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Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters, plots, and places from the Harry Potter world, which is trademarked by JK Rowling. However, this work is my own and is in no way endorsed by JK Rowling or anyone affiliated with the Harry Potter universe.
Chapter 1: Rowena Ravenclaw
It was a warm afternoon in the village of Torinshire, and the street was bustling with activity. Both men and women were out and about, visiting shops and greeting one another in the street. Children played, laughing and running through the village and everyone revelled in the passing of yet another winter to a promising spring.
On the outskirts of town, two women were slowly making their way back from a foray into the forest. Their baskets were filled with various medicinal herbs they'd spent the day picking, and the baskets were covered with a cloth. The truth was, the herbs they'd collected were more than simply medicinal, and they couldn't have their neighbors knowing what sorts of plants they'd been collecting all day.
I just don't know Helga," Rowena Ravenclaw sighed as the women approached the village. "All I know is that we can't hide out like this forever. How can our children learn and grow to their full potential when we only teach them in the dead of night or in the cellar where the Muggles can't see?"
"Has Helena been acting up again?" Helga Hunderswitch, Rowena's closest friend, asked.
"More and more each day," Rowena admitted. "She doesn't understand why we have to keep our magic a secret. She wasn't there the last time it got out of control. And since she can't share it with the world, she sees no reason to bother learning magic."
"Surely that can't be true!" Helga gasped. "Magic is a part of her, just as it is a part of each of us. It is what makes us special, unique."
"But think of how she sees it," Rowena pointed out. "If magic is the thing that makes her special, and then her father and I keep insisting she keep it a secret, how is she supposed to feel?"
"It was certainly very different when we were children," Helga agreed. "We may have been at war with the Muggles, but at least we weren't afraid of our neighbors finding out the truth every time we wanted to perform a simple levitation spell."
"I just wish there was a place we could go," Rowena said wistfully. "A place with no Muggles where our children could run free, practice duelling on a hilltop or even brew a potion in broad daylight. Think of the possibilities, Helga!"
"That sounds like a dream," Helga said. "But the Muggles are everywhere. All it can ever be is that: a dream. It does no good to dwell on dreams when we have a life to live."
"You're right," Rowena admitted. "Of course, you're right. Forgive me, I must return home. Rowland and Helena will be back soon and I wish for Helena to practice brewing a forgetfulness potion in the cellar before nightfall."
"Of course," Helga replied. "Herbert will be wondering where I've gotten to as well."
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"Now add the Lethe River Water," Rowena coached her daughter carefully. Only two drops of the water and the potion would be complete. Helena un-stoppered the vial and without thinking, poured the whole of the contents of the vial into the cauldron.
"Helena, what are you doing?" Rowena cried, drawing her wand just as the potion started frothing and bubbling violently.
"You instructed me to add the Lethe River Water," Helena said in her defence. "I added it."
"Yes, but not all of it!" Rowena exclaimed, as she cast spells at the now shaking cauldron to calm it down. "Lethe River Water is very potent. Weren't you listening when we went over the recipe yesterday? You only need two drops to make this potion."
"Well there's no harm done," Helena shrugged uncaringly.
"No harm done?" Rowena cried. "What if I hadn't been here? You haven't got a wand yet, how would you have stopped it from exploding, not just our house, but the entire block? Not to mention, you have just wasted an entire vial of Lethe River Water. Do you realize how much trouble I went to in order to find some? It's not every apothecary that's willing to sell potions ingredients to their patrons."
"Perhaps we ought not to have these lessons then," Helena said angrily. "Besides, there's no point. What possible use will I ever have for a forgetfulness potion?"
"I've used them on a number of occasions," Rowena replied, trying to be calm. "For example, if a Muggle were ever to catch you performing a spell, you could just feed him a forgetfulness potion, and he wouldn't remember a thing. The potion is much simpler than the memory charm, after all, and I've always favored it."
"Well then perhaps I ought not to practice magic at all!" Helena cried. "Then I'll have no need for a forgetfulness potion."
