"My right hand holds matches
My left holds my past,
I hope the wind catches,
And burns it down fast."
--Martina Mcbride, "From the Ashes"
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Salazar had forgotten how Hogwarts' grounds smelled at night. Smell. He had never thought of that as a particularly strong or important sense, but a strange waft of familiarity that yet frightened him almost dared to pull him to the ground. The clearing had been something else: wild, earthy. Civilization held a scent all its own. He wasn't all that sure that he liked it, but familiar it was. Only one thing he recognized from the woods: blood.
He didn't realize he could smell so much.
He kept his lips tight and strides long as he followed the silent forms of Jonas and Godric back to the castle. The night was absolutely still, stark contrast to the earlier storm. The lake was glass, or black flint, he wasn't sure. The raft still lay out there, but he was sure that he would soon succumb to a broken spell and fade away. Latiya had vanished.
Godric had hardly looked at him, nothing beyond the first stare of gawking surprise. Salazar didn't blame him. Who was he to show up after three years? But he wouldn't have come, not if he hadn't felt it.
Their feet pounded against the stone floor of the hall, a loud thunder left over from the storm that almost dared awake all sleeping. Godric took the lead, the shaking body of Helga clasped tightly in his arms. Godric did not look at her, either, or at anything else; though his eyes were frozen in front of him, he seemed to be staring at nothing. Only his feet moved, hard and nearly running.
Salazar did not like to look at Helga, either. He only caught a glimpse of her, after Godric pulled her from the lake. The water had all but sucked the life out of her, pulling at the wound in her chest as if the blood were the lake's own. Her hair was dripping, a mop of gold that still glowed more brightly than anything. Her face, however, her very skin was the color of ash, white and void of any color. Her eyes were shut, eyelids quivering faintly with every movement. Her breath that had been so harsh and demanding had faded into the barest of puffs. She was a dying fire. Dying.
Heal her, he wanted to scream to Godric. Heal her! Certainly you know your basic healing! If he could make himself he would grab Helga. He wanted to examine the wound, treat it.
Though if that were his desire why hadn't he taken Latiya? He had come into time for that, to see a still form of collapsed shadows lying on a raft in the middle of the lake.'
Tanith had spoken of such things. Living souls yet, if a soul could be soulless. That was her only explanation and Salazar had never thought to prod her for more. But he had seen the signs. Could it be confirmed? She was a child, he thought. A mere child!
And then what was Helga? Helga and Latiya had always held a special bond. Helga's favorite she was, if such things were allowed.
So he followed along, a child himself again, silently pleading for Godric to do something.
Jonas took the back. He held his own burden. Marigold's body.
Salazar did not dare look back at him. They had appeared at the lake at the same time, an action that must have sealed something, an unspoken contract.
That Jonas broke.
"Why are you here?" His voice was muffled with tears and the way they caught in one's throat at the same time they poured from the eyes. "Why are you here?"
Still he did not look back at the old man. "I felt it. I knew I had to come."
"After three years?"
"Would you have preferred me to stay away?"
Salazar could almost feel what Jonas felt. He didn't reply, though for whatever reason the beginnings of a grin pulled at the corners of his mouth.
It had only been minutes ago. They had been talking, he and Tanith. No conversation topic in particular, just whatever had occurred to him. She had laughed at something he had said, something he could no longer remember, and had prepared herself a witty banter. He had not laughed, he had barely heard. All that mattered at that moment was a searing pain across his heart and the pressure of screams, soundless, on his eardrums. Tanith's face had turned serious, her question to ask what was the matter. He replied he did not know, but he had to leave.
"Leave," she had agreed. "You are needed." She had kissed him gently and sent him on his way.
Leave to what? He didn't know what he had felt, what he had come to stop. Now it was too late for Latiya and Marigold.
A staircase moved to Godric's silent bidding, and he all but flew up it. Water still dripped from his hair and clothing in such torrents that Salazar almost feared someone would slip. Rose was waiting at the top.
