The moon had glossed the lake with a sheen that reflected the heavens back on themselves. Trees fringed its edge; tall pines dipped and nodded in the faint breeze cascading down from the ponderous hilltops. These hills stood guard over the sprawling habitation known as Winterseam. Snow had come early to this aptly-named settlement, and the young girl who stood looking out into the darkness enjoyed the shimmering contrasts around her.

She allowed her long, thin fingers to slide along the lowest branches of a slender birch, removing the icy crust and leaving naked bark where before had been a cloak of diamond-white snow. The cold bit at her bare hands, but she didn’t mind; she was of hardy stock. Her clansmen had farmed this region for centuries, becoming so attuned to the land and the changing year that they were as much a part of it as the trees that provided them with wood or the lake that supplied their fish. She was of this place; its essence sang through her blood and found an outlet in her lyrical voice. For a child of eight, she had a remarkable ability to create songs without accompaniment. They flowed from her like an effervescent waterfall, dropping clear notes into the ears of any fortunate listeners.

Her voice was silent that night, for she had not come to give a performance. The child’s intention was to find better entertainment than her own limited repertoire. She knew that there had been the promise of activity by the Dead Stream for days now. A ring of mushrooms had sprouted several weeks after they should all have been gone, and they had flourished and grown beyond all natural expectations. Her biggest worry was that Lachlan, her brother, would happen across them and attempt to pick the fleshy fungi. Her fears had been unfounded, for no one ever strayed towards the Dead Stream unless they had good cause to do so. The last time one of the clan had ventured in the direction of the dirty water and treacherous mud banks had been when the white bull had gone missing and they had to search every part of the valley, including all the places they usually avoided.

No, the child was quite sure she was alone and would be able to enjoy the magic in peace. Her family did their best to acknowledge the realms beyond their own, but in truth, they were very half-hearted about it. She knew that had they paid more court to the Urisk, they would not be struggling with the roof for the sixth time in as many weeks. No matter how many times they attached the sods of earth, they still came loose in the slightest breath of air. Her father cursed the turf for being too thin and lacking substance; he did not listen to his young daughter as she advised him to leave out extra milk and perhaps some bread. He was a man who believed in only one being beyond his own experience, and that was the Christian God and his son the Christ child.

They had not believed her when she said there was something wrong with Ruairidh’s pretty new wife. She had seen the young woman bathing in the lake; seen her webbed toes and the way she thrust through the water like no human she had ever seen. The child knew what she was, yet she was unheard, for who wanted to hear that the son of the chieftain was married to a Selkie. These creatures were beautiful, but often mournful, and longed for the sea with all their heart. She thought it was cruel of Ruairidh to keep the seal pelt buried beneath their home, away from his wife and her freedom. Had the child been braver, she might have dug up the pelt, brushed the Scottish mud from it, and returned it to its pitiful owner.

Rowena, for such was her name, born under the pale full moon of a November night to a mother who had made much use of the Rowan’s bark to alleviate her sickness during pregnancy, slithered along the banks of the stream and caught hold of some roots to bring her progress to a halt. Dark hair obliterated her sight for a moment before she pushed it back and had a clear view over the mouth of the stream as it disgorged into the main body of the lake. The moon was a kind mistress, she reflected as she watched its light lend a magical lustre to the water. The sun, he was harsh, burning away the top surface of the lake and creating a haze that hid all. He left the grass and the trees parched and dying, he harried the clouds and sent them scudding away; he hated the clan at times, of that she was sure. Her dark eyes looked up and felt the full benevolence of the white circle that bathed the settlement in much-needed light.

It was only the beginnings of a rustle and then it was gone. A bell-like sound fluttered through the night chill, yet Rowena paid it no attention. If she flattered them into thinking that she was interested, they would taunt and tease and she would see nothing. The first time she had witnessed such a thing, she had squealed with delight and then found that her hair was being pulled with such force she felt it would be torn from her head entirely. Hidden hands had pushed her into the stream; prodding, sharp fingers digging at her bones mercilessly. Any ordinary child would have abandoned the scene, screaming for their mother, but Rowena picked herself out of the stream and found that within minutes she was dry.

The teasing has lessened as she learned to control her reaction. Now, she could attend a gathering and not receive so much as a hiss in her ear. Sometimes they were subdued affairs, and Rowena had not yet grown to understand why some were and some weren’t. The lights that skimmed the stream promised something of a celebration tonight; lashes of blues and lilacs danced across the surface of the gloomy water and she settled herself behind a gorse bush. Within minutes the air was filled with the rush of wings and a high-pitched cackling soured the air. Seven figures were creating a web of light as they flashed furiously through the trees and then stopped to hover over the water. Their wings were the source of the coloured light, and Rowena smiled to see such prettiness. It was a glamour on them, she knew, that made them seem pretty. When their wings stopped dancing and they were not in the mood to shine, they were the ugliest little things imaginable. Their skin was the colour of aged lichen, with bumps and lumps covering their small, pinched faces. It was their dancing and music that made up for their visual deficiencies, however. It transfixed her, brought her to a new world in which anything was possible. Most importantly, it made her forget the chores of the farm. Here, she did not have to rise early to be kicked by the cows she attempted to milk. Sheep did not shun her or horses lead her a most un-merry dance around a mud-weary field.

The tiny fiddles and pipes picked up a new tune, faster, more urgent. It rippled through the bare trees and followed the stream, fanning out and covering the lake with sound. Rowena moved slightly, disturbing the shimmering magic. This was a new development; seldom did they allow their music to bleed beyond the Dead Stream. A heaviness obscured the moon and she looked heavenward to see a blustering blackness toying with the white light. This mass then swooped down and the furious music was replaced with high-pitched shrieks and screams. Bewildered by the sudden confusion, Rowena struggled to her feet and tried to retreat into the safety of the trees, but she slipped against the smooth ice and fell backwards. The exposed roots prodded at her back and made her gasp in pain and the sharp sensation mingled with the chill of the ice melting through the rough fabric of her dress.

The darkness was swinging down, falling closer and closer towards her. The fairy music had been replaced by what sounded like a million bees swarming above her; the buzzing intense and vigorous. The host moved as one although it was not one, something she realised as it paused, regrouped and then noticed her. She could not quite understand how something that resembled a black plume of smoke was capable of noticing a small, human child, but it swelled before her, breaking into several strands as parts broke away to follow the terrified fairies that were busily fleeing the scene.

What had previously been mere cold air was now filled with a different tang; sweetness filled her nostrils and made her cough bright clouds of breath into the atmosphere. She finally found her feet and forced herself to stand and face the interloper. Shoving a handful of hair from her face and trying to stop her teeth from clattering together like hooves on hard ground, Rowena looked directly at the top of the plume and spoke.

