have to find out. Had Mikhail become head of the House? Or had his father killed Misha and passed it to their sister, Avdotya? What happened to Sig? And Vanya and Leof? And Cassian…Gods, that was over a thousand years ago! He felt himself tearing as he realized what he had lost. His family, his friends, his very life was gone.

And as Harry – as Harry he had the Dursleys.

Didn't Hermione tell him that no one knew really what happened back in the days of the Founders? Was he never to know? Was he to live the rest of his life never knowing what happen to his loved ones? The thought was too much for Luka to bear. Ginny let out a shout and pointed above them and when he craned his head back he could see three rapidly descending brooms, Fawkes weaving around them eagerly. Luka sent the red head a forced smile, pushing his grief away. There would be an appropriate time for that later. "It looks as if the cavalry has finally arrived."

He ran his hands through his messy hair as the Professors descended and nearly kissed Ginny when she offered him a hair band. But gods, if there was one thing he didn't mind about a short cut it was not wrestling with his hair. He gripped the hair tie between his teeth, bringing both hands to try and tug the unruly thing into shape. The brooms circled closer and he wasn't surprised to see two out of the four House Heads' silhouetted forms. He recognized Dumbledore instantly of course, and Luka felt himself smiling faintly at the ridiculous robes the man was wearing.

"Lukian." The call was loud, as if it had been spoken right next to his ear and his head snapped towards the open mouth of the statue of his father. "Lukian, my son. Come to me."

And he did, nearly sprinting the distance and into the small chamber on the other side of the mouth. He was aware that it snapped close after him, as did the heavy oaken double doors that lead to his father's study. The small room burst into light, the large fireplace and torches lighting themselves instantly. Luka stopped abruptly, staring at the sizable portrait of his father that stared down at him. His breath left him as if he'd been punched.

Of course it's a portrait. How could father possibly still be alive?

Still, he felt sorrow overwhelm him. Salazar was at the very forefront of his portrait, his glass of wine and comfortable looking sitting chair forgotten as he stared down at his son, his green eyes stormy. When the portrait spoke again, it was no longer in his mind.

"Lukian, please." His face's voice was laced with emotion in a way that it had never been in life. It utterly undid him. He moved until his face was pressed against the portrait, tears streaming freely down his cheeks. He felt magic flare around him – his father's magic – and then firm arms were around him, holding him tightly.

Luka pulled back in shock, staring up at the solid form of Salazar Slytherin. "How?"

"Quiet, my son." And Luka obeyed, burying his face in his father's robes, incapable of stilling the tears that continued to fall. For a moment Luka just allowed himself to be held, sobbing each time his father's fingers brushed through his hair and across his neck, the other moving soothingly across his back. What would he have given to have his father hold him like this in life?

"Why, Father?" He asked, unable to bear the silence any longer. "Why did brother do this?"

Salazar sighed and pressed gently against the back of his head and Luka obediently allowed himself to slump against Salazar's sturdy frame once more.

"Forgive me, my son. What happened was my own fault; I did not think that he would dare attack you." His father nuzzled him gently and Luka nearly collapsed completely. Salazar had never been affectionate with him in life – this was all almost too much. "When I saw you dead in Adair's arms I nearly lost myself in my grief."

"But why?" Luka asked, his voice breaking.

"I grew distrustful of Mikhail. I should never have let him train underneath Herpo. Instead of quelling his thirst for the dark arts it only made him want more. The night before the Winter Solstice, I renounced Mikhail as my heir and named you instead." Luka tensed in his father's arms, pulling away to stare up at him with wide eyes. Salazar was grim. "I took him aside and explained to him what I had done and why. He…seemed to take it well."

"He killed me to regain his title?" Luka couldn't keep the horror out of his voice. "I would have renounced it if he asked me to!"

"No, Lukian. He killed you to sate his anger and to gain the access to even darker arts. He killed many that night." Salazar's lips were a tight line, his eyes grave. "Only my fellow Founders and the King and Queen escaped with our lives."