Salazar felt the air leave his lungs. But she did not notice him. Her eyes were already fixed on Helga, and her hands clapped over her mouth to stifle a silent scream. She seemed to murmur something. Then her hands were down, clenched in fists, and she turned. "The room right here. I shall prepare it." She pulled out her wand and whipped it at a door, then burst through.
Two beds were available, dressed in clean white sheets. Almost demanding a laugh, with the blood and water soon to soil them. Salazar fought the mad grin that wanted to conquer him. He wanted to fall to his knees and laugh and he did not know why for the life of him.
The two women were placed on the beds, one to a sudden burst of tremors and the other to limp silence. Helga's eyes flipped open momentarily, eerily bright, before snapping shut.
"Rose," Jonas whispered. He hovered over Marigold's body, squeezing her lifeless hand.
Rose could not even look at her sister. "She is dead. I see that. I know." Her eyes closed, as she bit her lip until the blood flowed. Then she shook her head, opened her eyes, and placed her hands on Helga.
Godric seemed ready to shove her away, but stood still. "Mother, this is what you saw, isn't it?"
She nodded, the only motion in a powerful statue. But then the sobs came. They burst from her mouths like screams, and she would have collapsed to the floor had Jonas not grabbed her.
"There's no time for this!" Salazar shouted.
"I know!" Godric still didn't look at him, but he had his wand now hovering over her. The robe had been torn, revealing her blood-soaked breasts. The wound was oozing, dark and thick, but it had missed her heart. Salazar ran a finger over the wound. It was deep and soft. "She's lost blood."
Godric nodded. "But she's alive. I don't believe the knife was cursed."
"So do something!" He wanted to strangle Godric.
Godric hesitated. "But she... no." He took a deep breath and waved his wand over the wound. It began to seal itself up.
"This isn't what I saw," Rose murmured. "I saw Helga, but it wasn't her I was to be worried about. It wasn't clear."
Salazar wished she would be silent.
Helga's breathing strengthened and steadied.
"Why did you build the school?" Rose's voice was clear now, and louder. "Jonas, what were you and Terminus thinking?"
"We were dying," Jonas replied. "Our skills were far too dispersed. Do you think this is wrong, to teach?"
"Was it worth it?"
It sounded like a question Tanith would ask.
"Of course it was," Salazar said. The reply startled him. He hadn't meant to speak aloud.
"Yes." Jonas ran a hand though Rose's hair. "Listen to your son."
Salazar's breath seemed to freeze. He stared down at Rose and Jonas. It couldn't be.
"I thought you of all people would understand."
Even Helga stirred as the others turned.
He stood near Marigold's bed, wispy white and silver, like mist. Ranem.
"You're dead," Godric hissed. "You're dead."
The ghost did not appear to hear. "Appreciate, no. But while we applauded your efforts the truth was that you could not hold out much longer. That faction of the Order was growing desperate. They were even prepared to let the wizarding race die out. They, who had fought so long against Muggles. They were afraid of the future. Ironic. They did not know what they wanted. They were gaining strength, so many volunteered to protect the school. But Latiya Weasley was the closest one to the school, the closest one willing. I could see the desire of her heart the moment I saw her. But I knew the rest of you would get in the way of her sacrifice!"
Salazar had studied little of the way of ghosts. He admitted he did not know what spirits were capable of. Ranem's last word ended as a scream, and with that, Marigold moved. Her hand pressed hard against the bed, and she rose.
Her skin was the color of death.
Rose screamed.
Marigold was dead, that much was clear. The blood had finally stopped, though it soaked her entire body and now congealed at her open neck. Salazar could see glimpses of the brittle bones. Her eyes were surrounded with deep bruises.
But still she rose. Stood. Walked.
"Her daughter is mine," Ranem said. "Death was best for her, and that was the purpose of the Muggle woman. I try to be kind. And Helga Hufflepuff was a murderess herself. That was the revenge I spoke of." The ghost was fainter now, the voice not quite as powerful. "See the power here that even in death I can summon. She was always used, held not power of her own. They will never destroy this place. Beware of your fading power."
