The Aftermath
Rowena’s feelings were unexplainable, inexpressible. Her rage was inextinguishable, her anger unquenchable. Her guilt was unforgivable, her love undeniable. Her eyes had opened, but she felt she was still in a dream—a nightmare. She had heard his cries, his voice calling her name. How could she have left him? How could she have sent him back?
She had walked barefoot out of the bedroom, the drapes softly blowing. A workman had knocked on the door. She knew it was bad news the moment she heard the knock. She saw him doff his cap, clutching it sheepishly. His words sounded faint and distant. She cried and collapsed, limp with pain. Her mother and Helga ran to her, trying in vain to comfort her. They failed. She was inconsolable.
Why? she thought. Why did it have to be him? Why did it have to be Oswald?
At some point, she apparated to the school, where she felt him most keenly. There was one thing she needed. She found the Pensieve in a room below the astronomy tower. She couldn’t have gone up there. Great sobs of tears flowed down her cheeks. She cradled it, prodded her temple hard, and flung silvery memory after silvery memory into it. She choked uncontrollably between her sobs. She steadied herself. She had to see him again. She plunged her wand into the liquid. A figure rose from it, but it wasn’t him. It wasn’t enough. She hit the liquid with her fist. Suddenly, her whole body lurched forward and into the Pensieve.
She was back in the field again, the sun shining brightly, a faint breeze blowing. It was two months ago, before the castle had been built. There he was—the first time they had met. She could see him again. He was alive again. She could make herself believe it. She could hear him and see him, but she couldn’t feel him. He didn’t know she existed. Try as she might, she couldn’t touch him. She sank to the floor and cradled herself. Curséd bowl.
Memory after memory came and went. She tortured herself with every last one of them. This was all she could have of him. This was all she would ever have of him. Before she knew it, she was back on the cold stone floor of the castle. She lay quietly for an age, trying to remember the sound of his voice, letting herself be consumed by the memory of him.
Eventually, Helga came. She knelt down, unsure of what to say. She said nothing, just being there for Rowena when she was ready.
“I loved him,” Rowena winced.
“I know,” Helga said quietly.
“We were going to get married today!”
Helga gently stroked her arm. “Take as long as you need,” she cooed.
“Take as long as I need?” Rowena said, outraged. “I will never get over this. Nothing will ever be okay again.”
“We can stop the children from coming if you want. Delay them as long as you like.”
Rowena dried her eyes with her sleeve. “Stop the children from coming?” she said incredulously. “Oswald wouldn’t have wanted that! He had the same dream as me. This place. Didn’t he say what a difference it would have made to him?”
She cried again, thinking of what had happened to him.
“Of course, whatever you want,” Helga tried to appease her.
“This was everything to him, this castle. He told me so. This was his love note to me. And I’ll tell you what—I will never leave it again.”
*
Rowena had refused to come home. The boys and Helga sat around the table with Agatha and Oregon. They too looked miserable. The news had come as quite a shock. Such cases were rare but not unheard of. It was particularly hard as they had known Oswald, and he had seemed such a competent wizard. Only Salazar did not feel particularly affected. After all, they had hardly known him. But he was wise enough to keep his lack of feelings to himself.
“Horrible,” Agatha exhaled at last.
“This sort of thing is so ruddy awful,” Godric agreed.
“We’ve already got notes from some of the parents,” Helga shared, lifting up some papers. “It seems the idea of sending their children to the middle of nowhere, away from the Muggles, seems somewhat more appealing now. Particularly those in the South.”
“No doubt that Black woman,” Godric said with feeling.
“You can hardly blame them,” Oregon defended. “What parent wouldn’t want to do all they could for their children, to keep them safe?”
“That poor boy’s mother,” Agatha winced.
“I wish we could have done something,” Godric sighed. “I wish there was something we could do.”
“You are doing your bit!” Agatha told him. “That’s the best thing you can do. Help those children understand themselves and the world around them better.”
“We will,” Godric smiled briefly.
