When I was finally able to get up again after my confinement, to walk around freely, I found myself quite depressed. I loved my daughter very much, and devoted most of my time to her care, but still, I was lonely. The castle had always seemed cavernous, even for it's small size, when I lived there alone with my husband, but now it seemed too large, too cold. The ceilings disappeared into darkness, the bare stone of the floor froze my feet, even early in the fall. The view from the windows was no comfort either. They all overlooked the same barren landscape, one that used to be full of beauty to me – burnt trees and low mountains on all sides. The only creatures I ever saw were the ravens, ever-present, circling overhead. Their cries were the only sound to break the silence.
For the first time in seven long years, my thoughts drew back to the school. I wondered how Godric and Helga were getting along. I missed the chatter of students in the corridor, missed getting up in the mornings and going into my classroom to prepare for the day. I made up my mind at this point, but I waited until my daughter was old enough to walk distances on her own, and to be able to carry on a conversation with me before I informed the household of my plans.
So, early one morning, while the sky was still dark, we left. Nurse stood in the torch lit doorway, crying her eyes out, and waving us off, but aside from that, it was a simple exit, my daughter and I with our traveling cloaks, carrying nothing but a simple sack each. Two green-hooded figures, we disappeared off into the woods, heading north.
My heart grew lighter with every step away from the place. I began to reminisce about other journeys – the one north to Hogwarts, quite like the road we traveled now, the one to the camp of the Britons, the one from Ravenwood to Londinium, and especially, the journey I had made to the great circle so many years before. The air held some memory of that journey especially – perhaps it was the darkness, the changing sky, the feeling of change in the air – change for the better. My stride grew longer, until Brenna began to cry that I was leaving her. I rushed back.
We sat by a stream, my daughter dangling her toes in it. I retrieved some bread from a bag, we ate it hungrily. Brenna looked up at me, her grey eyes bright. "Where are we going Mama?"
I had told her little of my idea, in fact, I had merely told her we were going on an adventure. She had loved the sound of that at the time. She loved the stories I told her at night, of brave warriors and evil kings. Little did she know how many of those stories I had experienced in my own lifetime.
We continued on, ambling at a slower pace now, Brenna's small hand in my own. Occasionally I would carry her, but for the most part, we walked along side by side, her chattering about the small animal she had just seen, or I telling her some tale of a princess who received her happy ending. I wished for such a tale myself, but it was not to be – my prince had come and gone, and he had not at all been like the ones in the legends. History would not remember Vortigern, at least not favorably.
After quite some time (I had not kept track of the days, but let them flow by pleasantly), the countryside changed, became darker and wilder. I knew we were drawing near. Soon, we traveled into the mountains, with lakes pressed between. Brenna was fascinated, having never seen water in such large quantities before. I told her of the sea, how people set mythical kings out to float upon it, in hopes that they would reach the lands far away, where they lived on in eternity.
Finally, we broke out of a thick forest of pines. The scene before us stretched out familiarly. I felt a tear come to my eye, and hastily wiped it away. I was home.
Brenna gazed at the castle in awe. "Do we get to stay there, Mama?"
"Yes, Brenna," I whispered. "If they will have us back."
We knocked at the great doors, but no one answered. I pushed the door gently, it creaked open under my finger tips. We stepped into the entrance hall. Everything was silent. No sound of laughter, of students in the Great Hall, no explosions echoing from failed lessons up the grand stairs.
I had begun to give up hope, to believe the castle deserted, when a small form darted across the hall, from one door to another. It was a boy, too young to be a student, only a little older than Brenna. He had a coppery shock of unkempt hair, and large, dark eyes. He gazed at us for a moment, then fled.
"Who was that, Mama?" asked Brenna in an over-loud whisper.
I hushed her with a finger to my lips, and proceeded on up the stairs, each footfall echoing loudly.
I walked all the way up to the entrance to Ravenwood tower, noting that where the banner of a raven used to hang, there was now one of an eagle. I pressed my palm to the hidden door. It swung open. The room was fairly empty, but for a few students. All were very somber looking, and did not glance up as we entered. But over in a corner, a woman saw us, and stood, her mouth open in a gasp.
"Rowena," she whispered, "you have returned!"
The lady's name was Elspeth, she had been one of the first teacher we had hired outside the five. I rushed to her.
