Hearts and Hourglasses

Reminder: Godric's alias is Godfrey Gloucester. Salazar's is Sextus Scaevola. Rowena's is Rachel Regius. Helga's is Hannah Hawthorn. Rowena cast a spell so that everyone who hears them will hear them referring to each other by their aliases, but to their own ears, they hear each other's real names. It's a complicated spell.

To Previous Chapter Reviewers: Aurora61, AVK, Baal extremely evil, Kirstin & Ryuuchan The Little Dragon. --- Thank you very much. ^__^ (Yes, I know this looks like a frog.) But I do have reasons to smile, because I got out Chapter 34, and your reviews helped a lot. You can see from the number of views of that thread in the story forum how I often I reread your feedback.

Hearts and Hourglasses
Chapter 34: Hufflepuff
Includes Interlude: The Black Sun

"I am going after them."

The reactions from the wizards varied. Avery blinked at Narcissa, looking very dubious while Nott took a step back away from them. Macnair seemed worried while Pettigrew was amused. Crabbe and Goyle acted as though Narcissa hadn't said anything.

Helga looked away from the dolmen to consider the other witch carefully while Rowena didn't turn her eyes from the stone monolith. It had been nearly a day since Godric went into the dolmen after Draco who had gone after Salazar. None of them had returned.

"Are you descended from one of the Thirteen?" Helga asked Narcissa curiously, and the question drew Rowena's attention. The dolmen reminded Rowena of the Pentagram in Wvelte. It was choosy on which people to deliver to Hierthent. When the others hadn't come back after several hours, the rest of the wizards had tried to go after them.

Nothing happened when they walked into the dolmen. Perhaps blood was the answer. Rowena remembered her father once extolling the virtues of the security system in Hierthent.

The castle drinks blood.

... What do you mean, father?

Blood, Rowena, blood. Every time a wizard or witch goes through the entry dolmen, it takes a little of their blood. The Thirteen, themselves, are connected to Hierthent through their blood.

It is alive, Rowena.

Alive... Rowena looked back to the dolmen. Over it, farther away, Hierthent revolved into view. It still flickered, sharpening and disappearing as though it was trapped between this world and another. Salazar, Godric, Draco and Lucius Malfoy were over there.

Salazar was once of the Thirteen, thought Rowena. Godric had visited Hierthent, and Draco and Lucius were descended from Cassius Ilias who was a member of the Dark coalition. Hierthent had samples of all their blood.

Why will it not accept me then? Rowena questioned. Her father, Regius Ravenclaw, had once visited Hierthent. Surely, it must know Ravenclaw blood.

"I am of the Ilias bloodline," she heard Narcissa say.

* * * * *

Her hands were empty. Narcissa closed them reflexively. Avery had held her right hand while Helga the other. They had hoped the dolmen would be fooled into accepting them as well, but it hadn't.

I am alone. She pushed the worrisome thought away and looked around her. She was in what appeared to be an apothecary. There were herbs everywhere, stacked in neat bundles on shelves or hanging in bushels from the ceiling. A shimmer on a table set against a wall caught her attention. It was made by a unicorn horn or what was left of it. There was small pile of shiny dust, unicorn horn powder no doubt.

Narcissa spotted a door beside the table and quickly walked towards it.

* * * * *

"She's quite a beauty," commented Lyle.

"Indeed," agreed Turin.

Trenzel resisted the urge to shake his head at them and instead kept all his attention on the mirror, which was showing a fair-haired witch leaving the apothecary. They were in the Mirror Room, which, as its name suggested, was made entirely of mirrors. The room was in the shape of a hexagon; its six walls dividing into smaller six-sided polygons, and each of these reflective facets showed a different area of the castle.

"Who do you think she is?" Queried Mistel.

"Whoever she is," answered Kardon, "she must be a member of the Ilias family. Surely she is not related to Salazar."

There was a sigh from Vivian before she said skeptically, "Are you sure the dolmen is set to only accept Salazar's and Cassius' bloodlines?

"Yes," Mistel and Kardon said simultaneously.

"Then why did it allow Godric in?"

"Because he has Salazar's blood in him."

They all turned to see Yves float into the Mirror room.

"Explain, Yves," Trenzel requested. She shrugged, saying that Salazar and Gryffindor must have performed a Blood Compact.

Trenzel frowned at this; concerned that Salazar would perform such a dangerous ritual. A Blood Compact required the merging of the participants' bloodlines. What reason would he have had to do so... unless he wanted Gryffindor to have access to Hierthent.

Ever since Ilias had brought Hierthent to this space for safekeeping nearly a month and a half ago, they had set the dolmen to allow only Cassius or any of the Ilias bloodline in. They didn't want others to have access to Hierthent. They didn't want to have to deal with their enemies, Light wizards, looters after Hierthent's treasures and all that riffraff. But as the days passed, no one had appeared, and they and the castle were trapped unless a living member of the Thirteen commanded Hierthent to return to its proper place. They had been about to let the dolmen have a wider selection when Salazar appeared.

They had been keeping careful watch for Salazar while waiting for Cassius or any Ilias brethren. Regardless of the fact that he had tried his utmost to destroy them, Salazar would surely attempt to return to Hierthent. There were uncountable riches in this castle as well as all the knowledge that had been gathered and stored in it since its founding. Most of the members had voted for the dolmen to allow Salazar in for the opportunity to trap the one who had betrayed them.

When Salazar had indeed come back, they assumed he had come to take the castle. But now there was this thousand-year nonsense.

* * * * *

The slender gold band lay innocuously in her hand. It was delicate. Intricate patterns had been carved into it, and Lucius once told her that it and its mate were the most expensive pieces of jewelry he had ever paid for.

Narcissa had been dubious of its worth. It didn't even have any precious stones set into it. She had seen much more beautiful rings. Surely, he didn't expect her to be impressed by it. It was a simple wedding band.

His eyes twinkling, Lucius leaned forward and whispered into her ear why it so valuable.

It will never let itself be lost nor be separated from you.

And you can use it to find me.

Will it work now? Narcissa wondered, hopeful. It hadn't worked when she tried it before outside of Hierthent. It was actually a Portkey keyed to Lucius' ring.

"Take me to him," she murmured to it. She breathed in sharply when it began to glow, but after a few moments, it dimmed and she was still standing in one of Hierthent's many passageways.

With a soft sigh edged in desperation, she closed her fingers over the useless ring. Wherever her husband was, he must be in a place, which was sealed against transportation magic, perfectly sealed since even Portkeys wouldn't work. Even Hogwarts didn't have such tight security.

Suddenly, the ring pressed against her clenched fingers, and startled, she opened her hand instinctively. Her ring, glowing again, floated up until it was level with her eyes. Its soft yellow light flickered for an instant as if winking at her. Then, it began moving. It passed over her shoulder, and Narcissa quickly turned to see it pause at a corner of a hallway intersecting the one she was in.

