"Look at what you have been reduced to!"
My words echo throughout the hall as the heated argument stops. The two men look up at me, then throw each other a scathing glare. Godric and Salazar release each other and begin to straighten and rearrange their clothing.
Helga's soft cry is all that can be heard now. Salazar and Godric both begin to glare at me.
"Look at yourselves! You are supposed to be teachers--friends! People to look up to! And yet, here you are, three words away from a duel." Godric bows his head. Salazar meets my eyes and holds them. "What would Aldan have thought of this? You are friends, for heaven's sake, start acting it!"
With that, I turn from them, and walk out of the room, leading Helga out.
"Do you think he meant what he said…? About leaving, I mean." She pulls out a handkerchief and dabs her eye. My heart clenches at the thought of Salazar’s departure.
"I do not know, dear. I hope not." I pat Helga on the shoulder, then walk briskly to my room. I shut the door and sit down heavily on the bed.
I take a deep breath, trying to quell the rushing of blood through my veins. Why are two friends”friends who have spent years in each other’s company”threatening to tear apart the very foundations on which the school was built? Why has the ever-present friendship continued to evaporate as we watch? I feel hot tears well up in my eyes. This only serves to infuriate me more.
They should not be causing this. This school was built on compromise and friendship. How could the school”our school! -- stand when these have been ripped away? I am pacing and I hate them. Hate them more than I have ever hated anyone in my life. Godric and Salazar have forgotten what Aldan taught us. They have forgotten everything that he ever tried to teach us. And I hate them for it.
The tears escape my eyes, slipping down my cheeks silently, before I wipe them away impatiently. I lean back against the wall, let my head roll back and hit it with a thud. Despite this newly found hatred pulsing through my veins, I find myself longing for a shoulder to rest my head on.
But how can I profess to hate the man I love above all else?
Aldan would know.
"How did you do it?" I ask the empty air. "How did you manage to keep yourself in perfect balance, when all we can seem to do is quarrel?"
Letting out a long stream of air, I sit back down on the bed, calmly this time, then close my eyes to steady myself. If I continue with this mindless hatred and anger, and encourage what my friends have started, everything will fall apart.
I barely hear the knock on my door before Helena sticks her head in. I force the conflicting emotions off my features and smile at the sight of my daughter. I open my arms and she climbs into my lap. Her pale hand reaches up to wipe away the tears I did not realise were falling. “Why are you crying, mother?” she asks. I get the feeling that she knows why; I tell her anyway.
“Because your father is acting completely irrational,” I answer. I brush a strand of hair from her face. It is strange for me to see a cold, calculating edge in such young eyes. She is already so much like her father. Would Salazar leave his child when she so desperately needs her father? One look into her eyes should be enough to convince him.
Her vivid green eyes are a true window to her soul. A soul as similar to her father's, as her mind is to mine.
Where would she be without him? How would he ever leave, after he is reminded of what he must leave behind?
His love for me may not keep him, but surely his bond with Helena…
"Come on, darling, it's past time you were asleep," I tell her as I lift her into my arms.
"But I'm not tired, Mother," Helena argues as she stifles a yawn.
"Of course not, dear, but a bed time is a bed time." I rest my cheek on the top of her head. "Let's go say goodnight to your father."
She nods sullenly into my shoulder.
It's a wonder how much more whole you can feel even as your world crashes and burns all around you. How much more I feel I achieved despite impending failure. When I hold my baby girl in my hands…
This school, which will be the best place for learning, will offer a rich education for any young wizard who wishes to learn. My life's work--the place I walk through and admire...and yet the head of light-brown curls resting on my shoulder is more of a triumph than any of it.
I wonder if I will be able to look at her after he is gone.
If she will be able to look at me.
I bring my hand up and knock on the door of the room that was once partially mine.
"Yes?" a cold voice calls from inside.
"May we come in?" I ask. "Helena wants to say goodnight."
"Of course." I open the door and put Helena down. She runs to her father and hugs him. He picks her up and sets her on his lap. "Were you a good girl today?" he asks her.
"Yes, Father," she says with a grin.
He gives her a kiss on the forehead. "Good night, darling," he says in that deep, sweet voice he reserves for her, and once, for me.
Imitating her father, as she always does, she lowers his head so the top is within her reach, and then gives it a kiss.
"Goodnight, Father," she intones. As his face comes back within my sight, I see he is smiling. He puts her down.
"Run along to bed, Helena," he says. She immediately obeys, only stopping to give me a quick hug. She closes the door behind her.
I walk to my husband slowly. I place a hand on his face. He turns away.
"You side with them," he states coldly.
"I believe in equal opportunity, Salazar. You know that. You used to, as well."
"Within the category of those whose blood is pure, of course I do. But for those…Mudbloods…" He spits out the word like it itself is dirty.