"Elspeth, what has happened here?"
She shook her head. "Many sad things, since you have been gone, Ma'am. Salazar's promise has found it's form."
I did not ask how she knew what he had sworn the night he had departed. Instead I furrowed my brow, and said to her, "Tell me everything that has occurred, Elspeth, no more, no less. Do not omit a word, or embellish." She had always had a tendency to depart from the facts, one which I detested in a woman so bright.
And so, she told me, how everything had been going fine for the longest time… in my absence, she had been appointed charge of Ravenwood. Then, only a few months ago, a terrible plague washed through the valley. The lake had dried up, and what little water there was left had turned bitter. The sky had darkened to a hazy green for months, and no rain had fallen. Livestock had died, and crops withered. Disease sprung from the drought. It had wiped out the nearby village, and had descended upon Hogwarts. All the children were fine, but those who did not have magical blood had perished.
Here I interrupted her. "What of Genevieve, wife of Godric?"
Elspeth hung her head with sorrow. "She held out for the longest time… we thought she was going to make it. But in the end, even she succumbed."
My hand flew to my heart, which seemed to have stopped. I had not known Genevieve well, in fact, I had made no attempts to know her, fleeing at her marriage. But it tore at my heart that such a lovely thing could be taken. Old men died, yes, young children as well, but not things of such vitality and beauty, in the prime of their lives. Elspeth continued.
"Ever since, parents have been appearing to bring their children home… quite scared that it will hit us next. And the castle is in disarrayed – half the classes are no longer held. But the rains have come at last, more than enough, in fact…"
"And what of Godric?" I breathed.
"He sits alone in his room, does not come out except at night, to continue his lonely watch along the walls. It is a tragedy. And his son runs loose… hasn't spoken a word since his mother's death."
"His son?" I raised my eyes to Elspeth's plain face.
She nodded. "Within a year of your departure, Genevieve had a child. They named him Llewellyn. A charming little child, but now…" she broke off in a sigh.
"Godric is in his tower?" I questioned, standing.
"Yes," she nodded. "It would do him good to see you."
I nodded back. "Thank you Elspeth."
For the first time, her eyes caught on Brenna. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then refrained. I exited the room, clasping my daughter's hand tightly.
When we reached Godric's door, I released her from my grasp. "Brenna," I said to her, "wait right out here. I might be a while, but I promise, I will come for you. Stay where you are, so that when I return, I will be able to find you." She nodded vigorously.
I knocked softly. There was no answer, so, once again, I pushed the door open, and stepped inside.
The room was dark, no torches were lit, but a small shaft of light poured in through a narrow window, illuminating the scene. Godric sat there, covered in his cloak, head in hand, staring far out the window into the distance. He did not move, or seem to noticed me at all until I paced across the room, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He stirred, turning to look at me with dark, haunted eyes.
"Rowena? Have you returned to us? Or is this merely some phantom… they visit me now, constantly. Yes, a mere reflection of times past… and yet you are solid. Have I become a ghost as well?"
I shook my head, fighting back tears. Here was the man, the lion, the one who had led the Britons; broken and bewildered at last. "No, Godric," I whispered. "I am flesh and blood. I have returned."
He stood, grasped both of my arms for a moment, looking at me. My stony facade crumbled. "Oh, Godric, I'm sorry…" I threw my arms about him, buried my head in his shoulder. "I should have stayed, should have been there…"
He swallowed, then spoke in a voice that sounded hollow, dried out, like dead leaves. Still, it was comforting, a whisper. "There was nothing you could have done, Rowena. But now, you are needed. Hogwarts has died. It needs to be revived, and I could not do it alone."
I looked at him, eyes wide. "But Helga could have helped, could she not?"
He shook his head. "Helga has needed my help, and she has not received it. I cannot carry on without Gennie."
"But she is still here," I murmured. "She will always be with us, in spirit, right here." I placed a hand over his heart. "And someday, you will see her again, coming, singing across the hills. She found you once before. She will do it again."
He clasped a large, strong hand over my delicate one, and held it there, gazing at me. Finally he spoke. "Thank you Rowena."
* * * *
It took some time to rebuild all that we had lost. And the hardest task of all was restoring Godric to his former self. Even after he had begun to laugh again, I would catch him staring out over the land, pensive as he had not been in years past, waiting as if to see Genevieve returning once more.
