Disclaimer: Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.
A/N: On time again! Though once more, it was a close miss.
On this chapter… things sour even more for our friends at Hogwarts - what can be done? Also, this chapter does a big leap in time - a few years. The ages of the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw children should clue you in.
One other thing. This chapter has another death in it. While I can guess that you grow tired of deaths in this story, I have to remind you that time is running away in this tale - months and years passing in a single chapter, and that many of the characters playing part here are not as young as they sometimes seem. Let me just reassure you, and tell you that this death is not plot-driven, but a closure to someone's only partially told story - so please don't be sad.
Again, dark, emotion-filled chapter, and a bit shorter than usual at that, but I hope you will enjoy it all the same.
Chapter 24 – Never Together
"While we do not know what had caused Salazar to finally snap after all those years and leave the school, we may presume that in part it had to do with the gradual cooling of relationships between Slytherin and Hufflepuff in the years preceding his departure. Helga Hufflepuff, as one born of Muggle lineage could possibly had represented some sort of forbidden connection that clashed violently with his opinions on those of Muggle descent.
"Though records are scarce, we know that Helga and Salazar had had many an argument over the last few years of the four's joint heading of the school and that more often than not Godric had supported Helga, causing a deep rift between the former friends. It is to be questioned then, how it is that Slytherin had agreed to the partnership to begin with, knowing full-well that Helga Hufflepuff was born to Muggles…"
-Hogwarts, A History; Author Unknown
It had been a very long day. Helga was extremely tired and she wanted nothing better than to go to her quarters and spend a pleasant evening with Ilar and the children. Rhian and Heddwyn were getting so big now, and with Rhian running all over the place, not to speak of wreaking havoc around the rooms with Ceri, who was already six and just as overactive as her older brother, who, at eight, leaned in the direction of practical jokes, leaving two very exasperated parents to fix the mess he had caused every time anew. Sometimes she did not know how Godric and Rowena managed those two balls of energy.
And so, even though she wanted to go and be with her family, there was still one more thing she needed to do before turning in for the night, and she was less than enthusiastic to do it.
Therefore evening found her pacing before the door to Rowena and Godric's quarters, unable to make herself go in and face her friend. She simply could not do it. It would ruin the older woman. She just knew it would. Rowena was such a sensitive person, even though she hid it well most of the time. She would be so hurt to hear her news. Helga was sure of it.
She just did not know how to tell Rowena that she and Ilar were expecting a third child.
For the first couple of months she managed to hide it from her friend, but soon enough she would start showing and it would become clear that she was no longer nursing little Heddwyn. She had seen the hidden pain in her friend's eyes when the midwife had informed them all that it had been another clean and easy birth and that Helga should not have any problems being with child again - in fact, that in the health state she was in, she could probably conceive many more times. She did not want to open that gaping wound in Rowena's heart once more. She just could not do it.
Her greatest fear, she had to admit, more than losing Rowena's friendship, was that the stubborn woman would attempt having another child against all warnings, and that it would kill her. Helga remembered only too well the loud fights Rowena used to have with Godric after Ceri had been born. They all ended with Rowena crying in Godric's arms. Seeing those memories again, her determination to share her news with Rowena faltered, but she knew it had to be done. She wanted no ill feelings between the two of them, not after what she could see was happening for the past few years between Godric and Salazar - once great friends, and now begrudging companions.
And so, taking a deep, steadying breath, she gingerly opened the door to the quarters behind. Normally she would have knocked to alert them of her arrival, but this time she was too nervous for simple acts of civility. The main chamber was empty, but she knew that at this time of day, when she had free time, Rowena opted to bring her children into her cosy drawing room, where the setting sun hit the windows and brought golden light into the room.
As expected, she indeed found the other woman in there, sitting on the hearthrug in front of the fire, using her time off to play a game of throwing a ball of tied rags with Ryan and Ceri. Though she often said that the children were perhaps getting too old for these games, the two were simply delighted in spending a bit of time with their mother that she could not help but agree to play with them.
"Hello, Raven," Helga said with false cheerfulness as she entered the room. "Enjoying your afternoon?"
"Very much. Play without me for a while," Rowena said, throwing the round object to Ryan, and then, taking her seat on a padded chair, looked up quizzically at Helga. "What's bothering you so much? You've been acting shifty for a while now."
