It was the longest journey I was ever to take by foot, made in the days before the use of apparition over distances was discovered. But as one grows older, time passes faster, and in the company of friends, it flies by. We camped out under the starry heavens at night, building cheery campfires, and fearing no creature but the green dragons that inhabited the northern woodlands. In daylight, we walked along, stopping often for the children. We rose bright and early, and the sun-dappled path was moving us happily along in a slow ramble, twisting and bending to hug the curves of an unseen river not so far away. As we walked, Godric softly sang.

           "Somewhere across the rocky land,

Where heather overturns the sand;

Between the rivers and the lakes.

Across the misty mile takes,

An hour in this lonely land,

A grey spot on earths glitt'ring band.

A kestrel calls his mournful song,

Of those who travel here alone.

Amidst the heather she  awaits,

With golden hair and happy fates,

She sits and sings her holy song,

Of her lover, lost so long.

                        Across the miles she calls her man,

                        Who travels in a distant land,

                        Across the rivers and the lakes,

                        And there her heart unwilling breaks."

            I smiled sadly at these verses, for I knew he was thinking of his beloved Genevieve. I slipped up the rocky path toward him, and spoke softly.

            "I never thanked you for saving me."

            He glanced down at me in surprise. "But Rowena… you know you don't have to. You'd do the same for me, I know it."

            I was not so sure of myself.

Here the road turned steeply, leading us down a twisting, narrow path. The children were held close to their mothers. We cut deeper into the pines. "It's just ahead, around this bend now," called Godric, taking up the lead once more.

            We turned the corner, and stopped.

            There it stood, the grand castle of the kings of yesteryear, now a crumbling ruin, set high on a cliff. It was a majestic sight, a lake at its feet, surrounded by dense forest, mountains surrounding it in the distance, the blue sky crowning its head.

            "It's beautiful," I heard Ophelia breath.

*                                               *                                               *                                               *

We arrived by way of the forest around the lake. The great ruins loomed ominously against the blue of the sky. We entered the courtyard, walked up to the great space where a door had once been. Inside it was musty, spider webs hung from the ceiling, and dust coated the floor. The children let out squeals of delight, and ran off to play. "Be careful!" cried Ophelia, running after them.

The rest of us examined the space more thoroughly. It was incalculably large, its ceiling fading into the darkness. A great stone staircase led up to the second story, broken in some places, and with weeds sprouting from the cracks. To the right was a doorway, taller than the others. I walked to it, my footsteps muffled by the heavy covering of dust. I peered into the room.

It was a great hall, to be sure. The high table still stood in place, and ragged tapestries hung from the walls. A goblet sat overturned on the floor. I picked it up, dusted it off, and set it on the table. I looked above. The ceiling was open to the heavens. It had caved in long ago; rubble was still piled along the walls in places. Green plants sprouted along the top, waving with the wind. The others came and joined me.

"It needs a lot of repairs," said Slytherin shortly.

Gryffindor clapped him on the back. "Well of course it does!" he exclaimed. "No one has lived at Hogwarts for the past 100 years."

"Hogwarts?" Helga murmured. "What a peculiar name."

"Just an old nickname," said Gryffindor. "No one's really quite sure where it came from."

"Hogwarts," I repeated. It was a name I had heard before, somewhere in my travels – through time or space, I did not know. A chill ran down my spine, and I shivered.

Salazar must have noticed, and interpreted my movement differently, for he said, "Yes, it is chilly in here with no roof to keep the warmth in. We must fix that soon."

"Ah," sighed Helga sadly, "but this is my favorite room! The rest of the castle seems so dreary and closed off – not enough windows."

Gryffindor smiled. "That's what my ancestors thought as well. The ceiling used to be bewitched to look like the sky above."

"What a marvelous idea!" Helga exclaimed.

"We'll put up a roof, and then bewitch it to look otherwise…" grumbled Slytherin, shaking his head. The three wandered back out into the hall.

"Coming Rowena?"

*                                               *                                               *                                               *

By evening we had found a cozy set of rooms (roof blessedly intact) where we decided to spent the night, There was even a little hearth, and Salazar set a cozy green fire crackling in it. We retired early, all being quite tired from our journey. In the morning I rose to find Godric and Salazar up and discussing their plans.

"But we just got here, you can't leave us now! You're the only one who knows this land."

"I have to go." Godric's voice was strong and determined. "I must seek her out."

I stopped in the doorway. Salazar noticed me first, he was facing me. "Good morning, Rowena."

Godric swung around. His back had been facing the door, and he had not seen me enter. "Rowena! Hullo."

I sat. "So, you're leaving us?" I asked calmly.