That said, Helena stomped up the stairs and up to her room. Rowena sighed, wishing there was something she could do or say to make her daughter understand. But she was just as frustrated as Helena was with the situation. Rowena decided to call it a night, and so she cleaned up the mess Helena had made and dragged herself up to her room, lying down next to her already sleeping husband, and slowly drifted off to sleep.
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The air was sweet and the wind blew Rowena's hair all around her as she breathed it in. She stood on a hillside, surrounded by beautiful green grass, overlooked by a brilliant sun beating down on the earth and warming it with its gentle rays. To her right lay a forest. The trees of the forest towered over the land, casting shadows on the forest floor. Rowena could barely see into the forest and she was sure it was home to many fascinating creatures.
Turning her head to her left, the landscape transitioned from a grassy hillside to a rocky mountain incline. It looked like it would be a steep climb, and what lay on the other side, Rowena couldn't guess. Ahead of her lay a slumbering village. Small buildings lined the main street, and small cottages lay scattered all around. As the village slowly began to wake up, the first of its citizens opening their doors and carrying buckets down the street to the village well in order to being home enough water for breakfast, Rowena found herself beginning to walk in its direction.
As she approached the road that would lead her down to the village, she found her path blocked by a strange creature. It was a hog, she deduced, but it wasn't like any hog she'd ever seen before. This hog was covered in warts, some so small they could have been pimples and some so big they could have been boils. Rowena froze, feeling the urge to scream and run from this hog, as it was the most repulsive thing she had ever encountered. However, she also felt a compulsion to stay put and to continue to watch the hog.
The hog stared at Rowena for some time before it turned and began to trot up the hillside. Unable to determine exactly what was compelling her to follow, and also unable to turn away, Rowena picked up her skirts and climbed the hillside in the hog's wake.
Where are you going? she wanted to ask, but no words could escape her lips.
As she and the hog came to the crest of the hill, the terrain levelled out and Rowena was stunned at the sight that beheld her. Stretching out on one side was a dazzling lake, the sun shimmering off its smooth surface. There was a disturbance from somewhere in the center of the lake, and then four lazy tentacles broke the surface and waved in the breeze for a moment before becoming once again submerged. On the other side was a huge grassy clearing, stretching out almost as far as Rowena could see.
All around, the forest stretched out, from far below in the left, around the back, and all the way to the right until it came to an end and the mountains began. Rowena stepped out into the middle of the clearing and spun in a slow circle, taking it all in. Its work done, the hog trotted away into the forest, Rowena no longer felt compelled to follow it. Slowly, she lay down in the grass and stared up at the sky, breathing in and out. The cool earth beneath her felt cool, and the sun that beat down on her warmed her to the tips of her toes.
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Rowena awoke with a start. Though she could clearly see that she was in her own bedroom in her own house, she could still feel remnants of the warmth of the sun on her face, could still smell the fresh grass and hear the soft wind rustling the trees. The dream had felt like more than a dream – it had felt real.
Rowena had never spent much time studying divination. Crystal balls were the sorts of things that drew too much attention from neighbors and the practice of palmistry required willing subjects, which there just weren't enough of in Rowena's Muggle-dominated village. Rowena knew there was a field of divination that concerned itself with prophetic dreams, but it had never been something that she'd pursued, so she didn't know much about the topic.
Looking to her side, Rowena thought about waking Rowland and asking him, but thought better of it. As was typical of springtime, almost half of the village had developed chronic sneezing and coughing – a reaction to the pollen and other airborne particles that had recently returned. As the village's only healer, Rowland had had a few extremely busy days prescribing various cures and remedies. It was a difficult job, and one Rowena feared may get Rowland into trouble one day. When Muggle remedies didn't work, Rowland would resort to magical remedies, pretending they were other than they were. If the Muggles were ever to find out that Rowland was using magic to cure them though, they would surely turn on the entire family.
