Rowena perched on the edge of the bridge, one foot propped up, toes curling off the edge of the stonework. Dust clouded her clothes, dulling them from the deep blue they were, into a swirl of greys and brown. Her other foot dangled freely, hovering above the deep ravine, swinging slightly. Around her, stones lay shattered and smashed, proof of the battle that had just taken place. She stared straight ahead, gazing into the horizon, watching the sunset over the mountains. The chill in the air didn't seem to faze her, despite her bare arms, one of the sleeves of her dress ripped from shoulder to finger tip, the other, torn straight off. Rowena didn't dare to move, merely sat still until darkness shrouded the castle, enveloping it gently.
Once the moon reached its apex, Rowena finally broke her statuesque manner, and stood up. She walked along the bridge, headed towards the castle doors, and behind her the bridge rebuilt itself to its former glory. Stones rolled over each other, dust compacted into a solid shape, holes filled themselves. Rowena didn't glance back to check her work, merely waved a hand at the gaping wound in front of her, healing it without a second's thought.
Slowly, stone by stone, the castle rebuilt itself in her wake. It seemed to glow and stretch and bend behind her, before releasing a deep breath, and settling into its familiar form. Tiles flew up into the air, soaring higher - higher still - until they settled back into their home on the Ravenclaw tower. Sighing back into place, the tiles reformed their seals from dust, reinforced their wooden beams with magic.
Rowena continued to walk towards the castle, restoring it to its former glory, with barely a blink of an eyelid. Gaze fixed solidly on the castle in front of her, looking at the building but without truly seeing it, Rowena stepped calmly over the corpse in the courtyard. Tom Marvolo Riddle lay abandoned, his skin shifting from white to a light purplish blue, and entirely human. His limbs lay stiffened, contracted and immovable with rigor mortis. Death suited the would-be tyrant. Rowena did not even glance at the body, merely continued on her path.
She did not stop in her tracks until she reached the top of the owlery, and the magic halted in its tracks. Hogwarts was restored to its previous state, perhaps with a few more startled mice and swallows - and a very confused Argus Filch. It was here that she sat on the window sill, and stared across the lake. Waiting. Impatiently.
A fluttering announced the arrival of an owl behind Rowena. The bird hopped from foot to foot, and edged towards the woman, her position similar to how she had sat on the bridge. When she didn't move, the owl hopped on to her shoulder, and the letter whipped into Rowena's face. She sighed and took the letter from the owl. Ripping it open with an unexpected savagery, she glowered at the letter with a ferocity that burnt the letter into ashes that drifted out across the lake, landing lightly on the slight ripples that glanced towards the far shore. She lifted her chin and spoke to the thin air.
"Why don't you come find out, coward?" She spat. The swirl of robes did not cause her to turn her around, only to scoff to the lake again.
"I am no coward, Rowena," came the calm voice from behind her. Rowena deliberate refused to turn around, leaving him to suffer for a moment longer, before allowing her scorn to twist around with her own body. Standing, she crossed her arms across her chest in a defensive posture.
"Children died Sal," Rowena said flatly. Salazar Slytherin raised an eyebrow at the woman in front of him. Rowena glowered at him, and placed her hands on his chest, shoving him roughly. He stumbled back a few steps as she hissed. "Children are dead because you are a petty, lowly, coward who couldn't admit for a moment that he had made an error." Salazar recovered from his stumble backwards, smoothing out his suit with a defined downwards tug.
"I am not responsible for the actions of others." He spoke with a venom to match Rowena's own. He stepped around her, scorn rolling off him. When Rowena turned to confront him, he was gone. The muttered swear under breath was lost in the breeze.
Light glowed at the windows, seeping under the curtains of the small house, throwing soft tendrils of light out across the village green. The house was a beacon of warmth in an otherwise sleepy village. Rowena tripped in her step as she materialised on the grass, damp with dew. She hesitated as she reached the door of the small house, her curled fist, prepared for a knock, hanging on the air, frozen with a sudden doubt. Swallowing back her uncertainty, Rowena knocked on the wooden door. The pause between Rowena knocking and the door opening stretched for too long. Rowena fidgeted at the door way, twisting her fingers in her hand and brushing her hair back off her face every few seconds. The creak of a key in the lock came as a relief to Rowena's ears. The gradual opening of the door spreading light across Rowena's face causing her to squint. She peered through a slight slit in her shut eyes, and blinked as she saw the silhouette of an elderly woman in the doorway.
"Nina?" McGonagall asked, uncertainly. Rowena smiled at her friend, an unspeakable sadness rippling through her.
"Sorry to bother you so late," Rowena apologised. "Might I come in?"