"Get out of my house, you dirty witch!"
"No, please, don't send me away! I've never done anything wrong, I swear!"
"How many innocent people have you sacrificed for your rituals? How many people have you manipulated with your spells?"
"I would never use my magic on others for my own gain. You know me, you know I would never do anything to hurt anyone!"
"I thought I knew you, but now I know that you're nothing but a filthy witch!"
Salazar covered his ears with his hands to block out the sound of his mother and grandfather fighting. Ever since the untimely death of Salazar's father his grandfather had come to live with them. Though his parents had loved each other, his grandfather hated his mother. They always fought, but never to this extreme. He knew something was wrong, but the young twelve year old was too scared to enter the house to try to stop them from yelling, so instead he sat on the cold stone step at the back of the building alone.
"No! If you tell them then they will kill me! They'll kill Salazar!"
"Salazar has your blood in him, Witch, he must be burned with you!"
"NO! Stop! Stop! Please, don't do this!"
Salazar heard the sounds of struggling from in the house, then a door slamming. He sat still for a few seconds, not sure of what to do. Then his mother burst out the back door and grabbed him by the shoulders.
"Salazar, listen to me very carefully, we don't have much time," his mother's green eyes were filled with terror as they stared into his. "Very soon the whole village is going to come after us. They . . . want to hurt us."
"Why?" Salazar felt his heart clench up in fear.
"Salazar . . . the people here don't understand us. We scare them because . . . we're different."
Salazar nodded slowly. Ever since last year he had developed strange abilities, powers his mother said were magic.
"Salazar, look at me." His mother's voice was getting more and more urgent. "The villagers hate people with our gifts. You know of the witch burnings, don't you, Salazar?"
The young boy nodded again.
"Well, those people they burn . . . They're people like us."
Suddenly angry yells reached the pair's ears.
"They're coming, Salazar! There's no time!" His mother took off her long cloak and wrapped it around her son's shoulders. "Hurry, hide in the bush. Whatever you do, do not let anyone see you. They will kill you!"
Salazar stood frozen in place, but his mother prodded him towards the large bush by their house. She pulled his hood down over his head and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
"I love you very much." A tear slid down the woman's face.
"I love you too, Mother," Salazar replied as he slipped into the bush, concealing himself.
The sounds of angry villagers approaching grew louder, and with one final glance at her son Salazar's mother drew away from the bush.
"There she is! There's the witch!" a voice yelled.
Salazar peeked between the branches of the bush and was shocked to see that it was his own grandfather that was leading the mob.
"And you're sure she is a witch? Your son was married to her for five years!" One of the villagers said.
"She is a witch! I've seen her perform her witchcraft with my own eyes! In fact for the five years that my son was married to her she has kept him under a powerful curse! That is the reason he thought he loved her, but she is really a hideous hag in disguise!"
Salazar felt a deep and bitter rage well up inside him as he watched the scene. How could his grandfather lie like this? His mother had never done anything wrong, but now he was turning her over to the villagers!
"Where is Salazar?" his grandfather hissed.
"He's not here," his mother replied firmly. "You will not touch him!"
"Grab her!" a tall man with a bushy beard yelled, and two of the men from the mob rushed over and grabbed Salazar's mother.
"No!" she screamed. "Please, you don't understand! I never held my husband under a curse! I loved him!" She struggled against the grip of the villagers, tears streaming down her face. "You have to believe me!"
"Silence, Witch!" Bellowed the bearded man. "You," he pointed to a group of men, "get some wood, we must burn this witch!"
No! Salazar thought, but he couldn't say it out loud; he was rooted with fear.
"No! No!" Salazar's mother screamed. "You all know me! We've lived here for years and I've never done anything wrong! Please you have to-"
The bearded man struck the woman with the back of his hand, cutting off her words. "Silence, Witch!"
"The witch has a magical wand, take it or she will cast a curse on us!" Salazar's grandfather commanded.
The bearded man started searching Salazar's mother. He pulled a slender piece of wood from her skirt pocket, and handed it to the old man. Salazar's grandfather nodded approvingly.
"Take her away."
The villagers started dragging Salazar's mother away from the house and into the village square. Salazar crept out of the bush and followed quietly behind them, despite his mother's words to stay hidden. He watched in horror as the villagers tied his mother to a large wooden post and started stacking firewood around her.
"Please, please don't . . ." the woman pleaded, tears streaming down her face.
The crowd started shouting angrily, blocking out her cries.
"Burn the witch!"
Salazar's grandfather grabbed a torch from one of the villagers and held it up in the air triumphantly. "Today we will purge the village of this evil!"
"No!" Salazar screamed, but his voice was drowned out by the roar of approval from the crowd.
"This is for my son, you filthy witch," the old man hissed, and with that dropped the torch on the bundles of sticks.
Instantly the fire spread and whooshed into the air, its flames licking the sky, and a pillar of black smoke coming from it.
Salazar could hear his mother shrieking. Her cries were so piercing, so awful, it was unlike anything Salazar had ever heard before.
"NO!" Salazar screamed and ran forward, pushing his way through the crowd. He jumped forward, tackling his grandfather and knocking him to the ground.
"I'll kill you!" he yelled, closing his fists around the man's neck. "You'll pay, muggle!"
"Get off me, you dog!" Salazar's grandfather knocked him off and got to his feet. "This one has the witch's blood too! We must kill him to ensure the evil doesn't spread!" He called to the crowd.
The villagers encircled Salazar, shouting and putting pitchforks and blades at him.
"Get away from me! I'll kill you all! YOU'LL PAY FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE!" Salazar screamed. Suddenly a wave of energy rose from the ground, knocking the villagers off their feet. Salazar paused, unsure of what he had done. He shook his head to try to clear it, and rushed towards the pillar of flames.
"Mother? Mother!" Salazar cried. All he could make out in the flames was a husk of a person. His mother was dead. "No . . ."
Salazar backed up, and felt his foot kick something. He looked down and noticed a piece of wood on the ground; his mother's wand. The young boy picked it up slowly and slid it into his pocket. It was the only thing of his mother that he had left now, the rest was burnt to ash.
"Get him!"
Salazar turned to see that the villagers had regained the consciousness and were coming towards him. Salazar turned and started running. He tore through the village square and flew through and alleyway. He could hear the sounds of the angry mob chasing him. His heart started racing and his breaths started coming out ragged.
I just need to get to the forest; if I get there I can lose them . . .
Salazar jumped over a fence and rushed up the hillside. The forest was just ahead of him, but the sounds of the mob were getting closer. Salazar spared a glance over his shoulder just in time to see an arrow zoom past his ear. The young boy gave a yelp and put on an extra burst of speed, crashing into the forest. Branches grabbed at his cloak, but he pushed past them. He took a few sharp turns and then found himself tumbling down a hill. He fell at the bottom in a heap, bruised and breathing heavily.
The only thing he could hear was his own breath. He waited for a few minutes, but no one came. He'd lost the villagers.
Salazar got to his feet, all of what had just happened finally settling in. The villagers, his own grandfather, had killed his mother. They had burned her at the stake, just because she could do things they couldn't. Burning tears started pouring down Salazar's cheeks. He hated them, all of them. Muggles had done this to him, so he would never trust a muggle again. They were all the same. They all deserved to be punished.
Salazar was on his own now. He wasn't sure how he was going to last, but he did know one thing: the muggles would pay, one way or another. He would make sure of it.