“Whoever you are, you can let me be. I’m just a wean from the village and nothing to you. I’ll let you in peace if you let me in peace.� Her chin tilted upwards in a gesture of bravery, even though her heart was careering around her chest.

The plume flickered a little, waving around as if convulsed, and then it fell to earth quickly, spreading itself along the ground at her feet. If Rowena had not been so fright-struck, she would have said it was laughing at her. She stepped back – the blackness was about to touch her toes – and waited for a good opportunity to run for safety.

“What form would you have me take?� The voice was brittle, almost fragile. It came from somewhere just below her right ear; glancing down she could see that a faint stream of the black thing had reached her and was quivering just short of her shoulder.

“You can take whatever form you like. I do not care. You’re not from this place and I think you should go back to where you came from.�

“They were not wrong about you.� The smoke swirled higher, forming a circular cloak around her, eddying, bewitching. It faded from black to grey and then to silver, all the while giving off the odour of deep earth sluiced with a brackish tang. “You can see it at the back of your eyes; defiance.�

“Let me alone!�

She stepped back and then yelled as if scalded. Her shoulders had made contact with the silver matter and had felt the burn of its power.

“I see I am alarming you. Let me become more acceptable to your narrow experience.� It retracted, forming a narrow trunk that seemed to collapse in on itself. From this dense mist a dappled cloak suddenly burst forth, dark as the smoke had been but infinitely more corporeal. A hooded figure emerged, carried high on the back of a fine black horse, its face obscured by the thick fabric. With a breath of wind, the last of the smoke vanished leaving something in its wake that was tall and forbidding, but no longer intangible.

“I am here to see you safe home, child.� It was a female voice, charred with an accent that Rowena did not recognise.

“I am home!�

“How touching. How brave. My dear human child.� She removed the hood from her head and Rowena could not stay the gasp that fell from her mouth. Here was a creature the like of which was not seen in Winterseam. For all the darkness that had surrounded her, this woman’s hair was of the brightest yellow and bound around the forehead with thin bands of gold so that it formed three tresses. Two curled up and about her head while the third fell away out of Rowena’s sight. It framed a wide brow which topped dark eyebrows; an alarming contrast to her hair. Rowena had to stare deeply into her eyes before she realised what was so unusual about them; there were three irises in each. When the woman made to speak again, scarlet lips parted to reveal a line of teeth that quite took the child’s breath away. Only children had such bright, whole teeth in her village. Most adults had worn theirs down by the time they reached full adulthood and had blackened them on a diet of dark fruits and ale.

“Who are you and what do you want of me. I was doing no harm. Just watching the wee ones like I do.� Her natural defiance reasserted itself, making her brave in the face of this unknown threat.

“Your little friends have angered my companions, as you can see.� She reached out a long arm in the direction of the fleeing fairies, the cloak splaying out in the wind. The horse shifted its position slightly at the movement, causing the woman to place her hand upon its neck in a gesture of deep patience. “They will learn a lesson from this night; you cannot steal Sidhe gold and expect to get away with it.�

The words made little sense to Rowena; she had no knowledge of Sidhe, or of gold.
Gold was a foreign thing to her clan, a metal they saw little of.

“That still doesn’t tell me what you want with me.�

“Want with you?� Her words dripped like melted butter into the cold night. “It is not a question of want. I am Fedelm, one of the Sidhe, and a prophetess. I do not have wants.� She drew closer, her cloak fluttering towards Rowena, tantalising in its denseness. “Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild with a faery, hand in hand, for the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.�

“You speak in riddles,� she replied. “I will go nowhere with you, least of all to the waters. I know what happens to us when we are dragged beneath the waters by the fairy folk.�

“Then you will know that your fate lies there. You will know that there will be a lake and beside that lake will grow a monument to magic. You will know that each time you pass by this meagre water’s edge� – here she gestured to the lake in the near distance – “you will feel the pull of it in your heart and in your mind and you will know that you have turned from a path on which you were destined to tread. You will know, human child, that within your body there flows our blood. You will know that there is more beyond your inadequate life of simple toil and struggle.�

Rowena looked into her triple irises and saw towers and the fluttering of a banner. She was given a small, swirling vision of a life less mundane. Rolling around in triplicate was her future and yet she could not fully grasp the import of what this strange and beautiful creature was telling her.

“My future is with my family. I will marry a farmer and will live with him and our animals here. There is nothing beyond this valley for such as me.�

“My child, there is always more than the eye betrays. One day you will see it all spread before you like a banquet on which you shall feast. But I see that you are not ready and will let it be for now. Mark well the way the wind sighs about us and the warmth you feel within your heart, for this is your legacy. You are part Sidhe; time will bring you back to us.�

“This makes no sense!� Rowena suddenly felt a violent shift in her heart. The fear she had initially felt was dying and the first prick of belonging punctured her skin. “You do not speak plainly.�

“In time, child. It is a great and tiresome thing for we Sidhe to leave our home and cross the water. One of us will come back for you; if you are not ready then, we will wait until you are. Good night, child. Sleep well in your bed, for the morning awaits you.�

She left. One moment her golden hair lit the night and the next she had dissolved into the ground at her feet. Rowena blinked a few times to makes sure her eyes did not betray her, and sure enough, the woman was gone. Silence reigned across the valley, giving away nothing of what had just occurred. With a weight on her shoulders that she could not shift, Rowena made her way home. She stole silently into her bed and enjoyed the rough kiss of the blankets as she struggled to find warmth on that cold night.



In time, she forgot the woman. The warmth of the strange fairy’s presence left a shadow on her soul and scarred the girl with a vague longing for something she could not possess; for the most part she managed to ignore it, but sometimes it caught up with her and she would look towards the hills and wonder what she had denied herself.

Sunlight peppered the hillside with bronze, bringing light to the flaming gorse. Rowena turned her head and revelled in its warmth. Her love of the sunlight had grown over recent years and with it so had her body. She was no longer the pale child who crept around in shadow and moonlight; now, she hid from it and longed for the bright beneficence of the sun She carried with her a sack of feed for the horses slung across her strong back, her long legs making little work of the steep incline. Several of the beasts loitered at the far side of the field, flicking tails and sly glances at each other. Upon her approach they raised their heads with interest and made move towards the bearer of their feast. The grass was hard now, December in the full vice of winter’s ice, and they were glad of the extra feed. Rowena knew that even though the animals were essential to the well-being of the clan this amount of feed was an indulgence on her Angus’ part. He treated his horses better than he treated the people that depended on him. Her breakfast had been a hard piece of bread and some mouldering cheese washed down with weak ale.