He nodded, his face set in firm resolve that I had seen there often. "I promised Genevieve that I would return, the last time I saw her. I must keep the promise."

"Will you return?" I asked, glancing away from those eyes that burned into me.

He paused for only a moment. "Yes. I cannot abandon you here forever, Salazar is right on that. If I have not found her before the winter ends, I will return. You have my word." He stood.

"You're leaving this moment?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes. I do not have much time."

Salazar stood and shook his hand. I remained in my seat. He took my hand, and nodded. "Rowena."

And with that, he was gone yet again.

For the rest of the year, we lived our lives as we had in the forest. The daily chores consumed me, and left little time for thought. And the castle provided us with another challenge – floors to be scrubbed, stones to be moved, tapestries cleaned. We soon discovered Helga's affinity for herbs and plants, and we set her about the grounds in search of a proper place for a garden. Salazar and I journeyed to the town, a half days walk away. There we traded in our belongings for a few chickens. I reluctantly handed over my earrings, discs of gold like the sun, remembering the chest full of fine things with which they had been presented. The farmer eyed me suspiciously, but I said nothing.

"A little expensive for your like, I'd say," he commented.

"Your wife will be pleased with them. It is rumored they were worn once by a queen."

The man chuckled. "I reckon it could be so. Still, it shan't get you a cow, but you can have the calf."

I nodded, taking the lead from his hand. "Good day, sir."

So we returned, with chickens for eggs, and a cow that would later provide milk. We toiled in the garden for the summer, sweat running down our dirty faces, hair flying loose from our scarves. Salazar would return with game from the forest that Ophelia would cure for the winter months ahead. By the time the last leaves of autumn fell from the trees, we were prepared for a harsh winter.

And harsh it was. We stayed in the castle for four and sixty days while the world outside became white with bitter frost. I passed the time salvaging manuscripts from the decrepit library, repairing their bindings, and copying down what could not be saved. Ophelia would mend clothes, and Helga watched the children, singing low, sweet songs under her breath in a foreign tongue. One night, as we were all sitting about the fire, Salazar stood suddenly and paced over to the window. In his chair, his snake curled in on itself, in a sort of half-hibernation. He looked over the frozen landscape, and sighed.

"We were fools," he muttered, "fools for following one. No man can stay alive out in this wasteland. Look! Nothing for miles in every direction but bleak forest and frozen lake. He will not return. We will sit in this castle and rot."

Ophelia made a noise of admonishment, and Helga covered her boys ears. "Do not say such things! We will survive. The winters in my land are much fiercer."

I strode over to the window to stand beside him, and look out over the lake to the dim mountains, shrouded in snow. "No," I said quietly. "He will come again. He returned from the dead once, he will do so again."

"But for how long," sighed Salazar, wearily. He went and sat by his wife's side. "Do you remember how it used to be?"

She closed her eyes, a pained expression on her face. "Don't make me remember something we cannot have again," she said softly, brushing Lilith's dark hair back from her face.

"But do you?" he asked, softer yet. I turned away, feeling I was intruding upon a private moment. For all of Salazar's faults, he was a good husband. He loved Ophelia in a way I believed I would never be able to comprehend. How lucky they were.

She opened her dark eyes, and looked up at him. "What of it?" she asked, her voice as transparent as smoke. "The bird calls over the marsh? The grasses by the edge of the pool where I would go and collect reeds, where you first heard my song? The sound of the insects in late summer, when the stars shone brighter than ever? No. Do not speak to me of such things." Her dark eyes lowered, like two candles suddenly extinguished. Helga shifted uncomfortably nearby, lifting Brock onto her lap.

There were many other nights filled with doubt, and some with exhaustion, yet most were peaceful. After we had all given up hope of ever seeing the ground again, the sun rose high in the sky, melting the snow. Water rushed down from the mountain peaks into the lakes, leaving muddy trails across the grounds. We began to venture outside once more, scared creatures coming out of a burrow after a storm. Ophelia stood next to me, looking out across the great brown mess that lay at our feet. "He has not returned," she said grimly, staring off to the horizon. His identity was not spoken, we both knew who she meant. I gazed off to the mountains. "He will come," I replied. But I myself was beginning to doubt.

It was another two weeks before he arrived. Green blades of grass, and small yellow flowers were now daring to poke their heads out of the deep brown earth. He came from the mountains, a lone speck at first on the horizon. Helga cried out, pointing. We all stood by the door to await his arrival. Brock, now a sturdy lad with his two front teeth missing, rushed out to greet him. They returned to the door, the boy smiling, the man grim faced. The others all greeted him warmly, relieved to have him back. They spoke not of his mission. Once we were inside, I hung back. He hovered by the door, with the look of a man who knew he must keep his promise, though his heart lies elsewhere.

