Disclaimer: Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.
A/N: Oops. This is Star of the North thinking of hitting her head against the wall in shame. In last chapter's A/N I said that the five chapters countdown starts with Ch. 25. Truth is, it starts now. 26, 27, 28, 29, 30. See how foolish that mistake was? So anyway, five last chapters countdown startsssss…. Now!
So, anyhoo, last update I also forgot to wish all my readers very happy holidays (whichever you celebrate) - so, there! I hope you are having fun!
I hope that the jump in years in this chapter will not be too much for you all - but let me know if it was all right, k?
In this chapter: lots of angst and tears… hope you like!
On a side note: 1. On Sunday I am going to upload the first chapter of my revised The Story of Four Friends. If any of you have read it before, then I hope you will also try the revised version. If anyone who hasn't read the old version (still on the site until I put the revised one up, but I suggest you wait 'til Sunday) is interested, it is a Marauders' fic, told mostly from Remus' PoV, leading all the way from Sep 1, 1971, to Oct 31,1981.
2. Would anyone be interested in reading the story of the founders' parents? You know - the background: Raven Lord, Rosalind, Lords Gryffindor and Slytherin, Ceridwen, the Order of the Knights of the Phoenix and all that? It's just that I've been thinking about it, and if people are interested, then I might just write it… do tell me what you think.
Enjoy!
Chapter 26 – Broken Dreams
"Why do tragedies happen? It is a question asked by many. Sadly, none of those living has an answer to that, and most likely we would never have it. It is one of those things that happen, an integral part of the course of life. An axiom if you would like.
"Salazar Slytherin had left the school. It had been a great loss and a great tragedy to many, though they would never have admitted it. He had left the school with anger in his heart and resentment to all. All that is important, however, is that he had left, and behind him the school remained. Incomplete, broken, one of its four pillars felled…"
- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown
"I don't understand!" Rowena cried, trying to be heard over the two men's roars. "Godric! Salazar! What has gotten into you!" Only ten minutes before she was having an in-depth discussion with her seventh year class about the moralities of using certain charms in a real battle and then a small third year boy burst into the room in actual tears, saying that Headmasters Gryffindor and Slytherin were about ready to kill each other. She had raced there and found them at each other's throats.
It had been imminent in coming. The two friends were on edge for months now, snapping at each other, giving out snide remarks and having loud arguments over nothing. It had been coming for years, if she was honest with herself. But this… this was far worse than anything she could have imagined. The child was not wrong. They looked ready to kill.
"I will have no more of this in my school!"
"Oh, so it's your school now, is it? Not our school - yours!"
"You twist my words-"
"This is our school as well as yours, Salazar! You have been overruled and you know it! You've been festering this within you for years now! Why don't you take it in stride and swallow your infernal pride-"
"Oh, so it's me with the overused pride now? Me? You are the one who always jumps into the fray without a second thought and all because of your hell-damned pride! Who do you think is always described as too proud? You! Not me!"
"Well, I do not stop seeing sense because of my pride! You are ruining the school with your words, your curses, your evil!"
"So I'm evil now! Now you put me in league with those dallying in the Dark Arts - it is good to know, Godric, very nice to hear you say that!"
"You know that's not what I meant, Salazar! You have even turned the students against one other! Fighting in the halls! Hexing Muggle-born students! You have created this madness, you fool!"
Godric had a point there. The only students hexing Muggle born children were those in Salazar's House, and Rowena, for all her love to her friend, could not excuse that. There was good reason for it, and that was Salazar's prejudice against those of Muggle heritage. While Helga, Godric and herself made sure that their House students would accept the Muggle-born among them, Salazar did not bother hide his distaste to them all and his students, adoring him, followed his lead.
"Those meddlesome brats are corrupting our society - and we're giving them the tools to do so!" Salazar roared, voicing his opinion for the whole school to hear, for now the entire student body, following the sounds of shouting, gathered all about, peeking through doors, standing on the staircase, their faces scared. Some of the younger children looked about to cry. Some did. "Soon enough they will destroy us! There will no longer be a magic community! Only Muggles and those byproducts they have spawned!"
