Rowena screamed and dropped to the cobbled street, barely ducking under a stinging jinx. She was on her feet just as fluidly, whirling around and glaring over the picket fence just to her side. She pulled her wand, prepared to hex whoever had the nerve to attack her – until she saw a young sandy-haired boy, no more than twelve, holding a wand and staring at the raven-haired woman with wide, terrified eyes.
"Please don't hurt me, miss, I didn't mean to hit you with it, I swear!" he pleaded. "I was aiming at the squirrel on the hedge there, but he ran and I missed and you walked past!"
"I'm not going to hurt you," Rowena assured him, slipping her wand back into her robes. "Is that your wand?"
"Nah, it's my dad's," the boy said, waving the wand half-heartedly. A shower of sparks burst from the tip to settle on the grass. "I don't get one 'til I'm thirteen, dad says. But I already know some magic from practicing with his and listening to my family cast spells."
"Where did you learn a stinging jinx then?" Rowena asked, smiling a little.
"Was that what that was?" the boy questioned, his brown eyes now wide with curiosity. "I was hoping just to blast the thing away from mum's flowers."
"So you tried a jinx that you've only ever heard, not knowing what it was going to do?" Rowena chided gently, more amused at the boy than upset for the squirrel. He shrugged.
"I'd seen a bright red light shoot my uncle James back into the fireplace once," he replied eagerly. "It wasn't lit, of course."
"Well that would have been the Disarming jinx, not a stinging jinx," Rowena said. The Ravenclaws were a powerful family, well-known and wealthy for their knowledge of all things magical. She had learned everything there was to learn about the magical arts from her parents. She knew that not everyone was that fortunate, but it still surprised her that there were children who didn't know how to use magic properly, or even what the difference was between a simple jet of sparks and the Killing Curse.
"I'm Ollie," the boy said. "Ollie Ollivander."
"Rowena Ravenclaw," Rowena introduced herself, smiling again. "Does your family own the wand shop in Diagon Alley?" At her words, the boy inflated with pride.
"That's us. Dad promised he'd make me the best wand there ever was for my birthday in June," Ollie boasted. "That's when he says he's going to teach me as much as he knows that I don't already… too bad I already know all he does."
Rowena's mind clicked suddenly. "I'd be happy to teach you some magic when you've got a wand, Ollie. I know a great deal of magic myself," she offered. He wants to know magic. I know magic… I can teach, can't I? Rowena thought, her mind already racing.
"I know, dad's told me about you Ravenclaws. You live up on the hill, you're rich and smart." Ollie dropped his voice to a whisper, standing close to Rowena on the other side of the picket fence. "Would you really teach me?"
"Of cour – Protego!" she cried, standing upright and deflecting a Disarming jinx. "That, Ollie, was the Expelliarmus you were looking for," she added with a small smile at the boy, before turning to face the man on the porch. He had to be Ollie's father, and he had his wand pointed right at Rowena. Unfazed by the attack, Rowena aimed right back at him.
"Ollie, get away from her," he ordered, keeping his green eyes locked on Rowena's black ones. "What are you doing down here, Ravenclaw? Thought the commoner scene was too low for your folk." Rowena met his gaze with steely determination. People mostly had one of two feelings for her family – either they admired the Ravenclaws for their creativity, brains and beauty or they hated them, under the illusion that Rowena and her family held themselves above the crop of wizards and Muggles alike around Scotland. Clearly, Mr. Ollivander was one of the second types.
"I'm allowed to take a walk in my own town, Mr. Ollivander," Rowena said, fighting to keep her voice level and cool. "I wasn't going to hurt your son, on the contrary I was offering to teach him magic, once he has a wand of his own."
"Where did you get the wand? Not from me," Mr. Ollivander pointed out, ignoring Rowena's request.
"I made it, my father and I worked on it when I was seven," she retorted. "And I'd be more than happy to make your son one, and to teach him how to use magic properly…"
"Properly!" Mr. Ollivander spat. "I'll have you know that I can make my boy a wand ten times better than some Ravenclaw could, and I can teach him better too!"
"Dad…" Ollie moaned.
"Fine, never mind," Rowena snapped. "Ollie, you know where to find me if you ever want to be more than a wandmaker." She turned on her heel and stormed down the street, away from the deflating boy.
