"Hold on, just a little more…" Helga's hand swept back from Latiya's hair, which was freshly curled and littered with roses. "There! Darling, you look just beautiful! Now those roses had best stay because I refuse to cast anymore sticking charms in that hair of yours; I'm not quite sure just what sort of an effect any more magic would have on you."
Latiya smiled and gently touched one of the bulbous roses. She looked to grown-up. Just like Mama and Helga. Well, if she had to be a grown-up now, she might as well look the part. And when Helga volunteered to yank her hair up in curls and roses in a fashion that no self-respecting child would wear, Latiya took it. "Thank-you!"
"Focus on the mirror." Helga turned the stool on which Latiya sat to fully face the patterned mirror. "Oh, but your mother is going to be furious with me when she sees you."
"Marigold is with Rose right now," Rowena called from somewhere out in the hall. "Bringing up flowers. Or something. You can still hide the girl."
"Thank-you!" Helga called back, and she gently scooted Latiya from the chair. "Well, I'm certain she won't make a huge fuss at the ceremony, so just stay out of our way until then. If you see your mother, hide. You know how to hide, right?"
"I'm the second best at hide-and-seek," Latiya replied defensively.
Helga laughed. "Good. Now go."
"But I want to watch Rowena get ready for the wedding!" Latiya hated the words the moment they were out of her mouth. The look that fell over Helga's face… she looked so sad. Latiya had rarely seen her look so sad. It should be Helga getting ready now, being forced into a wedding dress with her hair all tied and prepared for a few hours of glamour and glitter. Latiya knew exactly how Helga felt about Godric Gryffindor.
Helga's fingers froze at the stool, her own hair about to slip from its precarious bun. Yet she did nothing, not even the quickest of motions to stop it. Then her frown flipped itself into a smile more suited for a tapestry, and she flicked back the loose strand of hair. "Latiya, your mother is going to probably be helping with Rowena. You don't want your mother to see you looking like that until later."
Why did the mothers and the other adult women always have to be the ones helping with the wedding? Latiya made a face.
"At least she's still wearing a child's dress," Rowena said with a true humor, striding into the room, hair dripping wet and nothing but a cloak wrapped around her body. "I could just imagine you looking for all the world like one of those—"
Helga clapped a hand over Rowena's mouth. "I think you're forgetting yourself, Rowe dear. Just because you have subscribed to such behavior—"
"I have not!" Rowena cried, pushing the hand away. "Just because I've kissed a few more young wizards than you have—"
"I don't think you should be professing that kind of knowledge of my personal life," Helga said wickedly.
"That, I do not want to know. Now where is this sickening array of servitude I'm supposed to wear?" Rowena slipped off her robe. "I believe Heather was getting it…"
Well, now she had completely sunk into the wrong side of ignorance. With an exasperated sigh that once again failed to receive the attention she had expected, Latiya slunk unseen from the room. Maybe she could find Carnation or one of the other girls and how off her new hair style and the make-up Helga had dabbled on her face.
Unfortunately the wedding was being held in Hogwarts, and Hogwarts was a place that Latiya still had yet to discover. It had been Helga to suggest it. A celebration to fully start the school. Latiya was already having plenty of fun at Hogwarts—she didn't need a wedding. Especially when Ricky and Helga were not to be married. It just wasn't fair, for anyone. Maybe she'd manage to get lost in the twisting halls of the school and miss the wedding completely. But then she wouldn't be able to show off her new hair and her mother wouldn't get furious and her father wouldn't laugh and… oh, the wedding would be too much fun to miss. So she wouldn't get lost. Besides, already a few portraits had been enchanted for proper use—the nice ones would surely point her way back.
She turned a corner, barely looking at where it led. She wasn't sure where she was heading right now, anyway. "All sing you one, ho," she sang. "Green oh the rushes grow…." An old song that Heather had taught her. Heather was so nice that way.
"A wee little girl singing about boring rushes?"
Latiya froze. In front of her popped a small, bright figure with a laughing face. A man. Only… it wasn't a ghost, was it?
