The next room Helga entered looked completely blank, void of all feelings. The walls were a grey, rocky and badly hewn. The floor and ceiling were of the same rock. When Helga closed the door behind her, she watched it immediately mold into the wall and disappear. Looking ahead, Helga expected to find the next door.
But there wasn’t one.
Helga gazed about the room, searching for an elusive door. There had to be a door, there was always a door! Helga could feel herself becoming frantic and began to take deep, calming breaths. There was something about this room that made her feel claustrophobic, as if there wasn’t enough air to supply her thirsty lungs.
The walls were moving in. Helga noticed it in a flash and could feel the panic coming back full blast. The walls were creeping slowly together, and there wasn’t a door.
Helga! she screamed to herself. You’re a witch; use your bleeding common sense! Taking a few gulps of air, Helga began pacing the perimeter, noting each time she made a lap there seemed to be fewer walking space. After a few minutes, she hurriedly took out her wand and exclaimed, “Point Me!”
The thin strip of wood spun in her hand and pointed straight ahead of her, through the wall she had just passed through. That meant that the door had to be on the opposite wall. She quickly scuttled to it and began muttering spells and ancient Latin tongues under her breath. She knew the door was here somewhere, she just had to find it. She ran her hands over the wall, not caring in the slightest when they turned ruby red from being rubbed raw.
The walls were drawing closer.
Helga could feel her breathing speeding up. There wasn’t much time left, and there were few spells she hadn’t yet used. Sweat was streaking down her brow and into her eyes, making the orbs burn dully. The air was getting hotter. It was becoming harder to breathe, harder to think.
Finally, a gold outline appeared in the center of what was left of the wall. Crying out in relief, Helga screamed, “Alohomora!” The door opened a crack and Helga threw her body against the stone, pushing it open inch by inch. Just as the walls were nearly upon her, she was able to fit her average body through the door. Crying into her hands, Helga could feel her hysteria slowly leak out of her.
She had made it.
The room Helga entered next was unlike any she had seen so far. The walls were clad in a soft golden paper, and there was a cozy, roaring fireplace. The rug on the floor felt fluffy beneath her feet, and was sewn in red and gold. The warm colours instantly made her drowsy. In front of the fire sat a large, squashy armchair. It looked almost overly stuffed, with cotton leaking out of a few various holes. The chair was so inviting, almost beckoning her to it. Her eyes were getting heavier, and she let herself drift to the chair. She had been walking for such a long time, after all. She thought she deserved a break.
Climbing into the chair, Helga let herself succumb into its squishy folds, allowing it to wrap around her like a blanket. The fire felt so good on her skin, she wondered how she would ever leave. There wasn’t anything she wanted more than to fall asleep and never wake up again in this comfortable chair.
Letting her eyes fall shut, Helga had just begun to snooze when a loud voice jerked her from her sleep. She lifted her heavy eyelids and gazed around before her gaze stopped on the fire. There, staring out at her, sat Rowena Ravenclaw. And for the first time in two weeks, Helga didn't feel the bitter taste of hatred on her tongue. All she felt was peace.
“Helga…” Rowena’s voice came out slowly, garbled. Helga shook her head and found her hearing was dull, like she was underwater. She shook her head harder and opened her eyes to their fullest extent. Rowena really was there, staring hopefully out of the fireplace.
“Rowena…what are you doing here?” Helga asked, her voice still muffled from sleep.
“I don’t know why exactly, but I had a feeling that I would find you here. I just wanted to ask…if you are able to forgive me for what happened…” Rowena’s voice shook with uncertainty. Helga could see tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes. She could feel tears in her own eyes as well.
Pushing herself out of the chair, Helga knelt down by the fireside and looked Rowena in the eye before saying, “I forgive…but why did you do it?”
