The tittle of the collection is a Quidditch term explained in 'Quidditch through the ages' : "This seemingly careless Seeker move is named for the fastest Snitch catch in British history, Roderick Plumpton's capture of the Snitch up his sleeve in 1921"

My prompts for the first round were: Founders era, glass, tempted and scar. For the Puddlemere team.

Thank you to the amazing Schermionie for her precious help and encouragement with the fic.

Thank you to the lovely on rooftops for her amazing betareading work.

NB: This is a sequel to my fic 'the wind blows'(my audition piece), but can be read as a stand alone.

The title for this specific entry is inspired by the poem 'The Sunlight on the Garden' by Louis MacNeice

Enjoy & Review please!

freedom advances, towards its end

Rowena lands on the floor to the sound of shattering glass. The room is the same as the one she has just left, but the lighting has changed, the year too. Her study is darker in her time, with only some candles alight, but she can see the shadow of a tall man sitting on her sofa.

Her wand is at the ready in less than one second, but she is relieved to realize it's only Salazar. Her sudden appearance made him drop his wine glass, so a dark stain colours her carpet. She wonders what he could have been doing in her house on his own. Her books are about rhetoric - they aren't practical enough for him and she can't see any other reason why he would be here alone. He rarely visits her or Helga. Godric is the one with the privilege of Salazar's time outside his study.

"You've been missing for six days, Rowena." Her friend's voice bounces in her head, and she feels a little dizzy; she has just travelled hundreds of years in time, but she doesn't want him to know.

"I had things to do." Her voice is as cold as ice. She turns her back to him, straightens her spine.

She doesn't explain more and starts busying herself in the room as she would do after a regular trip. Salazar must not know. He isn't wise enough.

Rowena is tempted to tell him about her exploit, about meeting her descendant and travelling in time, but she knows she can't. She is intelligent enough to be his friend and not his enemy, sensible enough not to trust him.

She is aware of the weight of the diadem on her head, the object that allowed her to travel in time, but acts as though it isn't important. Salazar's eyes are set on it; she can feel it. His mind is probably buzzing with questions, but he asks none. Rowena hopes it is relief tying his tongue, but she knows she is wrong. He is not the worrying kind of person - that would be sweet Helga.

Salazar is her friend, yes, he is Godric and Helga's friend too, but they all know he is not like them. He wants knowledge and recognition and power, but not in that order. Power will always come first for him. People don't matter to him, not even his dearest Godric.

Her thoughts are cut off by Salazar's voice.

"I just want to remind you that tonight we must vote for the school name. Again."

"I won't follow your choice, Salazar; you very well know it." It's discriminating and inappropriate, but she doesn't say that out loud.

"One of us must be wise enough and stop voting for their own proposition though. And you're known to be the wiser one, Rowena."

"Flattery doesn't suit you. It must be a pain for you to admit it although it is the truth."

Salazar laughs before answering her, "Maybe, but at least battles of words don't scar."

He leaves with those words, and Rowena can imagine the burnt tissue of his arm. The fights, the experiments, the things Rowena and her friends try to forget, to overlook.

His experiments are more and more dangerous, and his ideas too. They can all see it, but they can't help but admire the wizard if not the man. They need him for the school, a greater good, and if they manage to have him understand their views, he might be one of the greatest wizards the world will have the chance to know. Rowena hopes they can change him even though her small glimpse of the future suggests they won't.