What do we know about the four founders of Hogwarts? What does anybody know? Seriously, are there any books out there titled Biographies of the Founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Hogwarts was built over one-thousand years ago, so how can anyone be sure of who built it, why and how? Not even the most channeled divinationist nor the wisest wizard know much about the four people who founded the most prestigious wizarding school in the world.

And it's a good thing they do not. For no one would ever guess that Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff were criminals wanted by the Organization for Economic Reformation ...

Chapter One

The Hidden Holocaust

Elizabeth crouched low in the hyacinth bushes. Her hand searched the dark ground. Her bony fingers came upon a palm-sized stone, and she clutched it. Staring through the thick branches (though it did no good to stare, for it was pitch black out), she tossed it into a nearby bush.

A few seconds later the same rock landed with a soft thump in the grass. The coast was clear.

Elizabeth turned to the couple who were silently crouched in the bushes behind her. She pulled the man's hand and he followed as she crawled across the grove. She stretched her hand into the dark space, praying to God that there was not an animal in front of her. There was not. Her hand landed on a log. She rolled the log back, revealing a narrow hole in the ground. She motioned for the husband and wife to climb in.

Elizabeth slid into the hole after them. She carefully rolled the log back over the entrance, making it completely invisible to any creature or person outside. She then turned to look around.

They were standing inside what one would think to be a rabbit hole. The only difference was it was large enough for someone to barely stand up in, and there was a fireplace containing a roaring fire at the opposite end of the entrance. Sitting on a rock near that fire was a powerfully built man with wavy golden hair that reached his shoulders. His eyes were closed, his chin was propped upon his palms, and his elbows were pressing into his knees.

Upon hearing the footsteps in the dirt, he immediately jumped up to greet the couple. "Where you off to tonight, folks?"

"Sweden." said the pale-skinned, rosy-cheeked, hooded woman, who was clutching a silently sleeping child (which had a spell put on it).

"Vhacouvre," clarified the husband.

"Excellent." said the powerful man. "Have either of you used flu powder before?" he motioned to a copper bucket beside the fireplace.

The husband's curious squinting and head tilt was enough of a response.

"Ah, well then. What you must do," the man explained, "is take a handful of the powder -- like this -- toss it into the fire, step into the flames, and clearly state where you wish to go."

He handed the flu powder to the wife, Lydia, who carefully slid the baby into her husband's arms.

"Thank you, sir," she breathed in a sweet, slightly raspy voice.

The man advised, "Now don't be afraid to step into the flames. They don't hurt a bit."

Lydia had been through much scarier things than this fire, and she bravely tossed the powder into the flames, stepped in, and yelled, "Vhacouvre!" She disappeared in a flash.

The husband seemed too tired to be shocked. He outstretched his right arm toward the man, balancing the child in the other. The man shook his hand.

"Thank you so much, sir," said the husband. He reached out to shake Elizabeth's hand, "and God bless you. You're doing a wonderful thing."

He dropped his hand and followed the same suit as his wife. When he had disappeared, Elizabeth sank to the dirt floor and the young man collapsed to the ground, almost banging his head on the small boulder he had been seated on.

"This job is so exhausting!" moaned the man as he leaned against the rock. "If only this wasn't a night job."

"The war does not rest at night," said Elizabeth wisely.

He closed his eyes and after a moment asked, "You're new at this, aren't you?"

Elizabeth, who was lying on the ground a few feet away, rolled onto her stomach and faced him. "I did this at another location. Then I switched to this location because I thought an old friend of mine would be passing through. I wanted to see him before he escaped."

"Who was the friend?" he queried.

"John Trump," she promptly replied.

"Don't recognize it. What did he look like?"

"Well," Elizabeth recalled, "he's old now. Average sized. Scraggly gray hair that you almost never see, as it's usually covered by a worn hat. Torn, faded robes, a weary man."

"Sounds like all of us," he declared.

"I don't think you included yourself in the 'us,'" she pointed out.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, look at yourself. You are strong with clean robes and tamed hair," she said, eyeing his hair with jealous eyes.

He snorted. "I was born broad-shouldered. The robes are freshly stolen. And as for my hair, I'd cut it off if I had the tools. But unfortunately I'm one of the many who were caught by the OFER. They snapped my wand in half. I have not been able to give myself a haircut since."

Elizabeth was so taken aback by what he had said that she did not catch up on the fact that she had a wand and could do the job. "You were caught by the OFER? How did you escape?"

"Long story," he yawned, stretching out onto the soil floor. "How about you tell me your story instead? What's your name, anyway?"

"Elizabeth. And yours?"

"Thomas. Where are you from?"

"I'm from the same place as all of us. The slums."

"But you looked kind of, well ... not English," he said.

"What do you mean, 'not English'?" she demanded.

"Well, your skin is much tanner than anyone I've met. Your eyes are slightly narrower, your hair is blacker than a crow's wing. You even have a slight accent. Though I can't decipher what kind."

"I simply have different roots than most people you know, that's all," she sniffed.

"Whatever," he made himself comfortable (or as comfortable as one could get on a dirt floor) and commanded, "Now tell me a bedtime story."

"Bedtime story?" Elizabeth said skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. A bedtime story. You know what those are, right? Your parents told you them, right?"

She made a funny noise with her throat. "You know, you're not what you appear to be."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," she chose her words carefully, for the least thing she wanted to do was upset a 75-percent muscle man, "you look like a hejball player."

Hejball was the most popular sport at the time, made for only the roughest and toughest men. When quidditch is invented (for it would not be invented for another hundred years), hejball would be put to shame.

The man yawned. He was all too used to being told this, and he easily shrugged it off. "Yeah, sure, if you say so. Now how bout that story?"

She sniffed. "Fine. I'll tell you one."

"Yay! I win," Thomas made himself comfortable on the floor once again and listened with keen ears.

"It started a few years back," she began, "when the Minister of Magic, Denamore Clarke, proposed a law that made the wealthy pay higher taxes than the poor. People in poverty, like us, agreed with this law. But the wealthy thought they were being penalized for having money. So they formed--"

"Oh must you tell this story?" whined Thomas. "I only lived through it and then heard it all over one thousand and one times!"

"Good. It will be boring, and so you'll go to sleep." Elizabeth did not let him get his way. "Now, this group of wealthy witches and wizards formed the Organization for Economic Reformation, or OFER. They protested this law. They wanted everybody to be taxed equally. Then the protests turned into riots.

"They threatened people from the slums that if they did not join with them, they would be seriously hurt. More merciful wizards bribed the poor to join them. They thought that the Minister of Magic would only listen to the common person, not a wealthy witch or wizard who had everything their heart desired already.

"It became dark times. People in poverty did not know if an OFER member would pop into their fireplace at any given time and threaten their family to join the rebels. Many people boarded up their fireplaces. When winter came, some froze to death, just because they were so paranoid.

Thomas interrupted, "And this story is supposed to make me fall into a peaceful sleep, how?"

"Hey, you asked for a bedtime story, and you got one, now deal with it."

He mumbled something that sounded like "slave driver" or "moody."