However, as the seasons passed, he grew less melancholy. He began to take an interest in his son again, though the child remained mute. Classes resumed, teacher that had gone away returned, new ones were hired. Students came to the doors again, asking for admittance. The village slowly began to refill, this time with the families of students who were looking for a new life, and a home closer to the center of wizarding in those days. Fear was still rising across the countryside of those with magical powers, as it has in all times since. The new villagers christened the village 'Hogsmeade' in honor of the school.
I settled back into my role as a teacher, though, with all the help we had received, it was no longer necessary for me to teach multiple subjects. It had been suggested that I take on a divination class, but I refused. Though I had learned much to help my craft along the way, there was also something deeper – and inborn sense or talent – that you must possess in order to see the things that come to pass.
Instead, I settled back into my spell teaching, though it was now being broken up into different sections – Charms and Transfiguration amongst them. I took the charms post, and toiled with the students, teaching them all that I knew. Exhausting, yet exhilarating work. I found myself smiling once more. I was truly home.
Brenna was thoroughly enjoying her new-found life at the castle as much as I was. Though still too young to be a student, she would come in to 'help' me some days, and I rewarded her with her own wand, teaching her a few elementary spells. I recalled the day I had received my own wand. It was old and worn now, as I was becoming, but powerful as ever. Brenna ran about with hers, displaying her knowledge to anyone who would watch – usually only Llewellyn.
In fact, she was the one to get him to speak. We were eating at the high table, in the Great Hall, when Llewellyn approached his father. He raised his large dark eyes, and asked, clear as day, "Father, when can I have a wand like Brenna's?" Godric had one there by the next day. He was overjoyed to hear the child speak again. Soon, Llewellyn was talking away, though he was never quite as chatty as my Brenna. They became fast friends, and could be seen running around the castle or the grounds together at any given time.
* * * *
The days rolled by peaceably into months, then years. Hogwarts flourished once more, and all was well. My own heart was content, but still, I knew that there was still a space in it. My inability to love had been conquered by my daughter, I cared for her more than anything. But somehow, there was still something missing.
I did not truly realize what it was until one early autumn night. I had come up to the owlery to send a letter to Ollivander's in Londinium, begging them to relocate to Hogsmeade, but I stopped as my eyes beheld the scene out the west window. From these heights, you could see all the surrounding countryside, a majestic sight in itself. But tonight the sun was slowly setting over the mountains, and the sky was a deep scarlet, stretching out to the corners of the earth, and reflecting it's glow in the lake. The low-lying clouds were tinted golden from the dwindling sunlight in a way that would last long into dusk.
I was so entranced, that I did not hear him enter. I jumped as he stood next to me, placing his hand on my shoulder.
"Oh! You startled me, Godric."
He nodded in the way of an apology, then turned back to the window. "What a magnificent view," he breathed.
We gazed out the window for the longest time. I grew quite conscious of his hand still lightly placed on my shoulder. I must have made some slight movement that made him aware of it too, for he lowered it to his side.
"Rowena," he asked me, his tone unreadable, "do you think it possible to love more than one person in a lifetime?"
I felt the blood rise to my face at the unexpected question. "I think it possible to love people differently," I responded, choosing my words carefully, "for each person is different."
He sighed wearily, noiselessly. "I'm not talking about the way you love your daughter, or I my son."
I nodded, gazing off into the distance. "I know."
His lips parted, as if he was going to say something, but then he changed his mind. We stood in silence for a moment, before he asked me a question that he had pondered for quite some time.
"Did you love him?"
I closed my eyes, felt the earth rocking us gently in the cradle of time. "I have loved only one man in all my life."
He nodded, accepting this as an answer.
'Fool!' I wanted to cry, 'Fool! Do not accept this – ask.'
But of course he did not.
As he walked off down the stairs, I remained by the window, gazing down upon the lake. The forest's shadowy edge blended high into the mountains, which pierced the golden streaked sky. Sadly, I thought to myself, 'Yes, Godric, I have only ever loved one man. I have only loved you.'
* * * *
Life stayed as normal, even after the incident in the owlery. Things did not become strange, as they had so long ago when Godric comforted me in the library. We both had the experience of years on our side now, and had both seen death at it's most silent. We had become creatures of happy solitude.