"Hello," she said dimly.
The man wriggled his nose at her. "Ah, so she can so something besides sing. Though I like that song. I, Peeves, am the most marvelous singer in the world. At least in this dirty old place that people think would be fun to make a school out of. Bleh." He blew a raspberry. "Schools are for fools."
That was true. Helga was the only fun teacher. "I'm Latiya."
"Latiya, then. Hello, Latiya. Latiya Latiya Latiya Latiya. You have a very hard name to say. So I shall call you Ya-ya."
Without thinking Latiya laughed. That was what her father had called her when she was very small. She liked this Peeves.
"Ah, so the missy can laugh!" Peeves stood up, still balance oddly in the air a good two feet above the stone floor, and bowed. Then he began to sing, horribly loud and even more horribly off-key. "All sing you fifteen oh, red burn the rushes on fire!"
Latiya laughed again. "That's not how it goes! It doesn't go that high, the song only goes to twelve!"
"So Ya-ya doesn't like red rushes," Peeves replied, ending his song. "So I take it you don't like red roses, either." With that, he sprang forward and yanked one of the roses from her hair.
Instantly she grabbed at the rose, as he held it tauntingly before her. "Give it back, that's mine!"
"It's mine, now!" Peeves cried. And he flew off down the hall, rose in hand.
And after all that work Helga had spent on her hair. "Give it back!" She ran after Peeves, her shoes beating endlessly against the stone floor. She wasn't sure where he had turned, but the next corner was hers, and she was once again running. More corners, more turns….
She must have been running for ten minutes before she realized that Peeves was no where in sight, and she was hopelessly lost.
"Wonderful," she muttered. Whatever that Peeves person was, she was going to tell Ricky and Helga and the others. She turned another corner, then another. This wasn't helping. Maybe she'd have to find a portrait. She did not want to miss the wedding. Sometimes portraits were kept in classrooms. There. A door. Without thinking she pushed it open.
It was empty. Mostly empty, at least. A few scrolls, probably brought in by Rowena or Salazar, were dumped in a table. The room must have been cleaned recently, but already fresh dust was taking its place. A few chairs had been arranged for a small class, but otherwise the room seemed forgotten.
Scrolls, she thought. Scrolls were sometimes fun to read. Especially if it concerned an upcoming lesson…
But as she approached the scrolls, one wriggled on its own, then flew up into the air.
Latiya almost screamed. But it had to be just another spell. One she didn't know yet.
The scroll unfolded itself. It was blank, at first, but as if an invisible pen hung before it with a just as invisible hand, words scrawled themselves over the parchment. Latiya stepped forward, curious. This was not normal. Therefore these words had to be important.
She barely noticed the footsteps behind her.
"Latiya," came the voice of Salazar. Relief, irritation—she didn't care. "Here you are, on the other side of the school, and we're not even finished over here. We've all been looking for you, your mother wants to fix your hair up, and…" His voice trailed off as he, too, read the scroll.
He shouldn't be reading it, Latiya thought dimly. It didn't concern him.
No, it wasn't her thoughts. It was like a voice speaking to her.
Yes! Came another. He needs to read them! It's only how we can stop this! If he knows…
Maybe he should just be killed… before anything happens.
If anything hasn't happened yet….
Are you suggesting.?
He cares for the Ravenclaw girl. How close are they?
She's to be married…. She must still be a virgin…
These weren't her own thoughts! This wasn't right! Furiously Latiya shook her head. Oh, but she hated those voices. She wasn't supposed to listen to voices that were not hers. It was bad. Very bad. She focused her attention on the scroll.
"What is that?" Salazar whispered.
Latiya couldn't read very fast…
"Accio!" Salazar shouted. The scroll zoomed over Latiya's head into his outstretched hand.
Latiya turned. "I was reading that!"
Salazar's face was very strange. He looked… sick. His face was pale, his eyes red and unfocused.
"Sal?" Latiya asked in a tiny voice. What was it with everyone today? It was just a wedding.
