I, Ravenclaw

Chapter 1

My brother's wife.

I did not like her at first, this fair-haired, smooth-skinned sister of mine. The day she came to live with us, bringing her husband and her entire household in tow, I was thirteen. I remember Grata trying to pull a comb through my unruly, dark red hair. I whined and writhed under the tug of its fearsome teeth, eventually snatching it away from my maid to do it myself. I was not a child anymore, I reasoned. I began tearing away at my tangles as Grata's slits of eyes narrowed.

"You're not to get feisty with me, Mistress." I turned my back to her and continued to rip strands of hair into submission. I stared at the window and saw in the distance a shadow of a great caravan emerging from the mountains that shut out our Valley. The mass moved slowly like a giant, fearsome beast and Grata snatched the comb back out of my hand. I let her, entranced by looming crowd.

"Grata," I asked. "Who is that coming down out from the hills?"

"Eh?"

"I am asking who enters the valley of my father's house." I was impatient with my maid's lack of hearing.

Grata's wrinkled; narrow face peered out the window. She smacked her thin lips. "Hasn't your father told you?"

"No."

"Well," She said haughtily. "If he didn't want to tell you I don't suppose I should."

"Well," I said in the same tone "Father has been in London with the king since last week, and won't be back for another fortnight. And mother is in no condition to answer questions." Again.

"Your mother--" Grata began. I held up my hand to silence her.

"Yes, yes. The Lady Ravenclaw is stronger than I will ever know," I recited impatiently. "She survived the births of me and my brother although she wasn't strong enough to handle us both. And she gave birth to me, the skinny, freakish girl who should have been the boy, with the purple eyes, pale skin and a temper. Yes, Grata, I know."

There was a silence.

"It's your sister-in-law," Grata conceded. "The Lady Hufflepuff."

"My brother's wife?"

"The wars in the north have driven the here."

"Why is he there too?" I didn't like my brother. He was a tall, pasty man whose left hand had a habit of clenching and unclenching itself constantly, and he hopped on his toes and bounced in his chair during supper.

Grata wove my hair into a plait and jammed pins into it. Its dark weight sat upon the back of my neck.

"Is my mother well enough to take visitors?"

"If she is, she will tell me."

I stood up and stepped into my brown gown. "We won't have another fiasco, will we?" Last winter a supper with one Duke or Earl or another had brought crisis. My mother had had to been dragged out of the room screaming and cursing the name of an imaginary sprite that would not cease following her. "What time can we expect her?"

"Nightfall, Mistress."

I blew air out through my cheeks. "So I supposed that means feasting tonight?"

"Yes, Mistress."

I sat on my stool for a second, and I could hear Grata's raspy breathing behind me.

"Madam before your mother took ill again, she asked me to make certain that you continue your needlepoint..."

"Oh bother needlepoint," I said impatiently.

"Now, Mistress --"

"Go away," I snapped, snatching up my embroidery. I had been working on pillows for my father when he returned from the hunt. It seemed he was never home. Grata grumbled something about evil, ill-mannered children and made as much noise as possible storming from the room.

I picked up an almond from the silver tray near my window sill and threw it down into the fourth-level garden. I watched it become a speck as it fell to the ground and I saw a small bird fly toward it, and hop away. The whole family slept in the north tower, but that didn't mean I liked it. It was the highest of the towers that gave my family the reigning view of our great estate in the valley that stretched out as far as I could see.

There were the four wings, each with its own towel in the north, south, east and west of the great city that my father ruled over. We were in the North, the South tower was for dignitaries and wealthy townspeople, and the East was for visiting relatives and was usually empty. I looked out my window onto the East Wing and watched the distant buzz of activity. Something was being lifted on a pulley into the high tower window while a number of townspeople had gathered to watch. I could see specks that were workers running through one of the gardens with an armful of linens.

Each of the wings had levels of gardens. There was the lower level or the public gardens that were fairly well taken care of and in the summer the lovers and children of the peasants and townspeople would come and sit in the sunshine in their spare moments. All of the wings had different gardens. The North's gardens were full of flowers, the East's was full of fruit and the West's was full of herbs that a clever housewife could snip and put in her bag when a guard wasn't watching. I did not know about the fourth tower... I am not sure that it had a garden at all. My eyes flicked to the West wing and I suppressed a shudder.

