The Clear Light of Dawn

From Rowena Ravenclaw, at Hogwarts Castle

To Helga Hufflepuff, wherever she may be wandering

I have always wanted to journey to Avalon. Why did you not take me with you? I really cannot stand to stay anymore in this castle with Godric and Salazar pulling their hair out and randomly screaming and taking walks in the Forest that last for days. When they practice their fencing now I do think that they really want to kill each other. Godric is losing his health, staying in his bed often and sweating and catching a horrid cold from the littlest breeze. Salazar seems as pale as the lilies that have begun to sprout. They can't live without you. I can't live without you. You have to come back, for more reasons than one.

Not only is Salazar in bad health, I think that he is doing something very odd in his dungeons. I cannot truly be sure what, but I am very wary of it. Sometimes I sense disturbances coming from the lower wings of the Castle, and I know that if you were to return you could placate him a little. I do not have that same sort of wonderful way with words that you do. It seems that he thinks that I have none of the wonderful ways in anything that you do.

Rowena, S.O.Y.S.

From Godric Gryffindor, at Hogwarts Castle

To Helga Hufflepuff

I am very ill, as no doubt Rowena's missive has informed you. I shake and sweat and have no rest at all, without your spells to heal me. Yet it is more than your spells that I need. I need you by me, I need to hear your voice, which is as sweet as any phoenix's song. I think that I will nevermore be well until you return. Have your children here. Rowena will care for you and you shall have all you desire. They will be brought up as befits the children of the most powerful witch in all Britannia, if not the entire world. Only do not stay away.

Godric Gryffindor

From Salazar Slytherin, at Hogwarts Castle

To the Lady Helga Hufflepuff

Forgive me. I cannot live without your forgiveness.

Salazar Slytherin

* * * * *

The horse was trotting complacently, trampling the tall grasses in his path. The day was fair, the sky a pleasant shade of azure painted with fluffy masses of clouds. It was the very beginning of spring, when one's only thought is the beauty of the earth and the blossoms yet to come. Few of the flowers had yet matured, but here and there one could see an old stone wall covered with moss and vines springing to life in the fragrant bunches of crimson jasmine that hung languidly from the stones.

Yet it was merely potential that stirred the earth. Few colors had invaded on the cold stranglehold of winter other than that vibrant dark green. The trees, though there very few on this moor, showed signs of life in the small clusters of what would someday be pink and white masses of petals. It was into this almost paradisiacal landscape that Helga Hufflepuff rode in the early morning. She had been traveling for some days, perhaps even a week. The letters from the other Founders lay in her sack. She had read them, but to be honest, they had not really affected her. She was entirely set in her path. Besides, what she had seen along her journey so far had enchanted her. Traveling quickly, she had managed to reach the small village of Selkirk, near the Cheviot Hills. Yet she had a very long way to go to the land of Somerset and the Lake of Avalon.

* * * * *

"Salazar, you've been locked up in there for five days. Please, please come out. I've even made some fresh haggis for you because you love it so much...And you really do need to get some sun, I suppose you're as white as death in there..."

"I'll come out when she comes to get me."

"Don't be such a child. You're going to open that door and eat your haggis right now!"

"No, I'm not! I'm working on something very important. Go away."

"Oh, don't even try that old excuse with me. You know as well as I that you are doing nothing productive at all." Her voice grew shrill. "Now come out this instant or I shall go get Godric to knock this door down."

"He can't, he's sick, remember? All because you were never very good at Herbology and didn't tell him that dogsbane is poisonous. Tsk, tsk."

"I won't stand for your sarcasm, you know..." Yet she realized that she situation was unsolvable and essentially pointless, so she whipped out her wand, muttered the requisite spell, and the door flew open.

Salazar was nowhere in sight. Probably hiding behind a cauldron, she thought to herself. She left the steaming plate of haggis by the door and closed it. She had to face facts. Salazar and Godric were both dangerously sick and none of her Astronomy or Transfigurations or Arithmancy was going to help them.

Well, there was always Divination, she supposed. That was it. She'd find from her crystals where Helga was, and simply Apparate. How simple. She was surprised she hadn't thought of it before, and, gladdened, traipsed upstairs to the small dank room that housed the Divination equipment.

* * * * *

"Do pardon me, mistress, but what are your rates?"

The greasy-lipped innkeeper eyed her warily. "So who'n be ye?"

"What?" Helga, her ears trained to the mild Continental accents of Godric, Salazar, and Rowena, could hardly understand the frizzy-haired, plump woman.

"I did say, so who'n ye be? Why shud I be of'rin ye a room if'n y'cannot e'en unnerstan' me?"

"Mistress, I do come from another part of this region and I am sorry if I understand you not..."

