Shades of Grey

Chapter One: Soot

By Gemini

The Eagle

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.

- Alfred, Lord Tennyson

~ * ~

Summer 952 A.D.

The sudden yellow glow of sunlight pierced the dark sky, making its way over the lush green glen. On that night, the first birth of four had occurred, the births of witches and wizards who would be remembered forever. And the birth had ended in misfortune.

All the known spells were not strong enough to save the mother, let alone the frantic whispers and prayers of the midwife and father. She was only twenty years of age - a strange age to bear a first born for non-wizards, but an appropriate age in the magical community.

The night had been long and arduous for her husband. He had clutched his wife's weak white hands, paced the small room consistently, and had written a letter to his newborn baby. But our tale does not begin with him, nor with his wife.

It begins with the break of a new day, and the wail of the baby. The newborn babe had been placed into a woven bassinet a few hours after its arrival into the world. Then, after a short journey seaward, it was placed before the door of a simple shanty. The letter had been sealed and tucked into the swaddling clothes, and a hastily written note was placed in plain sight for the tenants of the home.

He had caressed a soft cheek gently before galloping away into the black night. That had been four hours ago, and now the baby was hungry.

The cries rivaled even the crow of the rooster.

Alan stretched his arms wide over his head, and turned to look at his wife. "What in bloody hell is that awful noise?"

With her eyes still closed, she murmured, "I am surprised you do not recognize it. We have had three already." Their three children were currently snuggled deep into the rough cloth blanket. The racket was not coming from any of them. Besides, they had for the most part outgrown the tendency to scream and cry early in the morning.

Alan's feet thudded heavily on the dirty floor as he heaved himself out of the bed. He trudged slowly across the little room, and opened the creaking door. Rubbing his eyes sleepily, he looked down and received one of the biggest surprises of his life.

Working on the lands, hearing the incorrigible stories, listening to the rough language, it took a lot to faze Alan. But babies did not just show up in front of his home everyday. Or any day, actually.

"Emily," he called, still staring. "Come look." He heard a rustling as his wife pulled herself out of the bed. As she walked over, he bent down to pick up the two folded letters. Frowning at both of them, the sealed letter and the short scribble, he said, "Emily, what in God's name does this say?"

Emily glanced at the cursive script, then at Alan with a raised eyebrow. "We can ask Father Joseph to read it for us." She cast her eyes toward the still wailing baby and sighed.

Without a word, she gathered the baby into her arms and carried it back into the small hovel.

960 A.D. (Eight Years Later...)

"Rowena!" Cecily's shrill voice rang out across the small glen. Cecily was older than Rowena by three years, and flaunted it at every opportunity. Sometimes she would smugly say, "Mama asked me to buy food at the markets today," or sighing, "A handsome boy was staring at me yesterday in the village." Rowena much preferred her two older brothers, Robert and Geoffrey, to talk to, but they had taken to working on the lands with their father, Alan.

Rowena was neither old enough to attend the markets alone or interested enough in boys to really care about what her sister was saying. While Cecily rambled on, she often half-listened and half-daydreamed. Staring up at the sky, imagining she was flying, free from Cecily's prattle, seemed a lot better than hearing the older girl's gossip.

"Rowena, come here!" Sighing, Rowena picked herself up from the hard earth and dejectedly trudged to her older sister. Cecily stood at the top of the hill surveying the scene on the other side. Her dark brown hair blew messily around her sharp face. Rowena's own white-blond hair contrasted clearly with Cecily's. Strangers often remarked on how different the two girls looked, as if they weren't even sisters. Their mother Emily often just gave a tight-lipped smile and herded the girls along their way.

The older girl half turned as Rowena steadily ascended the grassy slope. Together they stood, cloaks billowing from the cold wind. The cloudiness of the sky gave their faces a pale tint. On the hilltop, Rowena could see the blue ocean, waves crashing in the distance. Cecily bent closer to Rowena and began to whisper.

"See that man with the blue cloak? He's a wizard," she said knowingly. The man in question was currently trying to pass the hill, but was detained by a group of boys. They were pitching rocks at him.

"How do you know?" Rowena asked, slightly in awe. She had heard of wizards from her parents, mostly bad things. To think... a wizard in her village? It was unheard of. She felt a shiver of fear, and hoped that the boys would drive him away.

She stared as the wizard walked faster, away from the boys. They hurled small stones, often missing their target, but sometimes nailing the man who was so pointedly ignoring them.

"Bastard!"

"Wizard!"

"Monster!"

Rowena winced and Cecily cheered as a stone hit the wizard's head, causing it to snap forward in pain. He crumbled to the ground.

Like vultures to corpses, the boys descended on the helpless wizard. More young children began to arrive. Cecily seized Rowena's hand and excitedly said, "Come! We can join them."

She ran down the green hillside with Rowena in tow. The cold wind blew through their streaming hair as they dashed down the slope. Weaving through the chaotic children, they came to a halt at the unconscious and bleeding man.

