Title: Necromancy

Original Title: Spirit of Hogwarts

Author: Soelle

Challenger: Blackest Grim

Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize, J. K. Rowling does. I just own the plot.

Chapter Rating: T

Summery: Poor, poor Harry. After he died, he was sent to the past as a spirit. Now he has to help the founders with Hogwarts. Well, maybe he'll get something out of it too… (SalazarHarry) Time Travel.

Warnings: Character death, SLASH (not until much later), Evil Dumbledore, and Time travel. Some swearing.

Parings: SalazarHarry

Author's Note: Finally, I'm updating the rewrite of Spirit of Hogwarts Challenge. This is a separate story because there's so much different. But hopefully this is a lot better then the original version. I didn't write the first part of this chapter, but I did edit it majorly. My part begins after the first scene, when Harry faints. Enjoy.

Chapter 1: The Silver Spirit

--

Pain…

That's all he felt, agonizing, white hot, pain washing through his body.

Then, like it was never there, it was gone. Not even a ghost of it left.

With a groan, Harry Potter sat up and brought his hand to his face, rubbing his sore eyes. He opened them tentatively, and felt his throat tighten with a silent yell when he saw his silvery, transparent appendage.

Harry took several deep calming breaths before looking back at his hand; nothing had changed in the five seconds that had passed. His hand was still as see-through. Harry quickly reached for his wand to summon a mirror, only to find it missing.

Damn it, I need a mirror!

Harry jumped in shock when suddenly a large, full body mirror appeared in front of him.

"Why, what's wrong, dear?" Came a voice from somewhere in the room.

Harry stood and looked frantically around him for the owner of the feminine voice.

"In front of you, dear. I'm the mirror you just summoned."

Harry looked at the mirror with narrowed eyes, "How could I have summoned you? I don't have a wand."

A motherly face appeared on the mirror's glass surface; she offered him a kind and understanding smile. "You are a spirit, love, one of great power. You don't need a wand."

"A…spirit? But that would mean I'm…" Harry couldn't say it. His mind couldn't grasp the idea after surviving for so long.

"Dead, love? I know it may be very hard on you to figure this out, but it is true." Harry looked into the age face in the mirror, he saw not pity as he suspected, but understanding.

"How can I be dead?"

"Do you remember the last thing that happened to you? Remember that and you will have your answer."

Harry look at the glassy surface for a moment before looking down into his folded hands, and he gritted his teeth as the events that led to his death and his death itself came to him.

--

Harry stood looking at the gargoyle statue in front of him. Dumbledore had called him, and apparently it was very important in the note given to him by a stuttering, first year Hufflepuff.

He felt his heart ache as remembered why the Hufflepuff was like that.

He had finally defeated Lord Voldemort at the end of his seventh year, but at the cost of many people's lives. The first to go down had been Remus Lupin, at the silver hand of Wormtail. Harry had had to hold back Tonks as she tried to rush towards the dead werewolf she had fallen in love with.

However, the grief-stricken woman had managed to wrestle at of his grasp. She had become the second death, soon to be followed by practically everyone in Dumbledore's Army and many Order members. It had been a hard battle, but Harry had found that the Death Eaters were ordered to not attack him, only his family and friends. Voldemort wanted Harry to himself.

During this, Dumbledore had not done everything in his power to prevent the deaths of many innocents; he didn't even try to stop a Death Eater from killing the Head of Gryffindor, who had been rumored to be the headmaster's wife.

Harry's heart had fallen to pieces when a Death Eater had killed Draco, who had become Harry's lover. The man had not survived the blast of raw magic that had left Harry's wand in his grief.

Harry discovered that Voldemort was his biological father at the beginning of his seventh year, but he was never able to bond with him because of Dumbledore and their bitter history with each other. The prophecy convinced both of them there could be no chance for forgiveness anyway.

Harry had never trusted anyone after the war was over, not even the man he had thought as his grandfather, because shortly after he killed his father he had found out that the prophecy was a fake. But when the same man had offered a home and job at Hogwarts, Harry had answered yes.

There had been nowhere else to go anyway.

He had now been working at the great castle for nearly five years. Though he loved his job, Hogwarts just seemed empty with no one he knew there to brighten it up as everyone he had been close to had been killed. Harry was just an empty shell, and his green eyes had lost what little light they had left.

The wizarding world was still recovering; slowly building up the brick wall they thought would be unbreakable, which had fallen in mere seconds. But Harry would never be able to rebuild his wall; the pieces were just too small.

--

Harry had been shaken out of his reverie by some Gryffindors running past him and they were quickly stopped by an invisible force. Harry walked over to them and coughed to get their attention. They gulped at they caught sight of their Head of House.

"What have I told you about running in the halls?" He said this in a calm but stern voice he had learnt from the Head before him.