The woman rolled her eyes, stick out her plump hand, and announced imperiously, "That pin ye d'have in yer cloak wi' do well." Helga sighed, unpinned her cloak, and gave the jeweled silver fastening to the woman. "Righ' then, up'n th' stairs ye go, an' firs' room y'see."

Helga picked up her bag, threw a surreptitious glare at the greedy innkeeper, and went up the fragile, narrow stairs that creaked with her every step. She had not seen any others inns in Selkirk, so she supposed that it was this or sleep outside, or put a spell on some villager to make them think she was the Queen of Britain. However, the only really ethical choice was to stay at the inn.

The room was small and dark, lit only by two candles. A rather large bed occupied nearly all the space, covered with furs and a few rough pillows. It would suffice, for she was very weary. The rain outside pounded on the shuttered window as she, shivering, changed into her nightclothes, noticing that her belly had grown somewhat in the last few weeks. By her count, she would be delivered in four moons or so. Four moons to reach Avalon, she mused as she drifted into slumber.

* * * * *

As Rowena hoisted the heavy crystal ball out of a cupboard, a small piece of parchment fell to the floor from the shelf. She cocked an eyebrow, put the crystal on the floor, and reached for the parchment. As she touched it, it slowly grew into a large sheet that appeared blank. Intrigued, Rowena watched as flowing gold writing began to form itself on the paper.

Dearest Rowena, if you're reading this than you must be thinking what I knew you would think: to search in your crystal ball for me. I implore you not to. I can receive your owls and will write to you if I get the time, but, sister, you know that if I left Hogwarts it must have been for a good reason. Trust me and know that I will return. Hogwarts is my destiny, it's my life, but it is beginning to eat at my sanity. Tell the others I love them both very much and miss them as well. I've cast a spell, though, in case you do go in search of me. You won't be able to find me, Rowena, through any Divinations of yours. I am sorry I had to do this, but know that I love you well and will return as soon as possible.

Helga, S.O.Y.S.

Rowena cursed, crumpled the parchment into a ball, and buried her face in her hands. I can't do this alone. I need her. Can't she see that? But she knew too that all of them had always asked too much of Helga, and that she quite deserved to be away from them for a time. It did not sweeten the disappointment.

* * * * *

It seemed to Helga that as soon as she closed her eyes, the bright morning shone on them and the birds broke into a cacophonous melody that made her want to kill them and eat them for her dinner. She swung her legs over onto the floor and suddenly experienced an awful feeling of vertigo. Her stomach twisted and churned at it was all she could do to make it to the smelly chamber pot before she violently vomited. In the back of her mind, she knew she should have expected the annoying retching to begin soon. She held up her tangled red hair out of the pot and tried to hold down the next rush but had no success. Of course she had known this would happen eventually, but she really hadn't been prepared for it. She was usually a woman in the best of health. As she slid down to the floor, her eyes half-closed, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the wall. Her face was red, not the sweet ruddy color that often graced her cheeks but a rash crimson. Strands of her red hair fell all around her face. She began to cry; she really couldn't help it.

"Salazar, Salazar, Salazar...why couldn't you...why didn't you care...why did I go away? Rowena could have cared for me, I would never had to even have looked at you, Salazar..." Sobbing, her words poured out, all the frustrations that had worked up since Midsummer Night. "That night...by all the High Ones, I loved you, Salazar, I would have given my life for you, and I still will! Why am I so afflicted with this nonsensical devotion for a selfish, horrid man? Why didn't you do what would have been honorable and marry me? I would have married you, I would have lived with you for the rest of my life! But no, instead you burden me with this thing, these two things inside me and there will be so much pain, so much pain before it's all over, and Avalon is still so far away, and I can't stand this! I can't stand this uncertainty and I can't stand being without you and now I'm sick all over myself and I look like I came straight from the gates of Hell and you wouldn't care if your life depended on it!"

The part of her mind that was still rational realized that she, possibly the most powerful witch in all of Britannia, was sitting in a seedy inn on the border of Scotland retching and wailing her eyes out. She supposed that she would have to get up now, clean herself up, put on some new clothes, and set out again. The chamber was beginning to have an unpleasant stench to it. It wouldn't really be too intelligent to use her wand here, among Muggles, but she wanted to be on her way quickly. She was barely out of the land of the Northmen, and Avalon was very far.

A few hours later, she had saddled her horse, bought some bread, cheese, and ale from a street vendor, and was on her way again, leaning into the wind as she rode like lightning over the moors. The clouds hung low over her, a solitary figure shrouded in a back cloak, her red hair whipping out behind her. Soon, she realized, she wouldn't be able to ride like this anymore, not with the pregnancy advancing. She liked to think of it as racing the wind, becoming one with her horse like those Centaurs that inhabited the mountains of Greece.

