Chapter Text
“We’re close to Court, just pass this grouping of trees,” Heathcliff said as he glanced out the window - pushing through the curtains. “I’d suggest everyone gather their things. Idella will want prompt attendance. My guess is a loose tour of the castle will follow soon on arrival, then everyone disperses. We are on her schedule, after all. The quicker we’ll be, the less tetchy she will be. Plus the quicker we’ll be, the quicker she’s off to do her own thing. Trust me when I say, it’ll be better for everyone if we adhere to her.”
Salazar shut his book and strolled off into his own room quietly.
He was quiet when he left Helga’s room this morning. Quiet all day. Composed on the outside, Helga observed. But she was sure he was far from composure internally. She still couldn't discern the fight he had with Heathcliff yesterday. Nor what Godric had mentioned about the Fidelius Charm. But she didn’t dare bring it up, for today was much more quiet between all of them. She wanted to keep it that way.
Helga already had everything - her journal sitting in her lap as she wrote. And the locket she wore underneath her high-neck gown - hidden from everyone here. She stared down at her journal, scratching her thumbnail along the edge of the quill she borrowed from Rowena.
31 March, 982
Let there be a light.
In the darkest parts of me.
If you take me down, I will bleed freedom.
If I remain standing,
I will still bleed freedom.
“Hm,” Helga murmured to herself. Staring into the fire in front of her, she finally decided to ask for another’s opinion. Because she realized she needed to block her personal, crude views of her own work from here on out. “Rowena,” she called, until she looked up, finding a floating trunk making its way to the exit until it dropped completely with a heavy thud.
Rowena emerged, along with Godric and Salazar as their bags made their way to the carriage doors.
“Yes?” Rowena answered, sitting on the heated sofa next to Helga.
“What do you think of this?” Helga asked, sliding her the journal. Wide open. This was the first she had ever let anyone see her work, and she was indeed terrified. Because not only was she reading it, but so did Godric who hovered behind her, and Salazar who peered from the side of her.
Rowena dipped her head and read it for a moment before lifting her gaze to Helga’s. “I think it’s a brilliant affirmation,” Rowena gleamed.
Helga blushed, feeling relief rush over her. “Really?”
“Sounds like the beginning of a pre-battle declamation,” Godric noted. He squeezed Helga’s shoulder. “Might have to use it.”
“Or it’s about what she’s already been through,” chimed Salazar. The first words he spoke today. Helga shot him a faint smile and he discreetly returned one before it faded as quickly as it came.
“That too,” Godric agreed, nudging Salazar’s side.
Rowena nodded, “Definitely could be about what she’s been through.”
“It’s a trifle of what you all had to say,” Helga said as she shifted on the couch - Rowena sliding the journal back to her.
Helga closed it before flipping to another page. One was enough to start out with - the others could wait for another time. Those poems felt darker, much much darker. Perhaps one day she’d share more.
“What’s say you and I find dueling ground after the tour, Salazar?” Godric asked as they slumped on the sofa next to Helga.
“I say absolutely,” Salazar said, resting his hands on his stomach. His head turned to Helga and Rowena. “Only if they can join us.”
“Us?” Rowena asked, peering beyond Helga to Godric and Salazar.
“Do you know anything about sword fighting or combat?” Godric inquired. “Or how to properly use a sword and shield interchangeably without the risk of hurting yourself?”
Rowena looked to Helga as if the question was absurd and laughed. “No, no I don’t believe I do.” She knew about it, yet never had physically practiced anything of the sort. Her father never went to the extent of lending her a sword, she never had brothers like Helga who would teach her. Rowena never felt the need to learn. She looked at their almost dumbfounded expression and blinked. “Should I- are you both serious? You actually want me to learn combat?”
“Yes,” Salazar said with a smirk. “Ah,” he sighed as he rolled his head to Godric. “It’ll be like starting Level Zero and learning the basics all over again. Haven’t done that in a while.”
Helga repressed her urge to laugh. “Some say once you learn the advanced techniques, it feels near to impossible to go back to the basics.”