Again, the ring winked at her before flying off into the other hallway with Narcissa following after it. Just as she left, Lady Aliana appeared in the spot where she had been standing.

* * * * *

"Where are we?" Lucius said for what seemed like the dozenth time. He was pacing the length of their cell restlessly, going to and from one end to the other again and again. He wasn't expecting anyone to answer his question.

Draco, seated on the floor, turned his eyes from his agitated father to Lord Slytherin, was who seated beside him. He was resting against the wall with his eyes closed. He looked like he was sleeping, but Draco wasn't certain.

The boy didn't know how long they had been kept in this cell. When he had woken up, he had found himself, his father and Lord Slytherin in this room, which didn't have a door. Only four walls surrounded them. There were no windows, no bars, just marble hemming them in.

Gryffindor wasn't with them, and their wands were gone.

* * * * *

"They are telling the truth," Gilson informed Trenzel soberly. "It has been a thousand years."

A soft cry interrupted their conversation, and both wizards glanced to Gryffindor who was still strapped into one of the tables in Gilson's workroom.

The Light wizard was feverish, sweating after the strain of having his memories pulled out of his mind by force. He had foolishly resisted.

"Will he recover?" Trenzel asked absent-mindedly while wondering at Salazar's magic skill. This Doppelganger spell he had devised to give physical form to their memories was outstanding, and the scholar in him hoped he would have the opportunity to examine the Crysalis which was the receptacle of these memories.

He barely heard Gilson's answer as he was too intrigued and impressed by the power of this Crysalis. It was able to disrupt Hierthent's energies. As soon as the memory Salazar had been transported into the castle, his link to the Crysalis in the other world had also in essence anchored Hierthent, though not completely. The castle was now trapped in between planes of existence. This Crysalis was also the reason why Salazar had performed a Blood Compact with Gryffindor. Something about Salazar wanting to reassure Gryffindor of his sincerity.

"I have examined what has been pulled from Gryffindor's mind," Gilson was saying. "There is a jump in his memories. He has no recollection of what had happened after he, Salazar and the others had placed their memories into... his hat."

Gilson gestured at the memory globe holding the extractions from Gryffindor's head. As Trenzel looked towards it, he saw the image of a boy with black untidy hair with a pair of what appeared to be circles of glass over his eyes. He started slightly when the boy's green eyes stared at him. For a moment, he thought they were Salazar's eyes.

Trenzel gave himself a mental shake as the image of the boy broke up and separated into wriggling globules and another of Gryffindor's memories coalesced and solidified from the colorful mass swirling inside the memory container.

"Where are Salazar's memories?" He asked Gilson. They had been extracted earlier. He waited as the other wizard went into another room to retrieve Salazar's memory globe. Trenzel wanted to see this Voldemort Gilson had mentioned to him.

* * * * *

What in the world... Narcissa stared at the bare wall to which her ring had led her to. It was a dead end.

Disquieted, she returned the still glowing ring to her finger before taking out her wand. Perhaps this wall was a secret entrance.

"Esshusa!" Nothing happened when she cast the revealing spell on it. Narcissa resisted the urge to stamp her feet in frustration and continued staring at a single point on the wall. A few moments later, she started to feel foolish.

Where are you, Lucius? Draco? She placed her hand against the wall, her fingers curling it into a fist, and she almost started banging on the wall.

They must be on the other side, she thought, starting to feel frantic, and she immediately took a deep breath to calm herself in order to think things through more carefully.

... Maybe I can destroy the wall.

* * * * *

The wall in front of them suddenly blew apart. Draco automatically ducked, covering his head with his arms as pieces of marble and debris rained down on him.

"Lucius!" He looked up to see her mother climb through an impressive-sized hole in the wall.

"Naris?" Lucius' mouth was hanging open in shock. There were bits of marble in his hair and marble dust coating his robes.

Draco dropped his head back into his arms when his parents hugged and kissed.

However, a short while later, Lucius was peeved at his wife.

"You shouldn't have come after us!" He yelled at Narcissa, who only gave him an amused look.

"Father, she is already here," Draco said pointedly as he helped Lord Slytherin to his feet. He ignored his father's glare at him and instead asked Lord Slytherin if he was all right.

"I'm fine, Draco," he answered softly, opening his eyes, and Draco was disturbed that he wasn't looking in his direction. Lord Slytherin was still blind. Draco felt bothered when Lucius suddenly demanded, "Slytherin, how do we get off Hierthent?"

Lord Slytherin lifted his hand and placed it on Draco's shoulder. The boy looked up at him as the hand tightened convulsively.

"We can't leave yet," rasped Lord Slytherin. "We have to find Godfrey."

Lucius frowned at him. "Just leave him."

Again, his hand clenched and after a while, he murmured, "No, I can't. I can't leave Godfrey." He sounded helpless to Draco.

Lucius was irritated, but before he could say anything else, Narcissa asked, "Do you have any idea where he is?" Lucius looked ready to protest, but he fell silent when his wife shook her head slightly at her. Draco felt Lord Slytherin relax ever so slightly.

"May I borrow your wand, Narcissa?" He asked Draco's mother.

* * * * *

His eyes felt like they were burning, but Draco ignored the pain stoutly. He was walking barely a step ahead in front of Lord Slytherin who kept a hold on the boy's shoulder. Ever so often, Draco would feel his fingers tremble.

"Go right here," the blind wizard directed, and Draco turned obediently. Just a few paces behind, his parents followed as Lord Slytherin as navigated their way through Hierthent's corridors.

The marble hallways were virtually identical to Draco's eyes. He was forcibly reminded of when he was still new at Hogwarts. The dungeons underneath the school were a labyrinth of passages and rooms, and it took quite a while before he knew them well enough to feel confident and not lost while traversing them.

Draco wondered if Hierthent's white-walled hallways had influenced the design of Hogwarts dungeons or even the school's entire corridor system. There was a logical reason why the passages were made to be confusing. It would be harder for enemies to find their way through them.

"Go through there." With his free hand, Lord Slytherin pointed at a large high gold and ivory gilded archway. Light shown brightly from it, eclipsing the well-lit shiny surfaces of the passageway walls, ceiling and floor. Draco squinted against the glare as they went under the arch.

They emerged into what appeared to be the entrance hall of Hierthent.

"Karbin!" Draco turned just as Lord Slytherin conjured something with Narcissa's wand. It was a ferret, and Draco, unable to help himself, flushed when he saw the creature. It scampered up to perch on the wizard's shoulder as Lord Slytherin waved the wand again. The irritating pain behind Draco's eyes dissipated, and the ferret made a tiny squeak when the vision link spell was transferred to it instead.

