“Come, man!” Salazar Slytherin pounded the table. “Do you not see the danger in exposing ourselves in this way? In polluting our bloodline with the traits of Muggles?”

“Salazar, if they have magical powers, why should we not teach them? Are you implying we cannot best the Muggles if it came to a struggle?” Godric Gryffindor raised an eyebrow.

“Hardly, Godric. I only believe it more beneficial to avoid a battle than to win one. Bringing those who are not of our world into it.... they bring a host of troubles with them! The Muggle-borns are corrupting our society, destroying our values and customs with their ignorance. Families who have no stake in our survival will use their newly found knowledge for their own devices. We are leaving ourselves open to betrayal and destruction from the inside.” Here, he turned to Rowena Ravenclaw for approval. “It seems only logical that we hide ourselves from this threat entirely, and not admit those whose blood is not our own.”

“Families would not turn on their own, Salazar! A father would not betray his son for his own gain,” Godric cried.

Rowena ignored his outburst and acknowledged Salazar’s appeal of her reason with a slight nod. “I find it far more illogical not to accept those students, Salazar. Which would damage us more- a handful of Muggles given free understanding and a minor place in our world, or untrained wizards casting spells unbeknownst, terrifying their families and neighbours with inexplicable feats? I would rather have a few Muggles given controlled access, and witches and wizards who know what they are doing, than men and women wielding magical power outside of our influence. Such a situation could only lead to increased mistrust.... and burnings.”

Salazar snorted. “My dear lady, how much magic could one of such low blood do without training? You have seen those students.... they come here far behind others of their age. If we did not tell them they could do magic, and train them in the same manner as the monkeys in a menagerie, they would not be able to levitate a feather, let alone terrify their neighbours. How much damage could one do without a wand? Besides, if the filthy Muggles insist upon burning each other, I say let them.”

Rowena daintily shrugged her shoulders. “Hazelwood is not altogether difficult to come by, Salazar. Branches of hazel are already used by Muggles to ward off evil; willow is plentiful as well. The risk is not just imagined, and we cannot justify allowing murders of any sort if we can stop them.”

Salazar shrugged his shoulders back at her, as Godric began again. “Surely, my good man, surely you do not believe that a brother would betray his brother simply over a difference in ability? Trust would carry through. Bonds of family, of love and friendship would be enough to maintain our safety.”

Salazar turned to glare Gryffindor right in the eye, before flatly questioning him. “Have you never heard the story of Cain and Abel?”

“Salazar.” Helga Hufflepuff put a hand on the furious man’s arm. “Salazar, Godric, please. It is my birthday.”

Godric caught up Helga’s hand and kissed it. “The lady is right. We should be celebrating the occasion and honouring Helga this evening. No more arguing tonight, eh?”

Salazar smirked, nodding to Helga. “Indeed. We should stop in honour of such a fair lady, especially as she so strenuously objects to disagreement of any sort.”

Helga’s laugh sparkled as Salazar patted her hand. “Hardly, Salazar. I do not object to disagreement, only to expressing it so violently. You were both about to come to blows!”

Salazar smirked. “I should not strike such an old friend over a mere argument, certainly not as I would be sure to swiftly defeat him. I should not embarrass him in front of you gentle ladies.”

“What ho!” Godric jumped to his feet, laughing and throwing his hat upon the table. “Embarrass me, my friend? I think you have an over-generous opinion of your duelling skills. I would have you at my mercy in a matter of mere moments!”

“You are so poetic with your words, Godric. Can you fight so eloquently?” Salazar rose from his seat, grinning.

“Steel or wands, my good man? Shall it be steel or wands?” Godric grinned back, rising to face Salazar. The two men drew their blades and began an elaborate duel, neither striking particularly fiercely, nor with any attempt at harm.

Rowena chuckled wryly as Helga screeched at the wizards in mock alarm. “You boys need to learn to behave yourselves! I warned you it would come to blows.”

Rowena hastily moved a candlestick out of the way as Godric spun away from Salazar, bumping into the table in the process. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, calm yourselves. We still have gifts for Helga, unless you knock a candle over and burn Hogwarts down, taking us and the gifts with it. It would be quite a shame, seeing as our students will be returning in a few weeks.”

“Ah! Indeed.” Godric sheathed his sword and bowed first to Salazar and then to Helga. “Allow me to present to you, my dear lady, a token of my estimation, in honour of this, the anniversary of your birth.” With a flourish (and an astoundingly hasty refocusing of attention), he presented a heavily embroidered bag to Helga. The forest scene on the side of the bag was brightly coloured and sunlit, and Helga could see centaurs flitting between trees. The clasp on the bag appeared to be gold, and Helga was astonished at the finery.

