Ouroborus

1

He was the last person in the entire world who should have been in this position.

He was once great.

He was Salazar Slytherin, one of the most celebrated minds and mages in the magical world.

And then he wasn't.

And then he was nothing.

Really, he thought contemptuously, I have done nothing to deserve such a wretched fate.

Nothing? A voice sounding eerily like Godric wondered sceptically. You truly believe that?

He ignored the voice and continued his mathematics homework, reluctantly flipping through his textbook and noting down answers with a pen on yellow parchment.

(Paper, he corrected, not parchment.)

Salazar, or Samuel O'Brian as he was known nowadays, was currently fifteen.

He attended a respectable private school in England and was born from two utterly mundane parents.

He was mundane also.

Salazar Slytherin was reincarnated as a muggle.

Oh how the mighty have fallen.

𓆙

Sometimes he thought he could see ghosts of people he once knew.
Always they were tricks of the light or wishful thinking. Sometimes he found himself hoping to meet the reincarnations of his friends.

Even Godric? That small voice asked.

Even Godric. He confirmed begrudgingly.

Salazar didn't have many regrets.

But if he were to name his greatest regrets, his falling out with Godric would be among them along with the death of Astreafay, as well as Rowena and Helena's tragic fate.

Helga lived and died the happiest of the four.

He didn't have many regrets...

He lied.

In truth, Salazar had many regrets.

There was only so much pride a man could hold onto after death.

Death changed a person.

Everything was different after death.

While dead, the world of the living changed drastically. The magical had gone into hiding and the mundane lived mostly oblivious to the existence of their magical counterparts. There were no witch hunts or trials and endless, meaningless genocide.

(Even the muggles condemned genocide.)

There had been two world wars in the muggle world.

He wondered if the magical was involved also.

They must've been, he decided.

Muggles made insane technological advancements that Salazar himself still couldn't quite believe.

And the magical?

Salazar hadn't stepped foot into the magical world in years.

He still longed to though.

They could take the magic out of the man but they couldn't take the man's love of magic. He was still connected to a world he no longer belonged to, if only by memory.

But as he said before, death changes a person.

He wasn't a wizard anymore and as much as the truth pained him to admit, he had no choice to adapt.

He was still a Slytherin even without magic.

Death hadn't taken his cunning.

And it certainly wasn't finished with its surprises.

𓆙

Samuel worked at a café near his school.

He appreciated it especially since the owner was a witch.

And while not the most cunning of witches or purest in blood she was still very kind.

A Hufflepuff.

He could respect that.

Madame Queenie ("call me Quarter, dear!") was a credit to Helga's House.

She had a daughter.

And it was on that day when Salazar met her daughter that he realized there was more to his rebirth then he'd initially thought.

Because her daughter looked exactly like Rowena.

They locked eyes.

Furious eyes of icy blue clashed with dark grey.

Shite, Salazar thought as Rowena came a blazing.

"YOU."

He was going to die again, wasn't he?