Morwena Ravenclaw watched her servants die. They were not warriors, but they gave their lives all the same, to protect their Lady. Below the walls, the raiders of Lord Glenmich were launching spell after spell. With each new blast of dark magic, more and more of her servants fell to their deaths. With every death, Morwena felt her heart grow heavier. Since the death of Arthur, forty years ago, the tide had turned.

Once, the Isles of Britain had been ordered. Under Arthur's guidance, and Merlin's wisdom, the noble wizarding families had driven dark wizards from the shores. It had been hard, but creatures of nightmare, wizards seeking power above all else, had finally been banished. Until Mordred and his challenge. With the death of Arthur, all hope had fragmented. The allied wizarding families bickered over the throne. When they should have united to drive back the wild forces of evil, they fought themselves.

Arthur may have killed Mordred before he died, but there were hundreds of dark wizards now, all of them carving their own kingdoms of brutality from the wreckage of the old order. Her husband, Ulric Ravenclaw, Arthur's seneschal had led the struggle for a long time, until he defeat three days ago at the hands of Lord Glenmich.

And now, Glenmich was here to claim his prize. Ravenclaw's lands, its possessions, and its Lady. She was under no illusions that Glenmich would let her live in the freedom Ulric had allowed her. No, he would take her, enslave her, and have her as his toy. "Look who I have conquered, the proud witch Ravenclaw," he would declare to his follows as he supped in her hall.

There was a sudden blast of fire, and the magical gates to the keep finally shattered against the might of Glenmich's magic. Shaking her head, Morwena turned to look at her young, eight-year old daughter. She was the last of her children who remained alive. All the others had fought alongside Ulric during the wars since Arthur's death. All the others had died, nobly, for the vision Arthur and Ulric had stood for.

Beside Rowena stood the oldest servant of Ravenclaw, Eddard. Dismissed by many as doddering, Morwena knew he was the brightest, most gifted wizard they had. He had been tutor to all her children, and would now tutor her daughter in exile. She gave her daughter one last embrace, and then straightened, turning to Eddard. "Two hippogriffs are tethered at the beach. In the saddlebags, you will bear all the secret lore of Ravenclaw, our most ancient artifacts and treasures."

The old man swallowed heavily, his eyes glistening, "If I leave without you, Morwena, I leave the greatest of Ravenclaw's treasures to the mercy of Glenmich."

She shook her head, "No, my good friend, no. I am no milkmaid, to go meekly to his arms. I am the wife of Ulric, and I will show to this upstart darkling that I am worthy of the Ravenclaw name." Her voice softened, "I will not see you again, dear Eddard. Please, look after my daughter. And keep her safe. This country is no longer what it was, but perhaps in years to come... perhaps there might come hope."

Giving Rowena one last kiss on the forehead, she nodded. "Run, now, both of you." A crash below the tower announced approaching doom. "Now! I will hold them up. As long as you reach the hippogriffs in time, they cannot hope to catch you."

And so she did not lose her nerve, so she did not flee with them both after the sacrifices her people had made for her, Morwena turned away from her oldest friend and daughter. Drawing her wand from her robes, she waited, facing the door. "Ulric, I will join you soon."

Moments passed, during which the sounds of battle ended outside. Either her people had surrendered, or they were dead. There was one scream outside her door, as her last defender fell. And then the door exploded into fragments of searing wood. She made a simple wand-swish, and a blast of white fire forced its way through the doorway. Three robed wizards fell to the floor, screaming in agony, before lying still.

"Hold!" a voice boomed, "The witch is mine."

And through the door, strode Glenmich. A handsome man, a tall man, with robes of the brightest white, he did not look like a dark wizard. He wore a cloak of golden sheepskin, and it was clasped about his shoulders with a runed brooch. Morwena sneered, "You still have the temerity to wear Arthur's insignia, Eldon?"

The man nodded once, "I do. Once a knight of Camelot, always a knight of Camelot. You do not understand my purpose, Morwena. I will unify this great nation, and teach our children the ways of magic, such magics as are beyond you and your weak allies. Just look around you. Everywhere across these isles, the old houses are falling. New order is coming. You can join us, Morwena. Join me, as my wife, and rule these isles as your could have done under Ulric."