Rowena saw that he was not at all unlike her. She did a quick check. Two eyes, two ears, one nose, one mouth... He seemed like a person. His hair was of a similar colour to Rowena's, but darker. However, some of it was matted with blood, and some of it had trickled to his face. There was a cut on his lip.

Cecily delivered a vicious kick to the wizard's abdomen as the boys paused in admiration. Rowena stood watching, her brow furrowed. She didn't want to actually inflict pain on him, so she simply stared.

Then somehow, as if by some sort of fate, she looked up and caught the eye of a boy. He was around Cecily's age, perhaps a bit older. His hair was mussed, dark and long, and his hazel eyes accentuated the spray of freckles across his face. His clothing was dark, almost black. They locked gazes, silently. As the wizard was being beaten and pounded, the two kindred became lost in one another.

"Children!" Emily stood at the top of the hill, with a furious motherly look on her face. "Get back! Now!"

"You're in trouble now," sneered one of the boys to Cecily. She turned her nose up at him and pulled Rowena with her toward Emily. Rowena stole one last glance at the boy who had so captured her attention, but he had already turned away.

They reached the top of the hill; Emily seemed to be even more intimidating up close. Cecily and Rowena stopped a few steps short, with looks of shame on their faces. Rowena's was genuine; Cecily's was not.

"What have you been doing?" Emily's voice was cold, but not fully devoid of motherly intentions.

"Mama, please," pleaded Cecily. "We were only having some fun."

"Fun? Do you call that fun? Hurting an innocent man like that..." Emily grabbed both Cecily and Rowena by the arms and pulled them like a mother hen herding her chicks. "Never, in all my life..." She began to lead them back to the small shanty that was their home. Rowena cast one last look of longing over her shoulder, but the boy had bent down to help the wizard. Strange.

During the walk home, Emily admonished the two girls, thought not as much as they expected. Emily seemed a bit disturbed at the wizard's presence. "Wasting time like that... Cecily, go back into the garden and finish the weeding. Rowena, come with me."

Cecily sullenly walked out the home again, slamming the wooden door behind her. Emily pulled out a basket full of rough, folded cloth and beckoned to Rowena to sit beside her. "We must continue with this, or you will never learn how to do it."

At a brisk pace, Emily showed Rowena the basics of sewing, hemming, darning... However, Rowena couldn't push the thoughts of the boy out of her mind.

970 A.D. (10 Years Later...)

"Oh, excuse me, I am so sorry," said Rowena hastily. Her basket had fallen to the ground, food and cloth spilling everywhere.

"It was my fault," apologized the young man. He was too old to be considered a boy, but his smooth face gave him the impression of youthfulness. He bent down to join Rowena as she picked up her belongings and purchases, which had mingled with those that had fallen out of the man's pockets. The busy crowd wove around them.

"Here you are," said the man, handing her a loaf of bread. She accepted it, and picked up a short, polished wooden stick.

"Is this yours?" His face paled slightly, but not enough to attract Rowena's attention. He swiftly took it from her outstretched hand, glad she was too distracted to think much of it.

"Ah, thank you. I think this belongs to you as well. Do you think we have everything?"

"Yes, thank you." They straightened up, giving Rowena a better look at the man she had collided with. He wore black clothes and was tall, with a messy mop of dark hair. She looked into his hazel eyes, then awkwardly looked away. "Thank you," she repeated again.

"I was in your way; it was the least I could do," he insisted. A short pause passed before the young man spoke again. "You look... very familiar. Have I seen you around here before?"

"Oh, not likely," Rowena answered. "Usually my sister is the one who comes, but she recently went to live with her new husband and her duty was passed onto me." She gestured to the bustling crowds of people in the market around her. "Busy day, is it not?"

"I would not know," he replied. "I do not come here often, actually." He wanted to add that he would be coming more often now that he met her, but decided against it. "My name is William. I will keep an eye out for you next time I come." Yes, he would definitely have to come to these non-magical markets more often.

She smiled. "Until next time, then."

Rowena had an extra lift in her step as she headed home.

* * *

"Rowena!" Emily was exasperated. "Where have you been?"

"I am sorry, Mother," Rowena replied, trying her best to make her voice seem shameful. "It will never happen again."

"Good." Emily's voice was crisp, though not unkind. "Now, come join me. I need to have a talk with you."

Rowena placed her basket of goods by the door, and trod over to where her mother was sitting. Gathering her skirts together, she propped herself against the wooden beam and looked expectantly at Emily.

Emily placed her sewing aside and turned to Rowena, looking grave. "Now Rowena, you know your father and I love you very much." Rowena nodded. "Well, we have to tell you something. And your father, being the man that he is, decided to give me the opportunity to tell you." Emily faltered, and trailed off.

"Mother?" Rowena bent forward, concerned. "What's wrong?"

Emily held up a hand and took a moment to gather herself together. Then, she reached into her apron and pulled out a folded, crumpled parchment paper. Holding it out, she handed it to Rowena, saying, "This is for you."

