Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot.

…

Earning His Trust

Harry laughed, watching Ginny speed past Ron to score a goal. Ten points to them.

"God, Weasley! Can't you do anything!" a voice called from high above the field.

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy—I don't see you down here flying your arse off!" the red-head answered back.

"And risk being knocked off my broom by you? Surely you jest..." the blonde sneered.

"Hey—why don't we call it a night? I still have to work on McGonagall's essay." Harry called out, once again the peacemaker.

"Yeah, and I still have loads of Charms homework to catch up on." Ginny agreed, filling in Hermione's shoes as Harry's backup.

"Oh, sure—quit while you're ahead…" Draco drawled, flying closer to them. "But next time, I get Ginny."

"Hey!" exclaimed Ron who had joined the group just in time to hear Draco's last comment, "You're not all that great either you know…"

"Yeah, well, maybe if I were paired up with someone who actually knew what they were doing I might actually be motivated to do better." he shot back with a lazy roll of his silver eyes.

Harry chuckled, sharing a look with Ginny. 'Here they go again,' his eyes seemed to say.

"C'mon, guys, let's turn in" Ginny laughed, sending a wink Harry's way. She flew over to him, holding out her hand with a smile. He accepted it, pulling her in for a kiss on the forehead.

"Oh, get a room!" Malfoy exclaimed just as Ron cried out, "Hey! Not in front of the brother!"

"Let's go before Harry decides your sister's tonsils are golden snitches and tries to catch one with his tongue or something…" Malfoy suggested to Ron who made a disgusted face at the image the Slytherin put into his head.

"Yeah, let's."

The two flew off, leaving Harry and Ginny to their laughter. Hand still entwined with the younger Weasley's, he watched the blonde and the red-head fly back to the locker rooms together. The fact that Draco Malfoy was now one of their closest friends would never cease to amaze him.

In fact, the past year would live forever in his memory as both the best and worst time of his life. He shuddered, remembering how he believed Snape really had killed Dumbledore at the end of 6th year. The hate he felt towards the Potions teacher was incredible—he didn't even hate Voldemort that much. But that was before he returned to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place after his 17th birthday. There, in the living room, sat a very healthy looking Albus Dumbledore, having tea with Narcissa Malfoy, Draco, and Professor Snape. Harry would have sworn his jaw hit the floor.

It was the beginning of the end—Voldemort's end. Dumbledore's death had been an intricate plot created by Snape and Narcissa themselves. With her husband in Azkaban, her only goal in live was the safety of her son and she knew that the Dark Side was the last place she would be able to find that.

Flashback

"Please, sit with us a moment, Harry." Albus requested.

Harry just stood by the door, wanting to pinch himself to see if this was true, only, he couldn't move. Dumbledore? Alive? He didn't know whether to shout for joy, scream in anger or cry in relief.

"Harry?" the Boy-Who-Lived felt a warm pressure on his shoulder—Lupin. "Come on, Harry." But he refused to budge.

"What's going on here?" he demanded, a slight waver in his otherwise steady voice.

Seeing as how the stubborn Gryffindor would most likely demand an explanation before he took a step, Dumbledore began to relay events that led up to that moment. First Narcissa's decision, then the trip to Snape's with Bellatrix Lestrange in order to fool the Dark Lord's most obsessive servant into thinking the Dark Side had their never-ending loyalty; how so many Death Eaters that had once been Hogwarts students were beginning to lose faith in their Lord—they were the ones who really killed the other Death Eaters the day of Dumbledore's "death".

"We've got something on him now, Harry—Voldemort believes Snape, Narcissa, Draco and I are dead! Think of what that could mean for the Order!" the Headmaster urged.

"How do we know they won't go running back to him? How do we know we can trust them?" Harry demanded to know.

Without a word, Narcissa set a briefcase in her lap. Opening it, she extracted a small jewelry box. Lifting the top, she handed it to Harry, who accepted it. Inside was a charm—a silver snake with blood-red eyes and specks of emerald green adorning the body.