“Here!� she called, the word breaking the winter’s quiet. “Away and get your feed!�

A rumble of hooves against earth followed and they crowded around the trough as she tipped the oats and bran into it. Hot horseflesh pressed against her, forcing Rowena to make hasty her retreat from the field.

“Greedy wee devils,� she muttered, swinging skirts and legs over the fence. “Oh!�

She was not alone. Even worse than not being alone, she found herself accompanied by a stranger.

“You are lost, sir?� she said, dropping gracefully from the fence to stand facing him. “I do not ken your face and I see you are wearing better clothes than we have seen these past years.�

“I am not lost, Rowena. I am far from lost.�

She started at the use of her name, being of the opinion that a stranger knowing your name without an introduction was not a good portent. “You’ve me at a disadvantage for I do not know your name.�

“My name is not important. You would not recognise it if I told you.� His dark eyes watched her; no, she thought, they are cutting through me like Angus’ axe through a tree’s belly. “I am come to discover if the child is ready to see her future.�

A memory stirred. Moonlight, fear and longing all moved slowly across her mind’s plateau. She had forgotten something, something important, and now that she needed to remember it she found her memory failed her.

“I don’t…�

“Then you are not ready.� He had such a look of sadness on his face that Rowena gathered herself against her weak memory and willed something, anything, to return to her.

“Fedelm.� The name was the only thing she could manage, and when she spoke it she found herself surprised by elation at its recollection.

The laugh he gave was riven with triumph. “The child has her remembrances still. And do you recall what Fedelm told you?�

“She spoke of water and of my future. I did not understand then, and I understand even less now. I have my place by the water. My future is here.� The wind rose about them; her hair fought free of its bindings and several strands conspired to hide her face. “Are you of her kind?�

“I am Midhir.� The look of incomprehension on her face made him smile, and she found she enjoyed the warmth that his smile provoked in her. “I told you it would mean little to you. You see me as a stranger, yet it is you who is the stranger to your own self. Come with me.�

Rowena thought of Angus, could see his hard body bending to crack the wood so that they could live. Fuel and trade all came from Angus’ hands and put food on their table. She was to be married to him soon enough; the whole clan were looking forward to the celebration. Still, this beckoning was insidious.

“What will you show me, Midhir? Will I see a future greatly planned for me? Will you trick me into your world and keep me there while I sleep soundly in this one?�

He laughed loudly, a glad sound that broke their horses from their feed and made her look to the ground for fear she would join him in the merriment.

“Who are you, Rowena Ravenclaw of Winterseam? Are you a timorous child or a woman whose mind is beyond that of those with which she shares her life? Can you see something in my eyes that reminds you of some other place?�

“I can only see your eyes.� A further memory; turrets and banners and Fedelm’s eyes surfaced, yet she preferred his eyes. Deep as a dream and brown as dying heather, they watched her with no guile.

“Of course you can. I do not have Fedelm’s trick with the future. Did she tell you anything of substance; I know she can be a conundrum when the mood takes her to be so.�

Rowena found that the image of Angus had faded. “She told me my future was by the water. As you can see� – she gestured down to the basin of the valley – “I have all the water I need here.�

“Come with me and let me show you another body of water. She said you were not ready when you were small, but you have grown beyond such doubts, I feel.�

“I could not leave—�

“Leave the beasts and your burden? What would you leave behind but strife?� He had moved closer, his green cloak brushing the ground and fetching new growth from dead seed. Still, he did not touch her.

“I am to be married.�

Midhir’s face darkened at that and a furrow appeared beneath his brows. “This is news indeed. To whom?�

“Angus McDougal. He is a good man who would keep me well.�

“WELL!� His face paled as his words grew hot. “This is not your life. This is not the life that has been chosen for you. You have been given time enough to be innocent but now you must accept your future and leave this – this folly behind.�

“I will leave naught behind.� Rowena was nothing if not stubborn and now this failing came to the fore. “This is my place. I wish you people would stop bothering me and let me alone to live my own life. You tell me I am one of you yet I do not recognise your face or your name. I am a Ravenclaw of Winterseam and will always be so.�

“Dagda preserve us from foolish women and their principles! So be it. I shall have to send someone else. I have failed this day, Rowena Ravenclaw, and I shall suffer for it. Think on that when you do finally come home.�

A raven flashed across the hillside, coming so close to Rowena’s face that she closed her eyes and raised her hand to deflect it. When she opened her eyes again, Midhir had gone and she was left to the cawing of the birds and the soft munching of the horses’ mouths.

“This is what you get for dreaming of things beyond your ken, Rowena,� she said to herself in a stern voice. “Men on mountainsides and women in forests.� With long strides, she returned to her homestead and the warmth of the fireside. Whatever these people were, they were bothersome in the extreme.

She pushed open the door of the small croft and found that the fire had been allowed to die. A stack of wood lay by its side, yet nothing burned within. Her face flared with anger and she reached out to grab some of the sapless kindling. To her amazement the fire drizzled into life and flames flickered lazily towards the hole in the roof. Puzzled, she set the kindling back down and stared into the warmth for a few moments. Her imagination made much of the fact that something resembling a face flickered out at her. Blonde hair and bright eyes, burning eyes, looked out at her, drawing her near. The door flew open and a blast of cold wind blew through the room, shooing away the image in the fire.

“Holy Mary, but this wind is rising. Have the animals been fed?� Angus blew on his hands to fight the ice within them.

“Of course they have,� she snapped, vexed that her vision had been dispelled before she had finished with it. “The fire was out.�

“Och, Rowena, there’s a peevish note to your voice I cannae say I like. Fetch us a rug to wrap around my cold shoulders, unless you fancy wrapping your bonny wee self around them.�

“I’ve dinner to set on and it will take forever to get the water up now the fire’s out. I’ve no time to take the chill off you. “

“Well you’d better get to it then, hadn’t you?� He squeezed between her and the fire, letting his fingers pinch at the flesh on her bottom as he did so. “You’re a fine woman, but a wee bit to fond of the sound of your own voice now and again.�

He lumbered to the back of the cottage and she could hear the sound of his large body moving around, filling the space with male disorder. The fire had calmed itself to a low burn now, red and gold flickering reflected on the walls.

“I’m away to fetch some salt beef from the store. Shan’t be more than a few minutes,� she called above the heavy sound of his movements.

“See that you’re not,� he called back. “My toenails need to be filed for I’ve bleeding feet.�



The cold air that Rowena stepped into when she left the cottage was as cold as her heart. What was she thinking? She had been so proud with the man called Midhir – was he even a man? She had been so filled with insistence that her life was all good. Looking down at her hands, she could see the calluses caused by repeatedly churning the butter. The skin on her fingers was rough and red from milking the cows, and she knew that her face was made dry and bitter by her time spent in the fields. She was but seventeen. What would she look like when she was twenty?

