Disclaimer: All of this is based upon the lovely J.K. Rowling's work. I own nothing except Salazar's wife, son, and various other original characters. This story is an AU of sixth year, but it will contain a few spoilers from Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows. However, it will still seriously diverge from canon. There are a few references to The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien, as well as Sabriel by Garth Nix in this chapter.
"blah": dialogue
'blah': thoughts
"blah" : Parseltongue
"blah": Legilimency/Telepathy
Italics: excerpt from a book /newspaper or any other written form
Bold: a word or phrase that is emphasized
Italics, Underlined, and Bold: location/date of a scene in the story
Chapter Five: Righting a Wrong
Hogsmeade Wizarding Village, Hog's Head Tavern: Late January, 1977 A.D.
Not much had changed in the millennium since the opening of the Hog's Head. The floor was still dirt, and it was still impossible to see said floor under the filth. Only now, it was the grime of several centuries, instead of several years. The only light in the establishment remained unchanged, still coming from an assortment of candles and the embers of a perpetually dying fire. Even the type of clientele had not changed. The cloaked and shadowed people continuously found refuge in the Hog's Head.
But there was another far more important thing that remained unchanged within the tavern. Sitting within a darkened corner was a shrouded figure. He sat quietly, sipping at a deep, red liquid within a wine glass. Occasionally, he would stir, disturbing the scarlet-red cloak that covered his body. Even after one thousand years, whenever Dominic de Dorée visited the village, he always stopped in for a drink.
Of course, his preferred drink was not alcohol related, like many of the other patrons, but rather blood.
Dom was a vampire, after all, so to each his own.
Dominic sat silently, lost in thought. Whenever he journeyed to a familiar place, memories of the past would always resurface. One in particular always came to mind when he was in this particular tavern, and it was not a pleasant recollection. Sure, he had provided the means to the eventual death and disensoulment of an evil man, but Dom still felt guilty.
Many mortals would scoff at the idea of a guilt ridden vampire, especially if the remorse was a result of death. However, vampires were much more than most people even realized. Few would ever drink of humans or other sentient creatures. Those that did, only took what was willingly given. For, of course, everyone knew that to take it forcefully was to lace the life-giving substance with fear and violence, making it taste foul. Blood was much sweeter when offered freely.
Taking a life was different for his kind, for vampires. They remembered almost everything. One of the many benefits, or rather curses, of their kind. The recollections of each life taken were pooled into a vampire's subconscious until it was impossible to distinguish where the memories ended and the real world began.
Certainly, vampires like all living things needed to eat, to have nourishment, but they did not require the flesh of others to survive, only the blood. They were not forced to kill in order to live. So they would drink lightly, enough for them to be sated and for the other to live. Except in rare cases, a vampire only killed in defense of self or others.
And that was how Dominic had justified his actions. He was defending others; he had ensured that an evil was slain.
'But I did not have to curse him,' Dom reflected remorsefully, jaded eyes gleaming in the candlelight. 'I did not have to banish him eternally to the realm between life and death, into limbo. I did not have to stop him from being reborn, from living again.' Guilt, fierce and true, rose up even stronger within him. 'From making amends.'
Dom continued to sit, staring off into the distance. Every few minutes, he absentmindedly sipped his drink. He was so lost in thought that he did not even notice when it was all but finished and that he was sipping air instead of liquid. After almost an hour of quiet contemplation, Dom finally rose, swirling his cloak out behind him. His hand went to a pocket of his robe, producing two bronze coins, both of which were laid upon the wooden table. He moved from his chair toward the door and to the outside. He nodded smoothly to the barkeep, swiftly exiting the building.
Dom strode down the cobblestone street, cloak billowing behind him. His thoughts still churned in his head, old and ever present remorse raging in his mind. The wind picked up, scattering the few remaining dry and dead leaves. High above him, the perpetually twinkling stars sparkled and shined.
'I wish that I could change it,' Dominic thought wistfully, rubbing his face with his hand. 'I wish that I could give him another chance. Everyone deserves a second chance.'
An arc of color danced across the sky, a shooting star. Nevertheless, the vampire didn't see it as his eyes were fixed on the ground.
Dominic continued down the road, mind oddly blank after such a confession. He passed several darkened but friendly homes, all snuggly secure with sleeping inhabitants. The man swiveled his head, eyes easily taking in all of the sights, even with the surrounding darkness. To his right, in a stand of tall trees, he noted a faint and colorless light. Pausing for a moment, he turned slightly, approaching the foliage. He strolled to the very edge of the wood, hesitant to enter.
