The wise woman of the village, who had risen early as always, watched the badgers disappear underground as she walked through the undergrowth on the edge of the wood. She was looking for herbs and other plants, which she collected in a small basket she was carrying. Every now and then she would stop and bend down to examine a leaf or flower at her feet, before carefully extracting the plant if it was what she sought. She whistled to herself contentedly as she went along.
The villagers all referred to her as the wise woman, no matter how much she deprecated the title, or tried to persuade them to use her own name. Everyone knew she was the person to go to if you were sick, or one of your animals was in trouble, or you feared a poor harvest. She delivered babies, watched over the dying and counselled those who grieved. If you came to her in need, she would never turn you away, no matter how great or small the problem, and the villagers revered her for it.
She had arrived in the village some years before, and no one knew why she had come to such an obscure place, nor where she came from. Despite her obscure past, she was friendly and welcoming, and the villagers had quickly accepted her as one of their own, as if she had lived in the valley all her life. Most could now not imagine the village without her.
Passing westwards, with the rising sun at her back, she moved a short way into the wood, to where she knew a cluster of wild berries were growing. The air was still under the trees, and all around was silent and peaceful, as it always was in the valley.
Reaching the thicket of brambles, she bent down to pick some of the berries. Suddenly, there was a flash of light over her head, and a shower of bright sparks burst from a tree behind her. Desperately, she threw herself to the ground as another stream of light shot through the place where she had been.
–Idiot, you missed!†she heard a deep voice yell from somewhere to her right. –Move in.â€
Terrified, the wise woman scrambled behind the cover of a tree. She knew she was under attack. She frantically pulled out a wand from where it was hidden in her skirt and clutched it tightly. She heard a different, snarling voice from not far behind her. –Where are you, old woman? Come on out and play.â€
She stuck her head and arm out from behind the tree. –Who are you calling old?†she said furiously. –Stupefy!†The spell, however, flew straight over the advancing man’s head. She caught a brief glimpse of a well-dressed man with a thick black beard and narrow eyes, before retreating once more for cover as the man levelled his wand and returned a spell of his own.
–Come on out, I promise it’ll be quick,†the man snarled.
–Who are you? What do you want with me?†she begged.
–Not much,†said the man. –Just your life. Reducto!†The curse blasted into the tree trunk just behind which she was sheltering. It sheared through the trunk and the tree toppled forward as she dived out of the way.
She climbed to her feet, her legs shaking, her wand arm unsteadily out in front of her. She was out in the open now, and the two men advanced on her slowly; the man she had seen and his colleague, a tall young man with a scar on his right cheek. –Nowhere to run, old woman,†said the man with the scar. –Lower your wand and we promise it’ll be painless.â€
The wise woman did not lower her wand. She prepared to cast one last defiant spell, for if she was going to die, then at least she would die fighting.
Then, from nowhere, a jet of red light burst through the trees and struck the man with the scar. He fell, Stunned. His colleague wheeled round to confront the new assailant. A young woman, her long dark hair flowing behind her, was sprinting towards him, throwing out hexes and curses as she went. The man stood his ground and did his best to deflect the barrage of spells coming at him, but he was soon all but overwhelmed. Realising he was totally outmatched, the man dived to the ground, seized the ankle of his fallen colleague and Disapparated before either woman could stop him.
The wise woman stood in shock, her shaking arm still outstretched, unable to believe what had just happened, as her rescuer rushed up to her side. –Helga, Helga, look at me,†she said, seizing her shoulders. –Helga, are you all right? Helga, tell me you’re not hurt. Helga, it’s me. It’s Rowena.â€
The village of Hufflepuff was a very close-knit community, so it was no surprise that news that the wise woman had been attacked out in the woods had spread through the village before she had even returned to her home. When she did at last reach the village, there was a large gathering of people there, ready to offer whatever help they could. They were surprised, however, to see that she was accompanied by a young woman that none of them recognised. The young woman was carrying a baby in her arms. –Who are you? What happened?†demanded one of the men.
To his surprise, the woman replied to him in Welsh, as he had spoken, though her accent was clearly one of a foreigner. –I am an old friend of Helga’s, come to visit her. She was set upon by two men in the woods. She is shaken but unharmed. The men fled; I would be on your guard in case they return, but do not go looking for them, they are very dangerous. I will take care of Helga.†Helga nodded her agreement and the crowd dispersed to let them past.
They reached Helga’s home. It was a tiny structure, built of rough stone and consisting of just a single room. It was cold and draughty, and Rowena was amazed that Helga, a highly accomplished witch, would live in such a poor house. They went inside and Rowena laid Helga down on her crude bed. She set a fire in the hearth and sat down next to Helga, cradling Helena in her arms.
