The Wedding
Chapter 19: The Wedding
Some weeks had passed since the duel. Nobody talked about it openly, but it was still discussed occasionally in hushed whispers.
None of the teachers suggested any more extracurricular activities.
Autumn was marching on, and one day, Helga, clutching a note, excitedly looked for Rowena everywhere. She found her at last in the library. Rowena had her head propped up on a desk, with several pages laid out before her.
"Rowena," Helga exclaimed giddily, "there is such news!"
She waved the note around, demanding attention.
"What is it?" Rowena asked wearily.
"Our parents, Row," she cried happily, "it's happening! They really are—they're going to get married!"
Rowena looked at her in amazement.
"You're serious? They are?"
"Yes, they are! Isn't it wonderful?"
"Yes, of course," she said, "when?"
"The day before All Hallows' Day!"
Suddenly, Rowena's smile fell, and she looked down at her hands.
"What is it?" Helga asked worriedly, sitting on the stool next to her. "What's the matter?"
Rowena looked at her with a pained expression. "I can't go to it. I just can't. I can't leave the castle!"
Helga released her breath. Was that all? "Don't worry, we'll get them to perform the vows here at the school. I'm sure they won't mind. We can put on a dinner!"
She looked confidently at Rowena, who smiled back, but still seemed to have something she needed to say. Helga glanced at the papers, searching for clues.
"What were you doing?" she asked gently.
Rowena looked up at her and replied, "Oh, I've been going through the scrolls and the books we have. I've been trying to make copies of them and compile them, but there is so much to do."
"Perhaps we should employ a librarian?" Helga suggested helpfully.
"Yes!" Rowena said. "That is an excellent idea."
"You know," Helga said thoughtfully, "Salazar mentioned a man in the town who'd offered his services as a caretaker."
"You know, that's not such a bad idea either," she laughed, "considering the trouble Peeves is making!"
Helga stood up. "Come, let us write back to our parents, and then make the arrangements. We will need all the help we can get from the house-elves to make this a proper feast!"
*
"We're all agreed then?" Fyfe asked the other boys as he looked at them mischievously and grinned broadly.
The older Gryffindor boys looked at each other as they huddled closely around the Great Hall table during breakfast on All Hallows' Eve. They were speaking quietly, with an air of mystery. A waft of bacon lingered in the air.
"Yes," Perry and Henry confirmed, nodding.
"I'll get the food from the kitchens," Henry asserted. "I know the way, and we can't have a party without food, can we?"
"Good thinking, Ettington!" Fyfe acknowledged.
"Just Gryffindors?" Perry asked inquisitively.
He and Henry looked at Fyfe expectantly. Fyfe, after all, was their assumed leader.
Fyfe scratched his head. "Ah, that would be nice, wouldn't it, but I'm not sure how kindly Valda would take to it..." he said. "Perhaps a few select others. We should probably invite Gwenda as well."
Henry shared a knowing look with Perry, then added, "That doesn't sound too bad. But not too many, eh? Gryffindor might be alright about it, but we don't want old Ravenousclaw finding out, do we?"
"No," Fyfe concurred bitterly. "We don't need any more of her detentions." Then he pursed his lips in mock imitation. "'If my lips get any tighter from your actions, I'll never get them unstuck again. Ten points from each of you!'"
The others laughed.
"Well, it shouldn't be too much of a problem," Perry said. "She and Professor Hufflepuff are pretty distracted. The girls are saying their parents are getting married. That's why they want us all out of here today. They want us out of the way. Well, if that's the case, they can hardly begrudge us a bit of fun!"
"Married!" Fyfe spat. "Imagine that, they must be so old!"
"Yeah," Henry agreed.
"Right then," Fyfe dictated, rubbing his hands together. "Let's get to it. Meet you back in the common room in an hour, boys!"
*
That morning, Salazar was sitting alone in the dungeon. It had been days since Salazar had spoken to Godric properly. He thought to himself—lonely are the friends of lovers. It was miserable, heart-breaking, and yet he would have given anything to see him again. Godric had made no effort to see him nor talk to him. If he liked Salazar, why didn’t he want to communicate with him? Why couldn’t he make his mind up whether to be hot or cold or honest? But then, he didn’t need Salazar anymore. He could take him or leave him. Oh, that he would leave him alone for good then! Ah, but he didn’t want him to leave him alone. In fact, the only redeeming part of this whole wedding was the fact that Godric would be there. The thought of seeing him was both terrifying and exciting. He felt both hatred and love towards him.