With a sigh, Rowena sunk back down into her bed and closed her eyes, willing herself to go back to sleep. She would talk to Helga in the morning – perhaps she could help shed some light on Rowena's dream. If not, Rowena would simply have to hope that her dream had been simply that – a dream, and not a premonition of the future.
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"A hog covered in warts?" Helga asked in surprise.
As soon as Rowena had awoken the following morning, she'd hurried straight over to Helga's house in the hopes that her friend would have some answers.
"That's right," Rowena nodded, accepting the bread that Helga generously offered her for breakfast, since she'd left her house without even stopping to eat anything. "Do you have any idea what it could mean?"
"I'm not sure," Helga hesitated. "Prophetic dreams are certainly not my specialty. I do know of a seer who may be able to help though. She used to live in Hogsmeade village, not too far from here, though I haven't heard from her in some time."
"Do you think she could still be living there?" Rowena asked.
Helga shook her head. "I don't know. But if you think this dream is important, then I'll go to Hogsmeade with you and find out."
Rowena nodded. "Thank you Helga," she smiled. "Even if the dream meant nothing, I need to know for sure."
"We can leave immediately," Helga declared. "I know of a safe apparition point near Hogsmeade that we can travel to. If all goes well, we could be home by sundown."
"Are you sure?" Rowena asked, surprised at Helga's flexibility. "Don't you have things you need to take care of?"
Helga shook her head. "Herbert's working on a new project," she informed her friend. "He's locked himself up in the basement and says he won't come out until he's finished."
"He managed to find more kneazle whiskers?" Rowena inquired. Kneazles were becoming harder and harder to come by, which was making Herbert's profession more and more difficult. Without kneazle whiskers to provide magical energy, he'd been unable to create any wands for months.
"Actually, he's experimenting with kelpie hair," Helga revealed. "He thinks it could make a stronger wand core than the kneazle whiskers."
"Does he have a client in mind?" Rowena wondered. Normally wandmakers waited for express instructions from perspective clients before beginning the weeks-long process of fashioning a wand.
"No," Helga shook her head. "But with so many witches and wizards in hiding now, it's difficult to spread the word about where to find a good wandmaker. I – " Helga paused, unsure if she should continue.
"What is it?" Rowena asked. "You know you can tell me anything."
Helga hesitated. "I fear he's becoming obsessive," she confessed. "He barely eats or sleeps. The only thing he can think about is creating stronger wands in the hopes that it'll bring in more customers. When his plan doesn't succeed – which let's face it, it probably won't – he's going to be very upset."
"Things could still turn around for him," Rowena said positively. "You can't know what the future will hold. Maybe the kelpie hair will work after all."
Helga forced herself to smile, but Rowena could see right through it. "Sure," she said unconvincingly. "Maybe."
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After making her plans with Helga, Rowena headed home to put on her travelling clothes and to let Rowland and Helena know what her plans for the day were. When she arrived home, Rowland was with a patient, so Rowena decided not to disturb him, instead leaving a note for him, explaining where she was going without including any incriminating information. If the note were to get into the wrong hands, she wouldn't want the Muggles to figure out that they were a magical family.
Rowena found her daughter in her room, fixing her hair.
"Helena," she greeted her. "I'm glad I caught you before you left. I know you have plans with your friends today, but I need you to handle things here for me today while I go on a day trip with Helga. There are some herbs that need grinding and labelling, and the plants need to be tended to."
"No way, that's not fair!" Helena cried, spinning around in outrage. "Six days of the week, I let you keep me trapped in the basement, brewing potions I'll never use and learning about plants that we can never let be seen in public. Today is my day to just be myself, and not some witch that has to keep everything she does a secret."
"Helena, how many times to I have to explain it?" Rowena demanded tiredly. "Being a witch is who you are. No matter how much you want to pretend differently, you have magic in your blood. You'll never be a Muggle – your friends will never understand you the way your own kind do. I let you go down to the river with them once a week because I know it's difficult not having any other witches or wizards your age living in this village, but you can't forget that they would turn on you in a second if they knew who you truly are. And loyalty to your family must come first."
