Autumn

Many years ago, four friends had an idea. A dream to better the world. I was fortunate enough, yet unfortunate enough to be one of those four. It seems like so long ago that I was a young woman, full of energy and drive... All I wanted to do was to help, to spread happiness throughout the world. I had my chance, and I took it...

To start a school a school of magic was Rowena’s idea. She always was the cleverest of us, so it was no surprise to me at least when she suggested “A hall of learning, a place where magic can be taught openly, a place of advancement of knowledge.” At first it was only going to be the two of us, but Rowena insisted on bringing Godric into the plan, so I told Salazar so he would not feel left out. Still, for a long time, almost seven moons, the boys thought we were joking and made nonsense of it all. That is why I did not want to tell them in the first place. I knew they would not take us seriously, but Rowena could be as obstinate as anything when she knew what she wanted.

Godric bought the grounds and the castle where we were to begin our school. Once he realized that the plan was in earnest, he somehow managed to purchase a large, beautiful area of land, with a forest and a lake, and a small castle between the two. To this day I am yet in the dark as to how he managed to secure that land. His parents never took much interest in him.

Salazar, ever cunning, ever smart, came up with a way to set up our school. He suggested that we have four Houses, each named after one of us, which would be characterized in turn by qualities we valued most which the House members possessed. It took Rowena long to catch on to this. She would have one united house, even after I pointed out that it would be much harder to manage than four Houses. Even now, so many years later, I can recall fondly her indignation at being overruled…

“There shall be too much competition between these... These... Houses!” she would protest.

He would reply, “Fair bird, you suppose that to be a bad thing?” Then Godric would accuse Salazar of being an impolite cad, and I would be left to resolve the argument. Perhaps I do not recall the early days so fondly after all.

Time passed slowly, and gradually our plans progressed. Godric wished for his House to be that of the brave, while Rowena favored the intellectual and Salazar the cunning and ambitious. I had not yet decided on the traits I wished for in my House. I only wanted for everyone to have a place. And so they did.

But I am old now. Long gone are those gleeful days of adolescence, those naïve fantasies I had as a young woman. The others have long since passed away; Godric in war, Rowena of sorrow, and of Salazar I have not heard since he left us many years ago. Alone, I have naught to do but sit and contemplate the past.

When I look outside, I can see the golden leaves of autumn drift down and rest on wind-worn grass. Those leaves, those trees, they remind me of myself. I am wilting. I have spent my life working towards ideals, and now that my goals have been achieved, I am wasting. Whittling away the last of my days far out in the lonely countryside.

Many leagues away is my school. No, not my school, our school, even if I am the only one left to appreciate it. I can only hope that it still stands strong. After Rowena's death I wanted nothing more to do with it.

Rowena. I loved her as a sister, as a friend, as a mother, and though she did not know, something much more than all of those. By the ancient oak near the creek is her grave. I myself buried her. It was horrible the way she died. She simply gave up on living. But, so did all of us after Salazar left. I still do not understand why.

His last day with us was beatiful. Not that we were out of doors to see it, though. In the Great Hall of our castle, he and Godric were arguing like the hardheaded men they were, when at last he called "Enough! I can not take this, you, any longer! You will contaminate our school with your aimless acceptance of the impure!"

And that was the last I ever heard from him. That evening he left the castle. I watched him fly on his broomstick into the sunset and disappear in the horizon. No apologies, no regrets, no goodbyes.

Godric was devastated. Even he never thought that it would come to that. And so he threw himself into his battles, dashing like a madman out into the most dangerous of frays. He did not believe that he could die. He would tell me, late at night, "I never could get what I wanted..." But he did. The image of him, staggering back from a goblin rebellion, bloodied and limping, haunts me to this day. He was the first I failed to cure.

After we buried him, Rowena would not eat, nor speak, nor sleep. She would only sit in her wicker chair and stare at his grave. She loved him, but she never wrought the courage to tell him. Her own cowardice, her sorrow, ate at her heart until she wasted away to nothing, less than nothing. At last she let go of the world. She was the second I could not cure. I am the last.

Now I have nothing to fear, nothing to want, nothing at all. Only my memories. I live alone in my small hut, and wait for the earth to reclaim me. I am waiting for my last leaf to fall.