The wind tugged at the hood of his cloak, pulling it back from his pale face. Deep brunet hair that was so dark to be almost black floated in the breeze. A pair of eyebrows scrunched, and indecision was clearly written on Dom's face.
'It could be those crazed Death Eaters!' he thought forebodingly, growing far more uneasy. While vampires were Dark, they were most certainly not evil, quite unlike the new Dark Lord and his followers.
However, a tiny voice within Dom admonished the idea, 'Why would Death Eaters be putting on a light show in the middle of the woods, mere meters from Hogsmeade?'
The vampire considered his own question, looking at the puzzle from all angles. On one hand, it really could be the Death Eaters, most likely preparing to attack Hogsmeade. On the other, it could be something else entirely. Perhaps it was a few students from the school out of bounds or maybe a ritual for the upcoming holiday.
Finally, after many moments of indecision, his soft voice whispered to the wind. "Should I?" he asked his favorite element, calling on it to guide him right.
The light breeze increased, blowing strongly against his back. It tugged at his cloak, all but pulling it and him toward the trees. Another ferocious gust soon joined in and pushed Dom forward, into the woods.
"I will take that as a yes," he stated with a noticeable smirk. A hand went to a pocket of his wizarding robe, producing a willow wand, while with his other he gathered magic. "Just in case," he murmured to both the wind and himself, pulling more power into his awaiting palm. "One can never be too careful, and I might need the extra boost." His silvery eyes gazed into the trees, using the mysterious light to discern between shadows and solid objects.
He walked slowly and silently, carefully avoiding the noisy branches and leaves scattered across the ground. The vampire went deeper into the wood, searching for the elusive source of light. Finally, after several minutes, Dom approached a clearing that was lit up as bright as day. Yet, eerily it was completely empty of people, save himself. The source of the light seemed to be coming from the ground in the very center of the area. Dominic gripped his wand tighter as he cautiously approached the light source, only to notice that a strangely shimmering blue jewel was upon the ground.
He carefully studied the glowing stone, watching as it flowed and ebbed as though water was trapped within the crystal. Etched on the top was a metallic bird, complete with unfurled wings.
After a few heartbeats, Dom tucked his wand back within his robes. He then bent down and grasped the object… Only to find himself lying on the cold, hard ground, staring at the starry sky an undeterminable amount of time later.
He groaned loudly, attempting to sit up. The vampire tried to place both palms firmly on the dying grass in order to push himself upwards. But this attempt also failed, for clasped firmly within one was a merrily sparkling, blue amulet.
Dom moaned again, suddenly remembering exactly how he had ended up on the ground and what had transpired to put him there. A single touch of this odd talisman had shown him the truth.
He had cursed and banished an innocent man.
Feeling that it just wasn't his day, he scowled more at himself than at stone. "Alright," he acquiesced, "I will do as I should have done centuries ago."
The stone, rather happily, glowed brighter.
Dom merely sighed, shaking his head. After several abortive attempts, he finally stood. The brunet hurriedly placed the amulet within his robes before dusting himself off. Thinking that he had best hurry, he used a trickle of magic and disappeared with a small and barely noticeable musical pop. He had places to go, people to see, and souls to bring back to life.
The English Countryside: Early May, 1977 A.D.
The stars twinkled brightly and quite merrily within the velvety sky. A soft breeze blew through the countryside, rustling the spring leaves. High atop a meadowed hill, a diamond of protection sat within a circle of summoning.
The points of the diamond were represented by glowing runes etched onto stone. Each was a different color, standing for different elements and cardinal directions: the yellow of air facing east, red of fire going south, blue for water pointing west, and green of earth facing north. The circle was complete and perfectly formed, glowing a mysterious white. It fully encircled the diamond, touching each of the points. Off to the side, a neatly folded red cloak sat along with a well-filled traveling pack and an enormous stack of books. Most were from his own personal collection, but a number had been temporarily liberated from his workplace. However, he wasn't worried that anyone would question why the books were missing, especially not when considering the fact that no else had high enough clearance to even look at them without his permission.
In the very center of the diamond, Dominic de Dorée knelt among the spring flowers. A faint coating of frost covered his robe, a sharp contrast to the warm, spring night. His skin was exceptionally pale, whiter than the twinkling stars above. Even for a vampire, Dom looked pale. He appeared… well, he looked dead.