Salazar made his way up to the Great Hall slowly. The ladies had decorated the ground floor. Garlands of flowers twisted and garnished every pillar, doorway, staircase, and beam. Yellow daffodils bloomed together in magically hovering bunches. The sweet perfume of the flowers filled the air. The students had been sent to their common rooms.
Once in the Great Hall, he could see Oregon standing with Godric beside him. Salazar made his way over to them. They were all wearing their finest robes. Oregon had clearly received instruction to have his hair cut and his beard trimmed.
"Nervous?" Godric asked Oregon breezily, rubbing his hands together.
"Nah!" Oregon boomed, slapping him on the shoulder. "Piece of cake. Don’t forget—this ain't my first time!"
Godric nodded back, then acknowledged Salazar.
"Anyway, what about you? When's it your turn?" Oregon asked enthusiastically.
"Well," Godric replied, pleased to be able to share his relational status, "Gladys and I are very happy. I’m sure it won’t be too long."
Oregon grunted, then turned to Salazar and asked him sharply, "What about you?"
"If my father has his way—soon," Salazar replied through gritted teeth.
"Best thing in the world," Oregon gaped, eyes beaming, a broad smile on his face. "Marriage! Nothing like it! Women are absolutely incredible."
He looked exceedingly proud of himself to be marrying Agatha.
There were no fanfares or pomp when Agatha arrived, just a quiet dignified entrance as she walked into the Great Hall. All eyes fixed immediately on her. She looked radiant. She had a refined, almost glamorous look, which some more mature women seem to wear so well. She strolled right up to Oregon, who took both of her hands in his and smiled broadly. Helga, Rowena, and Gladys followed after her. Then they stopped, Gladys on the other side of Godric, Helga in between the two of them, and Rowena on the other side of Salazar. They looked stunning, wearing long pale blue dresses with cornflowers fixed in their hair.
Oregon, unable to contain himself, looked ardently and resolutely into Agatha’s eyes. His eyes began glinting with tears as he tried to hold them back.
"Agatha, my Agatha," he said, smiling even further, "are you alright?"
"Yes, Oregon," she beamed back.
"Well," Oregon said, "let's get to it then!"
The others gave a relieved laugh. Oregon and Agatha held their wands up, their tips touching above their other crossed hands.
"Agatha, you are all I long for, all I need. I can’t imagine life without you. I love you. I will always be here for you. I will always steadfastly love you all the days of my life. I vow to be faithful to you alone."
Agatha replied adoringly, "I love you with all my heart. Let stars fall, let time cease, yet will I always be yours. I will always need you. I vow to be faithful to you alone."
At this point, Helga was definitely dabbing her eyes. Suddenly, the wand tips glowed and burst with stars, which cascaded down over the couple’s hands in a golden fountain. The spectators clapped and cheered loudly as the newly married couple embraced.
"Mrs Hufflepuff!" Oregon boomed.
The others erupted again. Then all at once, a feast magically appeared on one of the long tables.
"Let’s eat," Oregon cried again, excitedly.
Even Agatha was so happy that she did not comment on the house-elf food, should she have been able to fault the celebratory meal they had created. She beamed and brimmed with such unrestrained joy as she had not demonstrated for years. They sat, ate, and drank, almost like they had done in the summer. Apart from the fact that Gladys was there, and Godric was continually attentive towards her, which was a severe trial for Salazar, who found the occasion a complete ordeal. However, he resolved to make the most of the occasion for the sake of Agatha.
"It’s so good to finally be able to have a good chat!" Gladys said to Salazar brightly across the noisy table. "I don’t feel like we’ve had a proper opportunity before!"
"Quite," Salazar said shortly.
"With you being so close to Godric and all. Why—you’re practically brothers, aren’t you? Don’t you think so?"
No, Salazar thought. They hadn’t been for months. Salazar would have liked to bite her head off for that remark or at least give her over-enthusiastic, unwarranted, and undesired overtures the silent treatment, but he decided on balance that he probably ought not to. Instead, he mustered every ounce of his will to be civil to her and to ignore her over-familiar, sickly, girlish temperament.
"We’ve certainly known each other a long time," he replied flatly.
She turned and fluttered her eyelids at Godric, who was doting on her every word. Their hands were entwining beneath the table. Salazar drew in a deep breath. This was agony. He ought to ask a question in return, but why on earth should he help the conversation out? Godric was saying nothing. Salazar had the distinct impression that he was trying to let them do the talking, as if it might suddenly lead them to being bosom friends and not the rivals of his affections.