“We did it with you,” Godric said exultingly. “If we did it once, I am sure we can do it again.”
“There’s a parry ring inside the castle,” Heathcliff mentioned, sitting down across from the four. Apparently listening in on their conversation, Helga noted. “I’m sure we could make room if-”
“I prefer the outdoors,” Salazar objected sharply.
“Salazar,” Helga snipped, fully aware that if she was the one to say something, perhaps he’d actually listen. “Stop it. Heathcliff is merely offering a place for us to practice. He’s showing us some respect so why don’t we reciprocate it?”
“Why should I-“
“Respect goes both ways,” Helga snapped sternly. Until she took a deep breath and softened her voice, “Please, Salazar.”
Whether he was pretending to please Helga or was genuinely sincere—though Rowena doubted it—he raised a mocking brow at Heathcliff for a moment, before his lips curled into the faintest of smirks, his expression still as obstinate as ever. “Apologies.” His tone was laced with passive-aggression, and Helga struggled to maintain her composure. Bloody stubborn.
Heathcliff only studied him for a moment before giving a nod, not even saying a word of forgiveness.
Once their carriage halted, they knew they were there. The commotion of possible servants and members of the castle lining up to greet the new residents was muffled, yet boisterously loud at the same time. Horns blew, announcing arrival.
“Brace yourselves,” Heathcliff warned, waving his wand. The room around them began to spin, but they stayed perfectly still. Before long, all five of them were squeezed into a carriage designed for four. It looked ordinary now—gone were the golden drapes, replaced by a dull yellow. The once-lush, heated sofa had transformed into lavish red velvet seating, which duplicated itself on the opposite side, stretching from wall to wall. It was still beautiful, Helga thought, but no longer magical. The only signs of enchantment were them and whatever secrets lay hidden in their bags.
The air felt thick, the four of them barely breathing as Godric shuffled across, tripping over bags, and finally landed beside Heathcliff.
Breathe, Sunflower, Salazar comforted. You’re going rigid on me.
Whether it was the jitters of a new chapter ahead—new people, a new place to discover—or the subtle struggle to resist the urge to reach out for Salazar’s hand, Helga didn't quite realize how tight her chest had become. I should be the one telling you to breathe, she thought wryly, finally catching the faintest breath.
Forgive me if I’ve been coming off a little uneasy.
Uneasy? Salazar, you have been completely overwrought and tempersome - more so than usual.
There was still air between them for a moment.
It’s just been a rather confined space for me to be in for two days.
So cabin fever caused you to be overtly abrasive to Heathcliff?
Before he could respond, the doors swung open to reveal Idella, who quickly flashed a tight smile while scanning Helga. “Almost as flawless as me,” she remarked with obvious pride, giving a quick nod of approval to the braided coronet of Helga’s hair, crowned with a delicate circlet. Her own attire— a high-neck honey-colored satin dress paired with a black velvet cloak draped elegantly over her shoulders— seemed to meet her Aunt’s high standards. The kohl accentuating the golden flecks in her hazel eyes was a clear sign of her usual meticulous attention to detail. “Just don’t make a fool of yourself,” she added curtly before spinning on her heel.
Heathcliff was the first to step out of the carriage, only to put out his hand for Rowena - who was so gracious with every step. Helga was next, sliding her hand into Heathcliff’s as he guided her down.
She let go, thankful she didn’t trip on the descent.
But she nearly shrieked with surprise as Mairwen, Cadi, Mac, and Wynnifred all crashed into her legs with warm embraces. Until they dispersed - Cadi being lifted into the air by Salazar until she was placed on his shoulders. Mac was lifted and carried by Godric as he rested his head on Godric’s shoulder. Mairwen taking Rowena’s hand instinctively to drag her along. And Wynnifred took Helga’s hand.
When Helga looked up, she was instantly greeted by Owin followed by Delia. “Welcome to Court,” Delia greeted, smiling bright - her rose-pink gown offsetting her dark skin. She linked arms with Helga as they began to walk toward the lines of servants. “Helga, I have been utterly miserable without your brother here. And I'm thrilled to finally have my future sister to talk to - to have another girl at Court. Rowena, you, and I shall have our morning teas together, rain or shine.”
