"Shut it, ya French bastard!" Aelius shouted and he and Cato roared with laughter.

Sal, sitting on the other side of the fire, grinned as Guarin dived for Aelius and then returned to his journal. He lifted his legs to let the pair roll under them as they tussled playfully on the compacted earth.

He had not been sure of his companions at first. All three of them were from noble Wizarding families like the Hufflepuffs and he had been afraid that they would not take to his leadership. But they had.

In Sir Randolph he had found a father, in Helga a sister, and in Aelius, Cato and Guarin he had found brothers.

Aelius belonged to the Family Black. They had only recently received their riches and power, in fact it had been Aelius' grandfather who elevated the family, but that didn't mean that Aelius was any less of a fighter than the other two. He was strong and fearsome on the battlefield, most comfortable with a mace or morning-star instead of a sword. Unfortunately, he was also impatient and hot-headed.

If the four of them ever got into brawl with another faction in the campground, it would be because of Aelius' mouth.

Cato, on the other hand, was the quietest of the four. He was a Peverell; a name that meant little to Sal but was held in great respect by Aelius and Guarin.

And he was handsome. His face had an almost feminine beauty to it; delicately featured with eyes as blue and deep as the ocean waves. Oh, how the women of the camp loved him.

The four of them, being young, handsome and mysterious, were never left wanting for female companionship but Cato seemed capable of getting any of the women that fell under his hungry eye. It became part of the other three's morning routine to awake slightly earlier than he to see which camp follower or officer's daughter came scurrying out of his tent.

He must have left a string of bastards in a dozen or more families all across Northern Germany. The others must have too; even Sal had managed to father a child. The mother had died in childbirth and he, not knowing what else to do, had sent the sickly little thing back to Helga. How many children Cato had fathered was unknown.

On the battlefield he was nimble and quick enough but that was not the reason why he was part of their little ensemble. He had in his possession a cloak; a most magnificent cloak that turned the wearer completely invisible. According to family legend, he said, his great, great grandfather had received it from Death. It allowed him to pass unseen in enemy territory, gathering intelligence and finding secrets.

And finally, there was Guarin Malfoy. This was a name Sal had heard. Even he, little backwater bumpkin that he was, had known that the Malfoy family was one of the most powerful and influential Wizarding families that existed. Armand Malfoy had ridden at the right hand of King William I during the Norman invasion and had been richly rewarded for it. His name still carried a lot of weight, both in Britain and in continental Europe, and Guarin knew how to use it well. He was the oldest of six and he had been raised to be a gentleman and a diplomat since birth. His French name and heritage as also the reason for the charming nickname of "French Bastard" from the very English Aelius.

Sal had found his silvery hair and eyes and quiet voice unsettling at first but he had quickly learned exactly how valuable Guarin was.

Matilda was mad to have made Sal the leader of their little group. Nobody had known who Salazar Slytherin was when they arrived in the camp but all the leaders had known the name of Malfoy. Sal couldn't speak French, or German, or Latin. Guarin could. Sal had no idea how to behave in the presence of a king. Guarin did.

However, Guarin was patient and willing to teach. They had been out here for just a little over two years and, in that time, Guarin had slowly moulded Sal into a leader.

Sal himself was becoming more and more well known. The snakes upon his sword and his liking for green clothing had earned him a nickname amongst the foot soldiers of their allies - the Green Serpent. It had made him laugh the first time he heard it.

They had been aiding in the Wendish campaign across Northern Germany for some time now and, despite there only being four of them, they had garnered a reputation as a deadly and resourceful team. Nobody knew they were wizards but the commanders, but everybody knew that when they were sent on a mission they would succeed.

And there had been many, many missions.


A soldier marched up to their campfire and stood to attention.

"Herr Slytherin! The Count of Anhalt requests your presence!" he announced. Sal raised his eyebrows before stashing his journal back inside his pack and following the soldier across the camp.

The Count was a tall and handsome man; charismatic and a kind commander to his men. He was waiting outside his tent for Sal.

"Good evening, Young Slytherin," he said as Sal approached.

"Evening, sir. Do you have more orders?" Sal asked, standing beside him.

"No. I wish to discuss a more delicate situation with you," he said and pointed to the small pond that lay beside his tent. In the water, his younger children were playing.

"My daughter, Hedwig, she is like you," the Count said. "She has the Gift."

Sal looked at him in surprise. "Does it run in your family, sir?"