"You did not find her?" I asked. He shook his head. My hand jumped to his arm of it's own accord.

"I am sorry Godric."

He nodded, and we turned to join the others.

*                                               *                                               *                                               *

So, we began the rebuilding of Hogwarts. It was to be our home now, so we decided to restore it to a shade of its former glory. And here we planted the seed for the generations that would follow.

It was Helga who first gave me the idea. While the men used their magic to lift stones, and build towers, she decided to better the lives of those around us. She had been spending her days tutoring Brock and Lilith, elementary things, but things one needed to know – simple spells and incantations, how to read out of the books we had found in the library. I had seen them struggle with the Latin, and so one day I sat down to help. From there I taught them about the movements of the heavens, she taught them about plants, and their medicinal values. Lilith was especially bright, and asked me as many questions as she could think of. I always had an answer ready, enjoying her inquisitive spirit. And Brock, though he was slow to catch on, studied harder than I ever had, which I admired greatly. Toward the end of their childhood, they had as complete an education as one would receive in Londinium in the days before the invasion.

As the children grew older, they were joined by their friends from the village. Helga allowed them to sit in and study too. Their parents were amazed when the children came home able to read the great books the church had left, and official manuscripts. One little girl was even able to save her little brothers life with a potion she had concocted.

So, when Hogwarts was in the last stages of repair, I shared my idea. We were standing out by the lake, surveying the castle high above. Helga sighed. "Such a large castle, and so few of us."

I decided this was the time to speak. "We should offer the space to others."

Salazar stared at me. "Are you mad? Considering who we are? The people would try and burn us to the ground within days!"

Godric began to protest, but I silenced him with an upraised hand.

"Why not pass on our knowledge to the gifted children around us? Helga has done it before, if only the simple things. I have helped her, and Godric – you taught your horsemen. Ophelia, you are well versed in wizarding lore, and Salazar, you know many curses and their counters. Let us teach those who show promise, like the guilds of the great cities in the south. We can start a school, the greatest school for wizardry and witchcraft in all the world!"

It was Ophelia who spoke first, in her quiet, accented voice. "It is a marvelous idea."

Salazar looked at his wife, and slowly began to nod. "Yes," he murmured, "it is a good plan. People will come from far and wide to our school."

Godric smiled at me. "Brilliant Rowena. But where we find enough students to fill Hogwarts?"

"They will come," replied Helga. "They always come if there is a chance to better their lives."

I clapped my hands together, delighted. "Good!" I said. "We can start combing the village tomorrow."

I should have known that it would not be that easy. First, we all pitched in to finish repairs on the castle. Then we scrubbed the floors and swept the cobwebs from the rafters. Even when we used magic, it was quite a lot of work. Finally, the armor shone and the tapestries looked like new. Then came the hard part.

We searched the village, talking to many families, interviewing many children. It was clear to me which ones showed potential, and I came back with my list, sure it would be approved. But when compared the four pieces of parchment (the Slytherins had combined theirs), we had completely different names on each. We were all quite puzzled.

"But did you not go down the lake road?" I asked.

"I did," replied Godric, "but it seems you missed this one." He pointed to a name on his list.

"It looks as if we were the only ones to travel up the mountain," said Ophelia mystified.

It was Helga who laughed first. "We all have different ways of choosing," she said, pointing to my list. I recognize this name, but I did not choose the child, as he seemed lazy."

I glanced down. "Oh, no!" I replied. "He was exceedingly bright."

Salazar skimmed down Helga's list. "Yes," he murmured. "I remember her. But she seemed so dull… wouldn't even answer some of my questions."

"But this one," said Godric pointing to the Slytherins list, frowning, "was disrespectful to his mother. You can't teach a child who won't respect his own parents."

"He was wise not to respect her," replied Salazar. "She was as daft as a chicken."

This continued for quite some time, until Ophelia raised her wand in the air, setting off several firecrackers. "Enough!" she yelled. We all froze, staring at her with mouths open.

She resumed her pleasant tone. "There is more than enough room here," she said. "We will teach them all."

Godric nodded. "That is fair. But how will we divide them?"

"Houses," responded Slytherin. "In my days as an apprentice, we were divided into three houses, where we slept. We were to study under those men."

"Yes," I murmured. "I remember we had forms, where we were divided by skill or age."

"We shall combine the two," said Helga. "They will sleep in their houses, and study in their forms."

Ophelia nodded. "And what will we call these houses?"