"You are such a pig! That should have been your symbol! A pig with no consideration to no one at all! They are magic - just like us! For Merlin sake's, man! Helga was born to Muggle parents and see how powerful she is! You didn't use to mind her parentage while you were with her, did you? You didn't mind it as long as she gave you her favours!"
In that instant, Rowena knew her husband had gone too far. The silence that followed was the most ominous one she had ever heard. Around them the students held their breaths. Not a sound was uttered as they all watched the exchanged, frozen. Salazar's mouth thinned into a white crack in his chiseled, longish face, his eyes narrowed and he seemed to tower over Godric. He looked menacing. Suddenly he was no longer the good man she had known for all those years, the guardian of her children, her friend.
"You were always a rash, stupid man, Gryffindor," he hissed in anger, his dark eyes shooting sparks. "It will one day destroy you, and I would like to see that, be there when it happens."
"Your arrogance will be the end of you, Slytherin," Godric replied, the hate in his voice equal to that in Salazar's. "I wish you will suffer for the rest of your life, knowing that you have ruined all good around you."
With those parting words, the two former friends turned their backs on each other and each strode out of the hall in opposite directions, the eyes of the entire student body following them. For a moment Rowena stood still, her mind racing, trying to decided on whether she needed to follow Salazar and try reconciling him, or go after her husband and calm him, begging that he would ask for Salazar's forgiveness.
Later, she would blame herself for choosing the wrong path. Later, she would think it could all have turned out right. That would be later. Now she made her choice, and there was no going back.
She ran after Godric.
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How could he? Dear Merlin, how can he?
As she was standing by Helga on the front steps of Hogwarts, putting a comforting arm around the sobbing woman, Rowena could think nothing else. These thoughts ran over and over in her mind - tumbling, whirling, confusing - and while Helga was crying bitterly, her face contorted, Rowena's own face was blank of emotion. She could not say anything. She could not feel.
Godric was nowhere in sight.
She knew all-too-well where he was hiding. He had locked himself in his study and refused to come out, even when Helga came by, crying, saying that Salazar was packing his things. She had attempted to coax him into getting out, apologizing to Salazar, trying to amend things with him, even for a little before they could sit down and talk like civilized people, see how they could resolve their differences. She had tried to beg him to put a stop to it - prevent Salazar from leaving. It had all been in vain.
"Leave me be!" he had roared as she tried tugging him into a stop that afternoon when she had finally caught up with him. "I will not exchange another word with that scoundrel."
Later, when he had already locked himself in the study, she had pleaded with him, but his words were harsh and she had given up, defeated. And then Helga had arrived and they had left Godric there, going to try and convince Salazar to stay.
They had failed.
She felt so numb, so helpless, as she watched his distant figure riding away. Over twenty years of friendship, ending like that, in hatred and resentment. After all they have been through, after all the trials they had lived through, after everything - how could he just leave?
She felt a single tear escaping her tight control, sliding down her cheek. She could not allow her control to break. Not just yet. If only for Helga's sake. She could not fall into pieces. The school now hung on a thread, uncertain, its fate unclear. One of the four founders of the fabled establishment has left it. The stout four pillars that were the basis of the school were now three, and everything tittered on the brink of utter destruction and chaos. Godric isolated himself and Helga was broken. It all depended on her. Somehow, she had to pull them all through.
How she wished now that her own mother was there to help her. She always knew what to do. She always was in control of every situation. But that great lady was long gone now and she was left alone to handle Hogwarts. Ceridwen would not be able to help her this time; she did not know anything about running a school. She was alone. So completely alone.
Damming her tears, she gently squeezed her friend's shoulder and with light pressure to her arm, started steering her in the direction of her quarters. She registered children standing in various corridors of the Castle, all silently watching them go by. She knew that they all wondered what would happen now. She wished she could give them an answer. She wished she could comfort them. But how could she, when she could not even find comfort herself? Her mind was teeming with unanswered questions, half-formed ideas and mostly with a lot of confusion. Her mind refused to work.
