A/n- I appolgize sincerely. You see, I often don't get time to type on the computer, with out my parents hovering over me, or my brother kicking me off. But, summer is here now, and I can write, write, write!

Disclaimer- Why do I have to write this thing? I mean- ::gets dragged away by Warner Brother thugs:: All characters are based on the books by J. K. Rowling, and are the sole property of her and Warner Brothers. Happy now?

In the center of the marsh lived an oracle. No one knew, or could even hazard a guess of her age. She was master of the court magicians of Egypt during Moses's time, remembered the invention of flying carpets, and spoke fondly of Merlin as a young boy.

The odd thing about her, besides her age, was how young she looked. She looked hardly a day over twenty, with long, auburn hair and shiny blue eyes. Any one close enough to feel her aura could tell she was a powerful witch. Her name was Persephone Dumbledore, but she was called in awe La vieille fille, the old girl

.Her tent was violently purple , and smelt of dust older then the earth itself. Rich carpets covered the damp earth, and magical artifacts adorned the walls.

She sat, drinking tea in her tent when Adrian and Accalia came. "Come in," she called happily to the couple.

"I told you not to see me until Salazar was fifteen," she said accusingly, looking into her tea cup. "He is only seven."

Accalia boldly spoke up. "You also told us to come to you when two of the signs happened in a day. And four happened within the span of two minutes."

The seer gave a small gasp, and promptly broke her tea cup. She crossed herself, called out to Allah, and quickly said the kaddish. Regaining her poise, she asked, "Which signs were they?"

"The skull of green and silver destroyed by the phoenix, the wand of death, and a quarter of the wands in Ollivander's shop landing at his feet."

"And the fourth?"

Accalia hesitated. "We…did not exactly hear the fourth sign. Salazar told us that he heard Mr. Ollivander mutter 'Mordsmorde', but we did not."

"The wand of death?"

Adrian gulped. "His wand, so named by Mr. Ollivander."

"And the skull and phoenix?"

"When he waved his wand, green and silver sparks filled the air, and formed a skull. Then, a wand with phoenix feather in it destroyed it."

The oracle bit her lip and spoke. "You must raise Salazar as normally as possible. Maybe by doing that, the fifth sign will never happen."

Five years later…

The day dawned clear and bright, completely unaware of the storm clouds that were swiftly gathering in the distance.

Salazar snoared gently as his governess, Olga, came bursting into his room, her arms full with laundry.

Olga was a short, plump witch. Her gray and red hair was piled underneath her witch's hat in a messy bun. She had a perfectly cheery disposition- maybe a bit too cheery.

"Rise and shine!" she bellowed, placing her laundry down with a thud! on a green cushioned ebony chair. "It's a beautiful morning, and there you are, wasting it away in bed! You only have one life, and it's best to make the best of it!"

She hurried around the room, opening the thin shutters that covered the narrow windows. Golden sunlight poured into the room in narrow slits, causing Salazar to roll over and groan.

"Can't I sleep a bit longer? Please?"

"No! Come on then! You have your lesson with Professor Damathic this morning- he's number- what, five?"

"No- sixth." Salazar counted on his fingers. "Madam Nosy-eyes, Madam Twitch, Professor Vulture, Madam Sinister, and Professor Lack-wit."

"You always have the fondest nicknames for your Professors. Your parents went off to see the oracle again."

"What else is new?"

"The fact that your breakfast is getting cold."

As Salazar pulled on his green robes and silver rope, he looked at them in disgust. "Green and silver, green and silver. Just once I'd like to wear red and gold."

Olga suddenly looked serious. "You cannot."

"Why not?"

"Those are the colors of the Griffindor family, and if Artos found out, he'd be mad."

"So?"

Olga sighed. Salazar was the only person who could test her patience. "He's an expert in transfiguration and he'll turn us all into flies and squash us. Now get up and get dressed."

White bunnies hopped across field. Hedgehogs scampered around the village. Children ran around joyfully, laughing and singing. And Salazar was stuck inside the stuffy parlor, the windows all tightly closed.

"Mr. Slytherin, will you at least look like you are paying attention?"

Salazar stared at his Professer's over large nose, pale skin and bald hair. I think I shall call him Professor Buzzard, he thought lazily, and drawled out loud, "Why?"

Professor Damathic's eyes flashed, as he turned around to shuffle his notes on why potion making is essential. "Le petit, laid, garcon…" he muttered.

"The peteet laid mars on? What does that mean?"

The Professor spun around. "It's Le petit laid garcon. It's french, and never you mind what it means. Now, can you go back to transfigurating your book, sil-vous plait?"

"See voo play? What does that mean?"

Professor Snape slapped his forehead. "Sil-vous plait! It's French and it means please!"