"I should have thought of this sooner," muttered Lord Slytherin, but he turned uncomfortable and dizzy when the ferret jumped down to the floor and scampered off, shaking its tiny head furiously.

Draco supported Lord Slytherin as he leaned against the boy heavily. With a soft curse, he straightened and ended the spell, and a moment later, the ferret disappeared as well.

"You can't use that spell on just any animal, Salazar," someone said loudly, and Draco looked towards the direction of the voice to see one of the twin ghosts floating down towards them.

"True. True." His brother emerged from the wall, and someone grabbed Draco by his shoulders and dragged him back. He bumped against his father who pushed Draco to Narcissa to hold. Draco felt absolutely embarrassed as Lucius stepped protectively in front of his family.

"Where's Godfrey?" Lord Slytherin demanded, and the twins gave him identical puzzled looks.

One said, "You mean Godric-"

"-do you not?" finished the other.

Lord Slytherin paused, looking frustrated. "Never mind," he said tersely. "Where is he?"

He paled when they simultaneously said, "Gilson has him."

"Turin, Lyle, enough," said a reproving ghost as another ghost appeared. "The two of you are tormenting Salazar needlessly." Draco recognized him as the one who had found him.

"We are just having fun, Trenzel," said Turin or Lyle with a shrug. "Yes," said the other with a nod, "we're just being hospitable."

"He did ask where Gryffindor is."

"In fact-"

"-we'll take Salazar to him."

Suddenly, they rushed towards Lord Slytherin, grabbed the hapless wizard by the armpits and flew passed Draco and his parents, taking their prisoner back the way they came.

"Turin, Lyle!" Trenzel called after them angrily. Draco tried to go after them, but his mother held on tightly, preventing him.

* * * * *

"Let me go!" Draco struggled to get away from his parents who kept iron grips on his shoulders.

Salazar always did have a way with children, thought Trenzel in the back of his mind as he looked worriedly in the direction the twins had taken his former student.

Why are you still concerned for Salazar? He betrayed you. Imaginary heaviness weighed down on his non-corporeal shoulders. He murdered you. He doesn't deserve any kindness from you.

... I can't help it, he said to himself while thinking what an insufficient reason that was. Can't help it... How weak and uncertain he was when it came to Salazar.

He slowly withdrew from his self-reflection when Lucius demanded that they be released. He reprimanded his son to be quiet when the boy, protesting, said they couldn't leave Lord Slytherin behind.

"What are you going to do with us?" The witch was calmer, clearer-headed. Trenzel couldn't help but approve of her. Narcissa was her name, wasn't it? She must have Ilias blood in her as well. Tall, slender with hair like sunshine. She greatly resembled Julia when she was younger.

A smile formed on Trenzel's face without him realizing it. He saw Julia in her, and his tone was gentle as he reassured her that no harm would come to her and her family.

* * * * *

Was it his imagination or was the ghost staring at Narcissa a bit too intently? His face darkening, Lucius stepped in front of his wife, blocking Trenzel's line of sight. The ghost frowned at him as Narcissa gave a surprised and questioning look at her husband while still keeping a firm hold on Draco, who wasn't paying attention to them.

"Let us go," said Lucius bitingly as he glared at the ghost floating in front of them. He wished Narcissa hadn't given her wand to Slytherin.

For several increasingly tense moments, they just stared at each other unblinkingly. Then, much to Lucius' surprise, the ghost sighed softly and floated towards another archway. He silently gestured at them to follow him. They did so after much hesitation.

* * * * *

"Her name is Julia," Trenzel answered in a low tone to Narcissa, who nodded at him before turning her attention back to the frail witch sleeping in the large circle bed in the center of the room.

Lucius, now holding on to Draco, looked around the room Trenzel had led them to. It was round, light and airy with mismatched furniture scattered throughout it. Oddly enough, it reminded him of his grandmother's room.

A soft trill drew her attention back to the bed where Narcissa had seated herself beside Julia. On a silver bird stand beside the bed, a phoenix perched, singing what sounded like a lullaby to Lucius.

As the music washed over him, the tight knot of fear and nervousness inside his chest began to untie itself, comforting Lucius who had been on edge ever since he discovered Draco had gone off into Hierthent by himself.

He felt his son relax as well as the phoenix continued its sweet beautiful song. He also began to feel sleepy and was puzzled when Trenzel went to the nightstand and lifted a vase of yellow roses from it. He watched the ghost warily as he went out of the room, taking the flowers with him.

"What is wrong with those flowers?" he asked Trenzel suspiciously when the latter returned without the roses.

He received a cryptic answer. "There is nothing wrong with them." Lucius was about to demand that Trenzel explain that remark when the ghost said, "You have to pretend to be Cassius."

It was virtually identical to what Gryffindor had told him to do, but this time, Lucius wasn't going to do any acting until he was told why he had to pretend to be his many-times-great-grandfather, and he told Trenzel so.

The ghost looked very wearied by Lucius' words, but after a while, he started talking.

"Julia is Cassius' grandmother," he revealed softly, and Lucius jumped at that. Narcissa glanced at them momentarily as Trenzel continued slowly.

"I believe I should explain first how Hierthent works. The founding members of our group desired a fortress, which would belong solely to them, a castle, which would never be invaded nor be turned over to another owner. When a witch or wizard is awarded a place in the Thirteen, he or she must also be presented to Hierthent. Hierthent must recognize of him or her."

Lucius shook his head at this, bewildered. "... How does Hierthent recognize him or her?"

"By their blood," answered Trenzel simply. He proceeded to explain how samples of blood were acquired when wizards and witches passed through the dolmen."

"It's painless, of course," he added as an afterthought when Lucius looked disturbed by this information. Trenzel finished the rest of his explanation quickly, saying that they, the Thirteen (when they were still alive) could command Hierthent to appear and disappear at will whenever they wished. It was the ultimate security system. In addition, should it ever happen that all the current members of the Thirteen were killed or were all absent from Hierthent, the castle would self-destruct. It would never be taken by enemies.

Trenzel also lectured about the special powers the Heads of the coalition had. The Heads, he said, were always considered members of the group regardless of whether they had retired or had awarded their chairs to others. Julia Ilias was an example. She had once been Head of the Thirteen. The other twelve members had acknowledged her leadership over them. Even after she had given her chair to Jiswell Rathal, she was still a member, albeit now an honorary one.

"The former Heads could also still control Hierthent. As long as Julia is alive, Hierthent will not fall," Trenzel finished on a somber note.

Lucius nodded slowly at this and asked what this all had to do with him having to pretend to be Cassius Ilias.

The ghost actually swallowed nervously before he said, "Because Julia will only give her chair to her grandson." Trenzel looked thoroughly helpless and desperate. "She is very ill. She has been ill for a long time."