Helga grew quieter as well, though she had never been one for excess words. Her son was grown, and he journeyed off on his own. She taught, tended her garden lived by her usual schedule. Yet there was a sadness, a loneliness, a longing that had not been there before when I met her warm brown eyes.
Perhaps this is what made me follow her as I spotted her out my window one afternoon, beginning a trek up the nearby mountainside. I threw my cloak over my shoulders, and headed on out of the castle.
I journeyed up the mountain, to where she had gone, legs screaming, back aching. I stopped several times to catch my breath. I was not as young as I used to be. Finally, I reached the summit, a place where snow still gathered in small pools of shade, melting around the edges, but ever present. I clasped my cloak around me tighter. The wind blew my hair, whipping it harshly across my face. I quietly walked over to Helga, who was gazing far to the east. I turned to face the view.
The land stretched out below us forever, the castle a tiny child's toy, a mere model, in the grandeur of the mountains. The lake glistened below, the dark forest's edges could be seen. Hills rolled out to the south, eventually forming another range. To the north-east water could be seen, sparkling dimly in the distance – the great Firth and then the sea.
We stood in silence for the longest time. Finally, Helga spoke, quietly, but with a resolve in her voice I had seldom heard there before.
"I am going back to where I came from," she said simply.
"But Helga," I said, turning to her, confused. "You came from the west. This is the eastern sea."
She smiled, looking more tired than I had ever seen her be.
"No," she said to me, rather wistfully, her eyes still staring out to the horizon. "I lived there for but a short time, as I have lived here. My people are a traveling people, always on the move. Their home is on the sea. That is where my people come from." She pointed out off the high crest, far into the distance. I could see no land on the horizon, only the ever-rolling waters.
* * * *
She left us not long after that, across the land to the north east. In earlier years, I would have pleaded with her to stay, but somehow now I knew it was time. The fellowship of the founders was dissolving – it had been from the moment Ophelia had been felled. And nothing could stop it. We would continue to grow old, the earth would continue to spin, babies would be born, the elderly would die. I had grown tired of my forays into the future. I was content to remain in the moment, where I belonged. The only vestiges of my travels through time were the dreams. No longer did I travel within them, I merely lay there, watching the clear blue sky, watching the lone raven that circled overhead, a part of me deeper than I could ever explain. He taunted me, cried out to me, a symbol of a harsh pastime that is not so easily set aside."Where have you gone, friend?" he would ask. "Do you forget old companions so readily? Come, fly away with me!"
Finally, after thousands of nights of torment, I broke, and cried out after him. "Leave me foul spirit!"
He gazed at me, his dark eyes boring into my light ones. "Have you forgotten, Rowena of Ravenwood? You cannot escape your birthright. One day… one day, I will return, and then you will fly away with me. But for now I leave you – with only this reminder." And with that, he swooped down at me.
I knew what he had planned before he reached me, felt his talons tear into my skin when he was still feet away. I raised my arms to shield my face, but I was not quick enough. With an angry cry, and a flash of silver in his beak, he reached out, claws scratching my face, before wheeling off with an angry caw, and flying away out of my sight.
I sat up in bed, breathing heavily, and put a hand to my face. When I drew it away, there was blood on my fingertips.
I stepped across the room to my basin to examine the damage. The cut was deep, running along my cheek bone, from my hairline all the way to my mouth. With my wand, I stopped the bleeding, and fell back to bed, into the first peaceful sleep I'd had in years.
The next morning I heard gasps as I entered the Great Hall, but I kept walking, straight up to my seat at the high table. Godric turned to me, frowning, and opened his mouth to ask me what had happened, but I interrupted him.
"I have decided," I said, loud enough for all to hear, "to change the name of my house." There was a murmur of voices. I raised mine. "From this day forward, the house of Ravenwood will be called Ravenclaw." With this, I sat, turning to Godric.
"You said long ago, that the name lacked something. You even changed the symbol without my permission. Now I know why. They are wicked creatures…"
"Rowena," he began, but I raised a hand for silence once more.
"Wonderful, and yet wicked. The name needed to be changed to reflect their dual nature, the other edge of the sword. Ravenclaw," I said, raising my hand to my cheek, "reflects that. There is pain in knowledge."
He raised his brows. "May I speak now?"
