Disclaimer: I don't own Salazar Slytherin. This is a mere interpretation of JK Rowling's fantastic founder.

A/N: This is the same Salazar as in my other fictions History Retold and One True Heir of Slytherin…

Devilry

I lost my childhood, the innocence of youth in one terrible night. It was the night I lost faith in human kind, perhaps forever.

Human nature is the worst type of devilry in this world. We are a twisted species intent on hurting and punishing others for our own gain. I believe this of both mage and muggle...they have both betrayed me and those I love.

I was about fifteen when the rumors started. Our family lived in fear so intense I am sure I would have suffocated if I stayed in the village any longer.

There were rumors of a band of priests moving from village to village burning witches and executing wizards. Our village was small our family had survived by the lack of evidence against us and because no one wanted to take over the undertaker job of my poor devoted father.

There was no escape. Proof for condemning the unfortunates was not needed. There need not be any provocation.

We heard stories about whole muggle families being torn from the beds and executed...We heard this in fear.

The devilry here was not magic. No it was Satan, dangling the keys of hell, using God's priests. The devilry was human nature.

Our parents lived in fear for months. Often Salome and I caught them talking in hushed voices, only for the cease the conversation as soon they realized we were listening.

I was shaken awake one night and I remember blinking wearily and looking frantically about. "There here," Salome whispered in my ear, "Get up and get dressed."

I threw back my moth eaten blankets and pulled a green cloak over my shoulders–it was the only clothing I owned part from my hose and shirt.

My mother was stuffing food into a small sack cloth bag, shaking her head and sobbing.

"Mother," I crept up behind her. She jumped and hugged me viciously before throwing the bag hurriedly into my hands. "Take this, take your sister and go..."

"But..."

She kissed both my cheeks and pushed me out the door. Salome was on my heels.

"But..." I gesture uselessly around the home and my eyes feel to my father who was lying pale on his pallet.

"You're father is too ill. I shall not leave him," my mother said softly and gave me another push towards the door, "Go."

"Mother..."

"Son," my father gasped from his sick bed. "Go, and live a long life."

Everything seemed to cave in about me. I understood fully my parents fear. This was the end of our village life. And for my parents, there was no escape. I was going to loose the pinnacle of my life, my pillars of strength of comfort.

"Nooo..." I think my voice wobbled with emotion. But I was not embarrassed.

"Oh Salazar," my father coughed violently his dark eyes smiling sadly at me, "you must..."

I blinked away the tears from my eyes furiously, swallowed then nodded resolutely turning from my parents and taking my sisters hand run into the darkness.

We had not gotten far when we saw the first glimmer of muggle activity. Even at the distance we were we could both see the bobbing of the burning torches at the muggles marched with their holy men leading their way.

I shuddered but I dear not moved. I sat and waited, crouched and cramped in my hiding place. Beside me I could hear Salome crying softly so, I wrapped my arms around my sister and we waited.

The muggles reached out front door after a few minutes. I watched as they rapped smartly on the rotting door frame. When there was no answer they became more insistent until the door fell of its frame and onto the floor with a THUMP!

In my arms Salome stirred and hiccupped.

The muggles stood by the entrance to our home seemingly perplexed by the lack of resistance.

Screams and cries echoed through our hiding place as the priests and the men of the village pulled my poor mother out by her hair. I could not help myself: I stood and looked back home and I saw the silhouette of my mother dumped at the feet of a holy man.

Screams of terror rent the air as the villages beat my mother. It tore my inner soul apart to hear her suffering so while I remained in hiding powerless to save her.

My father was dragged from our home next. They had no respect for his illness as he too was treated to the same barbaric treatment.

Then to add further insult to injury, the torches were piled around the perimeter of our house. My childhood home would burn for hours nothing would be left but piles of ashes; a ruin by the fen.

We watched as our parents were taken away, frog marched between the butcher, the blacksmith and the baker.

I instantly realized with a jolt of trepidation that the rumors were true. There would be no trail, no chance of proving innocent and harmless. Our parents, the very core of my world, were going straight to their execution.

Salome, dear Salome was so distressed with these terrible turn of events that when I whispered for her to stay where she was hidden. She didn't even beg me to stay.

I do not know to this day what possessed me to follow the villagers. I only had this overwhelming feeling in the pit of my stomach that I must.

They took my parents into a little hut and left the door guarded. I held my breath; I knew my parents had enough magic to escape from their dungeon.

Alas nothing happened. At the time I could not understand why. But now I understand. My mother would not leave my father. She was loyal to him and him to her.

I waited for what seemed like such a long time. I watched the villages hastily build a roughly hewn wooden platform. To this day I can still hear the bellowing orders of the blacksmith.

The muggles' construction was finished by dawn. They wasted no time. My parents were fetched from their prisoner and shuffled up the stairs of the platform. With a growing dread I realized they were going to be executed–by the axe.

Rumor had spread amongst the muggles about the flame – freezing charm. They were taking no chances that my parents could survive.

Everything around me seemed surreal. I could not help myself I rose upon my feet and walked forward into to the open.

"Jarl Slytherin and his wife Imogene Slytherin of the fen have been accused of the most unholy practice of witchcraft. They have been condemned to die upon this dawn..."

I choked and wrapped my cloak around my shoulders as I heard the priest's words. No one was taking any notice of me. They only had a sordid fascination with my parents' execution.

"May they burn in the fiery pits of hell for all eternity." The priest voice warbled with unholy judgement.

Tears started to streak down my dirty face as I watched the executer step forward. He was holding an axe with a long curved blade; that I knew at any moment was going to lop my parents' heads off.

"MURDERERS!" I screamed, my voice echoed pitifully as it warbled with emotion. I knew even then what I was doing was stupid.

The villagers turned to look at me and I stared back at them. I think was the first time I realized it was us against them – the non-magicals.

"Murders," I whispered repeating my last accusation.

The priest stepped forward and waved a long staff with the crucifix at me. "Get the boy away from here."

"He's their son," my old enemy Glynn told the priest jabbing his finger at my parents who stood rebelliously side by side.

The priest turned his head towards me. I do not know what he saw within me. But his eyes widened in what I assume to be fear. "DEVIL!"

"Salazar," my father yelled wrestling with his bonds, "Run."

I choked and shook my head, tears still streaming down my cheeks.

My father's eyes hardened and he growled for the first time at me. "Do as I say."

I was dreadfully fearful; I could not comprehend my father's anger. But it made be afraid.

As the villagers reached out to grab me, I dodged them. And I ran towards a hiding place.

Fortunately for me the villagers were too keen to see my parents die to worry too much for me. They turned back and the axe was raised...

"Salazar..." My father's voice wafted on the wind towards me before the axe came crashing down on his exposed neck.

Blood spattered, his head fell loose off his shoulders. His guidance had been torn from my life.

Sobbing hysterically I turned and ran. I knew that my mother would be killed after my father. My grief was too powerful for me to watch her die. So I did the only thing I could: I ran.

I ran into the fen and kept running until I found a large trunk of a tree, where I lay slumped, wailing like a new born.