It was snowing, and the short round witch stared out into white emptiness as though the falling flakes held a message just for her. The tall golden wizard strode up behind her, arms full of cloth.

"You'll catch your death in this cold."

She didn't answer, but he knew she'd heard him. She always heard him.

He paused, trying to word it the right way. "Put on a cloak, please."

The witch turned, her face pale and still, and slipped into a thick fur-lined cloak. "This storm is a bad omen. It's too early, and the sky spoke nothing of it."

Wrapped in red and gold, he stood beside her, staring out at the snow-covered lawn. In the distance, the giant squid breached the water briefly, then shuddered back beneath the surface of the lake as the cold wind stung its skin. The wind nipped at the witch and wizard, too, and Godric stifled the urge to surround them in warmth. Helga was more than capable of casting her own spell, and if she hadn't it was because she didn't want to. He'd learned not to underestimate her — as had the other Founders, and the students, and the poltergeist she'd nicknamed Peeves, at their peril.

Where Godric cowed people into submission, pure bulk and classic good looks intimidating them into hearing him, Helga just smiled, all dimples and a wide white smile hiding steel.

"It's a bad omen." She was repeating herself, and Godric hated himself for watching her shiver.

"Tell me about it inside, my dear. Where it's warm, by the fire."

She shrugged, loosening the hold of the cloak he'd brought her. The yellow tunic she wore was too thin to protect her from the chill, and he couldn't tear his eyes away as her skin rippled into gooseflesh, as she shuddered and hiked the cloak back up on her shoulder, as her dark skin flushed slightly from the exertion of casting a warming spell. The heat that enveloped him was too much — she had been colder than he'd realized — and he had to slip out of his heavy overcloak.

"I think it's an omen for Rowena, or for Salazar." She peered out into the darkness. The sun had slipped below the horizon at last, and the snow flickered white and glimmering against the darkening sky.

"Why for them?"

She grinned at him, and he couldn't help but grin back. "Who's more likely to earn a bad omen, Godric, of the four of us?"

"I see." Gathering all of his courage, he laid a hand on her shoulder. "Come to bed. It's warmer there."

She followed him in at last, casting a final gaze over her shoulder at the ever-darkening sky. "Something is coming that will threaten the school, and all of us."

He held the heavy door open for her, tangling his free hand in her wild dark hair, as he answered, "Thank the fates that we have you to see it coming, then." She grinned wickedly, pulled him inside, and the snow kept falling.