For Quidditch League

Puddlemere United, reserve Chaser 2

Prompt: Write about a character who is superstitious

A/N: I saw that thunderstorms are supposed to be bad omens but no reason was given, so I improvised. :)

The thunder woke her.

Helga bolted upright, resting a trembling hand against her chest. Her heart raced painfully, seeming to beat violently against her bones. She took a deep breath, but it failed to steady her.

She wasn't afraid of storms. Her mother taught her that storms were a helpful part of life. They helped plants grow and kept the world green and healthy.

But her mother also taught her that thunderstorms could be a bad omen, and this one felt wrong. She couldn't remember the last time it had rained; they're in the middle of a dry season. As welcome as the downpour may be, she knew it could only mean trouble.

Still trembling, she climbed out of bed, smoothing out the frizz in her messy chestnut hair. Even within the castle, the air was thick from the nasty weather outside. As she approached the window, a streak of lightning cut through the night sky, illuminating the inky blackness. Helga's pulse quickened, and she stumbled back.

She wanted nothing more than to be a little girl again and climb into bed with her mother. There was little else that could calm her. Still, her mother was far away, and Helga was an adult; she had to find a different way to handle her anxiety.

She didn't know what else to do. Desperate, she summoned her robe and slipped it on. Her mother was not around to ease her mind, but there was still someone in the castle who could.

x

Rowena did not look impressed by Helga's tale. She sat at the small table in the center of her chambers, elbows resting on the shiny, mahogany surface. Though she listened without interruption, her dark eyes were sleep-heavy, and Helga feared she might fall back asleep.

"It's an omen!" Helga said, nodding to herself as though that would make her story more believable.

Rowena stretched, her back popping. She covered her mouth with a pale, delicate hand and yawned. "It's a silly superstition," she said, dropping her hand back to the table. "A silly superstition that can't harm you or cause anything to happen at all."

Helga shook her head. Why couldn't Rowena understand? Superstitions came into being for a reason. They were not silly little things to explain away what simple minds couldn't understand. Like all stories and legends, superstitions had to start somewhere.

"It's more than that," Helga insisted, wringing her hands together. "There was a thunderstorm during the dry season one time when I was a little girl. That night, my father…" She blinked rapidly, trying to prevent the tears from stinging her eyes. "My father died!"

Her dear friend still didn't look convinced. Rowena sighed and offered Helga a smile that was dripping with pity. "Death is just a part of life," she said, her tone surprisingly gentle, though with a firm conviction. "If it was your father's time to go, it wouldn't have mattered what the weather was doing. He would have still died."

Helga clenched her jaw. She should have known Rowena wouldn't see things her way. Maybe she had known. At the end of the day, Rowena was her closest friend and the only one who could truly help her, even if they didn't see eye to eye.

"Can you offer any logical explanation why a thunderstorm would cause something bad to happen?" Rowena paused and tipped her head to the side, lips pursing as she seemed to consider something. "Well, an explanation beyond the winds and rain causing damage to land and property…"

Helga shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. Her cheeks burned with heated color, and she looked away, pointedly dropping her gaze to the stone floor. Why did Rowena have to love logic so much? Couldn't she just see the world as something more whimsical, something that didn't have to be explained away?

"See? There's no reason," Rowena continued, and there was no denying the hint of pride in her voice. "It's just like a nightmare. It may plague your mind and frighten you, but it can't harm you or anyone else."

Helga swallowed dryly. She wanted to argue, to talk about the stories she heard as a child. Thunderstorms could hold the worst omens, and the one that woke her had felt like a harbinger of some sort. Try as she might, she just couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen.

Arguing was not an option. Rowena was lovely, but once her mind was made up, there was nothing that could change it. Helga deflated slightly, slumping forward and resting her hands on her knees, her tangled hair falling in her face like a curtain. She could recognize defeat when she saw it.

"I suppose you're right," Helga said, though she didn't believe it one bit. "I'm just being silly."

Rowena climbed to her feet and moved closer, resting her hand on Helga's shoulder. "I imagine it must be frightening for you," she said softly. "The mind's tricks can be quite troublesome. If you would like to sleep in my chambers tonight, I would understand. Perhaps it is best that you aren't alone."

Helga looked up at her, lips twitching into a faint smile. Most people called Rowena intimidating. Maybe she was; Helga never really thought so. Beneath her rigid exterior and her dismissal of anything that isn't logical, she had a heart of gold, and Helga loved her dearly.

"I appreciate the offer." Helga stood, smoothing out the creases in her robe. She turned her attention to her friend and offered her a smile, surprised that it felt strong and genuine when she was still shaken and afraid. "I'm afraid I'll have to decline, as I'm not a small child anymore."

She wished she could be one, and Rowena could fight away her fears. In the end, however, she knew she had to face this alone.

"If you're sure," Rowena said, frowning as she tugged at her dark hair. "I just want you to be okay."

Helga nodded. "I will be."

And yet, as she made her way back to her chambers and listened to the merciless roar of thunder beyond the stone walls, she couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen.

x

When she arrived at breakfast the following morning, she could sense the tension in the air before she even reached the staff table. The source was obvious: Salazar was gone. Under ordinary circumstances, she could assume that he overslept. Today, however, she could see the mix of anger and sadness in Godric's green eyes.

"What's happened?" she asked, taking her place between Rowena and Godric.

At first, neither answered. Rowena tugged anxiously at her dark waves as Godric speared his eggs a bit too aggressively with his fork. Whatever it was, it had to be bad. Godric was usually so cheerful, and it broke Helga's heart to see him like this.

"Salazar is gone." Godric dropped his fork to his plate and folded his arms over his chest. "We quarreled again last night."

Helga knew that Godric and Salazar's friendship had been on the rocks lately. Once, they were as thick as thieves. All that changed when their ideals failed to align. Arguments were commonplace, and their quarrels often escalated dangerously. More than once, Helga was forced to break the two up before a duel broke out between them.

"He's coming back," Rowena said, though Helga could hear the uncertainty in her voice. "He simply needs time to calm down. This is hardly the first time he's left the castle. He'll show up again tonight, drunk and merry."

Godric shifted in his chair, rubbing his palm over his thick mane of red hair. His cheeks flushed a soft pink. "I'm not sure that you're right," he said with a heavy sigh. "I visited his chambers this morning, hoping to apologize. It was empty."

Silence hung in the air, tense and uncomfortable. None of them spoke. They turned their attention back to their breakfast, as though an unspoken agreement to carry on like normal was passed among them.

The other two seemed so surprised by the sudden disappearance of their dear friend, but Helga just sighed, a knowing look on her face as she pushed her food around on her plate. She didn't know that Salazar would leave, but she knew that something would happen. Thunderstorms don't just happen in the dry season without bringing something tragic in their wake.

Last night, she would have delighted in the opportunity to prove to Rowena that her so-called silly superstition was real. Today, however, she wished she could have been wrong.