Rowena sat up slowly, and rubbed her temples to ease the ache that throbbed behind them. She took a deep breath and looked around her, trying to remember exactly where she was, and what she was doing.
She started; this world was entirely different from the one she had fallen asleep in. She looked at the strange street lamps that were not illuminated by flame, but by a glass fixture of some sort. The street was not cobbled, but paved. She shook her head, though it was very undignified, to clear it of the incessant buzzing that rang in her ears and made it difficult to think. She walked to a dark store window and peered through the frosty glass at funny little boxes with metal sticks poking out of them. Where in the world was she?
And almost as importantly, how had she gotten here, wherever here was exactly? She remembered eating dinner and had just been about to go to bed, but she couldn’t remember anything after. Salazar jumped to her mind but she had no clue what that could mean.
Suddenly, she was afraid. She had no idea where her wand was, she was in the middle of a foreign country, one possibly not in the same time period, and she hadn’t an inkling of how to get home. Rowena shivered from the cold. She needed warmer clothing. Her airy dressing would provide her with no shelter here in this snow-covered world.
She drew her clothes tighter around her as a breath of frigid wind brushed her into awareness. She looked around, startled by the realisation that she could quite possibly die of cold. The dark night didn’t help the slowly creeping dread that filled her as her eyes cast about the lamp-lit street. She decided standing still wouldn’t help, and so she began to walk; where, she didn’t know.
She froze as a loud popping noise echoed in the night. It sounded as though someone had stepped on a twig, and she did not mistake it for the crunch of ice under her (thankfully) clad feet. There it was again. And again! Ten little pops in quick succession rang throughout the empty street and ten men stepped from the shadows dressed in robes as black as the night around them; their masks struck another bout of fear into her heart.
“It’s about time, Rowena,” said one of them in a cold drawl. Then they pounced.
She awoke slowly, a blanket of warmth enveloping her in a manner almost smothering. Around her, all was blackness, and despite the security of the warmth, her heart fluttered with uncertainty. She shook herself. She was Rowena Ravenclaw; she did not feel uncertainty. She was the logic.
‘Where am I?’ she thought tentatively, not trusting herself to speak. Her lids fluttered open and she found herself hovering in extreme darkness. Yet she felt something cold against her back. ‘What could that be?’ she thought. It was so hard to believe just an hour ago she had been at home, in her warm bed, reading one of her countless books. And then Salazar had come in, and”she couldn’t remember.
“Salazar,” she whispered sweetly, caressing the name on her tongue. She closed her eyes once again. They jerked open when a sharp pinch grasped behind her right eye.
“It seems sleeping beauty is finally awake,” hissed a menacing voice. The warmth around her dissolved in an instant, the inky blackness that surrounded her went with it.
“Salazar?” she said again, though this time it was more of a question. The voice sounded like Salazar’s and it had the same hint of coldness, yet it wasn’t his. Or at least he’d never talked to her in such a way before. She tried to lift a hand to her eye, to drive out the intense pain, and found she could barely move. She shook her head and heard the chink of metal as it echoed off the stone beneath her. ‘So the cold thing was an immense stone table’ she thought to herself.
An eerie chuckle resonated throughout the room. “No,” said the same voice in her ear “I’m not quite your dear Salazar, though he too will be joining us. It’s too bad that Godric had to miss the party, but Helga will be here too.” Another sharp pinch behind her eye alerted her to the fact the man was probing in her mind. She started to throw up a barrier against him. “Put her on her knees, my Death Eaters,” he commanded.
She felt her wrists tugged upward by an unheard spell until she was standing. She dropped to her knees as another forced her down. A hand pinned her arm behind her back. “Do you have any idea what’s going to happen here tonight?” The voice asked.
She raised her head high. “I will not answer a single question unless you reveal yourself,” Rowena said defiantly. A candle was lit in front of her as the man stepped into her view. She wished she hadn’t said anything.