"There will be four, one to represent each founding family," said Salazar, glancing toward the mountains, where the sun had just set, "but I believe we will wait until tomorrow to choose. Think of a name and symbol for your house. We will discuss them tomorrow after dinner."

*                                               *                                               *                                               *

After the plates were cleared the next night, talk turned to the school. Slytherin folded his hands. "We might as well begin. Has everyone thought of a suitable name?" We each nodded in turn. "Good. I suppose we will begin." He stood. His wife nodded for him to begin. He cleared his throat, and proceeded to speak.

"We have decided to call our house after the town we were taken from, Slytherin of the Fens. It is a noble Roman name, harking back to the days of our ancestors in that fair city. Our symbol is to be the snake, which graces our family insignia." He sat, and nodded to Helga, who stood, blushing.

"My house is to be called Hufflepuff after my late father, the Earl of Hufflepuff, across the eastern sea. The symbol will be a black badger on a golden field, like his banner." She sat down, looking as if she saw not the present, but some time past, in a land far away.

I stood, smoothing my skirt. "I choose the name Ravenwood, in remembrance of my home, and the raven for my symbol. It is the only creature clever enough to survive the heat of the desert and the bitterness of the northern wastelands." I resumed my seat. All eyes turned to Godric.

He got up slowly. "After much deliberation, I have decided that my house shall be called Gryffindor, the name of my ancestors, the kings of yesteryear. My symbol is to be the lion, a noble beast." With that, he sat.

I leaned over. "You didn't give it a moment of thought until you stood, did you?" I whispered.

He grinned. I tried to give him a look of disapproval, but couldn't keep my face straight. A laugh escaped.

He caught me in the hall afterwards. "I still think Ravenwood lacks a bit of your essential character, Rowena," he murmured. "You do far more than just survive with your cleverness. You use it to fight as well, for the good in things. Why not pick a more noble bird… the eagle, perhaps? I know they roost in the woods of Cambria as well."

I pressed my lips together tightly. "The raven is a noble bird, and so it will stand."

In response he gave me that curious sideways smile, and nodded. I frowned.

So, Hogwarts was begun. Our first class consisted of one and two score students, from towns miles in every direction. Some even came from the town to the north, the largest in Caledonia, after hearing of our search. They arrived from all directions, most on foot, but a few riding behind parents and one arrived in a carriage.

I was quite nervous, as I kept smoothing down my dark skirt. I noticed Ophelia pressing her lips together tightly in a fashion that was quite unusual to her usually calm and gracious demeanor and Helga stood in a corner, smoothing back her hair. Even Salazar paced about the Great Hall. Only Godric remained unruffled. We had already interviewed all of the students, so we knew our picks by face and name, but we would be teaching all children. I was to teach Latin and Astronomy. Godric would teach Counter Curses and the basics for magical combat and the handling of creatures, Salazar was handling Curses, and Helga Herbology. The latter two were sharing the task of teaching Potions as well. Ophelia was to teach Magical Songs and Lore. We were all sharing the task of Spell learning.

Classes were to be held at sunrise. Before, there would be a meager breakfast in the Great Hall, prepared by a lady we had found in the village who offered to cook for us in exchange for food and shelter. She was also to care for the animals and do the laundry, as we now had our hands full of teaching.

There would be a break between classes for the day's feast, then we would continue on to sunset. An evening meal would be served, and then it would be time for bed. To me, it was a call back to the days at the school in Londinium. However, I hoped that my students would have a far more pleasant experience.

My mind was set at ease as the first ones gathered in the courtyard. Their faces revealed them to be as frightened as I felt. I had forgotten what it was like to leave home, and to go to a place where no face was familiar. My heart went out to them, but I remained at the top of the stairs, unsmiling. It was not my task to comfort them. They were here to learn. They would soon forget the places from which they had come, and would settle in at the castle.

*                                               *                                               *                                               *

 "Madam Rowena?" came a timid voice, and a slight tug on my sleeve.

I glanced down over my glasses, my arms full of parchment. One of my students stood there, a first year girl with red fuzzy hair and many freckles.

"Yes Morwyth?"

She went on to ask me a very confused and confusing question about last week's astronomy homework. I listened patiently. Patience was one virtue that I had gained these past seven years. It was hard to believe indeed, that I had been teaching and living at Hogwarts for so long.

"… and then I wasn't sure about the three stars aligned… and is the north star the first or the third to the left, I never can remember…"

I finished explaining how to detect Polaris, and the child thanked me profusely (turning red to her ears), and went on her way. I passed a group of fifth years, coming in from the outdoors all muddy. Godric had managed to procure a Hippogriff for his class, and they seemed to be having a hard time with it.