"You must know lots of stories about him, though?" she asked keenly.
"Well," Salazar mused, "we did go to Greece together. Seems like a lifetime ago now. We stayed at the home of Caractacus Populus. I don’t know if you know him? He has two children—Erebus and Juliana. Godric might recall them—"
Godric flushed. Salazar thought of Erebus. His soft, dark hair. His big beautiful eyes. He could even remember his scent.
"Oh!" Gladys exclaimed, looking intently at Godric. "Godric never mentioned them! I knew I could count on you for all the gossip!"
"Are you talking about Greece?" Helga jumped in, eager to join their conversation. "The boys brought us back the most beautiful jewellery."
She showed Gladys her necklace, who cooed over it, suitably impressed by the taste. Hopeful for herself.
"I didn’t know Godric had such exquisite taste in jewellery," she said playfully. "That’s good to know!"
"Perhaps we should go for a holiday in Greece?" Oregon said, nudging Agatha.
Agatha looked at him incredulously, as though he’d just had the audacity to suggest they holidayed on a dungheap. She replied haughtily, "Greece, indeed! Really! Nothing but a load of toga-loving, ruminating, old men with nothing better to do than sit around and talk all day! I think not!" She scoffed, wagging her finger about. "Not to mention the cross-breeding beasts that haven’t decided whether they want to be chickens or goats!"
"I’ll take that as a no then," Oregon said, laughing loudly.
*
The Gryffindor common room was a hive of activity that evening. Word had, of course, gotten out that the boys were hosting a party there. Valda had brought along some of her Ravenclaw friends, as had Gwenda from Hufflepuff. Two large seats had been pushed together, to make a sort of fort, and an inordinate number of bodies were squeezed in between the two, and on top of them. Fyfe and Valda presided over the room, as the loudest and most outspoken individuals in the group. Henry drank beer from a mug, perched on one of the arms nearest Fyfe, and joined in the conversation every so often. Perry was wedged in between Caedan and Benjamin. Listening half-heartedly, he nervously twiddled his belt.
“Of course you know what night it is, don’t you?” Fyfe said to the group, smirking mischievously. “All Hallow’s Eve, of course!”
“It is said to be the most haunted of all nights!” Henry added, cackling. “When the dead arise again!”
“Stop!” Gwenda exclaimed, nervously but trying to appear calm. “Nonsense, it’s all nothing but nonsense. Superstition invented to try and scare little children.”
“It is not nonsense!” Valda replied indignantly and dramatically. “Tomorrow those poor souls still trapped in this world may go to the beyond. Tonight they’re at their most restless, as they perform their final acts in this world.”
“This is beyond belief,” Gwenda scoffed.
“I think I can feel something!” Fyfe cried in horror. Then he laughed, and Valda hit him, annoyed.
“Tell us a story, Henry!” Caedon asked, and a few others agreed with him, looking up at Henry expectantly.
“Okay, okay then,” Henry agreed, looking pleased to have been asked. “Long before a castle stood here on these grounds, the land belonged to the McGregor family—”
“How do you know that?” Gwenda asked peevishly.
“Because I do my research!” Henry replied curtly. “Alright? There’s a town over there, isn’t there? Anybody else have any questions, or may I continue—uninterrupted?”
He looked around. Everybody fell quiet, not wanting to be scolded.
“Now, the McGregors had been there for years. They were an old family, but very peculiar—just one old man and his two creepy children—a boy and a girl. They kept very much to themselves. Often, very strange things would happen nearby. You know—animals went missing or turned up dead. Well, one day, a woman came to Hogsmeade, claiming to be the children’s aunt, and she said she was looking for her sister. Well, the wife had been dead for years. But the aunt insisted her sister had been writing to her for ages. The villagers warned her not to go to the house, but she wouldn't listen. She wanted to make sure the children were safe. That night it was cold and dark, and the villagers neither saw nor heard anything unusual. Time went by, and nothing had been seen or heard of the family or indeed the aunt since. Curiosity got the better of them, so some of the villagers decided to go up and see the McGregor house together. Well, there was not a single trace of the boy or girl anywhere, but they found the man and the woman curled up on the floor—dead—looking like they’d been dead for years.”
“Ooh, Henry, that’s horrible!” Gwenda exclaimed, shocked.
“What happened next?” Valda asked excitedly.