Rowena sighed in relief, and Helga could tell she was happy. Helga herself felt as though a weight had been lifted off of her heart. She stared into Rowena’s black orbs before the head in the fireplace sighed again and answered, “Because I thought you were stealing Godric away from me. I know it was incredibly petty, and that I should have asked it of you. I know now I have ruined what could have been between you and Godric. When the two of you would wander off, I would be consumed with so much jealousy, and I would confide in Salazar. I think…”
“That Salazar was in love with you,” Helga finished, nodding. Tears were blossoming from behind her brown eyes. “You thought that by confiding in him, he would talk to Godric and put a stop to what we had, but he ended up taking it too far.”
Rowena nodded and the both of them cried and apologized profusely. When the two had dried their tears, Rowena said, “You must continue on, Helga. What it is you seek lies just a tad bit further. Do not be strayed off the task.”
Helga knew she could not return to the chair that was waiting just behind her, and knew it had been placed there to lure her away from her task. She didn't even know if there was a task anymore, seeing as she wasn't set out for murder anymore. Maybe her task had been all along to forgive Rowena. Nodding, Helga climbed to her feet and made her way to the next door.
The pressure was immediate. It was hard, lung-collapsing pressure. Helga couldn’t breath, she felt as though her lungs had been expelled of all air. Her eyes were being pushed back into their sockets. She was surrounded by darkness, so black she couldn’t even see her own hand. Helga tried to breathe, but there wasn’t any air to take in. She began to panic.
Lurching backwards, she tried to fumble with the door, but she found that there is no door. There was no way she could escape this room; this room where she would surely die.
I’m going to die, Helga thought, panic completely taking over her mind. She tried to run forward, but found that she was unable to move anymore. Suddenly, a noise just to her left caught Helga attention, and she was able to struggle forward toward it. She wasn’t frightened in the least. She just wanted an escape. Reaching out, she felt the cool sensation of a glass bottle. She wanted to cry, but her eyes were pushed so far back into her skull she wasn’t even able to blink, let alone shed tears. How on earth was she going to be able to survive for more than a few minutes? Had she forgiven Rowena for nothing? Had she embarked on this underground journey just to reach the possibly last room to die?
Gripping the bottle as tightly as she could, she could feel the pressure around her growing harder. Her hands were slicked with sweat, and the bottle slipped. Throwing herself to the ground, Helga began to fumble in the darkness. She couldn’t understand why, but she knew that she needed that bottle.
Just as she was about to give up hope and allow herself to sink into an eternal blackness, her sticky palms gripped the glass, and she squeezed it so hard…it broke.
Immediately, she felt the pressure grow slightly stronger before easing away completely. Standing up, Helga took in great gulps of air, filling her lungs so full she felt they may burst. Looking around, she found that she was in another room, and relief washed over her. As much as she would rather be out of these catacombs, she would rather find herself in another room than be dead.
Standing in front of her were two tunnels. One branched off to what she supposed was north-west, while the other snaked north-east. Raising her wand, Helga muttered the point spell and it swiveled to face the north-west tunnel. She knew this had to be the right one. Never had her wand led her astray. Walking briskly, Helga entered the tunnel and felt a familiar rushing sound in her ears. She felt a familiar feeling, as though she was being pressed through a long rubber tube, before she fell upon the grass.
Long, thick, sweet grass filled her nostrils. It was damp, meaning it was surely nighttime. Helga could sense a cool breeze dancing above her head, and she lifted her face to the wind. Climbing unsteadily to her feet, Helga saw that she was standing near the lake to her home, Hogwarts, and standing in front of her was a black haired maiden, tall and willowy. Lurching across the ground, Helga launched herself at the woman, wrapping her in a bone-crushing hug before kissing both of her cheeks. The woman laughed gaily and returned the greeting. The two began crying tears of joy before locking hands and walking up the hill toward the castle.
Helga’s journey, she knew, had taught her more than the arts of killing, which was what she had been after. It had taught her the meaning of forgiveness. She had truly found what she had been looking for in those many rooms. And although the hurt would always be there, Helga knew she would slowly be able to move past it. And that was a journey worth taking.
Helga's Journey: A Story of Forgiveness by beauty and brains
Chapter Notes: Last chapter of the trilogy for my first Gauntlet Challenge.