"Why don't you try speaking English all the time, so we won't have this problem?"

"Because, I just spent a year their, and I'm used to speaking it!!" he yelled, with more than a hint of exasperation in his voice.

There was a pause. Salazar then spoke. "Why does it take you a quarter of an hour to teach me how to do this?" With that, he waved his wand, and his book changed into a scroll.

Snape gaped, and quickly regained his poise. "Eh bien, you might be able to do that, but you must learn the theory, so you can figure out how to do this!" He then swiftly turned into a big, black crow, and back.

"What use is that?" asked Salazar. 'It's much more practical to know how to do this." He waved his wand, and the scroll on his desk turned into a beautiful cake. He waved it again, and his quill turned into a fork. He grinned, and took a big bite. "Would you like a piece?"

A vexing quarter of an hour later, in which Professor Snape tried to explain the valors of herbology, the Professer stomped out of the parlor.

"C'est impossible!" he cried. "I have taught Godric Gryffindor, Mortimor Under-wood, and Johnathan Baker - all gifted, all a bit eccentric, but not as bad as that! I do not deserve to be treated like this!"

Olga, looking startled, stammered out, "The mistress and master won't be back for a while. Perhaps you would like some tea and cake and we can talk it over?'

"The last thing I want is cake!" he screamed, as he stormed up the stairs. Olga heard the sounds of packing and French curses.

The professor stomped downstairs, his trunk floating in front of him. It landed with a bang! on the floor in front of him. "You can inform the mistress and master that I QUIT!" he shouted, before Apparating away.

An irked Olga had told Salazar off, and sent him out side to play, after reminding him of the family rule. He didn't mind, as it was his intention all along, to go outside into the beautiful weather. And besides, the village boys never talked to him, or even acknowledged his existence.

He strolled over to the edge of the swamp, looking for his friends. They were there often, sunning on the large stones. He grinned as he spotted Benjamin on one of the larger rocks.

"Hello, Ben."

The pacific head of the green garden snake looked up. "Hello, Salazar. How are you today?"

"I'm good. I just made another professor leave. And how are you?"

Salazar listened happily as Ben told of his little snake troubles, so different from Salazar's human ones.

As Ben was telling Salazar of his youngest son's misadventures, a shadow fell above them.

Salazar looked up, confused. It was Matthew Potter, a rather sickly looking boy. He was thin, with messy, jet black hair. His skin was white, and pale.

He had a village-wide reputation as the meanest kid in town. It was said that he had once stolen a horn from a wandering, blind musician, and blowed into is as loud as he could into the Old widow Lakewood's cow's ear, so it would never give milk again.

"Hello?" said Salazar uncertainly. He never really talked to children of his own age, and was unsure of what to do about this strange development.

"I want you to teach me," said Matt quickly, his voice barely a whisper.

"What?"

"To do…it," he said, knowingly. "What you and your maid and your mother and father do."

"What are you talking about?" Salazar replied, nervously.

"I don't wanna say it….it could get us in trouble."

"Write it, then."

"I can't…." Matt looked around, and put his mouth to Salazar's ear. "Magic."

Salazar jumped back with surprise. "I don't…I mean, we don't….we're just like you, we're not…witches."

Matt smiled. "Your mother and Olga are…but you and your dad aren't- you're warlocks."

Salazar simply gaped.

Matt continued. "We got a new farmhand, see, Mr. Giffydoor, or somethin' like that. An' we caught him doin' it. Me and Mum said that if he told us the name of someone who could teach us how to do it, we wouldn't tell anyone. And he said that your family could teach us a potion or two, an' that we need to be born with magic to do spells like he did, but not to do potions."

"Your farm hand," said Salazar, still suspicious. "Was his name Artos Gryffindor?"

"Not Artos. Godric, I think." Matt scrunched up his forehead. "But I think Artos's his dad."

That blew away any suspicion in Salazar's mind. Olga had talked of Artos Gryffindor just this morning. "Come with me, to my house. Then we can talk," he said to Matt.

Salazar slowly opened the door to the parlor, and stuck his head in. He turned to face Matt.

"It's clear," he whispered, and he carefully opened the door. He and Matt quickly rushed through, and closed the door.

"What's with all the quiet?" Matt asked. "I thought that you said that it would be safe here."

"I want to tell everyone about you first, so that they won't curse you, when they see you."

"Oh."

A few minutes passed, before Matt spoke.

"Can I see your wand?"

Salazar bit his lip. He wasn't sure that he wanted to show his wand to this strange boy. He could very well ask what was in it, and then he'd have to tell the whole tale of the store. Of course, he could make something up, but he didn't like to lie.

"Okay," he said slowly, and he pulled out his wand.

