Sal didn't know how long he had been treating the wounded, he didn't know what time it was when he returned home. There was just one thing he knew.
It was too late.
He had done his best.
He had healed Sirius and then send him on his way with a dire warning for James and Lily.
It didn't matter.
Sirius wouldn't reach them in time - not when he wasn't allowed to apparate thanks to his still healing concussion and the potions working through his system. Sal could have reached them, but he hadn't been told the secret and Sirius wasn't the secret keeper.
It was heart-breaking.
And yet, Sal had known for centuries now that he would never be able to help them.
So he helped those who were still in his power to help until he couldn't see straight anymore - it didn't matter if it was emotional exhaustion that was pulling him down more than physical - and the last people were treated, and then he returned home.
He stumbled when arriving.
For a moment, he was tempted to go to bed and sleep, but the next, he brushed that thought aside.
He wouldn't be able to sleep.
Not, with what he knew happening… with what might have happened already that night.
So, in the end, he decided to undergo the ritual he always did on Samhain.
It was only past midnight, when the runes were freshly carved into his skin and settling, that he was finally too exhausted to stay awake any longer.
Sal wasn't even sure if he actually made it to bed, when he passed out.
Sadly, instead of dreamless sleep, something else awaited him.
"The child," the stranger, leaning on the tree in a forest long since gone, told him. "You promised to take a look."
Sal looked at the man who looked so familiar, yet so unrecognisable at the same time.
"I can't remember," he told the other man.
The answer was a warm sigh.
"You remember my words," the other man pointed out warmly. "And you know yourself. I doubt that you actually need to remember your answer to know how you'd answer."
Sal had to admit that the other man was right.
There was no way that he would have opposed the idea of helping someone.
Sal was a healer - had been a healer for longer than some countries existed - and no matter his vows, he would have helped anyway. He had always been that way, after all.
"You're right," he agreed and looked into the silvery eyes of the other man.
A cave.
Danger.
And a young man, more child than man, drowning in a lake full of Inferi.
Sal shuddered when that impression reached him.
"The child," the stranger said. "Help him. You promised."
The next moment, it felt as if someone pushed against Sal's chest, shoving him backwards.
Then the pressure on his chest vanished, and for a second it felt as if Sal was falling but then he woke violently, his breathing fast and his eyes sightless in the dark.
"Help him. You promised," a voice seemed to echo in the dark around him and Sal shivered.
His sightless eyes searched the dark for eyes full of silver, but he couldn't see anything.
A cave.
Inferi.
A boy drowning.
Sal's thought process stopped.
One moment he was still in bed, staring into the darkness of the night at about one o'clock in the morning, the next he was apparating towards a destination he had never seen before except in his dreams.
There was an odd, twisting feeling, as if something was trying to prevent Sal from appearing at his destination point.
Most likely, everybody who had learned apparating in the current age would have been stopped, but Sal had learned an earlier, less-perfected than the current version. While the current version was mostly based on wand-magic just like nearly every other magic in the present age, Sal still used the wilder version which was less based on a wand and more solely on intent.
Of course, there was also the fact that Sal was also well versed in wards - even better versed than anybody else alive - and being confronted by wards even mid-apparation was less a thing of strength and more a thing of finesse. Unravelling those parts of the wards that would have targeted his own kind of apparation wasn't too difficult considering the wards Sal normally used when he healed.
So, while most people in the current age would have been repelled or wouldn't have dared to apparate through the wards, Sal ended up exactly where he wanted to with just a few seconds delay.
The place behind was the cave Sal had dreamed off again and again.
The cave was dark. There was a lake hidden in it with a sole little island in the middle of the lake. A single boat was currently situated on the island, but the moment, Sal's feet touched the earth right after the entrance to the cave where he had ended up, the boat made its way back to the entrance.
Sal stared at it for a second, before deciding to ignore it.
Instead, he stepped up towards the lake, as close to the water as he could without touching it and then send a light-spell at the ceiling so that he could oversee the water and the island a bit better.
He looked around.
The island, the lake… everything was coated with deadly silence.
A child.
The cave.
Inferi.
Sal's eyes narrowed.
There was nothing there, but his gut told him otherwise.
A child.
Inferi.
The LAKE.
Sal's eyes roved over the water, searching.
The water was still, no sign of any struggle.
But the boy was there.
Had to be there.
Where?
Before he could answer that question, a stranger stepped out of the lake in front of Sal.
The shore of the lake was steep, only five steps in and a grown man would have been under water while standing.
Seeing the stranger stepping out of the lake was unnerving.
Pale skin.
Dark, wild hair that Sal was convinced should have been white.
Pale eyes, glinting silver in the spare light of the cave.
And his clothing so light that all in all it made him look as if the man was more ghost than man.
It took a moment for Sal to connect the dark haired stranger with the white haired one of his dreams.