Rowena hesitantly took it from Emily's outstretched hand. She looked down at the front, and saw a jumble of letters... a word. "Mother... You know I cannot read this."

"Neither can I, my dear. I had Father Joseph read it eighteen years ago but I cannot remember for the life of me how the letter goes. You may want to visit him again and ask him to read it for you." She hesitated. "It... It is not my place to tell you."

"Mother, please. Tell me."

A long silence passed before Emily spoke again. Her voice shook with suppressed emotion as she recalled that altering night.

"Eighteen years ago," she began, "Alan and I woke up one morning to hear a baby crying in front of our door. It was you." She lifted her head and looked straight into Rowena's blue eyes. "We had no idea where you had come from, or why you were sent to us, but we found two letters. The first was a short note to us. The second was for you. This one was for you." She took a deep breath and continued on.

"Of course we did not know what it said. I suggested to your father that we take it to Father Joseph, so we did." Rowena began to take deep breaths. This was not true... This was not true...

"Father Joseph read us the shorter one first, the one that was unsealed. It said..." Tears began to form in Emily's eyes. "It asked us to take care of you, and that one day, your true father would be back for you. Your mother died giving birth, and your father could not bear the responsibility then. There was too much going on in the world."

"I... I am not your daughter?" Rowena croaked.

Barreling on before she would broke down completely, Emily said, "You are our daughter. But by blood, no. No, you are not. And... And you are also not..."

"Mother, what is it?" Rowena bent forward, and placed a hand over Emily's. "Tell me," she begged.

"You are a witch," Emily blurted out quickly. "The note for us... it told us..."

Rowena recoiled, and stared with empty eyes. This was not true. In shock, without a word, she stood and turned away. Clutching the letter, she quickly walked out of the small home. Breaking into a run, she raced as fast as she could to the small chapel over the hills.

This was not true. She was not a witch. She was not a monster. Emily lied.

Unnoticed by Rowena, an eagle soared high overhead into the clouds, unseen.

The sun was beginning to set. An array of oranges and yellows leapt into the sky, and the rays of light danced among the clouds. When Rowena had finally reached the small run-down chapel, the sun was on the horizon, a glowing orb. The chapel loomed tall over her though not threatening, yet she was hesitant about entering. She stared at the giant stone cross on the rooftop.

Rowena pushed the wooden doors open gently. They were silent, and so was the empty chapel. Her feet made a slight padding sound as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. The letter was still clasped in her hand.

"Hello?" She called out hesitantly. "Father Joseph?" The echoes bounced off the walls before becoming silent. Then...

"Rowena! How lovely to see you again, my dear!" A short, pleasantly plump man with a fringe around his partly bald head came out from behind the front of the chapel. Normally, Rowena couldn't help but smile at the beaming priest, but this time, her face was empty.

"It is good to see you again, Father Joseph."

"Yes, yes, very nice to see you too. Now, what can I do for you?" He clasped his hands together and looked at Rowena expectantly.

Silently, Rowena held out her letter. "Have you seen this before?"

Father Joseph's face lost a bit of his jollity as he gazed at the letter. Rowena waited breathlessly for him to say something.

Suddenly, he turned and began walking in the direction he had come. Rowena was stunned. Where was he going? Wasn't he going to answer her?

Halfway down the aisle, he turned around again. "Quickly, girl, move along!"

Relieved, Rowena followed his quick, urgent pace. He led her to a small room she had never seen before behind the front of the chapel. A few doors were placed around the small stone room, and he opened one, gesturing for her to quickly go inside. She stepped in, partly confused, partly excited. Would he tell her what was happening?

The new room appeared to be a study at first. There was a table and a few chairs scattered around. Father Joseph stepped in and closed the door. Rowena stood awkwardly in the middle of the room until he sat down in a chair by the table and gestured for her to take the seat by him.

"Now, tell me, where did you get this?"

"My mother gave it to me just now," said Rowena softly. "I... I cannot read it, of course, and she suggested you read it to me."

Father Joseph sighed. "Well, I had read it eighteen - has it been eighteen already? - years ago. I remember it quite vividly." He took the letter from Rowena and opened it. In the middle of unfolding it, he paused.

"Have you seen its seal yet?" Rowena shook her head.

He returned the letter, backside facing up, so she could see the reddish seal that had been broken so many years ago.

It was barely decipherable. Some of the ridges had rubbed smooth, and small chips here and there had been broken off. If she squinted hard enough, Rowena thought she could make out the small form of a bird in the center of the crest.

She handed it back silently, and Father Joseph opened it again. Rowena saw a jumble of letters on the page, and wished she could understand what they said.

"Rowena," Father Joseph said, hesitantly, "this is very... This will change your life. Are you sure you want to know what this letter says?"

Rowena knitted her eyebrows together. "What do you mean? Father, I do not know who this letter is from. I do not know what it tells me. I do not know anything about it, only that it is for me. Please, read it to me." She needed to know. She needed to make sure it was not true.