“Thank you, Godric. It is beautiful, and exactly the right size to contain the books I use to teach my students.” Helga smiled warmly at her oldest friend, the man who had first discussed with her the urge to educate and unite the wizarding world. Godric bowed again, with a flourish, and kissed her hand once more, before promptly sitting back at the table and knocking a candle over on top of his hat, which threatened to blaze before Godric quickly extinguished the whole mess.

Salazar snorted as he took his seat again. “You were never one for subtlety, my friend.”

Rowena shot Salazar a swift glare. “Hush. Helga, I have a broomstick for you. Now, now wait a minute; let me finish,” Rowena held up her hands to fend off Helga’s imminent protests. “You can sit facing sideways on this one, and it has been enchanted to not let its rider dismount without the rider speaking a specific phrase. It is the smoothest of all my flying broomstick enchantments so far, and I have invested a great deal of time to make it comfortable, safe, and easy. They really are so much faster than those old flying carpets.... and much, much faster than walking as you usually insist upon. This will make it much easier for you when we must travel through the air.”

Helga chuckled. “Thank you, Rowena. I am very grateful for your consideration. I never feel safe so far off the ground. I enjoy walking and feeling the solid ground, you know. You are sure this is the safest broomstick you have enchanted?”

Rowena just laughed as Helga embraced her. “Thank you, dear,” Helga said again.

The two wizards sat off to the side, chuckling at the spectacle. Salazar shook his head. “My dear Helga, they call you determined, but I am afraid you are just plain old stubborn.”

Helga laughed and swatted at the seated wizard. “Stubborn, you say? I suppose that means I should keep the roots you require for your most recent potion to myself for just a little while longer?”

Salazar rose, and bowed to the pink-cheeked woman standing before him. “Perhaps so, but I hope my gift may sway your resolve.” He withdrew a small book and extended it to her. “I believe you have been looking for a method of making certain your voice is heard? This can extend it to all of our posterity.”

Helga took the small book in her hands. The cover appeared to be made of a matte dragon hide. The green book was quite small and unassuming next to Godric’s glittering bag. It had no title, no shining lettering of any sort, and when Helga lifted the cover, she realized the pages were empty except for a short letter from Salazar, which she read silently.

“I thought you could write in it, keep memory of the good things, keep a record of what you wish to hold on to in the difficult times.”

Helga glanced up at Salazar, who appeared to be holding his breath. “Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes glistening. “Thank you so very much!” She suddenly embraced the slightly stunned man, who blinked as he began to stroke her hair. She looked up at him and flashed a dazzling smile. Salazar laughed and spun the witch around, knocking into the table.

“Again, with the candlesticks!” Rowena hurried to keep yet another flame upright.

Helga laughed and grasped her friend’s hand. “Oh, let them fall, and we shall all go down simultaneously in a fiery blaze, happy together.”

Rowena rolled her eyes, but Godric pressed a goblet of wine into Rowena’s free hand and grasped her shoulder. “A toast then,” he proclaimed, picking up his own goblet. “Here is to a beautiful witch and a dear friend on her birthday, and per her request, to going down together in a fiery blaze of glory.” He drained his goblet, and his friends laughed and followed suit.

Salazar Slytherin stalked out of the castle and onto the grounds. He had just left the bedside of the wounded son of a particularly powerful local lord. The boy was one of Salazar’s favourite students, a talented young wizard with strong familial connections. The lord was with his son at the moment and Salazar had spent the better part of an hour convincing the man that the child would be all right, and that proper measures would be taken to assure the safety and strength of the school in the future.

The crisp autumn air was just starting to hint at the winter ahead. The grounds were clean and neat in the sunlight. There were no signs of the Muggle mob that had raged past the gates the night before- the King’s Army, indeed. If so many students had not ended up in the Hospital Wing, Salazar would have laughed at the ludicrousness of such a ragtag band of snivelling peasants holding such a title. As it was, contempt coursed through the wizard. Between the blind fervour of the Muggles and the ineptitude of most students, a great deal of damage had been done to Hogwarts.

Salazar strode across the grass towards the lake. Godric stood on the other side, where the fires had burned the night before, staring at his boots. At the sight of his colleague, Salazar’s fury from the night before returned in full force. The plebeian father of one of Godric’s students had apparently reported “a coven of witches and the like” to the passing army in return, no doubt, for a hefty sum of gold. Although the founders had been able to contact assistance and diffuse the situation quickly, enough harm had been done. This incident could only support Salazar’s claims that the school must not allow entrance to just any scum who could cause sparks to come from a wand. It was further proof that men, especially Muggles, inherently looked out for themselves and their own, even at the cost of others who were close to them.