The man looked younger with the darker hair - younger, and yet, more dangerous.
His silver eyes were fixed on Sal's green ones.
"Salvazsahar," he said and took the last step out of the water.
His clothes, a white tunic and light grey trousers, looked dry to the touch.
Sal stared at the man.
"You're here," he whispered and then looked around. "This isn't real?"
The stranger looked at Sal in amusement.
"Just because I'm here, it doesn't make this unreal," he countered amused, before crooking his head to the side. "On the other hand, it doesn't make it real, either."
Sal frowned.
"What do you want?" he asked, ignoring the stranger's cryptic statement. "I came here - just like you wanted."
"You did," the stranger agreed, his eyes piercing Sal's own. "But this isn't the right way - not yet, at least."
Sal opened his mouth to object and tell the man that there was only this way into the cave, when he was interrupted by the stranger without uttering even the first word.
"Tell me, Salvazsahar," the stranger asked him. "Have you ever wondered why the killing curse took the colour of your eyes when it first manifested?"
"What…?!"
Sal was taken aback.
The killing curse…
It was green, yes, but it hadn't taken the colour of Sal's eyes.
The colour of spells was nothing that could be explained - even after hundreds of years of studying, the colours didn't match any kind of pattern.
"Don't look at me like that," the stranger said amused. "There's always a reason."
Sal frowned.
"I'm a Healer," he countered. "I'm a Guardian. I have nothing to do with the killing curse."
"You have deadly eyes," the stranger countered calmly. "You have deathly eyes."
Then the stranger's expression turned into pity.
"And it's time, that you'll finally understand it," he said, his silver eyes - eyes in the colour of ghosts - catching Sal's green ones.
With that, the scenery suddenly changed around them.
What once had been a cave, suddenly turned into black nothingness.
"What -?"
Sal's eyes left the gaze of the other to look around.
There was nothing there - nothing but blackness.
Sal shuddered.
A trap?
Had he walked into a trap - a trap he had managed to avoid for months until one thoughtless action had gotten him into the grasp of the stranger in front of him?!
For a moment, panic swamped his mind - then, as suddenly as it had overcome him, the panic left him.
Something in him trusted the other man - trusted him more than enough to calm down and stop panicking.
"Ah," the stranger said, his eyes on Sal's face. "That's good. You might not remember me - but nevertheless, you still know me."
Sal frowned, his eyes returning to the stranger's face.
"I'm not following," he countered.
The stranger smiled, one of his hands reached out and touched Sal's face like a parent would a child.
"You will," he promised. "One day, you will."
Sal startled, the moment the stranger's hand touched his skin.
It felt like burning.
It felt like fire, white flames and tasted of ashes.
He swallowed harshly.
There was sadness in the stranger's eyes when Sal's gaze returned to his.
"I'm sorry," the other man said, his voice soft and not quite there - more like the wind than an actual human voice. "I'm sorry, Salvazsahar."
The next moment, the darkness around them was swallowed up by a scene Sal had never seen before.
There were bodies all around them.
Romans, Egyptians, Spartans, Greek, Celts, Germanic people, soldiers of different wars, Thirty Years' War, Hundred Years' War, Falklands War, Trojan War, First World War, Second World War… and many, many more…
Sal couldn't help but look around, his eyes travelling from one body to the next.
"What -?"
The word was spoken nearly silently, a deep seated disbelief he couldn't fathom wedged inside his mind.
"The beginning," the stranger replied. "And the end. It's a decision that has already happened and that still needs to happen."
Sal frowned.
"You're not explaining anything," he said, his eyes landing on the stranger in front of him.
The other man smiled, his smile warm and oddly familiar.
"Sometimes, explanations aren't possible to happen," the stranger countered. "Sometimes you have to live it, to understand."
Sal swallowed.
"I lived enough," he countered. "I've lived more than enough."
"Not yet," was the cool reply. "Until now, you lived for your own merit - now, this night, on the other hand, will be mine. Tonight, you will be mine - and mine alone."
Sal stiffened.
"I'm nobody's," he countered while adrenaline flooded his system. To his concern, no matter how wary he immediately reacted, there was still a part in him that trusted the stranger without rhyme or reason. "I'm nobody's but my own."
"Not tonight," the stranger countered. "Tonight you will do as I say, tonight, you will prove me that you're either worthy or unworthy for this life."
Sal's breathing quickened at those words.
"It's my life," he countered while his mind fought between fear and trust. "It's my decision what I do with it."
"Just within reason," the stranger countered. "And today not at all… at least, it won't be your decision what will happen with you tonight."
With those words, he raised his hand and the dead vanished.
For a second, darkness returned, before the scenery cleared again into another one - one that Sal had never seen before.
Sal looked around.
His breathing was harsh and fast.
He was standing in front of the gates of a citadel and it took a bit, but in the end, he recognized an old fashioned Rome.