The wind picked up, blowing sharply into his face, but of course, Dom didn't notice. His mind was elsewhere, deep within another plane of existence, the plane of death. He was, after all, attempting to summon Salazar Slytherin back to the land of the living. The key word, however, was attempting.
Dom's mind had finally found his quarry, deep within the plane but oddly separate from it, an eternity after his search had started. He pulled gently on the wispy resemblance of Salazar Slytherin, freeing him from the chains encircling him. The soul slowly followed, easing its way out of death and into life, where Dom could completely free him and direct him to be reborn.
The vampire and his odd companion evaded any guardians present and passed the gates, which by some grand design were meant to keep souls going forward into death, not back as Dom was headed. Forward meant a resting place, be it heaven or hell or something in between, where a soul would rest or languish for a time before returning to life. Yet, Dom could not venture that way, unless he wished to be completely reborn as well. Only certain things, particular beings, were allowed to move about indiscriminately. Necromancers such as him were not one of them. It took a special sort to do that.
So he had been forced to settle for the backdoor equivalent of death.
Eventually, after what seemed another eternity, but was most likely only seconds in the living world, Dom approached his goal. Yet, just as both reached the shaded area, the line between life and death, a wall of pure magic slammed between them. It threw Dominic back into life and Salazar back into the margins of death.
High atop the hill, silvery eyes flew open, and Dom inhaled deeply. He suddenly growled, gnashing his teeth together.
"It did not work! How could it not work!?" Dom practically howled in frustration, his face hardening and lips curling into a distinctive sneer. "I know I countered all of the runes on the athame! I know I did!" His hands traveled to his head, tightly pulling on his hair. "Bloody Hell! Even after ten centuries, I still remember all the damn runes I used on the blasted thing!" He rose rather forcefully to his feet and began stomping around the white circle of summoning.
He paced around the circle, attempting to discover his error. He stomped around the circumference several times, kicking several rocks out of the way and muttering curses to himself in Gaelic, Latin, and a few languages that were probably extinct. While his pacing may not have helped Dom discern his mistake, it did alleviate his fury.
'I most definitely remember all of the runes,' he carefully thought after he had managed to calm down. 'Vampiric memory is good for some things, after all.' A tired hand traveled to his face, he idly began rubbing his chin, lost in thought. 'And Godric knew next to nothing about runes; that is why I had to make the bloody athame in the first place,' the vampire added with a hint of bitterness. 'Godric could not have modified the dagger.'
He did another full walk around the circle, almost stepping in a hole along the way.
'So what went wrong?' Dom pondered, dodging the same hole. 'I know that I am not the most brilliant necromancer, but I do have some skill. The only thing that could completely block my efforts would be if some other form of magic was interfering.' The man hesitated in his pacing, a shadow crossing his normally handsome face. 'It would have to be powerful… and long lasting. But what kind of spell fits?'
He stared off into space for several moments, thinking hard. 'Well,' his mind began, 'a blood curse--'
His train of thought came to a crashing halt. His eyes widened with surprise, and Dom nodded with a sudden burst of inspiration. He remembered hearing that mentioned before.
He hurriedly left the circle, momentarily breaking the ring of magic. Dominic strode straight to the stack of books, lifting the first one he came upon. He rapidly flipped pages, going to the index. He searched through the entries before finally discarding the text and throwing it over his shoulder. He picked up a second one, his eyes were almost a blur as they read, soon discarding it as well. He automatically reached for another, opening it hastily. He repeated the entire process several more times, until finding the desired passage:
The Sangre Effect:
First noted in the early first century by the famous necromancer La Muerte, this effect only applies to those cursed by a blood relative, while also under necromantic influence. Although the effect can take many forms, all involve the cursed remaining under the necromantic influence or spell, regardless of the duration of the original enchantment, unless released by another member of the bloodline.
The most notable case was that of Denethor of Tirith who remained under the effect for almost five centuries. After burning his youngest son alive, Denethor was cursed by his remaining children and his estranged sister. This curse coupled with a preexisting necromantic spell, involving Denethor's rebirth as a flobberworm, led to a most interesting happenstance. Denethor was perpetually reincarnated into flobberworms until a descendant of his original line took pity and released him…
His eyes lifted from the book.
The Sangre Effect? A blood curse?