Jonas raised a hand, and Marigold's corpse ignited.
Ranem immediately faded.
There was no scream from Marigold. She flopped to the floor, a rope of flame, and burned while they watched in horror.
Soon only ashes remained. Marigold was gone.
Salazar fell to the ground himself, gasping for air. Whatever his lungs sucked in was not enough. Something burned at his eyes. Tears. It was not fair. She had a husband, children. She was never meant to be part of so much wickedness!
Neither was Heather.
"Dark magic," Rose said softly. Her crying had stopped. "Dark magic."
"Who are we supposed to trust?" Godric asked.
"Don't close the school," Rose whispered. She stared down at the stone floor, looking as if she would be ill soon. And she was. Jonas held her shoulders as she wretched. Then she fell back into his arms, too weak to stand. "Ricky, Sal, don't close the school. Not after what Latiya did."
In a strange way, that made sense.
"He killed Marigold," Godric said. "He killed her. He forced Heather to kill her. I'm glad I killed him!"
"Some deserve to die," Salazar agreed. "They say life is too precious, but some deserve it. And Hogwarts..." A burst of rage sounded from his throat, and he slammed his fist into the floor. His knuckles broke, for all he knew. "What is everyone's obsession with this school?"
Rose stared at him, heartbroken.
He didn't care. He thought of the word he had heard Jonas use. Sons. Plural. And he didn't care about that. "You are my mother. Jonas said so. You must have known something. The prophecy they all fear--"
She shook her head and pushed herself away from Jonas. "Sal, you do not understand."
"I did not mean to tell," Jonas muttered. "I did not mean to tell."
"It doesn't matter anymore!" Godric screamed. "It doesn't matter. All of you! It's too late to change this, we must continue the way we were going."
Salazar met his eyes--his brother's eyes. "They are all afraid of this school bringing evil in the future. And that will come through my line! I thought that if Rowe and I did not have a child..." He couldn't speak anymore. He could no longer think of anything to say.
"Rowe." The name was like a question. Rose took a deep breath. "We were going to stop them. We were going to lock Latiya in her chambers. But then we were attacked. I woke up not long before you came. Rowena is with Mary now... So we lost Latiya."
Amazement filled the room, an odd emotion for the situation.
It seemed an eternity before Salazar and Godric left the room. Hours, at least, waiting for all feeling to subside. Helga was left to rest. Jonas and Rose promised they would deal with Marigold and Heather. Godric had protested, but lacked the strength to make it meaningful. So he and Godric left together.
To talk? It didn't seem so. There should have been so much to talk about. More and more thoughts filled Salazar's head with each step. Godric was his brother. Rose was his mother. His mother had murdered his father. He wondered, distantly, how he was supposed to feel about that. But there was nothing left to feel. Godric must have felt the same way.
He supposed it made sense, that they were brothers. They always had been.
The door flung open as they passed it, and Rowena dashed out. She was as beautiful as Salazar remembered. No, even more so. Her curls were down, thick and black. He wanted to touch them. She seemed pale, sick. This made him want to comfort her.
"Ricky!" She leaped into him, throwing her arms around his neck, and kissed him solidly. "Ricky, I am so sorry! I was attacked and..." She paused, hands now pressed against Godric's face. "Darling?" Her beautiful eyes widened, and it was clear she knew all. "Ricky, no!" She kissed him again, and her kisses were returned, before she sank into his chest. She cried for a long time, all the while Godric whispering into her ear.
Salazar did not know what it was that made her look up. Their eyes locked.
She did not let go of Godric. "Salazar."
"Rowena." He gave a small bow.
"You never came back," she whispered. "You never came back."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Rowena had never cried so much in her entire life. The sadness came from everywhere inside of her, everything she had ever felt burst from her like a volcano. She was not supposed to feel this way, she knew. She was Rowena Ravenclaw, the brilliant girl who broke hearts and rejoiced in bad reputation--at least what she fancied to be scandalous enough. She had felt love for Salazar. She had cried over him. She had always wondered what the truth was, though, the truth of what she felt.