Helga winced. She did not know she was being so transparent. Rowena was waiting, the children playing by themselves as told for a change. Taking a deep, rattling breath, she looked down at her feet and rushed it out. "I'm with child. Two months now." She did not dare looking up at Rowena.
Her friend sighed. It was a sad, mourning sigh and Helga realized that she had accepted the situation. "I thought it would be that. It's the only subject you're afraid of discussing with me. Do you think it would be a boy again?"
Surprised, Helga looked up to meet Rowena's sad smile.
"I got over it a long time ago, Helga," she said softly, in a voice that would not carry all the way to her children. "I have two wonderful - if energetic - children, and a wonderful man who loves me with all his heart. I would be lying if I was to tell you that I do not regret not having more children, but I am not going to kill myself over it. You need not worry. This is the reason behind your hesitation, is it not?"
Helga's eyes widened. It always perplexed her that Rowena could read people so easily. In fact, it was much more than perplexing. It was practically frightening. She never could get the knack of it. Seeing that Rowena was waiting for her to confirm her question, she gave her a twisted smile. "You know you're right, Raven. So, I was wrong?"
As Rowena nodded, Helga felt a wave of relief coursing through her body. Now she could share everything with her friend without remorse or fear. Now grinning widely, she settled down on a chair opposite of Rowena and said "I think it'd be a boy again - but don't tell Ilar. I don't want him to develop expectations so soon…"
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After getting over the excitement of having yet another baby, Helga started once again to notice that things were not as they should be at Hogwarts Castle. The relationship between Godric and Salazar was at a new low. The two could barely stand being at the same room for more than a few minutes, and she had no idea what had happened to make it so.
First she thought it was because Salazar started keeping to himself so much - something which was partly her fault, she knew - but it was more than that. It was as though Salazar had completely changed, and that Godric did not want to see it happen. In his fight to preserve his friend, it became obvious that there was no turning back anymore, and that the more he fought, the worse the rift between them became.
The resentment between the two became so profound, that their students began treating each other more coldly than before. It was as though they attempted to be like their admired teachers, and therefore copied their patterns of behaviour towards each other. And to her it seemed like a huge wall had been erected in the school, cutting it in half. Rowena, too, noticed it, and worriedly tried to speak with both her husband and Salazar, receiving nothing but indifferent shrugs for all her efforts. The two did not even try mending their friendship anymore, and the two women could do nothing but watch helplessly as their growing rivalry tore Hogwarts apart.
It was so gradual at first, that they did not see it coming, and when it did come, it was already too late to stop it. Their dream was slowly falling apart around them and their male counterparts did not seem to care. All they cared about was their growing dislike to one another and who would get the upper hand in every given argument.
"I wonder if things would ever be the same as they were," she told Rowena one day as the women sat in Helga's quarters with Ceri labouring over her letters in the corner.
"What things, Aunt Helga?" the little girl asked, glad of a distraction from her work.
"Oh, things," she said airily, patting her growing body with a smile, though she could see Rowena understood what she meant.
"Go back to work, dear," the auburn-haired woman told her daughter. "Let Aunt Helga and I speak, all right?"
"Yes, Mama," the girl said obediently, but from the snort Rowena gave, and from her own experience, she knew that Ceri was listening closely while pretending to work.
"Things can never return to the way they were," Rowena said. "You know that, Helga. Time is ever-flowing, and there is nothing either of us can do to stem it. Just like our children are growing so quickly on us and our youth dissipates. Where did close to two decades go? Would you go back to what we had then? A boring life in a small house in the Glen? You have to take the good with the bad - no matter how bad it is."
Helga knew all that, and she also knew that she would never have gone back to Caerwyn Valley had she been offered the chance. That chapter in her life had long since closed. She would not have given up what she had now for the world, but still. There were always those regrets that one could not help but have. These were nagging thoughts that would often rear their ugly head and make her think that if she would have done this, then that would not have happened.
She had many of those, and she did not doubt that Rowena had had her share of them as well, but then again, her friend was always better at hiding things - sometimes, anyway. She could rarely hide anything from Helga, who had known her longest than anyone else but Rosalind.
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Helga and Ilar's third child was a boy. A golden-haired, blue-eyed boy whom they named Albin, after Helga's brother whom she would never see again. The first time Ceridwen had seen him, she looked from him to his proud grandfather, back to him and back to the beaming Sir Rhys, and then started laughing.