The three 4th years stared in shock at him, before one of them, Mr. Young, answered, "We're sorry, sir, but we're late to the Defense Club meeting."

Harry frowned at them, and said, "Three points each for running in the hall. Hurry up and get to your meeting; I would hate to have Professor Smith come to me about lateness."

The three nodded and scurried of, and Harry smirked. He loved his students.

Shaking his head, Harry remembered the reason he was in this wing of the castle. Once again he stood in front of the statue and spoke the password (Chocolate covered Espresso Beans) and made his way up the spiraled staircase.

Before he could even knock, he heard the voice of the old headmaster telling him to enter.

Later, Harry vaguely noted he should have ignored the small note as he battled against Dumbledore for his life. The old wizard had called him to kill him quickly, and was going to use the alibi that Harry committed suicide in a fit of depression during their meeting. The senile, manipulative, old fool had said that he did not like how much influence Harry had in their current world.

They were now fighting high above Hogwarts in their animagus forms; Harry a great, black griffin against Dumbledore, a grey Hungarian Horntail. The two were almost evenly matched, but the older wizard had more experience in battling then Harry did.

Eventually, Harry tired out and fell in a downward spiral towards one of the towers in his human form.

The last thing Harry remembered was the graying sky and an immense pain through his back before darkness covered his vision. The last thing he heard was a scream from one of his students.

He had fallen a hundred feet onto the sharp point of his beloved Gryffindor Tower.

--

Harry drew in a long, shuddering breath.

Albus Dumbledore had killed him.

He new he should have seen it coming by the way the old man looked at him at meals, but never in his wildest dreams had he suspected this. Now he was dead in a place he did not recognize.

"Dear, will you be alright?" was the concerned voice of the mirror.

Harry quickly shook his head, mad at himself for showing so much emotion, "Of course. I just died. I'm perfectly alright."

The mirror gave him a sad smile and kindly ignored the sarcasm. "My name is Monica. What is your name? I'm sure you don't want to be called love or dear."

Harry smiled; it had been a while since anyone had spoken to him, ignorant of his history and fame. "My name is Harry Riddle or Harry Potter, either one works. Or you can call me Gryphon, if you wish. That's what all my friends called me."

"Why did they call you Gryphon, Harry?"

"I'm a griffin animagus."

Surprise showed on her face. "Oh, can I see?" Monica inquired. "Animagus around here aren't very common."

Harry's brows knitted. "I'll change, if I can, for you if you tell me where I am."

"We're in a castle use by thieves at the moment; unfortunately, that's why I'm here. Stole me from my ancestors' house they did."

"Thanks." Harry took a deep breath and concentrated on his inner animal, "Well, here goes nothing."

A few seconds later, Harry opened his eyes to see shock on Monica's face. He tried to speak but remembered he could only produce high pitched bird sounds and clicks. That meant that he had done it. Harry turned to the mirror to look at himself, and a large silvery griffin stood where he once did.

Harry quickly transformed back to the sound of clapping. Monica was beaming. "That was great, Harry! I've only ever seen four others with an animagus forms, but none of theirs were as great as your."

"Um…thanks, I guess. Who are the four you speak of, Monica?" He had a nagging feeling he would regret that question.

"Oh, call me Monnie." She said with a great smile. "One is my granddaughter and the others are her three friends. All of them are very talented."

Harry smiled. "What is her name…Monnie?"

"Oh, her name is Helga, Helga Hufflepuff. Her friends are Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. Funny how she makes friends with people that are nothing like her. Godric for instance-", She stopped as she caught sight of the look on Harry's face, "You all right dear?"

"T-the founders of Hogwarts, Monnie?" Harry felt light headed. He was in the founder's time period!

Monica looked confused for a moment before she spoke, "Oh, Harry, they haven't founded anything yet, but they are planning on founding a school. How did you know that?"

And that's when Harry finally fainted.

--(And now the part I've written.)

A pale, blond man stood outside a large castle. His hand was clasped tightly around his wrist behind his back, the other hand holding a long, smooth piece of wood.

This man hummed, occasionally squinting in the distant path. He would sigh, glance at the sky, and then repeat the process.

Minutes later, as he was squinting, he spotted what he had been waiting for. A medium-height, dark figure with a ragged cloak was walking down the path, long strides unhurried. A hood obstructed the facial features from view.

As soon as he was within a meter away from the pale man, the figure asked in a muffled, neutral, voice, "Is everything ready?" As the pale man opened his mouth, the dark man continued, "And put away your wand. We are allies."

The pale man did not put away his wand, but only released his arms to relax at his sides. Leveling a glare at the pale man, the figure spoke. "Unless…of course…you wish to be rid of our alliance…" The softly spoken voice caused shivers to go down the pale man's spine.