Father Joseph regarded her with sharp eyes. He was unused to such a stance from the girl. He cast his eyes upward and hoped she would be forgiven this once. It was her fault she had evil magic in her soul.

"Have it your way then, Rowena. But remember, I did warn you.

My dearest Rowena, (it began)

I am sorry. I am sorry for what I will do, and what you will have to experience later. I only wish it had turned out differently.

You should be a young woman by the time you read these words. I requested you receive this letter when you are old enough to understand. I do not know much about the non-magical community, but I do know that it should keep you safe from the harm you may experience as a witch. And it is true. You are a witch. You are my daughter.

Your mother's name was Anne, and she was the most beautiful woman I had ever met. She is gone now, but I will not let that deter me from what I must do. You are the most beautiful baby in the world, and I am heartbroken that I must let you go. You are the only reminder I have of Anne, and my blood, my life, my love.

I want to keep you, but I cannot. There is too much prejudice and hatred of wizards and witches in the world right now. I cannot help the movement and protect you at the same time. I cannot do that without corrupting you.

I will be back one day. I will come and take you with me, and I will teach you about magic.

Your father,
Sir Hugh of the Ravenclaw

That is all," finished Father Joseph.

Rowena sat as still as stone. This was not true.

"Rowena..." Father Joseph peered closely at her face. "Rowena, you are still one of us, you do realize that? This... This "Sir Hugh of the Ravenclaws"... He is gone. Look at you, you cannot do magic, can you? You are not a witch." He prayed she would see it his way. He would be upset if she was punished later because of something she could not fix.

Rowena looked at Father Joseph. She felt torn. Trembling, she took the letter back, and refolded it with care. She pressed her lips together, silent, emotionless.

She managed to say a quick "Thank you" before rising from the chair and swiftly leaving the room. Father Joseph did not follow her.

A jumble of thoughts ran through her mind as she raced out of the chapel. This was not true. She was not a witch.

Rowena ran into the wind, her flaxen hair streaming behind her. She ran without a destination, without a care. It was dusk now, and the night sky settled down like a blanket upon the land.

She ran until she could run no longer, and collapsed by an oak tree. Panting heavily, she leaned her head against its mossy trunk, looking to the darkening sky. She remembered the day she and Cecily had climbed up this very hill, and watched a wizard in blue robes take a beating from a group of boys. This must be what the so-called Sir Hugh had been talking about. Prejudice against the magical. But the wizard hadn't seemed like a monster then. In fact, she had felt sorry for him.

Was this true? Was she a witch? The letter was most definitely not fake. The script was too beautiful, too real.

She sat under the tree until the sky turned black and starry. Her thoughts were too confusing. She would have to sort this out later, when she could think properly. Her heart was still beating fast.

Rowena gathered herself together and, still clutching the letter, stood up slowly. The tiny village could be seen far away over the hills, firelight twinkling in the distance. The reds and yellows flickered in the clear night, mesmerizing.

If she was a witch, then why didn't she ever do magic? Rumor was that wizards could kill people with the murmur of a few words, or stare at a candle and it would light itself. Rowena stared at a few blades of grass to see if she could make them catch fire. They moved, but she attributed it to the wind.

Sighing, she headed home.

971 A.D. (One Year Later... Interlude)

"Push!"

Rowena let out a strangled cry. "It hurts!" She gasped out.

Emily frowned. "Rowena, push harder."

"I am trying!"

Hours of pain, and the moment of truth had arrived. The air stilled, and a cry was heard. Emily wiped the blood off the baby and handed it to Rowena's outstretched arms. "'Tis a baby boy," she said, smiling. Emily wiped her hands and went to call William into the room.

He walked in a bit nervously, but smiled when he saw his wife. He settled back on the bed with her, and Rowena leaned into him, gazing at her newborn son. They had already decided on a name -- Thomas for a boy, and Alice for a girl. Traditional names were something that they had both been adamant about.

Rowena and William had been married for only a little while before she became pregnant. Emily and Alan had begun to complain about Rowena's single status, and nagged at her to marry someone. She was getting too old. Cecily had married a long time ago, and Robert and Geoffrey both took young wives years ago.

Finally, one day, Rowena arrived home from the markets with a man who she introduced as William. Introductions were made, questions were asked and before she knew it, she and William had been married by Father Joseph. Rowena managed to keep her secret, and William managed to keep his, ironically.

And now they had a child - a child of pure blood.

"Rowena." William's voice was gentle. "You need rest."

"I am fine," she said impatiently. "Let me stay with my new son." William laughed.

"For a little while."

"Thank you."

Rowena's face was pale, but she shone with the brilliance of a new mother. William's face was proud. Emily couldn't help grinning at them.

"Just wait until Alan and the others hear about this. Aren't you lucky I came to visit for today? I just had a feeling." Emily shook her head. "Another grandchild for me to spoil."

* * *

"William, how did you do that?" asked Rowena sleepily. She had only been asleep for a little while, and their home had been cleaned, tidied and straightened. And Thomas was happily napping.