"Anyway, I'll continue. OFER overpowered the Ministry. Clarke was overthrown. They were in power now. They passed a horrible law that there was to be no more poverty. And in order to do that, the slums must be wiped out completely. So they went around killing the homeless adults and taking the children to new, rich families. That's where we came in. People like us have the job of guarding secret portals that allow poor folk to escape to other countries. We lead them here, and ... "

Elizabeth fell asleep in mid sentence. Thomas was right in saying that the story was dull. Especially since they had lived through it. Or were living through it, for the war was not over yet.

~*~

In the heart of London, where the homeless crawled the streets like blind ants, in desperate search for food and safety, where people put themselves in danger simply by stepping out their door, where the filthiest of all mud- puddle, dirt-ball creatures lived, was a manor. Twenty-foot hedges that were cursed to swallow anyone who tried to break in surrounded this rose among weeds.

Within this manor lived a simple family: a mother, a father, and a nineteen- year-old, tall, red-haired son. The parents were strong members of the OFER. Their son, Erich, however, was not.

Erich (German way of spelling Eric, pronounced the same) stood in the doorway of his parents' room. He watched them as they lay in a peaceful slumber on their feather mattress. He stood there for a very long time, taking a good look at the both of them. He whispered in a voice so barely audible that not even a mosquito buzzing around his head could hear him say, "Goodbye."

He closed the door with a soft click behind him and crept down the corridor, slid down the marble staircase, and slunk out the front door. He did not stop walking until he reached the outer hedges, and found himself in the dark, empty mud streets. He turned to his house and drew his wand from his pocket.

"Accio broom!"

Within a few seconds, a broom had flown out his bedroom window and into his hands. Quidditch had not yet been invented (it may have been easier to explain this earlier, but the year is 789), and the sole purpose of brooms was for transportation. He mounted his broom, kicked off, and soared into the starry sky. He had succeeded in running away from his home, and was now going to do what he had dreamed of doing for years: help fight the OFER.

~*~

The final stop we will make is in Vhacouvre, Sweden. In this mountain- countryside was a farm cottage called "Nilsson Notch." It was owned by Mrs. Eva Nilsson (whose husband had passed away a few years back), her daughter, and her four sons.

Anna Nilsson was the only daughter. She was thin from lack of sugary foods. Her hair was blond, but not a Barbie blond. Wavy-curly blond hair, with streaks of white in it. She worked hard all day around the farm. While the older two brothers and her mother went off to work in town, she and the younger two boys milked the cows, herded sheep, fed pigs and chickens, cooked, sewed, and cleaned. It was a simple life. They worked hard for a living, and made it every month when the tax collectors came. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happened there. Nothing, that is, until March 27, 789.

Anna was sitting in a rocking chair, mending her sibling's torn clothes. Her little brothers were cleaning the pigs. The rest of the family was working in town. She rocked, knitted, rocked, knitted ... it was so quiet. And then-

"Excuse me?"

Anna gave a start and her eyes darted toward where the voice had come from. Standing in the fireplace was a cloaked woman. She brought down her hood.

"Oh dear, I'm truly sorry," the woman with the pale face and red cheeks apologized. "I just, er--a mistake, I'm not going to harm you."

It was lucky Anna knew English. Otherwise she would have grabbed a defense tool at once. Instead, she said, "Vat are you doing 'ere?"

"I-I'm sorry, I just--" she could not seem to find the right words.

She was saved, however, for at that moment a man holding a baby appeared in the fireplace, as well.

He stepped out. "This child has been a godsend all night. He hasn't cried once. Not even--"

He suddenly saw his wife's scared pale face and Anna's confused look. Anna reached for a candlestick.

"Oh don't worry! We are not going to harm you," the man repeated what his wife had said, "we're refugees from England."

Anna lowered the candlestick slightly, her eyes widening. "London?"

"Er--yes," the husband said. "London. You speak English?"

"Yes, I do speak English," she said with a strong accent. She tightened her grip on the candlestick again. "Now tell me, vat are you doing 'ere?"

"Well, like I said. We're refugees. We escaped to a free country so we would not be caught by the OFER."

"Rayfugees?" Anna became suspicious. "Have you committed a crime?"

"Being born," the man muttered.

The woman (Lydia, if you remember) spoke up. "The government wants to kill us because we are poor. We escaped from Britain to here. I'm sorry if we scared you. We did not mean to end up in your fireplace. We just never use flu powder, and there must have been a mix-up, and ... "

"Vlu powder?" Anna sounded interested. That phrase rang a bell. If it was what she thought it was, then she was in luck. "Do you mean vasquen? You travel by flame?"

"Yes, I-I suppose so," stammered Lydia.

"Do you haf any left?" she asked excitedly.

"There are a few specks on my hand," the man offered, "and a little on the baby's blankets."

Anna dropped her candlestick to the floor, making Lydia jump. Anna did not care. She brushed the powder into her palm and marveled at it. This stuff was her ticket out of the house. Out of Sweden to move onto a better home. She had long dreamed (though never spoke a word of it) of a better, more exciting life in a land where sheep did not outnumber the people five to one. But what about her family? What would they do without her? Then she had an idea.

"Do you haf a place to stay?" she asked the couple.

They exchanged glances and shook their heads.

"Vell you can stay 'ere. Mama is in town now. She will be back tonight for supper. You may take my bedroom. It is upstairs at the end. I cannot vrite, so explain to her who you are ven she gets home. But now, I must go."

"Where are you going?" questioned Lydia nervously.

Anna scooped an armful of logs from a bucket and arranged them in the fireplace. She took the flint box off the mantle and with trembling fingers lit a fire. Without even giving the family one last smile or a "good luck", she threw the powder into the flames, stepped in, and yelled, "LONDON!"

"No!" yelled the husband. But it was too late. She was gone.

"Why would she ever go to that horrid place?" asked the wife, staring into the fire with horrified eyes.

The man shook his head. "A young girl wanting to get away from this place. You'd know more about that than I would. She must have been what--sixteen? Seventeen? I'd want to leave this place too, if I were her. Get out of this small lifestyle." He sighed.

"Do you think she'll be all right?" Lydia asked anxiously.

The man shook his head and pointed at the floor beneath the rocking chair.

"She dropped her wand."

~*~

Elizabeth rolled over and slowly opened her eyes. It was impossible to sleep like this, on the dirt floor with flame shadows dancing all around her, and spontaneous cracks and pops emitting from the fireplace. She pulled herself onto her stomach, got out her wand, waved it around and muttered, "Cupio hora." Someone from the 21st century would have called it a holagram; there appeared a picture of a large clock face in mid-air. It had a lime-green circumference and a smoky-black face. Twelve golden hands, all of different shapes and sizes, were trailing the numbers. This clock, although ticking, could not be held, moved, or touched, for it was simply an image.

"Three AM," she groaned. She flopped onto her back and waved her wand behind her head. The clock disappeared in a puff black smoke, which faded away.

She pressed her palms into her eyes. In two hours there was another wave of people she had to meet up with at Hedgeman's Warf to lead to the portal. How was she ever going to get enough rest?

Her ears suddenly picked up a sound. It sounded like a woman's scream. But where was it coming from? Elizabeth's body tensed and her ears pricked, suddenly burning. Whatever it was, it was drawing nearer. Elizabeth sat bolt upright and stared into the fire. The flames morphed into a blue hue, and stretched upward. And then, as if regurgitating something repulsive, it spat out a young woman. A young woman with wavy blond hair, half of it pulled back, the other half fallen out. She wore a white shirt covered by a tight black vest, and a large black skirt.