All in all, things were going well. Over the years our numbers had grown steadily, from the one and two score to five and three score, and so on… this year we had eight and five score students in attendance. Some had even come from across the western sea to join us, so had the renowned of Hogwarts spread. Our staff had grown from five to nine. We were far better organized, enough to laugh at our first years. Our schedule had been adjusted to allow time for leisure and study. We wore robes of black to unify our dress, and to set us apart when we journeyed to town. The houses had settled in to their own right, each developing their separate identities. Godric's students usually exhibited uncommon courage, and loyalty to their fellow students. They were the natural leaders, though the Slytherin students also had their share. The Slytherins tended to have a keen sense of timing, and a knowledge of how to influence others that I admired. Many were hard workers, with great ambition. However, Salazar also had his share of rather wicked, and even doltish students. Somehow I suspected that these were the ones that he had picked, while the wise ones came through Ophelia's judgment. Helga's brood were the gentlest, kind and caring, like her, and hard workers. They were also loyal, and often became friends with the Gryffindors.

But of course, my students were the most brilliant, the brightest and wittiest. They were the top students, some without ever trying. I encouraged them to be diligent with their studies, so that they would receive the full benefits of a Hogwarts education, and most honored this, putting to shame the other students. I was quite fond of them all. A few reminded me of myself, back in my early days. And yet, they often disappointed me. Perhaps I expected too much of them, after all, they were only children. But many had a gaping hole in their personalities, which only too painfully reminded me of the one in mine. I noted this trait in a few of Slytherins students as well, and it was many years before I was able to put a finger on it. At long last, I realized what it was – an inability to express love. Perhaps this was what made me secretly delight every time I was given a class of Gryffindors to teach.

Many times, after dinners, we would sit and plan the future of the school. We had begun to feel safe that this venture was a permanent one, indeed, one that may well have lasted the rest of our lives. And so, we began to make preparations for the future.

The idea came to us when Ophelia was expecting another child, and could not be present for that years search in the village, and through the countryside. We had talked, lightly as possible, about what would happen to our school, to the four houses, when we were gone.

It was Godric who thought of it. He despised the hats that we had made a part of our uniform, so he was quite happy to give his up. After a series of spells, he placed the hat on each of our heads. I watched as it slipped over Helga's eyes. She wore the hat for quite some time, and my curiosity grew. "Well?" I asked, when she finally removed it.

She blushed slightly, shaking her head. "I am not to say. You must try it for yourself, with no biases."

I looked at her for a moment, pondering what she had just said, and slipped it on. For a moment, there was nothing but darkness. Then, I was surprised to hear it whisper in my ear.

"Hello there…" I let out a small gasp.

"It's all right, Rowena. I'm just searching your mind."

I felt quite uneasy as the hat pondered over my ideas.

"Hmm… yes, intelligence is always good. And applying ones self to the task at hand. Not to keen on emotions, are we?" I flinched. "Sorry," said the voice, "I am supposed to be impartial, you know, for this to work…"

It went on whispering in my ear for quite some time, speaking to my mind without my lips moving once. I was quite shaken when it came time to take it off. I lifted it off my head, and looked at Godric, who was now standing directly in front of me, arms folded.

"Well?" he asked.

"Brilliant idea," I sniffed, "but I'm not sure I like the object that's going to exercise it." I handed the hat to Slytherin, who examined it carefully before trying it on. We left him in peace as the hat picked his brain.

"So how will this work?" Helga asked.

"The hat will explain the sorting process, along with the identities of the four houses. Of course, the characteristics of each will be what you put into it. No more, no less. But all children who come to this school will be given a place to go, I have seen to that. Great things can happen, if you only expect them to."

"Lofty ideals," I commented, with a righteous smile.

He chuckled. "D'you realize that a thousand years from now, all they'll know of us will be tales sung by a crusty old hat?"

"Far longer than that, I believe." I whispered. "Far longer than that…" Even then I had foreseen many things that would come to pass. I already knew that the school would last far beyond the tales of our days and deeds.

And still, at times I was not certain we would survive the day, much last the year. Many events precipitated the end of our golden age. There was the monk who came from across the sea, preaching in the village, and speaking of heresy and devilry afoot in the countryside, thumping his leather volume in the town square. There was the cook, who we finally had to let go, in part for her own laziness, who spread the rumors of the 'unnaturalness' of our students. Gangs of unschooled boys roamed the streets of the village, looking for fights with our boys, and harassing our girls. A sense of unrest had fallen over the valley.