"What?" he whispered to himself, his brow furrowing. "How-?"
"You're here for a decision," the stranger's voice answered his unfinished questions through the wind. "It's your decision - and yours alone to make today."
Sal frowned at that.
"My decision?" he asked. "What do you mean 'my decision'?"
"This is history," the other man replied. "You may have lived already at that time - but back then, you were nowhere near here. It's your decision now - just like you've decided in every battlefield you've ever been a part of."
"I… don't understand," Sal replied, his eyes searching for the stranger and not finding him. "What kind of decision should I make? And why should I make it? It's history, after all - long since over!"
"It doesn't matter," the stranger replied. "See it as an exercise, see it as training, as a trial, as whatever you want - it doesn't matter. This is your decision, my balance. You chose this. Once, twice - and maybe thrice. This is your decision - so you are the one who will decide."
"What?" Sal countered and looked around. "What is there to decide?"
He frowned, his gaze wandering through the empty streets of the city.
It nearly felt like a ghost-city like that.
"Do they live?" the stranger's voice in the wind asked. "Or do they die?"
Before Sal could ask 'who', he watched warriors swarming the streets. His instincts told him to follow them, so he did.
He ended up in the senate where some old men sat, wearing their best clothing and not moving at all.
When one of the warriors actually pulled at one of the elders beards in the belief the elders were statues, said elder slapped him.
The scene stopped.
Everything froze around Sal.
And then, the stranger was standing next to him, watching the scene as well with hooded eyes.
"Tell me, my balance," the stranger said, his hand gesturing to the elders. "Will they live? Or will they die?"
Sal turned and stared at the stranger.
"How should I know what will happen?" he asked confused. "I wasn't there - and I have no idea when we are so how-?"
"I'm not asking what will happen," the stranger corrected Sal and there was something akin to pity in his eyes. "I'm asking what you will decide. I am asking if you will safe them or let them go."
Sal turned and looked at the old men.
"It's not my decision to make," he countered and shook his head. "It already happened. There is nothing I can do now. Time can't be changed."
The stranger nodded.
"It already happened," he agreed. "Nevertheless, I ask you: will they live or will they die?"
"It's not my decision," Sal repeated pointedly, not willing to play the games the other one wanted him to.
The stranger nodded.
"Die it is, then," he said and waved his hand.
The scene came to life again.
The warrior drew his blade and slew the elder. The others followed suit.
Sal shivered.
"This… this…" he had seen a lot of gruesome things happening in the past, but this was the first time he stood by and watched something like this happening.
His integrated reaction didn't actually let him stand by.
The moment the warrior had drawn his sword, Sal had surged forward to intercept it - but the sword had gone through him as if he wasn't there… or as if he was a ghost himself.
The only thing he could do in the end, was stand by and watch them slaughtered.
"This… it's history… I couldn't have done anything about it anyway," Sal tried to tell himself, but something inside him rebelled nevertheless at that thought. He was there. It might not actually be real, but it felt like that and he hated the idea that he just stood by and watched. He hated it.
"Please," he whispered, turning to the stranger. "Make it stop!"
"It was your decision," the stranger countered merciless. "So you will have to stand by and live with the consequences - and you will have to watch what your decision resulted in."
Sal shuddered.
Finally, the last of the old men died by the sword…
But there was no break.
Instead, the scene dissolved and cleared again with the warriors now in front of the citadel.
Sal could hear the children crying inside and the people pleading.
The warriors in front of the citadel looked ready to go in and slaughter them all.
Sal shivered again.
"Will they live? Or will they die?" the stranger asked him, his voice only heard in the wind again.
This time, Sal didn't hesitate; this time, he didn't dare to say that it wasn't his decision.
"Live," he whispered. "They will live."
"Good," the wind said and Sal watched the weeks' long trial of the warriors to get in and the final decision when both - warriors and the people of Rome started to starve - of gold in exchange for freedom of the people of Rome.
Only then, the scene slowly started to dissolve again - but not without showing the future that was brought by the fact that those people survived.
"Your decision," the wind reminded him when he saw the destruction the Romans started to wreak upon the warriors' people. "And every decision has its consequences…"
The scene dissolved, just to return and show another time - a time that looked like it was centuries later…
There were people in old fashioned clothing walking in a formation through the swamp.
Their clothes… it took a moment or two for Sal to understand that they were wearing the typical uniforms of a Roman legion.
He shivered.
There was a storm brewing and the woods around them were dark and deep, nevertheless, the people in the baggage clearly weren't expecting anything to happen - and when it finally happened, it was too fast for them to react.
The attack was unexpected.
People, clothed in less sturdy clothes like the Romans attacked from the woods.
An ambush.
Sal's finger twitched, he shuddered.
He wanted to do something… he wanted to help, to heal, to… just do something!
"Choose," the wind whispered in his ear. "Who will live? Who will die?"
Sal shuddered again.