I had never been to the West Wing, it was for criminals and murderers, where they were tortured and left to starve and die. Executions were held on the mid-level garden and throngs gathered below and onto the level to watch. The roof was black and the stone was a dull gray that gave you the illusion that it was always in shadow. Children were told stories of the fearful West Wing, including myself. I heard that it was haunted and the poor would hover around the entrance to catch the many rats to eat. I had never seen a jail keeper but I had heard that they were tall and pale with hairy chests and backs, burly with the muscle of torturing. I heard they said nothing for they had done so many horrible things that they could not speak, only scream.

I rested my elbows on the cold windowsill and watched the fast-approaching procession coming from the north. A small group of riders were moving hard and fast down the pass, although I could make out nothing more that they were swift. They looked dark and tiny from so far away, but I knew they would be here soon enough. I looked down onto the thousands upon thousands of rooftops and into the minute streets and alleys filled with people of all shapes and sizes and I sighed.

I loved Ravensglen, in all her stately glory. She was my home, my life and my heritage. I loved her from her knotted, winding forests and the craggy cliffs that led to her sea. I felt a pang of frustrated anger at the thought of this beautiful place going to my brother, the stuttering, blundering man who cared not for it. I did not know why I could not rule. I was the more loved and clever of the two of us, although I knew my brother was Father's favorite. But could I not simply marry and stay here? My brother did everything he could to get away, even fighting wars against the Saxons in the south. But here there was nothing but peace. No one would bother us in this fertile swampland I called my home.

And I saw that procession coming from the mountains and I knew my brother was not the one riding fast toward it.

***

Dressed in a deep green gown that Grata said brought out my hair and kept attention away form my curious, bruise colored eyes, I sat in the entrance hall, awaiting these guests. My dress was tight around the bosom and I thought with a thrill that I was becoming a woman. My new shoes pinched my toes but I cared not. I was seated to the left of Pincer, my father's steward. When my father was away, he ruled.

I did not like Pincer at all, and he knew so. He was a gaunt, sickly looking man with limp, mousey-brown hair and a gapped smile that did not reach to his eyes. When father was away he acted as though Ravensglen had been his all along, and he took the liberties of a king. He ate in my father's place at the table and ate his food, drank his wine and pinched the backsides of my father's maids and his two concubines, Helen and Genevieve. They disliked him as much as I did. The two of them were agreeable enough, but their love of gossip could not keep me interested for long. Certainly I wished to hear the scandal but the fact that Martia Hawdling passed her robes onto her daughter, trying to pass them off as new, was not something I cared about.

And so I sat, my tailbone becoming numb as the cheap straw pillow that I was given to sit upon, because I was a girl and not important enough to wear a down pillow, my formal silver circlet binding my hair. A flee bite was itching like mad on my right wrist and I scratched it furiously until I felt it become damp with blood. I then suckled the wound, my eyes still on the door. Pincer sat on my right in the largest most regal looking chair that the servants could find, because my father had taken his throne with him to the Highlands to crush a rebellion in the mountains. And so Pincer sat in a chair of old, noble oak, grumbling that my father should not have taken the silver with him. He gnawed noisily at the cuticle of his thumb and glared at me through pale blue eyes whose whites were tinged yellow.

I sat on my stool with my hands folded in my lab, still scratching at my wrist still, and the head members of the household, including Grata and the head of maids and the cook. A few house elves knelt at my feet and blinked their great big eyes at the door, twittering among them. My tutor, Abraham, was sitting a respectful distance behind me, no doubt with a book of some sort concealed in his robes.

And so we waited

My hair was damp against the back of my neck by the time I heard hooves on the cobblestones outside. Three house elves rushed to the door handle and wrenched it open in one simultaneous movement. For a moment the dark hall was dazzled by sudden sunlight and three shadowy figures emerged from the golden haze. I squinted and the doors shut again. For a second, there was nothing but darkness, until my eyes became adjusted. The three figures were a woman, and two men. The woman remained kneeling as the two gentlemen stood up and peered at Pincer whose mouth had curled into a snarling smile.

"Welcome," he said, gesturing around him. "To Ravensglen."