Still numb, she finally brought Helga to the door of the quarters she shared with Ilar and all their children. Without even knocking, she opened it and wordlessly handed the almost motionless woman to the waiting arms of Ilar, whose face was sad and understanding. He had known of Helga and Salazar's past relationship and he knew how much the brooding man still meant to his wife, but he was a good man and would take care of Helga, do his best to make the sadness go away.
Nodding at the man, Rowena turned away, her face stony, her mind now set. Hogwarts had do go on, and by Merlin, she would make sure it did. Determinedly, she set her steps back to her quarters.
When she entered the rooms that had been her home and sanctuary for almost twenty years she found Ryan and Ceri sitting in the main chamber, staring mutely at her, holding hands. She knew they would be expecting her, expecting some sort of explanation. She remembered seeing Ceri, standing at the top of the grand staircase, clutching Aiden's arm as she watched her father and uncle fight, the panicked, tear-stained expression on her face. She remembered Ryan, standing motionless by her side as she tried stopping the two men from fighting. What would she tell them? What could she tell her children?
"Not now," she said curtly. "It would have to wait. Is he still in there?"
Ryan nodded, looking upset. Ceri blinked back tears.
With conviction that she did not really feel, she smiled at her children and said "Everything will be all right." It seemed to be enough for the two, for they relaxed considerably. Rowena only wished she could do the same.
Waiting not a moment longer, she tried the door to Godric's study again. This time it was unlocked. Taking a deep breath, she entered, closing the door quietly behind her, not wanting the children to overhear what may or may not transpire between them.
"Godric?"
He did not move when she called. He was standing by the window, his eyes fixed on the distant hills where nothing could be seen. She knew he had been watching. Watching as Salazar left, saying a mournful goodbye to the man who had been his friend, wordlessly, in his heart. Too proud, people often called Godric Gryffindor. And it was true. He was too proud to admit he wished to say farewell, too proud to amend a situation that, while not entirely his fault, only he could put right. If only he had the humility to go to Salazar, everything would have looked different, but she knew her husband too well. And now there was no going back.
"Godric? Please look at me. This is important."
Still he did not turn, but the tiniest of changes in his posture alerted her to the fact that he was listening. It was good enough. If he was willing to listen, he was still aware of his surroundings.
"Godric, Hogwarts must go on. We cannot let our life's work to fall into pieces like that. We worked too hard and too long for everything to be destroyed by this. Helga is broken, and I don't know how well you truly hold, but I can do it. All I want to know is: do you want Hogwarts to go on? Because if you don't… Well, then there is no point in even trying. I can continue while the two of you recuperate, but I would not last long by myself. Are you willing to take the risk? Is there a point in holding Hogwarts open?"
For a while he did not say a thing. She could see he was uneasy, undecided, but unable to see his face, she could not possibly fathom what his decision will be. She did not know how long they both stood there, him staring out of the window, she staring at him, but at long last, he breathed deeply and still without turning, his voice choked, said "Hogwarts must go on."
It was all she needed. Without another word, she left, knowing that Godric would need to face this alone, that there was nothing she could do to help. It hurt her immensely not being able to assist him at such a time of need, but she knew it would hurt him even more were she to try and help.
Too proud, she thought to herself as she prepared herself to explain things to her children. Why does he have to be so damnably proud?
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With the help of the few other teachers who had been brought over the years, Rowena managed to keep Hogwarts going through the rest of that year. It was not easy, to say the least. Suddenly the work of four was thrust on the shoulders of one, and while she no doubt was qualified to do her part of managing of the school, she could not shoulder the entire burden for long. They had to close a few classes, the students had many free hours and were expected to work by themselves, something that did not always work, and the level of some lessons was lower than standard because of teachers who did not know the subject as well as the original teacher. Schedules had to be changed, lesson plans altered. New, qualified teachers had to be found and requested to come for the next year. Someone had to be responsible for Salazar's students.
Strangely enough, soon after Salazar's departure, the chaotic rivalry between the Houses subsided somewhat. Muggle-born students were no longer hexed in the corridors, and other clashes of wills became more and more scarce. The entire school seemed to fall into a stunned daze, the air around it becoming depressed and quiet.