Slytherin was thankful that he had at least started preparing ways to protect this school. He had carefully forged alliances with the powerful wizards across the land, paying careful attention to those with great wealth and close vicinity. There were powerful enchantments that could be enacted around the site of the school, closing it to all Muggles and all others who were likewise unwelcome. Most importantly, he had his secret hidden in the bowels of the school, a way to ensure that his legacy would be protected, even if he himself had to leave one day. Salazar had felt for quite a bit of time now that such a day was inevitable.

For the sake of friendship, for the respect he had for his powerful colleagues, Salazar had not forced the issue of lesser men defiling the wizarding community’s lifeblood, but the time had clearly come where it was no longer avoidable. Slytherin had crossed to the other side of the lake, and stood within the trees that almost reached the water’s edge. Godric continued to stare at the ashes scattered about his feet. Salazar might have felt sorry for his friend at one time, but after Gryffindor’s rash actions and foolhardy beliefs had almost destroyed the careful alliances Salazar had built (for Hogwarts’ protection, no less!), whatever patience the wizard might have had was now gone. It was just like Godric, really, moping by the lake, poetically mulling on the unfortunate circumstances that had befallen him, leaving Salazar to tend to the practical realities of keeping the school running. The remorseful man made a romantic picture, gazing at the ground, the trees, the sky, but Salazar was the one who was truly dealing with the aftermath of last night’s attack.

Godric glanced across the lake to the castle’s towers. Salazar strode out from behind the tree, unable to contain himself any longer. “Do you believe me now?” he hissed. His friend looked startled, and opened his mouth to reply, but Salazar did not give him the chance. “‘Never could a family turn on its own members,’ you said, but you were wrong, and it almost cost the life of one of my students.”

Godric took a step back as his enraged friend continued to step toward him. “Salazar, I know how gravely I misjudged the situation. I did not think that-”

“No!” Slytherin whispered viciously. “You did think! Those were the only words you listened to, your own thoughts. What you failed to do was listen to my warning. You prattle on about unity and listening to one another, but you do not bother to follow your own advice. You are convinced that you know better than the rest of us. Helga and Rowena might allow themselves to be subjected so, but I will not. I have had it with you.”

“What do you mean?” Godric had stepped back to the very edge of the granite hanging over the lake. “Slytherin, old friend- what are you saying? Surely you are not threatening to leave?”

Salazar and Godric faced off, their backs held stiffly erect. Slytherin’s body was a dark outline against the blazing sun behind him. His eyes were narrowed against the glittering water behind Gryffindor, but he never broke eye contact. The tension screamed through Godric’s veins, leaving his senses uncomfortably alert. Salazar took a step forward, raising his arm as he did so.

Gryffindor jerked backward, his hat toppling off his head and into the water. He lost his balance and fell so that he sat on the ground, looking up into Slytherin’s face. Gryffindor watched as his friend’s face quickly changed from concerned to hurt to coldly furious. The dark-haired wizard laughed angrily. “Old friend, eh? Is that why you pull away when I go to clap you on the shoulder and once more promise to hold my tongue and go against my better judgment for the sake of friendship? Do you trust all your friends in this manner, ‘old friend’?” Slytherin stood above Gryffindor, snarling. “I would have stayed for you, you know, ‘old friend,’ I really would have, but it is altogether too clear that such would not be your intention. It would obviously be best for all if I depart.”

“But-but there must be some reason to stay, Salazar.” Gryffindor stammered desperately up at his colleague. “Something kept you here before.”

“Yes, something kept me here, Gryffindor. Our friendship kept me here, but that is apparently dead. A love kept me here- oh! Look at how surprised our brash one is.” Slytherin laughed mirthlessly. “Yes, a woman loves me, and fights against my demons to keep me here with you. It is her mistake, her downfall. I love her, as well, and that is mine. I trusted that she would be enough, that you would be enough, that this union of the Four Founders of Hogwarts would be enough. I trusted that maybe there would be enough good in this world through our bonds, that I would not need to fight for our protection, and that was a grave error. For all our sakes, now, I am leaving. I will bow to you and your faulty ways no longer.”

“Please, the school needs you. I-I need y-”

“Hah! You need me, indeed,” Slytherin sneered. “You do not even realize how very much I do to hold this school together. You ignore my efforts, you ignore my input, and you ignore my counsel. This endeavour is doomed to failure, Gryffindor. I thought that maybe you were right, and I did not fight against the errors myself, and now it is too late.”