The store was a turf-clad hut that served as a cool place to store their salted meats for the winter. It sat with its belligerent back towards their cottage and squatted neatly into the dip of land caused by the little beck that dribbled off the main stream. She pulled back the hide that covered the doorway and prepared to step into its interior.

“Rowena Ravenclaw, enough is enough.�

Stilled by the second strange voice that day, she allowed the hide to drop back.

“Turn and face me or forever be held in that man’s grasp.�

For once, she did as she was told and was met with a man so fine-looking that she doubted anyone could look long upon his face and survive the experience.

“You are coming with me this night and we will hear no more of marriage and cattle. This is not what you were born to. It was a foolish mistake that you have been birthed here, and to the woman you call mother.�

“My mother died two years ago, my father five.� She spoke softly, as if afraid to disturb the beauty of the man before her.

“That man was a human. He was not your father. You spurned your father today in a manner most inconsiderate. I will not be so easily spurned, young lady.�

“Midhir?�

“Was foolish in thinking he could get away with siring a child beyond the realm and expect it to return willingly. I have spoken to him of this failing many times and still he is optimistic. Now, we have wasted enough time. Your future will not mould itself. Come, woman, let us go.�

Rowena hesitated. The man whose beauty brought heat to the night moved quickly and she screamed as his touch found her. It was as if her hand had been plunged into a fire far hotter than any burning wood could raise. Her vision failed her; her body loosened and fell. Expecting to hit the ground, she soon discovered that her fall had not been broken at all. She fell, and continued to fall, until all sense left her and she slipped beyond the world.




The sun was bright, brighter than it had any right to be, and it spilled into the room abundantly. Rowena was blinded by its power as she opened her eyes to find herself in a world far removed from anything she could have imagined possible. Marble walls surrounded her, reaching up to disappear into what appeared to be the sky, and yet she did not feel as if the room was open to the elements.

Swinging her legs off the bed, she noted that every piece of furniture in the room, from the frame of the bed to the chairs and small table, were of the highest craftsmanship imaginable. Her fingers traced the lines of the carving on the bedposts, dipping in and out of the intricate knotwork. She couldn’t help feeling ridiculously out of place in her dull grey dress and undressed hair. It took her several minutes before she plucked up the courage to reach for the door – a vast thing that cut a huge swathe out of the grey-veined marble. The handle turned sweetly as she made to open it, the door swinging so lightly it might have been made of air. The corridor appeared to have no end, stretching away from her into whiteness.

“Ah, you have awoken.� A woman appeared from the ether, something that Rowena was beginning to expect with these people. “Go back into your room and you will find fitter clothes than those rags. There are members of the court who would speak with you.�

“Me? Why would anyone want to speak to me?� She found her throat had become hot and dry.

“They have a task for you; has that not been explained to you yet?� Her face was sour, despite her beauty. “The half-wild daughter of Midhir is to perform a service for them. I know not why they have chosen you, with your blood so tainted by that of a human.�

This was the first time Rowena had encountered anything but polite vagueness from these people – these Sidhe – and she was rather taken aback by it. It also took a few beats of her heart before she realised that the daughter of Midhir the woman referred to was herself.

“I cannot help my blood. My mother was a good woman and I am as human as she was. It is not a sin to be human.� Rowena was stung to defend herself and her mother.

The woman looked at her, not troubling to disguise her scorn. “It is a sad state of affairs when they choose someone so inadequate for such a task. I have daughters of my own who would be better suited to this.�

“Then why did they not choose them,� Rowena snapped. “Perhaps it is my very human failing that makes me the right choice.� She stopped and shook her head. They were dragging her into their schemes so easily, and she was beginning to grow almost used to the madness about her. “Who exactly are you?�

“I am Fuamhnach, your father’s wife.� The words spat at her like hot fat on a fire. Rowena had meant her question to encompass all of them, but the personal answer made her understand why this woman was so embittered; she was jealous of Rowena’s mother.

“I cannot help what your husband did with my mother anymore than you could. You are wrong to force your jealous heart on me.�

Fuamhnach raised a hand as if to strike at her. Rowena waited for the blow to fall, knowing that at least then she would have a real grievance against them. It was interrupted by the arrival of the man who had brought her here.

“Fuamhnach! Stay your hand and your temper.� He strode towards them, a blood-red cloak flaring behind him. “This is not your home; you are a guest here and you should remember that.�

Rowena found she could not help feasting on his appearance. All of these people wore their beauty well, yet this man wore his carelessly, as if it were something burdensome that he would be rid of. In this bright light his hair was curious; at the roots it was deep and dark, yet it gradually grew to red and finally, gloriously, burst into gold, so that he had the look of a man whose head had been dipped into molten metal. He was of her own height, turning now from the viper Fuamhnach to face her.

“You have been provided with clothes. Please, change yourself and I will escort you to the Great Hall. There is much to be discussed before you go back to the place that was foretold for you.�

“You are returning me to my home?� She searched his face for a flaw and found none there.

“Of course. I think you will be pleased with what you find when you return.�

“I don’t unders—�

“These things are not for you to understand. Go and dress.�

She returned to the room that she had woken in, hearing a low conversation begin between him and her father’s wife. Her father. She had not given him much thought, although there had been little time for any thought on any subject. Indeed, when she did allow her mind to mull over all this new information, she found it quite incapable of really understanding what was happening. She was not wholly human, that much was clear. So if she was not human, what did that make her? Her skin looked the same; she felt the same; thought in the same way; saw the world through the same eyes. So why was it that she felt so completely out of place in this world and yet strangely reluctant to go back to her own.

The dress was hanging by the bed, its fabric almost as white as the walls. It shimmered beneath her touch, the silk threaded with sliver. Never in her life had she expected to wear such a garment. Stepping from the drab of her own clothes, she hurriedly pulled it over her head and looked to the door as it opened without announcement. Expecting to see the good-looking man there, she instead found a young girl.

“Good morning,� the new arrival said, her voice sweeter yet than any of the others’. “I am here to dress your hair. Cuchulain was right when he said you looked like a pooka with its head on backwards.� She laughed at the comparison and pulled a comb form the folds of her dress.

“Cuchulain?� Rowena tripped only slightly over the unfamiliar name.

“That’s the man who brought you here. He’s such a great one; we’re all a little in love with him, for sure, it’s hard to ignore such a fine face. And the stories of his battle deeds, well they’d be enough to make any girl fall at his feet. But you don’t want to hear all that… come, sit you down and I’ll pull the tangles and grass from those rat’s tails you have on your head.� She picked at Rowena’s hair with her fingertips.

Rowena sat down obediently and allowed her hair to be tugged and tamed into an approximation of a style.