"I can't," he whispered back, nearly begging with his voice alone. "I can't! Please! I CAN'T"
A horse, blinded by panic, jumped one of the earth walls the attackers had to have built before the trap sprang.
The horse stumbled, there was a crunching sound and then the horse was on the ground, its neck broken - and yet, it was still alive.
Sal shuddered again.
"Who will live? Who will die?" the wind whispered and Sal turned his gaze away from the horse, his hands curling into fists.
"Ah," the wind said. "It is like you wish."
The panicky noise of the horse cut off.
Dead .
The horse was dead.
Sal pressed his lips together, in his head, his atr's voice echoed.
"You can't save everyone," it was the same thing that Sal's mother Morgana had always told him, it was the same thing that Sal had known to be true for centuries already.
You can't save everyone.
And sometimes, you had to let somebody die.
"Good," the voice in the wind said. "I knew you would understand. Now - who will live, Salvazsahar, and who will die?"
And so, Sal took a deep breath and closed his eyes again.
A Roman had fallen to his feet.
The man had been stabbed in the chest.
Sal couldn't heal him. Sal was invisible, unable to touch, unable to do anything but watch - watch and decide.
Who will live? Who will die?
The Roman died.
Another decision, another choice.
And with every choice, every look away, every decision, it felt as if something inside Sal was dying.
He couldn't do this.
He wasn't made for this.
He couldn't sit by and watched, but was forced to and no matter how much he tried for distance, it hurt - it hurt so bad…
And yet, Sal pushed on, tried to ignore the voice in his head which told him that this wasn't right, that he shouldn't do this… shouldn't stand there and do nothing.
Yet, the people died around him, one after another - and in the end, with the last decision, the scenery around Sal faded again.
When the scene returned, Sal felt sick to the stomach.
Dead .
He had looked away and let people die.
He had looked away.
He was a Healer.
He was a Guardian.
He was anything but made for looking away.
Sal wanted to throw up.
He wanted to cry, scream and rage - and yet, he couldn't.
Instead, he looked up again just to see another fight.
Human against human.
There was no difference between them but the colour of their clothes.
"You decide," the stranger's voice in the wind reminded him. "Who will live and who will die?"
Sal shuddered.
"This shouldn't be my decision," he countered, automatically returning to what he had said once before - the truth as he understood it - and his eyes on the battlefield in front of him. "I'm a Healer. I shouldn't decide who dies. I should try to keep them alive…"
He shook his head, his eyes clenching shut when he watched warriors go down after being stabbed.
His hands twitched.
He had an itch to heal - an itch to help.
His hands clenched when he tried to suppress the urge to reach out, the urge to help, to step in and heal.
He wouldn't be able to do anything - he was nothing but a ghost after all.
"All I've ever learned in my life was how to keep people alive," Sal said pleadingly, his eyes on the scene in front of him, but his thoughts by the stranger whose voice was carried by the wind. "This… deciding against life… it's nothing I can do. It's nothing I ever wanted to do."
"You're a Healer," the wind countered coldly. "Everything you've ever done was decide who could be saved and who couldn't. So decide!"
Sal shook his head.
"I always tried to save as many as possible - and I never gave up on anybody if I didn't have to!" he countered. "I never went and sat by while watching somebody die!"
The wind laughed.
"Sometimes, that's all you can do," he countered. "You're a Healer. You know it."
Sal's fists clenched even further until his palms bled.
"But that doesn't mean that I didn't try," he said with clenched teeth. "I always tried - even if I didn't manage it, in the end."
"Then try," the wind countered, caressing Sal's body. " Try! "
The next second, the wind pushed Sal from behind, forcing him to take a step forward towards the scene in front of him.
Sal frowned, his head automatically turning to look behind him even if he knew that he wouldn't see anything.
"I'm a ghost," he countered. "I already tried."
"No," the wind countered. "You went and tried to change your decision. You didn't try to decide in another way."
Sal stared at the scenery in front of him for the lack of another person to look at.
For a moment, he still hesitated.
Then he took a deep breath and stepped forward, in the middle of the battlefield. The scene parted for him, people stepping aside, leaving him to walk through their formation wherever he pleased.
For a moment, Sal looked around, surprised and a bit uncomfortable.
"Your way then," the wind told him. "Do it!"
Stepping into the fight, trying to preserve life - it felt like coming home.
Hands reached for wounds and while he couldn't bind them, or really heal them, he still could try and preserve the life as much as he was able.
His eyes, wandering over the wounded, automatically assessed the dying.
Some were beyond help.
Some were on the knife's edge.
And some lightly wounded enough that Sal knew the would live without his help.
He ignored the last.
He treated the second.
He looked away from the third except when he helped them to cross a bit easier.
There were sacrifices in war, and no matter how much it hurt, Sal knew that - had known that for most of his life.