Upon being asked what was so funny, she barely stemmed her laughter long enough to say that "the poor boy is going to get your nose, old friend," and then collapsed, laughing again.
As a peace offering, Helga convinced Ilar to offer the post of male guardian to the brooding Salazar, who, surprised as he was, agreed. Though this act had pacified the fourth Hogwarts headmaster for a while, it was only a temporary thing, and Helga knew it all too well. While he seemed to enjoy playing with the child, there was something in his eyes every time he looked at the boy that made Helga rather uncomfortable. She made sure never to leave Albin alone with him.
Things remained in a standstill for a while. Though Salazar did not change his views on Godric and vice versa, the ill feelings between them did not escalate into a full-out war as a morose Rowena had predicted late into Helga's pregnancy. As a matter of fact, she was just commenting about it and raising the notion that maybe things can be mended between them when one of Rhys' boys, Haul, who had replaced his brother as the family's runner between village and Castle after Ilar's wedding, ran into them, falling to the floor with the force of the impact.
"S…so sorry," he mumbled, picking himself from the floor. Upon seeing who he had bumped into, his expression sobered. "Mistress Ravenclaw," he said in a somber voice. "Your presence is requested at the village - immediately."
"I was just about to retire," Rowena said, frowning. "Is it urgent?"
"Very," Haul mumbled, not quite meeting her eyes. "Please, Mistress Ravenclaw. You must come."
"Very well," Rowena said. "Tell Godric where I've gone?" she then asked Helga.
Helga shook her head. "No. I get the feeling I should come with you - just to be on the safe side, and all."
"Be on the 'safe side'?" Rowena asked in amusement as they followed a twitchy Haul to the village.
"I don't know, 'Wena," she sighed. "I just have a bad feeling about it is all."
It took her less than a second to see that she was right as they entered Sir Rhys' house and saw the somber faces of all the people in there. Most of them were Knights of the Phoenix, but many were women from the village, whose eyes filled with tears upon seeing Rowena entering the house. Without allowing said woman time to digest what was going on, Haul led them to the room where Helga knew Rosalind resided ever since coming to the village. Her heart fell. It did not look good.
Rosalind was in her bed when they entered, her long-since white hair flowing free of its usual bindings, framing her frail face. She looked so weak that Helga felt like crying. She looked nothing like the Rosalind who had practically brought her up. Then, however, at seeing the two women entering her room, she smiled, and the smile lit her tired face, making her look more like herself.
"Hello, my darlings," she greeted them, spreading her hands out for them to come near.
Glancing sideways at Rowena, Helga saw nothing but a closed expression. She could not read her this time. She could not see whether she realized what was going on or not. Either way, Rowena approached her mother and gently kissed her cheek. Helga followed her example, adding as tight a hug as she dared. Rosalind felt so fragile in her arms. Then she took a sit next to Rowena and the two of them watched Rosalind as she appeared to be deep in thought.
"I can see that you both understand why I asked Rowena here," she finally said, and her voice countered her appearance, still strong and clear as it always was. "And I am glad that you have come as well, Helga. Otherwise I would not have been able to say goodbye."
"Mother-" Rowena began, her voice in tight control.
"No, dear," Rosalind stopped her with a brisk movement of her thin hand. "You are not here to talk. Not yet. Let me say my goodbyes properly."
"But, Mother-!"
"Rowena. You knew this day is coming the moment I stepped into the Castle a few years ago. You knew very well that I have come because I wanted to spend the time I planned to have left with you and your family. You knew that I would not leave the house your father had built for us for any other reason; please don't try to deny it."
Helga cast an alarmed look in Rowena's direction. She never thought that was the reason behind Rosalind's arrival, but as she studied her friend's face, she realized that Rosalind spoke true and that Rowena had known all this time. She felt appalled at this, not believing that Rowena had kept this knowledge quite for all this time, showing no emotion, showing no sign that she did.
"My lovely daughter," Rosalind continued gently. "I only stayed long enough to see both you and my dear Helga settled for good with families of your own and men who would care for you just as my Ryan had taken care of me. I miss him so terribly, Rowena, you must see that." And at that Helga was surprised to hear Rosalind's voice crack. This was one of the strongest women she had ever known, and she could not believe how well she had disguised her pain at losing her beloved husband who had sacrificed so much for her and who had died undeservingly by the hands of Helga's own village's people.