However, it was only for a few months, and even though at the end of that time Rowena was so worn out that she was often on the verge of hysterics, in her speech to the students at the end of the year, she assured them that by the beginning of the next school year, everything would be back to normal. She had no intention to allow Godric and Helga to wallow in their self misery for longer than that, she simply could not handle it alone anymore. She was determined that by the end of the summer months, Hogwarts would be back to its routine, even if she would have to drag her friend and her husband by the hair into their classrooms.
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After all those months of tight control, months where she displayed no emotion, keeping herself strong and solid for the sake of the students while she allowed Godric and Helga time to recover, being their firm rock in a sea of change, it was the sorting ceremony of the new year that had broken Rowena.
They were all sitting there on the raised dais, watching as their aging Ancient Runes teacher called the names of the children about to be sorted, Helga and Godric finally out of their cocoons, interested in what was going on in the school once more, and then she found herself glancing to her side, where Salazar always sat, whispering dry remarks on the various new students, and instead of finding her friend, she found empty space, and across, the matronly face of the new teacher she herself had asked to come and take Salazar's place in the potion brewing class. Without warning, tears flooded her eyes and with a soft apology to her startled husband, she excused herself and hurried into the small antechamber behind the dais, where she allowed herself to break down and cry.
She could not face a sorting ceremony without him there, not yet. Students would still be sorted into the House of Slytherin, but Salazar himself would never again watch it happen. She buried her face in one of the pillows on the divan by the fireplace and allowed all the pent-up emotion she had accumulated throughout the months burst in that flood of tears.
Again, those questions that she had suppressed for so long filled her mind. Doubt and fear that there may have been something she could have done to change it. She could not believe that only a year ago they had all sat laughing after the sorting ceremony, comparing their impressions of the new students, with Ceri and Ryan and Helga's older children making insulted faces at what their parents said of their peers, then laughing on them just as badly. She could not believe that only a year ago everything was still all right, still complete. How could they have let this happen?
How could she have let it happen?
The tears, regret and sorrow surrounded her, choked her, made her wish that she could just lose her consciousness and be happily oblivious to everything. She was the one who could have made the change. She just knew it had always been in her hands. How could she have failed them like that? How could she allow it to go so horribly wrong?
Body-racking sobs escaped her tight control of months, all dams broken. The pillow under her face was soaked with those tears, making her cry even harder, lose what little control she still had. Ever since she was very little she had kept a lid on her emotions. It was only on very rare occasions that she had cried so bitterly, and this time was worse than all those events combined.
It could have been five minutes or even five hours, but some time later, when her tears somewhat subsided, she felt someone sitting by her side on the divan and then gathering her in their arms. She would have recognized those arms anywhere.
And so, Godric held his broken wife in his arms until she could no longer cry, until her grief had finally been allowed to run its course. She would mend, one day, but right now, she needed that outlet. She needed that pain.
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Rowena was tired. No. She was so much more than simply tired. She was exhausted and her head ached, but her day was not over yet. She still had accounts to balance, payments to record. The economic side of running Hogwarts had always been hers to tidy up. The others would not go near it.
Maybe she was simply getting old, but the happenings of the past few years left her without much in the way of energy. All the enthusiasm she held for teaching and running the school had slowly ebbed away when yet another year had passed and things got steadily worse, starting with Ambrosius' attack on the Castle and ending with Salazar's angry departure almost three years prior.
"Godric?" she called, massaging her temples with her fingertips. "Where is Ceri?"
Her husband's muffled voice came from the direction of the bedchamber. "I don't know. I haven't seen her since dinner was served. Shall I go look for her?"
"No, don't. I'll go. I need to clear my head from all these accounts. How in Merlin's name am I supposed to know how much two bags of un-dyed yarn and a goat are worth?"
"You are asking the wrong person, dear. Accounts are your department," Godric said in a rather cheerful voice. So much for help from her dear husband. "I can't promise I'll be here when you get back, love. Ilar and I are going to get drunk down in the village."