Gryffindor set his jaw. “Even if you go, we will last. Hogwarts will be the greatest institution in the wizarding world, Slytherin. We will replace you and we will grow and continue throughout the years.”

Slytherin snorted. “Without my contributions, this school may last, but it will not be worthy of its existence. I shall make a few last efforts here in the hopes of saving my legacy, and then I will depart. I only hope future generations do not remember me as the fool I was for listening to you.” He turned on his heel, and strode away, leaving Gryffindor to Summon his hat out of the lake.

Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were waiting for him on the steps to the castle. Helga’s eyes were wide and her face pale, but Rowena’s features were composed. “I am finishing this week’s lessons and then departing,” he informed the two witches.

Helga gasped, a strangled sound, but Rowena only nodded. “I suppose I have seen that coming. I believe you are making a mistake, but I have told you that already, and I will not beg.”

Slytherin bowed in mock civility. “That will certainly make it easier on us all.” He pushed past the witches and strode toward the dungeon.

Ravenclaw did not turn from the door, but Helga glanced at her and then hurried after Salazar. “Well, I will. I will beg! Salazar, please!” The wizard ignored her, but hastened his pace. She gathered up her skirts as she ran after him down the stone steps into the cold dungeons. “Salazar, please, you must not do this. You must not give up now!”

Slytherin spun to face her. “Do you never give up, then? Do you fight pointless battles, knowing you will lose, only for the sake of not giving up?” he questioned fiercely. “Yes, Helga,” he hissed, “I give up on this school, and on that arrogant wizard I used to call my friend, and on that damnably clever witch who logically resolves her quandaries, yet believes in nothing. I want nothing to do with it. They are foolish, and with no standards, and I regret the day I allied myself with this idiotic plan. This school could have been the salvation of our kind, the place that could have heralded us as the very saviours of magic. In the end it will be overrun by Muggles and filth and so yes, I give it up.”

Helga let go of her skirt and took a step forward, her hemline brushing the hard, earthen floor. “And me, Salazar? You will give up on me as well?” She grasped his hands, her troubled eyes locked with his own.

He raised his eyebrows and answered her in a steady voice. “I am not asking you to come with me, so yes, I give up on you as well.” He pulled his hands away and continued down the dungeon corridor.

Helga stood still, her arms hanging loosely at her sides. “Why, Salazar? You’ve told me the reasons for the others. Why do you give up on me?” Her voice was controlled and rang out surprisingly clear.

Salazar turned his head to look at her. He had been watching the water trickle down the wall beside him, and the drips echoed in his ears as Helga stood, calmly asking, not begging any longer, not desperately trying to keep him, but honestly wondering. “You keep trying to save me from my fate. There is nothing I wish to be saved from. Your blind faith in me is touching, but it is blind, and you should not trust everyone the way you do. There are better wizards for you to spend your energy and your compassion on. I do not wish to keep your pity.” He looked in her eyes just long enough to see the first tear fall, before he spun away to hurry down the corridor and keep his own misery contained within his anger.

Helga sat in her chamber, her green writing book on her desk in front of her, listening to the shouts from above her head. Godric and Rowena were arguing again.

“Do you take Slytherin’s side against my own yet again?”

“Godric, this is not about sides! Oh, stop waving your hat at me. Salazar had some valid points about our protection. I am not saying to hide completely, only to be careful.”

“Be careful about what, woman? As far as I can see, the largest danger to us is Slytherin and his legacy! Did you hear what he said as he left? That his legacy remained here? I can hardly dare to think what that snake has done to befoul my school.”

“Our school, man! Hogwarts is our school! I have spent just as many hours slaving away to build up this idea as you have. This whole building is my design! How could Salazar have corrupted it?”

“If you aided him, I am sure it would have been possible. Have you betrayed this school, Rowena?”

“I would never! And what do you accuse me of, Godric- betraying this school, or betraying you?”

The noise barely entered Helga’s perception, but she raised her willow wand and placed an Imperturble Charm on her ceiling anyway.

Helga’s quill was lying untouched next to her covered inkwell. She had been unable to write since Salazar’s departure. She did not even bother the attempt today and just sat rereading his words yet again. She rubbed her forehead wearily. Each time she read the words, it was as though she expected them to be different, but they had not changed yet.

She also kept walking by Salazar’s empty chambers, but they had not changed yet either.