“Let go of her, Wormtail,” said the most frightful man she had ever seen. The scarlet eyes drove a spear of fear through her heart. The hand that pinned her released its firm metallic grip. “Finite Incantatem,” he said. The metal chains on her wrists fell away and the pinch behind her eye stopped. He grabbed her by her hair and pulled her up so she was only inches from his face, “What could I do to make you scream? Cry?” he asked softly, dangerously.
“I will not cry for you, nor will I scream,” she spat.
“Then what can you do for me my dear?” he whispered, his mouth against her ear, as though they were sharing a secret. The pinch behind her eye came back and she saw Salazar, kissing her neck, tenderly, beautifully, as her eyes sparkled in the light of the dying sun. She put the barrier up again and he relinquished his grip.
“Who are you?” she asked hesitantly. Any man who could get at her most personal memories, memories she hid as far away from her as she could, was worthy of a name. He laughed in that same dangerous manner as before.
“I am the man, no”god, for I cannot die, who will haunt you’re nightmares until you cannot sleep for fear I will be waiting for you. I am the one who will kill you without cause and not be bothered by it. I am the one who will destroy you. I am Lord Voldemort. These are my Death Eaters,” he finished as an after thought.
He dropped her and she fell to the ground. “You seem more like a tyrant to me,” Rowena said calmly. ‘Master your emotions; prove you aren’t afraid of him,’ said a voice in her head. She was the logic, and she was not to be toyed with. Or rather, she could be toyed with as long as she held the advantage in the end. To do that, she needed to be calm, confident, fearless. She needed a bit of Godric in her.
Lord Voldemort came to her again, his wand extended. “Maybe I am a tyrant,” he said just as calmly, “but you have something I need. Wormtail roll up that gossamer sleeve, I need a bit of her flesh.”
You are the leaf that he would catch,
You are the candle to which he would hold the match,
You are what he most desires,
You will pit him against the liars,
You will give me the cards for a winning hand,
And give me the control that I demand.
The moment his wand touched her skin, those words, like a wisp of smoke, clouded her vision. Was she in a white room? No, it had been nearly pitch black but a moment ago. A spell had to have been cast. Was it to imprison her here? For how long?
And those words, what could they mean? Was she supposed to be some sort of leverage against someone? She breathed the word aloud, “Leverage?” she questioned.
The white faded from view and she was in the grim dungeon once more.
As the room ebbed from her vision, she started. The same figures that had brought her here were oozing from the shadows like blood from a fresh wound. A fire was lit, and at it’s hearth a snake of coal imprisoned in a skull.
“Cruor, acerbitas, contumelia,” they chanted like a merry“go-round that was picking up speed. Faster and faster and over and over they chanted, so fast that the words faded from them and the black robed men became a thriving, frenzied mob from which spouted a hum that would drive any man sane. Rowena would have covered her ears, but her arms were held firmly by Death Eaters. She looked around frantically for escape, and finding nothing but the mass of people and black cloaks she withdrew into herself.
“Salazar,” she breathed.
And then the chanting suddenly stopped, for their Dark Lord was ready. He reached his bare hands into the white-hot ash as though it was sand and pulled out the skull. “Transformo haec erinys pungere iet.” It shrivelled into a black smoke that swirled around both Rowena and Lord Voldemort. With a final cry, he shouted “Cedere!” and his abnormally long wand pressed against the skin of her left arm.
She screamed in pain as the smoke entered her skin, spreading until it turned into the ugly tattoo that would forever mark her…
They unceremoniously threw her limp form into a dank, dark room. She shivered slightly, hugging her lame left arm to her chest. She looked again at the sick tattoo that stained her skin. Why was she even here? She hadn’t done anything to get here. Or to get this. She lay down on the floor in a fetal position and tried to remember. There had been Salazar, a flash of red light and then nothing.
A slight knock echoed throughout the room and Rowena scrambled to hide the paperwork and blueprints she had found. “Rowena?” came Salazar’s soft voice through the oak wood.