He smiled. "Magic."

She laughed softly, sounding a bit hollow. "No, you are just talented husband." She cast a glance around the room. "How is Thomas doing?"

"Sleeping soundly," replied William. "He is an angel."

"Good," murmured Rowena. She let out a puff of air and turned on her side. Her head was heavy and she felt as if she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. Just as she was in the state between dreams and reality, she thought she saw William holding a wooden stick.

976 A.D. (Five Years Later...)

"Rowena?" William staggered in, hunched from the weight of the baskets on his shoulders. He seemed distracted, somehow.

Swiftly, Rowena hid the project she was working on and pulled out a pair of trousers. "I am almost finished; give me some more time."

William nodded and walked out of the room again, almost spilling the entire basket as he hit the low doorframe.

She waited for a bit until she was sure he would not return. Pulling out her other project, she stared at it forlornly.

Rowena was unsure why she made it. The last thing she needed right now was evidence of her impurity. But... she had felt the need. Perhaps it was for affirmation? That such a ridiculous garment would never fit her, because she wasn't a witch. She was a non-magical woman, living with a non-magical husband, and bore a non-magical son.

Tentatively, she put the hat slowly on to her head, afraid something would happen. It was a bit too big, and fell over her eyes. Darkness. Quickly, she yanked it off and let it drop into the basket. Rowena stared at it until she felt sure she was safe. She sighed, deciding to forget about it for now.

"Thomas!" Rowena called. Five-year-old Thomas ran into the room quickly. He grew fast, and was curious about everything and anything in the world around him. His hair was a mixture of Rowena and William's -- a light sandy blonde.

"Thomas, do you think you might like to accompany me to the market?" Rowena asked gravely. She tried to put on a serious look as Thomas's face lit up.

"Mama, please, let me come!" He pleaded. His blue eyes opened wide and he tugged at her arm.

She laughed. "Alright, come with me," she said. In one hand, she took Thomas's own, and in the other, she grabbed her basket which still carried the wizard hat.

On her way out of the small home, she called out, "William, we will be at the market for a little while."

A muffled "Goodbye!" sounded out through one of the rooms.

Together, Rowena and Thomas made their way across the small village to the market. It was a sunny day though not boiling for which Rowena was relieved because the crowds pushed in around her and Thomas tightly. They were jostled and bumped; Rowena just about dropped her basket a few times. She held Thomas's hand protectively.

Thomas seemed a bit frightened and excited at the same time about the people around him. "Mama, look," he said, pointing to an old man propped up against a stall. He was obviously too old to be doing any work. He looked up sullenly and stared with defiantly at Rowena and Thomas.

Rowena stretched out her arm and pushed Thomas's pointing hand down. "Come with me, Thomas." She led him into the midst of the crowd and held him close while she chose a few fruits from the vendor and gave him some clothing in return.

Thomas began to turn irritable after awhile, due to a rather uninteresting crowd of old people.

"Mama, I want to go home."

"Not now, Thomas... -- I am so sorry about that, I... -- Thomas! -- I need just a little of that wheat over there... -- Thomas! -- I'm sorry..." Rowena frowned down at the little boy tugging at her skirt.

"Here you are, ma'am," said the vendor, handing over her requested goods. He grinned at Thomas. "Feisty little fellow, aren't you, little boy?"

Thomas half stared, half glared at the vendor. He detested being called a 'little boy.'

"Come along, now," said Rowena hurriedly. She dragged him away and toward the path home.

"What have I told you about talking to me when I am speaking with others?" She hated to berate her son, but had to do so, otherwise, he would never learn.

"I am sorry, Mama," he said, looking down, watching his feet.

She sighed loudly, and sneaked a glance at Thomas. "Remember for the next time, then." He nodded, glad she wouldn't be saying anything further.

They walked in silence for a short while, taking in the sights and sounds around them, when Thomas pointed ahead and shouted, "Mama, look!" They had rounded the corner, and the devastating scene lay spread out before them.

Rowena stopped in her tracks. She quickly held out an arm and pulled Thomas, who was about to run further, back. "Mama, why is there fire?"

She did not answer. Her blue eyes reflected the red flames shooting up from her home, and the homes of her friends. William was in there. She debated what to do with Thomas, and decided to leave him outside the village. She would go in herself. The flames were not too powerful yet; she would be able to enter.

Kneeling down, Rowena turned Thomas around so he faced her and not the fire. His eyes were wide, and scared. "Thomas, take this," she said, handing him the basket, "and stay here. Do not go away with anyone you do not know. Promise?" He nodded, and solemnly took the basket. She was thankful that, for such a young boy, he could be very mature at times.

Rowena kissed her son on the forehead and held him tight, then ran off toward the flames. She gathered her skirts and lifted them higher so she could run easily.

William. William was still at home. He was inside, packing bags of Rowena's clothing items to sell. She ran faster.

There were people running out of the village, and they pushed past her as she struggled to get in.