"Oh no, I know that face too well," Helga Hufflepuff commented, setting a mug of Butterbeer in front of Rowena. "That's your deep-in-thought face."
"Why the 'uh-oh'?" Rowena asked her friend, smirking.
"Because the last time you got your deep-in-thought face, you decided it would be fun to explore the forests behind your manor and we nearly got killed by a rouge centaur," Helga pointed out, and both women laughed.
When Helga was ten, her parents decided that she couldn't get a good education or sense of the world in the Welsh valleys where they lived, so the entire Hufflepuff family moved to Scotland. There, the Ravenclaws tutored Helga and the girls became close friends.
"No, I was thinking… you know Ollivander's in Diagon Alley, right?" Rowena asked, and Helga nodded.
"Far off from here though, isn't it? Diagon Alley's in London," Helga pointed out.
"Yes, well, I suppose he Apparates," Rowena mused to herself. Helga cocked an eyebrow as she polished a mug with magic. "See, I was walking down through the village on my way here," Rowena explained, and quickly told her friend about the afternoon's events. "Anyway, I was thinking about how none of these kids can get any kind of real education here."
"They can't get any kind of real education anywhere," Helga pointed out. "That's why we came here."
"There's a school here?" a new voice asked. Rowena glanced over and saw a strong-built man with a mane of red hair and a beard to match sitting a little down the bar from her, holding a half-full mug of beer.
"You aren't from around here," Rowena said, noticing his accent.
"I know, I'm from England," the man said, "but a close friend of mine was up here on vacation, said that the Hawkshead Pub nearly rivaled our own Leaky Cauldron." He smiled beneath his beard.
"Balding bloke? Sort of creepy looking, with grey eyes?" Helga asked. The man nodded. "Yeah, I've seen him round here once or twice a few weeks ago. He wore a locket round his neck, one with an S engraved into it."
"That's Salazar alright," the man said, chuckling. "Godric Gryffindor."
"Helga Hufflepuff," Helga said with a broad grin.
"And who's this lovely raven-haired lady?" Godric asked, shifting his gaze to Rowena.
"Rowena Ravenclaw," she replied, already liking the warm, friendly man. "And no, there isn't a school here – I don't think there's a proper school anywhere – but I'd like to start one."
Helga stared at Rowena. "You know, your plans are normally awful, but this one doesn't sound too bad," she mused.
"I feel sorry for them, is all," Rowena admitted. "I mean, they're going to grow up and then what? They'll end up half-ass witches and wizards who don't know how to use their magic properly and end up turning themselves into boulders! They need to be taught."
"We need a place though," Godric said. Both women looked at him. "What? I like this idea as much as you do, and I want in on it," he said defensively. "Besides, I know a fair bit of magic… I'm part of the royal family in Cornwall, and they taught me well."
"Alright, your highness, where would you say we set up this school?" Rowena asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking. Godric grinned.
"I've no more idea than you do, m'lady, but that's not the biggest of our worries. We need a purpose, and teachers and lessons and a name… surely it's not just going to be the three of us?"
"Four?" Helga suggested. "That Salazar man, the friend of yours, he seemed quite knowledgeable… he could defiantly be an asset."
"I'd like to meet the man first," Rowena said carefully.
"I'll let him know when I Apparate back… we can both be back here at noon tomorrow, to better discuss this," Godric said, standing up. "I really do think this is a good idea. Best idea I've heard in years."
"You're going back to England this late?" Rowena asked doubtfully.
"I'm afraid so, there's nowhere decent for me to sleep here," Godric said, shrugging.
"Come to my house," Rowena said instantly. "I live in a manor, there's plenty of room, and I'll even lend you my grey owl, Tobias, to owl your friend." She didn't know why she was suddenly so eager to have Godric near her. Already he had an infectious smile, warmth that drew Rowena right to him like a moth to a flame. She liked it… more than she should.
"Oh yes, you're the noble Ravenclaws of Scotland, I know about you," Godric said with a grin. "I believe our parents have had dinner a few times."
"I thought I knew the name," Rowena said, returning the grin.
"Well then, I'd be happy to stay at Ravenclaw manor, Rowena," said Godric. Rowena smiled, her heart skipping a beat. She held out her arm and Godric took it. Just before she Apparated back home, she caught a glace from Helga.
You fancy him, don't you? Her kind brown eyes seemed to say.
Shut up, Rowena's black ones retorted, and then they were gone.