Finally Salazar took notice of her. "Latiya," he said. "Turn right outside the door and go down to the very end of the hallway, and turn again. You should recognize the school from there." He may as well have been speaking to someone not there; he wouldn't even look at her.
Latiya nodded. "Salazar, are you all right? You're coming, aren't you?"
He didn't reply. Slowly, Latiya slid out the door. Just then something struck against her sleeve. Another scroll. It must have… flown out like the other.
That was a very strange room. She'd have to talk to Helga about it.
An hour of preparation and he still looked atrocious. Doubtfully anyone would create a spell useful for anything in the area of grooming. Pre-wedding jitters, Godric had thought. Not that any self-respecting man would have jitters. So that couldn't be it. What was about to happen was simply another example of the daily repetition of marriage; sooner or later most souls came to terms with such, whether romance or otherwise brought it forth. None of this was his fault—why should any marriage be at fault? It was Caspian's fault, he and his rampant marriage of Heather. So now on a lark all had decided that the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw families be inseparably connected.
When did wizarding folk hold such thoughts in esteem?
Godric made a small tear in the edge of his sleeve. His mind gave no reason for the action, but the tear gave the small comfort that he had control over some things in this world. He had thought it for months: there had to be more to his marriage with Rowena than family ties.
Was he complaining? It wasn't that he didn't care for Rowena. She was intelligent, beautiful, talented… all the things Salazar saw in the girl. So why wasn't Salazar marrying her? He was not a Gryffindor. Of all of destiny's foolish reasons.
Godric loved Helga. He had since they were children. He was supposed to marry Helga. Of that he was certain.
And Salazar would rush in and carry Rowena away without another word being said.
Had Jonas and Terminus arranged for these awful romances?
And speak of the devil… footsteps halted at the doorway; Godric didn't bother to turn.
"Almost ready?" Jonas asked.
Perhaps there was still room for joking. "Almost ready for what?"
Jonas laughed, and the fine-toothed comb near Godric's hand gave a small jiggle and jumped at his unruly brown hair. "I'm sure you know of what I mean."
"Oh, yes. I'm supposed to get married today."
"I sense a bit of digression in your voice?" Jonas continued into the room, almost as if he had not been invited and only wished to intrude at the slightest.
Now was as good a time as ever. Right before the wedding. "Why must I marry Rowena?" He saw Jonas' face in the mirror now, questioning and suddenly somehow ageless.
"You don't like Rowena?"
"Rowena is very dear to me! But I do not love her!"
A flippant shrug. "Love can come in its due time."
Godric twisted away from the mirror, hating the anger that was already boiling inside of him. "I am in love with Helga Hufflepuff. That love has already come. I do not like this duty that requires me to be with Rowena."
"But it was decided in the best interests of the families…."
"Did Caspian and Heather not make the bond between the families strong enough?" Godric snapped. "My family despises our kind, while Heather is a Muggle. My family was nothing but ecstatic when Caspian married her. They're not pleased that I'm marrying a witch."
Jonas dared to laugh. "Helga is also a witch."
The expected reply, of course. Godric had walked right into that one. His fist struck out uncontrolled, freezing just before striking the wall. "I'm perfectly aware of that. You call us the more powerful wizards and witches in this area. One of the reasons you demand this school. Is there some prophecy, or something one of your seers as foretold, that requires me to marry Rowena for the sake of this school?"
"…no."
"Which of us is fated to destroy this school?"
"We don't speak of that."
The comb had made another attempt at his hair. Godric shoved it away, clattering to the floor. "You hide as a Squib for years. You never married, Jonas. What would you know of all this? If it's not for the sake of the school, then why?" Helga was in his mind. Clear eyes, laughing smile. He could see her as if she were in front of him. "I'm sure the school will carry on fine if I did not marry Rowena. We have students even now. More wish to attend. If I hear one more word demanding I take a child to preserve the magic ways I will scream."
For a long time Jonas said nothing. Godric hated the way he stared.
A knock sounded outside the door, and Rose's face peered in, bright aglow. His mother, all excited for a wedding she had arranged. She didn't seem to notice any problems. "Are you almost ready, dear?"
