Chapter 49: 1411-1534 AD The Path To War

Salvazsahar Emrys, now known as Salvatio Malfoire, was standing in front of the front gates of Hogwarts, contemplating his past. It had been years since he had been last seen the castle in front of him - and yet, throughout all his life, all those centuries, millennia he had lived, he had always returned to it. It was his home - and it felt definitely odd that he was now thinking about breaking and entering into it…

"But needs must," Sal thought darkly, his eyes searching out the one tower that once had belonged to Peverell. "Needs must…"

Nevertheless, it was odd to Sal that after all these years working at Hogwarts, after all these years learning and living at Hogwarts, after all these years defending Hogwarts, he had now come to conquer it.

"A healer on warpath," Sal thought amused. "That's not what you'll see every day."

Then he bared his teeth in a semblance of a smile.

"But then," he thought. "Sometimes it needs to be a healer who goes to war. Sometimes, only a healer will be the one to do the right thing, not the easy."

Regretfully, Sal guessed that such a time had come today.

"Hello, atr," he greeted Hogwarts. "I've come to take your master down."

And the old, black iron gates slowly opened.

1411

"Andromeda, cherie," Sal said while setting down the cutlery. "I wanted to talk to you, cherie ."

Andromeda looked up from her potion's book. It wasn't normal in this time, that a woman went on and got a mastery, but Sal had insisted when he had found out that his wife, or back then future wife, was interested into potions.

When the potion's master guild objected to the idea of a woman working, Sal had simply pointed out that he wanted to do a mastery in potions and that he needed his wife to bounce off ideas. It would be a travesty if a potion's master's wife had actually no idea about the field of study of her husband.

A lot of wizards had thought the reasoning a little bit odd, but in the end, they had granted Sal his request and Andromeda was accepted as an apprentice. A year ago she had finished her mastery and was now the first potions mistress in over three centuries.

Sal on the other hand had finished his studies a few years before her and had continued on into the medical field - something that Andromeda had no real interest in, but was willing to learn anyway to keep up the pretence that Sal needed her to bounce off ideas.

And maybe, he truly did need her. Over the last three years of their marriage and the six years of betrothal, Sal had gained a friend in his wife. She wasn't 'the love of his life', but she was a friend and someone he could live with for the rest of his life if he had to - not that he would have to. Sal was more than aware that Andromeda would die long before he stopped living and there was no way to change that. His uncle might have made a philosopher's stone, but the price to make another was too high and the stone his uncle was using wouldn't sustain his aunt and uncle and Andromeda - if she would have been willing to use it which she wasn't.

"What do you need, mieus amicx?" Andromeda asked in that moment, finally finishing the line she had been reading.

"I wanted to talk to you, cherie," Sal said with a sigh before pulling out a letter. "I got this this morning and I wanted your opinion on it."

She took the letter from his hand and read it.

Then she set it down on her book in front of her.

"What do you want to do, mieus amicx?" She asked him interested.

Sal frowned and stared at the wall behind his wife, thinking about it.

"I'd like to return to Hogwarts," he said finally sincerely, thinking of his son and his grand-parents that were still living in Hogwarts right now. "But I won't take the job offer, if you don't want to go."

Andromeda smiled at him.

"I know," she said. "But then, right now, we don't have any children - and with your inability to father some, it will take time until we will have one."

Sal winced a little bit at that. He felt a little guilty that he had basically forced Andromeda to give up the hope for her own children way before they were even married. Andromeda told him that she didn't care about that, that she preferred to study and learn, but he still couldn't stop to at least feel a little bit guilty whenever she spoke about that fact so carelessly.

"Maybe I will even able to take over teaching when the current potions master retires. He's quite old, already, after all," his wife continued in that moment.

Sal smiled at her when he heard that.

"If that's what you wish, I will make it happen," he promised her. He had more than enough influence with the Wizard's Council or the school if he wanted it, after all. If Andromeda wished to teach, he would do everything short of taking the crown to make it happen. Of course, Sal would prefer not to have to take such drastic measures for such a simple thing, but he was at least willing to use them - as long as it was something as reasonable as wanting to teach. He would have thought twice if the request had been unreasonable, but teaching in his eyes was reasonable enough.

"I know," Andromeda replied amused. "I remember quite well your sudden change in interest after finding out that I wouldn't be able to study potions on my own."

Sal just shrugged and grinned at her.

"I'm your husband," he said truthfully. "The least I can do is to make sure that this marriage is a happy one."

Andromeda smiled at that.

"The least I can do is make sure the same," she replied. "You want to go to Hogwarts - I can see it in your eyes - so we will go to Hogwarts. I don't mind, and you don't need to step back from your wishes for me. This marriage is a bond of two people. We both have to at least try to make it work. I don't want to live like some of the others, unhappy and alone. If it means a little cooperation from both of us, so be it. I wanted to be a potions mistress and you made sure that I could be one. Now you want to go to Hogwarts, so let's do it."

Sal smiled at that.

As much as he had tried to stop his parents from marrying him off - at least they had managed to find someone he could understand and get along with just fine.

It wasn't perfect, but it was life and Sal didn't mind at all.

"So, let's go to Hogwarts," he said amused. "Here comes the new healer for the medical wing!"

Years later Sal would look back and shake his head. Back then it had looked like a job for a few years before he returned to travelling or taking on his own clientele. It would take at least a decade until Sal understood that he would be the healer of Hogwarts for at least the next century to come…

1427

"She's wonderful," Andromeda cooed, rocking the days old baby in her arms.

"She'll be a devil when she grows up," Anastasius replied smirking.

"Ana!" Sal reprimanded and the vampire ducked his head.

"I apologize, Dame Andromeda," he said. "That was most uncalled for. She will be worse than the devil, I assure you."

"Anastasius!" Sal stared at his vampire child, basically scolding him with his eyes.

Then Sal's mother laughed.

"Oh, Salvatio!" She exclaimed giggling. "You should hear yourself! You sound like a papa already!"

Anastasius flashed his teeth at that.

"He's always talking to me like that," he said, fake-pouting. "It's as if Pater uses me to train for his baby child!"

Sal rolled his eyes at his son.

"Well, you are always calling him Pater," Andromeda pointed out amused. "It's no wonder that he treats you like his son if you call him like that!"

"But I like calling him Pater!" The vampire whined.

"Then don't object to being treated like my son, Ana," Sal pointed out ruthlessly. "And now out with you! You have some investigating to do!"

His son pouted.

"Researching what is happening all over the Isles can wait for a bit! The naming is more important!"

"Well, I'm definitely honoured that you think the naming of my daughter is more important than unnatural fog and coldness all over the Isles, but don't you think you should have other priorities, Anastasius Sanguini?" Andromeda said with a raised eyebrow.

"But my dear step-mama!" Ana pouted. "Don't you think that big brother shouldn't be here to say hullo to his new little sister?"

"Well, you did that now," Sal intercepted before Andromeda could answer. "And now that you're done with it, I'm sure we can make do without you. Now off you go! Your step-mother and I have to decide on the name of your sister!"

Sal and Anastasius had never told Sal's parents and Sal's wife their true relationship. They never tried to hide the relationship, they just never outright told it as well. As a result, Anastasius had been somehow indirectly adopted into the family as a semi-child of Sal - most of the family members guessing that Anastasius' use of 'Pater' was based on Sal's fatherly behaviour towards the children while Sal's fatherly behaviour towards the vampire was seen as some kind of revenge for being called 'Pater' by the vampire.

Sal didn't plan on telling his wife of his family anything more about his relationship with Anastasius. They knew the most important parts - they didn't need to know that Sal raised the vampire as well. Anastasius was part of the family, and it didn't truly matter if he was seen as a semi-grandson or as an actual one - at least it didn't to the vampire and his father.

"But I wanna stay and help naming her!" the vampire whined in that moment. "It's my little sister we're talking about here! I can't leave you and come back just to find out you named her Ursula or something like that!"

"What's wrong with the name 'Ursula'?" Andromeda asked confused.

"Nothing!" Anastasius complained. "The only thing wrong with it would be that I had no hand in choosing it!"

Sal rolled his eyes.

"You're far too old to act like a child," he reprimanded his son.

Anastasius stuck out his tongue in reply and Andromeda laughed.