I nodded curtly.
"Your hair looks lovely today. I haven't seen it down in years."
My mouth fell open, and my hands flew to my hair as I realized I had not bothered to put it up today. Strands fell across my face. I must have looked like a mad woman. Hastily, I tried to smooth it down and push it back. Godric only gave me that funny smile, and went back to his breakfast.
The older you get, as I believe I have told you, the faster time passes. So it was at the end of the age of Godric of Gryffindor. The years had passed steadily, with my daughter growing up, and Godric's son. They had recently finished their schooling at Hogwarts. Llewellyn had decided to make his fame out in the world, and had gone off like Brock before him, but Brenna decided to stay at my side. She became a teacher, far better and more patient than I had ever been. She was kind, gentle, lovely. And she had loved – many times. My faults had been made right in her.
I had never revealed to her the identity of her father, never let her know that she was the rightful heir to the now debated throne of Britannia. Even if she had known, she would not have taken it – she was a Caledonian at heart, having lived there since her fourth year. And yet, she was everything a princess should be – gracious, beautiful. She walked with a certain air that can only be born of two things – royal blood, and true courage. Her hair was indeed dark as a raven's wing, as the nurse had prophesized, and yet she was far more beautiful than I had ever been – her face had a noble shape, and her features were fine, yet firmly set. Her grey eyes rested upon things and people, seeing them for what they truly were.
She had also inherited the gift, the curse. She did not talk to me of it, for she knew it upset me, but I could tell. In her eyes, I saw the knowledge, the sleepless nights. I wept for her behind closed doors.
But I delay in finishing my story. Perhaps I do not want it to end or perhaps I do not mind continuing because I know it is a story that is ever-present. Time is a relative thing to those who have walked its roads, known it from within, seen it's structure. But to the rest of the world, time is the great destroyer, the beginning and the end.
So it was with Gryffindor. His eyes wandered to the far-away hills. Perhaps he heard his Genevieve singing in them, I cannot say for certain. But the day came when he visited me, asking me if I wanted to walk with him one last time, as we had in the hills of Cambria long ago. So, silently, I followed him down to the lake. We had passed the edge of the forest, sheltered between the shore and the shade of the trees, when he spoke.
"Rowena," came his voice, slightly troubled, but full of thought, "I will be leaving soon."
I glanced up at him, only mildly surprised. I had been expecting something of this sort to happen for ages. We resumed our steps. I began to sing softly –
"Somewhere across the rocky land,
Where heather overturns the sand;
Between the rivers and the lakes…"
He stopped his walk, and reached for my hand, encasing it in his own. I turned, looking him in the eye this time. "You asked me, many years back if I had ever been in love."
He nodded, drawing closer. "I remember it."
"You asked me again, not so many years ago, if I thought it possible to love more than once."
"I remember your answer well."
I gazed at him, refusing to break from his dark eyes. "I said to you then that I have loved only once. This still holds true. I have known only one true love in my life, so I say to you now, Godric of Gryffindor, I do not know. If there is only one thing in this world that I cannot study, it is love, and how to be loved in return. I have never shared true love."
His eyes searched mine, looking for answers he believed me to hide there. But there were no answers, not this time. For once in my life, I was a child, who did not know.
His fingers gently traced my raven scar. I shuddered, but not in pain or disgust. He gently cradled my face in his hands, and lowered his face to mine. It was not a beautiful kiss, not a pure and holy one like others that have been described in this tale, nor one that was recalled years hence, but it was a passionate one. It was the kiss that defined my world and brought me peace at last.
He broke away as gently as he had come, and I knew it was for the first and last time. He knelt and took my hand, kissing the back of it gently. "Milady." Then he stood. I noticed that he wore the clothes he had worn when we had set him on his funereal float, his ruby encrusted sword at his hip, his staff in his hand. I reached deep into my pouch, searching for a token to guide him on his journey. My fingers clasped around a cold metal disk. I drew it from the purse. It was the lone silver earring, the partner of the one that had gone before, into time with the raven. I pressed it into his hand.
"Fare-thee-well, Godric."
And then he was gone.
I could have begged him to stay, but knowing that he would refuse, I did not. The time had come for him to leave me. And yet, he would remain with me always, like those who had gone before. The moment was – as all moments are – eternal.