"Can you not content yourself with your house being pure?" I ask him, forcing him to face me. I look him in the eye. "I could not go on if you left us."
For a second his face softens. He places his hand on my cheek, and I catch a glimpse of the old Salazar. The one I had known throughout the years of my youth, when we were living at Aldan’s house. The one who would play with the hem of my gown while I read and listen as I explained my latest Arithmancy equation.
I take another step closer to him, and let him wrap his hand around me as I breathe him in, then he moves back. His eyes are cold again.
"I will not live in the same school as those filth. If you let them in, you will be expelling me," he states, then motions to the door.
"I really wish you would rethink this," I tell him, my voice equally as cold, and I open the door, closing it silently behind me. As I turn the corner, I see my daughter standing there, looking lost.
"What's wrong, darling?" I ask.
"Is Father really going to go?" she asks. Her eyes pierce me.
"Of course not, darling. Why would you think so?" I hug her and pick her up, holding her tightly in my arms. For the first time in my life, I want to keep someone from knowledge. I want to shield her from the truth. From what will happen if he leaves.
"Because he said so. He said if you brought filth into here, he would leave. But you're so clean. You won’t bring dirt in, right?" Her big blue eyes look up and meet mine.
"No, darling. I will not bring in any filth." Only children. I add to myself.
I put her down. Go to bed now, all right? No more eavesdropping." She smiles bashfully and runs off.
I turn around to find Salazar standing there.
"Don't make a liar of me, my love," I beg him. As I move to walk past him, he grabs my arm. He engulfs me in his arms, and the tears I did not want him to see throb in my throat. A million memories flash before my eyes. A thousand kisses. The infinite love we shared.
"Don’t leave me." I gasp, barely able to hold the sob inside.
"Only if you don't betray me," he says, and suddenly, his arms are no longer around me, and his cheek is no longer placed gingerly upon my head. Fighting back tears, I walk back to my room quickly.
Back there, the tears, not of anger, but of bereavement, leak out and wet my pillow.
How could he have changed so much? Once upon a time he was in the same opinion as us. Once upon a time, he had been willing to listen.
Once upon a time, when Aldan had lived and breathed.
"Professor," I address him quietly, knowing I will never here an answer. "How could we have sunken to such a level?"
I can remember those times so clearly”as if I was still there. Aldan was sitting in that overstuffed leather chair of his, his arms folded in front of him. Those hazel eyes twinkled as we sat studying by his feet.
And we all helped each other back then. We all specialized in one of the subjects, and helped the one whose weakness it was.
It was Helga's specialty, then and always, to be understanding. But what happens when Salazar doesn't want help?
"Even you couldn’t sort this mess out," I cry to the man I have always idolized. "But I wish you were here so I could talk to you."
I brush the tears from my face and shove the unwanted thoughts away. I focus only on the dilemma at hand. I can continue to wait for advice that will not come, or I can decide where my allegiance lies. The question is whether I choose to use pure logic or not. Aldan used to say that would be my greatest challenge”the choice between heart and mind.
I had hoped I would never be confronted with a chance to separate the two.
I slam the door behind me as I leave it again. A small part of me wonders when my home began to feel like a cage. I shouldn’t feel this way; this is where my family is. And yet I feel more trapped here than I have ever been. Either way I have to choose between them.
Or maybe I don’t.
My feet have found the stables.
Abel, the stable hand, leaps to attention. I stand in the doorway, torn about what I should do. Hogwarts is my home. It makes me feel ashamed to have been driven out of it by the people I claim to care about most. But what they ask of me is a burden I do not feel I should bear.
“It’s a bit late to be riding, miss,” Abel mutters. He goes to saddle the horse regardless.
I try to suppress the hysterical laughter that is bubbling up from my throat. Wouldn’t that be ironic: they are all so worried about Salazar leaving that no one has considered what I will do to escape the decision of driving him out. Because ultimately, it is my decision that will matter. Logically minded, I can sway the others. I wonder if this is why Salazar continues to pressure me. Would he truly manipulate me in such a manner? Would he force my hand? If I say no to the change in policy, will he actually leave?
Would he put his pure-blooded fantasies before the holy union we made?
It saddens me that I cannot know for sure. But before I think too much on it, Abel brings me my horse. I pat the horse gently on the snout before mounting.
And then I am gone.
I wonder how long it will be until anyone realises.
_________
I collapse on the grass after dismounting and just breathe in the fresh air, air that is not contaminated by hate and prejudice. Even with my face pressed against the wet grass, I feel the pressure slide off my shoulders. I finally let the laugh out, and if I were standing, I would collapse with mirth. But the laughter stops immediately when I open my eyes and take in the growing light.
Did I truly ride all night long?