"Let him stay, mieus amicx," she said amused. "I don't mind. Maybe he has a good idea or two how to name her."

"I do!" Anastasius exclaimed. "How about naming her traditionally? I'd offer to be the godparent!"

Sal groaned, his parents laughed and Andromeda looked at her daughter thoughtfully.

"Why not?" She finally said. "It's a dying tradition, but I think it's perfect!"

"Great!" Anastasius exclaimed happily. Sal just sighed.

"Wonderful," he said while rubbing his nose bridge. "Now I have to choose a name by myself!"

Andromeda just smiled.

"I name her Perdita," she said.

Sal took a deep breath, then he closed his eyes and chose the one name he had thought about since he had heard that his Oncle Nicholas had found them a baby girl.

"Perdita Helena," he said.

Anastasius grinned.

"Perdita Helena Nymphadora," he said, and Sal wanted to groan at the name his son had chosen for his sister and goddaughter. Sal was sure that his daughter wouldn't appreciate to be named 'Nymphadora'.

"At least it's just the third name," he consoled himself.

Hundreds of years later, long after little Perdita's father had lost track of her squib descendants in the muggle world, another little girl would be born to her pureblood mother and muggle-born - well, squib-born father. Sadly enough, she wouldn't be as lucky as little Perdita.

1440

"But Father! Ana said I could!"

"I don't care what Ana said!" Sal objected instantly. "I as your father say you're not allowed! And that's my final word on this matter!"

"But Father, please! Some of the others are going as well and -"

"No, Perdita! I won't allow it! Especially considering that you plan to leave Hogwarts as well to -"

"The others are going, too! Nobody has objected -"

"I'm quite sure that others have! You might not have heard it, but considering the danger out there-"

"It's not that dangerous to -"

"It is!" Sal objected heatedly. "But even if it wasn't, leaving Hogwarts is currently nearly as dangerous as your insane plan!"

"You're talking as if Hogwarts is the only safe place in the whole world, Father!"

"Not in the whole world, but with the attacks, leaving people in a kind of coma, that unnatural fog all over Britain, the coldness -"

"But I won't go alone!" his daughter objected. "I'll be -"

"You won't go at all!" Sal corrected her coolly. "Like I said: Even without the trouble all over the Isles I would never allow you to go out to follow this insane plan!"

"But -"

"No!" Sal said severely. "No thirteen year old daughter of mine will go out dragon hunting! Do you understand, donzelh Malfoire?"

His daughter pouted.

"I do," she said unhappily.

"And now return to your dorm and send your history professor to me," Sal added darkly. "I will have words with him for allowing you to go dragon hunting!"

"But Ana's -"

"Thankfully just your godparent," Sal intercepted. "And now off you go!"

His daughter pouted again, but in the end complied.

The moment she was gone, the potions professor of Hogwarts, otherwise known as Sal's wife, started to laugh.

Sal just frowned.

"I truly don't understand," he said sighing. "I'm a Ravenclaw. You're a Slytherin. How by wind and fire did we manage to rise a Gryffindor?"

Andromeda just kept laughing.

"I still blame Anastasius," she gasped between laughter. "I'm quite sure he bit her some when in the past and made her a Gryffindor!"

Sal rolled his eyes.

"Ana might be able to make a childe by biting a witch or wizard if he wanted to, but there's no way he'd be able to make them a Gryffindor by biting them!" He said amused.

"You sure, mieus amicx ?" Andromeda said, still giggling. "I think he managed quite well - or how else do you explain a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin producing a Gryffindor?"

Sal thought it over.

"I guess you're right," he finally said amused. "Seems like I have to defang him for that."

The answer was a yelp from the door.

Obviously Sal's wayward son had heard Sal's last sentence.

"It was a joke, Pater!" Anastasius exclaimed, backing away from his father. "Just a joke! I never meant her to take it seriously when I told her we could go and hunt a dragon! You wouldn't defang me for a joke, would you?"

Sal just raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

Anastasius gulped.

"I… I go and talk to her?" He offered stuttering.

Sal's mien didn't change.

Anastasius gulped again.

"And I help you in the medical wing for a week," at Sal's expressionless face, he amended his statement. "A month! A month!"

"That's alright," Andromeda said, nearly choking on her laughter. "But don't you dare to do it again!"

"I won't!" Anastasius promised, and when his father sighed he fled.

Sal raised an eyebrow at his son's tactical retreat.

"At least you have one of them under control," Andromeda said amused. "Even if it's technically the wrong one!"

Then she dissolved into laughter again.

Sal this time raised an eyebrow at her.

"Who said it was the wrong one?" He wanted to know. "With Anastasius trying to make things right again, he will end up stopping Perdita a lot more thoroughly than I ever could in the end!"

"Too true," Andromeda snorted. "Truly too true, mieus amicx !"

Then Sal couldn't help it anymore and started to laugh as well.

1449

"There was an attack on some travellers at the borders! They've fallen into a coma and won't wake anymore. Healers say that it looks as if they lost their souls somehow and the only thing left is their body," Anastasius exclaimed angrily. "I went there and I found the perpetrators, but whatever those things are - I can't fight them!"

Sal frowned at his son.

"Things?" He repeated darkly.

Anastasius nodded.

"Things," he confirmed. "I saw them - and they are horrible. I remembered my mother and first father dying and everything else that went horrible wrong in my life."

Sal's eyes darkened when he heard that.

"Dementors," he said and his son looked at him confused.

"You know what those things are?" He asked surprised.

Sal nodded and put away the last of the potions he had been stocking his infirmary with.

"I know what they are," he said darkly. "They are creatures you don't want to meet and don't want to cross."

"They're dangerous, then?" Anastasius asked concerned.

"Very," Sal answered darkly. "They belong to the immortal Firbolg."

Anastasius' eyes widened at that.

"But… if they are… shouldn't they -"

"They are born to spread fear," Sal said sighing. "They might be there to balance our world, but they are fearsome creatures as well - and they have long since gone further than what they should do. The entire race has fallen sometime in the past."

Anastasius frowned.

"Fallen?" He asked confused and Sal sighed.

"The lot of the immortal Firbolg is a hard one," he said. "Some of them loose themselves to the monsters within them, some of them turn into monsters when they lose their sanity and some burn to ashes and leave the world bereaved of themselves and their light. Not one of them will ever have a peaceful death."

"They lost their sanity," Anastasius concluded darkly.

"They lost their sanity," Sal affirmed sighing.

"And now they're here on the Isles," Anastasius said.

Sal's eyes darkened at that.

"How many?" He asked.

Anastasius shrugged.

"About twenty or thirty," he said. "I couldn't come too close. They noticed me before I could and I had to flee."

Sal looked Anastasius over.

"You weren't hurt, were you?" He asked concerned.

Anastasius shook his head.

"I wasn't, Pater," he said. "But they're gaining ground. Soon they will have terrorised half of the Isles."

Sal's eyes darkened further.

"Not for long," he promised. "I will go and talk them out of it."

Anastasius raised a surprised eyebrow at his father and Sal smiled darkly.

"I know how to get rid of them," he said. "I might not know how to deal with them in a way that they die, but I know how to force them to flee."

"Pater -"

"I'll be back in a week's time," Sal said, while patting his son's shoulder. "Don't worry about me. I know how to deal with them. If you want to, I will teach you when I return."

With that, Sal left the castle.

He found the dementors easily enough.

Surprisingly, they weren't alone.

They were in the company of a young boy - Sal easily guessed that the boy was a creature-born - half-dementor, half- something else.

The boy grinned at him when he saw him.

"Oh!" The boy exclaimed. "There's another one!"

The boy had dark hair and his eyes sparkled in a way that looked like the boy was a little bit insane as well. Sal wasn't too sure if the boy wasn't insane.

"How about another breakfast, my dears?" The boy asked and giggled.

The grin he send Sal after he had said that, was pure evil.

"I'm sure your eyes would look good in my collection," the boy giggled.

Sal's eyes narrowed.

"Either truly insane," he thought darkly. "Or evil. I'm still going with inherited insanity…"

Before he could think further about it, three of the dementors came at him.

Sal sighed.

There weren't that many dementors - a lot less than he had encountered back then when he had tried to rescue his godfather in his third year. Or was it in the future when he would rescue his godfather?

Sal ignored the thought and instead drew one of his wands.

