"They've found me. They've finally found me."
Those were the words that ran through Helga Hufflepuff's mind as she calmly took a seat near the still crackling fire. The villagers banged and shouted at the door but, for once, Helga's need to be hospitable wasn't so strong. She knew they would enter soon enough and then, with their hustle and bustle to drag her to the stake, she would not have the time to serve them her legendary mandrake tea. It truly could sooth all ales… or most of them anyway.
She sat in her over cushioned chair and looked fondly at her collection of rare plants that decorated her living room, taking in the beautiful scents and colours one last time. She had spent so much time nurturing them, their end would come not long after her own. They were all she had left of her father, she hoped the care she had shown them made up for what she couldn't show him at the time.
Even in front of the fire, she felt the cold winter draft before she heard the door fall to the ground like a three falling in a forest, only those in the vicinity would hear it, only those in the vicinity might care. Non one in the vicinity would stop it though. She was just the unmarried girl, one of many, who had been taken away.
Men entered her living room, yelling and waving pitchforks and torches in the air. One, a particularly chubby man who Helga recognised to be the old baker Robert, she had often gone to him when she needed a loaf or two, knocked over her great, great grand mother's vase, causing it to shatter into a million pieces. Of coarse, she was the only one to notice it as they pulled her by her long blond hair and threw her on her knees before the preacher.
"Helga Emilia Hufflepuff, you have been charged with Witchcraft on the account of trying to bring the untimely death of Peter Johnson."
"I was not going to kill the boy." She gently said trying to get back on her feet ut someone, unseen to her, kicked her form behind forcing her back on her knees. Through gritted teeth she continued . "He was going to die Father, this curse… it cured him when all other medications failed! He's better now, isn't he?"
"So you admit to the act!"
"But not of attempted murder!"
"Silence you rotten mistress of the Darkness. You yourself have admitted to your crime! You have been perverted by it and willingly follow the teachings of pagans! You shall be burnt!"
At this the men around Helga roared in agreement, spitting on the ground around her, some landed on the back of her dress, she could feel it and tried very hard to ignore it.
"Will you really burn me for saving a life?" she protested while attempting to stand again, her modest brown dress, even in it tattered state, falling elegantly around her.
"You have chosen to spawn with the Darkness, Witch! You must be punished." roared the preacher squinting up at Helga, who was a good foot taller then him, his long crooked nose pointing up at her face like an arrow.
"I didn't choose this!" she yelled. "I was cursed!"
"I'm sorry to hear that you believe such nonsense."
Suddenly, in a giant multi-coloured cloud of smoke, a woman appeared between the preacher and Helga. She looked older then Helga, with curled brown hair tied back into an intricate bun. She had a slim, delicate frame draped in a stunning royal blue dress almost the same shade of as her eyes.
"Another one!" yelled the preacher, taking a step back. "Capture the witches!"
But the mob of men, amongst their anger and bloodlust, were still too stunned by the beautiful woman's appearance to react.
"I swear, the idiocy portrayed her in this room is a clear reflection as to why our country is falling to shambles! Honestly!" The woman shook her head disapprovingly before turning to look at Helga, who looked almost as stunned as the surrounding men. "I say, close your mouth, we don't want to be catching any flies now do we? No, no I'm being very serious, stop your gawking and take my hand, we will be leaving these muggles to carry on their business as usual, don't you think?"
The woman extended a pale hand towards Helga, in the other she held what looked like a long stick made of cherry wood and pointed it in the general direction of the inquisitor.
Helga hesitated.
This was a true witch before her. But what was worse, the witch or death?
"Oh c'mon we don't have all day." Said the woman roughly grabbing her arm and flicking the stick. Instantly it felt as if Helga had been separated from her intestines and her eyes were spinning their sockets.
"Don't worry dear, the first time is always the hardest."
Although Helga didn't exactly understand what the woman had said, slowly, although still a bit sick, her eyes stopped spinning and her stomach, thankfully, returned to its original place.
Stranger even, Helga was now standing in a totally different room.
It smelt dank and humid as if it still hadn't dried off after the last flood. The windows decorated the room but torches filled it with so much light it almost felt like day. Simple, wooden tables and chairs were placed neatly around the edges, the leftovers plates or a rushed dinner still decorated their surface.
"All ok now dearie?" said the woman, flashing her a knowing smile.
Helga took a rushed step backwards, almost falling over her skirt.
"Y-you're a w-witch!" she stammered. Looking frantically around the room for some form of escape.
"Depends of your definition of witch." Said the woman shrugging. "If you believe the muggle's definition, I'd very well deny being one all together. We magic folk have much more important matters to deal with then sending the plague or a bad harvest. It's all this bad sanitation and over use of the fields if you ask me."
"Muggle."
"Mind your language young lady!" said the woman crossly, narrowing her eyes.
"No. No I didn't mean to offend you, but you said that word twice now." explained Helga, standing up straighter and looked at the older woman. She still didn't know how much she liked associating with such a witch, she may have saved her from the mob, but there was no guarantee this new place was any better. Could it be she was already planning of turning her into a toad?
"Ah, observant one you are! Muggle is what we call non-magical folk."
"Non-magical folk… so you are telling me there are actually more of you?" asked Helga, her mind reeling, all her life she had thought that she had been cursed with such a burden all by herself. Now this woman was telling her there might be others with the same curse?
"Oh, I hope you me us, you are magical after all and there are many more my dear, but I'll explain more later after you've spoken to the rest and had yourself a nice cup of soup…
"Who are you then? Where are we?" said Helga interrupting her while crossing her arms stubbornly.
HP1"Oh! where are my manners My name is Rowena Ravenclaw." Said the woman, bowing.