Hi. This is just for fun; although I am a quick writer when I get into a story. I would love for you to leave your thoughts and reviews after you have read it- it will help me improve for what I am planning

Thanks

Immzie

Their friendship started on a stormy night, when a knock at the door turned out to be a young girl. Her blonde hair dripped with rain water, and she shivered as she stood in the mud.

"Oh, my dear!" The woman cried. "Come inside, come inside." With the dim light of a flickering candle, she led the girl from room to room, until at last, there was a bright fire throwing out heat. "Come, sit, dry off, my child."

And when the girl was curled up, a tray of bread and butter in front of her, the daughter crept in. Her brown hair was flowing around her shoulders, and in her hands was an old book, clearly loved and well read.

"Who are you?" The girl demanded, flouncing down to the chair in the corner of the room, bouncing on it before placing the book on the table next to her.

"Rowena!" The woman said, shocked.

Rowena smiled. "Sorry. My name is Rowena Ravenclaw. May I enquire about yours?"

"Helga." The girl muttered. "Hufflepuff. I live across the hills, but the storm caught me."

Rowena's eyes lit up; she knew what it meant, for the girl to live so close. "Well. Why didn't you use magic then?"

"Rowena!" Her name was a warning this time, her mother angry at her bluntness.

"Because I didn't know-"

"How? I can teach you."

"I know magic." Helga said. "I just didn't know of anyone around was magical or not."

"Most are."

"Most." Helga smiled gently. "Not all."

Rowena opened her mouth, but her mother shook her head. "What do we say, my dear?"

"Knowing does not mean I can tell." Rowena said, her tone telling Helga that it was not the first time this phrase had been uttered.

"Exactly." The mother looked towards Helga and smiled. "You may stay the night, child. Tomorrow, Rowena will walk you home."

"I can find my way."

"I'm sure you can, but I would feel better if she walked you back." She stood, nodding towards Helga and smiling at her daughter. "Show her to the spare room, Rowena." Her mother walked out, and Helga watched as Rowena muttered the numbers up to ten and then stood.

"Show me what you can do." It was an order.

Helga smiled and raised her hands, pulling a short length of wood from the belt around her waist. It was dark brown, almost black, and one end was worn smooth from use. She muttered a word, and the scent of spring rose up, as roses sprang from the end of her wand, snaking their way around the room and growing on the walls. Another word, and they burst into strange butterflies, that beat their wings once, then twice, and faded into nothingness.

There was a second of silence, then: "How did you do that?" Rowena said, walking up to her and taking her wand, studying it closely. "Each flower was exactly the same, so it was obvious they were not real, but the butterflies?"

Helga grinned, strangely glad to have confused the blunt girl. "Magic." She replied.

Miles away from the two witches meeting for the first time, two other families were meeting up for the first time in weeks. The families had known each other for generations, and though they lived on other sides of the country, it never mattered the time that passed between seeing each other again.

The parents came together with hugs from the fathers and kisses on the cheeks from the mothers, each racing to tell the others about exciting news. Our son found a spell for this, well, our found a potion for that. It was a competition; but one that started and always ended in laughter.

While the adults were catching up, the two boys looked at each other, the black haired one blinking slowly at the other boy.

"Godric." The red headed boy drawled in greeting, thrusting out his hand.

"Salazar." The first replied, taking his hand. A second passed before they both broke out into easy grins, Godric pulling Salazar towards him and slapping him on the back. "Its been a while, Sal. How are you?"

The boy shrugged. "It's going to be a cold winter."

Godric resisted the temptation to role his eyes; his life long friend had always made everything out to be bigger than it was. A simple question could be turned into a riddle. "Like that ever affected you." He replied. "I still remember the time when we were children, you know." Salazar had burnt down their house, with a fire that they could not put out. Day's went by before enough wizards had come together, only just stronger as a group than the little boy was alone.

"It was an accident!" Salazar grinned. "Besides, it worked, didn't it? The warmth from that was the same as the summers sun."

"Yes. Burnt just as badly too."

"Don't complain, Gryffindor. You loved having my family live with you for the year."

"It was certainly lively, Sal."

They both chuckled, looking towards their parents, before Godric's eyes turned sad and the laughter faded.

"How long?" Salazar asked quietly.

"Not long."

"That's why we are here, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Strange, how they crow about our success yet cannot even look us in eyes when its time to say goodbye." Salazar put his hand on his friends shoulder. "How are you, Godric? Really?"

"My mother is dying, and there is nothing we can do. No magic in the world that can save her. How do you think I feel?" The boys eyes flashed as he stared at his friend, a mix of courage and stubbornness shining in them, masking the pain that Salazar knew he felt.

"Well." Salazar said softly. "However you feel, I don't care what our parents say. I'm staying here until I know you are okay. Whatever happens."

Godric smiled, though it was a smile filled with shadows and sadness. "You're a good friend, Sal."

The red head shrugged, smiling back. "I know. Although I have seen you duel, and being your friend is better for me that being your enemy."