He wasn't yet ready to just throw them out by force - but he also knew that the dementors were nobody he could reason with. They had long since lost any way to reason with them… and Sal couldn't afford to look weak in front of them.

He bared his teeth in a semblance of a smile.

"I fear I'm not a very good breakfast," he said. "I am actually here to ask you to find your breakfast elsewhere - and not on the Isles."

This was his last warning - a warning he had issued because of the boy and not because of the dementors.

The boy just laughed at that.

"Oh, you're funny!" He exclaimed. "Too bad that you'll end-up as their breakfast today!"

Sal rolled his eyes, then he ducked out of the way of the first dementor.

"Expecto patronum!" He cried.

Sal didn't know what he expected, but he definitely didn't expect the golden phoenix that came out of his wand instead of his old stag-patronus.

The phoenix cried, sending a thrilling song throughout the woods around him.

The dementors staggered. Then the first was touched by the patronus - and suddenly it cried out, fleeing from the light creature, clearly terrified of it.

The boy's eyes widened when he saw his companions fleeing from the golden construct of the phoenix.

Sal was a little bit surprised, that his phoenix actually tattered the dementors' clothes. This was not usual for a patronus, from what Sal knew of the spell.

He wondered what had changed that had changed his patronus not only into a phoenix but into something that actually hurt a dementor.

The boy's eyes meanwhile still followed Sal's patronus.

Then his eyes met Sal's.

Sal stared at the boy evenly.

"I don't condone any creatures hurting others," he said icily. "Stealing their souls is hurting them - and I won't let you continue doing that -"

The boy laughed harshly.

"As if a few stupid mortals like them matter!" He hissed. "They're all guilty in some way or form - I don't think that anybody will miss them!"

Then he giggled.

"And if they weren't guilty," the boy shrugged. "Then I made sure that they won't turn guilty in the future - doesn't matter. They're not important at all."

Sal's eyes narrowed.

"You have no right to decide anything like that," he pointed out coolly. "Killing them without a reason is nothing you should do - and don't try to tell me that the dementors need their souls to survive! You and I know that they don't!"

The boy grinned and shrugged at that.

"Nah," he said. "They don't."

Then he waved it off.

"But it doesn't actually matter to me," he said. "It's not as if I actually need a reason for killing them. I like to hear them scream - that's enough for me!"

Sal's eyes narrowed.

"Leave these lands," he said icily. "Murderers aren't welcome here."

The boy laughed harshly.

"As if I care!" He snickered and then pointed at Sal.

"Kill him!" He told the dementors.

Sal just redirected his patronus back into the fray of dementors - forcing them to flee.

Then one of the dementors was hit by his patronus head on and with a screech combusted into a shower of golden light.

Sal and the boy stared at the place where the combusted dementor had been.

Then the boy's eyes narrowed, staring icily at Sal.

"You will regret that," he threatened. "I will take you down! This island will tremble beneath my feet!"

And with that the boy grabbed one of the dementors and the dementors together with the boy fled the Isles.

Sal sighed unhappily, before staring at the place the combusted dementor had been in confusion.

"What, by wind and fire actually happened there?" He wondered, before shaking his head and returning to Hogwarts.

He guessed that he would have to do some research.

Dementors normally didn't combust when hit by a patronus - but then, the patronus wasn't a charm that was actually known in that time, so who knew if they had built up a resistance to patronus charms over the time?

Sal guessed that he would find out sometimes in the future…

1460

"Father! I need you!" His daughter cried. She was carrying her toddler daughter and was pregnant with another child. It had taken some time until she had been able to conceive - not unusual with witches and wizards - but now she was the mother of a smiling baby girl with black locks and grey eyes.

Sal finished the bandage he had been applying to one of the students and then turned to his daughter.

"What happened?" He asked concerned.

His daughter was pale, and fear was clearly visible in her eyes.

"She fell into the lake," she sobbed, handing him her daughter. "I did as you taught me and she's breathing again, but -"

"Calm down," he instructed her. "Sit down on the bed over there and I take a look at Emilia. It will be a lot easier if I don't have to worry about you going prematurely in labour while I tend to my first grandchild."

His daughter nodded and sat down while trying to calm her breathing.

Sal meanwhile took a look at his grandchild.

The girl was breathing, but unconsciousness.

With a few runes drawn onto the floor, he constructed a colourful magical dome above the child - his own version of a diagnostic charm.

"Don't worry," he said in the end, after interpreting the charm. "She's a little bit hypothermic, but it's going to be alright. I keep her here for the night, and tomorrow she should be right as rain."

Sadly, even with his diagnosis, the shock pulled his own daughter over the edge.

Sal's second grandchild, a little boy called Leontes, would be born three weeks early in the early morning of the next day.

Sal was very happy that he had been a healer for such a long time. He wasn't sure if the boy would have survived otherwise.

1473

"Pater," Anastasius said, entering the medical wing in hurried strides. "They're back!"

Sal looked up from the knee of the boy he had been bandaging.

"Who's back?" He asked a little bit preoccupied.

"The dementors," Anastasius replied darkly. "There're death cases near Londinium."

Sal's eyes darkened with fury.

"I go and take care of them," he said icily. "Tell the Headmaster I'm out if you please."

Anastasius sighed but nodded.

"I will, Pater," he said concerned. "Will you allow me to come with you?"

Sal looked his son over for a moment, then he sighed.

"You know the charm and can perform it?" He asked.

"I do and I can," Anastasius replied.

Sal nodded.

"Then tell the Headmaster and I tell my wife and we will meet at the entrance to Hogwarts in half an hour."

"Of course, Pater," and with that his son was gone.

Sal on the other hand went to the dungeons and the potion's classroom in search of his wife.

"Andromeda," Sal said darkly the moment he found her. "I have to go away for a bit, cherie . I'm sorry."

His wife frowned at him at that.

"Away?" She asked concerned. "Where to?"

"To the border of the Isles," Sal replied, his face concealing his fury. "There's something I need to take care of."

"What do you need to take care of out there?" Andromeda asked confused.

Sal just forced himself to smile at her.

"Nothing too concerning," he said. "I promise."

She frowned, but let him go anyway.

The second confrontation with the dementors didn't truly end different than the first - the only difference was that Anastasius' patronus was helping Sal's.

Anastasius' patronus was a white construct, exactly like Sal's stag had been - and it didn't kill dementors.

"Something," Sal said confused after they had forced the dementors away from the Isles. "Is wrong with my patronus."

Anastasius just raised an eyebrow.

"I thought it was the other way round," he said. "After all, your patronus at least kills those things - it's a lot more effective that way."

"But it shouldn't function that way," Sal said sighing. "And I have no idea why it does…"

"Have you researched it?"

Sal shrugged sighing.

"Everywhere I could," he said amused. "Everywhere I could."

Anastasius snorted.

"Figures," he said amused. "My father develops a charm and manages to be the sole exception to it as well!"

Sal rolled his eyes, but didn't correct his son's assumption that he had developed the spell. He had researched it - and it didn't exist yet. Since he had basically brought it to life, he had basically constructed it, even if he actually hadn't.

"Time-travel is definitely confusing, sometimes," he thought with a headshake. Then he decided to forget it and continue on like he always had.

He had long since given up on trying to figure out what had come into existence because of him and what would have existed anyway. His life was far too interwoven with time to keep those two parts apart.

1488

"Father!" Sal looked up from his work at the voice of his daughter.

"Perdita," he said frowning. "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be in France with your husband and children?"

The answer was a lot of tears.

"I was!" She cried, throwing herself at him as if she was still a little girl. "Sebastien and I were home and…" She shuddered. "The neighbours accused us of being witches!"

Again, tears started to leak and Sal froze after hearing those words. After the 'Malleus Maleficarum', the hammer against the witches, had been published the year before, all over Europe witch trials had started to be held. Sal could only think with dread about the fact that he knew from his lessons far in the future. The trials just now were just the beginning.

He shuddered at the thought.

Then his mind turned to his daughter's missing family.

"What happened to your husband and children?" He asked with dread.

"Emilia and her husband are alright," his daughter replied. Emilia was Sal's oldest grandchild. She was already married herself, even if she didn't have any children right now. But she wasn't his only grandchild.

"And the rest of the children and your husband?" He asked, dreading the answer.