"Non!" The pale man cried out with a light French accent. "I would not want zat- yes…allies…" He trailed off, before sticking his wand in his pocket.

The hooded figure nodded absently, and turned to look into the darkened forest. "When are they due to arrive?"

"In an 'our, at most," replied the tallest of the pair.

The cloaked man paused, but nodded a second later. "Good." Pulling out a manuscript, he stated, "Follow these instructions. Make no mistakes. I'm expecting only the best from you, Seaxulf."

The pale man, Seaxulf, nodded, and waited until the hooded man was out of sight before opening the letter. This had better be worth it, he thought as he read the instructions.

--

"Is this it, Salazar?" A man with red hair asked his companion.

Salazar checked a hand-drawn mask. "Yes, it is. According to this map that blond rat gave us."

"Salazar!"

"What Helga?" Salazar snapped. "He is as good as a rat! He stole your grandmother's mirror!"

"But you can't just call people rats!" Helga protested. "At least he's going to return it to me."

Salazar grumbled, "I know he has something up his sleeve."

Another woman stepped up. "Salazar, why must you always be so pessimistic?"

"Because I'm always right. Do you remember when that wizard with the red goatee told us his potion would cure Godric's nephew of the dragon pox?"

The other three grew silence as they remember the result of potion. Godric gritted his teeth. When all four started walking again, Salazar murmured to Godric, "I'm sorry."

Godric game a wistful smile. "You shouldn't be. You were right about that potion."

"Osric was dead as soon as he got sick," Salazar murmured. "Proving the potion was nothing more then grounded up billywigs and mandrake roots would have had no effect on eventual outcome."

Godric smiled. "Don't dwell on it."

Silence reigned until Salazar caught sight of a blond man bowing to Rowena and Helga further down the path. "Is that the man we're supposed to be meeting?"

"Let's find out." Godric sped up to meet the man, followed closely by a wary Salazar.

"Ah! Lord Gryffindor!" The man bowed. "It iz an 'onor to meet a wizard of such prestige. My name is Seaxulf Malfoi. Am I right to assume you want the mirror?"

Helga nodded, and spoke, "Yes, kind sir. That would be greatly appreciated."

"Follow me," Seaxulf waved them in the dusty halls, and continued to speak. "When I 'ad learnt one of my men took 'Ufflepuff's mirror, I was shocked, to think my men would even dare steal from such a vell known witch…" He went on, but Godric tuned him out, making observations of the castle. It was dreary, old, large, and made out of stone.

Like every other castle he had seen.

Could stand some cleaning though, Godric thought as he watched a spider crawl down the wall.

Beside him, Salazar was asking Seaxulf if he could show them to the mirror instead of giving them a tour. Seaxulf faltered, but regained his smile quickly enough to disgust Salazar. In his mind, he had labeled Seaxulf as a greedy, deceitful man.

What ever Seaxulf would have said was cut off by a woman's yell. The quartet wasted no time in running to the woman's aid ("Finally!" Godric said, "Something interesting!"), and an apprehensive Seaxulf running after them.

--

"Hello? Hello, can you hear me?"

Harry groaned and turned to his side before he snuck a quick peak of his surroundings through his eyes.

He realized he was in the same room he had been in before he had fainted…Odd…how come no one took him to the Hospital Wi- Oh right. Dumbledore killed him, met a mirror named Monica, and discovered he was in the Founder Era. Specifically, before they founded Hogwarts. His first instinct was to sigh, his own way of showing his stress, but stopped when he heard voices talk around him.

"Is he awake?"

"I think so…"

"Who is he?"

"Rowena, how am I supposed to know that?"

"Salazar, you always know things you're not supposed to."

"She's right, Sal."

"Godric, you're supposed to be on my side!"

Rowena, Salazar, Godric. Harry repeated the mantra 'I'm crazy, I'm crazy, I'm crazy, I'm crazy' in his head for awhile to calm down his nervousness and to explain why he was suddenly a thousand years in the past. After all, if he did become a spirit, wouldn't he have remained in his own time? So what was he? A time traveling spirit? And just what were the chances of meeting the Hogwarts founders right away? They can't have been too-

"I'll try again….Can you hear me?"

Slowly, Harry stood, although he felt no strain on his muscles. No weight to support, Harry thought bitterly. "Yeah, I can hear you."

Instantly, there was a wand pointed to his throat.

The young man who wielded the wand had to be none other then Salazar Slytherin. He had black hair, which shined silver in the light and pretty jade eyes. Harry smirked inwardly at the thought. Who would have thought Slytherin could be associated with pretty? If this isn't Salazar Slytherin, Harry thought, I'll eat the Sorting Hat. Considering the thought, he added to the self-promise, After the Founders make it. And if a spirit could eat real objects.'