Luka felt his mouth drop. There had been over a hundred party goers at the feast! He gasped as he realized what his father just said. The Prince had been killed! Oh gods, Sig! As had the other heirs and children of Founders. And Cassian…That brought new tears. Just when he they had begun to explore their tentative relationship! He pushed the pain away, determined to maintain some sort of composure in front of his father. Did none of the heir's survive? That was a horrible thought and Luka had to swallow against the very bitter taste in his mouth. Is that why they knew so little about the Founders? Because none of their children had survived that night?

"We do not have long, my son." Luka looked up at his father in alarm. "I can not keep them out much longer – not if I wish to maintain my physical form. The magic I left in the painting is strong, but it is best if we do not test it." His father's voice was serious and Luka nodded nervously, staring at the large painting as if he could somehow visibly see the weakening of the stores there. "I have much more to tell you, you must return when you are alone. Do you understand?"

"Why am I here, Father? Why have I been reborn?" The questions were desperate, asked even as he felt the solid form of his father quiver. He could hear voices from the other side of the door – someone was calling his name.

"Another time, my son. That story is long and trying." Salazar shook his head to silence the protest that Luka immediately put up. "I will not discuss this."

"Father, please-"

"Do not make me repeat myself." His tone was sharp and Luka instantly fell quiet. "Now, dry your tears and prepare yourself." Salazar's voice was stern, the kindness that had saturated him moments before gone completely as he stepped away from him. "I must warn you, Lukian. You may see others that you recognize – but they shall not know you. Now go."

"I…yes, Father." What the hell did that mean? Luka wasn't sure he wanted to know. With a wave of his hand Salazar opened the doors once more, the green magic that kept it sealed fading. He stepped through it, his eyes easily adjusting to the dim light of the tunnel as he neared the closed mouth.

He could hear yelling, mostly his name, and banging on the other side. He rolled his tongue, sliding into Parselmouth effortlessly and commanded it to open. Luka was greeted with the rather unappealing sight of being at the end of five wands – including those of Ron and Ginny Weasley. The Headmaster lowered his wand instantly, a fierce frown on his lips and Luka shuddered, deciding instantly that he never wanted to be on the business end of Albus Dumbledore's wand ever again.

"Hello, Professors." Luka greeted them; smiling faintly at them and hoping none of them would hex him for the scare he undoubtedly just gave them. McGonagall actually looked closed to it from the way her left eye was twitching. "I must admit, you are a sight for sore eyes."

The Headmaster's eyes were piercing and Luka dropped them immediately, only to wince and bring them back up seconds later. This was Dumbledore, not Mikhail. He wouldn't invade his mind on a whim.

"Are you quite alright, Harry?" His words were dangerous, Luka realized with a jolt. Suspicious. He really didn't want Dumbledore to suspect him of anything.

"Unharmed, thankfully." He answered. "Though I fear the results would have been much different if it had not been for your Fawkes."

"Care to explain what is going on here, Mr. Potter, or is even that courtesy beyond you?" The voice was harsh and Luka instantly bristled.

Snape.

For a moment he was completely Harry. Every unpleasant interaction he'd had with the Potions Professor rolled almost at once across his mind and it took every bit of his court training to keep his face from twisting into a sneer. This was the last thing he needed. Luka turned to glare at the Professor, angry words halfway out of his mouth before he froze completely.

Cassian Adair.

Mini-Appendix I:

Æthelred II of England – Really existed and did kill off his brother. Was actually called 'The Unready' because of his inability to drive off Danish raiders.

BCE/CE (Before Common Era/Common Era) – Alternate dating system then the Christian BC/AD.

Comtesse - French for Countess. The British and Irish equivalent is an earl.

Hnefatafl - A really old board game that is like chess but is instead set up like a naval battlefield.

Herpo – As in Herpo the Foul, a Greek Wizard was a Parselmouth and hatched the first Basilisk. He dabbled in seriously Dark Arts, including how to make Horcrux.

Maius – May's title in the Julian calendar, which was commonly used until Gregorian calendar was introduced in 1582.

Yule – One of the holidays celebrated by pagans on the Wheel of Year. Celebrated for several, accumulating on December 25th which is why we have Christmas when we do. Interestingly enough, it's apparently linked to the Wild Hunt mythology too.

Hope you guys enjoyed it. Care to take a guess at who the heirs will be? Please review.