"Are you crazy, woman? Get back!" A man, older than her, tried to keep her from running in, but she broke free and ran harder.

"William?" She called. She quickly scanned the crowd running in the opposite direction, but didn't see anyone. "William?" Her voice became frantic and hoarse.

She finally reached the village, where the flames crackled and spit at her. She stopped in a clear, deserted area where she could see her home. It was burning, flames roaring high, devouring what was once her haven. Her breathing became heavy, and she began to cough from the thick smoke invading her body.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a movement. Behind the red and orange flames, she could see a few people moving... Three of them. "Hello?" She called.

Three heads snapped up and fixed themselves on her.

Instantly, they ran towards her, shouting. Rowena backed up hesitantly. They did not look too friendly. "Excuse me," she tried calling out. "Do you know where..." They were coming at her faster. Deciding that she didn't want to take any risks, she started to turn and run, but they were too fast. They had caught up quickly and descended on her.

Rowena screamed and yelled for help, but none came. The village had been deserted. She received a closer look at her three captors as they grabbed her. Two men and one woman in robes... As they bound her hands behind her back and gagged her, she felt dread washing over her body. Wizards.

The three wizards dragged her roughly in the opposite direction of where she had left Thomas. It was difficult to walk with three people clinging to her, but she managed to stay upright. The heat from the fires was making her sweat, and she found it hard to breath from the gag and smoke.

It had been silent amidst the cracking of flames, but unexpectedly, they began to talk.

"Where should we take this one?" Asked one of the two men, the taller one.

"With the others, of course," said the woman. "In there." She pointed to a cart that was waiting in the distance, away from the village.

The shorter man remarked, "Think she'll fit?"

"The cart is big enough. It will hold them all."

Slowly, they made their way to the farm cart. A wizard was sitting in the front, with a hold on the reins of the horses. Attached behind them was a small cage. Villagers were sitting inside, some of which she recognized, crammed in until there was almost no room left.

They reached the cage, and the tall male wizard pulled out a wooden stick.

"Alohamore," he said, pointing the stick at the lock. It unlocked. Rowena stared. Was that magic? What did he say?

They shoved her in harshly, and relocked it, without magic. Her three captors got in beside the driver, and they began to move. Rowena stared out the back of the cage toward the burning village. She knew Thomas was still there, on the other side, waiting.

High above, an eagle soared, lit by the brilliance of the setting sun.

* * *

"Get out," said the witch rudely. The prisoners piled out of the cart, jostling each other as they fell out. Rowena's bindings had begun to cut into her wrist, and her gag was pulling at her mouth.

The trip had seemed long, but in fact was only a short little while. However, dusk had fallen by the time they reached their destination. They had been moving along the bumpy road, when suddenly the air shimmered around them and a castle-like estate loomed up out of nowhere. It seemed to just resonate darkness around it, and the air grew cold as they approached.

A few nasty-looking wizards were standing outside at one of the lower entrances. The driver of the cart took them inside, and after a few twists and turns in dark stone corridors, they had arrived in the damp dungeon.

Torches were lined up along the wall, and a few wizards held some wooden sticks with sparkling lights on the end. Rowena was desperate to find out what these sticks were, and how they could perform all these tricks.

Rowena was at a loss. She needed an idea, a plan, but she couldn't think of one. She knew she was under captivity of wizards, but that was all. It was too dangerous to try and run away, and she wouldn't be able to run quick enough if her arms were bound.

And then it hit her, like a bright candle in the dark. Her letter.

Rowena had taken to carrying the letter everywhere with her in her dress. It was too risky to leave at home, in case someone found it. And she didn't have the heart to burn or destroy it. Deep down, she felt a connection with this Sir Hugh of the Ravenclaw.

She was pushed toward some chains and shackles on the dungeon walls where about forty or fifty other prisoners were already confined.

Rowena tried to tell the tall wizard that she was a witch, a descendant of Sir Hugh, but all that came out was, "Mmph!"

"Shaddup, girl," he said crudely. The other wizards who had joined them laughed at her. She tried in earnest to be heard.

"Mma-wch," she tried, incoherently. "Waach!"

The wizard let out a small growl, and roughly yanked the gag down to her neck. "What is it? And if you say anything I don't like..."

"I am a witch," she panted. The other wizards stared. And laughed.

"Right," said the tall one, grinning. "A regular bitch you are."

"No, please," she pleaded. "I am a witch. I am of the Ravenclaw." The wizards froze.

The tall one leaned in close to her ragged face. She could feel his breath on her. "What did you say?"

"I lived with my family for eighteen years as a non-magical person. I was... abandoned. My... father, his name is Sir Hugh. Please, I am a witch," she implored. The words felt dirty, but they were capturing the wizards' attention.

The tall wizard's face had become pale, and he looked at his friends in dejection. The other, shorter, one, sneered, "Prove it."

Relieved, Rowena cast a quick thank you in her mind that she kept the letter. "Reach into my pocket there... No, that other one. Yes, read it."