“I’m Aife,� the girl said, smoothing her fingers through a particularly nasty tangle. “We don’t really live here, but there was trouble at our own rath, so here we are. Sure, it’s a nice place, but it’s not like home was. Father’s looking for a new mound. I’m not convinced it’s a good idea. I think we should rebuild what we had.�

“I’m sorry,� Rowena said, and she was sorry. It was hard to lose your home. When her father had died, their house had gone to her eldest brother, who had immediately sent her to work for Angus. She lost her father and her home in the same week, and the wound still ached.

“I’m sure father will find us something suitable. We can’t just live anywhere.�

“Forgive me asking,� Rowena said, determined to make the most of this guiless creature, “but who exactly are the Sidhe?�

“Bless you!� She laughed and caressed Rowena’s hair into a twist which she proceeded to secure with a finely-detailed comb. “Have they not told you? We are the race that live below the land. We reigned above it at one time and were as you were, but then the Milesians came and we lost our homes. So we live alongside the humans, but not with them. We could not bear to leave the land which we loved so much, so we live within it.� She smiled triumphantly. “And it is a good life, for the most part.�

“The one called Fedelm, she travels in a peculiar way.�

“We can all travel thus. We shift our shapes at will; a rather useful tool to confuse humankind.�

“You’re fairies?�

“If that is what you wish to call us, then yes, yet we are so much more. We guard the land and the people. We protect them and teach them some of our skills. We give the land its magic.� She stood back and twisted a lock of hair one final time. “I’m sure even Cuchulain will be pleased with this. Mark him well, for I fear he will grow sweet over you and our father would be most displeased.�

“You are Midhir’s daughter? You don’t look much like him.�

“No, but you do. You’re very dark, both of you.� She smiled and rushed away, leaving the door open as she did so.

Rowena wasn’t surprised to see the man named Cuchulain enter and close the door behind him. It seemed she was to be inflicted with one Sidhe after another. He smiled and she felt the floor shift a little.

“You have Midhir’s graceful features; I just hope some of his impetuous spirit is absent from your character.� He almost reached to touch her hair but stopped himself. “You will meet with the council. Dagda is the chief of us all and will smile on you this day. I have no doubts about that. Attending will be a member of the English Wizarding Council and a representative of the Welsh Witches and Wizards’ Assembly. They have brought their own candidates with them.�

“Candidates for what? What have you brought me here for?� Rowena followed as he made off in the direction of the door.

“There is much persecution in England and Scotland. It is impossible to teach magical people any longer with any degree of safety. We agreed to help bring together suitable people to build and run a school for witches and wizards.�

“And you want me to do this? But I am no witch – what would I have to teach children?�

“But you are a witch, my dear Rowena. Your mother was a witch; that was how she brought Midhir to her side: she bewitched him. I would wager that you have had strange things happen when your blood runs hot. It’s your magic. Your mother will have kept it hidden from you, leaving you with much to learn.�

“I do not understand any of this,� she muttered as she left the room, and they began their walk down the endless corridor. “I feel as if I should just go home and be with the clan. What reasons have I to be with all of you in such a beautiful place?�

“Do not fret, Rowena. You will find your place of belonging. Give it a little time.�

“That’s easy for you to say, this is your home.�

“You mark your pretty face with such a frown. Be grateful and glad that you will not live your days herding sheep and cattle from one field to another.� He steered her in the direction of a huge double door that appeared before them as if at his bidding. “Now, prepare to meet the people with whom you will share your future.�

She didn’t have the chance to ask him what he meant by that, for the doors opened and allowed them entry into a vast hall. Marbled, and gilded with gold at every opportunity, it had the aspect of some grand heaven here on earth; she found herself swamped by the grandeur. A huge wooden table stretch down the centre, its top empty save for several goblets of wine. Chairs were arranged around it, many of them empty. Six, however, were not.

Her eyes were naturally drawn to a dark-haired man, whose head was bent over the table as if in great contemplation of the grain in the fine oak. His skin had a dark cast to it and she was intrigued by the aroma of spices that seeped from his skin and hair. She was not introduced to him, and he did not raise his head at her appearance. Next she passed a tall, plump girl, whose blonde hair formed a halo about her head. This one did look up at her entrance and there was a sparkle about her face that made Rowena smile and bow her head in recognition of the happiness she saw on the other’s face.

The third person actually rose to greet her, pushing his chair back and reaching out to take her hand.

“My lady, it is a great pleasure to meet you and on such an occasion. I am Godric Gryffindor of York and you may consider me at your service.�

Rowena blushed and allowed her hand to be kissed, sensing Cuchulain’s disapproving look upon her as she allowed Godric Gryffindor to flirt with her acquaintance. She was led to the head of the table, and as she passed a looking-glass, she caught a glimpse of her reflection. It was a shock to find she had lost her old self at some point in the journey from Winterseam to this place. She had never thought of herself as particularly pretty before, with her sun-tanned face and alarming amount of hair – but the reflection she saw now showed a glowing and happy woman dressed well and with a sense of undefined purpose about her.

“My child.� The man that now spoke held out his hands and took hers into his great palms. A great sense of power radiated up her arms and shook her from top to toe. Here then was the ruler of this race. Dagda: an oddly plain man that would not have brooked a second glance were in not for the immense authority that surrounded him.

“It is an honour to meet you, my Lord.� She curtseyed and the fabric of her dress slithered about her.

“An honour to meet your own grandfather! I am the one honoured that you finally returned to us. Cuchulain tells me that you were willing to return.�

She suddenly felt grateful for that particular small lie; she had been most reluctant to return, but it would not do for this man to think she had been brought back against her will.

“I am most glad to be here,� she responded, which was, at least, the truth.

“There will be time enough for us to talk together later, for I have a feast in honour of the four of you and in honour of the time of year. Now, it is enough that we make the appropriate introductions.� He turned to the man and woman on the other side of him. “Honoria Abertillery, chief witch of the Welsh Witches and Wizards’ Assembly and Arbottle Aethlefric of the English Wizarding Council. They have with them plans for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that you will most assuredly want to see.�

The dark-haired man stiffened at the mention of plans, but he did not have the time to sulk for long.

“The gentleman at the end,� Dagda continued, “is Salazar Slytherin. He comes to us today from Cambridge, although he travelled far to get there. He is originally from the dark mounds of Afghanistan.�

The man thus identified gave a sharp nod and raised his eyes just once. She was shaken a little by the overarching desire she saw there. His brows were sharp above those jet eyes and they expressed more than any other eyes she had ever seen.

“Helga Hufflepuff joins us from the valleys of Caerphilly. I think you and she will have much to discuss; Helga was raised as a witch and will have many insights for you.�

Helga twittered a warm greeting, which Rowena returned with an overwhelmed grin.

