Tale of a Time Long Gone

A/N: Yes, I have returned to normal updating schedule! Which means, I will submit a chapter once a week, either on Friday or on Saturday, and then its just a matter of time 'til it appear in a computer near you! ;)

In this chapter: Our four heroes are stuck together in Rosalind's house, get to know each other and, in some cases, barely avoid killing one another...

Enjoy!

Chapter 4 - The Long Winter

"Rowena Ravenclaw is credited to many of the protections surrounding the Castle of Hogwarts. One of her chief contributions is what came to be known as the Anti-Apparition Field around the castle.

"What makes this Field so rare and unique? First of all, it is one of the largest and strongest Fields ever to be erected.

"Secondly, it is the oldest Field that ever existed in the Wizarding World and has held for over a thousand years.

"The Field was cast by Rowena herself, though she was aided by the other three Founders. She was the only one of the four who knew exactly how that Field was operating.

"Where had Rowena Ravenclaw come across the magic of the Anti-Apparition Field? The answer to that is yet further into the past. Rowena's own mother, Rosalind Ravenclaw, was one of the first to master Apparition and taught her daughter accordingly. Back at the time, Apparition was one of the most difficult magic accomplishments to manage and only a rare few could do it. Together with Rowena, Rosalind developed an easier method of Apparating, which is used to this day by many of the Wizarding World.

"Armed with her first-hand knowledge of the process of Apparition, Rowena Ravenclaw studied every single aspect of it and after a long and tedious time of research, she managed to perfect a spell that would erect a permanent Field to stop people from Apparating inside its borders.

"This was one of the very first accomplishments which showed the Council of Warlocks exactly whom they were facing..."

- Hogwarts, A History; Author unknown

Rosalind Ravenclaw woke up the morning after the arrival of the two men feeling old and bitter.

You are barely halfway through your fifth decade, she chided herself, pushing the covers off her. Just think what Ryan would have said were you to tell him that.

This made her feel instantly better. She never told Rowena that, but she no longer felt empty when thinking of her lost husband. She had finally managed to find calm in the middle of her pain.

She had loved Ryan very much. They had been married for nineteen years and had known each other for far longer than that before he died, and his death had shattered her world to pieces. Another thing she would never tell her daughter was just how much she had helped her during the first few months after they had managed to get hold of his burnt remains and give him a proper burial.

She could still remember his face clearly. As she told Godric and Salazar the night before, he was tall and gangly, and when you tried putting him in finery he seemed so ungainly. His long hair was auburn - just like Rowena's - but in recent years the stress of his less-than-self-imposed exile had started to show and it had silver streaks shooting through it.

Oh, how she had loved pushing her hand through those long locks!

And his eyes... those endearing pale-blue eyes, showing what he felt immediately. He could always control his face - but his eyes betrayed him every time.

She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. She wished she had taken that portrait that hung on the wall of his room when they had to flee from the wrath of the Council - the portrait in which the artist had drawn Ryan in his full battle-gear. Only when he had been in his armour and holding his weapons had Ryan ever looked at home.

But he said the portrait would weigh them down - and anyway, what would she do with it? It was just another portrait.

And now, all these years ahead of that day, she hated herself for listening to him. She had nothing to remember him by apart of the sword and the shield. The armour he had hidden somewhere, refusing to tell her where.

He wanted to hide it all from Rowena. He wanted her to grow up happy and unaware of his past life.

But Ryan could not stop Rosalind from telling Rowena of her previous life. It was true that she loved Ryan, but not even for love would she give up her main interest in life. Charms. Rosalind Ravenclaw was one of the best Charmers still alive. She could do practically everything with a wand. From knitting socks to cooking banquets - there was nothing she could not do.

She was a very strong witch, but the Council of Warlocks refused to acknowledged that and aid her various researches. It was common knowledge that witches could not be stronger than wizards, after all.

Nothing they said, however, could contradict the fact that she was one of the very few who could transport themselves from one place to another in mere seconds. It was a dangerous sort of spell. It could go wrong in so many places.

It was Rosalind's mission in life to turn this method of travel into something most - if not all - of the magic community could do. And it was proving to be harder than she had ever imagined.

She fondly remembered a day, back when Rowena was a small child, when Ryan was out in the garden, trying to convince his vegetable patch that actually producing vegetables was a good idea, and Rowena was sitting with a tome almost as big as her propped against a vase, reading. She had decided it was time to get back to work. She knew that before Rowena was born she was very close to finding the way, but had abandoned her works in favour of taking care of her daughter.

