"Have you forgotten?"
The words stung. In the many passing years since the fire, she had but one protector. Godric's face was stony, unreadable. Helga turned away from him, busying herself with the dried herbs.
"Helga…" He spoke again, his voice had not changed. She had been little more than a child then, tending to her mother's garden, the day the witch hunters had come.
"Helga?" Marian's voice cried out from the kitchen window. The small cottage stood alone in the clearing. A safe space away from the villagers. Helga looked up, her honeyed hair hung behind her in a single, long plait. Her mother's, much the same, was frazzled, sticking to her face and neck from the heat of the cauldron.
"Yes, mama?"
"Come inside, dearest." Helga paused a moment, not wanting to leave the warmth of the midday sun.
"Now." Though Marian said it softly, Helga felt the order. She took her basket and hurried inside, her bare feet slapping softly against the cobblestones.
Marian Hufflepuff took her daughters arm gently, pulling away the basket.
"Helga, you must listen to me. I need you to go into the cellar-" She lifted a finger to her daughter's lips, silencing her protests. "Hush sweet, listen to me. No matter what you hear, no matter who calls to you, you must not come out. Make no noise."
"But mama, why-", as Helga began the question her nose perked. The familiar smells of lavender and heather were tainted now by something unfamiliar. She could smell the warm, salty scent of horses, but there was a sharpness she had not known since childhood. A yell in the distance made her freeze. Of course, the smell was metal. Metal and the sweat of men.
Marian led her to the sleeping palette, lifting her wand the rushes on the floor cleared, and a faint, golden doorway shone against the dirt. She held Helga tightly as the door opened and she ushered her daughter into the musty cellar.
Helga gripped her mother's arm. "Mama! You must come too! You must!"
Marian shook her head, "No, sweet. All will be well. I am sure they only want to speak with me." She stooped and brushed a light kiss across Helga's freckled forehead. "Remember Helga, not a sound. Do not move from this place until I come for you."
Helga opened her mouth to protest, but the sound of horses and the yells of the men pierced the quiet of the woods. They were closer than ever. Marian pressed her wand into Helga's hand and with a wave of her arm the earth closed up above Helga Hufflepuff.
In the sweet-smelling ground, Helga could no longer hear the men, though she felt the vibrations of their feet on the floor over her. She pressed her hand into the earth, trying to reach out to her mother through the barrier. The wand in her hand seemed to pulse. Then there her shelter shook, something heavy had fallen. Helga remained silent, even as she felt the men above her, racing, searching.
It felt like hours before the cellar door opened. She rushed to the ladder. Only magic could open the entryway, but she froze as she saw a metal-encased foot descend.
The man leapt down into the cellar, ignoring the lower rungs of the ladder. Helga shrunk into the wall. He was tall and dark skinned, he had to stoop to fit in the low cellar, and he squinted as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
"Hello?" He called. It was then that Helga knew, in her fear she was no longer visible. She shrank further into the shadows, knowing the spell could not last.
"Helga?" He asked again, calling her by name. Only her mother knew her name, only her mother knew her. Helga stayed silent. In her moment of curiosity, her magic had lifted, her looked startled, seeing her appear against the earthen wall, as if from nowhere.
He knelt before her, oddly graceful in his bronze armor. She could see his face now, more clearly than before. He was very young, and looked very kind.
"I am not going to hurt you." He whispered, offering his hand. Seeing her eyes trace over his gauntlet, he removed it, again offering the now naked hand.
Helga hesitated a moment, then touched his fingers. His hand was larger, softer than hers. Not the hand of a villager. He led her gently up the ladder, and she felt a moment as if she were floating.
Helga looked around, seeing the open blackness of the sky above her, instead of the ceiling of her home.
"Where is my mother?"
The man looked at her sadly. She was suddenly aware of the smell of fire and something hideous. The crumbled walls of her home were blackened. As the man continued to watch her she felt the prickling of panic in the pit of her stomach.
"MAMA?" She cried out, straining her ears. The answer was silence, even the owls made no noise.
"Helga, shh. We cannot draw attention. Scouts may still be in the forest." The man placed a soft hand on her shoulder. Helga threw it off, running toward a strange, sickly light at the mouth of the clearing.
Fire, fire had never been so hateful. The stake in the center held something twisted and black, something horrible. The stench that hit Helga as she stepped closer stopped her.
Her mother had not had her wand.
She was almost insensible to the sound of the unsheathing of the sword behind her. The men had come from the trees, circling her. She heard a low curse and realized the bronze knight was at her back, holding a glittering blade before him.