She held Mary, her beautiful, perfect daughter, the little girl she and Godric had brought into the world together. Mary was not Salazar's. The next baby was theirs as well. Not Salazar's. Other babies would come, maybe, hopefully. Mary was not quite asleep, but seemed perfectly content to be cuddled by her mother. No matter that mother was upset. That was comforting to Rowena. She had this baby, and the next one, to protect.
She thought of what she had learned of the night. Latiya, Marigold, countless others. For a moment her sobs ebbed, perhaps finally dry of all she had cried. She looked down at Mary. She was a darling baby. Precious beyond anything.
They were alone in the nursery together. Rowena had locked the door. Still gasping and choking, eyes still blurry, she stood up and crossed the room to the window. Dawn would be approaching in a few hours, and soon the rest of Hogwarts would know the tragedy that had occurred.
But for that moment, she had her baby. Mary yawned and cooed something. Rowena almost laughed. Instead, she kissed Mary's forehead. "I love you."
Perhaps this was all that was supposed to happen. Jonas and Godric had often spoken of good. Perhaps good would arise from all of this. Did an innocent baby mean nothing?
Mary, and the next baby, was hope.
She kissed Mary again and settled her into the cradle. The baby fussed for a moment, then settled as Rowena rocked the cradle and sang. An old song. "All sing you one, oh, green oh the rushes grow..." The baby yawned. "One is one and all alone and evermore shall be it so..."
As soon as Mary was asleep, Rowena gazed once more into the cloudy night sky and left the room.
It did not take long to learn where her cousin had been taken.
Heather jumped at Rowena the moment the door opened. She looked more like a beast than a human. Long red scratches ran down her cheeks and arms. Her hair was a mess, her eyes bloodshot. Her nails, worn down, tried to clench into Rowena's arms as she grabbed her. "Kill me!" she screamed. "Kill me, you witch! Kill me! Caspian will not do so. You have your magic, you have your ways of destroying me, so do it now!"
For a moment it seemed that she would attack Rowena, make it necessary she die.
Rowena did not move.
Slowly, hysterically, Heather sank to the floor. "No wonder so many of them hated Muggles! Kill me."Rowena knelt down next to her. She remembered being a child, so amazed and in awe of her cousin, so much older and bigger than her. Strange how growing up changed things. She put her arms around Heather and let her cry into her shoulder.
After Heather, like Mary, had fallen asleep, Rowena found Godric out behind the castle. The first little bits of yellow and orange were stirring in the east. She slid her hand into his.
It didn't matter where Salazar was.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Salazar was with Rose. He stood by her door, strong and silent and straight. If she was not hurting so much she might have laughed. He had always been a handsome boy, but such solemnity did not seem natural.
This was supposed to be a happy moment. It had been so in so many of her fantasies. But now her sister was dead, her niece... gone. She sat on her bed, not daring to look at him. "I'm sorry, Salazar." She had to force herself to say it.
"That I am your son?"
She shook her head. It was good she had no more tears to cry. "I am not sorry you are my son. I have always loved you. I did not want to give you up. Your father kidnaped you when you were born."
"And that's why you killed him?"
"One reason." She picked at a loose thread in the blanket. "There are many. Do you hate me for that?"
He shrugged. "I have not thought about my father in some time. I do not blame you for killing him. Nor do I hate you."
Was she supposed to believe that?
He sighed and left the doorway. Soon he was kneeling in front of her, holding her hands. "I'm sorry I left. Mother."
Mother. She liked the sound of that. If only she could smile. "Did you leave because of the prophecy?"
He nodded. "I was scared. I love Rowe. But I couldn't be responsible for what they all said would happen. One part of what I read said that the line would come from Rowe and I... so I left. She was marrying anyway. To--"
"To protect Helga." Rose nodded. How could she have not seen more? "Sal, we cannot always assume to know what the prophecies mean. Fate may be sent to trick us. Some are clear, some are not."