The only answer were tears.

Sal closed his eyes and pulled his daughter closer while wishing desperately, that there would be a way to change time.

Regretfully, he knew that if they hadn't survived, nothing he did in the past would change that.

Sometimes, Sal hated his life!

1493

"Andromeda, cherie," Sal said sighing. "Please, think about it again."

The answer was a cool stare, and in the end, Sal just sighed and gave in. Being married to her for over a century has taught him when to object and when to give in.

Still…

"You know that we're both not the youngest anymore," he told her.

The answer was another cool stare.

"Even if I would be two hundred years old, mieus amicx," she said coolly. "I wouldn't miss this."

Sal sighed and closed his eyes.

"As you wish, donzelh," he finally replied.

She looked at him distrustfully as if she wasn't sure that he meant it, but in the end, she nodded satisfied with what she had been reading in his face.

"Don't forget to pack some warm clothes," she said.

Sal rolled his eyes in amusement, but inclined his head anyway.

"Of course, cherie," he said.

"Don't forget to write your uncle," Andromeda added. "He will want to know that we leave to Nuremberg for a few months."

"Of course, cherie," Sal said. He still couldn't believe that Andromeda wanted to travel across the country at her age. "You know that they would come by before long, don't you, cherie ?"

She threw him another exasperated look.

"Your granddaughter is having her first child - and you want to wait until she comes by after birth, mieus amicx ?" Andromeda looked at him icily.

"Well," Sal said hesitatingly. "Her husband is with her as well as our daughter - I should think that that's enough, isn't it?"

Andromeda snorted.

"This is our first great-grandchild!" She replied. "We won't miss the birth - even if we have to go to Nuremberg for it!"

"Yes, cherie," Sal said amused. "I got it. We won't miss the birth of our fist great-grandchild."

She looked at him, then huffed and turned back to packing.

Sal shook his head in amusement, but started to pack as well. It seemed that his wife was determined to be there for the birth itself - even if it was still months away.

Over the last century, Sal had gotten used to a family life. He was fond of his own wife and had been ecstatic when Nicholas had found a little orphan girl when Sal had officially been forty-two. Of course, a lot of people had talked about Sal and Andromeda's missing children. There had been rumours that Andromeda was barren - of course those rumours had stopped, when Nicholas and Sal finally had found an orphan baby girl. Sal and Andromeda had taken in the child, adopted her with the same potion that had been used on Sal and then told everyone that she was their daughter by flesh.

Thanks to a little deception, nobody doubted the claim.

Sal's daughter had even managed to have a child herself before Sal's father had died, so that he and Sal's mother had been able welcome their first and now only great-grandchild. Sal's father had died a year after the little girl's birth and his mother had followed two years later.

Sal, at that time, had long since been the Lord of Malfoire. Of course, he had mourned his parents, but he had been quite occupied with his little granddaughter, his daughter, the students and his wife, so in the end he grieved, but moved on.

Sal was quite sure that it would be different when Andromeda would finally die. She was more than five years over the century's mark as well, and Sal feared that Andromeda's time on Earth soon would be up.

Andromeda on the other hand didn't see it like that at all. She was still quite lively for her age and she had promised Sal repeatedly that she would last at least another ten years or more.

"I'm a Black," she said amused every time he voiced his fears. "If your parents managed to live for a hundred years, then a Black like me - one of those who have a naturally long life-span - should at least last ten years more than them. I'm trying for twenty."

Sal couldn't even object to her goal, because losing the woman who had turned into his best friend was something he feared quite a lot.

"Have you packed everything and written your uncle, mieus amicx ?" Andromeda asked in that moment. Sal looked up from where he was packing the last things Andromeda wanted to take with them.

"I have, cherie," he said. "We're good to go."

"Good," she nodded.

"I still think that we should at least travel by apparation for part of the way," Sal dared to add.

The answer was another cool stare.

"We're not using that new death trap of magic," Andromeda said.

Sal sighed.

"Apparation isn't a death trap," he said half-amused, half-exasperated.

Andromeda just raised an eyebrow.

"Haven't you listened when they talked about the accidents that happened thanks to that death trap?" She asked him stubbornly. "No, we're using the normal method, brooms and carriages - not that idiotic way of suicide the young generation thinks it has to use. We're not thirty anymore, mieux amicx !"

"But it would be way faster!" Sal objected. "And it's not truly new anyway. Thousands of people have apparated long before they found out how to do it deliberately -"

"And even more have hurt themselves badly while doing so," Andromeda countered.

Sal had to admit that she had a point.

"Unlike others, I would be able to heal it," he argued.

"Of course you would be," Andromeda said, not even thinking about objecting him. Sal was well-known as the current healer of Hogwarts, after all - and as one of the best healers of the known world.

"But it's still a death trap," Andromeda added in that moment. "It's an absolute idiotic way to move from one place to another. I'm quite sure that others will soon agree and that whole imbecility will be forgotten over long. Until then, we will continue to use the proper method of travelling - do you understand, mieux amicx ?"

"Of course, cherie," Sal replied, still half-amused, half-exasperated. "As you wish, donzelh ."

He didn't believe that wizards would stop to use apparation in the future, but he had long since accepted that Andromeda had her own views - and some of them couldn't be changed. Part of that was her distaste for apparation which had started to truly exist just thirty years ago.

"Truly," Sal's wife said in that moment while shaking her head. "What people come up with to fasten up travelling! The next thing they'll tell me is that you're going to travel through fire!"

For a moment Sal was tempted to agree with her, vividly remembering his second year at Hogwarts in the future and his trip through the floo. Then he decided not to tempt fate and closed his mouth again. He didn't want to get into another discussion - especially since he would have to tell her about his time travelling to be able to explain his knowledge and he had never dared to tell her about that tit-bit ever before.

Andromeda, still deep in thought, shook her head again and then sighed.

"Do we have everything, mieux amicx ?" She asked him finally.

"We do, cherie," he replied and she nodded.

"Then let's go," and with that they left to their journey to Nuremberg.

Of course, when they finally arrived, they were at least a month to early.

"Honestly, Mother," Perdita said amused. "We would have come by with the little one as soon as we could. You didn't have to travel through half of Europe to get here!"

"You and I know that your father is the best healer out there!" Andromeda replied at that to her daughter. "Of course we came!"

Her daughter sighed, but smiled.

"I'm happy you're here, Mother," she said. "I truly am. I just meant that you didn't have to go through all that trouble!"

"It's our first great-grandchild! Of course we would go through all that trouble!" Andromeda replied amused. "And now be a dear and tell Emilia we're here!"

"Yes, Mother," Perdita replied.

That evening, Sal left his daughter, wife and granddaughter alone to catch-up. His granddaughter's husband was away on a political dinner his wife couldn't attend thanks to her pregnancy and Sal had no intention to be anywhere near the house when his girls decided to have a girls' night.

So he had decided to wander the streets of Nuremberg.

It was late autumn and while Sal walked the streets, the first snow of the year started to fall. Sal sighed and looked up to the sky. He guessed that they would have Yule in Nuremberg this year.

" Entschuldeget er," a voice suddenly spoke up from behind.

Sal turned and looked at the man who had stepped out of the entrance to an inn.

"How can I help you, hêrre ?" Sal asked in the German of the 1400s, a little bit confused that the man would take the time to talk to a stranger on the street. It wasn't something people often did in this time and age.

"You have the markings of a healer, meister hêrre," the stranger replied and Sal's eyes narrowed.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," he said slowly. Even if the witch trials weren't yet at its peak, it still was good to be cautious.

The other man hesitated, then he sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"Please, meister hêrre," he begged. "If you truly are what I think you are, don't deny it… I… I could use the help of someone like you."

"What do you mean with 'someone like me', hêrre ?" Sal asked, his eyes narrowing further.

"A crêatiure-nachgeborn like you, meister hêrre," the man replied, and Sal's eyebrow rose.

"How did you come up with the theory that I'm a creature-born?" He asked interested.

The man sighed.

"I can smell it," he answered, and when Sal's eyes narrowed again, he raised his hands to calm him.

"I'm an Elder Dragon," he blurted out. "I can smell the dragon in your blood. It's diluted, meaning you have to be a crêatiure-nachgeborn, but it's still there - and it's strong."

Sal looked at the man in surprise.