When it was over, when there was finally nobody to treat anymore, only the dead and those who survived - the scene changed again, forcing Sal into the next battle.
It was horror.
One battle, after the other.
One war, after the next.
There was no break, no end in sight and it didn't matter that Sal tried his best, the more he did, the more he saw those dying around him instead of those surviving.
It shook him.
It hurt him.
And no matter how much he tried to step away from all of it mentally, he finally couldn't find the distance needed anymore to do so.
He was a Healer.
He was a Guardian .
But no matter what - even he had a breaking point.
And in the end, the death around him, were it.
Fury at the stranger who forced him though that horror story inflamed in his chest - before it spilled over into the blackness of the dissolving scene.
"Stop it! Stop it! STOP IT! " Sal screamed into the darkness. "Whatever you want from me, I can't be it! I'm a Healer, not… whatever you want me to be!"
The stranger appeared in front of him, his silver eyes were fixed on Sal's green ones.
"I know who you are," the stranger countered, his voice calm in contrast to Sal desperation and fury. "I know what you are."
"And yet, you demand this of me!" Sal countered and gestured all around him.
The stranger looked at him, his eyes alight with a strange, silver light.
"Are you trying to tell me you aren't made for it?" he asked.
Sal's fury turned up another notch at that question.
"I'm a Healer!" The fury was making his voice hard and unrelenting. "I swore not to kill people!"
"Death is a part of life," the stranger countered. "Letting someone die isn't the same as killing somebody."
"Letting someone die isn't better!" Sal countered heatedly. "I'm a Healer - I'm not made to sit by and watch!"
"And what will you do if I continue to force you?" the stranger countered unimpressed. "After all, I doubt you have the power to free yourself from my grasp. You're too weak!"
The scenery swam around them, trying to turn from the utter darkness into a new horror scene.
Sal's gaze found the emotionless ones of the other man.
Fury in a way he couldn't remember ever feeling lurched through his body.
For a moment his whole body felt as if it had been lit alight by fire - his bones, his flesh, his veins burning with liquid fire. Then the darkness around him was lit alight by white flames.
The white flames lit up the darkness and stifled the appearance of the new scene of horror.
"No!" Sa whispered. "No! I'm not your puppet!"
He didn't know what he expected, but he definitely didn't expect the reaction he got.
"You're fighting," the stranger said, sounding satisfied. "Good, my balance, that's good."
Sal wordlessly snarled at the other man and his white fire reacted. It pushed against the darkness, tried to overwhelm its opponent, but before it could, the darkness fought back. Light and dark clashed in an explosive way, fighting back and forth, one not able to overwhelm the other.
"Tell me, my balance, how long will you be able to resist me?" the stranger asked, his silver eyes on Sal. "You and I both know you've only the maturity of a child. I'm grown, I'm strong - so how will you continue to fight back when I stop giving you the chance?"
With those words, the strength of the darkness doubled. Sal braced himself. His white flames - flames he was only controlling for the second time of his life and still not sure how he had even produced them - leaped up and attacked.
The clash was horrible.
Light fought against the dark.
Dark fought against the light.
There was power all around Sal, in ways he had never felt before.
It made him shiver.
His arms and legs suddenly covered in goosebumps.
And yet, something inside him told him that he couldn't give up now.
He couldn't give in now.
Darkness spread around him, surrounded him, closed in on him and yet, his flames were still countering the attack.
"Fight," the stranger said, his eyes locking with Sal's. "Fight, my balance. Fight me with everything you have!"
Sal could feel the flames around him. Burning like raging white fire, unforgiving, all-encompassing.
Powerful.
Dangerous.
Born of phoenix-fire and dragon-flame.
And yet, the darkness was winning.
"Fight," the stranger laughed. "You won't beat me. In the end, my balance, you will succumb!"
With that, the darkness crashed down on Sal, stifling his fire, drowning him in darkness.
From one moment to the next, darkness was everywhere.
It felt like drowning in darkness.
He could feel it entering him with every breath, with every blink of his sightless eyes, with every swallow.
He was dying.
He could feel his body giving in, he could feel the power of the stranger taking a hold of him.
Like the Imperius-Curse.
A loss of free will.
A loss of freedom.
The darkness entered him, deeper and deeper.
It surrounded his chest, filled it, reached for his hands and feet, for his brain, for his heart…
"You. Are. Mine!"
The stranger's voice seemed to resonate with the darkness and for a second, Sal felt himself bowing to him, felt himself loosing to him.
Then, something started to burn.
It seemed to start from his heart.
No, not his heart.
Deeper.
And yet, more on the surface as well.
Runes started to glow on Sal's chest.
Healer, they spelled.
Guardian, they pronounced.
Master, they called.
And Sal's eyes lit up in answer with a burning, deathly green fire.
" No!", the phoenix whispered in his blood.
" NO!", the dragon roared in his mind.
" No," Sal said aloud, his eyes piercing the darkness to find the silver ones of the stranger.