"Do you know what this is, Potter?" Narcissa asked in a gentle tone, unlike the grating noise he thought he was sure to hear. Harry shook his head.

"This belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself. He had it made for a certain woman he planned to make his bride."

Harry's green eyes widened in shock. "His bride!"

"Duh, you oaf—you don't think his line magically continued itself out of thin air, do you?" Draco rolled his eyes. A familiar flair of loathing spread though Harry's chest and he shot his school-enemy a glare.

"Shh, Draco," his mother scolded softly before continuing the tale. "When Hogwarts was but an idea in the minds of two witches and two wizards, the four founders were best friends. Yes, Potter—even Gryffindor and Slytherin. In fact, the two were almost inseparable: Slytherin the Pure-Blood and Gryffindor the Half-Blood."

"Gryffindor was a half-blood!" Harry shot out, and Narcissa nodded.

"Indeed. One day, the two were out walking—planning for their new school, no doubt—and they came across a maiden sleeping in the woods. She was beautiful—long flowing, dark hair, pale skin, and lips as red as blood. Salazar fell in love immediately.

"He courted her, much to Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and especially Gryffindor's amusement. They had never seen their usually reserved friend so…alive. It was because of this that Slytherin made his final decision to go ahead and create the school—Hogwarts. He wanted to marry his beloved in the Great Hall of this new school.

"She was perfect in his eyes: her soft, thick hair that smelled of the forest; her striking blue eyes; the silky skin he loved to run his hands over; her soft lips; the tinkle of her laughter; everything. But she was a Muggle, and didn't know of his magical background. He, of course, didn't care—he loved her and she loved him. He believed with his heart and soul that she wouldn't care if he were a wizard. It would be their downfall.

"Salazar Slytherin always had a flair for the dramatic, and his proposal was no exception. He met her deep in the forest weeks before the school was to be established, on Midsummer's eve—the most magical night of the year. Instead of presenting her with a ring, he pulled out this charm, suggesting she wear it around her neck. The chain was long enough so the charm could rest in the valley of her breasts—right next to her heart. She of course, accepted. Slytherin was a fine young man, handsome and wealthy, with a kind heart to match. But, before he celebrated, he confessed to her his deepest secret: the truth of his ancestry.

"She claimed to love him still, and they parted for the night. When he went to meet her the next day, she was nowhere to be found. He looked everywhere, even daring to step foot in her village, taking the utmost care not to be seen. But he was.

"The villagers, overprotective of the young beauty, had been constantly asking where she went off to all the time. Most had been content with her answer—'I love the woods, they're magical'—and had written it off as the romantic mind of a young woman, but one in particular grew curious—her suitor, Hansel.

"Hansel prided himself on his good looks and the fact that no other man in the village could claim Raina above him. So, when she began showing disinterest in his advances, he became determined to find out why. One night, he followed her deep into the forest and hid amongst the bushes. True to his assumptions, he saw Raina meet a man in the nearby clearing. The familiar way they addressed each other was proof this wasn't their first meeting. He grew angry upon hearing this stranger ask for Raina's hand—and even angrier at her acceptance. Then, the man confessed something that Hansel had never expected—he was a wizard.

"Unable to stay any longer, he crept off, malice dancing in his veins. If he couldn't have Raina, no one could—especially not a wizard.

"When Raina came back to the village, she was immediately taken by two large men and tied up. They brought her to the church, where Hansel accused her of dealing with the devil. He relayed what he had witnessed to the entire town, ending his tale with a grope at her neck. He held up the necklace for everyone to see. 'A serpent!" he cried out, 'The devil's creature!' They threw it into the fire as she pleaded for them to return it. As soon as it touched the flame, the fire turned a brilliant green, adding to the people's belief that it was the work of the devil.