*
The three founders went to the castle. They stood looking up at it. Without a doubt, it was the finest building they had ever seen. It was the greatest memorial and testament to the creative genius of Oswald Otterly. It was breath-taking. They spent a long time just staring up at it, wordlessly. Rowena may have wanted it to be an abbey dedicated to learning, but to Salazar, it was clearly a palace. Godric looked at it and saw a fortress. Only Helga saw it as a refuge.
After a while, they moved towards it. The front gates loomed above them, tall and imposing. They were so solid. Salazar raised his wand, and with a simple command, they creaked open. This was their school. This was Hogwarts. They walked inside. It was just as incredible on the inside. Godric started running. He couldn’t help it. There was so much space.
“Godric Gryffindor!” Helga called after him, laughing. “You are going to knock something over!”
“You better catch me then, if you can!” he shouted back.
Helga and Salazar chased after him. Salazar couldn’t quite catch up, with Godric being so much more athletic. So, he accidentally sent a slight leg-locking curse his way. Godric went flying across the stone floors with a great thud. He didn’t seem hurt, because by the time Salazar started wrestling him, he was laughing again.
“Give me my legs back!” Godric demanded.
*
When the time came, Helga paced nervously, looking out the door. She fretted and wrung her hands together, waiting for the house-elves. Thankfully, Godric was with her.
"Don't fret!" Godric told her. "There's nothing to worry about."
"I know, I just can't help it," Helga said. "Something about this makes me nervous."
"To tell you the truth," Godric admitted, "it makes me nervous too. I don't care much for meeting this guy myself."
"Stay with me," Helga pleaded.
"Of course I will," Godric said. "You don't have to make a decision either way if you don't want to. You're under no obligation. Take all the time you need."
There was a crack in the distance, on the school grounds. Slowly, the object of Helga's distress approached. A porky, red-faced, squat man waddled towards them, carrying a chain attached to the neck braces of a line of house-elves. There were about ten of them, of varying sizes, ages, and sexes, all too worn down to hold any expression other than self-loathing. Their wide eyes dulled by pitiful existences, they were thin, their skin drooping. Their legs were also in chains, clinking and thumping in unison as they moved towards the door. They had not been furnished with any articles of self-dignity.
Helga was utterly shocked. She felt appalled and disgusted with the man. Her hands shot to cover her mouth, and her eyes welled up. Never had she seen such a vile disregard for the feelings of other creatures. The man approached Helga and Godric, wheezing slightly, then gave a toothless grin.
"Miss 'ufflepuff, I believe," the man said with a slight bow.
Helga couldn’t speak.
"What in the name of Neptune have you done to those poor creatures!" Godric raged.
Helga didn’t think she’d ever seen him so angry. He was absolutely fuming.
"'Ey?" the man said, with a slightly puzzled look. "Don't worry, they might not look it, but they're tough, they'll work. There's plenty of work left in 'em."
He shook the chains to make them move, looking expectantly into the faces of the two Founders, pleased with himself.
"You, Sir," Godric said purposefully and carefully, "are a disgrace."
The man looked annoyed. "Ain't pretty, what I do. Some people ain't got the stomach for it, but someone's gotta do it. You asked for any you could get. These are ones no one else'll take. Now, I can give you 'em at a good price!"
Godric still looked utterly disgusted. But Helga suddenly spoke.
"We'll take them," she said forcefully.
Then she snatched the chain from the man’s hand and started walking the house-elves inside. The man seemed confused and bewildered. He scratched his head and put it down to the ‘youth’ of today. Godric spoke to him and paid him. The man soon left, glad to be rid of the house-elves and to leave that place. Helga marched the house-elves inside, too mad and enraged to even think. Otherwise, she would have de-chained them first. She wanted to get them inside as soon as possible, away from that dreadful man. Once inside, she shot her wand at the chains, and the house-elves were released instantly.
"Now, that is better!" Helga exclaimed.