Ghost eyes met the eyes of the basilisk.
From within Sal, the flames started to burn anew. Runes that he had been carving into his body for thousands of years lit alight with white fire.
It felt like shattering.
One moment, Sal was burning with flames while drowning in darkness, the next, like a mirror, it felt like something in him broke down.
The darkness swirled around him, curled inside him and in front of him, the stranger's eyes turned unreadable.
In the next moment, the darkness shattered all around them in the same way, something had shattered inside Sal.
" I'm here to make a deal," the stranger's voice said - sounding like an echo, not real, but a memory that couldn't even compare to the wind when it whispered to Sal - while the space around Sal and the stranger in front of him was filled by a forest and the night sky.
" I don't deal with strangers," someone else's voice answered. There was nobody else, just voices in a forest with a night sky above.
The stranger looked at Sal, his eyes unreadable, his face serious and tired.
" A deal, for your life and the continuation of your line," the stranger's voice, built out of nothing but a memory, added and there was something in it that told Sal that he knew the other man would accept.
" What kind of deal?" the other one asked.
" I will ensure your line's life and success for the next two thousand years - if you will give me a mortal body for a time."
" A body?"
" A child's body - your child, with my soul. A hundred years of a child for you without me ever knowing who I really am. The rest of it, in my command for everything I need. One child, born from this body for your line - two children, born by me for my own. This is my deal - will you accept?"
The room around them shattered like the darkness had before.
Light flooded everything.
And suddenly, Sal found himself standing on a battlefield - a battlefield that definitely wasn't happening in the presence.
Sal knew that battlefield. It was in a clearing in the middle of the woods of the Forest of Dean.
He couldn't remember it, but he remembered the fear in Sirius eyes when he spoke of that day, the fear in a lot of people's eyes, when they remembered.
It had been the day, the Order had nearly been obliterated by Voldemort and his people - a day they had survived without ever understanding why.
On the floor, next to Sal, Sirius, James and Lily were lying.
Sal didn't even think about it.
He knelt down, his hands immediately starting to heal.
He hadn't planned on being attacked.
He hadn't planned on confronting Tom Riddle.
And he definitely hadn't planned for a Dark Lord entering his mind.
It felt odd, like an echo still cursing through him.
He could feel the darkness inside him reaching out for the Dark Lord in front of him.
He could feel the flames running through his runes, waiting to be used, waiting for finally being able to fight again - as if the fight just seconds ago hadn't been enough for them.
There was magic all around them.
Sal could feel Tom Riddle trying to fight the hold Sal and the darkness inside him had over his mind.
And suddenly, Sal understood what he had to do - what he finally could do, even if he had never planned to do it that way and had never found a way to do it until now in any other way.
He struck.
His mind used the connection to break into the other man's.
There was no mercy from his side.
He ignored the other man's memories.
There was no time.
The man in front of him might have been thrown, but Sal was under no illusion that it would last long.
So Sal did what he wanted to do, hid what he needed to hide and left the second he was done.
Their entire exchange only lasted a minute or two, but no matter what, when the Dark Lord finally tumbled away, shoved out of Sal's mind, there was fear in his eyes - and utter darkness in Sal's.
"Leave, Dark Lord of this time," Sal said and he could taste the darkness in his throat and the fire on his tongue when he spoke. "I have no time to kill you right now. Leave - and I will let you stay alive for now."
There was understanding in Riddle's eyes when he heard Sal's warning.
He retreated, still stumbling, still afraid - and yet, trying to appear like the strong Dark Lord he had always portrayed.
"One day, I will kill you, Healer!" with that, Riddle apparated away, defeated for the moment.
Sal knew the other man was right.
He didn't need to hear the other man's threat.
He didn't need to know the other man's fear which tasted like poison on Sal's tongue, send to him through a mental connection he had just re-established with a runic spell inside Voldemort's mind.
"One day, you will try," Sal said to the vanishing Dark Lord, bitterness and defeat in his heart as well. "One day, Tom Riddle, you will indeed try - and that day isn't that far away anymore."
Even less far for Sal who had come back from that day.
He shuddered at that thought and turned towards the wounded.
Sal didn't know how long it took him to heal everybody he could - quite happy that for whatever reason he could actually use his supplies unlike when he had treated the people while trapped in the scenes of the past.
It was confusing.
It was incomprehensible.
And yet, it was like that.
When he had finally assured himself that they all survived, Sal stepped back.
He was tired.
He wished he could go home.
But he couldn't.
This was the past.
He was back in the past.
Sal didn't understand it.
How?
HOW?!
"I see, you broke the circle," a voice Sal had gotten to know quite well over the last horror-filled days… weeks… centuries… whatever.
Sal looked up.
Flames rose around him as if called by his need to defend himself.
The stranger just looked at the white flames, not bothered at all that they had sprung from earth just a finger's breadth in front of him.