"Who the hell are you?" demanded Elizabeth, raising her wand abruptly to the girl's face.

The girl stepped out and smiled, looking around the burrow. She said something in a different language, though it seemed to be more to herself than to Elizabeth.

"Explain yourself, now!" Elizabeth cried viciously, jumping to her feet, at which point Thomas woke up.

"Oh why'd you have to wake me up?" he whined, rolling over and not opening his eyes. "I was having such a nice dream."

"I don't care about that right now, Thomas! Wake up! A strange girl is here!" She barked, kicking his side.

Thomas jumped up, hitting his head on the boulder (which had been his seat previously). He grabbed his head and fell back down. The strange girl rushed over to help him, but with a swift stride Elizabeth blocked her off.

"I don't think so. Tell me who you are now. I know a lot of spells that could make your pretty hair fall off your pretty head."

"My name is Anna," she said with her Swedish accent. She peered over Elizabeth's shoulder, being more concerned with Thomas than her. "Is he alvight?"

Elizabeth turned around. "Hey Thomas, ya'll right there?"

"Yeah, just a little bump," he said, letting go of his head and standing up woozily. He was trying to look tough in front of the blond girl.

She turned back to Anna. "See? He's fine. Now explain yourself."

Anna took a deep breath. "I come from Vhacouvre, Sveden. A man and woman with a baby came to my home from my, er ... " she pointed to the fire.

"Fireplace?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.

"Yes, vireprace. I got flu powder from dem and came here."

"Why?" asked Thomas plainly.

Anna sighed and stared at him with passionate eyes. "Oh, if only you know 'ow I lived. In dat cottage tucked away in the mountains, with noting exciting or fun to do--"

"OK thanks for preaching, you can go now," Elizabeth interrupted.

Anna eyed her dangerously. "I find you very rude. If I had known the people of England were this rude, I vould not haf come."

"Good idea!" Elizabeth yelled enthusiastically. "Well there's some flu powder over there. Why don't you send youself back to the merry countryside and get out of this place. You don't belong here."

"Wait! Don't go!" Thomas cried.

Elizabeth gave him a look to make a lion turn into a mouse. He shrunk back into the corner.

"OK, fine then," Elizabeth turned back to Anna. "You can stay here. But you have to help us."

Anna's face broke into a wide smile. "Oh, I will! I will do anyting! Vat must I do?"

"Save poor people from being slaughtered by bringing them here," Elizabeth said simply, as if asking her to go to the store and pick up milk.

Her eyes widened in terror. "Oh, dat is horrible! Is dat vat de couple was running away from?"

"Assuming they're the same people that passed through here earlier on, then yes."

Anna's eyes welled tears. "Who--and why?"

Thomas begged, "Oh please don't tell the story again."

"Don't worry, I won't," Elizabeth said, sitting on the rock. "All you have to know, Miss--"

"Anna," she smiled brightly and curtsied.

"--Miss Anna, is to keep your mouth shut at all times and be as quiet as possible. Got it?"

She nodded vigorously.

"Good," Elizabeth sighed. "Now--"

She stopped in mid-sentence.

"What is it?" asked Thomas, always on alert for something wrong.

Elizabeth held up a hand, and whispered, "I think I hear something."

Not hearing her, Thomas yelled back, "What?"

At that moment, there came a crashing noise. Anna screamed and hid behind Thomas. Elizabeth jumped onto the boulder, ready to fight. But what she was capable of fighting was nothing compared to what invaded the burrow.

The ceiling entrance had been blown open, and wizards dressed in black cloaks came pouring in. Elizabeth stumbled backwards over the rock. Quick on her feet, she dashed for the fireplace. But she was not quick enough. A wizard grabbed her arms and pulled them behind her back. She screamed. She kicked. She did everything she could, but they were caught. The OFER had somehow found out about the portal, and now they were like dragons in water.

The three struggled as they were being dragged out. She heard Anna sobbing, "I vant to go home! I vant to go home!" Thomas was battling with all his might. It took three wizards to drag him out into the grove. Elizabeth kicked the person holding her. He cried out in pain and let go of her. She ran. But even the fastest runner cannot outrun a curse. She heard someone scream something from behind. An electric shock ran all over her body. She shuddered, and fell to the ground, unconscious.

~*~

Erich circled above the canopy of a dense forest. Finding the right spot, he plunged through the treetops and jerked to a stop on the ground. He unmounted his broom in front of a huge moss-covered oak tree.

"Well, this must be the place," he looked over the colossal tree, damp from a light evening rain.

Erich approached it, and pulled back a large sheet of bark. He wiped his wet soiled hands on his robes and stooped low as he entered the inside of the dark tree trunk.

"Lumos."

It was empty. Empty? But how could that be? This was the right place, wasn't it? He walked back outside into the light of breaking dawn. He pulled a map out of his robes pocket, unfolded it, and read it carefully. This was the right place. But why was no one here? Oh no. They must have been ...

Erich folded up the map abruptly. He stuffed his pocket, and remounted his broom. He had to take action. As he soared back up into the sky, he formed a rescue plan in his head. His only comforting thought was, thank God my parents are part of the OFER.

~*~

"Elizabeth ... " droned a distant yet familiar voice.

Elizabeth ignored it.

"Elizabeth ... "

Why wouldn't it go away?

"Elizabeth ... "

"WHAT?" Elizabeth woke up to complete darkness and sat upright. She felt a sharp pain in her head and grabbed it. She must have gotten hurt in the struggle. "Where am I?"

"Prison," came Anna's voice from a few feet away.

Elizabeth choked. "P-P-P--"

"We were captured by de OFER," Anna explained calmly.

"No!" Elizabeth jumped to her feet. "No!" she began to pace around wildly. This couldn't have happened. She needed to think of a way out, and fast. Before-

"Anna!"

"Yes?"

"Is there anyone else in this, er--room?"

"No."

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief.

"Actually," Anna recalled, "Dere was one woman here earlier. A strange person came in and asked her if she had any money. She said yes, and he told her to follow him."

"Oh Lord. Anna, do you have any money?"

"No," she said sadly.

"Ergh!" Elizabeth threw her hands into the air and stared at the place where she thought Anna was. "Well didn't you think you needed a little pecuniae to start a new life?"

"Elizabeth, I don't know vat kind of language you are speaking, but--"

"Don't speak. I need to think of a way out."

Anna shut her mouth resentfully. Elizabeth put her hands out in front of her and walked cautiously forward. "How large is this roo--ew!"

Her hands had met something sticky. She yanked her arms back and could feel glops of a jelly-like substance covering her hands. She waved her hands madly, flinging it into Anna's eyes.

"Vat is vat?" Anna wiped the gooey substance from her eyes. She was still slightly mad at Elizabeth for telling her to shut up.

"Feel this."

Anna cautiously came towards Elizabeth. She reached her arms out. Even though it was pitch black, Elizabeth could tell that Anna had touched the wall when she cried, "Ahh! Get it off! Get it off!" Anna waved her arms madly, the jelly-like substance flying all over Elizabeth.