"I know," Rowena whispered. "I don't want you to go."
Rosalind smiled again and reached for her daughter, who, unresistingly, allowed her to pull her from the chair and into her mother's arms. "I know you don't want to say goodbye, love, but this is how life goes, and you know it - better than most, I would say. You have gone through so much, but you have a caring man who loves you at your disposal. Please let me go and see mine once again. Please, Rowena. I could not go peacefully without knowing that you will forgive me this selfish choice."
Rowena buried her face in her mother's shoulder, her arms involuntarily hugging the old woman. "I don't want you to go, Mama," she said again, this time reverting to that childhood appellation.
Rosalind stroked her hair and looked at Helga sadly.
Helga did not know how long they had sat there, Rosalind patting Rowena's head, and she looking at them, but finally Rowena rose, and, still hugging her mother with one arm, recomposed herself and, wiping her tears, said "I know you want to go, Mama, and though I don't want you to go, there's nothing I can do to stop it, now can I? Tell Father that I miss him?"
"I will, love. I promise you that I will."
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It was a sad day in the Castle and in the village. Madam Rosalind Ravenclaw, distinguished researcher in the community, mother, grandmother and beloved friend, had died in her daughter's arms. It was a tragedy to many of those who had learned to know her in her short stay at the Loch and the Knights who had known her when she had been a young woman, but not at all unexpected. She had often said that she was glad having seen the end of the person who was responsible for her husband's death and that her life was now complete.
As she was committed to the ground, many people had gathered around the freshly dug grave. People from all over the Isles came to wish her a final farewell. There were so many people there who had never met her, but had heard her name spoken so many times over the years in context to Hogwarts and the fables Knights of the Phoenix and their leader, Raven Lord. The still-living Knights of the Phoenix streamed into the Loch to say their farewells to the woman they had known so well and respected so much.
Helga stood by the other Hogwarts residents and while she had her own pain to contend with, she was more worried about Rowena. Her friend was standing beside Godric, one of her hands clutching his hand in a rather painful fashion it appeared, and the other was tightly holding unto Ceri's shoulder. The little girl was holding on to her mother's skirt and to her brother's hand. Three of the four had tears in their eyes. Rowena's eyes were dry and empty. Her expression was vacant as well, as she watched the fresh grave being filled. She had not cried since Rosalind died the day before. She had not said anything, and it was worrying Helga very much.
"Shock," Ceridwen whispered that evening, closing the door to the drawing room behind her, meeting the eyes of all those who waited in the main chamber. The concerned friends exchanged glances at that. None of them knew what to do.
Ceridwen was right, Helga sadly surmised. Rowena was so deep into her own world, that nothing could extract her out of it. Her mother's death caught her by surprise and shocked her into this stasis. She just stared ahead now, sitting by the fire in the next room. Not even her children's need to be comforted themselves could stir her anymore. It was so unlike her, and no one knew how to snap her out of this state. They were afraid for her, but she would not let them help.
The next couple of weeks were hard on the small family of the Founders. It was hard to function without Rowena, for she was responsible for all the small, technical details that made the place tick. None of them had noticed how this had happened, but it did. She was just best at it, and so they left it to her, not realizing how dependent they were on her. It even got to a point where Godric and Salazar got over their differences and worked together in their attempts to get Rowena out of the protective shell she had gotten herself into.
As for Helga, she knew better than to interfere. Aside of the fact that she was confident that Rowena would pull out on her own, she thought it was good for the two friends to renew their old relationship and mend the problems of the past. She realized that she may be a little too optimistic about it, but she could not help it, seeing how friendly they were to each other when in Rowena' presence.
That was not to say that she was not worried for her friend. Rowena barely ate anything during that time, and each time she came by to visit the older woman looked thinner and paler. She also spent most her time in bed, staring at the ceiling aimlessly. She did not read and she did not talk. She did not do anything but look with tired, puffy eyes as they all tried their best to make her feel better.
Then, late one evening, Helga and Ilar made their way to Rowena and Godric's quarters. They were already at the door when Helga heard Rowena's voice ringing in the room beyond.
"What do you mean you haven't practiced your letters? Ceri, you know how important this is to me! How could you neglect it so? Come now, I'll help you with it. Were did you find trouble?"
Exchanging glances with her husband, Helga smiled. It sounded like Rowena was back to her former self. She sounded so confident and calm. Knocking softly on the door, she found herself face to face with a grinning Godric.