Helga stared in awe at her new home, the castle towering before her. Court seemed more like its own city, given its sheer size. The structure sat at the edge of a loch that stretched far beyond the horizon, reaching into the highlands in the distance. Surrounding it, the forest stood tall, its lush green trees wrapping around the castle like a protective cloak. The fortress was well-defended, with guards posted at the gate and patrolling the grounds. A row of them lined the path before them, like an imposing alleyway, their presence undeniable.
The castle was unlike any Helga had seen in the village, with an abundance of towers rising proudly against the sky. Each one offered a unique vantage point, granting sweeping views of the surrounding landscape. The gray stone walls were imposing, designed not only for grandeur but for protection. They spoke of safety—ensuring that those within its confines would remain secure, the community safeguarded by the very structure that towered above them all.
Taking a deep breath in, she smelled nothing but crisp, clean air. The wind humming through the trees.
“It’s divine here,” Helga mentioned, taking in the luxury, the beauty of it all. She was sure the inside would be much more grand. Was it too soon to say that? Probably. As they followed Idella through the gates, all the servants bowed. Helga knew it wasn’t for them - but for Idella.
“Some days, I don’t even know what to do with myself,” Delia said lightheartedly. “Though I bet you’ll always have something up your sleeve for us.”
Helga peered over her shoulder to Salazar, much more vibrant now given he had a child on his shoulders with more space to wander in. He tickled Cadi’s sides, causing her to burst out laughing and hunch over, hugging her forearms over Salazar’s eyes. She didn’t even know how he still managed to walk straight.
Owin slid up to Delia and peered to Helga as he said, “If you don’t mind, I’m going to steal this one from you.” Linked arms with her and pulled Delia away as they ran up to discuss wedding details with Helga’s parents.
Folding her hands in front of her, she put on a smile and bowed her head to each and every individual - almost feeling overwhelmed by the crowd. But she remained steady, focused as she lifted her skirts to ascend the twenty steps that lead into the castle.
“Allow me,” Heathcliff chimed, sneaking up from behind her. He bowed before her then offered his arm with ease. As if he was so used to doing this with who knew how many individuals. “We can’t have you escorting yourself into the ballroom, can we?”
“I’m fine, really,” Helga said, as she bunched up her skirt and began to ascend the steps. She could do this on her own. Rowena was. So why couldn’t she?
“Helga,” Idella called, not even bothering to turn around as she was escorted by another Guard. As if she overheard the entire conversation. “At Court it is impolite to reject someone of high importance such as His Grace. Take the Duke of Argyll’s arm and allow him to escort you for heaven’s sake.”
Biting her tongue, she nodded. Deciding that it wouldn’t be a good idea to make a scene when she had only just arrived. So she slipped her arm into his strong one…
“Chin up, my dear,” Idella ordered Helga again. Still didn’t even look at her.
Heathcliff leaned in to whisper as Helga craned her chin, “It’s like she has eyes on the back of her head.”
Helga bit back a laugh, her eyes flicking to her Aunt’s towering wig. "They’re probably hidden under that beehive of a wig she's wearing," she quipped, her voice laced with amusement. The wig seemed to have a life of its own, adding at least two heads' worth of height. She had to give her Aunt credit—either she was ahead of her time, or Helga had just never seen such an extravagant creation, adorned with ribbons and pearls like some grandiose crown.
Heathcliff managed a laugh but played it off as a cough as he escorted her into the ballroom. Releasing her arm from him, she could do nothing but take it all in.
“Have you ever seen anything like it?” asked Rowena, glancing up in awe to the arched wooden ceiling that had intricate carvings of tree branches - the king’s crest stamped in between each web of branch. Brimmed with golden faces of lions at each corner of the ball room. A mosaic of gray stone constructed the walls enclosing them in.
Floor to ceiling windows overlooked the sparkling water of the loch that was always rippling.