Dom considered for a moment. Which of his relatives had Salazar pissed off enough for that?
He again glanced down at the page. 'I guess it does not matter now,' the vampire mused whimsically. 'But to free Salazar, I will need a blood relative.' A small smirk appeared on Dom's lips, 'I will need an heir of the line. An Heir of Slytherin.'
As quickly as the smirk formed, it soon vanished. Dominic exhaled slowly, sensing he was about to be involved in things he rather just avoid.
Sadly, there was only one known… person fitting that description.
St. Ottery: Early July, 1981 A.D.
The moon glowed peacefully, casting pale, pure light across the sleeping land. Numerous houses simmered faintly in the moonlight, but one in particular seemed to draw the mysterious orb's radiance. It was a nice home, simple but with character. It was situated within the countryside and encircled by trees, and lights from the distant village could be barely seen across the horizon. A large and extensive garden covered much of the backyard, extending all the way to the faraway tree line. The home was an interesting one, two storeys tall with a tower rising above. Still, it was not too large and far from small.
In a word, it was simply perfect.
Inside the home's well-lit kitchen, a lady with golden blonde hair held a wooden spoon. She stood next to a wall, near the hearth, stirring a heavy, iron kettle that was situated over a crackling fire. A safe distance away, in the near corner, sat a carriage-like piece of furniture, complete with infant inside. The baby was awake, her pale blue eyes staring dreamily at the enchanted ceiling of her carriage.
The woman turned abruptly as the baby suddenly sneezed, and she immediately strode to over, her grey robes swishing as she walked. She bent down, gently caressing the child's face with her unoccupied hand. Clearly, she was the child's mother.
The mother's hand traveled to the top of her daughter's head, soothing the gold and silver tresses. Yet, she paused in her movements at the sound of a faint knocking on the backdoor. She straightened, her deep eyes staring. Again, she heard the soft sounds of a tap. Thinking that it was her husband playing some sort of joke, she stepped to the door and opened it.
Outside, just within the circle of light caused by the kitchen, there stood an unfamiliar man. He was richly dressed with a red cloak atop a tailored wizarding robe. Although no wand was visible, the woman immediately knew that he was magical.
"Greetings," he stated in a cultured voice, smiling faintly. "My name is Dominic de Dorée. May I come in?"
The mother gazed attentively at him for a few seconds, searching for any sign of deception or danger. She carefully searched his face and eyes, but she found only honesty with a hint of sadness. Something deep within the woman, told her to trust him. Nonetheless, she twitched her left arm, causing a maple wand to fall from the holster on her wrist into her waiting hand. One could never be too careful during such trying times, after all.
"And may I inquire as to why you wish to enter?" the mother rebutted effortlessly.
An amused expression crossed Dom's face. "I only wish to speak with you, and it is becoming rather chilly outside."
The mother genuinely grinned, stepping back from the door. She nodded her head in acceptance, but Dom did not enter. She again gifted her guest with an inquiring look and hint of suspicion. Her eyes traveled to her child, who lay quietly in the carriage. However, the woman decided to trust her instincts, even though most logical thought went against them.
"Yes, you may enter," she said, voice holding an odd note.
Dom bowed lightly to her, stepping inside. "My thanks, madam."
The lady again nodded, intelligent gaze noting that her guest did not enter until given express permission. "Tell me, Mister Dorée," she asked, turning to her guest, wand still firmly clasped in her hand. "Why would a vampire wish entrance into my home, if only to speak with me?"
Dominic merely inclined his head as she correctly guessed his situation. He made no other movements, save to shift his hand to a pocket of his robes.
"Well, it is rather hard to explain why I am here," the vampire answered, effortlessly pulling his hand from his robes. There was a blue amulet clasped tightly within his fist. "But I believe that this," he stated, indicating the stone, "can help me explain."
The mother stared in awe at the artifact. Without even realizing, she reached out to touch it. And with that single touch, the same thing that had happened to Dom, and to countless others no doubt, happened to her.
Memories, images of happenings long since past, flew through her mind. A distant but uplifting melody filled her ears, blocking out all other sound. A pure, pristine light filled the entire room.
But within seconds it, all of it was over. And it had changed everything.
The mother stood dazed and would have sunk to the floor had Dom not caught her. Great knowledge that she hadn't possessed moments ago now filled her mind. It confused her endlessly.
Dom held her quietly for a few moments before easing the woman to her feet.