"I see that she pulled out on her own," she said lightly. "Just as I said she would."
"You were right," he said, not even bothering to mask his delight. "She just got out of bed an hour ago and started berating Ryan for eating sloppily again and now started on Ceri and her letters. Come in, come in."
He let them in, and the first thing Helga noted upon entering, was that Rowena, though still drawn and pale, looked more like herself again, passionate about teaching and impatient as ever. She was sitting with Ceri by the fire, writing on a piece of parchment and showing her what she did wrong. When she heard Helga's footsteps, she looked up and gave her a sad sort of smile.
"I'm all right," she told her without Helga needing to ask. "I'm all right."
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When the year started, there were two more Muggle-born children who had arrived at the Castle. They were the first to arrive ever since Godric's ill-fated journey to the land south of the Castle and the sad results it had caused, bringing his and Salazar's relationship to where it was now. They were shy and timid, unsure of where they had arrived. Helga, compassionate and friendly as she was, hurried to greet them before the rest would, and did her best to reassure them that they would have the time of their lives in Hogwarts.
This, of course, would probably have gone much better were it not for Salazar. The tall, dark man looked once at the children, realized that they were not of magic blood and without a word turned his back on them and strode off, an unpleasant sneer on his thin face.
Helga could not believe him. Even though she knew his views on the matter of Muggles as a whole and Muggle-born students in particular, she could not believe the way he had acted, so cold and aloof. He was so horrible to them, conveying in one, disgusted look how much he despised them. And they were so young. They did not deserve to be treated that way - condemned even before they had had the chance to prove themselves.
Determined, she asked Salazar later that day if he would meet her that evening at their sitting room on the ground floor, then asking Rowena to keep away and take Godric with her. She did not need audience for what she had in mind.
And so, that evening, with baby Albin in her arms, for he was still too young to be left alone with only his father, she waited at the sitting room, anxiously hoping that Salazar would keep his word and come as promised. He did not disappoint her.
"Evening," he said civilly, though she could see that familiar unpleasant emotion passing in his eyes as he glanced at the golden-haired boy in her arms. She tightened her grip on her child, afraid of what it might mean. It had been a long time since she last could read Salazar's mind easily. He was a closed book to her nowadays, and she was scared of what it could mean.
"Good evening, Salazar," she returned, gesturing him to take a seat. When he did, she immediately started talking, not giving him a moment to stop her. "I asked you here because I wanted to tell you that your behaviour this morning was entirely unacceptable. These are children you behaved so condescendingly to and they did not deserve it from anyone, let alone you. They were afraid, Salazar - do you even remember what it is like to be this afraid. They are strangers in an unknown place, and you just made it worse with your entire manner. I will not have it! Your group may be your business and you can decide that you don't want Muggle children in there, but you have no right to act that way towards them just because you are so prejudiced! I will not let you do this! Not to them and not to yourself!"
For a while he regarded her from under lowered eyelashes, but from what she could see, he was far from pleased, and on the verge of being very, very angry. Then he raised his eyes and what she could see in them frightened her more than everything Ambrosius had put them all through years before. They were devoid of emotion. They were empty and cold. When he spoke, it was in a tone that mirrored anger and even hate. "What I do and do not do, is none of your business," he said. "You will never be able to understand just how much I hate Muggles and the offspring they spawn with magic in them. It is abnormal and should be eradicated from the face of this earth.
"They are here against my will and I would do all in my power to make them run away from this place never to return. They have no place here and no right to attend this school. They should be left for their precious Muggles and burn at the stake for all I care. They are filthy little Muggles and that's all they'll ever amount to be! Do you understand that, Helga? Do you?"
"How can you say that when I am one of them," she seethed.
"I tried to tell you once that you were different," he growled, all control of emotion gone. "I tried to tell you that - but you threw it in my face! That was the worst thing you could have done, as far as I was concerned - and you had done it! That has confirmed all my worst suspicions of the Muggle race and solidified my opinion that all those of them who attempt to penetrate our society should be rid of immediately!"
"You were never this way when we were young!" she shrieked, holding her youngest child close to her breast protectively and getting up from her chair. "What kind of foolishness it this!"
"How dare you call me foolish!" Salazar spat. "I would have given you everything, Helga! I would have loved you more than anything! You could have been my queen and have had my eternal love!"