“And good Godric has already introduced himself. The Gryffindors are well known for their bravery on the battlefield; less so for the rich strain of magic that flows through their lineage.�

“Sir.� She turned back to Dagda and frowned. “How do you expect us to build a school and where are we to build it? I have no teaching experience. I do not even know how to be a witch.�

The great chief laughed again and reached to pat her shoulder. “Child, you are here to learn. Everything comes with time and good teachers. Helga will teach you all you need know about being a witch; Cuchulain will teach you some skill with a bow and other skills that will serve you well should you ever need to use non-magical means as a defence, and Aife will teach you to sew and make more of yourself than you have in the past.�

“And what if I do not want this? What if I wish to go home and marry my betrothed and be who I was?�

Dagda roared – there was no other word for it – with laughter and then looked to Cuchulain. His face was creased with disbelief and he continued laughing even as he spoke.

“The child is not serious? She cannot prefer what was to what will be.�

Cuchulain was at her elbow, not quite touching it. “She feels a connection to her family, my Lord, as we do to our own. This will pass with time and good company. I think she has had enough to contemplate. I suggest we retire and I will deliver her to the feast tonight.�

Rowena did not like the idea of being delivered anywhere; it made her feel like a helpless lamb bursting from its mother’s womb.

“I can make my own way to the feast if directions are given.� She stepped away from Cuchulain’s arm and found that she was closer in proximity to Godric. “Perhaps an escort can be found who will be less inclined to treat me as a chattel.�

The crack of displeasure that sprang from the spurned warrior was felt throughout the room, but only Salazar smiled to see it.

“Perhaps the lady would prefer an escort with no vested interest in her beauty or her charms,� he said, rising to his feet and the challenge.

Rowena stepped from the conflagration of wills that was occurring between Cuchulain and Godric and approached Salazar. He stood a good few inches taller than her, and had the sharpest features she had ever seen on a man. Aquiline noses and bladed cheekbones were a rarity back home, especially when coupled with hair as straight and as black as his. In that respect, he matched her perfectly.

“Thank you, sir,� she said. “I shall wait for you in my room.�

He gave the slightest incline of his head and she smiled, gratified to find one who seemed as ill at ease here as she was. For however long they kept them here, she knew she would not rest. It was all beautiful, but lacked any reality; Rowena was a girl rooted in reality.

“Then it shall be,� Dagda said, concluding their discussion. “The solstice is tonight; a night of fire and feasting. Be prepared for a long evening and much revelry.�

The assembled company broke up and went their myriad ways. No one but Cuchulain accompanied Rowena, and even he proved to be more company than she desired. It was with relief that she found her self left alone in her room as the spurned man bade her a good day and told her there would be food sent to her for her luncheon.

It was the feeling of timelessness that she misliked the most; the false sky – for she had asked Aife earlier and it was indeed a bewitched ceiling – changed little and gave no indication of the time. Her life had been ruled by the position of the sun and each chore that rose with every movement of that bright star. Now, in this place whose location that she did not even know, there were no chores and no sun to guide her movements. The morning slipped softly into the afternoon, and she dozed and dreamed. Her dreams were strange; peppered with people she did not know and magic she could not control, they left her feeling ill-rested and disturbed.

Aife and her merry voice woke her from one particularly bad dream that saw her buried beneath a turret of rubble that collapsed about her.

“I’ve a new dress for you. Dagda insisted you have something appropriate for the night. I think the scarlet will make you look like a vision.�

Rowena looked blearily at the scarlet velvet that rippled in the girl’s hands and didn’t know whether to be pleased or distressed by yet another change foisted on her at someone else’s bidding.

“Is it so difficult for you?� Aife asked, coming to sit on the bed. “You will enjoy tonight, of that I am sure. It will not be like your own home, yet there will be much magic at the Solstice Feast that will make you feel as if you never had another home.�

“I’m not sure I miss my home as much as I might,� Rowena admitted. “I just wish I knew more than I do. I would just like to glimpse the mountains, smell the fresh pines and feel the cold snow in my hands. This place is so… so unearthly.�

“That’s because it is!� Echtain laughed. “You are in the greatest rath of them all: Brú na Bóinne. This is Dagda’s domain. What is seen above land is just the beginning; what is below is the real heart of our realm. Come, dress and be happy. Tonight will be the beginning of a new life for you; you should embrace the opportunity.�

“I’ll try,� she said, doubt in her heart. “I’ll certainly try.�




She thought hours must have passed between Aife leaving her and Salazar arriving at the door. If they were to be kept here long, she fervently hoped that there would more in the way of occupation. The dress she now wore was magnificent, something that was confirmed by the look of admiration on Salazar’s face as she opened the door to him.

“The scarlet is an improvement on the white,� he said, his accent slight and exotic. “You are ready?�

“I am,� she replied. “And you have not changed your own clothes?�

“I will not be dressed by others. My clothes are my own.�

If this was the case, Rowena reflected, he was a wealthy young man. His clothes were almost as fine as her new ones, lacking only the most exceptional details. Salazar offered his arm, which she accepted, and he strode away with some purpose in his step.

“You know your way around this place?�

“It is not difficult. You walk and you eventually come to the place you would like to be. I deem that the rooms shift around at will.�

“How can that be?� Rowena asked, not believing him despite the evidence of her own eyes. This corridor had led to the Great Hall that morning, yet now they were walking down a staircase that had not been there earlier.

“It’s an enchanted world. Am I to understand that you really have no knowledge of magic?� He looked down at her with a sceptical look.

“None at all. I used to watch the wee folk when I was a little girl, and I know all about them. This is something quite different though.� She waved her hand about her head as if to encompass the whole world that she now inhabited.

“You will grow accustomed to it soon enough. I was a latecomer to the magical world myself. Once the door is opened, all knowledge comes rushing through it.�

Her nostrils drank contentedly at that wonderful spice smell he was still exuding. She could not place any one scent; there was little use for money or exotic spices in her village.

“Why are you sniffing at me?� he asked sharply.

“You smell like far distant lands,� she answered. Something in her honesty seemed to please him and they settled into contented silence. Three swift changes of direction later and they found themselves before doors even greater than those belonging to the Great Hall.

“I suspect the Great Hall is not the largest in this place,� Salazar said as the doors opened for them.

It wasn’t the last time that Rowena was to witness Salazar’s astute judgement. The hall they now entered seemed fathomless. An enormous fire burned in the centre, its smoke lifted and dispelled by something unseen. Tables lined the outer walls; walls which seemed to shift to accommodate the moving guests. Torches burned from sconces throughout the room, making everything golden and warm. Her companion’s own scent was drowned by the odour of roasting meat and spiced wine. The feast was laid out down one whole side of the room; a glorious array of pies, roasts, nuts and berries, three huge pigs’ heads, three spits turning on fires that had been lit in one huge corner, and barrels of ale and wine had been brought out, their contents flowing freely into guests’ goblets and tankards.

