Hello Reader,
I will not lie; i've been very uninspired, and try as i may, my writings for my other stories wre just not satisfactory. I had to keep rewriting.
This little story popped into my head a few days ago, though, and I could not let it go.
Hope you enjoy this!
Feel free to leave comment, reviews, baby llamas.
Disclaimer: All characters stated in this story belong to JK Rowling.
She had wildflowers on her hair when he first met her.
Godric and his father had made plans to visit their land in Wales, and the former had insisted that he come. Although Salazar was usually the persuasive one, Godric had his own charm and means to bring people to do what he wanted. After much cajoling and rather false tantrums, Salazar found himself agreeing, and so here they were, making their way through one of the little towns in Wales.
Godric's father had given them permission to roam around and the two boys turned their horses towards a small dirt path that led to a hill. From a distance, Salazar could make out a small cottage and a farm, standing before the forest of tall trees.
"You'll find Helga quite amiable, Sal," Godric said, his voice clear with excitement. "She's the daughter of one of the farmers that look after our land. Quite a peculiar girl, she is. But amiable."
Salazar remained quiet. Godric's choice of friends no longer surprised him; although born into a noble family, Godric was never one to be picky with whom he befriended, and the Gryffindors did not seem to mind diverse companions. The Slytherins, however, were less open-minded. Salazar remembered being reprimanded as a little boy for conversing with one of the servant's sons; he was not punished for it, but he hid in his room, hands covering his ears in a vain attempt to drown out the other boy's cries as he was whipped for "speaking disrespectfully to the young lord". Salazar had been wary with whom he made acquaintances with then.
As they neared the top of the hill, a movement amongst the grass caught their attention. Godric and Salazar turned and was greeted with the sight of a girl laughing hysterically as she spun around, her arms outstretched beside her and her brown dress flowing along with her movements. She lost her footing and tumbled down the grass, but she did not cry out in pain. Instead, she laughed even harder. Salazar turned back towards Godric, who had gasped and was now grinning from ear to ear, looking very much like a fool. "We've found her," he exclaimed, recklessly jumping down his horse.
"What?" was all Salazar could say before he hurriedly got down his horse and chased after Godric, who was running like a mad man towards the girl in the grass.
"Helga!" Godric bellowed, cupping his hands around his mouth.
The girl in the grass sat up, her eyes big and excited as she looked around her. Upon seeing them, she broke into a huge smile, got up, and ran towards them, meeting them halfway. Godric held his arms out for her, and without another word, she jumped into his arms, giggling as Godric spun her around.
Salazar watched the exchange with deep fascination. He did not have a lot of female companions; he'd never even touched a girl's hand, and here was Godric, hugging this girl with the most brotherly of affections. It entranced him, how they both could be so open to each other. But then, being open was a problem only Salazar seemed to have, as Gordic was as open as a book and there was nothing about him that Salazar did not already know.
He was jolted away from his thoughts by Godric, who griped him by the shoulder and pulled him towards them. "Salazar, come meet Helga," Gordirc roared, pushing the helpless young Slytherin.
The girl, Helga, smiled, fixing her blue eyes to his green ones Salazar's fascination grew as he observed the girl up close. Her skin was freckled and slightly tanned, an indication that she spent most of her time outdoors; she had plump, blushing cheeks, smile creases at the side of her eyes, and leaves and wildflowers stuck on her braided hair. Salazar may not have met plenty of women in his young life, but he was sure that he had never seen a girl like the one before him now.
III
She had wildflowers in her hair when they met again.
It had been two years since they had first met, and Salazar, now at 18, looked every bit of the lord that he would later become. He did not call out to her when he first recognized her among the crowd. From what Godric had informed him days prior, she had just turned 16, and he could see her womanly features slowly forming. Her hips were wider, her chest slightly more defined, and her posture graceful, but still holding a subtle rascal air. Only when he was but a few feet away from her did he say her name, "Helga."
She jumped and turned around, a reaction he did not expect. For a moment, her eyes were round with alarm and fear, but upon seeing his familiar face, she relaxed and warmth filled her blue orbs. "Salazar!" she gasped, smiling.
"You seem surprised," Salazar mused.
"I am. What are you doing in this part of Wales?"
Salazar looked around before answering, "I am travelling with my family."
"And you left the pack just to greet me? That is terribly sweet of you, Salazar."
It was all he could do not to blush; instead, he looked away and cleared his throat. Friends they may be, but he did not have the closeness that she shared with Godric. Although, he could not deny that he wanted it as well.
Helga, sensing his unease, tugged slightly at his arm. She knew well that he did not want to be touched, and so, she retracted her hand quickly when he turned towards her.