"I'm Harry Riddle. Or Harry Potter. I prefer the former though." Dumbledore had been aggravated for years by Harry's insistence of being called by his true surname. It wasn't much but Harry would take any pleasure he could.

Slytherin raised an eyebrow. "Two last names?" Harry could hear the skepticism oozing from his voice. "Why do you have two last names?"

A man with dirt covered skin, white blonde hair, stepped forward. "Oh, stop it, Salazar." He then turned to Harry. Harry frowned as he felt a small rush of familiarity, but he couldn't place it…

"How did you die?"

Harry shook his head slightly, and responded, "I was murdered."

A petite, kind looking woman with brown hair and warm, golden-brown eyes asked, "And why were you murdered?"

Harry shrugged indifferently. "Some old man wanted me dead."

Salazar eyes took on a calculating glint. "Why did he want you dead?"

"I was- am- too powerful."

Slytherin threw him a suspicious glare. "Why are you so calm about this?"

Another indifferent shrug, for what did he have to care about, now he was dead in this strange place?. "I can't bring myself to care right now," Harry answered.

A man with bright red hair, slightly like the Weasleys, but glinted gold in the correct light put in, "Where are you from?"

Harry stared blankly at the man for a moment. This must be Godric Gryffindor… "Little Hangleton. At least that's where my father's from."

"Well…" The dirty, silver eyed man began. "How did you become a spirit? Don't wizards usually become ghosts?" Then he shot Harry an odd look. "You were a wizard right?"

"Of course."

"So….?"

"So I don't know."

There was a silence where the five other people in the room simply stared at the man who called himself Harry Riddle/Potter.

"What's the year?"

Salazar raised his brow, but asked, "Why?"

Harry shrugged. "Need to know for a theory I have."

"Fine. It's the year 978."

"978…" Harry closed his eyes, not wanting to believe it. Why couldn't he just die like a normal person? Then he could be with his friends and family. But no, he had to become some sort of supernatural spirit and get sent to the past. Of course. Typical Harry Potter/Riddle luck.

"Wait…" The last woman, who must be Rowena Ravenclaw, who had blue eyes the color of robin's eggs, and copper colored hair, widened her eyes like Hermione used to when she just solved something. "Which year are you from?"

"2002."

This reaction was instantaneous. Everyone's, except Slytherin, who's eyes merely widened, jaw dropped and eyes widened. Even Ravenclaw, who had been suspecting an answer like that, just not that far in the future.

Harry, on the other hand, kept his Occlumency shields up. Not that he need it, he felt so hollow inside…he just didn't care anymore. He couldn't feel anything.

The good news that came with that is that no one could hurt him.

Godric let out a slow whistle. "That is quite far away."

No, really?

Salazar muttered sarcastically, "No, really?"

That was odd.

Godric rolled his eyes. "How else am I supposed to respond? It's not every day you meet a time traveling spirit!"

"How old are you?" Rowena asked questionably, ignoring the two bickering men in the background.

Harry glared at her. "Who are you to ask me these questions?"

"Oh!" Rowena flushed, but composed herself quickly. "Forgive my poor manners. I'm Rowena Ravenclaw. And the two gentlemen behind me are Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin."

I was right.

"I'm Helga Hufflepuff. You've met my grandmother's mirror already," said the petite woman with brown hair and gold-brown eyes.

The man with silver eyes stepped forward, and said with a slight French accent, "And I'm Seaxulf Malfoi."

Harry felt his eyes widen, but tried –and failed- to hide it quickly by tilting his head downwards.

"What is wrong?" Seaxulf questioned.

Harry shook his head while staring at the ground. "It's nothing, it's just…I know someone who is, more likely then not, related to you."

Silence. Even Gryffindor and Slytherin stopped their bickering.

"Oh really?" Harry heard the excited voice of Salazar Slytherin. Walking to stand right in front of Harry he continued, "Do you know who my heir is? Is he cunning? Ambitious?"

Now, how should I respond to that?

"Really, yes, yes, no."

The smile faded slightly, but he pressed on. "Who is he? Why isn't he ambitious?"

He was able to keep up with my answers? To tell would probably screw up the time line and not to tell would make him bug me…Okay, I'm going to tell. Nothing in the future worth preserving anyway.

"Me, and I just don't care for fame."

Silence once again clawed its way into the room. The people in the room just stared at Harry.

Harry on the other hand, felt amused. All of his life he thought of other people, but now he didn't have anyone left. So the only person he had to think of was himself.

Perfect.

--

I will be updating regularly every week as I have twenty-five pages already written. After that, I expect there will be large amount of time in-between updates. I strongly encourage reviews, especially critiques because I'm constantly trying to improve my writing skills. So please leave a thoughtful review.