"I thought the Elder Dragons are gone, hêrre," he said, unable to censure his words in his surprise.

The other man winced.

"We are," he said. "The most of us have long since lost their sanity. Beasts, we are now, normal dragons, not better than any other beast in this world." He shook his head.

"I'm the last one - or at least one of the last," he said tiredly. "I don't know how long I will continue to exist in this world like that. Even now I feel my sanity slipping."

"There's nothing I can do to help with that, hêrre," Sal replied sadly.

"I know," the Elder Dragon replied, his face a painful grin. "But I didn't stop you to ask for your help with that, meister hêrre ."

"You asked for a healer," Sal pointed out.

"But not for that," the Elder Dragon replied. "I asked for you to stop, because I can feel the Pendragon in your blood, meister hêrre ."

Sal's eyes narrowed again.

"I'm not sure what you mean," he said slowly.

The Elder Dragon blinked as if he hadn't even suspected a reply like that.

"The Pendragon," he repeated, and when Sal's face didn't change, he sighed. "Your father should have told you something important like that," he mumbled while shaking his head in despair. "Whatever Elder Dragon your father was, he was an idiot for not telling you about your inheritance, meister hêrre !"

Sal blinked.

Elder Dragon?

Father?!

It was then that he put two and two together and for a moment he wanted to groan. The Elder Dragon thought that Sal was the son of another Elder Dragon! For a moment, Sal was tempted to correct the other man, then he sighed and decided to let it be for now. He would ask the important things first - and then the rest. His own heritage could wait. It would be far too complicated to explain it in a few sentences anyway…

"What exactly is a 'Pendragon' for an Elder Dragon, hêrre ?" He asked instead.

The other man seemed of have resigned himself to the role of a teacher already, because he started to explain without further ado.

"It implies the age of an Elder Dragon, meister hêrre," he explained patiently. "It means you are at least a thousand years old. Your blood is basically leaking your age. The older an Elder Dragon is, the less others want to disobey them. The older we get, the more dangerous we are, after all."

When Sal raised an eyebrow, the other man just shrugged.

"It's mostly knowledge that makes us more dangerous compared to younger Elder Dragons, meister hêrre," he said. "Knowledge and the fact that we're basically interwoven with the land itself. There's a reason why every magical royal family in the world has Elder Dragon blood in their veins. The longer an Elder Dragon lives in a country, the more he is interwoven with its magic and the more he will try to protect it. And you, wherever you are from, are a Pendragon who's quite tightly interwoven with his country."

Sal frowned a little but unsure what the Elder Dragon was trying to explain to him exactly.

"Interwoven how?" He finally asked.

The Elder Dragon shrugged.

"Mostly with the land," he said. "The more often an Elder Dragon uses magic on one particular space of land - or the stronger magic he uses there - the better he can use magic there later on. His magic basically connected with the land beneath his feet, and as long as he uses magic that is connected to the ground in that particular place, he won't have trouble with spells he would have trouble with everywhere else."

"I'm still not sure I understand, hêrre," Sal confessed. It was a surprising experience for him. He hadn't felt that undereducated for a long, long time now.

"It's simple," the Elder Dragon shrugged. "If you put up a ward here on this street, or if you use any kind of other magic, then your magic connects with the land beneath your feet. The next time you're here in this particular street and you try to put up a ward, you might even be able to put up two or three or four or whatever - the more magic or the stronger the magic you used here before was, the better you can use the land in your casting. It's called 'interweaving spells'. Basically, you put up the ward once and with the help of your connection with the land, you simply copy it instead of putting it up a second time next to the first. It's something an Elder Dragon does naturally. It's also the reason why you're stronger in some places than in others."

Sal's eyes widened at that.

He remembered the Great Battle of the North Fields - in about the same place he had landed when he had met Myrddin - and he remembered his troubles in the village with Godric.

"Interweaving spells," he repeated surprised. "Huh? Who would have thought that it would take that long to find out the reason for all those inconsistencies…"

The Elder Dragon snorted.

"Of course," he added to Sal's musing. "If you're a royal, the whole thing is nearly moot. The moment you take up the crown, you are connected to the country as a whole, meaning that even with your meagre powers you could beat the snot out of everyone who dared to enter your country."

Sal just raised an eyebrow.

"You can't take the crown without the approval of the people," he pointed out. "The king's power is based on the belief of the people. If they don't belief and respect him, then his power is nearly non-existent. If they do - then others shouldn't even dare to think about crossing them."

The Elder Dragon waved it off.

"It's a moot point for both of us," he said. "Royals are always descendants of crêatiure-nachgeborn . You and I both are crêatiure-nachgeborne, there's no way we could be royal - even with you being a Pendragon."

Sal's eyes narrowed again when he finally came to the second point he had wanted to have clarified before.

"But how do you know that I'm a creature-born?" He asked with narrowed eyes. "I could be an Olde one for all you know."

The Elder Dragon just smiled at him.

"Your blood screams of fire," he said. "I can feel it cursing through your veins. There's death around you, clouding and shielding you and I can feel the beast inside you rearing its head. It might have been hundreds of years since I felt it last, but I remember the feeling of an Elder Dragon quite well, meister hêrre ."

"I could still be -"

The other man just shook his head.

"For all an Olde one has inherited part of our power - they have lost a lot of it as well," he said. "They might be able to throw fire if they are the descendant of an Elder Dragon, but the ember in their veins is nearly extinguished. The further you are away from the sire of your line, the more the fire blasting through your veins turns to embers. The ember might always be there, always be able to set aflame if they need it - but it's still not the same."

Sal's eyebrows furrowed.

He knew quite well that he was only a descendant of an Elder Dragon. He wasn't a creature-born - if you didn't count him as a second-generation one, since Myrddin had been a creature-born and Sal's other birth-parents had been Olde ones…

"Fire in my veins?" He repeated, still a little bit confused.

The Elder Dragon nodded.

"Blasting, wild, destructive," he replied. "So unlike the soothing flames of a phoenix. You should know that it's there. You should be feeling it."

Sal frowned.

Then he remembered the white flames that had enveloped him when he had tried to kill himself.

Blasting, wild, destructive - a fitting description for them…

But they were the flames of a phoenix, weren't they?

On the other hands, Sal had learned to use flames with his hands - but only with his hands. He had no control over them otherwise. The only exception had been the day he had tried to kill himself, and back then he hadn't controlled the flames, back then they had controlled him…

They had been phoenix fire.

Purifying - but destructive.

Uncontrolled - wild.

White and cold and death-bringing - blasting and dangerous not only for him…

Phoenix or Elder Dragon?

And who could tell the difference when they were both part of his blood?

Then the Elder Dragon laughed.

"You don't have to think up an argument to deny it," he said. "I can feel the fire in your veins and the serpent-like beast in your mind. You might suppress them both, but they are still there, as much as you deny it. Your connection to the land, your status as a Pendragon, just tells me that both of it is the sign that you are an Elder Dragon's crêatiure-nachgeborn and not the son of a phoenix and a basilisk mixed with something else or something like that…"

Sal's eyes narrowed.

"Why a basilisk?" He asked. "Why not any other magical serpent-like beast?"

The Elder Dragon shrugged.

"There aren't that many who can sire children with other species," he said. "And the basilisk is the only one of them who bears the same curse as the Elder Dragon. They will lose their mind someday, like we will lose ours - but unlike us, they can and will turn against their own children and grandchildren as well when it happens. If their child or grandchild is near them, they will kill it - it's in the nature of their beast. I can't remember a case when the child survived its parents or grandparents bite if it was bitten. I don't think the world wants to know the result of a child surviving its sire's bite."

Sal's inner eye replayed a memory of his second year in Hogwarts.

A sword stabbing the head of a basilisk and a fang embedding itself into a young boy's arm.

"This wasn't my grandmother," he tried to tell himself, feeling suddenly quite sick to his stomach. "And even if it was, she wasn't my grand-mother back then."

He definitely hadn't survived his grandmother's bite…

Sal shook off the thought. He never tried to think about the future if he didn't have to. It wasn't worth contemplating if the basilisk he had killed was his grandmother or not. He couldn't change it now - and he doubted that he would be able to change it in the future as well…

He turned away from the thought back to the Elder Dragon in front of him.

"Even if you're right with all that," he said. "That doesn't explain why you stopped me."