"And what are you doing here, milady?" Salazar asked, trying to be friendly.
Helga's smile faltered for a bit – an action which did not go unnoticed. "I'm buying vegetables and meat. Times have been hard back in town."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"So am I," Helga replied grimly. "Not many traders have come since rumors of…" she did not finish her sentence and looked down.
Salazar, despite feeling bad for letting his curiosity overrule his sympathy for her discomfort, pressed her to finish. Sighing, Helga continued, "There have been rumors that witches are living in town."
Salazar steeled himself, keeping any emotions of shock from showing. He did not know, and Godric did not seem to think it important to inform him that Helga was a muggle. Because she and Godric were friends, Salazar had foolishly thought that she was a witch. Did she even know about him and Godric? Most probably not, considering the way she talked about witches. Panic, outrage and confusion coursed through Salazar, and when Helga looked up at him with fearful eyes, he took a step back.
This alarmed Helga. "Salazar, are you alright?"
"I have to go," Salazar replied curtly before turning around, not bothering to look back when she called his name. When he had walked some distance, he finally decided to peer over his shoulder, catching the last glimpse of her in the crowd, bright, red hair adorned with wildflowers. How could he have not known?
He wrote Godric a letter that night, reprimanding him for not telling him about Helga. Salazar received Godric's reply days later, saying that he did not deem it important whether Helga was a muggle or not. In his words, "Helga was a friend, and I only thought of sharing that friend with you, Salazar, seeing as you had so little."
Salazar had crumpled that letter and threw it in the fire. Even now, his friends were still few.
III
She had wild flowers in her hair the day they found out the truth.
They have been travelling for days, staying in odd towns, looking for someone. Someone special. Someone to complete them. There were three of them now – Godric, Salazar, and Rowena. Salazar would have been fine with three, but Godric and Rowena insisted that they find a fourth.
"I do not understand why, and it is completely irrational, but I have to insist that we look for one more," Rowena had shared with them before. "I feel like we need someone to round us off." Godric had agreed, and so they had set off to find the person to complete them.
They were somewhere near Wales when Godric heard news of a burning in the town where Helga lived.
"Helga?" Rowena asked, looking at Godric. It was Salazar who answered her query.
"She is a muggle friend of Godric's, whom he is fond of. For whatever reason that is, I cannot comprehend. "
Godric shot him a venomous look. "You thought so fondly of her once. Before you let your prejudice assumptions ruin your friendship with her."
Salazar scowled and looked away, angered by his guilt. Rowena, who always thought more practically than them, asked further. "Why are you so worried for her? Surely she must be safe from these burnings if she were a muggle."
Godric sighed heavily. "Before we set out, I received a letter from my father. He was worried. The townsfolk had burned a muggle family we knew well, over some rumors that they were performing acts of magic. There was no trial, Rowena. No need for proof. They were dragged from their houses and burned at the stake." Godric looked at Salazar, who, upon feeling his gaze, turned to look at him as well. "I told you once, Salazar, that she was a peculiar girl. I was not the only one who called her that."
Understanding dawned upon Rowena and Salazar's faces.
"If your friend's peculiarity becomes suspicious in the eyes of other people…" Rowena whispered.
"She could be branded a witch," Salazar finished. He met Godric's eyes and saw the rare glint of desperation. He was asking for help. Sighing, Salazar sat down, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We'll leave early in the morning."
Godric's eyes widened in surprise and glee. He took a step towards Salazar, but the latter stopped him with the raise of a hand. "But if we see that she is safe, we leave. We have no place for a muggle among us, Godric. You must understand that. We cannot bring her."
Early the next morning, they rode towards Wales, keeping a fast and steady pace. By the time they reached the town, chaos had already erupted. The three of them walked closely together through the streets, keeping a vigilant eye. Magic was undeniably more superior than any muggle weapon, but it was their sheer numbers that proved to be the downfall of every witch and wizard. If any of them were exposed right now, it would not take long before they, too, would be killed. They reached the town square, and they froze slack jawed. Right in the middle was a pyre made of wood and hay, the stench of oil wafting from it. A tall post was positioned in the center with a rope hanging loosely by its beam. Later, a witch would be tied with those ropes and hanged from that post, awaiting death by fire.
"How do we find this friend of yours, Godric?" Rowena asked nervously, eyes darting all around her. The people were starting to gather around the pyre, their voices getting louder and angrier.
Godric was about to answer when some part of the circle of people dispersed, making way for something approaching. All at once, the cries of the townsfolk rose tenfold, crying hateful and murderous things.
"Kill her!"