"Hansel, fueled by anger, took up a torch full of the green fire and used it to light the dry wood that surrounded Raina—they had sentenced her to death by burning—but the flames didn't touch her. By the time the fire faded, Raina and the necklace were still in tact, which only angered Hansel more. Raina, begging for mercy, was ignored as Hansel took his hunting knife and slit her throat with one easy swipe of his hand, the other hand clutching the serpent charm.

"Legend says that the eyes of this serpent were originally green—to match Salazar's—but the second Raina's blood fell on them, they stained red. Hansel tried to scrub it off, but it never worked. Why he cared, no one will know. Maybe it was a harsh reminder of why he felt so guilty…or maybe fear because he knew: even if no one else remembered the true color, the wizard would. Hansel could overpower a young maid—but a wizard?

"Whatever it was, it drove him mad. His insanity set in so quickly—mere hours—that it is said the charm pushed him to his limit. So, when he caught a glimpse of Salazar the next afternoon, all hell broke loose.

"Being the great wizard he was, Salazar was able to stop the crazed lunatic and the rest of the villagers carrying knives and pitchforks with a wave of his wand. Getting them to relay the previous night's event was just as easy—but a million times more difficult to cope with. He was appalled that the villagers did nothing but stand there and watch the murder of an innocent and beautiful being. What's more, they seemed to hold no remorse for their actions—especially Hansel.

"This was the day the three Unforgivable Curses were created. First, he put all the villagers under the Imperius Curse, forcing them to beat Hansel until he was a breath away from death—among other gruesome tasks. Then, the Cruciatus Curse, letting all the villagers feel what his beloved must have felt—and then some. On all the villagers, save one, he used the Avada Kedavra Curse—they all dropped dead at his feet. Hansel, however, remained.

"There was no spell fitting for Hansel, so Salazar cursed him to live in pain for the rest of his days. But, that wasn't the worst part. Slytherin was so filled with rage that he believed death wasn't enough for Hansel, so he took away his soul, saying he'd find peace only when his soul was returned to him by a member of Slytherin's own house.

"Taking the charm from Hansel, he disappeared, leaving Hansel alone to wander the forest on the outskirts of the village. Slytherin went back to the castle, exhausted. He would never be the same. From that day on, he lost all respect, faith, belief, love in the non-magic community. Muggles were synonymous to sin. He moved his dormitory in the school to the dungeons and kept to himself. When he did come up to discuss business with Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, he always said the same thing: 'No muggle-borns". Gryffindor, of course, was furious—he was a half-blood, after all. But Slytherin wouldn't budge. 'No Muggles—they're dirty…dirty bloods…Mudbloods'. It became his mantra… 'Mudbloods'. Finally, they couldn't take it anymore, and demanded he leave. So, he left—but not before creating the Chamber of Secrets, as you discovered your 2nd year. The rest, you could say, is history."

Harry could hardly believe his ears. From the look on Lupin and Draco's faces, this was the first time they had heard the full tale—even Snape and Dumbledore looked impressed. It was a while before anyone could speak.

"Hang on," Harry frowned, remembering the reason the story was told in the first place. What's this got to do with Voldemort?"

"It belonged to Slytherin—the very symbol of his hatred for Muggles and Muggle-borns. Naturally, its history intrigued the Dark Lord very much. Remember our conversation earlier this year, Harry? About Tom Riddle's fixation with Hogwarts? With the Founders? What you see before you is a Horcrux, Harry." Albus answered, eyes twinkling.

It was that moment Harry knew—they could win this war.

End flashback

"Harry?" Ginny's soft voice called, bringing him back to the present. His eyes met hers, the worried expression on her face making him feel guilty.

"Sorry," he apologized, squeezing her hand "I went back in time, I guess."

She laughed—a sound he knew he'd never tire of hearing. "C'mon—they'll be waiting for us."

He pulled her in for one more kiss before they flew back together, still holding hands.