The moor slowly gave way to beautiful fields of wheat seedlings, made a riotous shade of green-gold by the sun. Helga slowed her horse to a steadier pace, as she was indeed beginning to feel a slight pain in her belly. Perhaps, she thought dejectedly, thiswill be the last time I race the wind before I will have to resort to side-saddling or riding as slowly as an old woman.

Yet the day was beautiful, and Helga did not dwell long on these thoughts. Small stubborn wildflowers poked their way through the harsh soil, and she decided to dismount to give her horse some rest and break bread. Probably Salazar has put all sorts of spells on this stallion so that it cannot tire. She chuckled, knowing what a shock it must have been to Salazar to find his prize stallion gone as well as the woman bearing his child. She often wondered on how they were doing, back at Hogwarts. Most of all, she hoped that Rowena could manage Godric and Salazar. She had, of course, received the letters from all three of them, but she had thrown them in the fire when she had done. There was no sense reading and rereading them until she became so homesick that she simply went home. No, she had set her feet on this path and now she must follow it, for good or ill.

After a time, when she had finished her bread and cheese and ale, she began to sing, a plaintive but ultimately sad song of love she had heard from a visiting Irish witch in her childhood.

Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows

And fair is the lily of the valley

Clear is the water that flows from the Boyne

But my love is fairer than any.

Come over the hills, my bonny Irish lass

Come over the hills to your darling

You choose the rose, love, and I'll make the vow

And I'll be your true love forever

'Twas down by Killarney's green woods that we strayed

And the moon and the stars they were shining

The moon shone its rays on her locks of golden hair

And she swore she'd be my love forever

'Tis not for the parting that my sister pains

'Tis not for the grief of my mother

'Tis all for the loss of my bonny Irish lass

That my heart is breaking forever.

"A bonny Irish lass, hmm? You look to be more Italian than Irish to me."

She whirled around and grabbed her dagger from the folds of her skirts. The speaker was a man of about thirty years of age, with pale blond hair, cut short rather inexpertly. His eyes were a merry, twinkling shade of benevolent blue. He did not seem a danger to her, looking so kindly, but Helga knew men, and especially wandering men, too well to trust appearances.

"You shall show me no disrespect, sir, or I shall injure you where you most deserve it."

"Mistress, I mean no harm, do excuse my interruption of what meal you had."

"How comes it that I did not hear your horse coming?" She got to her feet, wiped her dress off, but still grasped the dagger firmly.

"You seemed to be very wrapped up in your singing. And by the way, my name is Owain ap Tewdyr. It really is thought courteous to introduce oneself before threatening someone's means of procreation."

"I'm with child, can't you see that?"

"That's an excuse for a growing of the belly and not much else."

"You are possibly the rudest man I have ever met!"

"You still have not told me your name."

"Helga. Helga Hufflepuff. Now what is your business?"

He shrugged good-naturedly and sat down next to her. "Only as a traveler, lady, as you seem to be."

"Such a traveler as has no horse!"

"Perhaps such a traveler as who likes to walk. Lady, I give you my word, I mean you no harm. I only saw one of my kind near and thought I might approach and give you greeting."

"The nearest village is miles and it is so tiny I doubt you could buy more than a broken-down mare. It makes no sense for you to have walked."

It was then that it dawned on Helga - this man hadn't walked, and neither did he need a horse.

He had Apparated.

* * * * *

Humming softly to himself, Godric laced up his knee-high boots and made sure his wand was in its pocket of his pants. Walking in the Forbidden Forest was always an adventure, the sort of adventure that definitely required a wand. He didn't really have much of a reason for going on a walk, only it had become somewhat of a hobby for him. He was actually trying to sneak out through some side doors before Rowena saw him going. She had been nagging him recently about his health.

He tiptoed towards the inconspicuous side doors, taking out his wand to whisper a Silencio spell to the creaky doorknob.

"Godric, don't think I don't know where you're going."

Damn. "Just a walk, is all. Really nothing to worry about."

"Well, I have to talk to you."

"About what?"

"We'll talk of it on the way. I'm coming on your walk with you."

"You haven't a cloak. You'll freeze."

Rowena threw him a look of annoyance, and snapped, "Accio cloak. Are you happy now?"

"I would be happy if you would worry less about me."

"You barely eat. You can't sleep. Don't think I can't see those circles under your eyes. And you're losing weight." Her deep blue cloak flew over the twisting staircases and into her hand. She wrapped it around her shoulders; it flowed to the ground, dragging slightly as she paced towards the doors. "Let's go. For it's not only you that I am worried for."

Godric supposed that he had no choice but to go with Rowena. He had a nagging suspicion that in his debilitated state after his cold, she was a mite more powerful than he was.