After a few weeks of this, Helga was too numb to feel hurt anymore. Every day was about her students and her colleagues; her attention was focused completely on helping everyone around her get through the day. Her students, at least, continued to learn and grow; Godric and Rowena were hurtling to pieces rather explosively. It seemed incredibly important to Helga that she save the unions remaining so that if Salazar returned, they could all move on together.

Somewhere in the past week, that “if he returns” had subtly changed to an “even if he never returns.”

An abrupt pounding on her door made Helga jump. It was as if someone was attempting to bash it in. The sudden realization came to Helga, and she quickly rose, smoothing her skirt as she moved to open the door.

An enraged Godric stood outside. “I say, are you deaf? I was about to try and break your door down. Did you not hear me yelling for you?”

Helga kept her composure. “No, Godric, I did not hear you. Imperturbable charm, you see. Luckily, I included a loophole for knocking upon my door.”

“Ah.” Godric seemed to realize what precipitated the casting of the charm, and had the grace to flush the slightest bit, swiping his hat from his head and twisting in his hands.

Purposefully ignoring his discomfort, Helga asked, “How is she?”

“Ravenclaw is impassive as always. Nothing I say seems to sway her mind these days. The wench is starting to aggravate me.” His nostrils flaring, Godric expounded further. “She insists upon taking his side, and I just-”

“I meant, in what state did you leave my dear friend?”

The wizard stopped his diatribe abruptly as he seemed to lose his steam. “She appears to be upset. I- I might have been a bit harsh, but- it is hard to hear- she is all...” Gryffindor sighed, glancing miserably into Helga’s bleak eyes. “Would you perhaps go talk to her? See if she is all right? I am afraid I find myself unable to do so at the moment...”

Helga looked into Godric’s eyes until he glanced down. “You might consider swallowing your pride, Godric. That would do wonders for your ability to go and talk to the woman you have hurt.” Godric flinched, but did not raise his head. A scornful sigh escaped her before she thought to stop it. This was not the first time Godric had come to her with this request. If not for him, however, than for Rowena, she would go. “Where did you leave her?”

Godric looked up again, the gratitude splashed across his face. “We were in the Great Hall, but as I left she ran up the staircase. I believe her to be heading to the top of the tower there.”

Helga nodded, and she started to stride past Godric. As she passed the miserable-looking man, however, she recognized that some subtle part of her still felt enough to appreciate Godric’s pain. She reached out and gently grasped his shoulder. She smiled gently at him, but as he held her gaze, he realized her smile never quite reached into the depths of her eyes. Without a word, she turned and pursued Rowena.

As Godric had assumed, the witch was on top of the tower, trembling and staring out at the lake while her broom rested on the floor by her feet. Her hands shook as she rested them on the low stone wall separating the tower from the sky. Each deep breath of spring air seemed to shake her body to its core.

“What did he say this time?” Helga asked.

One of Rowena’s palms slapped the stone beneath it. “He explicitly accused me of being in a romantic relationship with Slytherin. As if I would... as if I could...” The anger and desperation were evident in Rowena’s voice as she struggled to retain control of her speaking capabilities.

“He is blind, then.” Helga stated it softly, trying to avoid the temptation of melodrama. “He is blind, and we have never told him.”

Rowena spun around to face her. “Is that supposed to comfort me? I have shown this man nothing but devotion and trust and support and what advice I feel is merited. Just because I am logical enough to recognize the logic in a few of our former colleague’s ideas does not mean I would find logic in his bed as well.” She spat the words out as she started pacing.

Those words broke through to Helga. “He did not-”

Rowena laughed bitterly. “Not in as many words, but I could- I could see it behind his eyes.” Despite her best efforts, the witch was starting to cry. “It seems as if he has reduced me only to logic and callousness and I now represent all the evils Slytherin left behind for us to clean up.”

Helga rushed forward and embraced her friend. “He does care for you so much. He almost broke my door down, desperate to send me after you, afraid for how he had hurt you. I have known Godric even longer than you have, and I know he does not wish to hurt you. Please understand that he is just hurting and cannot cope with it.”

Rowena pulled away from her friend. “And will that idea comfort me either, Helga?” she snarled. “That he cares so little for my emotions that I am his outlet for his aggression at his principal competitor?”

“And his principal friend,” Helga whispered, but Rowena did not appear to hear her and continued seething.

“This made sense before, Helga. In the beginning, this made sense. There were four of us and we were friends. Then we were couples, and it made sense, but now he is irrational and the worst of it-” By now, Rowena was sobbing, but she forced herself on. “The worst of it is that I am irrational as well. He once asked me to trust him, to accept my emotions. I abandoned my logic for him, and now the world makes no sense at all.”