The men bowed again. Their dress was foreign, with tighter fabrics then I was accustomed to, and their legs were covered only to the knee. After that their calves were hidden beneath tight cloth of some kind. Their shoes were thick and beaten, and they wore about their necks they wore great chains of gold. The man on the right had a dark blonde hair, cut in a style that reminded me of an overturned bowl and his face was consumed in dark stubble. The man on the left of the kneeling woman had hair over his ears that were a pale red color and cloudy grey eyes peeked out beneath sloping brows. I bit back a snarl at my older brother and I knew that the hand behind his back was clenching and unclenching. His lips were thick and blubbery.

"Good eve to you, Steward Pincer." His voice had picked up no life from two years in another country. It was still droll and monotonous. Pincer licked his lips and inclined his head with such a deft jerk that I knew he had been practicing. I noticed with annoyance that the woman was still bowed. "And good eve to you, Lady Rowena. I declare you are growing into a woman." I glared at him.

"As I should be, Robert." I could see the woman's knee beginning to shake from strain. "Please, my brother, your lady may rise from the floor if she is still capable of doing so." There was a scuffling noise. The man with the unattractive haircut hurried to help the lady up. I remember the first time I looked upon her as she rose to her in a stately red gown high cut about the neck with a traveling cloak trimmed with fox fur. Her cheeks, hands and indeed any other revealed part of her body were a fine, lily white with a faint hint of blush in her cheeks. Here eyes were blue, accentuated by eyebrows a shade darker than her hair, sculpted into a beautiful curve and her eyelashes were long. Her lips were cherries, and her hair was a beautiful blonde color and fell in soft curls through its pins. She smiled with straight, white teeth and her nails were faultless and clean.

She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

She bowed to Pincer and inclined her head at me and I swallowed air all in a rush. I had heard tales of the kindness and charm of the lady Hufflepuff in my brother's occasional messages but had no idea that the rumors of her beauty were so accurate.

"A good eve to thee, Pincer and Lady Sister Rowena. I bring salutations and gifts from my father, the King Hufflepuff, ruler of the Valley Country."

"I thought there were many rulers of the Valley Country," I heard someone whisper. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from giggling.

The doors groaned open and a pair of servants came in bearing two chests. One was significantly smaller than the other. The Lady Hufflepuff pointed to the larger chest.

"For his Lordship; it is filled with herbs and spices from across the seas for his kitchens and dragon's bones from the east." I bit my tongue. My tutor Abraham had told me that dragon's teeth were some of the most magical things in our world. I myself knew a few basic spells and was not yet of the age of formal learning, but I shivered with anticipation of the magical properties of those bones. I could see Pincer too, gazing at the box that contained bones that were rarer than rubies and more valuable than diamonds. I knew by that look he was calculating whether he could walk away with one of those fine bones under his arms.

The Lady Hufflepuff gestured to the smaller chest, a miniature version of the one for her father. "And this is for the lady Rowena." I felt my eyebrows raise in surprise as the chest was brought before me. The servant's fingernails were dirty as he opened the clasp for me and I felt my eyebrows rise even higher. There was a wide, thick book, a small purse and another box. I set the box and purse on my lap and lifted the books out with trembling hands.

"My God," I heard Abraham breathe as I read the title. 'The Contained Works of Merlin the Bard'. I had heard of this book. Abraham had told me that the secrets of the earth were contained in this, the book written in Merlin's own hand, the one wizard who had ever managed the unthinkable three times. I could hear Abraham's voice in my head, reciting it to me.

"He stopped time for three days, raised the dead to life and preformed the Divine art." The Divine art was making something from nothing. And I held the keys of his words in my hands. The Lady Hufflepuff was sitting there, drinking in my astonishment.

"It is a beautiful book... thank you." I choked finally. She nodded. With great regret I gave the book to a house elf to put in my vault, and I opened the box. Within was an amulet on a long, silver chain. It was a strange shade of green, although it could easily have been blue, and within it the light reflected many different colors. I looked up at the Lady Hufflepuff, bewildered. "What is it?"

"It is an opal," She said kindly and quietly. I was not sure whether anyone else could hear. "She is the queen of gems. It contains water, correlating with human emotions. It clarifies by amplifying and mirroring feelings, buried emotions, desires like love and passion. It will help your sight and imagination, dreams, and when you learn healing it will assist you. It will absorb and store emotions and thoughts that you wish to hide." I stared at her blankly for a moment.