"You mean Ilar is going to get drunk and you are going to carry him all the way home to Helga and then gloat tomorrow morning when he has a splitting headache, don't you?"
"Probably."
"You do remember the days when it was you being carried up the stairs, almost comatose, don't you? Show some sympathy to the poor man."
He laughed openly at that. "He's a grown man, love. He can take care of himself. One day he'll learn. They all do. Have a good night, dear. I will see you tomorrow."
"Goodnight," she replied, picking up her cloak. She then went outside into the cold halls. One thing that got better with Godric throughout the years, she mused, was his affinity for ale. As he grew older he learned to dislike the headache that accompanied each foray into Calanthe's tavern, and nowadays made do with one cup per night, leaving the getting drunk part to his younger friend.
"Now where did you go to, Ceri?" she muttered to herself, her thoughts turning once more to her little daughter. "I do hope you are not doing what I think you're doing."
Her daughter was already seventeen and she had grown up along boys all her life. The girl had learned the differences between boys and girls very early on, and had been very close to one specific boy in all her years as a student. Very close indeed.
Rowena did not really mind that closeness, but there were certain limits even to her own open-mindedness. She had a feeling that Ceri was very near crossing at least one line, and she hoped to stop her before it would be too late.
She prowled the halls, keeping her ears open. After a while she heard something. A girl's laughter followed by a young man's low chuckle.
She stopped in her tracks and closed her eyes for a moment. She had no doubt concerning the matter. That was her little one in there - most likely doing something she herself did not do until her mid-twenties. She felt compelled to make sure, however, and carefully peeked around the corner.
Ceri was standing with her back pressed against the wall. Her alabaster arms exposed as her dark-blue sleeves fell from her wrists. One of her hands was playing with the golden hairs at the nape of a young man's neck, while the other was on his back, bringing him closer to her.
One of the man's arms was encircling Ceri's waist. The other was somewhere between their bodies. Rowena dreaded to think what it was doing there.
The couple's lips were firmly attached and it was obvious to Rowena that this was not the first time they had done such a thing.
Tactfully, she silently retreated down the hall and came back stomping and calling "Ceri! Are you here? Ceri!"
By the time she reached the corner and turned into the adjoining hall, her daughter had already managed to smooth her gown, get her hair back into place and look as though she was only having a normal, friendly, and above all, proper conversation with Aiden, who appeared to be completely unflustered.
She silently commended the two for their quick reactions.
"There you are, dear!" Rowena said in an overly-cheerful voice. "Your father and I were starting to get worried. It's getting late."
"Of course, Mother," Ceri said demurely, making Rowena fight the urge to snort. "Goodnight, Aiden. I shall see you tomorrow morning in Runes then, shall I?"
Aiden nodded curtly, and with a brief bow to Rowena, hurried down the hall and back to the Ravenclaw House residence.
Ceri and Rowena turned the other way back to their own rooms. They walked in silence for a while. All that time Rowena listened to Aiden's footsteps. When she deemed them far enough, she said "You are lucky I insisted on going after you myself. You father would have killed him."
Ceri stopped walking. "You… you know?" she stuttered, her seemingly unconcerned face losing colour rapidly.
This time Rowena did snort. "Dear child, if you do not wish to get caught, don't kiss your man in an open corridor. I saw more than I would have liked tonight. Listen to me, Ceri, and listen carefully. I want you to watch your step. It's clear to me that you have future plans concerning this boy, but don't let me catch you at it again - and most certainly do not let your father and brother catch you, because then Aiden is a dead man. Are we clear?"
"You…you will not tell Father?" Ceri asked in a small voice.
"Do I have a reason to tell him?" Rowena asked archly.
Ceri walked in silence the rest of the way. When she walked to the room she shared with Ryan, she had a thoughtful expression on her face.
Rowena lay awake in the big bed she shared with Godric for hours after. She did not know what time it was when he came back, opening the door to the bedchamber as silently as he possibly could, but as he crawled under the blankets, she pulled him near and held him tight.
"'Wena?" he asked in surprise. "Why are you still awake?"
