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.