Fleeing the Fens
The village of Stonebridge a patchwork of fields and forests, hamlets and villages dotted in the patterns of foliage and farming, the odd cow lumbering through the landscape, snacking on the corn and barley of the fields. The birds would twitter in the trees and rabbits would graze upon the lush meadows. The peace rarely punctuated by the wandering muggle down a dirt track, going to the bridge that the village was named after to pass into the land of other villages for trade.
But the bridge that had been the village's namesake for decades was gone, crumbled and washed away by the river Obfirmo, which had burst its banks for the first time in four decades. The recent rainfall had been horrendous, drowning the crops and sending the normally peaceful village into disarray. Only one person seemed to be happy with the sudden flooding of the village, she lived in her old cottage on the top of a hill over looking the village.
Cassiopeia Slytherin
She lived above the village where very few ever dared to go, cared only by her grandson who was now well into manhood, she had been there longer than anyone could ever remember, each and every person in the village being younger than her by a considerable amount. They rarely dared going near her domain, for fear they would perhaps catch the madness that riddled the woman's brain, it would surely addle their minds.
When she turned up in the flooded streets of the village her cackles could be heard from end to end, her grandson trailing after her, trying to pull her back, whispering things unheard by the other villagers into her ear. He was a tall, dark haired man, a small beard at the tip of his chin, piercing silver eyes that were hard to distinguish their exact gaze. He was a slight man, but strong enough in build, none of them knew that he practiced magic in the home of his grandmother. They had always suspected witchcraft of the crazy old woman, but not her polite grandson, who had always gone about his business undisturbed.
Cassiopeia stumbled through the streets, a travelling cloak wrapped around her frail shoulders, her green eyes sweeping the sodden streets and inhabitants.
"Do you see Salazar?" she cried in delight as she hobbled nearer to the where the river had overflowed, all of the eyes on her, none of them able to see anything remarkable, just lots of water, filthy water.
"Grandmother come home now," her grandson, Salazar said, trying to gently guide her form away, though she remained stubborn and determined to tell everyone what she could see.
"It is what your mother always said, don't you see Salazar?" she laughed manically, dancing around in the water that sloshed about her legs, soaking the end of her robes. "The Obfirmo has come to cleanse the land, cleanse the village of all impure, the magic has been unleashed yet again Salazar, can you see?"
"Did she say magic!" grunted a local farmer, carrying his roughly hewn tools across his broad shoulders. "This is witchcraft, that woman has ruined our crops, she's a witch, it's what we always feared!" He raised his spade into the air, crying to the village, shouts of witchcraft and damnation, their voice joined with him as they advanced on the old woman and her grandson.
"Leave her alone!" Salazar shouted at the hoard, each and every one of them wielding something large and bulky. "Leave her alone, this is madness!" his voice had raised to a crescendo of anger as they advanced on his grandmother, who was still cackling at the waters of the Obfirmo. His silver eyes flashed with danger as a few of the villagers broke into a run, attacking Cassiopeia with their weapons.
"LEAVE HER BE!" he roared, lifting his hands to jump in and save his grandmother, a thin stick was produced from the folds of his cloak and he brandished it at the attacking villagers, who were stuck in a brawl that was highly undignified over such a frail old woman. Injuries on all of them as the old witch hexed and cursed under the onslaught.
Salazar pushed his way through the crowd, dodging the sticks, the blades and spades, hexing those he could and pushing the others out of the way with quite some difficulty. Before soon the villagers were all so hexed only a few remained hacking at the remains of the old woman, who lay in a crumpled heap upon the floor. By now the rest of the village had heard the shouting and had come to watch the spectacle.
A whistle of a passing bird broke the painful silence that hung over the street as the man saw the broken form of his grandmother, a look of shock on his face at her slumped body amongst the broken wood and blades of different length.
"I told you to leave her alone," he said quietly, his back to the villagers, all of them could hear him. His icy, silver eyes watched the water gently lap at the hem of his cloak.
"Look what you've done," he whispered, watching the silvery waters lapping to and fro, cleansing the dirt beneath his feet and washing it into the streets. The Obfirmo has come to cleanse the land, the magic has been unleashed. Salazar studied the water carefully, its purpose to cleanse the land.
"Cleanse the land of you, MURDERERS!"
He screamed the last word to the sky, his wand securely in his hand as they both rose into the air, the water rising behind him summoned by his tumult of furious magic to be unleashed, as though the wand were a baton controlling the elements. A giant sloshing mass rising feet higher behind him into a muddy wall of water, the reflections dancing off of his silvery eyes that burned with malice as he turned to face his grandmother's tormentors.