The fireplace was at least two horses wide to warm the winter months. Six chandeliers evenly spaced throughout the ballroom had twenty candles on each - all aflame.
It was a wide open space. Empty aside from the ones on the tour.
Idella turned sharply on her heel, her voice cutting through the air with authority. "This is the Grand Ballroom. I expect those of age to attend dance lessons daily. Owin, Delia—yours will be two hours each day, every day, as your wedding is fast approaching." She surveyed the room, her eyes sharp. "We host balls three times a month with other royals, so I expect all of you to maintain your etiquette and uphold the highest standards of noble propriety. Consider this a warning—no dereliction of duties will be tolerated here."
Helga merely raised her eyebrows at her Aunt.
“Moving on,” she said, briskly walking across the large ballroom - not even bothering to wait for the others.
Helga began to follow the rest of the group until she nearly stumbled - being pulled into a singular twirl from Salazar before his hand slid away. She tossed her head over her shoulder and tittered at him. “I thought you hated dancing.”
“Indeed. But I’ll find a way to tolerate it,” Salazar said, now walking beside her.
After touring the kitchens, the libraries, the lobby, studies, all that was left was…
“Helga, Rowena,” Idella addressed. “Your bedrooms are in the East Wing of the castle with Delia’s-” she gestured to the east side of the grand staircase behind her in the lobby that lined with marbled statues of legendary gods and goddesses from various cultures. Helga had one word to describe this place - expressive. Inspirational even - each room with its own personality and je ne sais quoi, so to speak. She was quickly swept through each one without a chance to take it all in. She knew she would need to explore later. “Godric, Salazar, Owin, yours are in the West Wing.
The rest of the Gwythers will be living in our guest house - I hope you can make do. There are eight rooms in it, out back.”
That was plenty of room, Helga thought. More than what her previous home allowed.
“Thank you, sister,” Enid said, nodding her head. “Truly.”
Idella merely rolled her eyes, nearling drawing a sneer. “I have little time for cordial gestures.” And with that, she was off down one of the halls, perhaps to the kitchens to demand a prompt, over-the-top dinner to be made in an hour despite the dish being at least seven or eight hours to prepare.
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Helga’s room was airy. Tailored to nature as she brushed her fingertips over leaves spilling out of hanging plants dispersed throughout. A soft yellow rug covered the flooring almost in its entirety. The walls of gray stone were evenly broken up by tall windows that looked out to the forest beyond. The hearth of the fire was large, yet almost quaint at the same time. It was a room fit for a queen or an empress, she was sure of it given its size. Yet it was all undoubtedly hospitable and warm.
Vines lined the walls in elegant, swirled patterns throughout. And when she inhaled, there was a deep wood scent mixed with an essence of woodlands, maybe a dash of crunchy leaves and pine in the autumn time.
Her bed was grand - golden damask curtains hung from each pillar with images of swallows and sunflowers embroidered in, matching the solid aureate duvet covers on her bed. Although the three candles on her nightstand - one appeared to be crooked so she went and twisted it back into place to match the levels of the other two.
She laid in her bed, feeling the comfort. Feeling solitude. At ease for once. And she closed her eyes…
Someone knocked on her door quietly and Helga woke up, not even realizing how much time had passed. “It’s open,” she called, refusing to stand and walk all the way over there. She brushed a palm over her eyes and blinked several times to wake herself up from her unintentional nap. “Heathcliff?”
He emerged from the shadows in the wooden archway in nothing but a loose white shirt and brown braies tucked into his boots. Holding what seemed to be a silver tray of food. “Dinner was sent to all of your rooms tonight. Took me a while to convince Idella but-”
“Thank you,” Helga said as her eyes scanned the room until she found a hand carved table - the surface obscurely shaped given it was a glossed, thick slice of a tree. “Just set it over there,” Helga pointed with her head. She watched him head to the table and queried, “Are the other trays already delivered to everyone else?”
Straightening his posture, he turned to look at her and nodded. “About an hour ago.”
