Romance Awareness Month: your soulmate has an identical birthmark to your own.

Extra prompt: (object) invitation.

Gobstones Event: White Stone - parenting

Optional prompts: (object) key, (word) Episkey, (song) Seven Years - Lucas Graham

Old English guide:

Thou/thy - you/your (2nd person singular)

Hast - have

Dost - do; doth - does

Mayst - may

Shallst - shall

Wouldst - would

Ere - before

Baron Septimus Rosier,

Professor Rowena Ravenclaw, Founder of Hogwarts and Head of Ravenclaw House, formally requests the pleasure of thy company at the marriage of her daughter Helena to Hengist of Woodcroft, founder of Hogsmeade village.

Saturday, 14th August of our year 1005 when the sun meets the midday mark at the residence Ravenclaw in the glens of Scotland.

Helena Ravenclaw slipped out of her family home with the help of a small bronze key she had duplicated whilst her mother was sleeping. She had sent previously mentioned mother off to fetch her wedding dress from the tailor's. Rowena had been thrilled to hear that Helena had reconsidered her stance on marrying Hengist, but hadn't trusted her daughter enough to leave the house unlocked.

Oh mother, Helena thought. After all these years, thou still underestimatest me.

There was no way Helena would be marrying that hideous old wart. So she had devised a plan to run away, but not before a trip down to her favourite lake. Rowena would think that Helena had fled the country by the time she returned, not hiding in a small cabin not twenty leagues from their house. Sometimes, the simplest solution worked best.

And this way, Helena would be able to hold out hope - hope that her childhood friend who she had treated so wrongly would come for her one last time.

Helena was seven years old when her mother told her to leave her books inside and make friends with the village children. Apparently, books made for a lonely child, though Helena found that other children made her feel lonelier still.

She hadn't expected to meet Septimus. The youngest child of seven, he had spent all of his time studying spellbooks and practicing magic, hoping to make a name for himself, since his parents hadn't seen fit to give him a proper one. Who named their child after a number?

They had practiced their magic and gone on hidden adventures, but Helena made sure that her dress was always clean before her mother returned. A simple "Episkey", learnt from her mother's friend Helga, would do the charm every time.

Placing her bag filled with provisions, clothes and her five most cherished books - the joy of enlarged purses - in the hut, Helena stripped down to her shift and decided to bask on one of the small islands in the centre of the lake. With her curls pinned up under a hat, she would seem like any other girl out in the nice weather.

Settling down with a Muggle book of fairytales, she absentmindedly itched the small mark on her wrist, shaped like a hawk. She had never paid it much attention, not until her father had told her about soulmates when she was eleven, before he died.

'I wish with all of my being that thou findest thy soul mate with haste,' he said, patting the seat next to him.

Helena crawled up to him, curious as to what legend he would tell her next. She would never bear his name - the name of a Muggle was never good enough for the likes of Rowena Ravenclaw - but she would bear his stories close to heart, for he was a storyteller, a bard, a collector of histories around the British Isles.

'A distinguishing mark is given to each soul to guide them on their path to true love. Remember child, find thy pair, and thou willst find thy heart. I wish upon thee as much happiness as thy mother and I have found in each other's arms.'

He turned her palm over to show her the small shape of her bird, revealing his own mark on his collarbone to be a book. Helena thought it suited him. It suited Rowena too, although she was too busy teaching at Hogwarts, where Helena would soon attend, to read much with her daughter any more.

Rowena had been convinced it was an eagle, the same as her friend Hengist of Woodcroft. Hengist was a good man with a solid income and high standing - the perfect man one could wish for one's daughter.

Helena, needless to say, did not wish to marry a man twice her age, but as Rowena was the wise, the sage, the knowledgeable, no one had listened to her own cries for help. Her father was no longer around to have her mother see reason, and the wedding ceremony had been planned without her.

When Helena turned twenty, she knew what it was she wanted to do with her life. She would write down people's stories, their hopes, their dreams, their aspirations. She would collect them and capture them with her words, as her father had once before her. She would cherish them with her heart, since she had given up long ago on being with her true love.

After all, when Helena put a person's tale to words within her books, she felt as though she had captured a small part of that person's soul. This was not a thing to take lightly, and she felt an anxious fluttering of her heart when she imagined all of the tales faded into darkness.

Now, Helena had brought a blank book, her quill, her ink - the tools of her future trade. That was all she needed to make a difference, to find the lost and the hidden and bring them to the light. There was no room for failure.

A shout brought her out of her thoughts. She stood up, wary as to who it could be, prepared to jump into the water and swim for her belongings. Spotting the figure on the shore, she sighed in relief.

It was only Septimus.

He had come after all.

Helena had written the stories whilst Septimus lived them. Brimming with ambition, he wanted to travel the world, to do something, to be something other than the wealth and the name his family brought him.

Helena could already see their future in her mind's eye, roaming the world before settling down and telling their grandchildren of their own tale, their own story, making sure that they knew what love was. She would remind her own children that it was good to have dreams, to love, to laugh, and never impose the choice upon them. She would give them a warm childhood, unlike the cold upbringing of her own mother.

Helena was seven years old when she first met Septimus. They went adventuring in the forest, in the creeks, until Septimus fell from a tree he was scouting from and tore his shirt in two.

Helena had rushed to his side to staunch the bleeding sustained from the branches, only to notice the hawk in the middle of his back, identical to the one on her wrist. At the time she had found it intriguing, a secret that tightened the bonds between them.

It was not until her fifteenth birthday that her mother had banned her from seeing him, warning her against those placed in Slytherin, their evil nature and blood prejudice.

Septimus had been her only friend, and yet still she had been so lonely.