"I can't led anything evil happen. I've seen too much evil tonight."
"We all have."
"I'll do whatever I have to."
She believed him. She had to believe something positive. The Weasley family was hurt plenty. She was hurt plenty.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
It was mid-morning by the time Salazar returned to the woods. A funeral had been given for Marigold. He had to stay for that. Helga had not yet come around, but he couldn't wait. Rowena was clearly no longer his. But he had Tanith.
She was waiting for him by the spring. She was smiling, big and bright. He walked toward her, smiling himself, glad there was something good in his life. He could tell her everything bad, and she'd listen.
When he was near enough, she skipped a short distance to hug him. "I found something for you." She removed her arms from his body and pulled something from her neck. "It was at the bottom of the stream. I cleaned it up. It has a S on it, for Salazar!"
She held a locket, dangling from a chain.
He laughed and took the locket. "Sometimes you are such a child."
She batted her eyes. "I know. But I suppose that is what you like. So... is everything all right? Don't lie to me, Salazar, I can see everything in your eyes."
"Well." He pulled her down into the grass next to him. She listened, and he told her everything. Even as he spoke he felt better. Even the loss of Rowena fled. Why not? There was no sign of a storm. The sun was bright, the grass fresh.
Tanith was speechless as he finished. "I'm so sorry, Salazar," she whispered.
"It's not your fault." He held her hand in his. "And... I do not know what you will say to this, but I only hope you will agree. I need to go back."
She blinked. "To Hogwarts?"
He nodded and pulled out a few blades of grass. He stared at them, then threw them to the side. "Yes, to Hogwarts. That's where I belong. That prophecy..."
"It continues to worry you?"
"I'm afraid so. I know it is foolish to be afraid of prophecies, but..."
She planted a kiss on his cheek. "What else worries you?"
So much more. "Tanith, I--"
"Do you still think of Rowena? Is that why you left? Because she was mentioned in the prophecy? A scroll you found?"
"I can never tell when you mock me." He tore out more grass. "Yes, I still think of Rowena. Does that bother you?"
She shook her head. "I've always known how you felt about her. I don't care. I can understand that. It's just that..." She pulled her hand away.
Something was wrong. "Tanith?"
"I'm going to have a baby."
Pressure like a fist collected around Salazar's throat. "What?" He should be pleased about this. What was so wrong?
Tanith climbed to her feet. She was smiling now. Laughing. "I'm going to have a baby, Salazar. Your baby. I'm with child even now. Do you remember what that prophecy said?"
He couldn't move. A sense of horrible realization had fallen over him.
She continued. "You left Rowena. But the prophecy spoke twice. Ravenclaw meant nothing, nothing at all to the prophecy. The evil would come through you, Salazar. You." She laughed again. "You ran to the woods. I followed. I believe in the prophecies, and it is my destiny and privilege to be part of what will come!"
Salazar began backing away.
"It's too late, Salazar Slytherin." Tanith looked much taller now. "I chased you into the woods. I made you fall in love with me. And now the prophecy will come to pass. I always knew it would. You see, Salazar, I have known you for a very long time."
He stared at her. It couldn't be. But now, as he saw the eyes, he sensed something. "Ethelinda."
"My other name. I'm touched you remembered me. I did not lie when I said I liked you, cared for you. I have always had a soft spot for you, which is why I befriended a lonely young wizard with a special gift. My people knew you would be great. I knew you would be great." She took a deep breath, enjoying the sunshine. It was sickening to watch.
He had fled from Rowena for nothing. The prophecy everyone feared had happened anyway. "No. I cannot let this happen." He reached for his wand and held it out.
That seemed to amuse her. Tanith. Ethelinda. Whomever she was. "What now? Are you going to kill me?"
He thought of what he said before. His hand shook, but his voice was firm, preparing the words she herself had taught him. "Yes. Avada--"
"I'll hide until my baby is born." She vanished.
He was left alone with nothing but the running stream. Then he jumped up, wand still clenched. He would find her. He would have to find her.