Elizabeth thought aloud, "This seems so familiar," she prodded it gently, "I recall hearing about this before. Oh, what was it? I think this wall is made of metamorphane."

"Meta---vat?" Anna was perplexed.

Elizabeth continued her train of thought. "Oh, what was the curse? I was taught a curse to melt metamorphane. John Trump told me it came in handy when trying to rob a Gringotts vault. Of course, I wouldn't know, but oh what was it?"

Elizabeth took up her pacing again. "It began with an L. Let's see ... larkus ... limoniate ... lumos ... lemonious ... "

"Don't you need your wand?" queried Anna skeptically.

"No, it's one of the few spells that does not require a wand, which is why it is so hard. You -- wait, where is my wand?"

Anna shrugged, though Elizabeth did not see it. "I suppose you must haf dropped it back in de woods."

Elizabeth grunted. "Well at any rate, you must be really experienced in order to pull it off," she went back to her contemplations. "Let's see ... lartinium ... lackagh ... lori--lori--Oh, it's on the tip of my tongue! Lori--lori--"

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Anna cried.

"That's it! Sake-- Lorisakius!" Elizabeth yelled, jumping up and down. "Anna, you're a genius! I'd give you a hug if it were not so dark. Lorisakius, lorisakius, lorisakius. I can't forget it now."

Elizabeth ran in one direction a few paces until she bounced off a metamorphane wall. Closing her eyes (as if it made any difference) and breathing evenly, she collected her thoughts. She whispered the spell several times, practicing the arm movements, until she finally decided she was ready.

"Lorisakius!" she called out loud and clear, waving her two arms in two swift circles.

She opened her eyes and saw a hole form in the wall. The gooey substance dripped slowly from it, and the hole slowly grew. It grew until it was about big enough for a cat to slip through. Then it stopped.

"Anna, try this as well," Elizabeth commanded.

"Vat must I do?" she asked from her corner.

"Come over here."

Elizabeth showed Anna the movements in the slight sunlight that was issueing through the hole.

"Like this--Lorisakius!" Elizabeth waved her arms.

The hole suddenly increased dramatically. Metamorphane bled from the wall rapidly. The hole was now large enough for a small person to squeeze through.

"Finish it off," Elizabeth commanded.

Anna concentrated hard. "Lorisakius!" she waved her arms. Nothing happened. "Lorisakit! Lorisakimus!"

"Concentrate!" Elizabeth barked. "Don't wing it. Concentrate really hard."

She did. And when she uttered the spell, the wall split open, welcoming an array of blinding light into the tiny prison. Shielding her eyes, Elizabeth ventured a step outside the prison, not even checking to see if there were guards around. Lucky for her, there were not.

Anna followed, blocking her eyes from the sun. "Vere are we?"

For once Elizabeth had no answer. She blinked many times to adjust her eyesight. Still, she could see little. It took several minutes before they could finally decipher the view in front of them.

It was amazing. Their 'prison' had been a small pink dome, large enough for about ten people to fit inside of it comfortably. And it was not part of a building, but a neighborhood.

They were on a mountain. Farthest up the barren mountain was their prison. and, looking down, the two of them saw other pink domes dotting the rocky path. No trees in sight or any sign of life. Only rocks and prisons.

"Well, let's get cracking," said Elizabeth.

The two witches hopped from dome to dome, chanting the curse, melting the walls, freeing the prisoners, teaching them the curse, and continuing. Before they knew it, the mountainside was swarming with poverty-stricken prisoners. All were in raggedy torn robes. All were smeared with dirt and scars that told stories of resistance and pain. But now was their chance to escape.

"Vere are we going?" Anna yelled to Elizabeth as they raced over the boulders. The mob of scrubby prisoners was close at their heels, having semi-consciously elected Anna and Elizabeth as the leaders.

"I don't know! You were the one who was awake on the way here!" Elizabeth called back.

"Just go with the flow!" a random voice called out. And that was how the commonly used phrase got started. Just go with the flow.

The mob ran downwards over the rocks. And ran. And ran. Elizabeth, who was leading the gang, could not see over the rocks in front of her, so she had no idea if there was a drop-off or army of OFER soldiers or a giant dragon waiting just over the next boulder.

They ran until they reached woods. They disappeared into the trees, weaving in and out of the numerous pines and oaks.

"It seems to me," Anna panted, coming up next to Elizabeth, "dat we are getting away vith this far too easily."

She spoke all too soon. For at that moment, they felt the world open beneath them. Elizabeth and Anna fell into an unseen hole. They screamed as they fell into the abyss below until they hit the ground with a thud. They looked up. The hole they had fallen into closed abruptly. They were in an underground chamber, with tall dirt walls lit by torches, and a high dirt ceiling overhead, in which the sounds of thousands of feet could be heard pounding on. They had fallen into the OFER World Headquarters.

"I suppose you thought that was terribly clever," came a voice.

Anna and Elizabeth jumped to their feet at this statement. They looked around, and suddenly realized that a man was standing a few feet in front of them, his back turned, pouring himself a glass of wine.

"Who are you?" Elizabeth braved as Anna cowered behind her.

The man turned around, and Elizabeth gasped, stumbling backwards.

"I think the question is," he took a sip of wine, "who are you?"

He was Lord Moore, a member of the OFER closet. The Closet (similar to the US Cabinet), was a group of men and women held in high position in OFER. They helped lead the poverty holocaust and were advisors to the man in charge of the entire operation.

Lord Moore was a man around the age of sixty. He wore a black cloak and a maroon cape like all members of the Closet. A single spectacle shaded his right eye. His washed and combed hair was currently blond, though when it was dry it was surely the color of a dove's wing.

"Now," he said calmly, "tell me what in the name of Mephastopheles convinced you that you could get away with a jailbreak?"

Elizabeth took a breath and stepped forward. "Well, we got away with it, didn't we?"

Moore, who had been sipping at a glass of wine, gave a choking noise. Elizabeth smiled inwardly. He swallowed, coughed, and cleared his throat.

When he spoke, his voice was at first raspy. "Yes, I'd expect--" he cleared his throat again. "I'd expect a low-born, dirt-breathing, mudblood like yourself to actually believe she could beat out the OFER."

Elizabeth's hand plunged into her pocket for her wand. Remembering it wasn't there, she rounded on Anna.

"Give me your wand!" Elizabeth screamed.

Anna meekly mumbled, "I left it at home."

Lord Moore cackled. "You dirt-breather! Don't you realize that even if you had a wand, you're no match against me?"

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "What are you planning on doing to us?" Her voice showed no hint of pleading.

Lord Moore opened his mouth, but was suddenly cut off as the double oak doors at the opposite end of the chamber burst open.

"Lord Moore, Lord Moore!"

A tall, carrot-topped boy of about the age eighteen came stumbling in, panting.

"What is it, boy?" demanded the lord.

The boy slouched over to the table where Moore had poured himself his wine. His bony knuckles turned white as they gripped the edge. He was panting too hard to reply.

"Speak, boy!"

"My--" he breathed deeply, "my father--Lord Fiedler, he sent for your-- urgent--go to meet him at once."

The fact that this was the son of one of the lord's most trusted partners seemed to not matter to him at the moment.

"Guards!" Lord Moore clapped his hands and immediately, two bulky men ambled in.

"Take these two dirt-breathers to the prisons. Not the metamorphane ones."

