Foundation

Chapter Seven

Not a single cell in Rowena's body did not go cold when she heard the scream. She pushed away from the door, alert in an instant. Her blood managed to work its way sluggishly through her veins despite the rapid pumping of her heart.

The only thing she heard for several minutes was the echo of that scream. She was up on her feet in a matter of seconds and running just as fast as she could in the direction she had heard it from. She passed students as she ran, all of them frantic and cowering in front of her.

The marble walls flew past her, streaks of glittering stone. Salazar had something to do with this, there was no doubt in her mind. Rowena only hoped that he had not been the cause of the scream itself...that, above all things, would be unbearable. She abandoned the thought, not wanting to follow it further. Salazar was not a bad person...he would not do bad things.

She hoped.

It was not difficult to find the source of the scream. A student lay on the marble floor, his limbs twisted in such a way that he looked to be fighting something away from in front of him. His fingers were curled into claws.

Rowena swooped down and pressed her wand to his neck, trying not to think of the poor child's name. The second she remembered it her task would become much more difficult. There was just a slight pulse: still alive. But his body would not move from its twisted position; nor would his eyes, wide in horror, close. Already a crowd of muttering onlookers was gathering, awe and shock on all their faces.

Godric and Helga pushed their way through the crowd; Salazar was not with them. Rowena immediately cast the thought from her mind - he was simply far away and taking his time getting to the scene...

The three of them lifted the boy and walked swiftly in the direction of the Hospital Wing. The children in their way created a tunnel through their midst.

"Back to bed!" Helga barked at them, and with a start the children began scrambling off toward their respective dormitories.

It was difficult to see in the dark hallways, though there were many candles to light the way. The shadows they cast flickered dimly over the warped features of the boy. Rowena swallowed fear and kept her gaze ahead of them, simply ignoring the boy save for the arms she used to support his limp weight.

"Do either of you know what happened? I arrived just a moment before you," Rowena said, shifting their direction around a particularly tight corner; she had to angle herself sideways in order to fit between the wall and the boy.

She could see Godric shaking his head out of the corner of her eye. His face was dark in the shadows, but there was also a new burden upon it. Unlike her, his eyes did not leave the young boy. His brow was furrowed, his usually immaculate clothes wrinkled slightly, barely noticeable in the gold cloth.

In contrast, Helga was still in perfect condition, her blonde curls pinned back in separate sections so that they framed her round face just perfectly. The dim light was to her advantage; it gave her skin a smooth texture and cast shadows over her round features, softening them even more.

Rowena did not want to know how the shadows looked on the boy's face.

When Salazar burst out of the entrance to a nearby corridor Rowena almost had a heart attack. He held something glassy and wired in his outstretched hands, and he was gasping as if having just run a marathon. His black hair was unusually out of place; she couldn't help but notice that his eyes were wild with something. Excitement? Terror? The fact that she couldn't tell sickened her.

"Salazar! Good God, I'm glad you're here," Godric exclaimed, not at all bothered by the look in his friend's eyes. Or perhaps he couldn't see it.

Salazar smiled grimly at him and put the glasses - for Rowena now recognized what he held in his hands - back on the boys face. Immediately he was recognizable. She had been fighting back trying to place his face, but now it was no use. Oliver.

All at once the nausea spilled over and Rowena had to duck to one side and retch, where upon Salazar promptly took her place holding the boy. He looked at her, worry on every line of his face. "Are you alright? What can I do?"

"Just get the boy to the hospital wing," she gasped, and leaned over to retch again. This was not like her at all. She hated this sudden weakness, fought against it, but it only caused more retching. She pressed herself against the wall, refusing to sit on the floor, and took deep, gulping breaths. The blue cloth of her dress swam dizzily; she shut her eyes tight and listened instead to the steadily diminishing sound of Godric, Helga, and Salazar's footsteps, which echoed slightly in the long corridor.

Her weakness in this moment was despicable. Rowena had never before felt faint or even the slightest bit dizzy; she prided herself in both strength of body and nature. But now, as she leaned against the cold wall, she could not help but realize that she had changed quite a lot during the years it had taken them to build and begin their school.

There was her relationship with Salazar. In every single one of her past endeavors she had never allowed herself to rely upon whomever she was with at the time. Rowena had always, always taken care of herself first and everything else next. She was independent, and could stand on her own.

Now, she found herself obsessed with Salazar's constant whereabouts. The change had come gradually; she had only just noticed, sitting on the floor, feeling relieved that Salazar was there, helping.

Rowena did not particularly like this feeling. She did not want to rely on Salazar as she had relied on herself before; he would not be her steady presence. She would not allow it.

And there was something about him that bothered her. Bothered her quite a lot. Why had it taken him so long to come? Where had he been when she had searched the whole school for him?

* * *

He had planned to kill. This, this was a fluke in that plan.

That, and Salazar was furious at himself for regretting what he had done. The moment he had seen Rowena the damning thought had entered his mind: he shouldn't have done it. What if it had gotten her? After all, Rowena herself was not a pureblood witch.

