Sal scrambled to the top of the rocks and fired off a volley of curses at his quarry's back. His prey, a wizard named Emeric, spun and quickly blocked off each of the spells as they raced towards him. He laughed, a short sharp bark of a laugh, and then turned back and continued running.

Sal swore then jumped down the other side of the rocks and sprinted after Emeric's fleeing back, sending more curses towards him.

Over the heather the two wizards sped; never stopping in their back and forth with curses and spells.

Emeric skidded to a halt by a precipice and skirted left and right as he looked for a way down.

Sal drew his sword as he closed the distance between them and tightened his grip on the wand in his left hand. He kept his eyes fixed on Emeric's wand.

A bounty had been placed upon the other wizard's head for a number of crimes; the latest being the theft of the wand now in Emeric's possession and the murder of its previous owner.

Sal had also heard rumours about the wand itself. It was said to be cursed by Death, a rumour that made him a little nervous, but he knew for certain that it was a very powerful wand. How it would fair against his own he did not know.

"Give it up, Emeric. Haven't you run enough?" he called as he neared.

Emeric laughed again but this time there was a strained quality to it. "I must congratulate you, Slytherin. You are the only one of my hunters that I have had to physically flee from," he said.

"And I'll be the one to march you back to London!" Sal snarled.

"I don't think so!" Emeric growled. "Avada Kedavra!"

Sal dived to one side out of the path of the curse. As he rolled across the heather, he heard the distinctive crack of a Disapparition. He raised his head and saw that he was indeed now alone.

He groaned, sheathed his sword, tucked his wand inside his sleeve and let himself fall back on the heather.

So close, yet so far.

Six years had passed since he had received his wand. In those six years, he had been in many fights with both wand and blade but none had been as close as that duel with Emeric had been.

If he wanted to take on the wanted wizard again, he thought, he was probably going to need the help of Sir Randolph.

Hoof beats thundered across the heather and clattered to a halt near him.

"You, boy!" an arrogant voice shouted.

Sal opened his eyes and looked for his hailer.

"Boy?! I have five years on you, at least!" he snapped.

The boy on the horse flushed. He was finely dressed in reds and browns and everything about him, from his boots to his red hair, screamed rich Muggle. He turned the horse and rode towards where Sal was sprawled on the heather.

"You, have you seen a bald man with an evil countenance and malevolent presence? He is wanted by the crown and we received word that he had strayed onto my father's lands," he proclaimed.

Sal, disliking the boy more and more for every second he stayed in his presence, made a great show of looking around him as if Emeric was about to pop out of a hole in the ground.

"Me? Nay, good sir! I have not seen the scoundrel you seek!" he said. "If I lay mine eyes upon him, I shall be certain to seek out your good lord father!"

The boy narrowed his eyes but spurred his horse and charged off across the moors.

Sal climbed to his feet and began to walk back towards the village where he'd found Emeric, a quaint little place called Godric's Hollow.

The landlord of the inn looked up and glared at him as he entered.

"Sorry," Sal said sheepishly and leant down to pick up a curse-scorched chair.

"You were lucky, lad. He was a nasty piece of work, even for one of your lot," the landlord said.

Sal chose to ignore the insult and continued helping to restore the inn. Eventually, the inn was restored and he was seated at the bar with a tankard of mead in front of him.

"So," he said. "Why is the inn called The Brothers' Rest?"

The landlord stopped wiping a tankard with a filthy rag and looked at him curiously. "Thought you'd have known about that, bein' a wizard an' all," he said. "This inn was the last rest before the Three Brothers met Death upon the roads."

"...Pardon?"

"Huh. I thought everybody knew about the Brothers. Everyone around here used to. Used to be a vibrant little community of your folk," he said, reaching down for another tankard. "Then the current lord took over from his late father, bless the old bastard's soul. Our dear lord thinks he's a cut above the rest; thought he could rename the village in honour of his son, Godric, run all the witches and wizards out in the name of heresy and completely ignore our local history."

"The lord's son is named Godric?" Sal laughed. "I think I might have met him out upon the moors when I was pursuing Emeric. The little lordling thought he could take on the evil wizard all by himself."

"Little sod," the landlord muttered. "He should know better. Here, let me get you another drink..."