I was tossing and turning in my sleep, caught in a fitful dream that I had not had in years. Ravenwood was burning once more, before my eyes. I heard horrible screams, saw people running about, some being consumed in flames, some being shot down where they stood by beams of green light. Three horses rode past, their hooves thundering on the dusty path. They were black as night, and their riders wore heavy cloaks, their faces concealed in shadows. Then came the image I had not thought of in years. The Hengist entered on a tall horse with no skin – it's pale bones shone in the moonlight, and its eyes glowed with an unearthly fire. The Hengist pointed his wand directly at my heart…

I awoke in time to hear the clap of thunder. Shuddering I rose from my bed, and paced across the cold floor to close the shutters on the impending storm. I gazed up at the night sky, and noted how very clear it was. Each star sparkled in its circuit across the heavens. I stopped to admire the view. Hearing the thunder once more, I closed the window tightly, and returned to my bed.

It was Helga who woke me, not ten minutes later. She was holding a candle in her hand, and her straw colored hair flew out from her shawl. "Quickly, come now," she told me in a breathless voice. "We must protect the children."

I looked at her, confused.

"We are under attack," she moaned. "You must come, now!"

I followed her in a daze, not clearly comprehending what she had said. We dashed down the great staircases, until we reached the bottom floor. I coughed, smelling the acrid scent of something burning. For one mad moment, I thought the castle was on fire. I regained my senses, shaking the sleep from my mind. Stone cannot burn.

However, wood can, and the entryway was a mess of screaming children, and thick dark smoke. A ring of fire burned through the great oak doors. They shook again, a sound like thunder, and finally, I understood. They were storming the castle.

"Down to the dungeons, now!" I commanded the children. I grabbed an elder boy's arm. "Fingal, you lead the way." Through the confusion, he was able to round up the younger ones, and lead them to safety. I watched as they went down the stairs, a closely huddled line. In the darkness, and the smoke, I bumped into a solid figure.

"Rowena?"

"Godric," I gasped, grasping his arm. "Lumos!" I stared at him, his eyes dark and burning in his pale face. "What is happening here?" I asked, feeling myself break.

"The villagers are attacking. Get your wand ready, Rowena." He raised his voice. "Do not aim to kill. No one must be hurt, we must show them we are peaceful."

Just then, the great doors came crashing down, and in swept the angry mob.

They were armed with torches, farm tools, a few had bows or spears. As they ran toward us, weapons raised, we lifted our wands, and cried, "IMPEDIMENTIA!" as one voice. The first wave froze, the second halted. But soon they advanced once more, reaching us, separating us. Curses were beginning to be hurled left and right. Purple sparks signaled to me that Godric's wishes for peace were not all being followed. But still, for a half of an hour, we were able to keep up our defense without a single casualty on either side.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" I cried, relieving a farmer of his scythe. It clattered to the floor behind me, safely striking nothing but stone. I was about to run to the aid of one of our younger teachers, when the unthinkable occurred. I turned in time to see it happen.

It was a boy who was the same age as Lilith, freckled, carrying a pitchfork. He did not seem to be attempting any attack, but merely stood there, waving his tool, and yelling encouragement. The sight saddened me, that one this young was already turned. If only he could see what evil hate does to men, like I had seen on the battlefield, many years ago.

A movement caught my eye. Salazar had been throwing curses right and left, his rage growing with every new defense. I do not know if he knew what he was doing. Perhaps his aim was off. Perhaps he only wanted to make an example. Or perhaps he truly wanted to kill the child, whose words echoed the words of the Britons, so many years before.

Ophelia noticed too. I saw her turn, saw her look from her husband to the boy. The color left her face. She glanced at Lilith, safe behind Helga. "NO!" she cried as her husband raised his wand.

But it was too late. It came rushing down with the wind of death. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" he shouted, calling upon one of the oldest curses, and the most evil. The green light left his wand like a flash. Ophelia made a sudden movement, jerking herself into harms way. The curse hit her, full on. For a moment, her dark eyes lit up, taking in the room for one last time. Then they dulled, the light behind extinguished like a candle put in a basin. She was dead before she hit the ground.

"No!" wailed Salazar, running to his wife's side. "Ophelia, no… what have I done?" He ran his hands through his hair. "Ophelia…" He sank, his head collapsing onto her breast. But she did not move.

The people around the boy backed away, and a great cry arose, one of fear. The villagers backed off, like a cowardly dog with its tail between its legs. Salazar paid them no notice. "Leave us!" cried Godric. "Leave us! No one was meant to be harmed!" The fear in their eyes grew incalculably, and the majority fled, as quickly as they had come. I noted our old cook was amongst them.