Why did he deliver hers so late? And- “How long was I sleeping?”
He shrugged, ambling toward her. “Four hours at most.”
Four hours?! “Shit!” Helga snapped under her breath. She was going to explore the castle before it got dark. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she grew tense and flicked her head up to him realizing- “Apologies.”
He raised a brow and tucked his hands into his pockets. “For?”
“Cursing,” Helga replied, completely forgetting this was someone formal, someone who didn’t know her enough to-
“And why apologize for that?”
She knotted her eyebrows together. Debating how honest she wanted to be with him. Being prudent about her choice of words. “Because you’re so-” What was he? Proper? Serious?
He waited for an answer, sitting at the very edge of her bed that still seemed quite a wide distance between them. Bowing his head to his chest, he sighed, “It’s my disposition as a knight and Duke combined that shapes my outward pretense.” Turning his head to face her his mouth curved slightly, “I curse, Helga. Don’t worry. You need only ask about me or spend time with me to get better acquainted and I will give you the answer you want. The man you see in the uniform is merely one side of me.”
Tucking her knees into her chest, she sat up and leaned against her headboard. “There’s multiple sides to all of us,” she muttered. “I suppose I look forward to playing Twenty Questions with you sometime.” She stifled a grimace, feeling as if she were punishing herself for being so- awkward. Twenty Questions? Really?
He let out a chipper huff. “How about a walk around Court? There’s a trail I take often if-”
“Well, I’d- like to get settled first,” Helga breathed, brushing her hands up and down her crossed shins - hugging them tight. “It’s only my first night here.”
Heathcliff blinked at her. “Not tonight,” he acknowledged. “It’s too late for-”
“Oh! Oh,” Helga blurted in an interruption, coming to the sudden realization. Of course he didn’t mean tonight. Helga, could you embarrass yourself any more in two days time? “I knew that.”
Brushing a hand on the back of his neck, loose locks fell in front of his face as he let out a nervous laugh. “Is there anything else you need while I’m here?”
She thought for a few heartbeats of silence between them. There were a few questions she wanted to ask, but didn’t know how to form them properly yet. She managed to think of one thing as she inquired, “How safe is it to use magic here?”
Heathcliff looked around for a moment, as if someone was listening in on them - or someone else was in the room. Until he slid his head back to hers. “Safe enough to use it for comfort. We have had no witch trials or hunts here…”
“Why?”
Swallowing, Heathcliff paused - avoiding her gaze. “All I can tell you is that Idella holds a lot of power against His Majesty. But that is all the information I am able to render to you.”
Helga nodded. Relieved there were no hunts, nothing of the sorts. “And the safe house across the bridge of the castle…”
“You can use magic safely there, guaranteed,” Heathcliff confirmed softly.
Sighing in utter relief, she threw her head back. She could teach them. And Salazar, and Rowena, and Godric. All of them.
“My room is right next door if you need me. Goodnight. Helga,” Heathcliff said as he stood up and bowed his head to her. “I look forward to our, erm, game of Twenty Questions.” Leaving, it seemed as if he was shaking his head at himself and-
She thought she heard cursing under his breath.
Helga went for the door, taking a candle from her nightstand with her until she entered the shadowed, blinding archway - raising the candle in front of her to light the way, only she let out a yelp. Her heart was now hammering and stammering in her chest. “Salazar! Bloody hell.”
She found herself backing up as he approached her, closing the air between them - almost as if he was guiding her to some piece of furniture. So she set the candle aside on a round table and closed her eyes, feeling the motion. Backpedaling. Parting her lips until-
One hand slid around her waist and the other intertwined with her other hand. And they were swaying side to side. Dancing.
Opening her eyes, she found pure affliction swathe in his. But he only said as he twirled her and pulled her in, holding her close, “Nothing will change. I promise.”
She didn’t know what that meant, what all that broad statement entailed, but something shifted in him as they stopped swaying. And he wrapped his arms around her tightly, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “My best friend, now and forever,” was all she could say, brushing a thumb along the quicksilver streak of his hair.
