“Incendia congelo,” I said angrily, waving my wand over the stubbornly hot candle for what must have been the fiftieth time that day. The wax suddenly stopped dripping onto the floor of the hayloft, and my spirits soared for a moment. Maybe the charm had finally worked… Tentatively, I stuck a small strand of hay into the flame, holding my breath.
“Ouch!” I yelped as the hay caught fire and singed my finger. Cursing, I dropped the offending bit of hay, and leapt up before the loft caught fire, stomping the fire out quickly. I sat back down and rifled through the pages of Moste Potente Magyk, the book Godric and Salazar had found.
A light footstep startled me and I spun around, nearly toppling into the hay. It was only Salazar.
“Hello,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry if I startled you,”
“That’s fine,” I replied as he sat down beside me, and stared at the book on the floor.
“Are you still trying to freeze the fire?” he asked, looking at the candle. I nodded.
“I’ve figured out the incantation. You just have to say what you want in Latin, and concentrate on what’s going to happen. The hard part is channeling your magic so that it’s focused and directed on what you want to do. I’ve tried a stone, and then a wooden wand, but it’s still not working,” I explained. He was reading a few paragraphs at the top of the open book.
“It says here that if you find certain substance- like an herb- to channel the magic into, it works better. Have you tried that?” he said absently, eyes still glued to the book.
“No,” I said, surprised. “Give me that.” I grabbed the book off of the floor and Salazar frowned at me, clearly annoyed that I’d interrupted him. I reread the top paragraphs, ignoring his glare, and gave a cry of delight.
“You’re a genius! I bet this will work,” I said, grinning jubilantly at him. He smiled smugly back.
“What herb are you going to try?” he asked.
“I don’t know…” I mused quietly. “Do you think thyme might work? That’s supposed to help you see faeries, so maybe it can improve the magic’s potency. And we have plenty of it.”
“I don’t see why not,” he replied. “Just try it.” He scrambled down from the loft, presumably to find the thyme where we kept herbs in the back of the barn. I peered over the edge of the loft, waiting. He reappeared almost instantly, breathing slightly heavier than normal. He grabbed the wand from where I had discarded it in frustration on the floor, tying the thyme messily around it with a bit of white string he produced from his pocket.
I took the wand and grasped it tightly in my hand, concentrating very hard on what I wanted to do. Holding the stone a few inches above the candle, I whispered the incantation.
It was as though a sudden rush of power surged through me and the wand in my hand. I could hear Salazar gasp beside me as the wand suddenly glowed white hot, and the fire instantly stopped radiating heat. Hardly daring to believe it, I stuck another bit of hay in the flames.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. The hay was completely unblemished. I allowed the candle flame to lick my fingers, and I felt no pain. Letting out a whoop of jubilation, I held the candle up so the flame ticked Salazar’s nose. He flinched, but he wasn’t burned.
“It worked!!” I screeched delightedly, jumping to my feet. Salazar did too, as excited as I was. I jumped up and down, still screeching, and shoving the candle flame everywhere I could reaching, celebrating the fact that everything remained untouched.
“You did it,” Salazar said, grinning widely and grabbing both my hands in his. “I knew you would.” Unexpectedly, he leaned over and kissed my cheek, turning slightly pink, but still beaming.
“It’s all about believing,” I said, positively shaking with excitement. “And I definitely believe.”
“Rowena,”
I turned over in bed, giving a halfhearted moan. There was a voice intruding my dreams, and although it sounded rather authorative, I didn’t care. I wanted it to go away.
“Go… away,” I mumbled indistinctly into my mattress. Now something was prodding my shoulder. I wanted that to go away too.
“I will not go away. Get up already. We’re not going to get there in time!”
I turned over again and opened my eyes, shielding them with my arm as the early morning sun hit my face. Salazar’s features swam into view, his dark brow blurry. I blinked once and he came slowly into full focus. I grinned up at him briefly, and then remembered where I was.
“Salazar!!” I practically exploded. “I’m still in my nightdress. You’re in my bedroom! You are going to be in so much trouble if anyone finds you here. Get out so I can get dressed.”
“Sorry,” he said, his ears going red. “I just needed to get you out of bed. We have only two hours before we have to go help Helga.”
“Fine,” I said. “I’m getting up.” Salazar left the room quickly so I could get ready.
When I was properly dressed and cleaned, I met the boys in the dining room, where we ate a hasty breakfast, and headed out to the stables. We had an hour before we had to leave for Helga’s execution, and I still had to show Godric the spell I had finally worked out with Salazar’s help.