The Elder Dragon smiled tiredly.

"You're a Pendragon," he said. "You're a healer, aren't you, meister hêrre ? I can feel your healer's oath even if it isn't activated right now, meaning that you have been a healer for a very long time - long enough that every sworn potion's master or healer would automatically defer to you if he had to work together with you…"

Sal frowned a bit at that. It was a well-kept secret that in times when healers had to work together, one of them - the most experienced one - would automatically proclaimed to be the lead-healer. It was magic, magic that was part of the healer's oath that determined the rank of a healer when working with others.

Thanks to Sal's age and experience even before he had even sworn the oath, he had nearly always been in the position of the lead-healer.

That the Elder Dragon knew just meant that he had at least done a mastery in potions, if he wasn't a healer himself.

"You're a potion's master, hêrre ?" Sal guessed and the Elder Dragon nodded.

"I've been one for about five-hundred years," he confirmed and Sal frowned.

"If you are that old, why do you approach me, hêrre ?" he asked confused. "You might just be a potion's master - but I doubt that you didn't learn enough of the healing arts over all those hundreds of years to treat what ails you…"

The answer was a sigh.

"Nothing is ailing me," the Elder Dragon said. "It's more that after the Romans conquered nearly all of Europe, a lot of ancient Germanic knowledge has been lost. I know that what I'm looking for existed once, but I can't find any sources about it now. You are a healer - and you have been a healer longer than I have been a potion's master…"

"You hope I know what you're looking for," Sal concluded surprised.

The Elder Dragon nodded and Sal sighed.

"Alright," he said. "Let's talk somewhere else - somewhere warm preferably - and I will see what I can do."

The Elder Dragon smiled.

"Thank you, meister hêrre," he said. "I am Wilhelm Bombastus von Hohenheim."

Sal's eyes narrowed at that.

"This is not your original name," he accused. He knew that back then the magicals all over Europe had still used three first names - and creature-borns mostly followed that custom still.

The Elder Dragon smiled.

"No," he said. "It's the name I have currently taken as my own."

Sal inclined his head.

"Salvatio Amethyst Malfoire," he said. "The same circumstances as you."

The Elder Dragon laughed.

Then he gestured for Sal to follow him.

He led them to a house at the outer circles of Nuremberg, near the wall.

"This is where my wife and I live," he said before opening the door and leading Sal deeper into the house.

The living room was occupied by a woman with sharp features and fangs.

Vampire, Sal immediately recognized.

"My wife Serafina," Wilhelm said.

Sal inclined his head.

" Frowe," he greeted her and she smiled before looking at her husband inquiringly.

"He's a healer," Wilhelm replied. "And he's my elder."

Her eyes widened at that, then something akin to hope started to show in them.

Sal instead turned to the Elder Dragon.

"Now," he said, after Wilhelm had invited him to sit down and Serafina had brought some wine. "Can you please explain to me why you need my help?"

The couple exchanged a look.

"We can't have children," Wilhelm finally said sighing. "It might not be often that it happens with creatures as us, but it happens."

Sal inclined his head. Creatures had a lower birth-rate than wizards or muggles, but the chances of one of them being unable to have children was lower as well. Mostly, it would just take a lot of time until they conceived, but that didn't mean that they were unable to.

Regretfully even with creatures it could happen - and he guessed that the couple had used the spell and potion that could confirm things like that already. Both, spell and potion weren't infallible, but together you could mostly trust them.

Sal was just glad that both, spell and potion would only start to be semi-reliable after the magic of the children had matured fully and if they were taken with the their full conscience, meaning that by then, the children normally were already married and considered adults - otherwise he wasn't sure if some parents wouldn't have disowned their child when they found out.

"We found a baby boy," the vampire woman added. "We want to make him our own."

Sal's eyebrows furrowed.

"The potion -"

"Gives him access to our family magic," Wilhelm interrupted him. "But we are both creatures. He wouldn't be our own with the potion - because if he was he would have part of our soul."

"Of course," Sal thought while shaking his head inwardly. "A Firbolg gives part of their soul to create a child. A normal adoption potion would not give him access to his parents' creature inheritance. He would be able to use a gift or two, but he wouldn't be considered their full child in the eyes of the other Firbolg."

"We heard that there once was a ritual that made sure that even people like us could adopted a child fully," Wilhelm said. "The rumour said that he would be reborn as my son if we used that ritual - and we want it. If there's a way -"

"How old is he?" Sal interrupted the Elder Dragon.

The couple exchanged a glance.

"A few weeks," Wilhelm replied finally. "We found him abandoned in the woods just shortly after his birth - at least that's what we guess. We don't even know if he has magic or not, currently."

Sal nodded.

He knew that with the adoption it didn't truly matter. He would inherit the magic of his parents - the Firbolg-soul parts he would gain would ensure it.

"This won't be easy," he warned them, remembering the ritual that had given him a father all those years ago. "But he's young, he shouldn't have any problems to accept your soul-parts as his own. His soul is not yet formed enough that it can't accept another soul-part as its own."

Wilhelm and Serafina exchanged a surprised and even more hopeful look.

"You know the ritual we were talking about," Wilhelm said amazed. "You know how to do it!"

Sal inclined his head.

"I was trained as a druid," he said. "I also was part of it once before."

The couple smiled.

"Will you do it, meister hêrre ?" Wilhelm finally asked. "I promise you that we will make it worth your time. Just tell us what you want and we will try to give it to you!"

Sal sighed and shook his head.

"I don't require anything," he said truthfully. "I am a healer. It is my calling to help those people who need me, and while I never object to an offering since I have to live as well - I won't ask for anything."

The couple exchanged another look, then Wilhelm nodded.

"We will pay you anyway," he declared. "Now tell us what you need!"

It was three weeks and a half later when Sal and Wilhelm and Serafina met again. They had found an old stone-circle not far from Nuremberg and Sal had cleaned the circle thoroughly for the ritual. The ritual was planned for nightfall - something that was required for this ritual - and slowly darkness ascended the sky.

It would be a long day, today. The ritual would take some time and the return to the city would take a lot of time afterwards as well. Sal couldn't believe that the ritual he was now doing, hidden away in the woods, had been once done openly on the hills.

The whole thing was odd, to him.

It had been centuries since he had last used a ritual circle - and even longer since he had done this particular ritual.

It was like a look into a long forgotten memory - and it hurt, considering that the people in that memory were long since dead and gone.

When the couple and their little future son arrived, Sal was just finishing the runes and circles he had been drawing into the earth.

"Pull of your and your son's clothes and put them down somewhere outside the circle," he said. "No clothes within the circle."

The couple nodded and did what he told them while he drew the last of the runes into the earth. When they were finished, they stopped right outside the circle, looking a little bit nervously at it. Sal's lips twitched in amusement when he remembered that he hadn't been different when he had been part of the ritual all those years ago.

"Don't step on the drawn runes," he told the couple before gesturing for them to enter the stone-circle and walk into its mid where a stone-bed was waiting for their son.

"Put him down in there," he said. "Then Serafina will kneel behind his head and Wilhelm will kneel at his feet."

The couple did as they were told and Sal pulled out a knife.

"I will have to slit one of your wrists each," he told the couple. "And use your blood to draw runes on your son."

Then he frowned.

"I did tell you to bring a third person for the godfather part, didn't I?" He confirmed a bit confused.

"You did," Wilhelm said. "But we decided that the least we can do is to give you the place as his godfather. You are the one who's giving us our son, after all!"

Sal frowned at that.

The responsibilities and rights of a godfather were nearly as important as the ones of a parent.

His last godchildren had been Helily, Nicholaos and Antioch, the Founders' children.

It hurt to think about them.

And yet, he would be exposed to that hurt yet again.

He couldn't reject the offer of Wilhelm and Serafina - even if he knew that it would hurt in the end when their son would die sometime in the future…

"Thank you," he finally settled on and the future parents smiled at him.

Sal was quite sure that he would get to know them quite well in the end. He had always been a responsible father and godfather, meaning that he would make sure that his children and godchildren wouldn't have to grow up without him.

"Then let's do this," he finally said. "You know what you have to say?"

The couple nodded and Sal stepped closer and then slit first the vampire woman's then the Elder Dragon's wrist.