"She's delirious. Even though Cassius had already been awarded Salazar's chair, she kept presenting her chair to him though it was already Jiswell's chair."

"... You want her to give me her chair."

"Yes!" Trenzel looked hopefully at Lucius. "If Julia awards you her chair, you can control Hierthent instead and command it to return to its proper place."

Lucius paused at this. The idea of controlling Hierthent appealed to him very much. Trenzel also began expounding on the advantage of becoming one of the Thirteen. Since Lucius would be the only living member, he could assign the rest of the empty chairs to whoever he wanted to award them to.

Draco chipped in, "What about Lord Slytherin?" Both wizards glanced down at the boy still locked against Lucius with surprised expressions. They had forgotten he was there and undoubtedly had been listening intently to everything that had been said.

Trenzel smiled sadly. "Salazar is anathema. His blood is recorded in Hierthent, but it will never acknowledge him as one of us again."

"Because he killed you?" Asked Draco softly.

Trenzel tilted his head at him. "No, child. After he killed us, we couldn't command Hierthent anymore since we are dead, and Julia wasn't interested in anything other than seeing Cassius again. Not that it would have mattered. He had been already declared a disgrace and an outcast before after he left us for Hogwarts."

The boy shifted uncomfortably under Trenzel's regard. "... But you and the others tried to get him back."

"... No, boy. Just I."

* * * * *

Narcissa watched as paperthin wrinkled eyelids opened slowly, revealing glazed green eyes. They stared at her puzzledly, a curious shine taking away some of the blankness in them. She smiled at her, and Julia's mouth curved automatically at the edges, smiling back at Narcissa.

A skeleton of a hand rose, trembling, to press its shrunken palm against Narcissa's face. She forced herself not to react with repulsion when dry leathery skin touched her cheek.

"Daughter." The word was spoken so softly that Narcissa almost didn't hear it. Julia's hand fell away when Narcissa started, surprised that Julia had mistaken her for her daughter.

Julia began babbling in soft stumbling sentences. "I'm sor- sorry. You're here to take me away from this world... Cassius. Where's Cassius? I have to give him Hierthent before I leave..." Senseless iridescent eyes locked on Narcissa's once again.

"An angel... How beautiful you look, dear daughter. You look as you did the last time I saw you... Beautiful... ... Cassius? Where's Cassius? I can't go with you yet, not until I give Hierthent to him... Where's Cassius?"

"He's here, Julia," said Trenzel softly as he glided forward to stand beside the bed. Julia's eyes lit up when she saw him, fondness shining in them. "Trenzel, please don't lie to me. You always did so enjoy tormenting me."

"I'm not lying, Julia," Trenzel said softly, resting his translucent hand over Julia's. But this time, Julia didn't respond to him. Again, she asked where Cassius was. Narcissa thought she saw tears glinting in his eyes before he turned his face away from her. After a moment, he called out steadily, "Cassius, come here."

Lucius moved forward stiffly, and after a few deciding seconds, knelt down hesitantly beside the bed. "I'm here, ma'am," he said softly, and the air turned tense as Julia considered him carefully.

"... No." Julia turned away, and Lucius flushed as she muttered, "You look like Cassius, but you are not my grandson. ... Where's Cassius?"

"He is Cassius!" There was a collective gasp as an impatient Draco marched forward to the bedside. Lucius stood up hastily, about to pull his son away when Draco again insisted that Lucius was Cassius

"Draco!" Narcissa reprimanded him, wishing utterly he would behave more properly. She stood up as well to help her husband just as Julia whispered, "Cassius?"

Green eyes took a feverish cast as she sat up so quickly, it seemed that she was attempting to jump out of bed. Trenzel panicked and immediately supported her frail body by placing himself behind her. Julia took no notice of him. She was staring at Draco, who was frowning at her.

Draco's face slowly turned dubious when Julia smiled at him and slowly lifted a trembling hand to him. It seemed she wanted him to take it, and Draco raised his hand. But only after Lucius nudged him in the back.

He didn't want to touch her. Her skin was old and all wrinkled up. Draco barely suppressed a shudder of disgust as their fingers met, and suddenly, everything turned black.

* * * * *

... What in the world... Draco found himself walking or at least trying to. He kept on tripping, stumbling and falling against walls. Walls, which were dimly lit from within, glowing faintly. He recognized them as walls of Hierthent's corridors.

Again, he fell, catching himself once more against cold marble. He recoiled when he saw his hands. They were so thin, forcibly reminding Draco of skeletons. There was barely any flesh under the baggy skin. They couldn't possibly be his hands.

They began to tremble, and Draco realized he wasn't commanding them. He stared as those hands pressed against the wall, pushing their owner to stand and begin moving forward once more.

He was experiencing Julia's memories, reliving the past. After what seemed forever, they emerged into the Hierthent's Great Hall where the Table of Thirteen was. Draco could see that there were people lying on the floor and some seated in chairs. ... This was when Lord Slytherin assassinated the Thirteen.

As Draco watched, the thirteen chairs around the table began to glow. Unlike most of Hierthent, they were made not out of marble, which was the castle's ubiquitous material. Instead, they were solid obsidian. The Thirteen's chairs, blocks of carved black crystal, took on a pearly white light around their edges.

... The Dark is shining, thought Draco, who was surprised by what he was witnessing.

Then, one by one, the light disappeared, leaving behind only shadow. Only one chair continued to glow, though dimly now while the rest resembled no more than cold shaped glass.

Draco heard a low keening cry and felt the floor beneath his feet began to tremble. From what seemed far away, there were panicked screams, cries, yells and shouts. They echoed faintly, but their words were startlingly clear.

Hierthent is falling!

And everything turned dark once again.

* * * * *

"... Him?" Lyle looked doubtfully at Draco, who was seated at one of the chairs in the Great Hall.

Turin pointed a finger at Draco. "He's Head?"

When Trenzel nodded, they simultaneously declared, "You have to be joking!"

"I am not joking," said Trenzel calmly, and he turned a deaf ear to further protests from the other ghosts.

"There is nothing to be done to change it," he stated derisively. "Lady Ilias awarded her chair to him before she passed away, and Hierthent has acknowledged him."

"But he's just a child!" Nerinval complained.

Several paces away from the squabbling group, a concerned Godric asked Salazar if Draco would be all right.

"I'm sure he will be, Godric," answered Salazar softly. "Despite the protests aired, there is nothing they can do to unseat Draco, and neither would they dare to." Hierthent would destroy itself without a living member of the Thirteen present in it.

"Very well, Salazar." Godric looked over to Draco seated at the table. His parents were standing on either side of him. They were watching the ghosts warily.

Godric suddenly felt dizzy. He raised a hand to his temple as Salazar asked him if he was all right.

