A young boy cried out in pain as a hot poker made contact with his sickly flesh. "'m sorry.." He whimpered, half-sobbing. The woman wielding the poker only laughed. "D'you think that ye are a snake, boy? A snake, ta steal from them and get away with it, even though I give ya a handfuls of rice, every meal? After I gave ya, put clothes on ya and gave ya a roof under yer head? D'ya think ya can steal? DO YA?!" The boy whimpered again. He could not have been over seven years old. "Aunt... Forgive me.. Please... I didn't do no stealin'..." He tried to say, but cried out again when his aunt slapped him over where he had hit him before. She kicked him, then said viciously; "Get out! Get away from here! I ain't gonna take care of ya, ye ungrateful little brute! Just like yer parents, ye got no manners, no brains, no thanks!" With every few words, she gave him another slap. The boy felt himself growing scared and angry, the anger swelled inside him like a wave threatening to break the banks of action, sooner or later he knew his defences would break.
He didn't want to die. He wanted her to die. He hated her. She was no aunt of his. As she finished the sentence, his anger grew. He had never known his parents and had but the faintest memory of them, but they were good people. How dare she insult them! She had never know his father either. She delivered one more kick. His rage was almost uncontrollable. Again she tried to kick him. The banks burst and without warning there was a bang and some sparks. She flew backwards by a few minutes (Metres?). "Freak!" She called out again. He could barely think. He lay on the ground, whimpering and holding back tears. Darkness threatened to overcome him. He remembered her throwing him out. He felt the cold, freezing snow on his back and then knew no more.
When he next came to be he was in a big room, bigger than he had ever seen. It was stocked with potions in one corner. A man was standing over him. "He will live", he said. There were a few claps. Even in his foggy mind, he knew something was wrong. People were actually glad that he was surviving. When had he ever been wanted?
He came to again, still in the same room. Another man was standing over him. Behind the man was a boy, no older than he was. "Ah, he is conscious again. Godric, fetch a healer, would you?" The boy hurried of. They seemed to be very rich people. They spoke with all the posh accents typical of the upper class. The man smiled down gently at him. "What is your name, child?" He asked kindly. "M'name is Salazar, sir, Salazar Slytherin.", he said his voice wavering with slight uncertainty. It took him effort even to talk. He muttered, looking strangely troubled. Then his face brightened and, with some difficulty, he smiled at the boy, Salazar. "Well, Salazar, welcome to the House of Gryffindor." Even in his foggy mind he recognised the name. The Gryffindors were the overlords of the city and a good bit of the country surrounding it. Right good Lords they were, too. They gave money to all people living in a street, once a month. Two Galleons. Enough to keep them going for a good two years. "Sorry, m'lord. I didn't know 'twas ya." He struggled to get up, but Lord Gryffindor pushed him down again. "Salazar, you nearly died. No need to get up." Salazar was too weak to protest, so he lay down and stared at the ceiling, wondering how a poor lad like him was in the lord's house.
A few minutes later, Godric hurried in, followed by the man whom Salazar had seen earlier. "Ah, good. You are still awake. By tomorrow I'll let you out." Salazar smiled up weakly. "I don't want ta impose, m'lords... I will go out today."
Lord Gryffindor only smiled. "Salazar, I want to talk to you. Will you listen?"
Salazar replied, not knowing what else to say, "Ofcourse, m'lord. As you say, I do." Lord Gryffindor looked at Salazar seriously for a moment, then said, "Salazar, you should be dead from the beating you took. When we found you, you were lying on the snow, half-dead. That was two days ago." When he heard this, Salazar got up. "M'lord, my aunt.. She'll kill me! She beat me up M'lord, and I'll die if she.. Y'know, beats me up agin."
At this Lord Gryffindor's face turned graver. "So it was her?" Salazar clapped his hand over his mouth. "M'lord... I shouldn't have said that!" Lord Gryffindor only tried to smile reassuringly at Salazar. With a strong, yet gentil arm he pushed Salazar down again.
"Salazar, you should have died. She hit you with a poker and kicked you on that wound. We found you unconscious on the snow, which cooled the wound but gave you a high fever. We went to ask your Aunt and she said that you got beat up, came home and practised sorcery on her. But she was lying... I'm sure of it. If she took care of you, then you wouldn't have dreamt of accusing her. So tell me more about yourself.." He then knelt closer and softly whispered "Even the magic."
On seeing Salazar's fear, he tried his best to smile reassuringly. Again. Is he trying to REASSURE me? ME? Thought Salazar. Then, having thought as much as his seven year old brain could, said his story.
It took over an hour, but Lord Gryffindor was a patient man. He sat through tales of being beaten, starving and thrown out in the snow. He even heard about the times when Salazar's strange abilities had healed him unusually fast. He was shown scars all over Salazar's thin, bony body. The only time he was surprised was when Salazar told him how he could talk to snakes.
Once Salazar finished his sorry tale, Lord Gryffindor gripped the pommel of his sword. "Salazar, she will be punished.", he promised. Seeing Salazar's guilt, he said, "Child, you are young. It is wrong of her to do this. You do not understand the workings of justice. She had it coming." Salazar was not too reassured but anything was better than young boy, Godric, had been standing behind his father the whole time. His eyes too had widened and as the healer told Salazar to rest, he whispered something to his father.
The next day, Salazar woke up and was given new clothes as instructed by the healer, he went down to where Lord Gryffindor sat. "M'lord," he said, bowing down. "Lord Gryffindor waved a hand. "Justice has been served, lad."
"Thank'ee, m'lord", he said, happy that he was free of his aunt; but somewhere deep down he felt guilt as images of his dead aunt clouded his head. As a child, he didn't trouble himself with where he would go. For once he acted like the care-free child he was supposed to be. When Lord Gryffindor told him to sit, he sat and ate. He felt a strange feeling in his stomach, like he couldn't eat any more. Was he... Full? "Cor!" He exclaimed. Godric looked over to him and spoke the first words shared by the two future friends. "What?" He felt embarrassed as he said, "I actually felt full, m'lord." Godric looked surprised at this and then looked to his father for further instructions. His father simply smiled and said "Salazar, would you like to stay here? You will be Godric's companion and friend." The child nearly choked on the bread he was eating.
"Si.. I mean, m'lord? What? Are ya... Serious? Ye would keep me? I could.. Be full every meal?" The Lord laughed and nodded. Laughing, Salazar finished his breakfast and looked forward to a brighter future.