A few stragglers remained, fighting until they had been stunned, or otherwise cursed away. The men dragged the unconscious bodies outside. Still, Salazar remained motionless on the floor, his head bent over his wife's lifeless body.

*                                               *                                               *                                               *

Salazar remained locked away in mourning for many days. Eventually, he would let us in to see him, but he would not leave Ophelia's side. Her corpse did not decay, but only grew cold, like icy marble. She lay on the bed, her free hand across her breast. Her beautiful black hair lay splayed out like a halo, adorned with sweet white flowers from the wood. It was a full month before any of us spoke to him. I decided as the three of us entered the chamber a month from the morning of her death, that I must be the one to break the silence.

I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Salazar, she is gone… leave her in peace."

"You are supposed to see these things," he cried at me, knocking my hand away. "Why didn't you warn her?" It was then I noticed the snake – Salazar's pet had wrapped itself protectively around Ophelia's body. The light shone off its dull scales as its coils undulated, contracting around her as if to protect her from the intruders. It raised its head and hissed at me.

I remained cool. "I learned long ago not to change the course of time for my own purposes. There is a design, grander than you or I. We must not change the course of history, or something will always be amiss is the world."

He spit at my feet. "Seer! Murderer!"

Godric leapt at him. "Rowena loved her too," he said, his voice soft with quiet anger. "We all did. She might be able to see the future, but she cannot control everything. How dare you? How dare you call her that?"

Salazar's grey eyes flashed. "As you wish. As you wish," he hissed. "Then I will call you the murderer, for that it the truth. You killed her as well as I did, with this school." Godric released his hold. Salazar stood up.

 Godric's fist clenched angrily around his staff. I know that he did not mean to use it, but Salazar misinterpreted the action. From his cloak he drew a blade. It shone silver, its edge winking in the dull firelight. He drew back, preparing to strike at Godric.

Time flashed before my eyes, faster than ever before, from my first memories of the riders, up to the conversation we had had before reaching Hogwarts. Godric's voice echoed in my ears. "But Rowena… you know you don't have to. You'd do the same for me, I know it." Without a moment of hesitation I flung myself between the two, holding out my bare arms to push them apart. I flinched, waiting for the icy steel to rip my skin.

But the blade never came. It was uncanny – Salazar saw it as well as I did – the strange sense that we were repeating the moment of Ophelia's death like some gruesome play. The knife fell to the floor with a clatter, spinning wildly and coming to rest at Helga's feet. I caught the breath rising in my chest. "Peace!" I cried, in a firmer voice than I would have thought possible.

 Salazar turned, teeth bared, and wiped the sweat from his face. "This day marks the end. On my wife's grave, I swear I shall prevent those with impure bloodlines from attending Hogwarts. A plague will be upon them. So I take my leave. A fool, a murderer and a whore will teach them." And with those words, he turned in a great fury of flowing robes, and was gone.

Helga sobbed in her corner, cradling Lilith, who had been brought up from the dungeon to sit by her father's side as he mourned. Godric made a sudden motion, wrapping his arm around me, holding me up, for my knees were weak. "Are you alright?" he murmured, brushing a lock of stray hair from my eyes. I nodded, looking straight at him. He turned, letting me go, and helped Helga to her feet, looking pale and shaken.

"Where has father gone?" asked Lilith, her silver eyes wide.

For the first time, I was unable to answer her question.

*                                               *                                               *                                               *

It was weeks before Salazar returned for his daughter. When he did, he simply came in, took her by the hand and turned to leave. Helga following him out, demanding to know where the child was going; if she would have proper food and care, love and attention. She even offered to care for her herself.

"I am taking her away from this place," he simply said, and with that, they were gone.

I was never to see them again.

*                                       *                                               *                                               *

It was a mournful winter. Many of the children were taken home by their parents, and we passed the quiet hours together, each in our own solitude. I was unable to sleep, beset once more by horrible dreams. I saw myself far away from the castle, in a burning wood. The sky changed rapidly, the sun rose and set many times. The burning stopped, replaced by the rain, and the snow. All the while, a raven circled. 'Come my friend!' his beating wings seemed to cry. I did not want to follow, however. I was ill of the shadowy dream world, of the tricks and deceits it played upon my mind. So, I roamed the corridors aimlessly, holding a candle in my hand, watching and waiting for something to occur.

On one of the nights, as I crossed a corridor, I was met with a surprise… flickering firelight filtered out from a doorway to the right. I followed it, stopped, silhouetted in the frame.

He heard my soft footsteps and glanced up. "Good evening Rowena."

"It is far past evening, Godric," I replied, arching my brows. "What are you reading?"

