I realize that I should be focusing on the other 4 stories that I have up and have been, unfortunately, neglecting. About that, I am sorry, and they will be up-dated (hopefully) within the near future. This is just one of the stories that I've taken to writing while I should be paying attention in class (Exams are coming. Goodie.), and I don't know how far it will continue, but seeing as I have written quite a bit so far (most of it out of sequence), I thought it might be worthwhile to try to connect the bits that have been written and then see where it goes from there. So, in other words, please don't expect that this will be continued.

Anyway, now that that's been said, I think it might be appropriate to put the standard Don't effing sue me here. Just, you know, as a precaution.

So, here's chapter 1, as this part is done.


Thomas walked down the hall of the Slytherin Manor, wondering where the ghost of Salazar had disappeared to this time. He walked past the doors to the library when he heard quiet crying that sounded like it belonged to a small child. Pausing momentarily, he waited for a moment before allowing himself to enter the room, though not before withdrawing his wand from where he kept it hidden in the sleeve of his robes.

To his complete surprise, it was just a small boy, curled up in the corner and crying. The boy didn't seem to notice Tom standing only a few feet in front of him, holding the door open, so Thomas took his chance to look over the child. He looked as though he was around three years old, and he was small, almost as though he had been starved, wearing only a large grey shirt. The boy had black hair and tanned skin underneath the bruises, but he could see nothing else of the child, as he'd curled himself incredibly tightly into the fetal position.

Deciding after another long moment that the child posed no threat to him, he slid the wand back into it's hiding place and knelt down next to the boy, who jumped slightly and stared up at him with fear blatant in his green eyes. "I won't hurt you," Tom said quietly.

"Who are you?" the boy asked.

Tom was silent for a long moment, not quite sure what to say to the young boy. When he finally spoke he pointedly ignored the boy's question. "How old are you?" he asked.

"I'm five," the boy said.

"And your name?" he prompted.

The boy paused before looking up at Tom with an almost sharp look in his eyes. "You didn't tell me your name," he said.

Tom smirked before relenting. "My name is Tom," he said. "Now, little one, your name."

"Uncle calls me boy," the child offered, clearly trying to be helpful. "But he calls me freak, too."

Tom frowned. "Why does your Uncle call you a freak?"

"Because I'm not like Cousin Dudley," he said. "Things happen around me that aren't normal," the boy added, looking at the floor. "Auntie told me that my mother was a witch before she died, and Auntie told me that she's a Squib, but I can't tell Uncle or Cousin Dudley that because they'll hurt Auntie too."

"And what about your father?"

"Auntie told me that he and my mother died together, after a bad man broke into their house," the boy said.

A brief moment of silence passed before the boy looked up at Tom again, though this time he seemed almost hesitant. "I don't like it with Uncle. He and Cousin Dudley hit me," he said. "Auntie helps me sometimes, but Uncle hits her too. Can I stay here with you?" he asked.

"You may only stay here if you have a proper name, child," came the stern voice of Salazar Slytherin from behind Thomas.

Tom glanced over his shoulder and smirked. "I was looking for you, Salazar," he said with a smirk. "You have a lovely Manor and I am grateful that you allowed me to stay here for the summer."

"I find it much more favorable for me to keep my Heir safely hidden in my Manor, rather than allowing an incompetent Muggle-lover to banish you back to that orphanage," the ghost said almost dismissively. "Though I do not recall allowing a ragamuffin entrance here. How did you get in here, boy?" he asked, eying the child.

The boy stared at the ground. "I don't know. A man with a big white beard came up to me while I was in the forest near the park and said something in Latin."

"How did you know it was Latin that this man spoke?" Salazar asked.

"Auntie was teaching me, when Uncle and Cousin were out. She told me that it would be smart to know it when I grow up and live with the other Wizards."

Tom looked over at the boy. "I'm going to pick you up and carry you to a bedroom so that I can see how badly you've been hurt," he said.

The boy nodded and Tom picked him up.

"Follow me," Salazar said before leading them up a flight of stairs.

"What did the man with the white beard say?" Tom asked curiously.

The boy almost hesitantly rested his head on Tom's shoulder, appearing to fall asleep, but then he spoke. "He said 'preoccupo preteritus ex revolvo ipsum.' And then I was here," he said.

"Where did you come from?"

"Number four Privet Drive."

Salazar stopped and looked at the boy for a long moment, almost frowning. "And what year was that?" he asked suspiciously.

"1984," the child replied. "Why? What year is it now?"

"It is the 9th of July, in the year 1944," the ghost replied.

"Then how did I get here?" the child asked, looking over at Salazar. "Did something the man say do something to me?" he asked.

Tom just looked over at Salazar, neither of them sure what to say at the moment.

The child looked between the two of them for a few seconds before deciding that perhaps it was best to just wait for answers to come at a later time.