She struggled with it day by day. Ryan knew nothing of it, since he was always outside, trying to make their lives a bit better, growing his garden, fixing the house or feeding Roland, his old warhorse.

After a year of struggling, she felt like giving up, guessing that she had lost the touch during her long break.

It was then that Rowena walked into the room, took a glance at her sketches and asked "Mother, isn't it possible that if you change the pronunciation of this word the magic will flow better and there will be less resistance of physical substance?"

Rowena had been seven back then. That day she had begun her magical education.

And so, for the past thirteen years, Rowena had been assisting her in her research. They had almost managed it. The year before they had actually succeeded in making Helga travel to a location almost a quarter of a mile off in a blink of an eye. Up until then Helga had never managed the spell. It was very encouraging, but still it needed perfecting.

Shaking herself from her reminiscing, Rosalind pulled on her clothes. It was very cold. The winter was going to be longer than usual. She could feel it in her bones. Shivering, she picked up her winter cloak and wrapped it snugly around her thin body. She twisted her hair into a tight knot, covered it with a simple net made of copper and tucked a few stray locks of hair back in.

Feeling like the dignified matron she was supposed to be, Rosalind Ravenclaw walked out of her bedroom and marched purposefully into the house's main room.

Upon entering the room, she noticed a few things.

Someone had stirred the fire back to life, using the limited supply of wood they kept inside (The girls will have to go and fetch some more when they get up, she thought). The fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace, throwing every now and then a spark on the already singed, threadbare hearthrug.

The strangers' clothes were spread on two chairs in front of the fire, drying. She avoided drying clothes by magic if she could - it always made them stiff and unpleasant to the touch for a long while after.

The men were no longer asleep. And for that matter, only one of them was to be seen. Salazar Slytherin was sitting calmly at the scrubbed dinning table and reading a book from Rosalind's small library. She had acquired many of those books with great cost. She had even filched a few from her own father's library.

Salazar did not seem to notice her presence. He was engrossed in a thick book bound with blue velvet. She could recognize it without even looking at the title. The Legacy of the Phoenix. It was a book that many would have given their right arms so they could take a mere glimpse at it. There were only three copies ever made - two of them were in Rosalind's possession - Though she did not know where one was.

It was a book that told the history of the Order of the Knight of the Phoenix. All four hundred thirty six years of it. From the day Merlin had initiated the first Knight before his disappearance into the pages of history and to the day when Ryan Raven Lord had called for the disbanding of the Order.

It was written by Ryan himself, who had meticulously made two more copies of his book after he had finished writing it in exile. One copy he sent to Lord Ambrosius, who, thinking he had the only copy, hid it and said that whoever tried reading it would be sentenced to death.

The second copy he kept in the library - the one Salazar was now reading - but had Rosalind charm it so that Rowena would never be able to read it.

The last copy, the original one, he hid together with his armour, and Rosalind had the feeling that he was hoping that one day Rowena would find them both and realize what kind of man her father really was.

She cleared her throat lightly, making Salazar jump. She smiled. "Sorry for startling you, my lord. Good morning. Would you like a spot of breakfast?"

He nodded, getting up and putting the book back in place.

"It frustrates Rowena to no end that she can't read that book," she answered his unasked question, turning to her pantry and taking out various commodities she needed for making breakfast.

"Yes, I was wondering just that," he said, "seeing as you told us last night Raven Lord did not want her to know."

"I charmed the book at his request. Rowena can't read this book - nor can Helga, for that matter."

"I thought the only copy in existence is in Ambrosius' clutches. May I help you with something?"

She snorted while mixing flour, water and spices in a big wooden bowl. "Ryan had many faults, but stupidity was not one of them, Lord Slytherin. He sent Ambrosius the book from our exile just to tweak his nose - just so he would know that Ryan was not completely out of the picture - here, you can cut the meat. Make the slices nice and thin, otherwise Helga will not eat it -" She handed him a lump of salted venison and a sharp knife. "-In any case, Ryan made three copies - I don't know what happened to one, but I'm in possession of this one. You may read it - but if you dare tell Rowena anything about that - I'll hex your ears off."

She knew that even with her kitchen apron and a bowl of dough she could look threatening. She had been perfecting it for years to prevent Rowena from stealing cookies before dinner was served.

Salazar seemed to catch that as well and did not continue that specific discussion, cutting the salted meat into the thinnest slices he could.