Godric found himself nodding. Ready as he would ever be.
"Good. Rowena is far from ready, though." Rose vanished down the hallway.
Godric took a deep breath, something to still his anger. This was silly. He'd still see Helga again. There would be ways… but he'd be the husband of another woman. "I'm sorry, Jonas, I shouldn't have accused you… I suppose I was searching for an excuse."
More silence.
He shuffled his feet, scuffing the boots. "I suppose I should…"
"It's for Helga's sake." The words flew from Jonas' mouth like a storm.
Godric paused. "What?"
"Your mother… it's something she saw." Jonas closed his eyes, and his voice became regretful. "We didn't think you'd ever have to know, but even Rose pointed out that you cared for Helga. But to save Helga's life we have to do whatever we can to throw off that line of fate."
"But that hardly ever works," Godric whispered. An old adage from a former lesson. "What did my mother see?"
"Helga was dying. Stabbed. Drowned. We don't know what fate will cause that to happen. Today's marriage may in fact help bring it about. But we don't think it will. We can only stop whatever we can from happening."
Godric fell back against the wall.
"I'm sorry you had to hear that," Jonas said softly. "But you did ask. Congratulations be yours for the marriage."
He slowly left the room.
Salazar watched as the scroll burned. Delicate flames licking their ways down the parchment. Fire was so excellent at destruction—was that why the witch-hunters had so favored it? If only he could apply that same fire to his mind.
The parchment fell to ashes, whatever enchantment placed it apparently gone as the ashes rolled outwards through the hall. He kicked at them, then turned, no longer caring where he was going.
No more riddling prophecies this time. No more mysteries that could be interpreted either way. Clear words, directed at him.
Why hadn't he known before?
Throughout the castle came the echoes of voices, ricocheting like light from the walls. Laughter, chatter, the children fighting over something. There was to be a wedding today… a wedding he was against. His mind refused to care, just fled to his feet to send them marching wherever the halls led. He flung magic as he went, trickster spells that the students might find amusing come lesson time. He didn't care. The spells flew to his fingertips, to his wand, and out into the walls. Twisting halls, moving halls, steps… Rowena had already damaged the staircases enough…
Rowena… he stopped. Rowena was to be married today. And he was supposed to…
Salazar.
Rowena. He turned. She had to be close; that spell didn't go far.
"Rowe?" he called.
"Salazar?" She stepped around the corner.
It was all he could do to keep his heart inside. This couldn't be his Rowe, wrapped in blue silk, her hair tied with white daisies. The neckline… lower than anything he had seen her wear. He forced a smile. "You look lovely."
She nodded, blushing. "For… the wedding. Unless you…" She didn't continue.
He knew exactly what she was talking about. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her forehead. "You're a beautiful bride."
"For…"
"Godric." He hated to say it.
Her eyes widened, almost anticipating a scream. "But I thought we'd leave now!"
The scroll, unburned, flashed in his thoughts. "I thought you were determined to marry Godric."
"I changed my mind. It's you I love."
That wasn't something he doubted. More than anything at that moment Salazar wanted to just grab her and leave Hogwarts forever. All problems would be solved then. But he couldn't marry her. Never.
"My ring," Rowe begged, revealing her hand. The misty rang came into view. "I still have it; it still means that you will be my husband!"
He took her hand and squeezed it. Then he pulled off the ring and flew it across the floor. It rolled, loud as thunder, than vanished into mist.
"Salazar!" It truly was a scream this time. "Salazar, how dare you leave me!"
"You would never understand," he said, turning around. "You have to marry Godric."
"Salazar!" she screamed again.
He didn't listen. He was too far down the hall, cursing what he had seen. Riddles gone, only truth and logic. Or maybe he had finally learned to make sense of riddles.
"The seed of darkness will come through the union of Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Generations will pass, but the child of darkness will come through Slytherin."
A door appeared, etching itself into the wall. Salazar didn't know if he was making it. But it opened. He could see the endless stretch of trees beyond it.
He ran.