With no further command, Lord Moore briskly left the room, bumping into the table in his hurry.

The massive guards obediently seized Anna and Elizabeth and marched them out of the room. The red-haired boy's eyes followed them as they left. Elizabeth glared back at him. There was something about that boy that didn't seem right. The thought fled her mind as she was shoved out of the chamber and down a flight of dark, wet stone stairs.

After walking through a slimy puddle in the dark for a long enough time that Anna almost passed out, they stopped. They heard a jangle of keys and the hideous screech of rusted iron. The two girls were shoved forward and a door was slammed behind them.

Elizabeth breathed into a puddle of slimy water, and listened to the footsteps die away. When she could no longer feel the stone floor shake under their massive feet, she jumped up and ran blindly forward, slamming into metal bars.

"Ow!" she rubbed her forehead with soiled fingers.

"Are you alvight?"

"Who's there?"

"Who said that?"

"You tell me who you are first."

"Vat is going on?" Anna screamed.

"There's someone else in here," Elizabeth said quietly. She slowly walked around the cell. She yelled as menacingly as she could, "Where are you?"

"In the corner."

Elizabeth stretched her arms in front of her and walked stiffly forward. She had heard once that if you lose one of your senses, your other senses become keener. Keeping this in mind, she shut her eyes (for it was pitch black, and her eyesight was useless anyway).

"You're going in the wrong direction," the voice nagged.

"You can't see me," Elizabeth challenged the person's superiority.

"Of course I cannot."

"Then why -- how can you -- ugh!" Elizabeth threw her arms into the air and sank to the floor. She sat cross-legged, her elbow propped on her knee, her hand covering her face. Her fingers pressed circles on her temples, drummed her eyelids, and pressed the tip of her nose.

When she had finished massaging her face, Elizabeth asked softly, "Who are you?"

"Why don't you both gather around," the voice suggested. "If you, on the floor, would crawl forward five paces, and you, by the door, would take three steps this way, you will both be in front of me."

Marveling at the stranger's intelligence, they both obeyed.

"Now," (the person had been right, for their voice now seemed closer), "do either of you have anything made from an animal? Leather, fur, hide?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to say no, but Anna spoke up.

"Yes, dis string--" there came a sound of string being pulled through holes -- "vrom my vest. Made of niffler hide. Here."

The stranger muttered something, and a moment later the string in the person's hand illuminated. Elizabeth and Anna shielded their eyes from the electric blue rays of light that shot from the string, which she (for the stranger was, after all, a woman) was now coiling into a cylindrical shape in her hand.

The sight of the woman made Elizabeth choke back a gasp, and made Anna almost faint. She looked old beyond old. She was an Ancient. Her sunken black eyes appeared to be holes in a heap of wrinkles. Her black rags had a slight shade of maroon in them, hinting that they may once have been expensive robes (for colored robes were indeed pricey).

It was Anna who at last spoke. "Who are you?"

"My name is Kiria Banks. I am in prison for being one of the political leaders that the OFER opposes."

"Political leader?" Elizabeth suddenly took interest, "I never heard of the leader Kiria Banks."

"I'd hope not," Miss Banks' black eyes sent chills over Elizabeth's body. There was something about them that was very moving, almost as if they had an untold story behind them.

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked, this time without doubt or sarcasm.

"My story," the Ancient croaked, "is quite a long one. I would like to also hear your stories."

"You first," Elizabeth responded. Though she felt somewhat respectful of this woman, Elizabeth did not drop her guard.

"Very well then." Miss Banks leaned back and closed her eyes. After a minute of utter silence, she at last spoke. "I suppose my story begins, and ends, with my obsession with power. At twenty, I had been fully educated by tutors hired by my wealthy parents. I was smarter at that age than most people in the world. I desired a job in the Ministry -- no, as the actual Minister. My parents were traditionalists, and so they at first opposed me getting a job rather than marrying. But they knew damn well how clever I was. Though they never admitted it, I was more intelligent than them. So they gave in and allowed me to take up a job.

"I started in the lowest position: Secretary of Experimental Charms. My job was to record all discovered spells, and not ask any questions. Secretly, I studied the workers of this department as they invented new spells. I learned how they did it, and I myself invented a number of them."

"Like what?" Elizabeth asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

Miss Banks took out her wand.

"How do you have your wand?!" exclaimed Elizabeth.

"I will get to that part," she said, for it was very much linked to a part of her story. She then said clearly, "Wingardium Leviosa!" and with a swish and flick of her wand, the coil of illuminated leather string lifted from her palm, and hovered in midair at eye level for a few seconds before falling back into her palm.

"Dat was amazing!" squealed Anna, who never ceased to be amazed by the world.

Miss Banks smiled and recoiled the string. "Now, to get back to my story.

"I quickly worked my way up the ladder. Pretty soon I was head of the Anti- Muggle Communications Department. My job was to make sure no muggle ever saw a messenger. If anyone did, squad was sent to perform a memory charm. It was quite annoying, and using wizards on broomsticks as messengers, I quickly realized, was very inconvenient. So I came up with a new system: owlery."

"Owl--what?" asked a confused Elizabeth.

"Owlery," The Ancient told her. "The use of owls to deliver messages."

"I never heard of such a thing!" cried Elizabeth.

"Ever wondered how the OFER has run this war without a single muggle knowing of it? They took my idea of using owls. Not one single message has fallen into muggle hands since it has been introduced. That was nineteen years ago."

Elizabeth was still skeptical, but she allowed the Ancient to continue.

"By this time, I was twenty-seven. I had been working in the Ministry for six years. Denamore Clarke was the Minister. All seemed to be going well. Clarke realized how witty I was, and he asked me to be his partner. I accepted at once. It was my life-long dream to be a Minister."

At this point, Elizabeth could no longer hold back. "You worked with Denamore Clarke? Inventing spells and using owls as messengers was hard enough to believe, but this is where I draw the line!"

"Actually," said Miss Banks, "I'm glad you don't believe me. No one was supposed to know about me. I was the advisor and partner of Denamore Clarke, which was strictly against the law. A woman being a Minister? It was simply out of the question. So it was kept a secret. The name Kiria Banks was never spoken on the lips of wizards outside the Ministry building. Only the Minister and a few held in high position knew. If anyone else found out, I would surely be hung."

She paused, as if expecting Elizabeth to question further. She did not.

"Now," the Ancient continued, "Denamore and I created an awesome partnership. We were unstoppable. We could always cook up a solution to any problem. Though it was a bit of a pain, him always attending meetings while I stayed locked in my room the whole time. Once again, I could not reveal myself. I found enough free time during his meetings that I even invented new technology. For instance, have either of you ever heard of a photogram?"

They shook their heads. She dug into her robes pocket and pulled out wrinkled bit of parchment. Holding it to the light of the tiny square of paper, Elizabeth and Anna could see a perfect picture -- not painted nor sketched -- but a perfect image of a young woman with dark bobbed hair and black eyes like a raven. The picture was black and white and the woman was moving.

"How extraordinary!" exclaimed Elizabeth, this time truly impressed.