"We have been waiting for you, little one." The man in the brown cloak sneered. She did not turn to look at him. "These woods have been blighted far too long with your black magic."
She turned at that, her braid flying in the firelight as she clutched her mother's wand.
"My mother…" She whispered. The men laughed.
"Sir Gryffindor!" One of the men called. The knight inclined his head and Helga stiffened. He was one of them.
"Sir Gryffindor, I see your talents were not exaggerated." The man continued. "The Baron told us only you could find the girl."
"I only wish you had called upon me sooner." The knight murmured, "I could have taken care of the mother as well."
Helga rounded on him, her panic rising as she was his drawn blade looming over her. She knew so few spells, she had practiced so little. She felt her throat tighten, but no scream emerged, only sorrow, blind sorrow consumed her. She was not afraid to die. Perhaps then she would see her her mother again, even her father. The dark-skinned knight winked at her as he turned, slicing through the nearest cloaked figure. The miller. The man did not have time to register his surprise, the jeweled blade in the knight's hand had killed him instantly, not spilling a drop of blood. The fine hairs at the base of Helga's skull stood on end. The sword was goblin forged.
"You're-?" She could not finish the question. The men about her had overcome the shock of seeing their companion slain by their supposed champion. They rushed forward, weapons at the ready.
The Knight twirled, "Run child." He whispered.
He was too late. The wand, loyal to Helga's mother had never known her before. Now, somehow, it knew of the death of its mistress. Helga felt an unfamiliar jolt in her fingers, a sudden warmth and pulse of power, of righteous anger.
CRACK
The men fell back, thrown by some invisible force into the darkness of the woods. Gryffindor made to move forward, his strange sword at his side, but Helga placed a small hand on him. He turned to look at her, his eyes dark with anger.
"I have failed my duties, child. They deserve their fate." He growled.
Helga looked back as the flamed died down about the stake. She trembled at the thought, but shook her head.
"No sire," She whispered, tucking her wand into the folds of her gown. She could feel the magic welling inside her, and she grasped the knight more tightly. Tears dribbled down her cheeks.
"No more death."
With that the girl and the champion disappeared, apparating into the night.
"I have not forgotten, Godric." Helga answered. He was older now, no longer the young, handsome knight who had saved her. He had grown a beard in the passing years, gained new scars. Still, his golden eyes shone out with youthful vigor. Had circumstances been different, Helga would have smiled to see them. She fidgeted with her tea.
Godric Gryffindor relaxed slightly, never letting his eyes leave hers.
"Then you will come?"
Helga turned and looked out the window. She owed him her life, it was true. She owed him many things. He had given her this home, safe from the muggles, and he had given her the books. The passing six years had been spent in near solitude, tending to her garden, trying to heal herself. There were potions that could make her forget her mother, that could make her forget the fire, the faces of the muggle men so intent on killing her, but she did not wish to forget. Remembering had made her strong.
"Godric…" She bit her tongue, "Why do you want me there? I am not a warrior."
She felt his hand on her shoulder, "You do not have to be a warrior, Helga, you merely have to be the witch I know you to be."
She tensed, and he felt her shy away from his hand, eyes downcast. She rose, as if to leave.
His voice rose, a new edge in his words. "Or is that it? Have you forgotten magic? Have you forgotten what your mother DIED to give to you?"
Helga turned, clutching the wand in her pocket, but not removing it.
"Magic is not meant to be given to those who lack the courage to use it." He growled. She had made him angry, she knew. He was glaring at her. "Your mother died to give you that wand, Helga. You dishonor her if you let it go unused."
Helga felt the unfamiliar sting of anger rising behind her eyes.
BANG
In a flash of blue light Godric flew into the wall of the cottage. She had not said anything, but the wand had jumped at her thoughts. The power coursing through her made her feet lift from the ground.
"WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO SPEAK OF MY MOTHER?" She bellowed in a voice darker and more horrible than her own. "WHAT DO YOU KNOW OF MY PAIN?"
Godric turned, smiling now. Seeing his look of triumph, Dayna raised her want again. His beard caught fire.
He pointed his own wand at his face, panicking as the blue flames licked his skin. Dayna dropped to the ground, and with a swish of her wand his beard was doused, full again as if it had not been touched. She was panting, though whether from fear or exhaustion even she could not tell. It had been so long since she had been angry, truly angry.
Her eyes filled with tears, "I am sorry Godric, I didn't mean to…"
He stopped her, putting a strong hand on her shoulder. "This," His voice shook with laughter, "Is exactly why we need you."