“Please,” Helga pleaded, “please, just give this a little more time to make sense, to fall back into place.”

“Oh, how can you ask me to give more still? What have you done to help, Helga? What have you given? Have you told Godric about you and Slytherin? How can you expect this to fall back into place without that little detail? Do you think that might have a bit of impact on Godric’s interaction with me?” Rowena’s piercing eyes held Helga’s gaze.

“I- I cannot. I simply cannot,” Helga stuttered, caught off guard.

Rowena smiled bitterly. “And you say I am your dearest friend. You cannot even do this small thing for me.”

“It is no small thing!” Helga cried, wrapping her arms around herself. “Loving him… I do not regret it… I would choose nothing else, even were I to go back in time… but Godric…”

“Godric will see it as a mistake, and when you do not agree, you will lose his friendship as well.” Helga looked down at Rowena’s words. The shrewd witch shook her head, laughing. “Though you do see it as a mistake, a mistake but not a regret. And even with such beliefs, you somehow expect the world to fall back into place.”

“It will,” Helga insisted. “I will tell him, Rowena… I just have to wait until the time is right. I am giving this the time it needs. I can barely think about it myself, let alone discuss it with Godric. Please, hold on.” Helga held Rowena’s gaze desperately. “He loves you, Rowena. I know he does. He will come to terms with anything for you.”

Rowena laughed bitterly. “After this argument, I wonder very much about that.”

Helga took another step towards her distraught friend, but Rowena shook her head. “Please,” Helga whispered, “Please, just trust him a little more. Please, do not give up on him.” Helga held out her hands, grasping both of Rowena’s shoulders, attempting to hold her stationary. “Please, just stay grounded a little longer.”

The trembling witch laughed again, a desperate and bitter laugh. “I cannot remain standing still while he tears my world down, Helga. I cannot do it. I have opened myself too much already, and I have to stay moving to protect what is left.” Rowena closed her eyes, as she gripped Helga’s shoulders, locking the two in a shuddering embrace. “If I am not moving it feels as though I am falling through the air, with nothing to hold onto. I am used to the wind, Helga, but I am also used to a broom beneath me, a broom which I can easily control.”

“Please, Rowena, please just stay and give this all a little time.”

Rowena opened her eyes and smiled slowly. She let go of Helga’s shoulders and turned to reach for her broom, forcing her friend to release her own grip. “I am not leaving, Helga. I have students who need to be taught. Perhaps there is even hope for Godric and myself. At any rate, I have poured too much effort into this school to leave now. It would be highly illogical.” The smile did not fade, but then again, it was not a cheery smile. “I do not necessarily believe that what Godric and I have can be saved, but I will not be like Salazar and leave, abandoning my students in the middle of lessons. Eventually, this pain will end, and the world will make sense again. I can force this out if it comes to that.”

Helga felt an odd pulling sensation in her stomach, but could not come up with the words to respond to Rowena. The numbness which had pervaded Helga’s existence since Salazar’s departure enveloped her once more.

Rowena mounted her broom and pushed off, hovering just beyond the tower’s edge. “Thank you for the effort, Helga. You are my closest confidante, my dearest friend, even though I wish you would tell him. I appreciate your concern, even if I cannot believe as blindly as you do.” With that, the witch took a steep dive, levelling off just before she would have hit the ground. Her hair streamed behind her as she climbed into the sky and moved off away from the lake and the sun setting behind it.

Again, Helga was left speechless as she stared at Rowena’s retreating back. There was a horrible spot in her heart, right next to the spot that knew Salazar would not return, that feared Rowena and Godric would not hold together either. Rowena would stay, but in enough time, the relationships that were left would collapse. Helga still waited to really feel the effects of that knowledge, but her numbness did not change yet, either.

Helga returned to her room several minutes later, leaving her friend to flit about in the sky and calm herself down. The witch sat down at her desk, picked up her quill and bit the tip of it. She glanced out the window and watched as Rowena took another steep dive. Helga sighed, and placed her quill next to the inkwell again. She picked up her book, and once more read the words on the first page.

“To My Dearest Helga,

For all that you have done to make me welcome, for all that you have done to patiently earn my trust, for all that you have done in standing by our dreams when many would not, for all that you do to maintain a healthy peace between us all, I thank you. I pray that you continue to be a steadying force in this institution and in my life.

For your trust, for your understanding, for your love, I cannot begin to thank you. I pray that it remains enough for us both.

With as much love as it is possible for one like me to give,
Your Salazar.”