“What about when you’re wed?” he asked, unable to lift the weight of his head.
She didn’t even know when she’d be wed. It was an out of the blue thought he brought up, but she caressed his cheek and looked into his reddened, tired eyes. Addressing the question. “Even when I am wed, you will still be my best friend,” Helga assured with a crack in her voice. “A promise is a promise.” Things would need to end with him physically. She still wasn’t sure what was going to happen with their scandal. But that didn’t mean she could still see him, still go back to what they were before…
Another knock played on the door before she heard two whispers just outside. She clutched to him tightly, unable to let go of him.
But he disapparated right from her arms. And she sank to the ground into her knees. Staring into the fire in front of her. Alone.
Until she heard another knock, this time with a third whisper. Salazar. She made her way over to the chaise lounge chair, staring at her untouched nosh on the table of what appeared to be pork roast with an abundance of vegetables and pushed it away. “Come in,” she announced.
Only Salazar, Godric, and Rowena apparated themselves in front of her. And she was purely startled again, holding a hand to her chest to control her heart rhythm and breathing.
“Great, you’re up,” Godric noted, eyes glancing at her uneaten dinner. “What were you up to?”
Helga glanced at Salazar before quickly shifting her gaze back to Godric’s. “Just… faffing around. Trying to decide if I want to eat or not,” she lied, brushing off the tension. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Helga, I remembered!” Rowena exclaimed, sitting down beside her. “Tonight, I wore the diadem as I slept to see if it would help with my recollection. And it worked. I woke Godric up because I had to share what I discovered.”
Helga’s lips twitched into a small smile as Salazar mirrored the expression for a moment, before both of them turned their attention back to Rowena.
“Rowan, Willow, Elder,” Helga murmured. She squared herself to Godric and Salazar. “Have you both had this dream?”
They nodded.
“More than once?” Helga asked. Another corroborating nod.
“Right. Bed,” Helga suggested, knowing her bed was large enough to fit four people easily. So everyone could sprawl and get comfortable.
Because this was about Rowena’s dream.
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“I’m in the woods and I’m standing in front of three trees. Only I don’t want to choose one of the trees because what if…what if one tree possesses something the other doesn’t?” Rowena questioned deeply.
This was true. Why choose one tree over the other, but when Helga’s reflection told her to choose…she could never decide herself and merely stared back at the reflection almost in a daze. “So what do you do?” she asked.
“I choose the reflection that’s talking to me and ordering me to choose. I choose the water because it reflects the three trees as well as myself so I am able to choose all at once. And when I reach into the puddle and make my decision, I’m taken through - almost like a gateway to another world. And I close my eyes when my body sinks into the water. What’s next is even more-“
“Bizzare?” Salazar asked, attempting to complete her sentence before he sank into the duvet, resting his chin on the back of his hand and lying on his stomach.
Rowena nodded.
Godric cleared his throat before assuring, “Look, Rowena, we’re made of Magic, let’s be honest nothing is bizzare with us.”
She scoffed, pulling a loose piece of fur off her night robe. “Trust me, I gathered that fact long ago.
I’m-,“ Closing her eyes, she shook her head. Ready to just state the facts and brushing off any thought of this as strange. “When I open my eyes to the other side, I’m still in the forest, the same spot. Directly over the puddle. Only- it’s a mirrored version of the world I was previously in. I have a bowl of dried porridge in my hand and all of a sudden I’m kneeling down. And I’m feeding a warty hog that appears at my feet. After the warty hog is done with its bowl, it talks to me and tells me to follow him - like that porridge had some sort of potion to make the animal that consumes it speak in our tongue.”