She did not reply at first, only tightened her hold on him. When he encircled her waist with his arms, she buried her face in his chest and mumbled "Why do they have to grow up so quickly?"
He did not answer her question, but the tightening of his arms around her was all the answer she needed.
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The next morning, when Godric and Rowena were eating breakfast in the main chamber of their rooms, Ryan came in, looking flustered.
"You're up early," Godric commented casually, spreading butter over his bread. "Fell out of bed?"
"You could say that," their eldest grumbled, ruffling his already-ruffled hair in an agitated movement. "I've been pushed out of bed. Is something wrong with Ceri? She came to sleep in my bed last night, and she only does that when she's upset. Did she and Aiden have a fight or something? That's what happened last time. I can go and knock some sense into him if that's the problem."
Rowena nearly choked on her tea. She had to steer the conversation away from that boy. "It's nothing, Ryan," she said. "She was just a little depressed yesterday - a girl's thing. Is she still asleep?"
"Yes, Mother. Should I wake her?"
"No, leave her be. I will have a word with her later on - and for Merlin's sake, boy, leave Aiden alone. I'm sure he has nothing to do with this. I've seen them yesterday and they were on perfectly friendly terms. Go mind your own business."
"What are you up to today, anyway?" Godric asked, putting aside his plate.
"The lads and I are going to do a bit of clearing in the area - we heard rumours that some of Ambrosius' old supporters are hiding in the vicinity of the Castle again - trying to get to you. I'll see you tonight, then?"
Rowena did not approve of her son and his cohorts' favourite pastime. However, they had discussed it many times over, and she knew well enough that he will agree to anything she says, and then will go and do whatever it was he had planned on doing anyway. And so, all she said was "Be careful, dear. Some of those people have significant talent."
"I know, Mother," he said with a grin that spoke volumes. "That's what makes it so fun."
"He's your son, no doubt about that," Rowena complained to Godric. "Only someone from your line would be so recklessly careless."
He shrugged with a slight smile, buttering another piece of bread.
When Ryan left, Rowena sighed. "When will this be over? Ambrosius has been dead for almost sixteen years. Isn't it about time this will die out?"
Godric put down his knife and looked at her with his piercing blue gaze. "It will not be over for a long time, love. What we did had immense implications on the entire Wizarding World. The magic community here had to start everything over. Billius and Gaius had to pull the Council from the ashes after Ambrosius died, and things are still not as stable as they should be. We may have done them a great favour by eliminating Ambrosius, but there are still those who believe we were in the wrong. If you ask me - and I could be wrong, mind you - we should expect these attempts on our lives to last until the day we die."
"I was afraid you might say that," she groaned.
He simply smiled and went back to his breakfast.
Time passed, and even though she always kept an eye out for them, Rowena did not stumble across her daughter and Aiden again. She was torn between satisfaction that the girl was smart enough to heed her warning about Godric and Ryan and anxiousness she had never felt before, afraid of what else the two might be doing.
When she could no longer bear the ignorance, she settled Ceri down in the drawing room where she knew Godric and Ryan would not be able to overhear her, and then gave her profusely blushing daughter a very detailed, blunt and informative lecture about what she may and may not do with Aiden, and the consequences that will follow were she ever to find out that the two young people had disobeyed her.
While she did not mind them experimenting, there were certain lines she would not allow to be crossed.
Ryan and Godric remained oblivious to the whole matter.
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It was sometimes in early autumn that year, before the cold completely set in, that something happened to change Rowena's once again tranquil set of mind that she had regained with difficulty after Salazar's departure all those years before.
She was in the Great Hall, instructing her sixth years in the art of Apparition that day, gradually becoming more and more frustrated by the incompetence of some of her students. She was in the middle of a lecture to one of the children who had left a foot behind for the tenth time that week.
"-you simply can't let your mind wander! How many times do I have to repeat it? If you want to learn how to Apparate, you have to learn to do it properly. You have to-"
"Headmistress! Headmistress!" a voice cried out from the open doors leading to the Entrance Hall.
"What is it?" she asked irritably, putting down her wand, ignoring the boy's pleading looks for her to fix his leg again.
