'Twas etc. part 4.

[Barry Arrowsmith]

'Twas the week after Christmas and Madam Whiplash was not amused.
Four days since she'd been told to expect three ghostly guests and  
the last one still hadn't turned up. This was not to be countenanced.  
Strict rules of the House; you made a booking, you arrived on time -  
or else. The 'Unwarranted Cancelation Curse' was something to be  
feared - unfortunately, in this instance there was no one for  
Hermione to aim it at, which didn't improve her temper.

So when the familiar vapours formed on the surface of the Pensieve a  
grim  smile of satisfaction replaced her thunderous frown.

"Keep me waiting, will he? Right. Let's see how he copes with a  
transfer to Myrtle's U-bend. OK, Dumbledore .... wait a minute,  
you're not Dumbledore. What's going on? I'm expecting that old fool  
to arrive whittering on about choices. Where is he? Who're you?"

"Tough titty, girly. He ain't coming - you've got me instead."

"And who are you?"

The lean, be-whiskered phantom with the penetrating gaze raised an  
eyebrow, "Salazar Slytherin, of course."

"But you're evil!"

"Sez who?"

"Everybody!"

"Then everybody's wrong - as usual."

"But the Hat said -"

"Yeah? And just what did the Hat say? That I took cunning purebloods  
and the ambitious? Too right, I did. You got to remember, this was a  
thousand years ago. Do you know what  the average Muggle was like in  
those days? Illiterate, scrofulous, credulous and dim. Oh, we tried.  
Sent out the invitations by owl, just as they do now. 'Third hovel  
below the Midden', 'Just downwind of the cess-pit'. Pointless - they  
couldn't read. And when they took the letters to the parish priest to  
find out what it was all about, next thing they knew they'd be  
strapped into the ducking stool and be looking at the ducks from  
underneath. Waste of good parchment.

"So I said 'Let's keep it in the wizarding families. At least they've  
got some clue to what it's all about, know how to keep their mouths  
shut and won't spend six months wandering around the countryside  
asking directions to a school that's invisible to your average  
yokel.' Went over like rat droppings in the gruel, that did. Got  
called all sorts of nasty names." He sighed. "After a while it got   
to me - all those remedial classes for those who believed that a  
lunar eclipse was caused by a cheese-munching sky-god, trying to drum  
into some thicko's head that there's more to magic than Aphrodisiacs  
and wart removal. That's all they ever seemed to think about - that  
and charming geese to lay golden eggs. Talk about limited goals.  
Depressing, it was.

"Then came the bust-up. Mind you, I'd had a bad day, what with that  
stupid kid and his get-rich-quick idea. Accio totalus means just that  
- you get everything - Basilisks, Cockatrices, Dragon Pox, Italy....  
It took ages to sort out the mess in the Common-room. So I left.  
After I'd disappeared, that's when the whispers started. Elitist,  
racist, all the rest of the claptrap. So-bloody-called interpreters  
of my message. Happens all the time. I was only talking to Odin the  
other day; there he was, sitting pretty - All-father, Sky-father, God  
of Runes, Victory and all that lot, whose shamans' duty it was to  
question each child at the mid-winter feast to find out if they'd  
been behaving themselves and Bingo! Along come the historical  
revisionists and turn him into a branch of United Parcels. Livid, he  
was. "Sal," he said, "standards are really slipping. Time was, some  
tribe pissed you off and you zapped 'em. Quite right too. Teach 'em   
to show some respect. Nowadays divine retribution is just seen as an  
opportunity to organise a rock-concert."

Hermione was getting impatient.
That's all very well, but what's it got to do with me?"

"Obvious, I'd've thought. You only need to reform your character,  
change your behaviour, if you're bothered about what folk'll say  
about you when you ain't around any more." He brooded for a moment or  
two. "Not that it'll make much difference in the long run, they'll  
twist your words to suit themselves, no matter what."

Enlightenment dawned on Madam's features.
"Oh, good! Just what I wanted to hear! And besides, if  I'm a little  
more emphatic there won't be any misunderstandings, will there?"

She turned her head towards the door. "Droopy!" she bawled, "get in  
here. Now! There're some new House Rules I want you to paste on the  
front door!"

Smiling gently, Salazar slowly slid back into the Pensieve.