All Eyes Elsewhere

All Eyes Elsewhere
By Olive Hornby

“These disappearances must stop at once!” Gryffindor said, slamming his fist on the table.

Helga watched through hooded eyes as Ravenclaw winced and Slytherin sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I believe we are all in agreement on that, Godric. The question is how can we stop them? We do not know nearly enough about what is happening to make any sort of intelligent decisions.”

“We know that all of the missing children were last seen near the edges of the forest...” Gryffindor began.

“The forest surrounds this entire castle,” Slytherin said irritably. “By saying they were at the edge of the forest you only mean that they were outside.”

“We should restrict them to the indoors until we find out what is causing this,” Ravenclaw said, looking to Helga for affirmation.

Helga nodded dutifully.

“Of course, of course, the woman’s way is to hide,” Gryffindor said condescendingly, and Helga could feel Ravenclaw bristling next to her. “But--”

“Woman or not,” Ravenclaw snapped, “I don’t see you coming up with anything better. Unless you want more children to disappear.”

“How dare you--”

“It’s not as if people disappearing from this castle because of your lack of judgment would be anything new!” Ravenclaw continued vehemently. “If I learn of one more poor serving girl sent away with child...”

Slytherin snickered, and Gryffindor looked a bit abashed. Helga merely raised her eyebrows.

“I scarcely think that that is any of your concern,” Gryffindor hastened to say.

“There are spells to prevent that very thing, you know. You are a teacher, are you not? Could you not teach your steady stream of mistresses how to keep themselves out of such delicate positions?” Ravenclaw persisted.

“But I... dammit, woman! My personal affairs are not your concern!”

“Your personal affairs will tarnish the reputation of this school! Your continued indiscretion is disgraceful!” Ravenclaw snapped.

“Besides which, they never come to me, they always go crying to Helga,” Gryffindor complained. Slytherin cast an inscrutable look at her, and she met his gaze with wide, innocent eyes.

“Of course they go to Helga,” Ravenclaw scoffed, placing on hand on Helga’s shoulder. “Anyone would prefer a sympathetic listener to a boor like you.”

“You’ve no right to question me,” Gryffindor said, pulling himself upright. “Your female nosiness notwithstanding...”

“We have strayed from the topic at hand,” Slytherin interjected smoothly. He tented his fingers in front of him and leaned his elbows on the table. “I agree with Rowena’s suggestion that we keep the students inside for the time being. We cannot allow more students to disappear. Sooner or later one of the more affluent children will vanish and we could face serious repercussions.”

“Ah, of course,” Gryffindor said sarcastically. “Only the wealthy students are important. What astonishing coincidence that the wealthiest students are the purebloods. Like yourself. Since the only ones who have disappeared are the poorer ones of mixed blood, it is of little matter.”

“That is not what I meant,” Slytherin said evenly. “It is a simple matter of pragmatism. Angry rich parents threaten us, angry poor parents do not.”

“You’ve expressed your desire for this school to accept only children with wizard parents before,” Gryffindor persisted. “Children who, incidentally, are usually wealthier because of their parents’ abilities. If I did not know any better, I would have to conclude that you are advocating social elitism.”

“There are numerous advantages to restricting admission to pureblood children,” Slytherin stated evenly. “Not only would it reduce the likelihood of our exposure and possible action against us by uninformed Muggles, it would also keep Muggleborn wizards safer from their own families by not forcing them to lie about their entire education. There is little in our current curriculum to prepare them for returning to a Muggle life, and we do not have enough teachers to spread ourselves any further. And of course, the matter of money is not unimportant, either. Wealthier families can pay for their children’s tuition, which, considering the cost behind building and maintaining this school, is quite significant.”

“Have you not considered the damage that Muggleborn children could do if left untrained? Pureblood children are not the only ones who cast accidental magic. They could threaten themselves and everyone around them, and the Muggles around them would likely think them possessed or some other such nonsense, and could harm or kill them,” Gryffindor said.

“That is true,” Slytherin conceded. “However, we must protect our own interests first. It is difficult to protect others if we cannot protect ourselves.”

“We had agreed that there would be no tuition costs for the time being. I was under the impression that between your money and Rowena’s inheritance we had more than enough to sustain the school for another few decades.”

“We do,” Slytherin said, “but it will run out eventually. If we are to see the long-term survival of this school, we must devise a long-term financial solution, and it would be grossly unfair to only charge some students to attend, but not to charge others.”