"You're here," Sal whispered and he suddenly felt cold, cold and exhausted. "Why are you here?"
"The child," the stranger, leaning on a tree of the forest surrounding them. "You promised to take a look."
Sal stared at him.
"I tried," he said coolly.
"It wasn't the right time," the stranger countered calmly. "You wouldn't have been able to help him by then."
Sal's stare hardened.
"The child," the stranger said, before Sal had time to object. "Help him. You promised."
A cave.
Danger.
And a young man, more child than man, drowning in a lake full of Inferi.
Sal shuddered when that impression reached him.
He had promised - and he had tried.
For a moment, he wanted to tell the stranger this, then his eyes caught the light emitted from his healer's oath.
He was a healer.
He was a guardian…
A cave.
Inferi.
A boy drowning.
Sal's thought process eyes roamed the battlefield all around him.
Healer.
Guardian.
The oath on his chest.
The phoenix in his veins.
The basilisk in his blood.
And the dragon in his mind.
He had promised.
Sal apparated.
There was that odd, twisting feeling, as if something was trying to prevent Sal from appearing at his destination point again, but Sal by-passed it like the first time.
He ended up in the same set-up like he had been last time.
The cave was dark. There was a lake hidden in it with a sole little island in the middle of the lake. A single boat was currently situated on the island, but the moment, Sal's feet touched the earth right after the entrance to the cave where he had ended up, the boat made its way back to the entrance.
Sal ignored it in favour of stepping up towards the lake again, as close to the water as he could without touching it and then send a light-spell at the ceiling so that he could oversee the water and the island a bit better.
He looked around.
The island, the lake… everything was still coated with deadly silence.
A child.
The cave.
Inferi.
Sal's eyes narrowed.
There was still nothing there, but his gut told him otherwise. Something - supported by the healing oaths he had sworn - told him that somebody was there and that it wasn't yet too late for the person in question.
A child.
Inferi.
The LAKE.
Sal's eyes roved over the water, searching.
The water was still, no sign of any struggle.
But the boy was there.
Had to be there.
Where?
In that moment, Sal finally saw him.
Robbing towards the water, coughing and thanks to the distance silently sobbing, the boy was making his way towards his damnation.
Sal growled.
He took a deep breath, twisted on the spot and apparated again.
The wards tried to stop him, catch him and throw him out, so his mind, exploiting the runes he had known for more centuries than he wanted to remember, broke through the barrier of the wards not once, but twice.
It took him less time than to utilize the boat, yet, too much time to save the child from the water and the Inferi in it.
When Sal reached the island, the boy was already pulled under water. There was still some struggle, but the boy couldn't be seen anymore.
Sal cursed.
He hurried towards the water, stepped into its shallow end and reached out towards the boy.
A hand grabbed him.
Cold, wet and lifeless.
Inferi .
Sal didn't think.
Fire erupted from his body, and the hand caught fire, no matter that it was still entrenched in water.
Sal reached into the lake.
"Accio!" A word he hadn't used for centuries fell from his lips, supporting his already exhausted magic when his empty hand reached out with magic and intent to grab the boy and save him.
Power cut through the water and caught the drowning boy.
A minute, two.
There were more Inferi at Sal's legs, yet, they all burned.
The cave was land, Sal had never stepped on before.
The cave, no matter its placement, wasn't a part of the Isles that Sal had ever explored - his links to the land nearly non-existing in the surrounding area for at least another mile or two.
The only way to empower his spell therefore was Sal's own nearly depleted reserves.
Sal was sure he would pay for it later, but at the moment, the boy had priority.
His magic reached further, brushed over something living - barely living - and he pulled.
It was Sal's intent more than the word he had uttered that pulled the boy from death's grasp and towards Sal.
It took another minute and the life Sal could feel nearly fading before he had the shoulder of a still living being under his hand.
Sal tightened his grip and pulled the boy out of the water.
His stumbled backwards, the Inferi trying to drag the boy back with them from the other side and Sal struggling to keep his hold while knowing for sure that if he lost the boy now, he would never be able to get him back.
But the Inferi - beings cursed through magic - were stronger than Sal and his hold lessened.
Sal gritted his teeth.
There was nothing he could do but one thing.
Like he did with healing, he flooded the boy's body with his own magic, and then lit his magic up into flames.
He could smell the burning flesh of the boy when the fire hurt him as well and for a moment, Sal's oaths surged up.
They reached for Sal's magic, his intent, ready to destroy him for the fact that he was about to break them to hurt an innocent.
" Then I bless you child. You are a Healer, you are a Warrior, you are a Guardian. May you heal others, may you judge their hearts. May you guide others, may you protect them from harm. Today, I name you a Guardian Healer - born to protect, born to judge, born to heal."
But no matter the hurt he caused, the fire left the Inferi screeching and giving up their hold on the boy.