"You never said! You never said a thing! You said you didn't love me! We agreed that it would be better for us to remain friends! You pushed me away! You practically threw me into Ilar's arms! I loved you, Salazar, but you were the one to keep away!"
"If you loved me then you wouldn't have agreed!"
"I thought that would have made you happy! But now I see that I was wrong - you turned into a bitter man who takes his frustrations out on those poor Muggle-born children! Well, guess what, Salazar Slytherin! I'm happy with Ilar and I hate you!" Her baby started wailing and she turned away.
"You are, are you?" he hissed, so close behind her that she was almost surprised they were not touching. "Happy being that swine's wife and spouting his spawn every other year? Well, then. You deserve that, Helga. You could have had the world and this is what you have chosen. Think of it when you are old, fat and wrinkled, and your husband starts looking at other women, because you are like an old, stretched hag. Think of it then, and remember all that you could have had."
She heard him striding away and the door slamming closed behind him. Only then did she sit back down heavily, holding tightly to the crying Albin and feeling the tears falling down her own cheeks, mingling with those of her son.
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After her confrontation with Salazar, Helga started noticing that her former lover's behaviour towards those of Muggle heritage became worse than ever. In classes she heard from her students of how he ignored the Muggle children, how he ridiculed them when they gave the wrong answers and how harshly he punished them when he decided they were not listening in class.
When they passed him in the corridors of the Castle he would sneer at them or say harsh words. There was no compassion left in him, not a single word of praise or encouragement to those he deemed unworthy. More often than not she and the other two had talked to their Muggle-born students and heard of how badly they were maltreated by Salazar. All of them attempted to talk with him again and again, but to no avail. He denied targeting those children and said that he treated all his students the same, but as the months went by things became more serious, until the time that they could no longer be ignored or excused.
It was a fine day near the end of the year, and most of the students were outside, enjoying the afternoon sun. As Helga walked back inside, she could hear boys' enthusiastic cries and the bang of wooden swords slamming together, which told her that Godric had taken his class to practice outside. They had left the children at their grandfather's in the village for the week, and she was sure that Rhian was driving Ceridwen mad by now, and so she was determined to find Ilar and spend the rest of the day with him. It had been a long time since last they had had some time alone.
Her plans were foiled however. Just as soon as she stepped away from the main staircase, she heard the echoes of someone crying. Alarmed, she followed the desperate sounds of a child's sobs until she found the one emitting them.
She was one of the older Muggle-born students, from the country south of there. She was under Helga's care, and a good, cheerful girl usually. She was a good student, hard-working and obedient, and she had many friends amongst the other students. Now, however, she was curled into a ball at the corner of a small room, her long black hair a ruffled mess unlike its normal sleek condition, and her arms hugging her body tightly.
Helga frowned at seeing her. She knew it could not be a coincidence that the Muggle-born girl was like this. Not after the previous cases.
"What is the matter, Blanid?" she asked the crying girl gently, kneeling beside her and smoothing her hair with a soft hand. "Are you hurt? Let me see." She did not really need to ask. She had known that Blanid was hurt the moment she had seen her. She just did not know how and to what extent.
Not meeting her eyes, the thin girl stretched out both her arms, showing her the angry welts on her forearm, and then, picking up her head, she showed her the ones on her neck as well. Helga had no difficulty recognizing the hex that had been used against the child. Smiling for Blanid's benefit, she tapped her wand against the arms and neck and muttered the anti-hex.
"There," she said in a light voice, feeling anything but reassuring. "All better now, isn't it? Now, Blanid dear, can you tell me who had done this to you?" Though she felt it would be better to have proof of her suspicions, she was preparing herself to hear the worst.
"A boy," the girl said in a weak, almost unheard voice.
"Yes, a boy?" Helga repeated, uncharacteristic impatience crawling into her voice.
"From Slytherin," Blanid finished and then buried her head in Helga's gown, her tears falling again.
Helga comforted the girl, but was glad that she hid her face, for were she to see her Headmistress' expression, she probably would have run away. Helga Hufflepuff was angry. More than that, she was ready to kill. This was the fourth event in two weeks, and every time is was the same. Boys. From Slytherin's group. No one else participated in those hexing excursions. No one else hurt the Muggle-born children. Salazar would have to answer for it, willing or not.
