Ravenclaw at the Writing Desk
The air was still. In the high atmosphere a soft rush of feathers stirred that air as a large eagle flew north. The bronze primary feathers, dark blue down and ebony talons were markings never before seen on an eagle, until the appearance of this bird. She was particularly unique.
Far below her the castle came into view. The construction of a Quidditch pitch stirred in her feathered breast a feeling of vexation. Perhaps it was inevitable. Ah well, let the boys have their game; in the end it caused no harm. Beating her wings a few time, the majestic raptor guided herself towards the newly founded school. A slight adjustment of a tail feather here and there kept her easily on course. When she could see her specific destination, she dove.
The eagle screamed, as only a raptor on a cold morning could, in pure exultation of the dive, an experience like no other. After several moments, as the dark stone castle quickly grew larger, she unfurled her wings and manipulated the feathers, smoothly coming out of the dive and landing on a broad sturdily constructed platform outside her window. Hoping from there to the floor, she concentrated a bit and returned to her human form. She was a tall woman, with dark hair, green eyes, and pale skin. Taking the deep purple robe from the hook by the window, she wrapped it about herself and tied it off.
A light knocking at the door took the woman's attention and with a word of power and a gesture, she opened it. A small person, not human, with large floppy ears, a small upturned nose, and large green eyes, entered the room bearing a tray of food and a bottle of wine. He was dressed in the way of their kind, in a stark white pillow case, the school coat of arms embroidered on its left breast. Peculiar creatures, house elves, and this one, Leban, seemed to have taken a liking to her, seemed to think that she needed someone to look out for her. Well, it was certainly useful, if nothing else.
"Good morning, Mistress Ravenclaw," Leban squeaked merrily as he set about preparing her breakfast for her. "Did you enjoy your flying mistress?"
Ravenclaw. That's what they called her now. It used to be Rowena Ravenhair, before she'd become animagus. The new name suited her she thought. "Yes, Leban, thank you."
Rowena smiled at Leban. Truth be told, she had taken a liking to the elf as well. His simple reasoning to life in general was refreshing when she found herself overanalyzing things with her much vaunted logic. That's not to say that he was simpleminded, he just looked at things in a very simple manner, said it made more sense that way. Well, Rowena was first to admit that logic couldn't solve everything, but that was simply too far. And just far enough. It was the opposing outlooks that could be so easily shared without any sort of ridiculous shouting that debates all too often turned in to that Rowena found charming in the little elf. Their differences had created a friendship.
"Will you be needing anything more, mistress?" Sometimes Leban and Rowena would sit and talk about all manner of things in the morning before the wizard went to attend to her students, but on this morn, the founder of House Ravenclaw had something on her mind.
"No, nothing more this morning."
Leban smiled again and bowed and left the room.
Rowena put some cheese and thinly sliced meat between a couple of crackers from the tray Leban had brought and set it all on a small plate. Then she poured the dark red wine into the crystal glass and took it all over to her writing desk. It was a simple plain of wood with an ink well and simple feather quill, made from one of her own primary feathers, set upon it. From a drawer beneath the writing surface, Rowena retrieved a small leather bound book and opened it revealing blank pages. Taping the pages with her wand, the book automatically turned to the correct page. Then she began to write.
In the months since Salazar left the school, even leaving his students behind, I have been contemplating the future of our kind. Godric believes that we will be able to harmoniously coexist with the muggle folk. Unfortunately I see this as quite naive. It's not that I'm a cynic, simply a horribly disappointed romantic. I want to believe Godric's ideals, but I simply cannot. Not after what I've seen. Perhaps in a time long from now we will be able to live without fear of persecution for an accident of birth.
Perhaps.
Roweena sipped at her spiced wine and licked a few of the crumbs from her fingers. In the company of others she would never have licked her fingers, but here in her private chambers she allowed herself the deviation from decorum.
Rowena picked up another slice of cheese and ate it before continuing.
And at the other extreme is Salazar. He hates muggles and even muggle born wizards. Godric, accepting students born of muggle parents was the last straw for our old friend. Now that he is gone, there are rumors floating among the students questioning Salazar's motives and morality. Some are even saying that he has hidden a monster serpent within the halls of the school. Neither Godric, Helga, nor myself believes this of course. Salazar would sooner renounce his magic than harm this school.
As for myself, I am of a middling ground, as I often am. A compromise between Godric's idealism and Salazar's conservatism. I believe that we will continue to live in secrecy but that we will have nothing to fear from the muggle world or muggle born wizards
Rowena looked over what she had written and sighed. Writing her thoughts as they came wasn't always the most eloquent, but it often helped to organize them and sometimes provided an answer. But not today. These thoughts would continue to chase themselves about her mind for some time to come, she was certain. Would Salazar's fear be proven correct, or would Godric's hopes be validated? Or perhaps her own prediction on the matter would come about.
The words faded from the page and Rowena closed the book.
It was time to prepare for class. No matter the outcome of the future, one must deal with the present. There was a school to run and students to teach. And there was so much to teach. As the black haired woman dressed and left her tower to see to her students, a sudden small smile began to play upon her lips. Almost as though she now had an answer to a vexing riddle.
Not just magic, she thought, but the reasons for the persecution of our kind and how to avoid similar outlooks in the future.
"There is so much to teach, and I will teach it."