He glanced down at the text in his hand, rubbing his eyes. "I don't rightly know," he finally replied with a weary smile. For a moment, he looked diminished somehow, paler, older. It worried me. I drew closer, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you quite certain you're all right?"

He sighed. "I am well," he replied, "tired, and weary, but well."

I nodded, sitting next to him on the hearth as he gestured for me to. "I know," I replied. "It is Ophelia's death, and Salazar's departure. It has taxed us all greatly."

He looked at me, his face half concealed in darkness. "You say these things, but do you ever feel them, Rowena?"

For the first time in years, I felt tears stinging my eyes. "I am tired," I said, my voice sounding odd to my own ears. "I must go."

He took my hand as I stood, grasped it firmly. "Rowena," he whispered. I felt a tear slide down my nose, and turned my face to hide it from him.

"I must go, Godric," I repeated.

"Stay here with me, but for a while," he said.

I sat once more, but faced away from him. His hand still grasped mine. The tears flowed steadily now. A sob caught in my chest, choked its way up through my throat. I began to shake. Godric felt this, and put a reassuring arm around my shoulder. This only made my chest heave harder fighting to keep in the emotion I had held for so long.

Then, the dam broke. I buried my face against his chest, sobbing. He clutched me tightly to him, brushing back my hair, and whispering words of reassurance. Finally, I quieted, and lay there numb, having cried away all my tears. He held me, rocking me gently back and forth. An occasional sob escaped, but my eyes were dry.

So softly it was almost inaudible he sang, in his husky voice…

"From the woods of the rook, where the ravens cry,

 and the lonely mists where the eagles fly,

 from the amber peaks and deep blue sky,

 and the spangled orb of the heavens high;

 where the winds come whispering, like a sigh,

 of the maiden with the starry eye,

 and a brow on which all pain must die,

 where I'll sheath my sword, and upon it lie."

I rested my body against his, listening to the steady beat of his heart. When was the last time I had been so physically close to a human? It was impossible to remember. I supposed my mother had held me, comforted me, but I could not recall now, so far away it seemed. Now, it seemed so strange, yet so right to be held by Godric. My fears subsided and I was silent, listening to the soothing sound of his voice. I do not know how long we sat there, but my eyes had closed, and in that place between sleep and awake, where dreams flourish, I felt his lips press softly against my forehead, felt him lift me up in his arms and carry me up to my room like a small child. I curled up in my dream, and slept gently that night.

            I awoke in my room the next day, uncertain if it had all been some strange dream. At breakfast in the Great Hall, Godric's face gave nothing away. I decided that the events of the night before had never occurred, and went on with the day. Soon, the idea of me crying into his shoulder, let alone having him sing a song to comfort me, became ridiculous. Still, I would sometimes catch him gazing at me in a way that he never had before. Things became strange between us – when we met in the corridor, there was an odd, formal silence that had not been present in times past.

*                                               *                                               *                                               *

The winter months passed, and with the thaw of spring, old wounds began to heal and memories soften. It was a fine spring day, and Helga and I were outside by the lake, scrubbing away at our robes. From over the grassy hills, to the side of the castle, there came a faint whisper, like a warm spring wind. But it was a voice – a celestial voice that spoke of all the world, and yet, of nothing but love and beauty. We stopped our work to listen. It floated closer and closer, like the song of the loveliest bird rejoicing the end of a hard winter, until it seemed ready to burst over the edge of the hollow, and spill out into the lake and forest in a joyous flood, like sweet ambrosia.

I knew it was her even before I turned around.

She was more beautiful than I could have possibly imagined, though I grant you, I had tried. She stood at the crest of the hill, clothed all in white, staff in hand. Her hair was the color of deep gold, or light copper, and flowed out behind her, a halo in the wind. Encircling her head was a wreath of wild flowers. She was small and slim, and her face was enchanting – the way her small mouth curved as she sang, the way her eyes sparkled, the same color as sea reflecting sky, her face like the palest rose, bitten with color in her lips and cheeks. As she raised her arms to the heavens, I fell sure that the sun would fade in awe.

Then came the part that would bring me to tears, over and over in the solitude of my room. I felt my heart break as he came, rushing out of the castle. His face was pale, yet flushed all at once, and his eyes shone with a certain emotion I have never been able to define. "Gennie?" he asked in a whisper that could be heard for miles. She ran to his arms, and he swung her around. Their lips met as they embraced. It was a kiss for all time, a kiss for the ages to remember, a kiss to make all lovers in times past or future to pale in comparison. For a brief second, the earth stood still, and spring was eternal. Genevieve had returned.