"What does it even matter if the plants aren't tended for a day?" Helena demanded. "Or if the potions ingredients aren't sorted until tomorrow? Why can't we both do what we wand?"
"Helena Ravenclaw, I am your mother, and I am telling you that you cannot go out with your friends today," Rowena said sternly. "When I return, I expect everything to be taken care of."
Helena crossed her arms and began to pout, but Rowena wasn't about to entertain her daughter's theatrics.
"You can be mad at me if you want, but one day you'll see that I'm right," she declared. "It's high time you leave your Muggle friends behind and start focusing on developing your magic. If only you would apply yourself, I might consider letting you acquire a wand."
"Whatever," Helena muttered. "I'll tend your precious plants. But you don't have to bother about the wand – I don't want one. It's just a piece of wood I'll have to spend my life hiding and never using. What's the point?"
Rowena shook her head, deciding to leave before she lost her patience with her daughter. Though she could see where Helena was coming from, she couldn't understand why her daughter was so against magic. Sure it was a challenge, always hiding from the Muggles, and it was difficult never being able to open up to anyone lest their secret be found out. But magic was Helena's birthright. She had so much potential, if only she would let herself discover it. She could become a healer, like Rowland, or she could train in the art of wandlore with Herbert. Or she could forge her own path in any number of magical fields, if only she would explore them. Rowena only wanted the best for her daughter. She wanted more for Helena than a job as a seamstress or a washer-woman. But Helena was so intent on living with the Muggles that Rowena feared she would lose her daughter completely.
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Rowena and Helga met on the outskirts of town and carefully made their way into the forest, putting enough distance between themselves and the village that nobody would see them when they disapparated. It was a risky thing, travelling via apparition when there was no guarantee a Muggle wouldn't be waiting on the other side. But Helga insisted that she knew of a place near Hogsmeade where no Muggle would catch sight of them materializing out of thin air, and Rowena trusted her friend not to get them caught.
When they reached the outskirts of Hogsmeade, Helga led the way down to the village while Rowena followed, taking in her surroundings for the first time. Though Helga had been to Hogsmeade many times before, it was Rowena's first time. The village had always intrigued her though, as it was rumoured to be one of the most heavily populated wizarding communities. While Torinshire housed only two magical families that Rowena knew of, her own and Helga's, Hogsmeade was said to house at least ten magical families amongst the dozens of Muggle families.
As the women came closer to the village though, Rowena started to get a strong sense of déjà vu. She was sure she'd never been to Hogsmeade before, and yet the village was oddly familiar. She glanced around, noticing the rocky cliff face to her left. She looked back down at the village, recognizing some of the more prominent buildings and suddenly she knew what she was looking at. It was the village from her dream.
"Helga, wait!" Rowena called for her friend to stop. Helga turned around, a puzzled expression on her face.
"What is it, Rowena?" she asked.
"This is it," Rowena revealed. "This is the village from my dream."
"The clearing?" Helga wondered, referring to the open grassy area the hog had led Rowena to in the dream.
Rowena looked around, trying to find her bearings. She found the road that she'd been walking on when the hog had intercepted her path and saw how it winded up a hill and disappeared.
"This way," she said, changing directions and leading Helga up the hill. Perhaps if she could find the clearing herself, she wouldn't need a seer to interpret her dream.
It took much longer to climb the hill in real life as it did in Rowena's dream, but soon they had reached the top. It was just as Rowena remembered it. The shining lake, the soft wind, the dense forest surrounding the flat, grassy meadow.
And then Rowena saw it. The picture began to form in her mind and she recalled a part of her dream that she'd forgotten that morning when she'd woken up. A huge castle, towering taller than the trees -four towers, pointing to the cardinal directions and harnessing the power of the elements. A haven; a place where her daughter could roam free without the fear of being found out. A place where witches and wizards could come together, to learn, to practice magic, to form a community.
"Helga," Rowena said, turning to her friend. "I know what my dream was about."