Disclaimer: I own nothing....

Warning: Slash, AU after 4th book, Time travel

Thanks again to breuddwydioxz for being such a wonderful beta.

"Umm....Hi?"

Harry twitched self consciously, more than a little bit unnerved.

Only a few minutes ago Harry had still been laying down, dreading the time when he would be forced to open his eyes and look at the new horrors that doubtlessly awaited him.

He hadn't exactly been optimistic.

But nothing had come to disturb Harry from his fragile peace. No sudden explosion or flashes of pain. In fact, Harry's scar didn't even hurt. After a while just laying there became boring.

And so it was boredom, not a sudden surge of courage, that had Harry sitting up and staring into the eyes of a stranger.

A stranger who had stared right back. Who, minutes later, was still staring back.

Creeper.

On the other hand the strange man was also not trying to kill him, so perhaps allowances should be made.

Gulping, Harry tried again, "Hi? I'm Harry....Who are you?"

At this the man smiled, a slow, dreamy expression that seemed to creep onto his face, surprising them both. In spite of himself Harry gave a small grin back, and then sheepishly looked down at his hands.

He had to remember that smiling at perspective enemies was a no-no. Sometimes it aggravated them, sometimes it encouraged them...but mostly it was just not done.

Still...for a perspective baddie, he sure did have a nice smile.

Harry was torn from his musings when the strange man began to speak. And it didn't sound like he was speaking English either.

Harry shook his head helplessly and gave a little shrug, the international sign of 'huh' that even the strange man seemed to get.

This didn't seem to deter him though; if anything the man's smile got brighter.

***

He didn't speak English.

Glee welled up from the bottom of Salazar's stomach, threatening to pour over into unrestrained laughter.

He didn't understand English.

Another burst of joy accompanied this thought. Salazar found he had to suppress the urge to dance and shout with glee. And Godric thought he was too solemn. When something good happened he was perfectly capable of being happy. Right now he felt downright chipper.

Because this, this was good news. His boy would be so much easier to control, so much more dependent on Salazar with language as a barrier between him and the rest of the world. He would need Salazar for...well everything. And that was just how Salazar liked it.

Still, for now the language barrier was a hindrance. The spell Salazar was about to attempt was difficult, to say the least. It was magick at its most wonderful and most terrible, which meant it came with a rulebook too heavy for one man to lift.

One of them was that the child had to understand.

Oh, he could be tricked, that was practically a given. However, he could not be lied to. And, according to this particular sort of magick, speaking in a foreign tongue was akin to lying.

Which meant that certain actions were now necessary.

Sitting on his haunches Salazar shifted carefully, eyes never leaving his boy's, smile still on his face.

And slowly, oh so slowly, Salazar's hand went back to grip the hard wood of his wand. Before him the young man flinched, alarm painted across his face as his small hands scrabbled across the ground, looking for a weapon. When Salazar's wand came into view the young man's eyes widened further, and then in a flash hardened, as his hands still frantically searched.

So he was a wizard. Satisfaction surged through Salazar, a hint of a smirk now edging his lips. There were occasions when Salazar did not find himself completely discontent with the world at large. Today might end up being one of those days.

***

Sometimes, late at night when no one was around Harry thought about Those Days. The ones that changed everything. The ones where Voldemort, Dumbledore, or the Dursleys rocked the foundation of Harry's world. They weren't always bad, Those Days, but they were always frightening, terrifying even, in the way only the unknown could be. The future was always a scary thing.

The worst part about Those Days wasn't the nagging question of whether Harry would live through them (though he did consider that a viable concern). No, the worst part was that feeling in the pit of his stomach, like a coiling of unfriendly snakes, their scales rasping against each other until Harry felt nauseous.

He had that feeling now.

The strange man had his wand out, its dark wood flashing in the early morning sun, and Harry had to wonder if he was going to die.

But instead something like a small miracle happened. The wand turned away. No longer pointing at Harry it instead went up against the man's throat, just under the tip of his Adam's apple. Softly, three words were spoken, the man's dark eyes still bearing down on Harry's.

And then the strange man began to speak.

Hi! I want to thank everybody who reviewed last chapter...it was wonderful. Among those reviews were three that I have to mention.

First off Rae 0 and Durwen figured out what yew and blue cohosh represent and excentrykemuse who came up with the coolest idea that I wasn't smart enough to think up. Check out the review page to see her ideas!

Next up- Salazar plays evil nurse maid and Harry eats stew

Okay, I'll stop rambling now.

Thanks again, and please review!