Godric was appropriately impressed with the spell I had managed to pull off, but he had his doubts.
“Are you sure you’ll be able to freeze all the flames in the bonfire? A fire that’s meant to kill someone is bound to be a lot bigger than a candle,” he said, his brow wrinkling. I frowned.
“I hope so. It’s the best I can do,” I replied.
We arrived for the execution just as the fire was being made. We didn’t try to get in and see Helga, because we wanted there to be no doubt that we hadn’t interfered with the trial and punishment. I watched as several gigantic soldiers piled wood into a large fire ring, in the center of which was a stake and a small platform.
There were people crowded into the square, clearly eager to watch the execution of an “evil servant of the devil”. I stared around at the enraptured faces, disgusted. Why on earth would anyone want to watch someone die, even if that person did deserve it?
The moment the church bells chimed noon, the doors to the jail opened, and the nasty man, Peter, appeared, dragging Helga behind him.
Helga was screaming and sobbing in fear, even though she knew we were there. The fact still remained that she was about to get up on the tiny platform and the soldiers were going to set fire to the pile of oily wood around her.
“NOOOO! PLEASE HAVE MERCY!” she screamed, her fists flailing and hitting every inch of Peter that she could reach. “Have mercy…” she finished, more quietly, wiping her runny nose on the sleeve of her dress. Peter looked disgusted and he slapped her soundly across the face, leaving an additional red mark among her bruises from past beatings. She stopped sobbing and glowered at him, continuing to beat his arms with her fists, as though determined to inflict as much misery on him as she possibly could before walking onto the platform.
A few soldiers walked over to assist Peter in negotiating a still hysterical Helga into the fire pit, while a few more tied her securely against the stake. She was staring around the square, her tangled hair falling in her face, looking tragic, lost and hopeless.
But then she spotted us. I caught her eyes in mine, and gave her the most supportive look I could possibly muster, trying to convey strength and hope as much as I could. She gave me the tiniest of nods and the shadow of a smile. Godric and Salazar were watching her hopefully as well. She immediately stopped crying and stared resolutely into the crowd.
Everyone seemed slightly unnerved by her change in behavior, but they were even more unnerved when she looked over at Peter, who was holding the torch to light the bonfire, and spat in his face.
“I’m ready. I don’t care anymore,” she said as Peter wiped her spit away from his nose.
I watched, as if in slow motion, as Peter’s hand brought the torch down to touch the nearest log. The fire began, spreading slowly along the logs, crackling and smoking slightly. Helga remained with her head up, her eyes straight ahead, looking like the picture of trusting bravery.
My time had come. I could smell the bit of acrid smoke that was now rising from the fire. Salazar grabbed my hand and squeezed it, as if to say Now!. I raised my wand, concentrating harder than I had every done in my life.
I believe, I believe, I believe.
“Incendia congelo, ” I whispered.
The fire continued to burn. The flames licked Helga’s legs, but she did not scream. The fire couldn’t hurt her. As the fire worked its way up her body, it continued to leave her unburned.
Then Helga did something I am sure no one has ever done at an execution. She laughed. Her laugh was full-throated and beautiful, even in the face of death. I saw Godric watching her, love evident in his face. The sound was beautiful, and it brought a tear to my eye and a giggle into my throat. Salazar still hadn’t let go of my hand.
Dumbfounded, one of the soldiers threw a bucket of water on the flames, quenching them instantly. The square stood still and silent, except for Helga’s laughter.
“She is God,” whispered one slack-jawed bystander. I stepped forward, followed by Salazar and Godric.
“No,” I said, loudly enough so that everyone could hear me. “Helga is not God. She has magic.”
So, my friends, that is the account of the rediscovery of magic. It is real, and it is accessible to only those who believe. There are already some every day who come to us to hear of the magic. There are already some who believe enough to use this wonderful and terrible power. We have big plans, and we’re going to do great things. Keep watch for us, and for anything that seems out of the ordinary, because it may just be magic…
We are:
Salazar Slytherin, the powerful.
Helga Hufflepuff, the kind.
Godric Gryffindor, the bold.
Rowena Ravenclaw, the wise.
And we definitely believe.
Only Those Who Believe by smiley10792
Chapter Notes: Here it is- the final chapter! Enjoy. I know some people have had questions about how exactly the magic works in this fic. If you have any questions at all, please feel free to review, or just click contact on my author's page.
All stuff you recognize is JKR's...you know the drill