"Wow..." Matt gasped. "It's like I could almost be magic myself…I can feel it from over here. Can I hold it?"

Salazar slowly gave the wand to Matt, who eager grabbed it.

"Deus! Can you teach me a spell?"

"I don't think so…like Godric said, you have to be magic. I know, say Lumos while thinking really strongly that you want the tip to light up."

Matt looked at the wand tip fiercely, and said the word.

It lit.

Matt looked from the wand to Salazar. "Does this mean I'm magic?"

Salazar looked at both in awe. "Maybe…Wait, we could go ask the witch that lives in the marsh."

"The marsh?" Matt said with visible alarm in his eyes. "Don't evil spirits live there?"
"No. Just some Grindylows."

"What are those?"
Salazar shook his head. "Never mind." He then went over to the window, and opened it wide, climbed out, and Matt followed.

An hour later, they were at the purple tent of Persephone Dumbledore. They had taken longer then usual, because Salazar had to jump out of sight several times, as his parents were making there way back to the castle, and they would certainly explode something if they saw Matt.

Salazar pulled the flap open, and walked in, coughing a little from the scent of incense.

"Hello Salazar!" she said cheerfully. "And who's this?"

Matt had walked in. "Matt Potter, ma'am."

"I think he's a wizard," Salazar said, excitedly. "He came to me, when I was talking to Ben, and he asked if I could teach him how to make some potions. And, then, at my house, he tried to use my wand, and it worked."

Persephone's eyes grew big, as she turned to Matt. "Listen. Have you ever exhibited any signs of magic before? Any at all?"

"No."

"Any magic relatives? I don't care how distant."

"No…my farmhand is, that's how I found out about Salazar."

"And who is your farmhand?"

"Godric Gryffindor, ma'am."

Persephone whitened. "May the lord help us."

She lit a fire, threw in some dust, and yelled into it, "Godric Gryffindor!"

In the blink of an eye, a large man appeared next to the fire. He was tall, and seemed to be all red- he had red hair, and freckles, and he was wearing a red tunic.

He looked towards Persephone. "Oh, hello. Haven't seen you since Christmas. Oh, by-the by, did you enjoy the feast?"

"Not now Godric. What the hell were you thinking?"

"What do you mean?"

"Wait, first I should explain something to you, Salazar. You, Godric, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff are mentioned in a prophecy, made by, I might add, by a very reliable source. According to it, if something goes wrong, we could all be destroyed." She turned back to Godric. "Why?"

"I didn't think just going near him would do anything…"

She looked at Salazar. "One of the powers mentioned in the prophesy was that when either you and Godric, or Helda and Rowena got close enough, and the magic found a host that suited it's fancy, you could turn muggles into wizards. And it seems like that has just happened."

"What's so bad about that?" Salazar said.

"The muggles don't have anyone to teach them! And that's not to mention witch-hunts! The poor souls would be burned to a crisp!"

"I've heard of muggle-borns before," said Godric.

"Yes, but they're pretty rare, and normally turn up around Ireland, and India- surplus magic. Britain hasn't had one since…oh, probably around year of our lord 100"

Matt finally spoke up. "What's a muggle, any way?"

"You, dear- someone non-magic."

"Oh…sorry."

Persephone shook her head. "It's not your fault. If this lughead had just stayed where he was, we wouldn't be in this mess."

"Persephone?"

"Yes, Salazar?"

"What do they do with the muggle borns in Ireland and India?"

"They have schools they send them to, to teach them how to use there magic."

A wicked looking grin came across Godric's face. "Why don't we start one?"

Persephone gave him an equally evil look. "Because, I don't intend anything like this to happen again, because you are going back to Gryffindor manor now!" she yelled.

"But it's not there anymore!" Godric yelled back.

"What?"

"It. Is. Not. There. Anymore."

"What happened?"

"Let's just say it involved some beer, a unicorn, and a hell of a lot of leprechauns."

Matt suddenly spoke. "Excuse me, miss?"

"Just call me Persephone."

"Well, why should you stop people like me from being magic? I mean, if the magic thinks we should be, then why not?"

Persphone simply blinked. Then, mouth hanging open like a fish, she sputtered out a few words. "Because…it…just…I…er…There's no school…"

"So if Godric and you make a school, then you can have people like me."

"That's circular logic."

"No it's not," Godric piped up.

"Quiet, you," she snapped. "OK. You two, go back home," she said, pointing at Matt and Salazar, "No, on second thought, Matt, you stay here, I need to teach you some things. And Godric, you go back to work. Tell Matt's mother were he is, and I don't want to wake up tomorrow with a bunch of villagers with pitchforks and torches outside my tent, do it inconspicuously. I'm going to have to think about this some."