"I'm fine," Godric reassured him while wondering at the clear concern in Salazar's voice. Then, he forgot about the matter when he found that the Dark wizard's green eyes were focused on him. He was very relieved that Salazar had his sight back. From what he gathered, the blinding spell was broken when Lady Ilias passed away.

She must be the one who blinded Salazar then, Godric decided. He shook his head as he experienced another bout of nausea. Unable to keep his balance, Godric leaned against Salazar, who quickly supported him. A numbing roar filling his ears, he didn't hear Salazar asking what was wrong.

* * * * *

"Don't worry. It will pass." Salazar glanced aside to see old Gilson floating a mere step away. He hurriedly looked back to Godric, who was still suffering from some sort of attack.

"It's only the side effects from the memory extractor," revealed Gilson, who actually sounded apologetic though Salazar knew he had no regrets for using the device on Godric.

"He fought against it," Gilson supplied in a helpful tone of voice. "He put up quite an impressive resistance." He sounded admiring, and Salazar wished Gilson were still alive so that he could punch him in the face, though very old and feeble the other wizard was.

* * * * *

"You want me to what?" Draco's fingers felt sore from gripping the chair's armrest so hard all the while he had been sitting in it. The chair was made entirely out of obsidian, and the black glass material made a striking contrast against the white veined marble floor. The chair was very uncomfortable to sit in.

Across the table, which was made of the same material, Trenzel repeated his request. "Take Hierthent back to Mount Hezerun." Hezerun must be the name of the volcano Hierthent used to rotate and revolve around.

"... How do I do that?" Asked Draco stiffly.

There was the plopping sound of Lyle dropping his head on the table. "This is hopeless..." he muttered against the shiny surface.

Most of the other ghosts sighed and agreed with Lyle. They began muttering comments like- "He can't handle this." "He is far too young." "It's over for the coalition." "I wager one hundred and twenty galleons Hierthent falls tomorrow." "Agreed." -under their breaths.

"At least tell me the incantation," complained Draco, irked that these dead former members of Thirteen were already passing judgment on him.

At his demand, the specters fell completely silent so suddenly that Draco's skin crawled at the unexpected quiet. He resisted the urge to lean back against his chair, to move away as nine pairs of ghostly eyes stared hard at him all at once. He could feel their anger as though it were solid, and unwillingly, he felt fear. He was afraid, and Draco almost got up from his chair to run away. Had his parents' hands not come down to rest on his shoulders, he would have.

Lucius' hand was heavier. Draco felt it tighten. Whether his father did it to reassure his son or himself, Draco wasn't certain. Regardless, it was a comfort, despite its weight.

His mother's, on the other hand, seemed no more than a feather resting on his shoulder as though she knew her son shouldn't have more than the burden he was already carrying. It was a gentle reminder, telling Draco they were there with him.

And it helped Draco face his judges.

* * * * *

Trenzel felt himself warming to the boy as he refused to look away from them. The new Head, so young, glared back at each one of them in turn. Trenzel had to smile when Draco's challenging eyes met his.

He had passed their test. Now, he must pass Hierthent's test.

* * * * *

"... This is impossible."

This time though it wasn't one of ghosts who uttered this, but Draco.

Weary, he leaned back against his chair and lifted his hands to rub his face. Narcissa looked at him worriedly before glancing to Lucius who was seated in the chair right to Draco's. Her husband was sleeping, slumped in his seat. He had dozed off an hour ago while their son struggled to do his first duty as Head of the Thirteen.

Somehow, he had to order Hierthent back to the real world, make the castle return to its former place. However it didn't seem to want to. No matter how many times Draco shouted commands, which echoed long and hollowly in the cavernous room.

Narcissa glanced down to her own chair, which Draco had awarded to her. It was the most uncomfortable thing she had ever sat in. Hewn from solid obsidian, it appeared to be a plain block of crystal with a hollow on the front where the occupant sat and a higher back to rest against.

She found it very hard to believe these chairs were the most important seats in the Dark wizarding society a thousand years ago.

A tired sigh distracted her from her thoughts, and Narcissa turned back to her son, who was standing up from his chair. As she watched, he stretched hard, rolling his shoulders, stretching his arms out and arching his back with feline grace. He was so much like his father.

After a while, Draco plopped back down in his chair, looking sulky. Fortunately, the three of them were alone, and Narcissa was the only one to see him act undignified. She decided not to reprove her child for being unelegant. He was, after all, very tired and worried.

The ghosts had left, taking Lords Slytherin and Gryffindor with them. Draco had protested this. He had turned white when the one called Trenzel, who seemed to be the leader, quietly told him that memories should take no part in this test.

They knew then. Somehow they had found out that the two wizards were not real, simply memories. Though they had corporeal forms, they were considered lesser than the spirits that haunt the living plane. The doors were shut and barred before Draco could go after them. This added to his desperation, and Narcissa worried that the strain might be too much for her son.

He cared much for Lord Slytherin, she could see. Perhaps, even more so than he did his own father. And that, Narcissa would have to say, was Lucius' fault.

He had spoiled Draco too much, thought Narcissa sadly. She stood up from her chair and walked over to her husband. As she passed, her son's chair, she reached down a hand and let her fingers glide over Draco's cheek. She felt him shrug them away, but didn't allow herself to feel hurt. Boys were always shy about receiving affection. A smile curved her lips at this.

Cold, as was to be expected when parents shower money instead of affection on their children. The warmth sought was now hidden away, shrouded and misted by a distance that lengthened each time the child felt his parents took him for granted or gave too much. This, Lucius had tried to avoid. He spent as much time as could be spared with Draco, who had come to believe that he was everything to his father. This brought another problem.

Spoiling. It is difficult not to spoil one's own blood. Pride makes it hard to punish one's own or is it love that makes it painful? Lucius did feel that his own son could do no wrong. Proud of his own, proud of Draco, and the boy had known that pride so long that the moment Lucius showed disappointment in him, it felt like betrayal, a stabbing hurt against which Draco could only defend himself by withdrawing into himself. Pride again was the culprit when it prevented father and son from revealing their inner fears to each other.

It is always difficult to live with proud men. Narcissa barely kept herself from sighing as she perched on the armrest of Lucius' chair. Her husband stirred slightly as she played with the locks of his hair, but he didn't awakened. She felt her heart warm as she looked at him.

It hadn't been easy winning him.

Again, another noise from Draco disturbed her. She turned away from Lucius to see Draco, this time, walking away from them. Only when he had stopped to look out of one of the tall windows letting light into the hall did she go after him.

* * * * *

There was nothing, but white mist outside. Draco stared out of the window unblinkingly for a while. Surely, he would see something if he stayed alert. Hierthent was flashing between worlds, wasn't it? There should be something to see.

But there wasn't anything, just wisps of endless white as though Hierthent were inside a bank of clouds. There wasn't even a hint of a blue sky.