"You have just received a letter from London!" the villager who had hailed her huffed, trying to regain his breath, leaning heavily on the doorframe.
London… there was only one person who could possibly write to her - and just to her - from London, and elicit such a hurried response from the village. There was no other possibility. It had to be him. Her heart ached. She could not believe it had been three years since that day. They had not heard from him ever since. So the question asked - why now?
"Class…" she let out, her voice coming in a breathy gasp. "Class dismissed. No homework. Go. Go!" With a hasty wave of her wand she fixed the boy's leg and shooed him off.
The frightened students scampered out of the hall. She took the sealed parchment from the villager's hand. He, too, hurried out, not wishing to know why the Headmistress was so upset. It was well known that one did not mess with Mistress Ravenclaw when she was agitated.
Rowena looked at the parchment for a long time, biting her lip as she stared at the Slytherin seal embossed in the green wax. How long was it since she had seen this seal? She remembered Salazar making it, molding a piece of metal into that shape. She could not bring herself to break it just yet.
Finally, after a long while, she made her decision. With trembling hands she raised her wand, slit the parchment open and skimmed through the first few lines.
Her mouth opened in a silent cry of alarm.
"Godric!" she then screamed. "Helga!"
Her husband and her friend were by her side within seconds, already informed by the sixth year students that she was in some sort of distress.
"What is it?" Godric asked gently, squeezing her shoulder to reassure her. "Is it Dahlia?"
Rowena shook her head. "Salazar," she whispered.
"My dear Rowena," the letter read in the curly handwriting that was so unmistakably Salazar's own. "I know it is too late to say I'm sorry for the wrongs I have wrought on our poor school and their disastrous implications on our friendship, but I have decided that I have to ask for your forgiveness, no matter the price. Too long have I waited to do so, that I know. That forgiveness means more to me that you can ever know - whether you offer it or not.
"I can only imagine how angry Godric still is with me. I have done him a great wrong, and I hope he can see that even though we had that miserable falling out three years ago I still care for him and love him as a brother. I do not deserve his love in return, but I know you understand why I must let him know this truth. True brotherhood never dies - not even when we attempt to quench it and suffocate it with our own hands. Believe me, I tried hard throughout these past three years.
"As for my Helga… every time I think of her I hurt. We had such a great future ahead of us, and I let her slip away. I do not begrudge her choosing Ilar anymore, and I know that the blame is all on me, for I am the one who sent her away. I still feel for her the same as I felt that day so long ago when I lied to her and told her I can never love her the way she wants. Were I able to take it all away, were I able to turn back time, I would have done just that. Merlin knows how much it had cost us all.
"I miss you all, Rowena, and every day separately tears me further apart. We spent a great deal of our lives together, and your absence kills me. I mean that, Rowena.
"I am dying, Rowena. The knowledge of this is what led me into writing this long overdue letter. A wise man once said, I hear, that it is important for a dying man to have peace in his soul before the end. I am restless. I have no peace. My soul is homeless and travel-weary. It aches for friendship long lost and for the touch of a loving hand. It hungers for the soothing word of family and for a breath from the past, to revive it one last time before the last, long journey.
"I, more than anyone else, know I have no right to ask this of you, but I ask it nonetheless.
"Come to me, Rowena, just this one last time. I have need of seeing a familiar, friendly face before I die. Please come, for my time is short. There are many things I need to share with you, and even if you refuse to put my soul in peace, the mere sight of your face would make it all better, if not complete.
"I would like to see Helga and Godric one last time as well, but I know beyond doubt that there is no way that either of them would come to my deathbed. Not after the manner in which our ways parted.
"I beg you nonetheless to convey them both my undying love.
"Hoping to see you again, one last time, eternally yours in friendship,
"Salazar Ailill Searlas Slytherin."
Oh, dear. I did it again. Evil cliffie of sorts… sorry. Will make it better on Tuesday. So anyway, thanks very much to all those who reviewed, and if I neglected answering your review for some reason - I'm sorry, but thank you all the same! You're great, the lot of you!
Hugs and kisses to you all!
Star of the North