Once the girl was more or less calm, she led her to her group's chambers, all the while with a pleasant expression plastered on her face, then, after giving her one last reassuring smile, turned away, her face a thunderstorm. She would find Salazar and confront him.
It was difficult to find Salazar these days. He became more and more reclusive and secretive as the years had passed. Sometimes Helga could have sworn that he was not in the Castle even when he said he was. He was going places, doing things, and not sharing it with the other three. She was afraid of what it might mean, but did not tell it to Rowena, who was now Salazar's confidant more than the rest of them and though she was angry Helga knew he truly needed one, nor did she share it with Godric, who now had a gaping chasm between himself and his once best friend. Salazar was slipping through their fingers, and she was not even sure why.
After searching the Castle far and wide, she finally found him next to the shore of the lake, walking hither and thither with no apparent direction or meaning, his hands deep within the sleeves of his robe and his face blank.
"Good afternoon, Salazar," she said in a voice that was colder and stiffer than she had first meant, stopping a few paces away from him. Once the words had left her mouth, however, she did not regret it. He deserved a cold treatment for all that he had caused - knowingly or not. And whether it was knowingly, she was now going to find out.
"Helga," he acknowledged in the same cool tone he addressed them all in these days. Ever since they had stopped being together, about five years before, their easy friendship had deteriorated into wary acquaintance and mere politeness. They rarely talked anymore. It became even worse after he had revealed to her a few months before that he really did love her and was too much of a fool to tell her that before she had married Ilar. It hurt. It hurt a lot to know that he had lied to her all those years ago, and just because of his cowardice. She had lost him because he could not tell her the truth and because she was too much of a blind woman to notice that he was telling lies. "What can I do for you?"
The indifferent mannerism set her anger back in place, all her hurt fueling it into a roaring rage. "What can you do for me? I'll tell you what you can do for me," she growled. "You can put a stop to what your students are doing in the school!"
"What are my students doing?" he asked mildly, though the glint in his eyes told her that he knew very well what had happened. "They are students. They study and learn and play like your students, or Rowena's or Godric's. They are children. Let children be children."
"Let - are you a madman, Salazar? You know perfectly well that this is not what they are doing," she burst, glad that there was no one around on this strip of pebbled shore to see her losing her grip on her temper. "It is your stupid view of the world that fuels them and you know it!"
"I am sure I don't know what you are talking about," he said, but this time she was certain she did not imagine the manic glint in his dark eyes. She felt the first buds of fear appearing deep inside her. What was wrong with him? Where was the sweet, dear man she had known all those years? Had it only been a façade all this time? Or was this the mask? She did not know what was happening with him anymore, and it made her afraid. Very afraid.
She could not let it go, however. There were children being hurt over nothing, and this tall man before her was the one who had ignited it all. "They're harming those of Muggle blood, Salazar!" she hissed, for the first time in a very long while meeting the man's eyes, feeling defiant. She would not take it lying down. She will stand firm and show him how wrong she found his actions to be. "Your students are hexing those poor children, and you know it! They curse them in the corridors! The trip them, hit them and call them names! I want this to stop and I want it to stop now."
"I don't know what you're talking about," he repeated coldly. "I never told my students to attack other students and that's the truth. I have nothing to do with it." With that he turned away from her and started walking down the shore again.
"But they are your students - they are your responsibility!" she angrily cried after him. "Put a bridle on them if you have to, but stop them from harming others!"
He stopped, his back rigid, his shoulder pulled back, his hair flowing in the wind. He looked so wild now. So lost in his own darkness of the mind. He was lost to everything and everyone he had known. Then, he said in a clear voice that reached her ears even through the rising howl of nonexistent wind around them "Ah. But then, why should I stop something that I wholly agree with, Helga? They have no place there, and my students can see it. I am not going to put a stop to it. It is all for the best." Then he went on walking, his long, lean figure dark against the somber shore.
Behind him, she still stood, her fists clenching and tears flashing in her eyes.
Ve-ell… 'nother chapter gone, six more plus epilogue to go. As I said at the beginning, Rosalind's death was not plot-driven but a way to put to rest a sad, tortured soul who had lost so much. I probably find it much less sad than a lot of people, but, then again, I know the entire story. I hope you liked this chapter all the same.
I thought it might be a bit rushed, but it was supposed to bring things to a head, because the greatest catastrophe is coming, and there's no way to stop it…
Hugs and kisses to everyone!
- Star of the North