Gryffindor stood on the steps of the school, staring out at the sun lowering itself over the lake. The students had left that morning, and afterwards, he had somehow abandoned all restraint he had held while they were present. Gryffindor had allowed all of his anger and hurt to pour out while he and Rowena had stood together in the entrance hall. He had yelled at her before, but this time went beyond anything he had ever done. Rowena’s face refused to depart from his sight; her strangled sobs repeated themselves in his ears. He heard the rustling of a skirt behind him, and for a moment he could not breathe, wondering, but then Helga Hufflepuff’s tired voice grasped his attention.

“Godric... you could not. Please, tell me Rowena misunderstood.”

The man turned to look at his companion. He had been with her for so many years now but had never realized how she had aged, unless it was just the shadows of the entrance hall that exaggerated the hollows under her eyes. It must only be the lack of sunlight that caused her eyes to seem so very dark. Godric clung tightly to the idea that Helga Hufflepuff held some spark that he could borrow to clear away the devastated dreams that collected around him now. “My old friend,” he chuckled mirthlessly, “How could I say anything that could be misunderstood? I was plain as day.”

“Do you realize she is leaving now? How will Hogwarts survive her loss so soon after Salazar’s? Godric, do you even realize what you have done?”

Gryffindor set his jaw and stared through the woman in the entrance. “I did not intend for her to leave. Her academic talents have been a great boon to the students. It is a pity they will no longer benefit from her tutelage. Still, perhaps it is better to have her gone. I cannot pretend that it would have been pleasant to be around her every day, nor do I think she would have enjoyed my company anymore. At least the students have gone for the summer. We have time to replace her.”

Hufflepuff’s body seemed to momentarily shiver. “Oh, you did not tell her to leave, but what else was she to do? How could you? Abandoning this place or a life with the forced presence of the wreckage of her true dreams- how could she make such a choice, Godric?”

“She chose. She already chose him. I simply told her that I could not allow her to keep my heart as well. It would be too foolish to pursue any romantic notions with someone who is obviously using me to fill another’s gap, and certainly not Slytherin’s. I could not face the pa- I could not allow her to risk this vision of ours any further.”

“Oh, Godric...” His name broke on her lips, her ragged breath placing a funny accent on the once familiar sound. Helga stepped out of the shadows and Godric saw her face clearly. Tears filled her eyes, but it was the simple pain in her gaze that caught the man’s attention. She closed her eyes as if steadying herself, and then looked him in the eye. “You have no idea what you have done. How could you be so blind? Do you think a woman with her pure intellect could have been the match to Salazar? Do you truly think her logic could have allowed her to love a man so obviously averse to being loved?”

Godric was suddenly very aware of the pounding of his heart and the slight breeze on the back of his neck. “But... but he was loved... he told me... I heard...”

Helga shook her head softly. “I... loved Salazar. I complemented him, Godric, softened his edges and held his darkness up to the light. He in turn made up for some of my inadequacies, enabled me to fight my flaws. Only I could trust that he would not destroy what little flame we had. Do you think Salazar could be loved by a woman with any understanding of the risk involved? Rowena never had the patience, the ability to love without expecting something back. She needed your bravery, your ability to face the dark, much in the way Salazar needed it. That is why she must leave, Godric! She cannot face loving you without your courage to support her.”

Gryffindor’s face was deathly pale against the light of the sunset. “I- I love her, Helga. I have to-” but before the distraught man could rush into the castle, a sharp gust of wind blew off the tower above him, lifting his hat up in the air to float for a moment before being gathered into the arms of his companion. He jerked his head up in time to see the blue of Ravenclaw’s cloak streaming behind her broomstick as she hurtled off the tower and away towards the mountains. “NO! Rowena- I take it all back! I take it back!” The veins in his neck bulged as Godric screamed at the woman he loved. He sprinted on the ground in the direction she had gone, oblivious to the fact that her broom was quickly outpacing him. “I am sorry!” he howled at her retreating figure, stumbling over his own feet. Whether she never heard him, or simply chose to ignore him, Godric would never know. Ravenclaw never looked back.

In a panic, Gryffindor turned back to the castle. He stumbled on the steps, and Helga reached out to catch his fall. He grasped her arms and pulled himself up, leaning heavily into his old friend. “We have to go after her,” he gasped. “Where’s my broom? If I hurry, I can catch up. I will fly until I reach her.”

Helga shook her head gently. “You will never catch Rowena in the air. She flies more swiftly than anyone.”

“Then I will search until I find her! She has to come down sometime.”

