Salazar sat on a fallen log and concentrated as his father drew the runes on the ground again absently. He tilted his head to get a better look at his father's face, the dark brows were drawn down and his habitual smile was gone. Catching sight of the nine year old's stare, he sighed and shifted so they were face to face. "Close your mind, Salazar," he hissed, "keep me out." Salazar did as he was told, pulling up shields they had been working on for years and shutting out his father's attack. The older man smiled faintly and nodded, "Your mother will be waiting for us."

The world swirled together and faded into a soft flickering light and Salazar sat curled next to his mother in front of the warm fire's glow. She hummed contentedly and ran her fingers through his long hair as he listened, letting her humming and the crackling fire lull him to sleep.

His mother woke him in the early hours of the morning. She moved with swift assurance, clad still in just a nightgown, yet Salazar could see a deep fear lurking behind her eyes and dread settled into his chest. His father had the hidden bookshelf open and was stuffing the books into a small moleskin bag, darting nervous looks out the small paneled window at regular intervals. His mother knelt down in front of him and took his face between her hands, "My little Salazar. You are the light of my life." She kissed him on the forehead and pulled pack, her hands slipping down to his shoulders. "Mother?" She shook her head and her eyes glistened with the tears that threatened to spill down her face. She pulled him in and hugged him tightly.

His father had finished with the shelf and was now staring out into the darkness, his face shadowed. His hands were trembling. "I love you," his mother whispered into his ear, "your father loves you." His father turned, caught his eyes and nodded. His father's occlumency shields flickered for a moment and Salazar saw the dark fear turn to determination as he stepped closer. His mother continued to whisper "Now we need you to be brave. You need to do everything your father has taught you. Close your mind; don't let them see your thoughts."

A sudden shout rang through the night and the glow from many torches lit the darkness around the little house. His mother stood quickly and exchanged a glance with his father, who moved to take her place at Salazar's eye level. "Son." He blinked rapidly and the fear surged in Salazar's stomach. "My brother has found us. He needs you to gain access to the family magics. Use that." He placed the strings of the small pouch around Salazar's neck, where it shimmered for a moment before disappearing. The shouting was growing louder, "Remember, your mother and I love you beyond anything else in this world." He kissed him on the same spot his mother had.

A crash made Salazar jump, breaking him from his fear-filled stillness and he clung tightly to his father. His mother now used a shard of the vial she had just broken to draw random patterns on the ground with the bubotuber pus that had been inside of it. "Those aren't runes," he whispered to his father, who shook his head. "We've concentrated our magic on you. We don't want it to be pulled away by stray runes. So long as you are the only heir of our bloodline, my brother cannot cause your death." Salazar choked on the air he was breathing, barely catching his father's hiss, "I love you."

His mother pulled him away gently and held out a rope. The flickering of the torches now illuminated the coming mob and his father moved quickly. He grabbed the rope and tied Salazar to the side of the bedpost in the center of the swirls of bubotuber pus. His mother smeared berry juice on his face, and Salazar started crying. "Survive, my son. That is our request of you. Survive and find joy," his mother dried her tears and drew herself up.

The door shattered as a heavy hammer was driven through it and his father pulled a knife from the drawer next to the bed. The rest of the door was kicked from its hinges and three angry villagers burst into the room. The blacksmith's eyes widened when he caught sight of Salazar tied to the bed. "Be cunning, my youngling, I can only give you this," the knife in his father's hand flashed in the torchlight as he turned to glare at the intruders. Salazar curled as close as he could to the post and whimpered a small "help me."

Grimmauld Place: 1995

Harry woke up to Ron's worried face. He blinked blearily up at him for a moment before he recognized that the redhead was trying to talk to him. "Wha?" Ron stopped talking for a second before trying again, "You alright mate? Do I need to get Sirius?" Harry sat up, "No, no. Just a weird dream." Ron narrowed his eyes and Harry shook his head, the dream was already fading and the details had become fuzzy, "Just a weird dream."

"Right then." He slid towards the door, "You up for breakfast then? I'm pretty sure I smell bacon." Harry grinned, jumped out of bed, and pushed away the odd sensation of having forgotten something.

They ran into Fred and George loitering near the kitchen entrance. Harry tried to stifle a chuckle at their glittering, bright green robes. "Where's the party?" The twins turned to smirk at Ron, "Someone hexed our clothes." "Now we need to return the favor."

"What? It wasn't me!"

"We never said it was, brother dearest. Much as we appreciate your innate talent with charms…" Harry snorted and the twins grinned, "This is a bit too complex for you."

"Oi!"

"And Hermione doesn't usually approve of such things..."

"Granted, she's terrifying when she wants to be."

"So it must be someone from the Order. Gred thinks Tonks is the culprit."

"Forge is blaming Bill."

They swung the door open and walked in, with Harry and Ron following behind. Fred and George sat down casually across from Bill, who was staring intently at a small burn on the table. Harry nudged Ron and nodded his head over to the end of the table where Sirius was eyeing the twins with amusement. "Bet you it was Sirius, he's been a lot more cheerful since we've been here." "Mate, that's entirely your fault. But it's time to eat," Ron flopped himself down into a chair and started piling his plate with food. Harry smiled and dropped into the seat next to him, making sure to grab a little bit before Ron claimed it all.

Thank you for the reviews I've gotten, though I haven't replied. I'm still trying to decide exactly where I want to go with this fic, and some major plot points are still in flux. I do want to let you all know that updates are going to be irregular as I work out which way I want to go for this story. I am going to keep working on it, and I plan to finish it. Thank you all.