She knitted her eyebrows together. “It trots proudly next to me with its chin high. He gives me facts on magic, facts on astronomy, facts on the world as we wander for a while through the forest awhile, trekking through heather in the Highlands. He- talks to me like we’re old friends. And I talk to him as if I know him. Only our conversation comes to an end when I’m taken to a cliff. I look out to a loch with selkies jumping and leaping all about in the distance. There’s a waterfall roaring next to me spilling over the precipice. Dragons and phoenixes, winged horses - they all soar above me. Golden snidgets are pecking at my bare feet. A niffler crawls up on me and steals my diadem, necklace, and earrings before scurrying off. Wearing my bloody diadem! But I don’t care because it’s like I’m in a trance. I can’t move. I’m just purely- stunned that I’m here. That it’s all real…”
Rowena slid her stare across all three of them. Noting how they were fully engaged, as if they were attempting to solve a riddle. Then she said, “When we get to this cliff, all the hog asks me is if this is my destination.”
“So what’s your answer to the hog?” Helga asked.
Blinking, she shook her head. “It’s aberrant in the way I respond. I don’t question him. I don’t ask why I’m here…Without any sort of will power, I tell him yes, this is my destination almost immediately…and then he…” She pressed her lips together and scrunched her expression. Almost as if she was confused. Trying to discern logical from the illogical.
Helga was bewildered watching her friend. Rowena Ravenclaw. Pausing. As if she were stumped. Frustrated. Bemused by this disjointed universe she was describing.
“And then he?” Salazar pressed, intently staring at her for more.
“He-” Rowena blew out a breath, “says, ‘Welcome to Hogwarts’.” She looked at them with a solicitous mien, barely saying the last word. As if it were completely absurd.
Helga didn’t understand her. She thought she heard - Honkers? Hogwurst? “Sorry?” Helga asked, politely demanding clarification.
Salazar knitted his eyebrows together and began in a slow drawl, trying to decipher what she just said, “Welcome…to-”
“Hogwhat?” Godric asked, squinting at her.
“Hogwarts,” Rowena repeated louder this time, tucking a loose strand of raven hair behind her ear.
“Hogwarts?” Godric queried again.
“What does that even mean?” Salazar questioned with a fault finding, contorted face.
She shrugged. Hating the fact she was shrugging. Loathing the fact she couldn’t give an answer. “Listen, I don’t know.” Rowena threw her head back and groaned. Trying to find some sense, some answer. Only she said hastily, “In my dream, it’s as if I already know what that’s supposed to mean. In my dream, I apparently know what ‘Hogwarts’ is because I thank the hog and he leaves.”
"Then what?" Helga pressed, trying to make sense of it all. A warty hog leading her through the trees, a dense forest opening to a cliff that overlooked a vast loch. Magical creatures roamed freely… It all felt familiar yet fragmented.
She had vague glimpses of reaching the other side, but like Rowena, her memories always slipped into darkness. Either she blacked out entirely or fear took hold, forcing her to run as something—some presence—tried to invade her mind. The images were never clear. Just flashes of riding a magical creature, of tending to one with careful hands.
She never saw a hog, only a loch.
Rowena slumped her head into the palm of her hand and shrugged. “Then- nothing. I woke up and the dream was gone.” She grunted loudly. “Next time, I’m bloody lucid dreaming so I can find out more and control my own actions.”
There was a rather strained silence between the four. Well, Rowena found it to be straining.
Huffing loudly, she shook her head. As if she were going mad. She was right about the spirits of Crombie Castle, she knew she wasn’t mad because she saw them. But these dreams? Garbled.
Nonsensical. Preposterous. “Say it. I’m delirious,” she quavered.
“Okay. You’re delirious,” Salazar blurted flatly.
Rowena accepted his statement with open arms. “Great. Thank y-”
“Hold on,” Helga said, sitting upright. “Salazar, let’s not jump to conclusions. Dreams always try to tell us something, don’t they?”
Godric leaned on his elbow. “I’m with Helga on this one. I mean- what if Hogwarts is merely a settlement we don’t know about or- some sort of empire?”
Salazar scoffed, “I’d think we know if 'Hogwarts' was an empire.”
“Whatever it is, we will find out what,” Rowena confirmed, now massaging her temples.
Trapped world. Helga thought for a moment. Because whatever Rowena had seen in her dream could’ve very well been in a trapped world.
Perhaps in a world that was hidden in plain sight.