Where is this place... He thought absent-mindedly, forcing himself to think objectively as slow steady panic began to well up inside him. He couldn't help but realize that he might never be able to command Hierthent.

"Draco," said a soft gentle voice, which could only belong to one person, and he forced calm into his features as he turned to face his mother. He felt embarrassed as he always did when she was worried for him.

"I'm all right," he said gruffly before she could say anything else and turned back to look out the window. Of all people, she was the hardest to face, Draco felt, and he didn't understand or desired to know why.

It just seemed natural that way. It had always been that way with her for as long as he could remember. He just didn't want her to worry about him. He didn't want her to worry about him.

"Draco," she said again, and this time, he felt her fingers running through his hair and was utterly glad that no one saw her doing so.

"Mum," he protested, jerking his head away from her hand. He didn't see the amused smile that touched her lips as his reaction.

Draco turned absolutely red when she whispered, "We love you very much, Draco." He looked uncomfortably towards her when she added lightly, "You should know that and never doubt it."

"I know," he muttered, trying in vain to stop blushing. However, there was a lightness inside him that made him feel as though he could float. It was an almost giddy feeling that seemed to be bursting inside him with joy. Yet. Yet, the embarrassment won over and finally, he simply looked away, almost ducking his head down, with a faint repetition of what he had said just before. "I know."

He missed the sad look in his mother's eyes and froze when she softly said, "But you do not like your father."

Again, their eyes met, and once more, it was Draco who looked away, this time, reluctantly. He wondered what she would say next and almost flinched at her next words.

"It's not surprising. When it comes to blood, love comes naturally, easily. An instinct. However, liking must be earned. Just as what had happened with Lord Slytherin."

What would she know about that? Queried Draco silently, glancing at her warily and wanting to ask what she knew. But he didn't nor did he need to.

"It's quite obvious," she said. "Even your father noticed it."

He hesitated. "... Does it bother him?"

"You mean is he jealous?" She asked, and she shook her head slightly when he nodded. "You're his son, Draco. Fathers do not require their offspring to like them. Love, yes. Honor, respect, obey, but liking is not necessary."

Draco didn't notice his hands clenching. "It should be," he said so softly, he could barely hear himself.

Narcissa wisely said, "It's difficult to be a father, Draco." And she stopped at that, without giving further explanation. It was her eyes instead which told him silently that someday he would understand on his own.

There was something about this talk that bothered Draco as he stared at his mother, who was no longer looking at him but instead staring out the window as he had. He wanted to resolve this strange feeling inside him, but for life of him, he couldn't figure it out. It would only be a long time after that he would realize what was peculiar about this conversation.

Not once had she asked him to try to understand his father.

* * * * *

As far as Helga was concerned, Hierthent was better off smashed and broken against the ground. She stood atop the dolmen in the center of the plain of the volcano's hollow, staring with extreme dislike at the flickering, shimmering floating fortress and wondering why, why she ever agreed to this quest in the first place.

She should have refused when Salazar suggested it, begged for it actually when he returned to Hogwarts after being captured by Dementors. But again, once again, she had allowed herself to be swayed, to be persuaded by that silver-tongued wizard, whose skull she sorely regretted missing with her staff that night he and his squad raided Ravenclaw manor.

And then, suddenly, Hierthent solidified, but only for a few moments.

* * * * *

"What happened?!" Draco demanded, but his mother was as confused as he was. He whirled back to the window, which showed only white nothingness again. But just so recently, only for a several seconds, it had shown them the volcano.

What had happened?! Again, he demanded, this time, of himself. He had seen something. He was certain of it, as was Narcissa. It couldn't have been their imaginations. What had happened? What had they done?

From behind, they heard a sleepy groan and turned simultaneously to see Lucius waking up and shaking his head.

* * * * *

"I didn't do anything," Lucius snapped, irritated and trapped in his very uncomfortable chair by his wife and son who kept throwing questions at him. They kept asking him if he had done anything when they know very well, he had just been sleeping.

And you can't do anything while you're sleeping.

Narcissa suddenly asked, "Were you dreaming?" Draco quickly followed. "That's it then!" He practically yelled with excitement. "What were you dreaming about, father?"

His son was puzzled when Lucius blushed and testily declared, "I'm not telling you."

"Lucius-"

"I'm not telling him, Naris."

"Surely now, that mustn't have been the reason."

"Indeed not."

"What are you two talking about?"

"Draco dear, could you kindly leave us alone for a few moments?"

* * * * *

Draco wanted to tear his hair out as he watched his parents conversing and flirting just beyond his range of hearing.

He wanted so badly to scream, and he did.

"THIS ISN'T THE TIME FOR THAT!"

"I never realized Draco was such a spoilsport," Lucius commented sagely to Narcissa, who didn't bother to hide her smile as their son seethed at them.

* * * * *

"Think of home, Draco."

"What?"

"Home, Draco," repeated Narcissa patiently, and when confusion still lingered in his slate-gray eyes, she explained that his father had been dreaming of home just before he woke up.

Draco looked dubious. "It didn't sound like that was what he had been dreaming about."

The corners of her mouth twitched. "True," she admitted, somehow managing to keep her face straight as behind Draco, Lucius was making no effort to conceal his amusement. "But," she added, "he had been wishing he was back home just as his dream ended."

Draco glanced back in time to see Lucius hide his smile. The boy rolled his eyes, deciding not to confirm with him what Narcissa had told him to do. He was beginning to think his father was hopeless.

To just think of home. It sounded too simple an answer.

But he decided to try it nevertheless. What other choice had he?

With a short nod to his mother, Draco walked away from his parents and sat himself in his chair. Leaning back fully and trying to seat himself as comfortable as possible, he grasped with both his hands the chair's grooved armrest and rested the back of his head against cold stone. He closed his eyes, brows furrowing and thought of home.

It was difficult. His mind was so clouded with worry and uncertainty that for a while he had to struggle with his fears and clear them away. Draco tried to remember the last time he had seen Malfoy Manor, trying to recall its age-worn, ivy-covered walls, its neat lawns, the forest to the west and the hills to the south. There was an artificial lake in the garden behind the mansion. Draco had always thought it was large enough to be called a lake though his father referred to it as a pond.

He loved to swim in it. There were fishes in it, large and small. A school of Ramora lived in it. The silver fishes had been a gift by the International Confederation of Wizards to his family. Whenever, Draco went swimming, there were always several Ramora-s alongside and protecting him.

Draco found himself remembering the family of turtles he had once found. There were waterfowl aplenty as well. Swans and ducks liked to nests in the reeds growing at the far bank. He recalled the time he had sneaked up on roosting mother duck sitting on and warming her eggs. He winced, remembering how furious the bird was after the momentary scare Draco gave it.

