2DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. If it wasn't created by the great J.K. Rowling, it was inspired by her.
SUMMARY: Voldemort discovers an ancient spell that can be used to resurrect someone, and he uses it to bring back Salazar Slytherin. When Dumbledore and the others figure out what happened, they realize that the only way to stop them is to combine their efforts with those of the other three of the four most powerful wizards in history: Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff. However, there were things about the Hogwarts Four that were never written about in the history books, and one secret in particular that could spell victory for Voldemort...
A/N: This is the first chapter of this story. Sorry for taking so long to upload it.
Deep in a dark forest, hundreds of miles away from the nearest living person, a lone figure was making his way through the thick underbrush. He was like a shadow as he moved, concealed underneath a black cloak and making almost no sound as he walked. There were none in the wizarding world who did not know his name. The Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know-Who, Lord Voldemort - it didn't matter what he was called. What mattered was what, or rather, who he was: Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Heir of Slytherin.
Voldemort, as he now called himself, soon arrived at his destination: a small clearing in the trees with a large black cauldron in the middle of the open area. A fire was burning underneath the cauldron, and the dark green liquid inside it was at a full boil. Voldemort smiled to himself. Everything was in place.
Voldemort's hand reached into his cloak, and he pulled out several long, white, wispy shreds of snake skin. This was no ordinary snake skin, though - it was the skin of a horrible snake-like creature known as a Basilisk. The Basilisk had been killed five years ago by one of Voldemort's more powerful enemies, a boy named Harry Potter, but Voldemort had taken the skin long before the death of the creature with this moment in mind. It was time, and not even Harry Potter would be able to counter what he had in store.
His hand dropped the Basilisk skin into the cauldron. The liquid hissed and turned red with the addition of the new ingredient. Voldemort then retrieved something else from inside his cloak - a dagger. He pushed back the sleeve on his left arm, exposing the pale skin beneath. The blade of the dagger went to his arm, and Voldemort carved his full name, Tom Marvolo Riddle, into his skin. Blood came seeping out of the wound. He held his arm over the cauldron and allowed several drops of blood to fall into the brew.
Voldemort pushed his sleeve down and took several steps backward. The spell was almost complete. There was just one more step that had to be performed. He began reciting an incatation that until now, had never been heard before.
"The moon is high
The time is right
One long gone
Will return this night
The world has changed
It now hangs by a thread
I am faced with no choice
But to bring you back from the dead
Your Basilisk has fallen
Its skin I add to this brew
Its sacrifice was not in vain
For you shall live anew
And I, your heir, add my blood
To cleanse our world of the mud
I declare that you shall live again
Acotta Leiondar, Salazar Slytherin!"
The cauldron exploded.
At that same instant, hundreds of miles away, the boy named Harry Potter was jolted awake as excruciating pain ripped through his head. His scar was the source of the pain, and it hurt so bad it felt like his head was going to explode. He couldn't even think. All he could do was cry out in agony.
Harry's cry woke up his best friend, Ron Weasley, as well as the other three boys in the Gryffindor dormitory where the seventh-years slept. Ron darted over to Harry's bed and began shaking him. "Harry!" he said. "Harry, what's wrong!"
Harry tumbled out of bed and landed on the floor. Ron knelt down beside him. The other three boys got out of bed and crowded around them. "My scar!" Harry managed to say through clenched teeth. His eyes started to water, and he squeezed them shut. A moment later, he began hyperventilating.
"Get Dumbledore!" Ron shouted to the nearest person, which happened to be the Head Boy, Neville Longbottom.
"I'll go," offered Seamus Finnigan. He had been officially dubbed the fastest runner in school last year, after an incident involving bad aim with his wand and a Slytherin named Draco Malfoy.
"Someone go!" Ron said over Harry's cries of pain. He was starting to panic. Harry's scar had hurt him before, but never had anyone seen him suffer like this.
Seamus took off, and almost ran over a group of sixth-years who had been awoken by all the commotion and wanted to see what was going on. Neville announced that he was going to get Professor McGonagall, the head of Gryffindor house. Dean Thomas offered to go get the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey. Ron acknowledged both of their statements with a nod of his head, and the two boys sprinted out of the room.
Ron reached for Harry's hand and gripped it tightly. It was slippery from sweat. "It's okay, Harry," he said, rubbing his friend's raven-black hair reassuringly. "Seamus is getting Dumbledore, and Neville and Dean are getting McGonagall and Pomfrey."
Harry said something, but Ron couldn't catch it. "Ifanor!" Harry said again, only slightly more articulately. His voice was too constricted with pain for his words to make any sense.
"What's wrong with him?" asked one of the sixth-years, a tall, burly boy named Rick Lyons who was a Chaser on the Quidditch team.
"It's the scar," said Ron. "It's hurting him."
"Ifinnor!" said Harry.
"What's he trying to say?" inquired another sixth-year, Bodie Miller by name.
Ron shook his head. "I don't know."
A long, painful minute slowly passed, and then Neville burst into the room with Minerva McGonagall in tow. "Professor McGonagall!" Ron exclaimed. He wondered where Seamus was and why he hadn't gotten there with Dumbledore yet.
Minerva sprinted over to the crowd of boys around Ron and Harry. They stepped aside to let her through, and she dropped to her knees next to the suffering boy. "How long has he been like this, Mr. Weasley?" she asked.
"A little over two minutes," Ron answered. "He's been trying to say something, but we can't understand what."
Minerva touched Harry's forehead. It was burning hot, red, and throbbing. She reached up onto his bed, pulled off his pillow, and slid it under his head. She then transformed his scarf, draped over a nearby chair, into a wet rag and placed it on his forehead. Ron was certain he heard a sizzling sound as the cold cloth touched Harry's hot skin.
At that moment, Seamus arrived with the school's headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. The two of them broke into the circle. Dumbledore began talking to Minerva, while Ron asked what took them so long. Seamus mumbled something about a staircase.
"I've never seen it this bad, Albus," Minerva said. "He can barely even breathe."
Dumbledore had seen people suffer as Harry was right now before, but that was under the Cruciatus Curse. "Giffanor!" Harry choked.
"What's he saying?" asked Neville.
"It sounds like 'Gryffindor'," Dumbledore said. "He's trying to fight this by calling upon the name of Gryffindor."
The head of Gryffindor house looked at the headmaster. "Albus-"
"All over it, Minerva," he said, and then whispered, "Accio Gryffindor."
A moment later, something came flying through the window. It was a sword, with rubies in its handle of gold. Dumbledore held up his hand to slow the sword down, and then motioned downward to lower the sword to the floor. This beautiful and mysterious artifact had once belonged to the house's founder, Godric Gryffindor. Dumbledore took Harry's free hand and closed the young man's fingers around the handle. "GRYFFINDOR!" Harry shouted in a voice loud enough to be heard all the way to the Quidditch pitch.
About half a minute passed before anyone moved. Then, Harry opened his eyes and said weakly, "He's back."
When the smoke cleared, Voldemort found himself looking a tall, dark-haired, brown-eyed man clad in robes of green and silver. In his right hand, he held a staff with a silver snake head at the top. His left hand was in a fist held to his chest. Slowly, he pulled his hand away from his chest and opened his fist. Several long, white, wispy shreds of snakeskin fluttered to the ground.
The Dark Lord smiled triumphantly. "Welcome back, Salazar Slytherin."