"But why here? Why bring it here?" she questioned, still partly dazed. She indicated the amulet, which still lay on Dom' palm, with a hasty gesture. "Why not bring it back to him? To Salazar… or whoever he is now?"
The vampire just looked at her. "I cannot reach him. Those of my kind are said to be evil." He sighed, anger and hurt in his expression. "They would never let one such as me near him," Dom added bitterly. His wary and somewhat jaded eyes turned to the now sleeping infant in the carriage. "Besides, the amulet is as much hers as it is his," he finished, the painful emotions draining from his face.
He moved his pale hand to the lady's bronze one, clasping it firmly. A mere second later, his hand pulled back, leaving the talisman within her hand. Dom backed away slowly and turned, heading for the door.
"It is hers," he murmured, exiting the house. "It will protect her, keep her safe." He left, closing the door with a click and was gone an instant later.
The mother stared after him for a few moments, lost in thought. Mechanically and quite unintentionally she moved to the carriage containing her tiny daughter. She studied the sleeping infant before returning to the ebbing jewel that was clutched in her hand.
"This is yours, my darling daughter," she whispered to the little girl, the amulet suddenly glowing brighter.
She sniffled, tears snaking their way down her face. A horrible and hopefully untrue prediction played in her mind.
"It will protect you, love," the mother added softly, "long after I am gone."
St. Ottery: Fifteen Years Later…
Much had changed to the house and to the family in the last fifteen years. The home, once a creamy white, was now a light, warm blue. Even the once dark foundation stones were now grayish, changed in order to match the rest. The garden was still well-cared for but now consisted of a weird variety of unnamable plants instead of the original flowers and vegetables.
And of the family itself, the lady of the household had died in a rather unfortunate and untimely accident, leaving her daughter and husband with only each other. The father had taken his wife's death rather hard, becoming distant and insular for a time. Yet, he had eventually recovered, bringing his daughter and him closer together than ever before.
And, of course, the infant girl with dreamy eyes had grown into a lovely, young woman with a mysterious air about her.
The teenager in question sat upon her windowsill, left check against the cool glass. The pale light of the waning moon glittered along her hair, casting even more silver into it than normal. A loose braid hung down her back and seemed to glow in the ethereal light. The girl exhaled, pressing a very tanned hand to the glass. The gesture was childish, innocent-like, almost as if she were reaching for the moon. She sighed again, distractedly blinking her eyes and tracing the surface with her fingertip. She snuggled within her window seat, her nighttime refuge.
She had been plagued by odd dreams as of late. Remarkably strange, weird but wonderful dreams. The one this night had been exceptionally odd. Well, more peculiar than usual. It involved two men, both of who seemed vaguely familiar. It is possible that she knew them, but the girl could not recall from where. No matter how she tried.
"Maybe from a previous life," she had lightly joked to herself.
She had not caught the name of the first man, but he was familiar nonetheless. He was an angry and haughty person, complete with an evil smile and dangerous pyrite eyes. But she had the sense that he had not always been that way. Once, there had been courage with a hint of pride instead of arrogance. And there had been camaraderie instead of jealousy.
The second man, however, she knew his name. She knew it very well. Just as she knew his dark hair and mischievous laugh. Green eyes and naughty grin.
The teenager exhaled and looked upwards, intently studying the moon as it partially disappeared between a wisp of cloud. "Salazar," she whispered to it.
Her hand traveled to her neck and the metallic necklace encircling it. She inhaled very slowly, remembering his smile.
The moon again appeared, once more casting its silvery light. The girl shook her head, fingertips caressing the jewel about her neck. It flowed and ebbed much like water in the faint moonlight.
"His name is Salazar."
AN: The Sangre Effect: Basically, this happens when a blood relation of a soul's current or, after they have died, most previous incarnation curses them with magic. This, coupled with the enchantments already on the athame, prevented anyone but another blood relative of Salazar from summoning him back. Basically, he was trapped in limbo until a descendent of the Slytherin line freed him.
Also, I bet that you can guess who had to summon Salazar back. Plus, to whom Dom originally wanted to give or rather return the amulet (winks and smiles)! Also, yes … the mother did foresee her own death.
To everyone who reviewed: Thanks!
Special thanks to Hobbit-Tabby and DracoQueen for the beta and to Our Catholic Faith (online) for the Latin translation.
Chapter Six: Star Bright
Ever Hopeful,
Azar
Updated and Edited:
05/31/08