"Burn her!"
"Rip her limbs apart!"
"Scalp the demonic cunt!"
"Death to the spawn of the devil!"
"Death to the bitch!"
Their voices grew louder, and soon, they all chanted in unison. Their voices were terrifying to hear as they all cried in chorus for blood. A group of men came into view, grunting, heaving and laughing maniacally as they dragged someone on the ground. Rowena, unable to control her nervousness, stood on her toes and craned her neck. She gasped.
"What do you see?" Godric asked, eyes fearful.
"It is a woman," she whispered back.
The group of men were now close to the clearing near the pyre, and when Salazar saw the woman they were dragging, his breath caught in his throat and his head snapped towards Godric. His friend turned to him at just the same time. They knew the woman well.
She cried as they dragged her by the hair, caked with mud and dried blood. The wildflowers tangled in her hair were tainted with blood as well. They stood out, looking out of place in the horrifying, tortured visage of the young woman. Her clothes had been ripped, her shift dress exposing much of her skin to the ground. Her arms and legs were bleeding from cuts and scrapes. The men gave one last shove, and she was forcefully thrown against the pyre. It was only then that Salazar saw her face.
Helga almost looked unrecognizable. Her eyes were swollen and blood oozed from her nose and her lips, which was split from a blow. The townspeople were growing more aggressive, spitting at her and throwing foul fruits and vegetables her way.
Godric tensed and took a step forward. Had Rowena not pulled him back, he just might have successfully pulled his wand out.
"If you act now, she will die, and us along with her," Rowena warned, gripping Godric's arm tighter. "We must wait. No matter how hard, we must wait."
Godric gnashed his teeth, but he knew she was right. He bowed his head and looked away, not strong enough to see his friend tortured. Salazar, on the other hand, could not take his eyes off Helga. She was just a muggle, wasn't she? What could she have done to convince these people that she was a witch?
"Quite a peculiar girl, she is" Godric's voice echoed in his head. And suddenly, Salazar remembered her fearful eyes as she spoke to him of the rumors of witches in their town three years ago. He suddenly had the feeling that she was not in fear of witches, but for herself.
The townspeople were once again crying for blood, and three men came and dragged Helga up the pyre. She was too weak to fight back now, fading in and out of unconsciousness. They bound her wrist above her head, and when the rope was secured, they pulled at it, raising her up from the ground. Helga cried out at the pain, the ropes digging deeply into her wrists. Her suffering only caused the people to break out into cruel laughter and cheers.
"When, Rowena?" Salazar found himself asking.
"Not yet," Rowena answered, her voice shaking. She was visibly upset and moisture was in her eyes.
A man approached the pyre, his posture pompous and his face smug. Judging from the way he carried himself, Salazar assumed that he was a political figure in this town.
The man took a parchment from his coat and unrolled it. He raised it up to eye level and read aloud for everyone to hear. "Helga Hufflepuff, for crimes against this town and its people, you are hereby sentenced to die by fire for the practice of witchcraft and demonic magic." The man closed the parchment and grinned at Helga, who was barely conscious. "What say you, witch?" he asked, sneering.
The crowd fell silent for a moment, and Salazar felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand.
Helga let out a choking sob. "Please," was all she could say.
Pandemonium erupted once more as the mob shouted accusations and vile words at her. Smoke caught Salazar's eye, and when he turned, a man made his way through the crowd, carrying a torch. Godric saw it to.
"Rowena," he hissed.
Quick as always, Rowena pulled her hood down, her eyes never leaving Helga as she told them what to do. The man had thrown the torch to the pyre, and it immediately erupted into a blaze. The mob cheered as Helga screamed, and the witch and wizards hiding amongst the crowd pulled out their wands. Rowena and Godric pushed their way through the throngs of people, the former extinguishing the flames while the latter kept those who were quick to understand and act from getting near them. All at once, screams of panic and cries of outrage filled the air. Men came charging towards the pyre and it was all Godric could do to blast them away without killing them. Salazar had jumped on top of the pyre, not caring that Rowena had not completely extinguished the flames yet, and quickly scrambled to unbind Helga. When the ropes were loose, her limp body fell and slumped against him. He was just about to carry her down when an axe whizzed through the air and landed on the post, a few inches from Salazar's head. He growled as he turned, sending the attacker flying with a wave of his wand.
Rowena who was now helping Godric ward off the mob, shouted loud and clear, "APPARATE!"