No matter. The beast was back in its chamber, and Rowena was not hurt. Salazar had nothing to worry about.

Keeping outward appearances cool and composed, Salazar informed the short woman in the sterile white hospital wing what had happened: an unknown attack; no one was sure quite what had done it. She bustled around to the boy and peered down into his pointed face, then stood briskly and said, "Petrified. I'll contact Susan immediately."

Godric and Helga still looked horribly worried. Helga fidgeted nervously with her clothes and seemed to be biting her bottom lip. Godric stood stoically at her side, watching Salazar intently.

"Rowena," Salazar said, and swept out of the room down the corridor, green tunic almost black in the dim light. There were several students about; they were sent off to bed harshly.

Salazar's emotions were calming. He could tell the beast not to attack Rowena, and it would cease to be a problem for him. It would be quite easy to set it on students alone; those unworthy of studying magic with the likes of him. A sneer came to his face as he walked; his moment of weakness had passed.

It would not be long before another student found themselves on the receiving end of a pair of huge, luminous yellow eyes.

* * *

To Rowena, it seemed that Salazar was almost smiling as he walked towards her. But no, that couldn't be, for when he put a hand on her shoulder there was nothing but concern on his face. His thin features were stretched with worry. She rested her head on his shoulder. "Do you know what happened to him?"

Salazar put a hand on her hair and shook his head. "No, but she says that he is only petrified. Not dead."

Rowena heaved a great sigh. The cloth of his shirt was soft, and instead of thinking about all the things that had just gone wrong, she concentrated on the dark green fabric before her eyes. It was a sharp contrast to her own brown and blue clothing.

"We may have to close the school," she said, and sat back, smoothing her dark hair.

Salazar's eyes glittered. "Yes."

She sighed and looked away from his face, concentrating on a darkly woven tapestry that hung near her. This was not at all expected. The school had been built by none but the four of them--how could something have gotten in? Only one explanation sufficed, and that was that it had somehow come through the main doors, straight from the forest. Rowena frowned, thinking.

Only a host of creatures could petrify, and not one of them was likely.

It had to be a wizard. Nothing else made sense. But who would do such a cruel thing? Rowena stood straighter, so deep in thought she forgot that Salazar stood before her, watching her with gleaming eyes. She walked briskly past him, towards the library.

"Where are you going?" Salazar asked, his voice echoing in the dark hall.

She turned her head just barely over her shoulder, her pace never slowing. "Research." He stood staring at her as she continued to move away from him, quickly. For a moment he was still, and then all of a sudden he stepped forward, heels clicking.

"Wait," he called, and Rowena stopped, skirts rustling with a sound to rival his shoes on the marble floor. She waited patiently, assuming he meant to join her in the library. He came swiftly to her side and put a possessive hand on her arm. "Why don't we go together?"

Rowena smiled slightly, and nodded. "Of course."

Salazar took her elbow and steered her towards the library, and when she glanced over his eyes were cold and steely, his mouth set in a hard line. "We'll work it out," she said, squeezing his hand. His mouth softened, and she could barely hear his whisper. "Indeed, we will."

* * *

Godric watched his friend sweep briskly out of the room and couldn't fight the feeling of unease that flittered through his gut.

Surely, he thought, surely Salazar wouldn't attack students. He glanced at Helga, and found that she, too, was staring out the door with a slight frown on her features. It seemed that he was not the only one to notice. She titled her round face up towards him, blue eyes searching.

"We must find Rowena," she said, and there was a moment when they simply stood, staring at each other.

Godric knew Salazar Slytherin better than any of them, even Rowena, despite her close relationship with him. But even so, he valued her opinion. She was by far the best at keeping a level head in even the most emotional of situations. In fact, her spell of sickness in the hallway had worried him quite a bit. It was most unlike Rowena.

He nodded once at Helga, and the two parted ways at the door, Helga headed for Rowena's chambers and Godric to the library. She could almost always be found in one of the two places.

As he passed down one of the darker hallways the thought occurred to him that he was very much alone and vulnerable. Whatever had attacked that poor child could just as easily sneak up on him. But he shook the thought; it was the dark, shifting shadows and constant drafts that spooked him, nothing more. Nothing would dare to attack a full grown wizard, and especially not Godric Gryffindor.

But even so, he found himself walking just a little faster. The heels of his boots clicked with each step as he moved swiftly towards the library.

* * *

Despite the fact that Salazar was there with her, pouring through book upon book that had anything to do with petrifying beasts, there was still something about the entire situation that unsettled Rowena most profoundly. For the first time in her life she had difficulty concentrating on the book that was before her. The musky scent of the library didn't soothe her as it usually did; she found it instead stifling and oppressive.

And for the first time Salazar's closeness bothered her more than anything else. His thigh was pressed lightly against hers; she constantly fought the urge to wriggle away from his touch.

What was wrong with her? Instead of reading she found herself staring at the slight pattern in the blue of her dress, thinking not about petrification but about Salazar. Something wasn't right.