"Where is your friend?" she asked suddenly. "I haven't seen him when I came here."

"Godric?" he said, "He usually likes to get up early and look in on his horse. He's very attached to Griffith. His father gave him that palomino when he was five - just before Gawain was murdered. I think that animal is more than half magical - living that long and still looking as young as he does. He's twenty years old!"

Rosalind felt a wave of pity washing over her. "I knew Gawain very well," she said softly. "And your father as well - though for different reasons.

"Gawain was Ryan's best friend - even though Gawain was seven years older than him. They were almost inseparable back in the days when Gawain was Ryan's Second-in-Command. He used to bring Ceridwen and Godric over for dinner many a time when they were not off on missions for the Order.

"And your parents... I knew Searlas mainly because your mother, Seraphine, and I were such good friends - she being Lord Fenwick's daughter and I being the only FitzPatrick girl - we were bound to become friends. When she died, however, Searlas needed someone to cheer him up, so sometimes he came together with Gawain and brought you and Dahlia along - though you were probably too young to remember. He stopped bringing you when Ceridwen started tutoring Godric, Dahlia and you in magic," she sighed. "Ryan formed a really close friendship with the two of them. I thought he would die as well when news of their deaths reached us."

In the silence that spread after she spoke, a sound of feet rushing from the back of the house was heard and into the room burst a wide-awake Helga.

"Good morning!" she said brightly, arranging her half-open dressing gown into a more respectable position with a slight blush when she saw Salazar. Rosalind assumed that her protégé had simply forgotten they had guests.

"Good morning, Helga," she said with a smile. "Is Rowena awake as yet?"

Helga frowned. "I thought she was already up and about. Didn't you send her to collect a bit of wood?"

Rosalind was about to say something when the door to the house slammed open and inside stormed an angry Rowena.

"For Merlin's sake, girl!" Rosalind said, appalled at her daughter's scanty attire. "Go and dress yourself appropriately! We have men in the house!"

Rowena did not even spare her another glance before disappearing in the direction of her bedroom.

"I'm terribly sorry for my daughter's behaviour, Lord Slytherin. I cannot imagine what had gotten into her!"

"I'm afraid I am somewhat to blame, Madam," a new voice said from the doorway.

Godric entered with his arms full of firewood. He put his load not far from the fireplace and went to shut the door close.

Rosalind waited for an explanation, her eyes frosty. If he had done something to my Rowena...

Godric settled himself in a chair next to the table and said "I stumbled upon her when I went to have a look on my horse - she was sitting on a heap of hay, laughing. She just looked so funny that I started laughing as well. I think she took offense."

Rosalind released a breath she was not aware of holding. And here I was, expecting the worse, she scolded herself for thinking so low of her guest.

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Breakfast was a rather simple affair - a fresh loaf of bread, sliced salted venison with mustard sauce, homemade raspberry jam and a few winter vegetables - miserably small, but edible.

When they were all done (Rosalind managed to make Rowena act civilized towards Godric and vice versa by simply telling them that the first to say something snide to the other would spend the night in the stable), Rosalind decided it was time to tell the men something that they were unaware of, being strangers to the Glen.

"Are you aware of the fact that you will be spending the entire winter here?" she asked.

"What?" Godric asked, surprised.

"You have been outside, have you not?"

"Yes. Only snow - we can-"

"No," she cut him short. "You cannot. The snow is about ten feet deep. The only reason the house is not snowed in is the magic defences which Rowena erected here a few years back to replace the old ones Ryan and I put up. Everywhere else is covered by feet of snow."

"Then there's no problem-"

"You did not let me finish. When you get closer to the mouth of the Glen, however, the snow becomes treacherous and you are more than likely to sink seven feet down and die. Even magic will not help you once you are down. You are stuck here - whether you like it or not."

Salazar and Godric exchanged worried glances. The women were silent and therefore the sudden hissing noise was clearly heard.

"What was that?!" Helga demanded in fright.

"You should tell them," Godric said to Salazar.

"But-" Salazar protested.

"They'll find out sooner or later. They had better learn it from you."

Salazar sighed. Then, to Rosalind surprise, he hissed something to the general direction of his wrist. When the hissing was over, a small, scaled head appeared tentatively from inside the cuff of his borrowed tunic. A tiny forked tongue darted out of the creature's mouth, tasting the air.

"Snake!" Helga shrieked.

"Her name is Maureen," Salazar said in an insulted tone.