Then he took their blood to draw the runes on the confused looking baby boy.

He stepped back and out of the circle.

For a moment, he closed his eyes, then he took a deep breath and activated the circle. White light filled the woods around them.

Then Serafina took the head of her child into her hands, kissing his forehead.

"You are my son," she intoned and the ritual started.

The stone-circle lit in a blue light, blue flames dancing in the night sky.

"You are my flesh."

The runes Sal had written with Serafina's blood on the boy lit up in blue fire before spreading beneath the child's skin. Sal was quite happy that there hadn't been a Horcrux involved this time around. He wouldn't have fancied the idea of carving runes into the skin of a little child. He even shuddered jus at that thought.

"You are my son," Serafina continued.

The fire enveloped the little boy, but clearly didn't seem to hurt him in any way or form.

"You are my soul."

This time the boy whined, clearly a little uncomfortable, but not truly hurting at the same time.

Serafina swayed for a moment before she continued.

"You are my son." She said, her grip tightening.

"I give birth to you today."

This time the boy started to cry when the changes in his heritage started to affect his body.

"I name you today. You are my son, your name is Philippus."

This time Wilhelm joint in. He kissed the feet of his son.

"You are my son," he intoned. "You are my flesh."

The light surrounding the boy changed and he wiggled a little bit more, still crying softly. It was clear that the parents wished nothing but to sooth the boy, but as long as the ritual was in place, they couldn't do anything.

The ritual would have to finish first or it would kill the child.

"You are my son," Wilhelm continued. "You are my soul."

The little boy's crying turned into sobbing.

"You are my son," Wilhelm said. "I give birth to you today."

Again, the changes in the boy's heritage made the little boy cry louder.

"I name you today. Your name is Theophrastus," he said.

Sal stepped up next to the father. One of his hands got hold of the little boy's right shoulder.

"I name you my godson," He intoned, like his own godfather Ollivanneder had spoken so long ago. "Your name is Aureolus."

Sal actually didn't know where he had gotten that name from, but it had been the first one he had thought of, and it somehow seemed fitting for the little boy, so he gave it.

"So be Bombastus" Serafina finished. "Because I named you my son. Be von Hohenheim, because your father Wilhelm named you his son, be Malfoire, because Salvatio Malfoire named you his godson."

Sal winced a little at the last bit, but full names didn't matter in this ritual. As long as the parents first names were right and the magic could find a way to connect to the people the little boy should be connected to, the names in this ritual were not that important - with the exception of the name of the child itself.

Since Sal was Salvatio Malfoire and had been named it by his parents, it wasn't a lie, and therefore legal for the ritual. There were other rituals were names mattered a lot more, but normally, as long as you considered the name you were using yours, it didn't matter in the adoption ceremony if you weren't the child.

In that moment a dazzling bright light erupted form the little boy's body - and then the light stopped. The darkness of the early night returned.

The ritual was done.

Immediately, Serafina scooped up her child and soothed it.

Wilhelm on the other hand turned and hugged Sal.

"Thank you," he said while swaying on his feet. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, meister hêrre !"

Sal, a little bit uncomfortable, patted the other man's shoulder.

"You're welcome," he said. "You're very welcome indeed."

With that he helped the new little family home before returning to his grand-daughters house.

The moment he opened the door, Andromeda already accosted him.

"You're just in time," she told him. "Emilia has gone into labour!"

Sal groaned.

It seemed that this would be a long day, today - and even longer than he had anticipated…

But in the end, Sal didn't mind it at all. He smiled when he helped to give birth to his first great-grandson.

"His name is Maximillus," his granddaughter said smiling.

Sal smiled tiredly at the little boy.

"Welcome to the world, little Maximillus," he said smiling. "Welcome to the world."

1505

When Andromeda died, it happened without any warning.

One day, she had been pottering around like always, the next, she simply never woke up.

It was a heart-breaking experience for Sal.

"I'm sorry, son," his Oncle Nick told him when they buried her. "I'm sorry."

Sal just smiled at his Oncle who had started to work at Hogwarts about ten years ago.

"It's alright," he said before taking a deep breath. "It's alright. I knew she was old. I'm not that surprised that she died."

His Oncle just patted his back.

"If you need sum we're here," he told Sal and Sal nodded.

For the next months, he buried himself in work. He worked as a healer in Hogwarts and took over his wife's position as a potion's master until someone else could be found. His wife had loved to work as a potion's mistress and therefore held the position in Hogwarts until her death.

Anastasius had left Hogwarts and was currently somewhere on the country - Sal had no idea where - and Sal's grandparents also weren't at Hogwarts, but somewhere else in the world - Sal guessed the Sahara. Sal didn't mind too much that the rest of his family wasn't there, even if he had a hard time to console his daughter and granddaughter at the same time.

And maybe, Sal would have stayed at Hogwarts for a little bit longer, if the rumours hadn't started to spread again.

Then rumours about unnatural coldness, ice and bad memories.

"Perdita," Sal said finally to his daughter who had started to help him in the hospital wing for quite some time. "Would you mind taking care of the hospital wing alone?"

His daughter looked at him warily.

"You don't plan on dying, do you, Father?" She asked, fear in her eyes.

Sal just smiled and shook his head.

"I don't," he said. "But I want to go wandering. I can't continue to stay here - I need to get out and wander. I promise, I will return, but I don't want to stay."

His daughter looked at him confused.

"Father," she said hesitatingly. "You're two years older than Mother. Do you really think that you should go wandering at your age?"

Sal smiled and shrugged.

"Why not?" He asked lightly. Except of his uncle and aunt nobody knew that he would not die for a long, long time. His wife had known that he would live a lot longer than she, but even she hadn't known the full extend and the reason why he was different. In his children's eyes, he looked as old as he should look if he had aged somewhat naturally.

Sal didn't plan to tell them anything different than they knew. It was better if not too many people knew of his continued existence - especially considering that some people might come after him just because of it.

So when his daughter just gawked at him, he smiled at her, touched her cheek and caressed it.

"I will be fine," he said. "Don't worry about me. I will write you ever so often."

Perdita blinked, then she sighed.

"If that's what you wish, Father," she said. "Then I wish you well."

"I will return," Sal said earnestly. "I promise."

With that he left the castle to hunt down the newest rumours about the dementors.

Not even two days later, Sal had reached the sea.

Over the last few months he had gotten more and more reports of people being found in a coma, of icy lands and fog. It had taken him a while to remember why he found those findings suspicious, and the moment he did remember, he knew he had to go there and stop them.

Unsurprisingly, when he found them, they weren't alone.

"Oh, look who goes there," the man in their mid giggled. Sal had never met that man before - but he remembered the boy from all those years ago - and considering that he was wearing human skulls as jewellery, Sal didn't think that he was that eager to make the man's acquaintance. "Oh, how beautiful! Seems like someone came here to meet the old Ekrizdis, after all! How lovely to make your acquaintance! Looks like my babies will be well fed tonight!"

Sal let his gaze roam over the dementors surrounding the man - Ekrizdis, if the man was to believe.

It also didn't look like the man remembered Sal - but then, Sal looked now a lot younger than he had at their first encounter…

"I don't think that they are your babies in any way or form," he commented.

The man just snickered.

"They listen to me, child," he said with the logic of either the evil of the insane - Sal wasn't yet sure which actually applied to the man. "That means they are mine."

"I doubt that they will listen to you anymore when your entertainment factor has vanished," Sal replied dryly.

The other man just giggled.

"If that's what you think, child," he said. Then he gestured at Sal. "Feed from him now. I'm tired of his babbling."

The dementors immediately eagerly came at Sal - at least until the first actually touched him.

Sal could only look at the dementor in surprise, when it suddenly screeched in fear and then continued to burst into flames. Over the flames, the soft thrills of a phoenix could be heard.

The other dementors at that floated backwards.

The man in their midst frowned.

"That hasn't happened before," he said, sounding a little confused.

"He's a child of our blood," one of the dementors rattled. "Unnatural! Half-breed! Soul-destroyer!"

Sal looked at the dementors in interest at that. He had only once seen a dementor dying - but the combusting had been a lot different than the death of the current dementor. Yet, the moment one of them had tried to touch him, they had burst into flames. This hadn't happened when he was still in the future…

"I guess something definitely changed since the future and now," he thought surprised. And that something had not only made his patronus, but also himself basically toxic for dementors…

"Wonder how that happened…"

Before he could muse about it further, Ekrizdis, half-dementor, half-human, spoke up.