He had intended to ride for the Hufflepuffs the next day to enlist the help of Sir Randolph in apprehending Emeric.

But, instead, here came the owl with the note tied to its leg.

Summons.

For him.

From Matilda.

Wonderful.

She was very impatient so he knew he had to reach her as soon as possible but... well... he could not stand the woman. She was always pawing at him and hanging off his arm. The only good things that had ever come out of his acquaintance with Matilda were his wand and the number of duels he had won.

Both of these were only helping to improve his reputation in the magical community. People were beginning to realise that the name of Slytherin meant something.

There was no way of getting out of it. So, instead of turning his horse North to Wales, he turned it East to where she awaited him.

Riding there was like something out of a dream. He knew this land from somewhere. He'd been here before.

Even the castle his instructions led him to was familiar. Nostalgia washed over him as he rode under the gatehouse and swung off his horse.

He was led to a small room within the keep. Three other young men were there; two dark-headed like Sal and one of hair so pale it was almost white. They looked round as he entered and then returned to their previous conversation. Clearly they knew each other from elsewhere.

Sal moved across to a window. He could see a village in the distance. He knew the pattern of rooftops across the hill. Where was he?

A door opened behind them and Matilda breezed through.

"My dear Salazar! You have joined us at last!" she simpered, moving immediately to squeeze his arm. He tried to halt his cringe and spread a smile on his face.

"And now, I can tell you why I have gathered you here!" Matilda cooed, slipping her arm through Sal's. "Our dear Papal Father Eugene has decreed that a Second Crusade is to come about and Stephen is even now preparing a force to send. I cannot afford to spare an entire regiment of men but I can afford to send some of my wizards."

The three on the other side of the room eyed Sal carefully. He pulled himself to his full height and stared back at them. So, they were wizards too.

"You four shall be who I send," Matilda said.

The three exchanged shocked looks.

"Madame, you cannot be serious," the pale-haired one said. "How are four supposed to stand against an army?"

"I am perfectly serious, Malfoy," she snapped. "You are to be an elite force, moving from camp to camp and aiding as needed. You will show the leaders of the Crusade the powers Wizarding kind hold."

Her face was ugly for a moment before twisting back into its usual simper. "Gentlemen, this is Salazar Slytherin. He shall lead you in your adventure," she said, placing one hand on Sal's back and propelling him forward slightly.

Panic shuddered through him. He worked alone. In all the years he had spent hunting down wanted wizards, the only help he had ever sought had been from Sir Randolph or Gawain Weasley and that had been rare. How was he supposed to lead another three wizards? Three wizards who, by the looks of them, were all high-born and knew each other anyway.

One of the dark-haired men, a slight figure with an almost feminine face, tipped his head to one side and examined Sal. "I've heard of the name Slytherin. You were the wizard who dealt with the Troll in Warwick," he said. "Impressive."

"Excellent! You understand why I want dear Salazar to lead you," Matilda said sweetly.

Yes, let the commoner lead the noble boys. They were sure to listen to him.

"A ship awaits you at Dover to take you to France. From there, you should be able to meet up with the French troops and begin to help!" she said.

This was most definitely among the craziest ideas she had ever had.

They were each given a letter explaining who they were and their task and then they were bid to leave. Sal managed to write a quick letter to send off to the Hufflepuffs before they were herded from the castle and sent on their way.

Introductions were made and the four wizards left to begin their adventures.

Guarin, Cato and Aelius were the names of Sal's new companions and they seemed friendly enough. He even found himself laughing as they rode along.

His laughter died as they rode over the crest of a small hill. An oak tree stood near a bend in the road and beneath its shadow lay the burnt and blackened stone foundation of a house. He pulled his horse to a halt and stared at it.

No wonder this place had seemed so familiar.

This was the first time he had been home since that night when his parents burned.

And this chapter brings to a close Sal's childhood and the first of the four arcs in this story! They are so far in my head -
1) Sal's childhood
2) The Crusades
3) The events leading up to and the Founding of Hogwarts
4) Fifteen years after the Founding and the events which cause Sal to leave

Thank you to the many of you that followed since the last chapter and to CarmineDuvale for reviewing.

Let me know what you thought and I'll see you in the next chapter.