“I haven’t told you the strangest bit yet. All that was left in the house were the two bodies and what they were still holding—a bowl. A stone basin, which contained a bit of silvery liquid in it. Well, the villagers were so horrified that they dismantled the house brick by brick and buried the bodies. No one has ever built on the land since. That is, until this castle. But, it’s said that on the anniversary of the night the aunt came, two ghostly figures are seen walking this very clifftop away from the—"
Three knocks banged on the door, reverberating around the room. Some of the girls screamed.
“It’s Mr. McGregor!” Valda cried.
“I’ll get it,” Perry announced, un-wedging himself from the mass of bodies and lifting himself up.
“Keep your wand out!” Fyfe implored him, his voice cracking slightly.
Perry strode over to the door, across the common room. He ruffled his hair before he opened the door. Orion stood on the other side.
“I hope I’m not too late,” Orion said shyly. “I’ve never been up here before.”
“No, you’re fine,” Perry grinned back. “Come on in. Welcome to the Gryffindor common room!”
Perry stood back, allowing Orion to enter, who surveyed the scene. The looks on the faces of those on the seats were a picture of utter shock. In fact, they’d have been less surprised if it had been the ghost of Mr. McGregor.
“It looks a lot cosier than ours,” Orion confessed, rubbing his arm awkwardly.
“Er, Perry,” Henry exclaimed, in sheer confusion, “isn’t that the guy who tried to beat Fyfe in a duel!?”
“Tried?” Orion said, scoffing without thinking.
“Yeah,” Perry said, shrugging. “Move up, everyone, come on, make some space.”
“Henry,” said Fyfe, “a word—"
Fyfe and Henry excused themselves from the group to have a private conflab. Perry and Orion miraculously squeezed into the mass of bodies; there always seemed to be just enough space to fit all the occupants on the sofa. Orion’s gaze, all the while, followed Henry and Fyfe concernedly as they crossed the room to a corner. Perry was just enjoying their close proximity.
“Don’t worry about them,” Perry whispered to him. “They’ll be fine.”
The room was still in stunned silence. Nobody quite knew what to make of it. Had Perry, their golden boy, lost his mind? How were they to react when they didn’t know how Fyfe and Henry were going to react?
“Now, where were we?” Perry asked the room.
Over in the corner, Fyfe and Henry remained deep in negotiations.
“How could he do this to you?” Henry whispered furiously. “Orion, of all people?”
“I know, but I suppose he’s never actually done anything wrong,” Fyfe admitted, his emotions torn.
“Whether he has or not, it’s not very loyal, is it? Why didn’t he tell us about this?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he was scared to. If Perry likes him, he can’t be that bad, can he?”
“I don’t understand,” Henry argued. “He’s scared of us? Is that why he wants another friend, because he doesn’t like us?”
“I don’t get it either,” Fyfe said, looking over at Perry. “But I guess we’ve got to be good sports and be the supportive friends we think we are.”
“We are talking this through tonight though!” Henry insisted.
Fyfe nodded, and the two walked back over to the main group, acting as though there was nothing untoward about what was happening whatsoever.
“Well, my parents can’t afford to send any more of my sisters here,” Valda was saying crossly, continuing the conversation. “Not until I’ve left, at least.”
“Professor Slytherin says,” Orion acknowledged, “that Muggle-borns get their fees paid for.”
“Muggle-borns?” Gwenda asked, her eyes narrowing.
“Yeah, people with two Muggle parents, you know, no magical blood in their families.”
“That’s so unfair,” Valda huffed.
“Yes.”
“Why?” Fyfe asked. “Perhaps their parents can’t afford to, or they don’t know anything about magic. Why shouldn’t those kids be allowed to come, just because of their parents’ ignorance?”
“Why do we owe their kids anything at all?” Orion probed.
“What are you trying to say?” Gwenda asked, her hands moving to her hips. “They’ve just as much right as we have!”
“I don’t think it’s that black and white,” Perry joined in, embarrassedly but supporting Orion. “Think about what those Muggles in Winchester did to that wizard back in the summer. They burned him alive, just for being a wizard! I bet they’d do the same to any of us if they got a chance. We need to stick together.”
“But that’s the point,” Gwenda fumed. “Those Muggle-borns need our help too!”
“Where do they get their magic from?” Henry interrupted her.