I sit up abruptly. What will Helena think when I am not there for her? Am I truly so heartless that I did not consider taking her with me? I look around, trying to discover where I am. I followed the country roads in the same manner I walked the halls of Hogwarts: I let the wind guide my path.
With a start, I realise I know exactly where I am.
And with the realisation, my worries about Hogwarts vanish as if they had never been at all.
The cottage has fallen into a state of disrepair since I have been here last, but it is still the same place we left ten years ago: Aldan’s cottage.
I walk to the door, fighting off exhaustion, and knock. It’s a rather silly thing to do: obviously, no one has lived here in ages. After berating myself, I pull on the lever”it squeaks--and enter the derelict place.
My first reaction is a sneeze. Dust covers everything like a blanket of snow. My footsteps leave a trail of footprints in it and I am filled with a strange desire to make a dust angel. I ignore the impulse and continue in from the hallway.
A lump fills my throat as I enter the study. For a second I see in double vision: one world where dust covers everything and the chairs and floor lie empty, the other filled with the light of a fire crackling merrily in the grate as Aldan sits behind the desk. Godric is as close to the fire as he can get without burning himself, muttering about a Transfiguration spell he can’t seem to grasp. Helga is in the windowsill, fretting over how her plants will not get enough light. I sit primly in the armchair with my nose firmly in a book while Salazar leans against my legs. He plays with the hem of my dress while thoroughly engrossed in a book of his own. Godric’s muttering grows steadily louder until it breaks through my concentration. My temper gets the better of me and I throw the book at his head.
I blink and the vision is gone, the empty room and the dust in its place.
I bite my lip. Even then, we had been talking about creating a school where anyone could learn and appreciate the gifts magic gave us all. We had divided the subjects, drawn blueprints, everything. Aldan had been proud of us. He said the project was uniting us in ways he had never imagined.
If only he had known the school would be the thing that drove us apart.
I go up the stairs and enter the room Helga and I shared. I wave my wand at my bed to clear it of dust and collapse on it, succumbing to the exhaustion at last.
After what feels like two moments of sleep, I feel a hand rubbing my back. I do not open my eyes, trying to understand the situation before I embrace it. I am at Aldan’s home, so no one should be here with me. Yet there are at least three voices conversing quietly. A small part of me wonders if the voices mean me harm, but the rest knows they are familiar. I recognize the gruff timbre of Salazar as the person rubbing my back, and relax against his touch. I hear the quiet whispers of Helga and Godric and allow myself a brief moment of peace.
And then the words they are saying become clear again.
“You’ve been putting too much pressure on her, Salazar! Of course she was bound to break under it.”
“You’re the ones who refuse to listen! If the magic--”
“This is neither the time nor place, Salazar.”
They try to keep their voices low, but each word pierces through me like a sword. Even in Aldan’s home, the place where we met and were guided, they cannot keep arguments out. Tears leak from my tightly closed lids as I try to hold in the scream that is building inside of me.
And then I make the choice, between mind and heart.
The scream dies in my throat as I coat my world”my thoughts, my hopes, my feelings”with ice.
Ice-cold logic is the only way to remain sane in this world that has torn itself apart.
I wonder if anything will make me warm again.
“You all refuse to listen,” I whisper, letting the words break free at last. They were ones I meant to scream, but I cannot fuel the fire any longer. I am too cold to be passionate. My eyes open and I sit up. Salazar’s hand slides off my back when I refuse to look at them all. If I look at them, I will not be able to talk. My resolve would break.
“This is Aldan’s place. A place where we were friends. Let us not destroy the memory of it, for soon those will be all we have.”
I stand and leave them frozen in my wake. I pass myself in the hall: in a vision not unlike the double vision of the study. Her eyes alight with passion as she talks to a younger Salazar about something she had been thinking of. I wonder if I will feel that passion again.
But then I flee the house, and escape the place where we divided.
_______
History always said that Salazar left us several years later, but from that day on, we were truly divided. After I let logic take complete control, all three of them realized what a mistake it had been to push me to the limit and tried to make amends. But I knew the tentative peace between them would not last. I never let my heart have control as the clock ground out the last years that Salazar would remain at the school. I ignored the rift that grew and grew between them: continued to teach any student brought before me with a passion to learn.
I did not cry when he left at last.
I had realized he would soon be gone for too long to allow that display of emotion.
I did not cry when Helena sobbed in my arms over her father’s departure. Did not cringe when she begged me to make him come back. I just held her and smoothed her hair and tried to comfort her.
I did not cry when she called me heartless years later.
History claimed that my diadem was what gave me cold, powerful logic. But it was never that.
Never that.
Fallen Heroes by guiding ray of sunlight, Emily_the_Poet
Chapter Notes: Thanks a million times over to the amazing Solemnlyswear_x (Melissa) who betaed this at the very last second and didn't complain even once :D