Salazar nodded, holding Helga close. His last thought before disappearing was whether or not this woman was worth it. It took less than a second; he blinked, and his surroundings were now completely different. He had apparated to the forest where they had hidden their horses. Helga was still unconscious as he gently laid her down on the grass. A few minutes passed before a large gust of wind howled past him and when he turned, Godric and Rowena stood before him. Godric was bleeding from a gash on his forehead, but it appeared to be shallow. Rowena was gasping for breath, her cheeks dirty and her cloak gone.
"Is she alright?" Godric asked, striding towards Helga. When he touched her arm, her once limp body convulsed and she awoke, gasping for air. The other three jumped back in surprise.
"Helga?' Godric took her by the shoulders. "Helga, can you hear me?"
Helga nodded, her eyes wide and blank. She looked around her, her eyes darting from Godric, to Salazar, to Rowena. "Am I dead?"
"No," Godric answered, "but had we not gotten to you in time, you would have been."
Helga looked at him, her face crossing from confusion, to disbelief, and finally fear. When she couldn't take anymore, she crumbled and cried. "They found out," was all she could say between sobs.
Godric's eyes widened along with the others. So, she was a witch.
"Why did you not tell me?" Godric demanded.
Helga turned to him. "What would I have told you, Godric, without risking my family and myself being killed? How was I to know that we were the same? You kept it a secret as much as I did. Who could I have trusted?" she stopped to take in a deep breath and let it out in shuddering sobs. She pulled her legs closer and hugged her knees. "The friends I knew my whole life pulled me out from my home. My neighbors ransacked my house and killed my father. My brothers were tortured and killed; I could hear their anguished screams as the people I grew up with dragged me by the hair."
Rowena covered her hand with her mouth. Salazar, too, was utterly shaken.
Helga wailed as she continued, "Mr. Abbot beat me as he dragged me. He was the one who taught me how to count. Mrs. Barnes came out to spit at me and pulled at my clothes. She used to tell me stories about knights and sailors. By the gods, the man who set the pyre on fire was the same man who taught me how to ride a horse. He was a friend of my father's, long before I was even born." At this, Helga buried her face in her arms.
Godric did not stop his tears from falling. "Why did not tell me in our letters, Helga? I would not have told. I am your friend; I would not have told."
Helga slowly raised her head, and to Salazar's surprise, fixed her eyes on his. "You were my friend," Helga addressed him. "I tried to tell you. When we met again. You walked away from me."
Rowena and Godric turned towards him, and shame overwhelmed him. Salazar's hand trembled as he whispered, "I did not know."
III
She had wildflowers in her hair the day she joined them.
They stayed in one of the Gryffindor holdfasts in the province while Helga recovered. Salazar had kept to himself during those first few days despite of Godric and Rowena's reassurances that he was not at fault. Why did he not feel the same way? He kept remembering the way Helga looked three years ago; even in his dreams, her fearful blue eyes haunted him.
It came to a point that he could no longer bear it and he made his way to Helga's room. She was conversing with Rowena when he entered. Rowena seemed to have taken a quick liking to Helga and it was not long before they spent more time together. It only took one glance at Salazar for Rowena to understand that he wanted to talk with Helga, and so she excused herself from the room.
Helga smiled at Salazar as he approached her bed, much to his surprise.
"How are you, Salazar?'" she asked.
"I should be the one asking you that, Helga," Salazar replied, looking away from her.
"I am fine, thank you."
A heavy silence fell upon the room, neither of them knowing what to say. Finally, Salazar sighed and sat down on the chair where Rowena previously was. He asked without looking at her, "Has Godric told you?"
Helga kept her eyes on him. "Everything."
Salazar nodded. Another moment of silence. "How did you learn?"
Helga gave a snort, making Salazar's eyes flicker towards her. "On my own. It took a lot of errors before I managed to know how magic worked. Especially my potions."
"You handled potions by yourself?' he asked incredulously.
"Yes," Helga laughed. "I did stop for a while, after my goat died on one faulty potion. But the need for me to go on was there. My father was sick."
Salazar did not answer. Instead, he finally faced Helga, but said nothing. She reached out for his hand, her fingers brushing against his. "You do not have to be sorry," she whispered. "You did not know."
"I would have if I did not walk away," Salazar whispered back.
"You came back, did you not? Friendship is always tested, Salazar. And ours might be tested some more now that I shall be joining you."
Salazar smiled. "So you have decided."
"It is a beautiful dream. I would love to be a part of it in reality."
On her bedside table stood a vase of wildflowers. Salazar plucked two and gave one to her. Helga beamed and tucked it behind her ear. Salazar leaned forward and tucked his flower behind her other ear.
"I look silly, don't I?" she chuckled.
Salazar held her gaze before answering, "Not at all." In fact, he was sure that he had never seen a woman like her in his life.