The house-elves still looked terrified. Now, closer to them, their smell became overwhelming.
"We will get you a nice warm bath, and we will get you some garments you can wear. Then I will show you where you will be staying. How does that sound?"
None of the house-elves answered. Some of them chewed their hands in fear.
"My name is Helga," she said, trying to sound less dictatorial. "Perhaps you could tell me yours, and I will try to learn them, one by one."
Again, none of them spoke. Helga looked at them quizzically, her hands on her hips. A thought flashed across her mind—perhaps they couldn’t speak! Perhaps they were too scared! One of the taller males at the back finally spoke up. He was young, with big round eyes, and he sounded terrified.
"Please, your ma’am-ship, we is being told not to speak back to our masters."
"Well, whatever you have been told, you may consider me to be in charge now, and at Hogwarts the rules are very different," she said defiantly. "You are permitted to speak when you want, and to whom you want. Is that clear?"
There was a general movement of heads in recognition. They seemed to become more at ease then and eventually were persuaded to give their names in turn. There was Noxy, Nottie, Whompie, Wimpey, Bilby, Bussey, Moncy, Mildrie, and finally, Hexley and Hootley. In time, they managed to run a bath and were calm enough to attend to themselves for a while.
Godric hadn’t said anything, just watched. When at last Helga had wiped her brow and sighed, leaving the house-elves to it, he drew near to her.
"Don’t judge me," Helga implored him.
"Helga, how could you think I would?"
He touched her shoulders, and then they hugged.
"I couldn’t do it," she welled up again. "I couldn’t leave them with that awful, awful man."
"I know," he said reassuringly. "I know. I would have done the same."
"I don’t care if it’s supporting the trade or not. I will fight tooth and claw for its abolition. But when I saw them there, when I saw them, Godric, the state they were in—how could I do anything else? I couldn’t leave them, I couldn’t abandon them. What would have happened to them? What would have happened to them if I'd left them?"
Tears were really coming down her cheeks now.
"I know," Godric said warmly. "You did the right thing. You have a good heart, Helga. Those house-elves will have a much better life here. This trade, if it can even be called that—those breeders—it’s barbaric. They deserve to be enslaved themselves, to see how they like it."
"I don’t know how anyone could do it. How could anyone be a breeder? How could anyone make a living in such a vile way, off the misery of other creatures?"
Helga sniffed. She had to be better. She couldn’t fall to pieces every time she saw a house-elf. She got up and went back to the house-elves. Once they had been bathed and wore Hogwarts clothes, they looked and smelled much better. Helga showed them to the kitchens. They were impressed with these, and when the fires were lit, they almost felt cosy. They were eager to get started. They were very competent at cooking and preparing food, and they worked well together. Helga gave them minimal guidance for the first evening's meal. She wanted them to settle in first. Oregon and Helga would be visiting, eager to see the castle for the first time, and there would also be the four of them. Well, three—Rowena was still refusing to join them.
*
Rowena lay on her bed, talking to Oswald. Well, she was talking to her memory of him. He lay beside her, looking more beautiful than he had in real life. Untroubled by its stresses and pressures, but his eyes were still the same, and so was his voice.
"Will you forgive me?" Rowena asked.
"Yes," he said confidently. "Of course I will."
"It may look like I’m going about my life normally, like nothing’s ever happened, like I have forgotten, but I haven’t. You do know that, don’t you?" She cried earnestly. "You have to know that. I will never forget, I will never stop feeling the pain."
"It’s alright, Rowena, my love," he said. "I want you to live your life. I need you to live your life, for us. I need you to do all the things I dreamed that you’d do. That I wanted you to do."
"I will," Rowena promised. "I might not always be able to show how I’m feeling. I might even have to wear a mask at times. But you do know that, between the two of us, it is still hurting me on the inside."
"I do, my love," he whispered. "I know how you feel. It’s okay to feel that way."
"I will see you again," she vowed. "I will."
"I know you will," he sighed. "But for now, I am always with you, whenever you need me."