"There were many times," she continued in a soft voice. "When I was your age and wished to hide myself. She made a little gesture with her eyes that took in the whole room. "You need not be afraid of them." I stared at her blankly and felt a blank anger I the back of my mind. Did she think me a child?

I put the opal obediently around my neck, intending to take if off immediately when I retired to my chamber. The little purse contained a small fortune for me to spend as I liked. I was appreciative enough, but found something in Hufflepuff's gentle, friendly nature and I wasn't sure what it was. Behind the smiles and gracious thanks there was something tickling at the back of my brain that made me feel uncomfortable. I ignored it and rose.

"We have a dinner prepared for you, my lord Brother, and my lady sister." The lady Hufflepuff reached out and touched my hand. I was not over-fond of physical contact by strangers and I shifted a little uncomfortably beneath her hands. I noticed with a touch of disappointment how un-ladylike and brown my own flesh was in comparison to her pearly gentleness.

"My name is Helga," she said in that gentle voice.

"Rowena," I said shortly and broke free of her soft fingertips, leading the way into the dining room.

The house elves served their usual meal of hearty soups and bread, juicy meats and sweet fruits preserved in the ice house. Helga Hufflepuff made a great show of praising the wine and the juiciness of the meats but I smiled inwardly at her hard-worked falseness at the mediocre meal. When my father got home, then she would see the power of the army of thirty three house elves that lived below our floors. I took a sip of my wine and stood up to leave the table. Pushing the doors out before me I heard a voice calling my name. My 'sister' arrived behind me.

"Could you show me to my room?" She asked quietly, but her eyes pleaded. I made no secret of my puzzled expression but glanced at my brother and Pincer who stared at us. I nodded to her.

"This way."

I took a torch off the wall and led her through various stone corridors and up and down staircase. I did not slow down as she tried to look at various portraits, tapestries and murals upon the walls. I continued this brutal pace until we arrived outside her door.

"You will sleep here," I said briskly. "You have a good view of the east and west wings and the city below. I noticed her cloak that one of house elves removed in our earlier encounter. I moved to take it from her bed and she moved to her window to gaze over the thousands of rooftops below, pearly in the moonlight.

"Could you help me?" She asked quietly, indicating the silver hooks on the back of her gown. "I am so tired I will not be able to do them myself this evening." With a touch of annoyance at being treated like a servant I did as I was bid and loosened it over her milky white shoulders. She turned to thank me and I saw silver streams of tears about her face. I sighed at the exasperating open show of feelings about my brother's wife. It was beginning to irritate me.

I pounded a pillow into fluffiness with one hand. "Homesick?"

"No," she said thickly.

I rolled my eyes at her back. "Alright then, goodnight."

She turned little to one side to give me a watery smile and bid me goodnight and turned to such an angle that I noticed, clad only in her shift, something was strange about her personage. My eyes did a quick double-take and I took in with a shock that there was a bulge in the Lady Hufflepuff's belly, showing only to the keenest of eyes that she was in the motherly state. I felt my face burning as I hurried out of the room.

***

I did not go to bed that night but instead sat on my window sill with my legs dangling over the edge and into space. I had no fear of falling, which would have surely been my death, or of the cold night because my mind was too focused on fitting this all together.

My entire body was tense with thought. Could it perhaps have been a trick of the light? A shadow that made me see what was not there? But I knew if my brother had an heir that cut off all ties I had with the Ravensglen throne. I would be sent away and married off to some prince in a foreign land to raise children and be cut off from all learning and my beautiful home. I shivered, but I was not cold.

I looked down at the sleeping city below and for a brief moment I wondered what would happen if I just pushed myself off the windowsill and into the night. It must be wonderful, I knew, to fall so freely with the wind running through your hair and you'd never feel the impact...

Immediately I brought myself together again. There had to be some way out of this. My mind raced. We had received knowledge that the marriage had been finalized two weeks ago... and it would take a messenger about a month to get to the Lowlands where Ravensglen was situated. That would mean Helga Hufflepuff would be about two months along...

My knuckles that gripped the sill were white with strain.

A woman did not show so much, no matter how well it was hidden, until the fourth month perhaps? Had she and my brother... no they had not met until two days before their wedding, as was tradition... Then how--

The realization was swift and sure and I knew beyond a doubt that I had guessed correctly.

Sweet, pale Lady Helga Hufflepuff was carrying another man's child in her belly.

And I was certain I was the only one who knew.