Helga’s state of shock was beginning to fade. She sat up in her bed and looked at Rowena. –What are you doing here, Rowena?†she asked. –I haven’t seen you in eight years. Who were those men? Why were they after me?â€
Rowena sighed. –I think the answers to those questions are all bound up together,†she replied. –I am afraid I may have brought you into terrible danger, Helga. If I guess right, those men were the same ones who murdered my husband.â€
Helga gasped in horror. –I had not even heard you had married. Your husband was murdered? Why?â€
–Why else?†said Rowena angrily. –Because he was on the wrong side of some disagreement, with the wrong person. You know what it’s like among us at the moment.†Helga nodded sadly and looked down at the baby in Rowena’s arms. –Her name is Helena,†Rowena told her.
–May I hold her?†asked Helga. Rowena passed her over. Helga gently stroked her forehead and Helena giggled softly. –She’s beautiful.†She looked up. –So what became of you, Rowena? When you left Jorvik, you were destined for great things. Tell me everything.â€
–There isn’t much to tell. I travelled for a while, and helped my father with his estate. Then I met Donald. From the moment we met, I knew I would marry him. We loved each other, so much.†Rowena stifled back a tear.
–I’m so sorry.†There was no more Helga could say.
–What of you?†Rowena asked. –When we parted, this is not where I pictured you ending up. Why would the finest witch of her generation want to live in a place like this?â€
–You always overestimated my talents,†said Helga with a smile. –But this is all I ever wanted, really. I couldn’t bear to stay in Jorvik. The school was dwindling; fewer and fewer parents were willing to entrust their children to a stranger. Plus I couldn’t watch our community fall apart and have to deal with the petty politics, the recriminations and the senseless violence. I wanted a fresh start.
–Here, among ordinary folk, away from the chaos, I can actually do some good. I can put my skills to good use and really help people live their lives. These are good people, Rowena, and they made me welcome almost from the day I got here. This is a real community, of men and women who trust and care for one another, and support each other throughout their lives. I consider it a privilege to be one of them. I have truly found a home here.â€
Rowena sighed, and reflected on why she admired Helga so much: how little interest she had in those things most prized so much - money, status, power. Here she was, living in near-poverty and obscurity, and she was content. –Then I feel guilty for coming here at all; for what I am about to ask you. You see, I want you to leave this place behind, if just for a while. I need your help.â€
–What do you mean?â€
–I made a promise.†Rowena told Helga about the vow she had made. –Something must be done. Our people need to be brought back from the brink. But I cannot take on this task alone. I need people of like mind to join me. I want you to be the first.â€
Helga sat back in silence for a moment, gently rocking Helena in her arms. –You realise you are attempting the impossible,†she said. Rowena nodded glumly. –Good. Then I am with you.†The change in Rowena’s face to an expression of utter delight and joy was so sudden that Helga burst out laughing. –I see I am going to have a lot to live up to,†she said. –If anybody else had asked, I would have said no. But you were born to do the impossible, Rowena. I would be honoured to help. Besides, if your life is really under threat, then you will need someone to watch your back. I will do what I can.â€
–Your own life will be in danger, too,†said Rowena. –After what just happened, I did not think you would agree so easily. But there’s something else, isn’t there? Something you’re not telling me, that made you decide to say yes.â€
–You always know, don’t you Rowena. Yes, but it is personal. You know how I don’t like to talk about my visions.â€
–You have Seen something?†Rowena asked. –Something about my mission?†Helga was a natural Seer, though she had never cultivated the craft, being unwilling to trust to vague prophecies and predictions. Rowena agreed with her, but she also knew not to dismiss them out of hand.
–Not about your mission, no. But for the last few years I have steadily been getting disturbing and confusing visions of war and upheaval. Not just in our community, but across Britain. The strong impression I get is they are from quite far in the future.â€
–The millennium?†asked Rowena. –But that’s just a superstition.â€
–No, further into the future than that. Into the next century and on, perhaps a hundred years from now. But the overall feeling I get is that a storm is coming to Britain, a time of chaos and change that will alter this land for ever. We live in relatively peaceful times, Rowena. But the generations after us will not be so lucky. If our community is not united and strong when the storm comes, it may not survive. This is our chance to be ready.â€
The news that the wise woman would be leaving Hufflepuff with her friend the stranger was greeted with sadness and dismay throughout the village, and all the inhabitants turned out to see her off. –What will we do without you, wise woman?†they asked.
–First, know that I will never forget you,†Helga answered. –This place will always be in my heart wherever I am, and I one day I will come back, I promise. Second, you need not fear my departure. You are good and able people, and you have taught me far more than I have taught you. Third and last, lest fate should be unkind to you, I leave you this.†She held up an ornate golden cup that gleamed in the sun, and handed over to the chief village elder. –This cup is extremely valuable, but do not sell it, for its value does not lie in its gold. Keep this cup, and you shall never lack for a harvest. Whatever you grow, place but a small amount in the cup, and the rest shall be plentiful and healthy. Farewell.â€
–A Cup of Plenty?†asked Rowena as they were leaving.
–A version of my own making,†Helga replied.
–What was that you said about me overestimating your talents?†said Rowena.
Helga smiled modestly, but did not reply. Instead, she asked, –So, where do we begin?â€
–We must seek out allies,†said Rowena. –People of high status and respect in our community that others will look up to. They will be gathered around the seat of greatest power. We must travel to the court of the King of England.â€