Morwena shook her head, "Ulric never sought the throne, and I will never do so. I deny you, Eldon. I deny your darkness, your evil. Throughout these isles, your followers and your rivals are dealing death, torture and terror to anyone weaker than them. You dishonour the ways of Camelot. I will never stand by your side."

The wizard smirked, "Oh, but you will." He drew back his wand, and whispered, "Imp-"

Without a sound, Morwena gestured with her wand. A sound like a bell filled the room and golden light shone around the dark wizard. With a snarl, Glenmich stepped backwards, and with a swish of his wand the light transformed to green fire, which erupted hungrily towards her. This smoothly transformed into motes of purple light, which shot towards Glenmich, only to transform to harsh, biting insects – to golden daggers – to a writhing mass of snakes – to a moving puddle of molten silver – to a dark shadow – to a shroud of mist. Back and forth they clashed, Morwena's skills being tested to the limit.

They broke off for a moment, Glenmich staring at her in amazement, "Ulric allowed his wife greater power than him?"

Morwena smiled softly, "Ulric allowed me anything. Under Arthur's rule, man and woman are equal. It is only your rule that denies that."

Glenmich did not respond, instead sending a blast of purple lightning towards Morwena. Again, they exchanged spell after spell. Glenmich's followers watched as powerful magic smashed the tower roof open, even destroyed the walls leaving them open to the elements. Yet Morwena knew she could not keep this up for long and, sure enough, she moved to block one spell a fraction of a second too late. A powerful force knocked her to the ground, and Morwena glared upwards at Glenmich, who held a wand directly at her throat. "Now, beautiful, you will learn your place." His eyes moved to her hand still clutching her wand. "You will have no need for that any more. I will protect you, and you will love me."

A wave of revulsion hit her, at his words. She could fight his will for a long time. But eventually, she would break, and she would be nothing but a toy. A pretty doll to wait for his pleasure and to speak only the words he told her to speak. Everything about her mind would vanish under his brutal grip. There was only one choice possible.

"Lord Eldon Glenmich... I give you a last gift."

He frowned, "A gift? What gift?"

In response, she uttered a single word. Bright white light claimed her. Pain of her magical fire lanced through her once, and then she knew peace.

There was nothing left of the Ravenclaw hold, save rubble and debris, still smouldering. It would smoulder for years, Morwena's last incantation holding enough power to keep the fire going for years. From the rubble, a charred, blackened body stood. His clothes were destroyed, his body little more than moving ash. Yet he was powered by darkness greater than Morwena could destroy. Eyes of a fiery red glared about him, as he watched those of his followers who had survived come to kneel before him.

Those red eyes narrowed as he saw, perhaps a mile away, two hippogriffs soaring into the moonlit sky. "Clever Morwena," he rasped, his blackened hands clenching around his wand. "But I will find your brat. And she will take her place at my side... the place you denied, she will have. That I promise you."

The well-appointed manor house nestled safely in a Welsh valley. In a candlelit, small room made warm by the flickering remnants of a fire, a plump, beautiful witch gazed into a blue-glowing mirror. Tears fell down her face as she saw her friend sacrifice herself, all to buy her daughter time to escape. Hronwen Hufflepuff allowed herself a few moments to cry, to mourn her fallen friend, before she stood. Approaching the fading hearth, she pulled some powder from a silver bowl.

She glanced around the small room and sighed. In the rooms above her six children slept, unaware that this night, darkness moved. They were unaware that the Hufflepuffs' greatest ally had been destroyed. And Hronwen suspected other allies were in danger this very night. It was her task to warn them, to set into place the essential exile of many wizarding families. They would lead the fight against the dark lords like Glenmich from outside Britain. Not for her family, the exile, though. Hufflepuffs remained true, always dedicated to the end. Her family could not leave, not when they had lands to protect and people who served them.

Hronwen sighed, and then stepped into the fireplace. She uttered a single word, before vanishing in a flurry of magic.

All across the isles that night, Hronwen passed the word. For many, she was too late, arriving in a wrecked home, or to a scene of slaughter. But for others, she was on time. It is said that the loyalty of the Hufflepuff allowed hundreds to escape the dark wizards' concerted effort. The dark wizards were not overly concerned. Those that stayed were slain. Those that fled were no longer a threat to their rule. On that night, a night of screams and torture, the last remnants of Arthur's kingdom were crushed.