“This is certainly a feast of grand proportions,� he said, deftly steering her past three large men who all wore a disheartening array of weapons. They were involved in a mild altercation with someone concerning those weapons and were of the opinion that they would hang on to them for the duration of the feast.

“They will give them up eventually,� Salazar said as they approached the barrels. “It’s a sign of their power that they are even trying to get away with keeping them. Wine or ale?�

He accepted a large tankard of ale from the brightly-dressed man who stood sentinel over the casks.

“Wine, please, a small one.�

“I don’t think anything about this evening will be small,� he said, nodding towards the wine barrel. “I hope your feet are up to a good deal of dancing.�

The man handed him the still-frothing goblet, which Salazar took and placed in Rowena’s hand.

“I can dance well enough,� she replied, watching as several musicians entered and began to settle themselves into a corner. “Can you?�

“It is not something I have practiced much.� He did not seem bothered by this failing, going on to suggest that she might favour Gryffindor for such activities. Rowena had the distinct impression that anything so frivolous as dancing was something that would not appeal to this stern man.

“I think I can persuade you to join me for at least one dance,� she suggested. “Something slow that you would be able to keep up with, perhaps�

“I did not say I could not dance,� he said archly, “merely that I did not practise it.�

“There is no need for you to be such a sour-face!� She drank deeply from her goblet and caught the eye of Godric, who was deep in discussion with Helga. He raised an eyebrow at her and she smiled and returned her attention back to Salazar.

“Why us?� she asked. “Or, rather, why me?�

“They chose me because of my work with the king. I have constructed many castles for him. My magical abilities are little known, but the council found me. I could not refuse such a prestigious request.�

“You do not look like a man who builds castles.�

“And what, prithee, does such a man look like? Perhaps you would have me with masonry in my hair and the look of a man who does nothing but draw battlements?�

“I did not mean that. I simply meant you look more like a merchant or a Chieftain than someone with such expertise. It is an admirable thing to be able to raise a building from the ground. Why the other two, then? Do you know them?�

“I know Godric of old. We grew up for a time together until his family gained position and wealth in York. He is a good man, if a little soft-hearted. Helga, I know very little of. She is a pleasant enough creature: placid, entertaining.�

He took her hand, his fingers closing around hers with confidence, and moved her towards some chairs. “Let us sit,� he suggested. “I do not enjoy my ale if forced to stand.�

The tables were all trimmed with the branches of evergreens, holly being the most prominent with its bloodied berries. Rowena arranged her dress about her, glancing around to see who was already present. The musicians began to play, harps and pipes filling the space with joyous music. Now they had to raise their voices slightly; the hall filled rapidly and the noise level grew by the minute.

“So, why me? I have no skill that I could bring.�

“You are one of them. I believe they wanted to place someone close to the heart of this new school. You have been watched from a young age and have always displayed wit and wisdom beyond your experience and your years. You were a natural choice, I believe.� Salazar appeared satisfied with his assessment, for he smiled and drank deeply.

“How is that you know this and I do not? How is it that everyone knows so much about me and I know so little?� She placed her goblet on the table with some force. “I feel that I am one step behind all of you – no, I feel like I am a whole journey behind you.�

“You will catch up.� He was serene, yet beneath that serenity she could sense quiet power. He did not wear it like Dagda did, heady and intoxicating; he kept it close to him, hidden and unexpected.

“Everyone keeps telling me that.�

“Drink your wine and stop complaining about what you do not know. If you continue, you will be too concerned with not knowing and fail to address the deficit.�

Several men lined up by the doors and she watched them raise ivory horns to the heavens as the doors opened again, and this time a huge log was brought in, supported by twelve men, such was its size. It was manoeuvred above the heads of the assembled crowd and the musicians changed their tune to something achingly ethereal. The candles burned higher and Dagda, who she had not seen because of the gaggle of women about him, stood to raise a toast to the Yule log.

“My friends, welcome to the hall of Dagda. May you enjoy this sacred time and feast to your heart’s content. The Host have been abroad this night and brought with them some guests from above us. Make them most welcome, for they only have such a short time in this magical realm.� He waved his hand at a group of bewildered looking people who were huddled together and being handed drinks. “And we also have several humans who have been brought for other reasons.� This time he sought out Rowena and her three new companions.

“Who are those others?� Rowena asked under her breath, looking at the terrified peasants. Salazar raised a finger to his lips and did not answer.

“Tonight we will light the oak before us and celebrate the breaking of winter. Behind us is the dying year and ahead of us we face rebirth. The days will lengthen and the darkness be diminished. For twelve days we will celebrate and then our guests will dispense back to their homes, some old, some new.� Here he looked at Rowena and smiled. “Be peaceful amongst each other and make much merriment.�

The men carrying the log lowered it carefully over the central fire and Rowena stood to watch it fizz and crackle, the sap being drawn by the heat. Rich, oaken smells filled the air when the bark caught light and a huge cheer rose as the first flames licked across the girth of the log.

“It’s beautiful,� she breathed. “Absolutely beautiful.�

“Good grief, you are not crying?� Salazar looked up at her and could see the glisten of happiness on her lower eyelids.

“I am not!� she snapped back, wondering why she was so ashamed of her sudden display of emotion. “The fresh smoke is burning my eyes.�

Salazar nodded, accepting her lie. “Would you like more wine?�

“Yes please,� she said, her voice little more than a croak.



The feasting continued early into the morning. She discovered the other humans had been swept up by the riders of the Sidhe as they rode out across the night. Their bodies would be left slumbering where they had been found, while their spiritual manifestations gradually unbent and imbibed enough alcohol to chase away their fears. Salazar surprised her by dancing far more than he had suggested he would, and he proved to be very good at it. Godric and Helga had made time for her, both proving to be entertaining friends.

It was her true entrance into a world that filled her days with interest and new learning. The following day she had spent the morning with Helga, had acquired a wand, and been taught basic spells. It bemused her at first that she could make things happen so quickly with just a swing of this stick of wood and a few muttered words. She made a good pupil and learned at a rapid rate. Cuchulain taught her how to wield a bow and arrow, although she was not quite so quick to pick this skill up and many of her arrows fell short of the mark. Her skill with a needle and thread was equally uncertain and she was happiest to be back with her wand and parchments, which she found she could read without need for instruction.

The days tumbled quickly over one another and she barely noticed the gradual disappearance of the guests. It was only when the humans stolen by the Host were sent away, most reluctantly, it must be said, did she realise that her time too was coming to an end here.

