A blur. All the excitement possible of rampaging so in but a single week could apparently become nothing but a large foggy memory that Helga wished to forget. Sleep might help. That had always been one of Naira's more pressed cures. Sleep and a maybe a sip of herb water could fix most anything that wouldn't kill you. And many times such a remedy had worked. So why wouldn't it work now, if she could but crawl into her nice warm bed and never come out no matter how her father screamed at her.

He had said it was her fault that little Rowena had been captured.

Helga cringed once, the figures on the other side of the room blinking momentarily into darkness. Even otherwise they were blurred, messy shapes of humans talking in voices she probably wasn't supposed to overhear. Well, it was too late for that. She had already done enough. When a sobbing Salazar had appeared with Rowena in his arms, it had been Helga who had stepped past the stunned Jonas to get the feverish child to a proper bed and her worried parents' arms. It was she who had sat down with Salazar and tried to make sense of the incoherent cries that had poured from him.

Salazar. . . She brushed away some tears and tried to focus on him, leaning against the wall, not even meeting Lord Clearwater's eyes as the older man spoke to him. Her heart went out to him, just as it had the other day. Poor Salazar. His father dead and. . . something else. Perhaps he had mentioned it as he lay with his head in her lap, but those nightmarish words still made little clarity to her. Salazar. . .

His eyes, like cold pebbles, met hers. She stared back. She couldn't break the gaze. She didn't know why, but she couldn't possible do that. If she did. . . Salazar needed her to hold on for as long as he could.

A few moments turned out to be enough. With the faintest of smiles she hadn't seen from him in days he released her, gasping.

Something was wrong. She had known it the moment he had returned with Rowena. Something had happened back there.

"Helga." A cold hand found its way to her shoulder. "Helga, this is not our business; perhaps its best that we leave now."

She couldn't look up at her father, she didn't even want to. Fool, she thought. It wasn't his business, the fate of Salazar Slytherin, but it certainly was hers. Salazar was her friend and if that was more than her father could understand then so be it! And if he kept that damn hand on her shoulder one moment longer. . . She couldn't hid her intake of breath as his fingers slowly slid away from her dress. The pretty dress he had purchased for her. He did love to spoil her. And that was good of him. He did love her, and she him. He was her father, after all.

"We really should leave."

"You can leave, Father," she whispered, daring herself to glance up at him. "I. . . I can get home on my home. You are aware that I'm very good at apparation."

A smile twitched under his greying beard. "I know you are, my pet."

Yes, he did love her, like a good father.

"Young Slytherin is my fellow student and friend," she continued. "I wish to be here with him."

"My daughter has a good heart." The smile lessened.

"Thank-you, Father." He expected her to say more. He wanted a better reason. "He. . . helps me in lessons."

Her father sniffed, chest twisting beneath his expensive purple cloak. "I wouldn't think a daughter of mine would require lessons."

She forced a smile. "I'm the one who taught him to Apparate."

It was enough. He bent down enough to give her a small kiss on her forehead. How kind. She fought an instinct to brush it away. "Then I shall see you at supper?"

"Of course, Father. Don't let Naira serve anything without me."

He was a good man, she thought as she watched her father Apparate without so much as a farewell to Lord Clearwater or Lady Gryffindor. Yes, he was good.

She tried not to touch the bruise at her eye. Instead she turned her attention to the others. Lord Clearwater and Jonas, talking in low tones, while Lady Gryffindor stood silently near them, her son at her side. . .

No. Godric wasn't there. He. . .

"It's not right a maiden stand alone." He was suddenly before her, a lock of brown hair twisted awkwardly above his head.

"Ricky," she whispered, reaching up a hand to smooth down the hair. Then she jerked back, realizing what she had done. They hadn't even so much as yet mentioned the kiss.

"You are like my mother." He gave a small laugh, surprisingly appropriate for the dreary occasion. "Please, come stand by us." Without so much as a "by your leave" he slipped her hand into his. Perhaps she should fight back, but. . .oh, she couldn't.

He led her closer to the other group. Amazing how she had been unable to hear them. Or at least not pay attention. Lady Gryffindor. . . Helga had heard so little of her words, she discovered.

"I again ask that I be allowed to take. . . Salazar," Lady Gryffindor was saying. "I can take care of him, I know I can."

Something wasn't right. Helga stared at Lady Gryffindor, practically begging for Salazar while her red hair slipped from the knot behind her head. Such. . . determination. For the child of one of Lord Clearwater's servants?

"I trust you on that, Rose," Lord Clearwater solemnly agreed. "But Siyth was. . ."

"Siyth was one of them!" Lady Gryffindor shot back. In a moment she was blushing, hands clapped over her mouth. "I mean. . ."

"But Salazar is not Siyth," Lord Clearwater continued, hardly phased by Lady Gryffindor's outburst. "I regret my inability to see who he was, but I care for his child."

There was silence as his words were considered.

"As do I," she whispered.

Jonas was watching his niece-no one but Helga seemed to notice, she decided. He was planning on interceding. And finally he did.

"Terminus," Jonas murmured. "Please, let me speak with you aside."

Lady Gryffindor's eyes widened. "Uncle Jonas?" A plea. But she didn't move.

Salazar refused to look at anyone, even Helga and Godric.

"He should be my brother," Godric muttered, squeezing Helga's hand. "Clearwater's home is too. . . close."

"Something happened yesterday," Helga replied. "Did he. . ."

"He told me nothing."

A low sob escaped Lady Gryffindor's throat.

Helga suddenly hoped Lady Gryffindor wouldn't look at her. She hated the way the woman sometimes looked at her. Like she knew something.

"Mother." Godric, with his other hand, touched her shoulder.

She placed hers over his and shook her head. "We must think of something else, Ricky. My sister. . . did you hear she has picked a suitor?"

With almost a laugh Godric glanced back at Helga.

She had an urge to laugh, as well. What an odd time to be discussing marriage.

"Really?"

"Yes. A Martin Weasley. A rich and very talented wizard of a good family. My parents approve most highly."

Godric actually did laugh. "So I suppose Marigold won't be playing anywhere with me, now."

Lady Gryffindor dared smile. "I think she likes running through the woods more than she lets on."

Jonas and Lord Clearwater returned from their side talk, both looking very grave.

"Rose," Clearwater said, taking Lady Gryffindor's hand. "Your uncle has convinced me that you would be the best caretaker for Salazar."

Godric squeezed Helga's hand even tighter. "Yes!"

Even Salazar looked up, something of relief written on his face.

She gasped, looking sharply at Jonas, who merely shrugged. "How did-?" Her gaze returned to Lord Clearwater as she tried her best not to cry. "Thank-you. I cannot express my gratitude."

Lord Clearwater smiled. "You will be a fine mother for him."

"Thank-you so much. His lessons with you, of course, will continue. His father. . . should not have died in such a way. The man was a traitor, but a good father. His murderer must be found, if it were not this Malak."

Something inside of Helga screamed at those words.