"I'm glad you approve," smiled the old woman. It is a photogram of my younger self. I am twenty-nine in this photo. I invented a machine that could take the image of a person and put it on paper. I recorded how to make one and how it is used, in hopes that someday in the future someone would find those plans and make another photogram. For there was political turmoil arising in the British wizarding world. Throughout my life, I had always made the right decisions. But not then. When Denamore came to me asking if he should accept or reject the bill proposing to raise taxes and give money to the poor, I told him to approve it. It was a mistake which I regret to this day. The rich became angry and banded together to form the OFER. It did not take long to form. A year after the bill was passed, a group of once-close friends who had turned to the OFER stabbed Denamore on his way to work. It was chaos from there on in. The ministry gave in to the OFER. I was supposed to be killed. I don't know if it was the little chivalry they had left or their shear fear of me, but they did not kill me as they did my partner. Instead, they locked me in this dungeon and swore to make my life hell if I tried to escape. But they feared me, and I knew it. They did not even try to take my wand. That almost fourteen years ago."

Questions exploded in Elizabeth's head like fireworks. "But why -- how come --"

"Did you love Denamore Clarke?" interrupted Anna.

Miss Banks' eyes glistened in the blue light. "I did. We tried to hide our love from each other, for it would only interfere with our work. But it was too strong, even for me. We were in love long enough for me to bear him a child. I was so ashamed that I never told him. As soon as it was born, I stashed it away in an orphanage. I found out later that the orphanage had been sacked by the OFER."

"Wait a minute," Elizabeth said. "You said you were in here for fourteen years. You also said that nineteen years ago, you invented owlering, or whatever you call it. Then you claimed that you were twenty-seven when you invented it. So that would make you --"

"Fourty-six," replied the Ancient.

"Well, no offense meant, ma'am," Elizabeth said, "but you don't exactly look fourty-six."

"No offense taken. My experiences have aged me. Being hidden from the sun for more than a decade has caused serious health problems. My time in this life is almost over," she sighed and leaned back against the slimy wall. "I have forseen it."

"Elisabeth," Anna suddenly remembered, "vhat did dat man upstairs in de chamber call you?"

A shadow passed over Elizabeth's face. "He called me a dirt-breather and a mudlbood."

"Yes, vhat does dat mean?"

"A dirt-breather is a cruel name for us poor folk," Elizabeth spat. "'Cause to people like him, we eat, sleep, and breathe dirt. Hell, we are dirt. And as for a mudblood, that's a nasty term for muggle-born. Though I have no idea how he knew..." there was another curious pause, and then Elizabeth changed back to the topic. "Miss Banks, why haven't you escaped?"

"There is nothing for me out there. I have done my duties in life," she paused to consider. "And also I have another reason."

The two girls leaned in intently.

Miss Banks cleared her raspy throat. "For the first few months of imprisonment, I was considering escaping. Yet, a series of dreams prevented me. Now I take my dreams very seriously, mind you. Your mind would not work while its body sleeps for no good reason."

Anna asked, "Vhat vas in de dreams?"

"My dreams," she told them, "spoke of -- no, didn't speak, for there is no speaking in dreams. They projected my purpose in life. My role in this life will effect thousands in later years. As a wise man once said, 'What we do in this life echoes throughout eternity.' So here is my deal.

"In my dreams, I received images of two young woman. They were prophesized to come to me when it seemed all hope was lost. Under my instructions, they, along with two others their age, would bring an end to this war, and improve the lives of many more to come."

There was a silence upon which the weight of the heavens seemed to rest. Both young girls knew of who she spoke, yet her words left them speechless.

"Now," Miss Kiria Banks said at last, using a tone as if she had been waiting forever to say this, "here are the instructions:

"You are to sally northward through the woods with your two male companions. Of the following things, you will come to pass:

"One: a unicorn as solid as stone Two: a village in which all hope is lost And three: a spring that does nothing but moan

"Once you have passed these, you are near. You will enter a forest unlike any you have ever seen or dreamed of. Beware, for strange things lurk in that forest. Finally, you will find a lake. From that lake, protrudes a grassy hill. It is on that hill, nestled by the mountains, that you shall construct a refuge for young witches and wizards. It is there that you will educate underprivileged children, whose families are wanted by the OFER. It is there that a new wave of adults will be raised; all educated, all brilliant, and all understanding life and death. Education is our only weapon against the OFER. Use it wisely."

Elizabeth spoke. "But -- how can we -- impossible --"

Miss Banks held up a withered, trembling hand. When she spoke, her voice suddenly seemed to have been worn out from the commanding. It was now raspier and more difficult to hear than ever.

"Look," she whispered slowly, as if it was an effort. "Look in, pocket ..."

Her hand slid over her front pocket. Her eyelids closed heavily, and she slumped against the wall.

Anna and Elizabeth, despite all they had been through, were both terrified. Neither of them spoke for the longest time, nor attempted to retrieve whatever was in Miss Banks' pocket. They watched the blue rope of light slowly fade into darkness on the floor, as the warmth from the Ancient's hand could no longer keep it illuminated.

At long last, it was Anna who looked in her pocket. After fishing through it a with a bit of difficulty (for she did not want to touch the corpse), she found something.

"What is it?" Elizabeth queried, no longer able to keep her silence.

"I dont know." Anna said. "It feels like a bit of parchment."

"How big?"

"I can 'old it between my two fingers."

Elizabeth made a motion to grab it, but a sudden noise made her stop. It was the screeching of rusted iron, coming from the direction of the doorway.

The girls simultaneously turned toward the noise, suddenly fearful.

"Anybody here?" a young man's voice whispered after a long silence.

No answer.

"It's OK," said the voice. "I've er -- I'm here t-to rescue you."

"Who are you?" Elizabeth braved.

"I'm -- well, it doesn't matter now." the boy's voice sounded nervous. "I've got to get you out of here before the guards wake. I only knocked them out temporarily."

Anna started to stand, but Elizabeth pulled her back down. "We're not coming unless you reveal yourself!"

"Fine." he boy muttered a spell, and the tip of his wand lit up. Holding it up, they could see a thin, pale face of an older teenager rimmed with orange hair.

"Why you're the messenger boy!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "The one who interrupted Lord Moore back upstairs!"

He nodded. "Yes, but don't get me wrong. I'm on your side. I hate the OFER. But there's not time for that. Come now, I know a secret passage out of here."brbrAnd so they obeyed. The two girls followed the young man's wandlight. They followed him through tunnel after tunnel, narrow passage after narrow passage, until they crawled out of the end of a tunnel and found themselves in the woods, just outside the OFER Headquarters where they had just been.

Crouching in the rhododendron bush, Elizabeth seized the boy's wand and turned it on him.

"Hey!" he cried.

"Now tell us exactly who you are and what you're doing here." Elizabeth pointed his wand in between the poor boy's eyes.

"I -- I --"

"Speak, boy!" she yelled recklessly, pushing the wand ever closer to its owner.

It was not the first time that day someone had said that to him, he recalled. Back in the chamber, Lord Moore had barked the same command to him. It was time he stopped being a stuttering fool. If he wanted to make it in this rebel's life he had chosen, he would have to be confident.

