So, this chapter is about Salazar. The continuation to it is in chapter four, that it's about Helga. I don't have a beta and I don't own Harry Potter.

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Salazar watched as his mother impaled herself, her knees supported by the couch. The man whose piece of manhood was inside his mother body was a pile of fat, which made the bony body of his mother much more evident. It was disgusting, but Salazar could really say who – his mother, the whore, sold herself to food, which made everything pathetic, the poor attempt of living a life that was just agony; the man had to pay for someone to make sex with him and he was much more pathetic, shouting and moaning as if that was the heaven. Salazar snorted; surely, being impaled by a corpse wasn't the heaven.

Actually, the man was the real disgusting one, Salazar concluded.

He didn't love his mother, but he understood her. He had banned the thought of loving her, as he knew he had ruined her life and one of them would die in one year or two. He understood that she had been too prideful to kill him in a desperate attempt of living, and had too much pride to just die, to just admit defeat to life. It was foolish of her, but admirable. So, he couldn't bring himself to be bothered by all those sweat. Because it would be disrespectful to dishonor his mother pride, and he liked her enough to not disrespect – well, at least, he owned her for not killing her baby after his father had left.

When they had arrived at Hoff, Salazar was four. He had some memories of wide rivers, green forest and soothing breezes; fertile fields that weren't so common in the coastal village. But, certainly, he had none of his father. His mother had told him he had left her the same day he was born, after trying to kill his son and his lover. His father was disgusted by the idea of magic, his mother had explained.

Salazar pulled the board, closing the hole through which he peered. Turning around he made a face to the small girl who gave him a happy and innocent smile. With those dark blonde curls and honey eyes, the child was surprisingly annoying. "Is Aunt Dreda in pain? I can help." She offered, taking out the wand of her grandaunt, which Salazar quickly hid in her dress.

"No, silly. She has just accomplished a really difficult spell. But don't take your wand here, your parents already warned you." The six-year girl froze under his hard gaze, bowing her head. "Sorry."

"Yes, you are right to be. Now come, I've to bring you to your parents and then go to work." Taking the hand of the little girl, Salazar came out of the alley. Salazar swore to himself, Hoff Village was one of the most restless villages in Wales and it wasn't safe to let a magical child alone, her parents should have known.

"But I want to go with you!" The girl whined. Oh, maybe her parents did know about the risks, but she had escaped from them, it wouldn't be a surprise, with all those siblings she had, if her mother lost the track of one. And being her wasn't a surprise; she was like a real pixie sometimes. The girl was strangely attached to Salazar. It was as if she knew that if she didn't befriend him, he would have no friends.

Salazar wouldn't be surprised if she knew. The girl was annoying, sure, but she was also quite perceptive to one's emotions. And kindhearted. He didn't like pity, but he also knew she didn't feel pity for him.

"No, Helga. You are six, you must stay at home. Go help your mother attending your brothers, but I have to work. And don't do magic."

The wizard grabbed her wrist, pulling her through the market until she dug her feet onto the ground, with a pout. "I want to help you! Mum has Sasha and Edith to help her, you have no one." Impatient, Salazar brought the girl to his shoulders, carrying her again while she struggled.

"You will tire me, Helga, if you continue to struggle and then I won't have any force to finish my work. You won't be helping." Finally, the girl shut up and began to hum a pretty melody that Salazar had never heard, not that he had heard many.

The song was peaceful, a bit too light to the boy's tastes, but refreshing. He knew that her mother must have sung it to her before and felt a little jealous of the girl, as his own mother only changed a dozen of words with him and none of them were a little harmonic. But it didn't last, the girl was simply too innocent to have any ill-thought against her.

The streets of Hoff were narrow and dirty, a terrible smell of putrefy and lees mixed with salt spray made everything the image of Hell and at summer, the hotness of the Sun was added. But the two of them had their bubble of safety, the bright smile that Helga showed to everyone and the affection he held only for her. Brother and sister segregated by blood, but connected by heart. Connected by magic;

Messing with her hair, the boy kneeled in front of the girl, smiling softly. "I don't need help to do my work, prat, but if I needed, you would be the first I'd go to." He humored her before shoving her into her house.

-x-

Salazar worked at the docks. It was a rough work and one of the most deadly you could have, with all those diseases the ocean brought; but he was a wizard, and wizard were immune to muggles diseases most of time. Besides, the water was his reign and he loved the power he had over it, and working in the docks avoided most of the suspicious glances he could have received when he appeared drenched.

And if some drops of water were floating slightly above the sea, who cared?

And if a wave went against the wind, again, who cared?

Nobody but the one who did it, certainly.

Obviously, the work wasn't all perfect. The children of the fishermen didn't like very much, but loved to taunt him about his mother job. And the fact he wasn't from Hoff didn't help.

That was one of those days when they decided it was time to taunt him again. Salazar had already reached his knife when Roran, Horos, Ned, Johann and Pete had surrounded him. He wasn't stupid, he knew that not reacting would make them bolder, and that using magic would bring death to him, so Salazar had learned to use knives. He was very fast and had good-reflexes, so it wasn't difficult. All he had to do was to swing the knife to touch one of their throats, the others would stop and them he would make them leave for good.

Salazar followed all those steps easily, but he didn't count with the stupidity of the rest of the group. So, while his blade restrained Horos, Roran decided that Salazar didn't have what he needed to kill his cousin and attacked.

Soon, Salazar found himself looking to a stabbed leg, where he had cut Roran. His hands were dripping blood but his knife was again in his pockets. He had to run, as the others were ready to get their revenge and while Salazar was fast, he wasn't strong as were Pete and Ned. And he ran.

The village became blurry as the wizard ran, restraining himself of just soaking the others with a wave and, maybe, drowning them in the sea. He stroke men and women down, shouting apologies and receiving insults and swearing in response. He knocked out countertops and products in the market and ran into fish buckets twice.

And then, everything was over. In front of his mother and Salazar's tiny hut there was a woman. A naked woman. Her crumbly brunette hair dirtied by blood and sweat, and her bones too visible. From her neck, two long trails of blood started to dry, but the body was very much dead, the gray eyes of the corpse staring at him. Elisabeth from Alsea. His mother.

Salazar felt one warm tear running through his face before kneeling beside her, feeling her pulse. Dead. Surely dead. His mother was dead. The one who had mercy on him, the one who had sold herself for him. And he couldn't think anything else than that while he hid in his pockets her wand.

And then, he saw it. A medium adder, sliding through her body. He didn't know exactly how he did know it was a snake, much less an adder, as he had never saw neither of them, but he knew. It would attack, he could see it, retreating in a hunter pose, getting ready to pounce. He could hear the steps of the other kids coming close.

/Help me!/ He shouted.

The snake attacked.

He turned to see Johann pressed against the wall, the adder with its fangs into his flesh. And then, it retreated, sliding next to Salazar, who stood there, frozen. And he was surrounded by eyes, reproving eyes.

/As you wish, speaker./ it hissed, wrapping itself around his waist. The boy took a breath. It had spoken.

The snake had spoken. And he could see that only he understood.

He had done magic. In front of a dozen of people.

Salazar, born in Slidrian Cave at the wizarding day of Innan, had killed someone. Also in front of the same dozen of people.

"Devil! Devil's whore!"

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