“Of course that’s easy for you to say,” Gryffindor spat. “You and your expensive, tailored robes. Never done an honest day’s work in your life, have you, Salazar?”

Slytherin sighed.

Helga fought back a smile.

“We are off the topic again,” Slytherin reminded Gryffindor.

“Perhaps we should only allow the poor children outside,” Gryffindor snapped. “We could use them as bait to lure out whatever beast has spirited off the others.”

“Come now, Godric,” Slytherin. “No one is suggesting such a thing--”

“Begging your pardon, Lord Slytherin,” Gryffindor drawled. “We lowly vassals must be too simpleminded to comprehend your large words.”

“Gentlemen, please...” Ravenclaw interjected.

“I am no gentleman, fair lady,” Gryffindor said. “That title belongs to the wealthy,” he spat the word, “like our friend Slytherin here.”

“Helga,” Ravenclaw pleaded. “What is your take on the matter?”

“Restrict the students to the indoors,” Helga said softly, parroting Ravenclaw’s own words. “We will have to observe activity in the forest. Whatever beast is causing these disappearances will doubtless show itself in time.”

Something might show itself, but not necessarily what was taking the children. Of course, Helga knew that it was no beast spiriting them away.

Ravenclaw sighed. “It’s settled then,” she said.

“Fine,” Gryffindor snarled, casting suspicious glances between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. “But there are other issues...”

“Some issues can never be resolved, Godric,” Slytherin said calmly.

“Your appalling personality deficiencies, for example,” Ravenclaw said to Gryffindor. His eyes flashed and he rose to his feet.

“That is quite enough,” Slytherin said.

“I am not one of your servants to order about,” Gryffindor snapped.

“I am aware of that, Godric,” Slytherin said, his voice sounding more strained that before. “I simply mean to say that there is no need for this divisiveness amongst ourselves...”

“No need for divisiveness, says the man who sneaks off on his own to work on Merlin-knows-what,” Gryffindor mocked. “Just what is this secret undertaking of yours? Might it have anything to do with our disappearing students perchance?”

Slytherin looked shocked. “How dare you imply--”

Helga rose to her feet. “Rowena, Godric, Salazar,” she said softly, nodding to each one in turn. “It’s been a long day. I believe I shall retire. Good night.”

She shuffled out of the room with her head bowed, but as soon as she was out of sight of the others, she straightened her back and increased her stride. She ignored the continued sounds of her fellow Hogwarts founders’ arguing. Their petty quabbles served to distract them from her.

She found it quite amusing indeed that Gryffindor noticed Slytherin’s many absences, but never her own.

She was beneath his notice--beneath all of their notice. It didn’t bother her though, as it often bothered Ravenclaw that she frequently given less consideration than the men.

Helga preferred not to be noticed.

She went into her rooms only long enough to grab her cloak, then quickly made her way to one of the castle’s least-used doors.

She crept out of the castle with her cloak wrapped tightly around her. Even under the light of the full moon, the mottled green of the fabric would mask her presence from any curious eyes.

The forest around the castle was filled with many deadly creatures, and though Godric and Rowena habitually cautioned the students against entering it, some of the more adventurous ones disregarded their warnings. Three hadn’t come back, and even Salazar was becoming concerned, though as usual, he and Godric could not agree on an appropriate course of action. The discussion they’d just had was not a new one.

Helga merely painted a worried expression on her face and nodded at whatever Rowena said on the subject. Rowena seemed to be under the impression that she and Helga had to present a united front as witches, lest their opinions be disregarded by Godric, Salazar, and the other few wizards they had invited to teach at the newly created school. Helga simply went along with it, presenting herself as passive and deferential.

She showed them exactly what they expected to see, and they accepted it readily.

Of course, Helga was utterly unconcerned with what any of them thought, as long as they left her alone. Let them bicker. The longer they remained focused on each other, the less likely they were to realize what was really happening.

She made her way swiftly through the trees. It was only a few minutes’ walk into the forest, but even as close as it was she had no wish to dawdle. She heard a distant howl and quickened her pace. She had little doubt of her ability to handle most of the inhabitants of the forest; she simply didn’t wish to be bothered.

She reached a small clearing and tapped her wand against one of the trees lining the clearing and muttered a short incantation. In an instant, a moderate sized cottage appeared. She was confident that no one would ever find the cottage--it was only visible and tangible upon the recitation of a specific phrase of her own devising, and she’d certainly given no one any reason to suspect her.