"I'm Erich Feidler," he said slowly, not taking his eyes off hers. "My father is Lord Feidler, a member of the OFER Closet. Don't get me wrong, now, for I am no OFER member. I ran away from home to work in a portal just like you two. When I reached the portal, it was empty. I knew immediately that the OFER had found it not long ago. So I flew here, in hopes of rescuing people. As I flew over, I saw below me a mob of prisoners running free. I flew down closer, and just as I did, I saw a hole in the ground open up, and you two fall into it. I knew what I had to do. I pretended to have an urgent message for Lord Moore to meet my father. So I worked my way past a series of guards to his chamber. The plan worked. On his way out, he bumped into the table, and the keys fell from his pocket. I knocked out the guards -- it was not hard, for both of them are dumb as rocks -- and rescued you. So I wouldn't be pointing my wand at me, after I saved your sorry behind."

Elizabeth withdrew coldly. Erich cleared his throat, and she shoved his wand back into his hands.

"Well now that I've told you my story," Erich said, "You tell me yours."

Elizabeth explained how she had been working in a portal, and the other night Anna had shown up just before the OFER found them, and then they led a jailbreak only to be put back in jail, and then were rescued by Erich. She mentioned nothing of Kiria Banks.

"Oh Elisabeth," Anna added, "you forgot to tell 'im about Miss Banks."

Elizabeth almost slapped her. Erich, suddenly noticing Anna, was taken aback by her figure. Like Elizabeth, she was short and thin. Yet unlike the black-haired Elizabeth, she had wavy blond hair like he had never seen, and a few specks of freckles upon her nose.

"Miss Banks," Elizabeth explained in an irritated tone, "was in the prison with us. She was a leading political member who opposed the OFER, and therefore got put in jail. She talked to us for a while, I suppose just to hear her voice, for she died a few moments before you came."

"But Elisabeth, she wasn't--" Anna started. Elizabeth elbowed her painfully as her more forceful way of telling her 'shut up we'll discuss it later.'

"Oh no!" Elizabeth suddenly remembered. "Thomas!"

"Thomas?" queried Erich.

"Thomas!" yelled Anna, suddenly cottoning on.

"Oh dear, oh dear," Elizabeth shook her head, "I wonder where he could be! I completely forgot about him in all the excitement! I hope the OFER hasn't done anything to him yet. He hasn't got a wand or any money, after all."

"Who is Thomas?" Erich asked plainly.

"He was working with us in the portal!" Elizabeth cried exasperatedly. "And he's still in prison, I bet. After all, we only freed our section of prison, which was the girls' section. Unless they mistakenly put him there, for he did have rather long hair ... but oh! We must find him!"

"Well, I know where the mens' prisons are," Erich offered.

"Where?!" Elizabeth demanded.

"On the other side of the mountain," Erich hastily added, "but we'd have to climb a whole bunch a' boulders to get there -- real dangerous. And I left my broom at the entrance to the Headquarters. I don't suppose I'll see that again."

"We can make it," Elizabeth decided. "We've got to. For Thomas."

"Yes," Anna agreed, mostly because she wanted to show that she cared about Thomas, too, "for Thomas."

Erich sighed. It was clear they would not let him retrieve his broom. "Well, follow me."

And so the trio slunk through the woods, all the way past and beyond the OFER building. As the ascent upwards increased, the trees thinned, and they found themselves standing at the bottom of a hill of massive boulders.

"It's just over these rocks," Erich assured them, trying to make it sound easy.

But it was not easy. For one, they were now in the wide open, visible to anyone from any given point. As if that was not pressure enough, one slip or miscalculated jump could send you toppling down the mountainside or sliding down a bottomless crag.

The thought of free falling for all eternity made Anna's head spin as she and the others climbed and leaped. The slight breeze made her sway, and she prayed through every jump that she would make it. She had never done anything like this before. Only twenty-four hours ago -- perhaps less -- she had been knitting in her rocking chair at home. Was she perhaps too hasty in deciding to leave home and find a better, more exciting life? And was this life even better? So far, certainly not. Would she ever see her family again? And what of the couple with the infant who had appeared in her fireplace? What would become of them?

The heavy pondering distracted Anna. She suddenly realized in mid-leap that she was three inches short of the boulder she was aiming for. Her arms scraped the side of the rocks as she reached for its top. She felt for a root, branch, crack -- anything! She screamed and cried for help as she slid down the side of the rock. She was a second away from free-falling, down that bottomless crag beneath her. Just one more second ...

Right when she thought it was over, she felt her arm being violently yanked. She opened her eyes and peered up. Grasping her arm with both hands, and almost sliding off the rock, was Erich.

He pulled her up (with the help of Elizabeth, who had been holding him by the ankles), and Anna threw her arms around him.

"You saved me! You saved me!"

Erich blushed, "It was nothing."

Elizabeth pulled Anna off of him.

"Anna! Are you OK?" she began dusting her off. "How bad are your injuries? Let me see your arm."

"Really, it is OK," Anna insisted, trying to appear brave. "Vee must carry on."

Erich and Elizabeth remained closer to Anna the rest of the way. When they finally jumped off their last boulder, they had reached the other side of the small mountain. They were standing on a grassy slope, dotted with pink domes. These were the metamorphane prisons, just like the ones Anna and Elizabeth were in originally.

"What's the spell to melt metamorphane, again?" Elizabeth allowed herself to ask Anna.

"Err--"

"Lorisakius, that's it," Elizabeth remembered. She explained what to do to Erich. "Now remember, we're looking for Thomas. Of course we're going to try and free everybody, but if you find Thomas--"

"What does he look like?" asked Erich.

Elizabeth strained her weary mind to remember last night in the burrow. "He's tall, broad-shouldered, shoulder-length golden hair. He should be fairly recognizable."

And so they carried out the second (third, if you count how Erich freed Anna and Elizabeth from the dungeon) jailbreak of the day. It did certainly seem suspicious to them how they were getting away with this so easily, but it made perfect sense when you considered the fact that every guard, officer, and soldier was probably still chasing the refugees from the last jailbreak. And this was no time to think of that, anyway. The moutainside became quickly swollen with dirty, smelly men in a very short amount of time. They seemed to know what to do better than the last mob of prisoners. They immediately dispersed in every direction, causing utmost havoc.

It was Elizabeth who found Thomas. Or rather, Thomas who found Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth!" a voice boomed through the frenzy of prisoners.

Elizabeth turned toward the voice, but Thomas was nowhere to be seen.

"Right here!" he pushed his way over to her.

"Thomas!" Elizabeth was shocked. He looked so different! In only a few hours, his hair had been chopped down (though not shaven) to normal length. His usual tangle of hair had been cut down to a golden-brown mop.

"You like it?" he smiled a much welcomed smile and ran his hand through one side of his hair. "Someone happened to have a dagger with them. They said that my hair was disgusting, and without even asking me they chopped it off. Good thing, too. I was getting annoyed at it, myself."

"Thomas," Elizabeth breathed, very much relieved, "we've got to get out of here."

"Is dat Thomas?" Anna appeared behind Elizabeth, closely flanked by the orange-haired Erich.

"Indeed it is, my fair lady," Thomas took her hand and kissed it. Anna blushed and giggled. Erich's pale cheeks flamed with jealousy.

"Come on, now," Elizabeth interrupted Thomas's relieving act, "this is no time for a tea party. We've got to get out of here."

"Oh Elizabeth," Thomas shook his head. "Do calm down. We're free. See? What's the rush to leave?"