Sal stumbled backwards, onto the island and dragged the boy with him.
His oaths settled.
Healer.
Warrior.
Guardian.
Even if he had to hurt others to protect them.
The moment, Sal had managed to drag the boy far enough up the island so that the Inferi couldn't follow anymore, he drew familiar runes into the earth.
Familiar protection wards rose around them - wards that Sal had used for a thousand years to heal and to protect.
His hands shook, he felt bodily exhausted from the fight with magic and intent even if he was sure it hadn't been more than ten minutes between the first Inferi grabbing him and him finally managing to drag them to safety.
He shook the thought away and turned towards the boy.
The child wasn't breathing.
Sal cursed.
Most likely, the child had breathed in water already - not even adding the fact that the boy clearly hadn't been well before he basically handed himself over to the Inferi in the lake.
Sal cursed again and then turned the boy so that he could manually reanimate him.
Oh, there were spells for that, Sal knew, but he also knew that with the wards of the cave breathing down on him maliciously, it would be best to spare magic wherever he could. He didn't trust the environment around him and as good as his wards were, chances were that there was still something out there that could breach them.
Nevertheless, when the boy didn't react after nearly five minutes, Sal growled and then took out his wand to give magical aid, even if he had wanted to avoid it.
For a second, it looked that even the spell wasn't enough to rescue the boy's life, but then the boy suddenly made a gurgling sound.
Sal immediately turned the boy to the side, relived when the young man threw up the dirty water onto the ground. He was less relived when he noticed the blood that was thrown up with the water.
"You want to make it difficult, don't you?" he asked the boy rhetorically with a tired sigh.
The barely conscious and soon back to unconscious boy didn't answer, of course.
Not that Sal expected an answer.
In that moment, the first Inferi threw themselves against the shields that surrounded Sal and the boy.
They burned, but Sal also knew that there was no way that they would survive the attack of the Inferi if they stayed here. His wards were good, but even they wouldn't hold against an army of Inferi indefinitely - especially not without the advantage of a connection to the land.
Sal pressed his fingers against the base of his nose.
"You really want to make my life difficult," he told the unconscious and barely breathing boy. Sal guessed that the only reason the boy breathed on his own was the magic that Sal had used to reanimate him, currently.
He needed to stabilize him.
He needed to get him to safety.
More Inferi threw themselves against his shield.
Sal sighed.
For a moment, he closed his eyes, then he opened them again and reached out to take a look at the boy's eyes, before smelling his breath.
He pressed his lips together.
Poison .
Of course, it had to be poison.
And of course, it had to be one that was one of the hardest to deal with in the whole world!
Sometimes, Sal really hated his life.
He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes again and then took a deep breath.
"Alright," he said to himself. "Alright."
He couldn't treat it right now.
By wind and fire! Treating that potion would take years!
He doubted that the boy would wake up anytime soon.
So, the only thing Sal could do at the moment was to stabilize him and get him away from here.
Sal slit his wrist and then started to draw runes on the boy's wrists and neck and ankles, binding the boy's life to his own.
It was the best he could do, for now - at least until they were out of danger.
In that moment, the shield around him wavered, the Inferi throwing themselves even further against the wards.
Sal wanted to curse, but he also knew that he could spare his breath.
He needed to get out of there before the Inferi reached them.
He closed his eyes.
His reserves were low. He knew that he couldn't spare a lot of magic anymore - not if he wanted to keep the boy alive… but, they need to get out of here.
Sal gritted his teeth.
"Alright," he said tiredly. "Let's do this."
He reached towards the boy, checked him over again and then pulled out a bezoar.
He ensured that the boy swallowed it down.
It wouldn't save him.
Sal knew that the poison wouldn't be stopped by the bezoar, but he also knew that he could at least slow the poisoning down.
It was the best he could do for now.
In that moment, the ward surrounding them, broke.
Sal cursed.
The Inferi reached for them and Sal could feel his magic reacting.
White flames burned their hands.
Sal didn't even think about what to do next.
He grabbed the boy and apparated.
There was no thought as to where he apparated to.
There was no thought about danger, fear or the future.
The only thing he thought about was safety.
He felt the world vanish around him, felt the wards try to work against him, but he slipped through like he had done before.
There was a different kind of wards at the end of his apparation, but those wards, instead of trying to keep him out, reached for him like an old friend.
The last thing Sal saw before he lost consciousness was the dark stone floor in a barely lit chamber and the monkey-like face of a statue he was sure he had seen before - thousand and thousand of years ago… or maybe another few years in the future.
Sal reached out towards the boy, his own body stabilizing the poisoned one of the boy.
The boy was still breathing.
Sal's strength left him.
Then, red flames lit up just below the stone-ceiling of the cave.
It looked like a bird.
Sal lost consciousness.
" Avada Kedavra!"
And Lily Potter's eyes closed for the last time in her life.