Chapter 1:
Blood seeped into the ground a single spell left his lips. Darkness came, taking him gently into the land of dreams. He longed for one more chance, one more day. To wake and embrace the one he called brother, even if only to himself. To sing with his beloved, to run from her brother. To tease his heart-sister and to teach the little ones.
The 17-year-old allowed himself to wonder, a moment from death, what would happen if he had never opposed Hel.
Then he woke.
His lungs filled with clear metallic scented air. A sharp gasp flew from his lips.
His brown eyes drifted open, shock weighing him down and slowing his actions.
His shoulders ached as if he'd simply fallen and not been stabbed. Something cold and wet dripped down his cheek, blood most likely. His ears rang as a wooden ceiling came into focus.
"Sal?" a voice, distant, deep and unrecognizable, inquired. Who was this person?
Why did they know his name?
Why did they sound upset and frantic?
"He isn't responding." The voice matched itself to a figure who appeared in front of him. A man, slightly older than the 17-year-old lying in front of him, with brilliant blue eyes and brown hair. His blue eyes were frightened, wide and shaking.
"Call Sister Lydia!" the man snapped; Sal blinked in surprise. Sister Lydia? Had the nearby muggle village taken him in? If so, he was in grave danger.
But this man did not seem hostile. In fact, he seemed to be... gentle? Caring even? Clearly, the man had no idea what Sal was.
However, that made no sense since he knew his name.
"Who are you?" spilt from his lips in a boyish voice, a voice he'd most certainly grown out of three years ago.
He barely heard the man exclaim, "Blasted bird!" in his shock.
That voice was most certainly not the voice of a seventeen-year-old man. So how did it come from him?
Unless...
Did he de-age? Had his spell worked unexpectedly?
"Sal! Sal!" Exclaimed another voice, this one younger and sweeter. Small hands settled on his side, and he half pushed himself to peer at the child. He had always loved children and would never react negatively to them, even when in the hands of the enemy.
Grey eyes, unusual but not necessarily magical, and black hair, that touched her waist. Pleasantness to her features and plumpness bespoke her future beauty.
The little one was comparable to a raven, just as young Rowena had been once upon a time.
"Hello, little one," he cooed gently. "Who might you be?"
Confusion covered her face as if she expected him to already know her name.
Was she, perhaps, a student?
Oh dear, had he forgotten one of his new hatchlings?!
"Big brother?" she examined him with those sharp grey eyes.
"Who?" He blinked at her, startled by the unexpected address.
"- head falling down the stairs." the man, who Sal had not noticed left, said as he returned. The grey-haired woman at his side gasped upon seeing Sal, which confused him greatly.
That confusion only grew when the woman brought his form into her arms in a semblance of a hug.
"Oh, Sal!"
Who was this woman, and why did she know his name?
He pushed away from her and stood. "Apologies, madam, but-" a third voice interrupted him. "Are you, perhaps, Sal Venture?" Sal looked away from the grey-haired lady to a white-haired man dressed in odd clothing. Now that he noticed it. All of them were wearing strange clothing, even himself.
"I am Sal." He said uncertainly. He'd never known his original surname, so it might have been Venture. But he much preferred the surname he'd made for himself: Slytherin.
"Wonderful, my boy, wonderful! I am Headmaster Dumbledore, and I believe you have recently received an acceptance letter from my school."
"What?!" four voices inquired at once, Sal and the three strangers.
Sal because... well, he was a teacher at his own university. So why would he apply to another?
The others:
"You applied to a school and didn't tell us?" the blue-eyed man inquired with an upset tilt to his words.
"I still don't know who you are." Sal pointed out, confused. "Why would I tell you even if I did?"
The shocked and concerned looks he received for that were apparently warranted, though he had no idea what he had done.
"Perhaps we should speak privately, my boy." Dumbledore, if that was his name, said.
Sal weighed his options hesitantly: on the one hand, he had no idea what was going on, and this Dumbledore fellow seemed most likely to have the answers. On the other hand, he didn't really trust a man who called him "my boy." and wanted to speak "alone" with him.
"I suppose so." He agreed with a shrug. He needed information, and clearly, Dumbledore had that.
Besides, even if the man was dangerous, Sal did have magic to protect himself.