The wizards crowded around the dirty parchment, and read the letter. Their eyes moved as they skimmed across the words, and Rowena became envious. Could all wizards read?

They looked at her reproachfully. "Let her go," said a wizard in purplish robes. "We can see if she is telling the truth. Perhaps we can ask him...?"

"I will go to the others and see what they will say," said the tall wizard. He went through a small archway and disappeared into the darkness. Some of the other wizards waited with Rowena while a few others decided to move the other villagers into the shackles and chains.

After a long and agonizing wait, the tall wizard came back accompanied by a witch. They walked up to Rowena and the other wizards, letting the witch survey Rowena seriously.

"Should we just tie her up?" Asked one of the wizards.

"Hush," said the witch, annoyed. She moved closer to Rowena and took her arm. "I will take her up to my bedroom to clean up, and we will present her later. She might not really be who she says she is." Taking the letter and tucking it into her pocket, she led Rowena out of the dark dungeon and into another passageway. The wizards left behind stared at their retreating forms, shrugged, and turned back to the other wide-eyed prisoners.

"My name is Aline," the young woman introduced herself. "You are Rowena, I assume?" Aline was tall, with straight brown hair, and she seemed only a few years younger than Rowena herself. She carried an air of elegance about her, especially now that Rowena could see her clothing. They were those of a lady, not a farmer girl or worker. She had seemed out of place in the dungeons below, and now seemed less tense and more considerate.

"Yes," Rowena replied. "Where are you taking me?"

"Where I said I would be taking you. My bedroom. It is not actually mine, but mine for the time being, anyway, just for my visit here. You need to be cleaned." Aline's gaze was critical.

Rowena looked down at herself and realized for the first time that she truly was grimy. The soot and ashes from the fires had stained themselves to her brown dress, and her hands were black with dirt and mud. She was wearing shoes, but they were crusted in filth.

The two women kept silent as they walked through the tunnels. Their ghostly shadows flickered against the walls until some light shone through an opening.

"This way," Aline instructed. She stepped out of the dark tunnel into another corridor. This one was large, spacious, and decorated with green tapestries. Rowena left a faint trail of dirt with each step she took, and she winced when Aline noticed.

The ceilings rose high, higher than any room Rowena had ever been in. There were long vertical slits on one side of the corridor walls where the cold air flowed in. Rowena thought she could see part of the ocean through them. The little grey light that was left in the sky streamed in and caught dust specks in the air. She was distracted, however, when Aline led her to a doorway.

"In here." They stepped into a room, grander than anything Rowena had ever dreamed about. This must be how kings and queens lived.

Though incredibly exquisite to Rowena, the room was simple. A polished oak table stood to the side with a few chairs surrounding it. A wardrobe stood on the opposite end of the room, and there was a small raised platform extending from the wall. The room was obviously someone's sleeping quarters. A round window was placed high on the wall, and the room was illuminated with a few candles.

"This is my bedchamber while I stay in the castle," confessed Aline. "If you really are of the Ravenclaw, I would not protest to your use of my clothing." She tried a polite smile at the tired woman in front of her, but was greeted with silence. Rowena wanted to ask who lived here and why she had been brought up, but was unable to utter the words.

Sighing, Aline crossed the room to pull open the wardrobe. Rowena caught a glimpse of a pile of fine dresses before Aline pulled one out and shut its doors. "Take this one," she offered.

The dress was light blue, with a white trim and lace. Rowena gasped. "Oh, I could never wear something as beautiful as that."

"Why not?" asked Aline quizzically. She shook her head. "Never mind, just take this."

Trembling, Rowena took the dress from Aline and held it away from her body so as not to damage it. "Stay here for one moment," instructed Aline.

She went through a small entryway in the back of the room and Rowena thought she could hear some mumbling coming from within. Then, a gush of water. Aline reentered the room, saying, "Come. You may cleanse yourself in here."

Still holding the dress, Rowena walked to where Aline stood. A bath was inside the stone room, filled with water. Rowena's face must have showed confusion, because Aline laughed, saying, "Magic, my dear." She left the small room and went back to the larger one, tidying and straightening her belongings as she waited for Rowena.

The water was lukewarm as Rowena tested it with a finger. She stripped her clothes off, from her torn apron to her dirty shoes. Stepping gingerly, cautiously, into the water, she immersed herself completely. She said there for a few minutes before she began to cry.

She had absolutely no idea where she was. She had revealed she was a witch. Thomas was gone, and William was missing.

Tears began to stream down her cheeks silently, leaving streaks in the dirt. She tried her best not to make a sound, but a few whimpers escaped helplessly. Rowena splattered the water a bit, to try and muffle the sound. Splashing water onto her face, she washed her tears away.

* * *

"How does this look?" Rowena asked. Aline looked up to see Rowena standing shyly in the doorframe. The blue dress fit her beautifully, though a few spots here and there seemed too small.

"Wonderful," Aline replied. "Blue suits you quite well, you know."

"Thank you. And thank you for letting me wear this. It is more than I have ever..." Rowena trailed off, a bit embarrassed at her status so far down the ladder compared to Aline.