She entered the cottage and was immediately greeted by the smell of blood, urine, and feces, and the sound of a sobbing infant. She held her wand up and walked toward the far corner of the one-room building. “Lumos,” she said.

In the eerie blue light she could make out three--no, four human forms. She smiled.

“I see you’ve had your baby at last, Marie,” she said. She quickly lit the torches that lined the walls and looked again. Marie, a former castle servant, huddled on one side of the barred-off corner, a naked, screaming infant in her arms. Two younger boys--neither older than fourteen--cowered on the other side of the bars, regarding both Marie and Helga with trepidation. A thin layer of straw covered the floor inside the cage, and a roll of parchments with a quill sticking out one end and a bottle of ink lay outside the cage, just out of reach of the captives.

Marie let out a choked sob, but said nothing. Helga looked down to the two large empty bowls in the corner of the cage closest to her.

“I wasn’t able to come this past week with all the confusion over the missing students,” Helga said, almost apologetically. She waved her wand, and one bowl filled with water while the other filled with chunks of bread. “There. You must be hungry.”

She watched for a moment as both servant and students converged on the two bowls, then she turned toward the room’s innocuous centerpiece.

There were no inside walls or furniture in the cottage. Only the caged-off corner served as a barrier, and the only other item stood in the center: a simple stone archway. A thin veil hung from the top of the archway. Helga stood in front of the veil for a moment, tapping her wand thoughtfully against her chin.

“When was your baby born, Marie?” Helga asked.

“Only t-two days ago, m-my lady,” Marie said. “He is still weak...”

“Two days? That should do,” Helga said briskly.

She levitated the archway and repositioned it so that it stood directly in front of the cage door, then pointed her wand at the crying infant. “Accio incorporatus,” she said.

Marie gasped and tried to hold the child closer, but her arms went straight through him. The child floated away from Marie, and Helga used her wand to direct the child’s path away from the archway directly through the bars. Marie threw her body against her prison, screaming incoherently, as Helga reached out and gathered the child, who was once again corporeal, into her arms. She kicked a pile of parchments and an ink bottle through the bottom of the bars and the older boy gathered them quickly.

“Lady Helga, please! Please let him be!” Marie sobbed.

The two boys edged even further away from Marie, his wide eyes traveling uncertainly between Marie and the archway.

“Marie, if you do not calm yourself I shall be forced to restrain you,” Helga said.

Marie staggered to the wall and collapsed against it, wrapping her arms around her knees and whimpering softly. Helga nodded.

“Very good, Marie,” Helga said soothingly. “Now, would you like to come out here with your baby? I am certain that you would like to stretch a bit after giving birth in such close quarters.”

Marie stopped sniffling and looked up hopefully. She nodded.

Helga waved her wand at the lock and the cage door popped open. Marie hesitantly stepped out, slowly walking toward the open door.

Helga held the baby out in front of her, just behind the two columns of the archway. Marie froze, and turned to look back at the older boy.

The older boy was trembling all over, his eyes fixed on Marie.

“M-my lady?” Marie said.

“Just step through here, Marie. You’re only a few steps from your baby,” Helga said.

“W-why?” Marie looked back again, but the boy’s eyes were now cast downward. He still trembled.

“Why what, Marie?” Helga said, careful not to raise her voice. Frightening the servant would make this more difficult, and she had no wish to use force if unnecessary. “You do want to have your baby back, don’t you?”

Marie chewed her lip and took a step backwards. Helga sighed.

“Very well,” she said. “I shall begin the next phase of this experiment then. I’ve no need of you; I merely thought your presence would calm the baby.”

She conjured a small table and laid the baby on it. The baby was still crying, and he squirmed restlessly on the hard surface. Only a torn shred of Marie’s dress covered him, and it was clearly filthy. Helga was unconcerned with the child’s comfort, though.

“After reviewing my previous work, I believe I have found what I need to continue,” Helga said. Her voice took on a more stern quality now that she was no longer trying to cajole the servant into voluntarily doing what she wanted. She drew a short silver dagger and a glass vial from the folds of her robes and watched as Marie’s eyes widened in alarm. “The only thing I need is the blood of a new child, which you have so generously given me.”

“No!” Marie screamed. She made a wild leap through the open cage door toward Helga and the baby.

The veil fluttered, and Marie was gone.