Not at all.

Which was confirmed when Godric strode in and asked to speak with her--without Salazar. He'd never done that before.

She went with him, casting what she hoped was a reassuring glance back at Salazar, who smiled at her and looked as though he suspected nothing. Of course, it was never easy to tell with Salazar, so probably he suspected quite a bit.

But there was a lot of suspecting going on anyway. Godric pulled her out into the hallway and herded her towards Helga's living quarters; this in itself meant he didn't want them interrupted. Salazar and Helga got along well enough, but neither had the inclination to seek the other out unless absolutely necessary. There would be little chance of being disturbed.

If they were, in fact, worried about being disturbed by Salazar.

Which Rowena was still steadfastly trying to banish from her thoughts. Of course they were simply meeting to discuss the boy. Without Salazar.

She took a deep breath and steeled her mind. If it was Salazar who'd done this--which, logically, there was no evidence to point to him in the first place, merely suspicion and knowledge of character--Rowena knew she would need to be prepared to deal with it accordingly.

Helga sat pristinely on her bed, glowing amidst the black and yellow décor of the room. Her blonde curls were still in perfect condition, her dress crease-free, but there was an air of uncertainty about her when Rowena walked in.

Rowena sank wearily to the bed, enveloped almost immediately by the rich scent of whatever perfume Helga used. "I won't tell him."

The atmosphere relaxed considerably, something that saddened her. They were here on nothing but vague suspicion and thought, and already blaming him for the attack. The child wasn't dead - only petrified - and thus could they not put it down to unruly students? Of course she'd never heard of students being so unruly as to petrify before, but when dealing with children there were a vast number of things that were bound to happen eventually. Children would be children, after all.

Godric took a seat in a plush armchair in one corner and cleared his throat.

"As much as I hate to say it, I don't think this is just the work of a student."

There was a pregnant pause. Rowena tried to concentrate on what he was saying and not the sinking feeling in her chest. What bothered her the most, perhaps, was that she would not put it past Salazar to attack Muggle-borns. As much as she hated to say it, that much she knew for certain.

"There's no evidence to immediately point towards...him." Rowena kept her gaze steady on the far wall, concentrating on keeping her breathing from reaching the panic point.

Helga sighed, patting Rowena's hand. "No, there isn't. Perhaps we simply are just jumping to conclusions too quickly."

Rowena met her eyes and fought back a sigh of relief. Her friend's bright blue eyes were concerned, but her face was lit in a tentative smile.

"We shall wait it out. If there is another attack - then we'll start worrying," Godric said, smiling at Rowena as well. Yet she couldn't help but notice that he fidgeted nervously with a worn edge on his golden coat. Nor could she miss the slight edge that marred Helga's beautiful smile, a tenseness usually absent from her carefree friend.

Rowena stood and looked around the room once, taking in the brilliant yellow bed-cover and checkered throw rug, decorated with Helga's favorite colors, and swept suddenly towards the door.

"I have a class. Excuse me." She smiled vaguely in their direction and let herself out, never pausing to think about what she did. She closed the heavy wooden door behind her and took off at a brisk walk.

Busy. She must keep busy, or all the thoughts swirling in her head would press in on her and crush any traces of sanity she had left.

Of course, it didn't help that it was quite clear Helga and Godric were not telling her all that they knew. Perhaps they had intended to when they'd brought her there, and decided against it at the last moment.

There was only one way to find out.

Rowena veered away from the direction of her next class, which she would miss for the first time since the opening of the school, and headed instead towards Godric's office, passing bewildered students along the way. The lanterns seemed to spread little light; she tripped over a jutting stone at one point and barely stopped, intent on reaching the offices before Godric left Helga.

A point came when all students had scampered off, and there was no sound save the echoing of her determined footsteps. Cool drafts calmed her unease, bringing the scent of mildew, oddly pleasant. When she rounded a corner and reached the door to Godric's office she was confident and strong.

The door opened easily. Rowena closed it behind her and flicked her wand, lighting the lamp on his sturdy, darkly stained desk. For a moment, she thought that he'd moved it, but then spotted that familiar silvery light, swirling steadily from a far corner of the office, blocked partially by a wooden screen. She took a deep breath, picked up her heavy blue skirts, and stepped across the small room, carefully setting the screen aside.

The Pensieve glittered up at her, twinkling and merry. She inhaled deeply, suddenly nervous, then chastised herself for such worries.

All was still and quiet. A tapestry bearing a roaring lion, enveloped in scarlet and gold, reared down at her, threatening only at first glance. One shadow, reflected from the displaced screen, flickered in such a way that the knob on the door appeared to be slowly unlatching. She glanced sharply again and breathed when the realization that it was simply a shadow set in.

"Enough," she said aloud, firmly. Rowena leaned over the bowl, her straight brown hair brushing down her face, a feathery touch, and gazed into the bowl. For a moment she hovered, watching the silver of it part before her, and then a strand of hair broke the surface. She found herself sucked in, and watched calmly, waiting for the world to settle once again.