It had pecked him so hard that he had run away with it squawking and chasing after him. His father heard his cries and had dashed out of his study, which had a door opening out to a veranda in the garden. He had been furious to find his son in such a ignoble state, sobbing in pain from the wounds the duck had inflicted on him. Lucius had scolded Draco as he dragged his son into the manor before going back to deal with the fowl that had hurt Draco.

Lucius had also grounded Draco. For the next three weeks, he was confined inside the manor, but it wasn't much of a punishment. Secret passages and hidden rooms abound in the centuries-old mansion. Draco bribed the House Elves with clothing articles to show him the way. There was no danger of releasing the Elves since he wasn't the current master of the house.

In all, Draco had found twenty-three secret rooms, which had been built by his ancestors. Most of them were small, cozy-sized niches, but three were as large as his own bedroom. One was behind one of the bookshelves in the main library. The second was under the kitchen, occupied by Elves. The last and his favorite was right over his father's study. He had spent many hours spying on Lucius and his associates conducting their business.

Unfortunately and fortunately, his father was a careful sort. Even in his own house, he rarely said anything, which would implicate him in unlawful activities.

* * * * *

Draco's chair was changing. It had begun glowing shortly after Draco closed his eyes. It was a soft white light, which flickered gently around the edges of the chair. As they watched, Draco relaxed, tension draining from his stiff seated form. As he slumped, the black obsidian as though it was clay molded itself to the boy's body . It supported Draco fully as his breathing deepened until it was clear he was sound asleep.

Worried, Narcissa moved towards him, but Lucius stopped her. She could feel tension in the hand, which held her arm and knew he would act should it become certain that their son was in danger.

* * * * *

"There!" One of the wizards below shouted, but Helga didn't allow herself to be distracted. She kept her eyes on Hierthent, which had become solid again. Silently, she counted each moment that passed, wondering if the castle will remain this time or disappear once again.

As the number of seconds neared sixty, a low deep rumble started, and Helga almost lost her footing when the ground started shaking, jarring the dolmen on which she was standing upon. To everyone's horror, the cracks in the dried earth began to widen, and someone yelled to get to the horses, which were panicking and trying to loose themselves from their magical tethers staked to the ground.

Rowena screamed at Helga to get down as Nott hurried her to her steed. But before Helga could leap down, Hierthent rushed by overhead with an earsplitting roar. The dolmen was torn apart and dragged into the air following Hierthent as though its enormous stones were bound to the castle now not only floating but flying as it went away from the volcano.

On the largest stone, Helga barely kept herself from being blown away. With the Gripping Charm Madam Hooch had taught her during their Quidditch sessions, she managed to hold on before casting a Sticking Spell which kept her firmly anchored to the boulder.

Catching her breath, she looked back to see the horses with their riders leaving mere moments before the plain disintegrated as water rushed out from a mysterious unseen source. Yellow dust turned into brown mud as the thick murk swirled like a whirlpool in the dead fire mountain's mouth.

Then, just as quickly, it subsided as though being swallowed by the volcano. Soon, there was nothing left of the hollow where the dolmen once stood, but an empty gaping hole leading into the bowels of the earth.

* * * * *

Interlude:The Black Sun

"Helga."

The small cornflower-haired girl was slow to lift her head, but her onyx eyes met Hengist's gaze straight and calmly. He couldn't help but think that Regius was an old doggering fool for sending home his daughter. Now, as far as the Hufflepuff lord was concerned, Helga didn't need to go to Ravenclaw manor for an excellent education in magic.

And so it was. Helga's teacher was not the infamous Lord Regius Ravenclaw, but her father, her mother, two uncles and an aunt. Each of whom who had finished their studies under the Ravenclaws, but not under Regius.

* * * * *

The Hufflepuff wealth, as with all other noble families, came from the earth, the harvests from crops tilled in their lands, metals and minerals mined from the mountains within their borders and herbs and spices gathered from forests and marshlands. However, the Hufflepuffs were less as successful in commerce and trade.

Hufflepuffs were rarely good businesspeople. They were oftentimes tricked in various dealings, paid unfairly for their goods, made fun of behind their backs. Thieves and scoundrels considered them easy sport (far too easy actually), and usually the well-known good nature of the Hufflepuffs allowed the rascals to get away scot-free without paying for their sins. Indeed. Lord Hengist Hufflepuff's grudge against Lord Regius Ravenclaw didn't last a fortnight.

Truly, what was considered even more amazing than the Hufflepuff gentile nature was not their sheer determination, persistence and hard work, but their luck. It was surprising the Hufflepuff clan hadn't been ruined despite all the trouble with fortune hunters. Or perhaps, this was their saving grace.

Hengist Hufflepuff had married twice. His beloved first wife had passed away after delivering their third child and son. The second witch he took as wife married him for his gold and was as shrewd as she was cold-hearted. Her intention from the start had been to poison Hengist and inherit his fortune.

But the Hufflepuff luck held true, and Lady Neesa, known to the Thirteen as Vera, daughter of Lady Vivian Vorin, fell in love. How it came that she lost her heart to Hengist Hufflepuff is a another story entirely. It is suffice to mention that with Lady Neesa or Lady Vera married into the Hufflepuff family, the number of conspiracies, schemes, plots and such to steal away the Hufflepuff fortune fell down very dramatically, becoming practically nonexistent.

Lady Neesa Hufflepuff bore three daughters to Hengist, who was delighted on having not only three strapping sons from his first marriage but also three lovely daughters from his second. Helga was the youngest and the apple in her father's eyes. Being the favorite, she was trained and treated twice strictly by her mother, who was determined, that no daughter of hers would be easy prey to rogues and ambitious wizards and witches. Being a Hufflepuff automatically labeled you a sap. An unfair bias of a general impression, but one which could be used to a Hufflepuff's great advantage if he or she knew how.

Having a powerful Dark witch as an ally was a tremendous advantage to the Hufflepuffs though they didn't know they had one, but the Thirteen knew, and they were impatient with Vera's delay in delivering the Hufflepuff fortune to the coalition.

* * * * *

Strange... thought the little girl as she stared at Hierthent. Around her, wizards and witches bustled to and fro, going about their business, ignoring Helga standing silently and still in their midst. The banks of the lake were crowded, people milling and finding places in six lines, which led to six stations, each of which was manned by a wizard and a witch.

Names of visitors to Hierthent were always written down and recorded unless you were a high-ranking noble who need not go through such irksome formalities. But for some reason, Helga's mother had insisted in going through the commoner's way. And not only that, she had dress herself and her daughter in ordinary drably robes as though she desired as much as possible that they be ignored and overlooked.

But her current wear or the fact that she was lost in a crowd and separated from her mother wasn't the reason why Helga was bothered.