“Come in,” she said, putting on a false smile to mask the fear the plans she had found instilled. Salazar entered and drew his wand. “What is that for Salazar?” she asked brazenly looking at the ebony wood. He didn’t say a word, just walked up to her slowly and kissed her softly on the cheek. She blushed slightly. As soon as he withdrew, she opened her mouth to tell him off, but he held a finger to her lips, quieting her.
“I’m sorry for this,” he said sweetly as a question dawned in her eyes. And then the lurid, red light danced across her vision and she was no more. He held her body in his arms and carried her to the feather bed and laid her upon it, just like he would do to Helga in mere minutes. He opened her mouth slightly and poured in some of the liquid in the vial he carried around his neck.
She faded slowly, first the colour left her, and then the dimension, and she was gone.
“Good-bye my love,” he whispered, “we shall meet again.”
He walked solemnly out of the room and into Helga’s.
Rowena shivered again and rolled over. A stifled sob echoed off the walls. It wasn't hers.
"Helga?" she called into the inky blackness.
“Rowena? Is that you?” said a fear-ravaged voice a few feet in front of her. Rowena scrambled to her feet and rushed forward to hug her companion.
“Oh, Helga,” Rowena cried happily, as she felt her friend’s face with her right hand. “As much as I’m glad to have a friend here, I wish you were home.” They clung to each other for a few minutes.
The door creaked open and a man called them out. They jumped in fright as the sound punctured the almost-friendly silence that had filled the room. They stood up slowly, tentatively, leaving reluctantly.
After marching through an endless maze of tunnels, they were soon in front of Voldemort. There were several men in cloaks surrounding him who parted upon their entrance. “I have something I need you to do for me,” he said softly. Helga slipped her hand into Rowena’s in apprehension, squeezing it tightly. “To retrieve an item of sorts.”
He beckoned Helga towards him and she walked forward. “If you get it for me, she may be alive when you come back.” His Death Eaters grabbed Helga and held her tight. Rowena ran forward, but she was quickly restrained. “Here’s a wand, and your portkey,” he said casually, tossing them to the floor in front of her. Rowena’s eyes welled with tears as she gathered them up. “You’ll know the item when you get to it.”
“I’ll be back soon Helga,” she said quickly, grabbing the manky old watch before a tear cold be shed.
She arrived at a lakeshore; in the middle of the lake she could see a small island, probably where she needed to get to. She wiped away the tears; she needed to think logically and emotions wouldn’t help her. She had kicked of her shoes about ready to swim out into the lake when she saw them: the Kappas. The webbed-handed monkeys wove in and out of the reeds that blanketed the floor of the lake.
She put her shoes back on and drew the wand. “Glacio,” she cried and the lake froze over before her eyes. She took a tentative step onto the slippery surface before beginning on her treacherous trek across the frozen land.
The glassy surface was more slippery under her feet than she had thought it would be. She slid precariously over the surface, feeling as though she was more underwater than anything else. Her heart raced as she stumbled and fell about half way across and the ice splintered under her. She walked a bit more carefully afterwards, but the crack followed her until she reached the island, her heart beating faster with every crackle of the spreading ice.
A giant snake sat coiled around a pillar in the centre. It snoozed in a peaceful slumber as Rowena cowered in terror. Her eyes froze with the shock of it. She tried to find something in the bowels of her mind: seeking something to fight it. She looked around in search of something to help her.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, was the sound echoed throughout the enclosed space. Rowena looked for its source. Crunch.
“Rowena?” the question rang.
“Salazar.”
***
“Rowena, wake up,” came the sound of Helga’s voice. Rowena sat up slowly, the blankets falling off with a whisper of displaced air. “You’ve had a fever all night, dear,” said Helga in a worried tone, “can’t imagine the dreams you must’ve had….”
Was that all it was? Had it all been simply a dream? Rowena glanced down at her arm for reassurance. All she found was a scar…
A snake.