"Ja. My grandmother, my uncle, my sister. All were Gifted. Come, I shall have her demonstrate."

He called and one of his daughters raised her head and ran over to them. She was no more than seven or eight, her brown curls falling loosely over her shoulders. Her father spoke to her briefly in German and she smiled widely and clapped her hands together. When she brought them apart, butterflies made of golden sparks flew out. Her brothers and sisters screamed with delight as they flapped towards and spun about them. She giggled and, with a quick look back at her father and Sal, she ran back to join them.

"I want to know," the Count said, "if there is somewhere where she can be safe. If I cannot find her a magical tutor then I would rather send her somewhere she can be with others like her. The Pope does not like your kind and I have heard whispers that he may call for your extinction. I will not slaughter my own family nor my own people - even if it is his will."

Sal pondered this. "No, sir, I know of no such place where she would be safe."

"A shame," he said. "If such a place existed, I would send her in a heartbeat."

He sighed wearily. "There is one more reason I wish to speak with you. Summons have arrived for a grand council to be held at Acre to discuss what is to be done in the South. I have no intention of going; my business has always been here and not in the Holy Land. You should go, with your men, however. They may have need of you."


"Gentlemen, we're moving South to the Holy Land," Sal said as he arrived back at their small collection of tents.

They all groaned. "But it'll be bloody hot! We'll all roast in our armour!" Aelius snapped. Sal shrugged.

"Orders are orders," he said. "And Matilda did tell us to do as we were bid."

Cato folded his arms firmly and leant back, putting his boots up beside the fire. "Well, I'm not going anywhere until tomorrow."

They sniggered.

"Who is it tonight?" Sal asked.

Cato looked smug. "You'll see."

Sal grinned and went to sit down.

"Your fortune! Your fortune, sir?" a voice called. He looked over in its direction.

A girl was sitting on a crate, another before her. Her shawl was tightly wrapped around her and embroidered with what were supposed to be mystic symbols. People like her were common enough in the camps; Muggles who claimed to be mystics when really they did not have a drop of magical blood in their bodies.

"And you shall probably just promise me a beautiful wife with many children like all the others of your kind have tried to claim," he said, walking over to her.

She smiled at him. "Maybe, maybe not. If you want to hear sweet nothings about who you are going to marry then I suggest you find one of these others. I won't tell you about that; I will tell you the truth that is stamped across your soul."

He was intrigued, there was no denying it.

"Fine. Let us ask the standard questions," he said and sat down before her. "Will my name live on?"

"For centuries," she answered immediately. "Thousands shall bear it and more will know of it. Some will fear it; some love it; but your name shall never die."

She said it so sincerely that it did not even cross his mind that she could be making it up. She gave him a small encouraging smile and he found himself compelled to ask another question. A more typical question.

"Who shall I marry?"

"She who dreams of what will come to pass," she said. A sadness flickered across her face. "It shall bring you together but it will not be a blessing."

He sat back.

"Where shall I die?"

"Surrounded by the three dearest to you in the sanctuary you build together," she answered.

"When?"

Her eyes flicked to Guarin, Cato and Aelius still sprawled by the fire. "When your companions over there come to you again in another life. The first; you will recognise him at once. His family will be drawn to you in a way they cannot understand. They shall seek you out for guidance and wisdom and, in time, they will lead the others to you. The second shall not bear the name he bears now for it shall die in the male line. And the third will not recognise you for his true being has been hidden from him by a white-haired woman."

"When?" he repeated.

She smiled at him and leaned in close. "When a whole new land has been found beyond the western horizon. When a man tries to bring the world to its knees before a symbol of auspiciousness. When Man has left footprints upon the Moon. And not until your bastard son's blood has stained and broken the land twice," she whispered.


So, originally I planned for Sal and his friends to always have been in the Holy Land. However, when I was researching the Second Crusade, I clicked on one of the leaders of the Crusades at random and imagine my surprise when I saw he had a daughter named Hedwig.

Of course, then I simply had to start my four off in the Wendish Campaign, just so I could mention her. I like to think that she grows up to be the famous Hedwig in A History of Magic that Harry names his Hedwig after.

I have absolutely no idea what Medieval German was like so I have borrowed from Modern German. Apologies for the inaccuracies.

We've also thrown in a dash of prophecy/destiny. Because all good stories need some of that. :P

Please leave me a review and I'll see you in the next chapter!