She found it strange that no one seemed frightened of Hierthent. She had been terrified when she first saw it, even miles away on her father's winged horse, which her mother had taken without informing Hengist.

What was even more bewildering was that her mother didn't believe Helga when she told her why she didn't want to go to the floating fortress

Didn't her mother see what Helga saw? Couldn't others see it? Was she the only who saw Hierthent as it truly was?

Not a shining white castle in the sky as she had often been told, but a black sun.

* * * * *

"So Vera, this is Helga, whom you claim Regius fears?"

"Yes, mother," said Vera humbly, knowing though pretending not to notice that Helga was staring at her and at the witch, whom she had just called mother.

Lady Vivian Vorin of the Thirteen smiled when the little girl looked at her with fearless curiosity, and her mind mused at Helga's black as coal eyes. Not merely light ringed by a darker shade, but black within and out. Such dark eyes were a rarity in this region of the world.

"Tell me, granddaughter," she suddenly said, noting with pleasure that the girl wasn't startled or had she flinched at being addressed to. "Why did Regius Ravenclaw send you home?"

There was no hesitation from Helga as she answered, "Because he is afraid of me."

* * * * *

"Afraid of her...?" Trenzel was dubious as was Gilson and Yves. They all watched Vivian attentively as she retrieved a vial from her pocket and placed it on the table. The four of them were in the Council Hall.

"This is hers?" Asked Yves as she picked up the vial as Vivian nodded and held it up to the light. It contained blood.

Gilson queried, "Why would Regius be afraid of a little girl?" He pointedly didn't mention that everyone feared Regius, even himself.

Trenzel's eyes suddenly widened, and he demanded of Vivian, "Are you saying this girl may be immune to Regius' spells?!"

* * * * *

Three years later...

* * * * *

"... Mother... why am I covered in blood?"

"Shush. It's all right, Helga. You've just been in an accident, but it's all right. You're well and safe."

"... If this isn't my blood, whose is-"

The sleeping potion took effect before her daughter could complete the question. Vera felt relieved that she didn't have to answer that question for now. After cleaning her daughter of Regius Ravenclaw's blood, she put out the candles and left Helga's room with her daughter's stained clothes carefully wrapped into a tight bundle. Come morning, Helga wouldn't remember anything, and Vera need not fear anymore of the Thirteen seeking her family's fortune.

Their plan had worked. Vera didn't know all the details, but she knew from experience how thorough and meticulous the Thirteen worked. Especially when it came to dealing with their enemies, and Regius Ravenclaw was their greatest adversary.

Ravenclaw's specialty was mental magic. One of his favorite spells was aptly named Raef, fear spelled backwards. It made everyone he desired to intimidate quake in terror at even his approach. He also devised a counterspell to Raef which inspired courage, but he rarely used it. He was also known for dabbling in love and hate potions and had caused serious trouble for the coalition when once, somehow, he had managed to tamper with Hierthent's water supply.

Regius, of course, thought that was all in good fun, but the Thirteen certainly didn't consider it a laughing matter. Regius Ravenclaw was an uncontrollable bastard, and for a very long time, they had plotted to kill him. The only obstacle to this desire was that Regius was a truly a talented and powerful wizard, who had he wanted to, could have taken down Hierthent by himself.

Fortunately, Regius was mainly interested in being entertained, and after a while, matters settled between him and the Thirteen. This dubious peace lasted for several years until the final straw that broke the proverbial back of the Hierthent camel. Regius had the sheer gall to try to buy off one of their members, their newest and most promising no less, Salazar Slytherin.

Finally, the senior members of the Thirteen decided that it was time to permanently do away with Regius Ravenclaw. Their secret weapon was Helga, who was Regius' magical antithesis or Magant. Basically, it meant that neither's magic would work properly against each other since their energies cancelled each other out. It was similar to the rule that caused wands with cores from the same creature to fail when used against each other. However, the odds of finding one's magical antithesis is as high as finding one's true soul mate.

But they had discovered Regius' Magant. He, who was the strongest, was powerless in Helga's presence, and Vera could just imagine how quickly the wizards and witches sent by the Thirteen would have set the stage of how the Ravenclaw lord supposedly died.

It would be, to all appearances, accidental.

* * * * *

Several years later...

* * * * *

"Rowena, where are you?" Helga called out into the dimming forest path, feeling impatient and worried. It was nearly dusk, and she still hadn't found her companion in this forsaken forest.

"Rowena!"

There was rustling sound from the bushes to her left, and Helga whirled towards it, her hands tightening instinctively on her staff. She relaxed when she saw it was Rowena, emerging from a thicket.

"For goodness' sakes!" She reprimanded the other witch as she approached her. As always, Rowena wasn't angered or irritated or bothered by Helga's scolding. She just smiled warmly, blue eyes lit with fondness as she sincerely apologized for worrying Helga, whose anger left as quickly as it came. She could never stay angry with Rowena for long.

What were you doing over there?" Helga asked as they emerged from the forest. Northward, over the next knoll, was Ravenclaw manor to which they headed, while on their left, the sun was setting behind the horizon to which the seemingly endless golden fields of ripening wheat stretched.

Rowena paused to look at the sunset before continuing, with Helga stopping momentarily to let her catch up. The silence between them was comfortable, and Helga had almost forgotten her unanswered question when Rowena murmured, "I was visiting the place where my father died."

A short while later, Helga blew out a disbelieving breath, commenting that she still couldn't believe that tough old coot had let a boar get the better of him.

Rowena smiled at this, not the least put off by Helga's show of disrespect to the memory of her father. She knew Helga had great respect for him even though he had sent her home after only six days.

"You did scare him." Rowena teased Helga, who straightened proudly and suggested that Rowena tell Godric so, since the wizard still wouldn't believe that Regius Ravenclaw had been afraid of her as Helga had claimed at their first meeting.

"I doubt Godric will ever believe that my father was scared of anyone, Helga."

"Because he, himself, was terrified of the old coot."

"Now, Helga. You should really stop telling Godric that. He doesn't like being reminded of how scared he was of my father when he was a boy."

"Well. I don't like to be called a liar."

"Helga..."

"Very well, very well. I will be the mature party in this conflict."

The sun was half set by the time they arrived at the manor. Rowena told Helga to go in, saying… she wanted to look at the sunset for a while longer. As Helga disappeared into the house, Rowena was reminded of a time, she and her father had watched a sunset together. She had been only a little girl then.

As she turned to the far horizon, she remembered that that had been the day that Helga had been sent home from Ravenclaw manor. Rowena had complained about it and demanded that he explain why he had refused to teach Helga Hufflepuff.

His answer had been short, roughly said and cryptic.

"She's dangerous."

* * * * *

Chapter 34 has ended. In the next chapter, it's back to Hogwarts.

Comments, suggestions, corrections, questions? Please leave a review. Thank you.