"Unnatural?" The human asked confused. "Why? He's just the same as all the others…"

"Phoenix-breed," the dementor hissed. "Phoenix-breed with our blood. Deadly! Bastard! Unnatural!"

Sal looked surprised at his hands at that.

It had been his adoption by his atr that changed his danger-status towards the dementors?

"Kill it! Destroy it! Can't let it live!" the dementor rattled. "Danger! Deadly! Unnatural!"

And with that, the other dementors glided forward towards Sal.

Sal frowned at them.

He had originally come to just see what was happening - but now he was actually facing those creatures alone.

"Ironic," he thought bitterly. "That it has to happen here again. The last time I was forced to stop the Vikings in this very place - and now I'm here again to stop another threat. Why by wind and fire am I always alone when I have to confront a new might-be conqueror of Britain in this part of the country?"

Sadly, nobody dared to answer that question…

Sal sighed, then he closed his eyes and concentrated on the fire within himself.

He wouldn't be able to do a lot, but maybe he would be able to do enough.

With that thought he ducked out of the way of the advancing dementors, before pulling out his wand.

"Expecto patronum!" he whispered.

Instead of a stag, an already known phoenix burst from the tip of his wand.

The phoenix was alight with golden fire and it dove into the dementors as if they were candy. All around Sal, the dementors caught fire. Some of them tried to kill Sal's phoenix with their fog, but the fury Sal felt drove this construct of fire and positive emotions further.

Those creatures had attacked Sal's people again and again.

Those creatures had dared to invade the kingdom of Sal's father, no matter how often Sal had driven them of.

Those creatures had threatened and attacked Sal's loved ones and Sal himself in the past or future without mercy.

Sal had enough.

They would pay for it.

When his phoenix started to flicker, Sal knelt down onto the earth and pressed his hands into it. Like Peverell had done it once, all those years ago, Sal concentrated and then fed his flames and his fury into the earth itself, willing it to burst out of the earth all around him to encircle his opponents.

For a moment, he could feel the drain that not only the spell but also the fire-circle had onto his magic, then the circle burst into the open and took two more dementors down before encircling the rest.

"I am Salvazsahar Pendragon," Sal said icily. "And this is my country to police, to protect and to rule. You, who have trespassed on these lands, have no right to be here. Be gone!"

The dementors screeched again, this time their fear nearly visible.

"Please, Pendragon," one of them whispered and Sal was surprised that the dementor even knew that word. "We will leave this land - just don't kill us!"

Sal thought about it.

He hadn't actually planned to kill them all. They, like any other Firbolg, had a place in the world. They just didn't have a place in Sal's country.

Still, Sal definitely wouldn't tell them that he had never planned to kill them all.

He was a healer first, after all. He killed to protect the innocent from their clutches, he killed when they attacked him - but he definitely wouldn't murder them in cold blood.

Also, there were too many to kill - and too many to control with just his own magic.

No, he had to do it differently if he wanted to win in the end…

Right now, he had the upper hand. He had to use this chance - who knew if he got another one like that, after all?

"A contract," he finally said. "Between you and me. No dementor will ever cast anther shadow on this country - and I will let you be."

The dementors didn't actually speak with each other, but a few minutes later, one of them spoke up for all of them anyway.

"We agree," the dementor said.

Sal just shot another look at the wizard in their midst.

"And you will take your pet with you," he added. He didn't need another evil wizard on the Isles - especially if said wizard might actually be evil and insane.

"Agreed," the dementor said again.

"The moment one of your own enters these lands, I have the right to kill them," Sal added.

Again, there was a short bout of silence, then the dementor spoke again.

"Agreed."

And with that started the contract that would govern the interactions between Sal and the dementors until way in the future.

1509

"Wilhelm," Sal greeted the man when the door was opened.

The Elder Dragon smiled at him the moment he recognized him.

"Salvatio," he said. "You look a little bit younger than I remember you."

Sal just answered with a smile of his own.

"Magic," he said, not interested in explaining if he meant his older form or the currently younger form with that reply. Sal again looked like twenty-something - his preferred age, mostly.

He had come to the future Germany to meet Wilhelm and his family, after the Elder Dragon had ask him to.

"Philippus wants to learn to be a healer," Wilhelm told Sal when he opened the door further. "I hoped that you would be willing to take over his training."

Sal just inclined his head.

"If that's what he wishes to do, then I'm quite willing to help," he replied unconcerned. "But if I take over his training, he will have to leave and wander with me. I… currently feel a little bit… restless. I fear that I can't imagine myself to stay in one place for quite some time for now."

The Elder Dragon just nodded.

"That's fine," he said. "You're his godfather, and it's not as if my wife and I won't ever see Philippus again."

"We will visit every so often," Sal promised.

Then they stepped into the living room where a young boy and Wilhelm's wife Serafina were seated.

The boy saw Sal and jumped to his feet.

"Gevatter!" He greeted his godfather enthusiastically. "How good to see you again!"

Sal had been visiting the child regularly - sometimes even with Andromeda, when she had been still alive.

"Philippus," he greeted the child. "I heard you want to be a healer?"

"I do, Gevatter! I do!" The boy said enthusiastically. "Are you here to teach me?"

"If that's what you want, then I am quite willing to do so, Philippus," Sal replied amused.

Many years later, the name 'Philippus Theophrastus Aureolus Bombastus von Hohenheim' would be nearly unknown to most mundanes and magicals - Paracelsus on the other hand, would never be forgotten. Not a lot of people would ever know that those two names were the name of one and the same person.

In the end, Sal would wander with Philippus until the boy finished his training and way beyond that as well. In 1524 Sal finally left Philippus in Salzburg where the young boy, by then man, continued on until he would be known to history as 'Paracelsus'.

Sal meanwhile started to wander alone again. He went to France where his uncle, aunt, daughter and granddaughter had started to live and stayed with them for a while. When his daughter died, he moved on.

All in all, he wandered alone for about ten years - and then he returned to future Scotland, never knowing that he would be dragged into a new kind of terror the moment he reached the borders between the magical and the mundane world of Scotland.

The one thing that led him there, was a simple letter.

" My dearest opponent," it said.

" I came by some information that I thought you should know. Don't worry, I kept our treaty, neither I nor my companions set a foot on the Isles at all. We stumbled over this particular information near Rouen. I am also quite aware that you have no reason to trust me, but then I have no reason to write you as well. It doesn't actually concern me, after all.

Yet, there is one thing I truly abhor. I don't mind killing people, I actually enjoy it, if you remember - but I abhor the mistreatment of children.

There's something grave going on in that magical academy on the Isles. My informant spoke of 'the head doing things and using children for things that should never be done - let alone to children'.

I wouldn't have bothered if it had been an adult against another, but even I draw the line with children.

I urge you to take a look. I'm even willing to help you, just this once, monster child.

Sincerely

Ekrizdis of Azkaban ."

And as much as Sal would have wished to see the letter as a trap, he couldn't ignore it - so he headed towards Hogwarts.

It was autumn in 1534, when Sal would reach the outer skirts of Hogwarts' surrounding grounds. It would be there that he would be forced to do something, he had never done before.

"A healer on warpath," Sal thought amused. "That's not what you'll see every day."

And yet, here he was, ready for battle…

He bared his teeth in a semblance of a smile.

"But then," he thought. "Sometimes it needs to be a healer who goes to war. Sometimes, only a healer will be the one to do the right thing, not the easy."

And today was a day like that.

Sal squared his shoulders.

"Ready?" The man next to him asked.

Sal took a deep breath.

"Ready," he affirmed.

His hands touched the black iron of the gates of Hogwarts.

"Hello, atr," he greeted Hogwarts. "I've come to take your master down."

And the old, black iron gates slowly opened.

That's it for today.

1400s French used :

mieux amicx: my beloved

donzelh: miss

1400s German used :

Entschuldeget er: excuse me

hêrre: my lord/ mister/ sir

meister hêrre: could be translated to 'esteemed master'

crêatiure-nachgeborn(e): creature-born(s)

frowe: my lady, also used as flattery for Mrs./Ms.

Gevatter: in this case 'godfather'