Steam issued from Elizabeth's ears. "Do you want us to be caught or not?!"

"You know," Erich said, rivaling Thomas in trying to impress Anna with his cool-as-ice attitude, "you worry too much. Perhaps if we just--"

"Perhaps if we just chat idly while the OFER catches up to us then things will be alright?" Elizabeth started to back Erich up. "Oh well then, let's all follow Erich's plan, shall we? How about we all sit right here on the moutainside and wait to be caught again," she sat down. "Come on Erich, sit down. It's what you wanted."

If Anna had not been watching Erich, he would have slapped her across the face. Instead, he whipped out his wand and pointed it at her face. "I'm warning you. If you don't cut it with the sarcasm and nastiness, then --"

"Aww, forget it, guys," Thomas waved his hand. "Let's just get outta here."

Thomas had a way of having people like him. It could be his honesty, or perhaps his habit of keeping his cool in tough situations. Whatever it was, no one hesitated in following him back down the mountain and into the woods. Erich and Elizabeth kept shooting each other poisonous glares and 'accidentally' tripping each other. Erich only stopped being nasty when he realized Anna was walking ahead with Thomas. He decided that the best way to get her attention would be to cut it with his immature acts. Like Thomas.

While the prisoners spontaneously ran by them in varied directions, the four heroes trudged slowly northward, not speaking, nor really knowing where they were going. They only stopped when the sun set. They constructed a primitive fire (for Erich was the only one with a wand and he was not in a very good mood), and huddled around it.

"Now," Thomas said, "I only know some of you, and not as well as I'd like to. We should each tell eachother who we are and how we got here. And if anyone has any plans for what we do next, since it's obvious that we're going to be sticking together for a while."

Thomas started. Apparently, his parents had been killed by the OFER when he was little. He was raised on the streets as an orphan. At age twelve, the OFER had raided his neighborhood and he was imprisoned. Somehow, he had managed to escape. He was only eighteen now, though he looked like he was in his early twenties. He volunteered to work at the portal as soon as he was mature enough to.

As for Erich, he was the son of Lord Feidler, a member of the OFER as well as one of the richest lords in the country. He simply objected to the ideas the OFER was based on. And that's what had brought him here.

Elizabeth spoke on behalf of Anna and herself (Anna did not have much to say about her life, anyhow). This time when she told their story, she included the part about Miss Banks and everything she had told them. She told them about the queer instructions she had given them; the unicorn as hard as stone, the village with no hope, and the moaning spring. The group listened intently, taking it all in. They knew that Elizabeth was too serious to be making this up. When she had finished, she turned to Anna.

"Anna, do you still have that bit of parchment you got from Miss Banks' pocket?"

Anna gasped, suddenly remembering it. She fished it out of her own pocket, and presented it to Elizabeth. She studied it in the firelight. It seemed to be a beat-up, palm-sized book. She opened its tiny pages and saw very delicate handwriting, speaking of spells and inventions. Hundreds of tiny pages were filled with words.

"Why," she said, "it's a book of all the spells and technology Miss Banks invented."

She flipped to the end of the book. In the last few pages, there was an exact copy of the instructions Miss Banks had given her earlier. The last line read, This is your tool. Use it wisely.

"Guys," Elizabeth said, "this is it. This is everything we need. Here are the instructions and everything. Do you know what this means?"

They all knew what it meant. It was just too large of a task to speak of at the moment.

"Well," Thomas leaned back, "it seems we've got our work cut out for us."

The four stared at each other excitedly. This was for real. They were going to make a difference. A big difference. This was going to be hard. It was going to be exciting. It was going to be dangerous. It was exactly what they had each been looking for.

"Don't you think," Erich suggested, "now that we're starting new lives and embarking on a new adventure, that we should have new names? Not to mention our faces are going to be posted all over the country by this time tomorrow."

"Clever idea," Thomas remarked. "Though I have a terrible time with names. So let's make them easy to remember by having the first letter of our first name match the first letter of our last name."

"I'm Helga!" Anna decided at once.

Erich did not think much of this name, yet he smiled approvingly at her.

"Helga what?" he asked.

"Hogheinamenarison." It was the only last name beginning with 'H' that she knew.

"Er -- english please?" Erich asked.

"Oh jeez, I do not know any."

"How about Harrington?" Erich offered hopefully.

She wrinkled her nose. "Too hard to remember."

"Oh, and Hoghamenama-whatever isn't?" Thomas laughed.

"How about Hufflepuff," Elizabeth offered.

" 'ufflepuff?" she giggled. "It is silly. I like it. Helga Hufflepuff."

"I'm God. God Gryffin," said Thomas.

"You wish," snorted Elizabeth.

"OK fine," Thomas considered. "Godric Gryffindor. How's that, eh?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "Well, better than God Gryffin. How about you, Erich?"

"Oh I dunno." normally he had an overly active imagination that came quite handy in deceiving people, but he was quite stumped at the moment. He wanted a powerful name, like Godric Gryffindor. One that would impress Anna.

"Well as for me," Elizabeth said, "I don't know about my first name, but Ravenclaw definitely for the last."

"Why definitely?" asked Anna.

"I have my reasons," she left it at that.

"Well how about Rowena," offered Godric. "Rowena Ravenclaw."

Elizabeth shrugged. "Sure. I'm bound to forget it anyway."

Godric turned to Erich. "OK, Erich, that leaves you. If you can't think of one, I'm sure we can cook one up for you."

"No, thanks," he said. "Plus, I think I got one. How does Salazar Slytherin sound to you?"

"Like your parents are grave-diggers," snorted Godric. "But if that's what you choose, then it's OK by me.

"So it is here and now," Godric Gryffindor spoke, "That Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin embark on a new journey. One that will not be easy nor even fun, but holds promise to the future of the wizarding world and mankind altogether."

~*~

Author's Note:

THIS STORY IS A WORK IN PROGRESS! Not to worry, this isn't all of it! There is more still to come. This chapter was incredibly difficult to write. For one, I started it around May 2002 and went away for two months during the summer. I picked it up again a few months ago (it is December 26, 2002). Then for some reason everything from when Elizabeth introduces herself to Thomas up to when Anna falls off the rock got deleted. Luckily, Alyssa had printed out the story a week before. Her story included everything up to when Elizabeth and Anna were put in the dungeon. So I had to re-write the conversation with Miss Banks entirely. In fact, I at first forgot her original name so I called her Miss Banks. I later realized it was Miss Featherly, but decided that Miss Banks was more suitable.

All my thanks in this chapter go to Alyssa, who saved me from going insane. Thanks for printing out the story and re-typing so much of it. I don't know what I'd do if your eyes could stand to read the story on the computer.

Oh yes, I would like to tell ya'll that I am aware of the anachronisms I used in this story (for those who don't know what that is, it is something used in the wrong time period). I know that no one in the Middle Ages (or at least I hope) said "whatever" or "jeez." I've modernized it, let's just say, so it's easier to understand.

The chapters to come will hopefully be shorter. This story is not easy to write, so I'd like some input on it. I'd highly appreciate it if you wrote a review by clicking the icon below.

Much love and thanks!

~*Luna*~

P.S. If you're interested in helping out with soon-to-come chapters, e-mail me at luna@wandlight.zzn.com