The villagers stood rooted to the spot, terrified beyond all measure as a single being managed to summon upon the water of their river that had so dutifully cared for them for so long.
"Cleanse the land, like you were destined to do," Salazar cried in a theatrical and eerie voice, as he threw forward his outstretched arms, releasing the wall of water that had stood sentinel behind him.
The water gushed down the dank streets that had been sodden for a week already, the villagers screamed as the wall of water fell upon them like some terrifying monster, threatening to engulf them and wash them away to some unknown land. Salazar laughed as it submerged each and every one of the crowd in front f him as the watchers ran back to their homes, smaller waves tailing them all of the way, silver fish darted in and out of the water. Another flick of his wand and they all had poisonous teeth, infected with some deadly disease that nipped amongst the ankles of every being in the village.
As the swell of the ebbing water fell, travelling slower throughout the village some of the other villagers that had not taken the full brunt of the savage cascading torrent, advanced upon Salazar, swords drawn. Mutters about sorcery and damnation buzzed through their numbers as they brandished their weapons somewhat nervously, a couple of them led horses and others were fetching back up.
All against one man.
"What do you want of us sorcerer?" asked one of the men, he was bearded and held a long sword, his clothes were sopping and his legs bled profusely, from the bites of the fish.
"I have no need of you murderers, what could I possibly want of such people," drawled Salazar scathingly, knowing full well that many if not all of the people before him would be dead by nightfall, from the disease ridden waters.
"Kill him!" shouted some old woman from the back of the mob, jumping up and down brandishing a gnarled stick. "He and his witch friend have plagued our land, kill him!"
The mob needed no reasoning, in their eyes it was the fault of the man before them that they had no crops, no livelihood and now no village, whilst what they had left was being washed down the lane. They charged at Salazar screaming, as they had done with his grandmother who was a senile old witch. Unluckily for them Salazar was not old, or senile, he had a wand in his hand and had just discovered the extent of his powers, power to control the elements was no mean feat.
He battled through the crowd of villagers whom he had previously lived peacefully side by side, as blades and sticks descended upon his tall, slim form he brandished his wand like a sword, sweeping motions departing the crowds, before jabbing at them with hexes. Many ran back, angry boils spurting onto their faces and burns along their arms.
Salazar managed to battle his way through the crowd of fifty strong, to one of the grey stallions that had been led here by one of the fray, with a swift jump he landed in its back and kicked it hard in the side. The horse reared on its hind legs, front hooves flailing dangerously as Salazar took the reigns firmly in his hands, pulling the horse around to face the running water of the Obfirmo.
The horse's gigantic form, cleaved through the villagers with ease, knocking many aside with its muscular and powerful legs, its head waving to and fro as it galloped towards the river. Salazar leant into the horse as he braced himself for the jump which the horse almost failed to accomplish; its hind legs, splashing into the raging waters, sending it stumbling from the cascading white waters.
"Whooooah," yelled Salazar as the horse made to gallop off towards the hillside, where there was green grass aplenty.
The horse halted obediently as Salazar dismounted smoothly, his worn boots sinking into the slightly muddy ground. He slapped the stallions flank as a sign for it to go, which it did happily, shooting off up the hillside before settling down to graze against the backdrop of the setting sun.
Salazar stood upon the grassy bank of the riverside and watched the village that had once been his home. The bells of the old Church tolled out loud and fast, its panic toll. Children could be heard crying, protesting as they were put to bed by their weary mothers. The sun was just finishing its descent when Salazar sat and began his watch over the village, his cool grey eyes surveying each and every building in turn. The pub was quiet and empty, some barrels outside just left to sit. Gradually each and every light from the small thatched houses were snuffed out.
The next morning, only three houses were once more illuminated.
Salazar's grey eyes searched the streets where his grandmother had died in battle against the angry muggles, where they had mercilessly attacked him, which he retorted with surprising skill and brutality. The road was stained with blood from his terrible deed, mixing with the mud and filth of the village that had been washed there by the Obfirmo. As he rose from the grassy bank, he summoned upon the power of the water once more, sending it down the street, washing away the mud and the blood, before leaving it clean.
He stepped down to the bank, having spotted something glittering and shiny, like a magpie he was drawn towards its glow. A small silver, perfectly oval deposit had been left on the banks of the swelling water. Pleased with his findings Salazar pocketed it before walking back to his vantage point, turning back towards the now clean streets.
"Mudblood," he murmured before setting off up the hill, calling upon the grey stallion and galloping across the countryside, in search of a new beginning.