Her father, who had tried his best to make a connection with his lost daughter, came to her room on the evening of what was to be her last day. She had packed many of the things she had acquired into a large pack, and it sat ready for the journey. Her plan had been to go to bed early and meet with the other three when her ceiling reflected daybreak down on her and woke her from her sleep.

Midhir entered her room with a look of great apology on his face. She bade him to sit and he did so, watching her carefully as she sat opposite him and folded her hands on her lap.

“You have learned much in your time with us,� he commented. “Much magic is now taking up residence in your mind and this is reflected in everything you do. Already you move with grace worthy of your heritage.�

She had not yet called him father to his face; indeed, it felt improper to do so. Her father was dead. Yet, she felt that his name was not enough. Whatever had occurred between her mother and this man had produced her; he was owed more than just his name.

“My heritage has been slow to find me,� she said after a pause. “Now that it has, I feel its benefit greatly. I have grown more than I could imagine over these past days and I am only sorry I was not ready for this earlier.�

“You would never have been ready had Cuchulain not brought you here. It would have taken that oaf of a man to batter you into subservience and still you would not have believed what life could hold for you.� He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You see, we are immortal and we have a long time to live with our mistakes. We are spoken about by human kind and it is said by them that we do suffer death, but that is not true. I did not err from my wife but twice. You were the child that would have remained lost to me had you not been brought back and now I must let you go again.�

“Will I be as you are?� Rowena had never contemplated immortality before; it was not something her family believed in unless you happened to be one of the angels or God himself.

“Will you be immortal? It is not for me to say, or for you to know. Only time will answer that question. Cuchulain was half human and half Sidhe and was returned to us when he was finally slain in your world. Perhaps we will see you here permanently one day.�

Rowena bowed her head, unsure if she really wanted to spend an eternity here. Aife was a sweet person, and Cuchulain, once he had stopped looking at her in a lascivious manner, had proved a good ally and a comforting friend. Forever seemed like a painfully long time, despite these wonderful people. Forever might make her hate them.

“Will I see you again?�

“Not when you leave here. When you leave here it will be to join the human race again, my child. I will have no need to visit you, nor you I.�

“Must there be a reason. I feel I do not know you and yet you sired me.�

“A sire does not always have the honour of knowing its offspring. I have been luckier than most. Take this.� He pulled a small book from his pocket; so small that it nestled happily in the palm of his hand.

It was bound in pale leather, gilt framing the covers and dusting the parchment edges with brightness. She took it and opened the front cover. What she saw made her gasp. It was an image of Brú Na Bóinne as she saw it. Turning pages each contained an image: the great hall; her room; Aife at her sewing; Cuchulain wresting with an opponent; the great Yule log burning fiercely. All perfect representations of the reality.

“Keep it safe with you, child, and no mater how far away from us you feel, it will always be there to comfort you.�

The final page contained an image of Rowena on her first night here, white-clad and bewildered. There was a look of such rapture on her face that she finally realised how much she had always loved this place, even though she had been aware of its existence for such a short period of time.

“I spent many of my childhood time looking out for fairies and watching their world. How could I have known I had a fairy heart myself?�

“You knew it in your longing for the magical. You knew it because there was always something more for you. I watched you a lot as a child, whenever I could escape my responsibilities here. You were and are an exceptional being, My Rowena. Build this school and make others as strong with their magic as you shall be. And let all enter those doors; turn away none who show magical ability.�

“Of course.� She looked at him, feeling tears well in her eyes. Salazar’s contempt for tears came back to her and she stilled her lower lip. “Is this to be us then? I have you gifted to me and then taken away. I did not even have the chance to know you, Father.� The word would not be held in check any longer and fell onto grateful ears.

“Let us be glad we had these moments,� he said. “For without them we would be ignorant of each other and poorer for that. You must go and create your own magic and I must stay here. It will not be well for me to continually interrupt your life, for if you see me again you will feel such a need to return here that I fear you would do something rash.�

“I would not have believed such fancy before my arrival here, but now I do. I understand what I must do. I will not let you down.� Rowena tilted her chin up and smiled. It felt good to have a path to follow, even if she had no idea where that path would lead her.

“I know you will do the best you can.� He stood as if to go and then, half-turning, stayed. “I have love for you, Rowena Ravenclaw, even if I cannot claim to know you as well as I ought.�

“And I for you, Father.�

With a nod, he finally managed to take his leave of her and the last image she had was of a proud and handsome man walking through a door with his back stiff and head erect – while inside him something appeared to slump.




Their belongings were so few that each was able to carry them on their own backs. Rowena’s wand and few books nestled with dresses in the pack that currently weighed against her back. They were to ride on the backs of Sidhe horses with Sidhe riders taking the reins, going back together through the veil of a new dawn. She found herself clutching the waist of a young man who smiled down on her and made her so sad to think she would see this place no more. The horse was a fine one, shifting smoothly beneath them. Salazar looked less than comfortable at not being the one to hold the reins, trying his best not to look bothered by the fact he was not in control. Helga held on to her rider and giggled at something he said, while Godric sat still and confident on the back of a bay mare whose rider reined in hard.

Aife had come to say goodbye, crying a little and tucking an embroidered belt into Rowena’s pack as she made to leave her. Cuchulain had been slightly more optimistic.

“They say I am not to visit you for fear that you will return and abandon your mission in your world, but I will find a way to make you see that you are not abandoned by the Sidhe.� He was atop his own horse, a huge mare known as the Grey of Macha. “Look for the animal, and you will know.�

He smiled and moved the horse on; her last vision of him was golden hair flashing beneath a bright sun.

And the time had come. The animals strained, were released, their hooves growing progressively louder as they began to churn at the earth. The world moved faster, ever faster, and the green of the land merged with the blue of the sky until Rowena had to close her eyes against the dizzying spectrum.




All was still. The first sense to tell her that they had arrived was smell, as she inhaled the pine scent of fresh mountainside. Her ears spoke of water, water being played with by a soft breeze, and then her sight rushed in and announced that they were back in Scotland.

Everywhere was white-tipped green. A hoar frost had claimed the grass and branches, yet there was no deep snow. Buds were on the trees and she could see the beginnings of snowdrops testing the air with their budding heads. They had lost time, and many months if nature spoke the truth.

She turned and found Salazar, Godric and Helga staring at the scene before them, each with their own thoughts occupying their minds.

“What’s the first thing we must do?� she asked, making the silence take flight. Being in the rath had been one thing, but now they were in a landscape they recognised, everything suddenly felt much more uncertain.

“We build a shelter,� Salazar said, looking at her with calm purpose. “And then we build the school.�

“Hogwarts,� Rowena whispered and looked at the cliff that rose above the lake. “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Home.�


And at that moment, Rowena knew she had finally found home.