"You are a Parselmouth," Rowena said softly.

He nodded in appreciation. "Maureen is my friend and constant companion. She just said that Madam Ravenclaw is right and that Godric and I will have to stay here until the winter snows give in."

"Very well," Rosalind said briskly. "Then we need to reassign the house chores."

She felt like smirking when she saw the panicky look shared by the two men.

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The winter was just as long as Rosalind expected it to be. It seemed to go faster because they all had their own chores to do.

They would start the morning with Rosalind making breakfast. She usually got up long before them all, and by the time they all picked themselves out of their beds (or improvised mattresses in Godric and Salazar's case) she already had food on the table.

Then Godric and Salazar were shooed out of the house - a hard feat to accomplish as it was freezing cold outside and they were reluctant to leave the warm interior - and were sent to get a fresh pile of firewood for the day. Rowena and Helga would go to the stable. Helga to milk the old goat (Salazar and Godric made faces when first they tasted cheese made of goat-milk, but got used to it after a few weeks' time) who shared the stable with the two horses, Griffith and Cian, and Rowena to take care of the horses and replenish their food stocks.

Rosalind wondered where her daughter got the oats and hay, since they did not keep much - just enough for the goat. She suspected Rowena traveled to Culhwch every now and then - by what ways, she had no idea - and filched enough food to last the horses and the goat for a week.

She never asked since the time when Rowena told her rather grimly "Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies."

After they had all done their morning chores, Rosalind settled them down to dry the cleaned dishes and put them all to place. It was a rare event if Godric and Rowena did not fight during the half hour they spent in the kitchen every day.

It usually started because of Godric.

For example, there was a time when he dropped a very valuable crystal fruit bowl Rosalind had received from one of her brothers as a wedding gift. Rowena, who needed only the mildest excuse to explode, started berating him for being such a clumsy oaf and destroying such an important thing of her mother's and that it was beyond repair.

Rosalind merely pointed her wand at the bits of crystal and muttered "Reparo!" putting it all back together.

Then there was the time when he had accidentally-on-purpose stepped on her foot and bruised her pale skin. She let out such a blood-curdling scream that Rosalind was sure the Muggles ten miles away could hear her.

Godric sulked around the house all day after that, sporting a pair of hairy ears.

After their morning chores, either Godric or Salazar would take hold of The Legacy of the Phoenix and read it, while the other one practiced magic or sword movements in the corner of the main room. Whenever Godric was in possession of the book, Rowena would send dirty glances in his direction and mutter profanities under her breath. She thought her mother could not hear her, but Rosalind was just tired of threatening her with washing her mouth with soap.

When the men read and practiced, Rowena and Rosalind would continue their Travel by Magic research, asking for Helga's aid every now and then when they wanted to check whether she could do this spell or that gesture.

Helga herself would study from the magic tomes. She never told Rosalind what exactly she was doing, but Rowena seemed to know, and that was good enough for the older woman.

They ate a late midday meal; afterwards they would lounge for a while, read or play chess. The men would disappear every now and then and do whatever it was they did - she never bothered to pry.

It was during the evening that the worst Godric versus Rowena fights took place, when they actually had to spend time with each other that did not consist of each of them doing their separate things.

"-I swear to you, Gryffindor! If you don't stop - I'll hex your face from here to Rome! I'll wrap your intestines around a stake and leave you alive for as long as I can!"

That was the latest Rowena Threat. It was given in retaliation to a really nasty joke Godric played on her. He turned her Queen into a slug, and when she attempted prodding her when the small chess piece refused to move, the sluggish Queen stuck to her hand and would not let go.

"It was just a harmless joke! Why are you taking things so bloody heavily?! You are the worst prude I have ever met!"

Ignoring the shouting match as best he could, Salazar said "No offense to your hospitality, Madam Ravenclaw, but I'm hoping that the snow will melt soon."

"Quite understandable, my lord. But you'll be happy to know that I think that by next Thursday you will be able to leave the Glen."

Godric stopped in mid-retaliation. "Finally! I can't wait to get out of this - this thing's vicinity!"

Salazar rolled his eyes, knowing full well that this declaration was just asking for a sharp retort from Rowena. He hurriedly cut her off. "Then it is time to discuss our mission again, Madam Ravenclaw."

"Mission?" Rosalind asked, feeling a sinking emotion in the pit of her stomach. She had been avoiding this specific discussion for the past two months.

"We still need to bring you to face Lord Ambrosius and the Council."