“It’s not known,” said Orion. “But Professor Slytherin says they must have a weak trace of magic in their blood from a long-lost magical ancestor who bred with Muggles, or that their parents must have tricked a powerful sorceress into cursing them…”
“That’s awful,” Gwenda cried, her hands shooting to her mouth.
“That’s Muggles for you,” Orion shrugged.
Perry tried to steer the conversation away from such divisive topics, and consequently, it became a lot lighter and more jovial after that, and the evening passed by merrily enough.
When it was time to retire, Perry accompanied Orion out of the common room. He knew his other dorm mates would have questions for him, and he was trying to avoid them for as long as possible. Fyfe and Valda were saying a long goodbye, much to Gwenda’s annoyance, and Henry had already gone up. Instead, Perry looked at Orion as intently as he could risk, unsure how much to say.
“Thank you for coming,” he said at last.
“No problem,” Orion replied, his cheeks growing red. “I’m not sure your friends liked me.”
“Oh, they’ll get on board eventually. They’re just a bit sore because of all the stupid rivalry between the Slytherins and the Gryffindors. But if you ask me, it seems more of a rivalry between Professor Slytherin and Professor Gryffindor than anyone else! Anyway, who cares if they like you or not—I do!”
“Thanks, I like you too, Peregrine. I enjoyed seeing you.”
Perry reddened at the use of his full name. “Personally, I think you strolling into the Gryffindor common room is one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen!” he laughed.
“Well, I hope you’ll return the favour and grace me with your presence in the Slytherin common room!”
“I’d like that very much.”
“I better be off then,” Orion sighed and smiled. “See you tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Perry confirmed, smiling back. “See you tomorrow.”
Oregon and his new wife Agatha had returned home. Godric had left to take Gladys back, and Salazar had skulked off to one of his hideaways. This left Helga and Rowena to tidy up the Great Hall. It was getting late, and they both felt very tired.
“It went so well,” Helga reflected, as she vanished some decorations with her wand. “I’m so happy for them.”
Rowena was battling with a particularly troublesome garland. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “I have to say, I never thought I would see the day Agatha became your mother-in-law.”
“Row,” Helga said, stopping all at once. “What is going on between Godric and Salazar?”
“I don’t know, what do you mean?” she asked, carrying on, pretending not to understand.
“Haven’t you noticed? They used to be best friends. Now, they barely speak to one another.”
Rowena’s brow creased. She was undecided whether to share her concerns with Helga or not. She made up her mind and said, “Oh Helga, I had a vision, some weeks ago, and I didn’t know what to do about it or say.”
“What was it? Was it like your last one?”
“Yes, exactly the same, but this time there was just a lion and a snake, and they were fighting each other. Oh, Helga, I thought they were going to kill each other!”
“Rowena! Are you serious?” Helga cried in shock, her hands covering her mouth. “Who? Why?”
“I don’t know, it never got to that part. They were just sitting nicely with each other, and then suddenly, for no reason, they just started attacking each other.”
“When did you see this?”
“Around the time we started the school…”
“Around the time Godric started courting Gladys?” Helga said, musing aloud, shaking her head. “It is a tale as old as time, maybe the oldest one—two friends, one girl.”
“But what are we to do, Helga? Was I right not to mention it? What if something dreadful happens? I'm really worried.”
“I don’t know, Rowena. What is there to be done? But to let nature take its course and to help them as much as we can.”
“Maybe. If I say something though, I can prevent it from happening, maybe if I intervened and they knew what was going to happen it might frighten them into not doing anything?”
“Or it could make it worse,” Helga reasoned.
Though they were both quiet, none seemed to rest easy with the choice. The last few flowers were removed. The castle was quiet and dark, but for a few flickering candles.
“Helga, I have to say something. I will have to say it eventually, anyway,” Rowena said, her expression changing. She was suddenly very serious.
“What?” Helga replied straight away, concerned.
“I don’t know how else to say this, but I’m pregnant. I’m going to have a baby.”
Helga froze, her mouth slightly ajar, unable to say anything.
“Please, Helga, say something,” Rowena fretted, in greater distress.
“Oswald,” she acknowledged simply. It was not a question, but a sudden realization.
“Yes,” Rowena confirmed, breathing quickly and shallowly. She was scared. She had never seen her friend so quiet and hard to read.
“I—er—" Helga stammered. “I need to—right,” she swallowed. “Well, it’s late. I really ought to be getting to bed.”
Before Rowena had a chance to form a sentence, Helga had shot off.
She had not expected this. What was she to do? She felt terrible. What an end to the day.