"Do not worry!" Aline laughed. "I did offer it, correct?"

Rowena nodded. Aline's speech was also more refined than her own. "You look very fine yourself." While Rowena had been bathing, Aline had changed into a white dress, with a white robe to keep herself warm.

"Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?" Rowena was confused. What was going to happen now?

"The festivities, of course." Aline briskly gathered her hair together and put it into a complicated braid. Half-down her back, it began to get sloppy. "Oh, bother, I can never do this right and the servants have gone to help with the party. Do you know how to braid hair?" She looked at Rowena expectantly.

"Oh, of course, all women do." Rowena crossed the room to continue where Aline's long braid had left off. "You were saying that we are to go to festivities of some sort?"

Laughing, Aline said, "I forgot you don't know. You have been living with those non-magicals for so long. Tonight, we are celebrating the successful raid."

Rowena froze, then quickly began to braid again. "Raid?"

"An extremely noble Viking clan has come to visit my family here in the castle. Well, we are only distantly related. I am a cousin to the couple's son. Luckily, I came and discovered that the clan had already arrived. Apparently, they and my family have a long history of family friendships, so they decided to come here on their yearly raids."

"Who do they raid?" Rowena tried to ask innocently.

"Non-magicals, of course." Aline laughed. "You really are naive about these matters, aren't you?"

Rowena bristled at the comment, but kept her mouth shut. She finished plaiting Aline's hair.

"Thank you," she said. "Now we must go. It has been long enough, we will be late."

Rowena once again followed Aline through a series of corridors and halls. She tried to take in the detail, but Aline was walking too quickly and there was simply too much to look at.

There were candles on lining the hallway. Rowena stared. Candle were a rarity in the village, and to see so many of them here was strange. The lights flickered gently, and thin streaks of smoke curled up from the flames.

After what seemed to be forever, they reached a pair of large closed doors. Rowena thought she could hear a few faint sounds of laughter and gaiety coming from within.

Aline smiled reassuringly at Rowena. Pushing the doors open, a gust of warm air and loud discussion flooded them. The room was large and decorated with all sorts of what Rowena considered to be riches. Tapestries hung from the walls, and the guests were holding brass goblets.

The people... they were all wizards and witches of all ages in ornate robes. They were dancing, laughing, eating. Three tables were lined up in the room, taking up over half the space. There was more food on the tables than what Rowena probably ate in a year.

Rowena stood at the entrance in a state of shock. A few of the wizards glanced over, gave her a strange look, smiled at Aline, and then went back to their business. Rowena had never seen so many people in high cheer. Then she remembered what Aline had said, and why they were celebrating. She began to feel sick.

"Look!" Aline said, pointing. "That is my cousin over there. See those three people? He is the light-haired one." Rowena looked, and saw a group of three people sitting in the corner by themselves, talking softly.

"Go to them," Aline urged. "My cousin is kind, he will take care of you. I am sure the other two are just as nice. I want to go talk to that man in the corner." She hurried away to speak with the handsome man that she had set her eye upon, leaving Rowena lost.

Sighing, she looked toward the people to which Aline had pointed to. They didn't seem to look as 'nice' as Aline had said, but what could be the worst that could happen?

Casting one last glance at Aline, now chatting animatedly with the man, Rowena made her way through the crowd, careful not to bump into anyone.

She approached nervously, and when she was within hearing range, the three inhabitants of the end of the table looked up at her. Taking a closer look, she seemed to be the oldest of them all.

Aline's cousin had light blonde hair, and he even shared a few of the same facial features as Aline did -- a sharp nose and high cheekbones. His eyes were grey, and there were freckles sprinkled slightly across the bridge of his nose and under his eyes. But there was something about his face that seemed a bit impish. Not ugly, but very unique.

The other man, seemingly the youngest, had darker hair, and green eyes. He didn't seem too cheerful at the moment. His clothing was not as fine as Aline's cousin's, but he didn't seem to be a poor peasant. In fact, all of the wizards seemed to live comfortably.

The last of the three was a witch, sitting beside Aline's cousin. She had the darkest hair of all, and it was pulled back in plaits that were even longer than Aline's. She had a faint yet noticeable bruise on her right cheek, but the lights in the room were not bright enough for Rowena to inspect it any closer. The robes of the witch were also the finest of them all.

"May I sit here?" Asked Rowena nervously. "Aline said..."

"Of course you may," the cousin replied, offering a kind smile. He gestured to the seat across from him. "Have a seat here, by Godric."

Rowena sat by the dark-haired man, smiling timidly. He offered a smile back, but it was forced and did not quite reach his eyes.

"My name is Salazar," said Aline's cousin. "And this is Helga." The girl looked coldly at her. Rowena decided never to trust Aline on her judgments again. Salazar took a goblet off of a tray by a passing server, and placed it in front of Rowena. She gingerly took a sip.

"Thank you," she said. "It is a pleasure to meet you all."

~ * ~