Again, Helga shook her head. “She is clever enough to stay hidden, and she will not want to be found.”

Gryffindor took a deep breath. “Then what can I do? I must do something; I have to try!”

Helga laughed, a soft, empty sound. “Oh, you can try, Godric. Maybe that will mean something to her. Perhaps she will return. You will not catch her, though, and you will not find her. It is altogether possible that we will never see Rowena Ravenclaw again.”

The man sagged beneath the weight of the thought. If he could deny that idea, then perhaps there was hope. Until then, he would have to face it. He closed his eyes, imagining a pair of deep blue eyes staring back at him until he could take it no more. He fixed his eyes on the flesh and blood woman before him, and this time there was no denying the deadness of her gaze. “We will do this, Helga. We will hold this school together and remain waiting for her to come back. I will keep fighting as you support me, old friend, and I will stay steadfast and you will help.”

Godric was ready to fall into the always-welcoming embrace of the woman who had been like a sister to him. He reached for her cheek to brush away a stray tear, but Helga put a steadying hand on his shoulder and then stepped away from him.

“Helg-” he started, but once more, she shook her head. His gaze bored into her eyes, but she appeared to be looking at something far beyond the man in front of her.

“I am so tired.” As the woman sighed the words, her shoulders slumped as if she had been holding up a burden she had just released. She turned her eyes to truly look at Gryffindor. “Oh, my old friend... I am so tired.” The sunlight reflected in that solitary tear, making it look as if a flicker of fire rested on her cheekbone. As she glanced down at the hat in her hands, the tear rolled down her face and fell towards the ground. Unconsciously following it with his eyes, Gryffindor noticed the satchel at Hufflepuff’s feet. It was at that moment he understood.

“I cannot do this alone,” he pleaded. “We have four houses of students... there were four of us to lead them... Please, I can replace Ravenclaw if I have to, but I cannot replace you all.”

“I cannot stay. I wish... I wish we could all still be here, but there is no way to go back. We have muddied the dream too much.” She smiled at him, and for a moment there was an echo of the old glow in her eyes. “You can still save this idea. Find more teachers. You can lead as a sole headmaster and take Salazar’s replacement as your deputy. If you need to keep the houses, you can find another way to sort the children with our qualities when we are gone, but there might be a better way. Keep educating the children- teach them our mistakes.” She reached down and grabbed a handful of the dirt at the castle’s base. “This is a good place. These were good dreams. Oh, Godric!” Hufflepuff clutched the hat to her chest with her earth-streaked hands. “There is still hope! There must be. I simply cannot-” but the woman’s voice broke and she had to take a deep breath before continuing. “I cannot stay to see this through any longer.”

“So what will you do?” Gryffindor’s voice was dead, and he could feel it. “Are you taking a broom? Your journey will undoubtedly be long.”

The woman shook her head. “I enjoy walking and feeling the ground beneath my feet.”

“Will you search for Slytherin?”

Hufflepuff looked out over the lake. The breeze lifted her hair slightly from her face. “I will have my eye out for him, but I do not believe he wants to be found either. I cannot altogether abandon the idea of happiness with him, but I can fully disbelieve it. I suppose it is time to move on.” The ghost of a smile haunted her lips. “In the end, our strengths failed us all, Godric. She ignored the logical signals, you were too afraid of the risk, he trusted others to carry through his dreams, and I do not have the strength to keep supporting them.” The witch was serene now as her gaze drifted across the grounds, from the sky to the lake to her colleague’s tight face. “It is time to begin again.”

Gryffindor stiffly reached for the satchel at his old friend’s feet. It was light, appearing to contain only a wand, ink, quill, and writing book. “This is all you will take?”

Hufflepuff smiled as she took the bag from his hands. “The earth will provide, as always.” Hufflepuff pressed the hat back into its owner’s hands. She touched his cheek, and then turned away, walking towards the forest. Unlike Ravenclaw, she paused at the forest’s edge and turned back to the castle. She smiled sadly at Gryffindor one more time and then continued on her way, disappearing into the darkness.

It was then that Gryffindor begin to understand. Slytherin questioned the light, while Ravenclaw understood and recognized the balance. Gryffindor defied the dark, while Hufflepuff worked within it. Yet Hufflepuff was right, and they had each failed to listen to each other and to their own strength. Gryffindor stood on the steps of the school they had founded and stared at the last flickering glints of sunlight on the shore of the lake. All that was left where the earth and water met with the fire and wind were sparks on the mud, and as the night began, Godric Gryffindor pressed his hat to his face and sobbed.