The light fades away to reveal a candlelit chamber that is decorated with bronze metalwork and blue furnishings. The carpeted floor is a blue carpet with delicate bronze-colored threads. A pale wane figure lays on the bed, her once dark salt-peppered had turned white overnight. Her dark eyes are closed as she breathes shallowly, and a light sheen of cold sweat can be seen on her forehead. Her once beautiful but austere features have faded away from illness and sorrow. The once proud and mighty Rowena Ravenclaw now stood at the precipice of death.
Standing on either side of the bed are two figures, one is that of Marcellus, and the other is that of a round, plump witch with long brown hair streaked with silver in a braid, Helga Hufflepuff. Helga's warm and cheery blue eyes are filled with sorrow and weariness that had not been present before. Her usual warm smile is gone from her face and instead wears a somber expression. She forgoes her usual brown or gold dress and instead wears a dark color of mourning in lieu of the death of Rowena's daughter and that of the Baron.
Holding back her emotions, Helga reaches over to dry the cold sheen upon the brow of her dear friend, Rowena, who does not move nor seem to feel the movements around her. Helga withdraws her hand, before pulling the blue curtains decorated with bronze eagles shut and around the outstretched prone figure of her friend.
With the bed curtains firmly shut, Helga turns her head to see the worried figure of Marcellus. "Where is Godric?" She softly asked lest they disturb Rowena's rest.
Marcellus tiredly shakes his head and says, "I could not stop him, Helga. He departed with no known return on a fool's errand that holds no hope of being achieved."
"We will never see him again, Helga," Marcellus whispered in painful honesty as he met with Helga's blue stricken filled eyes.
"That rash temper of his," Helga whispered in pained exasperation, "it was always worth far more trouble than its worth."
Helga paused, "Is there truly no hope in Godric returning from his quest?"
"No," Marcellus truthfully answered. "We failed to united much less divided. And we are the few that remain for now."
Helga sighs and brushes a straying hair back and behind her ear. "Then what can be done now, Marcellus? Surely, there is something."
"Nothing more can be done, Helga," Marcellus said without hope. "All that is left to wait is for our deaths. And it will have triumphed over us."
"I refuse to believe that Marcellus!" Helga loudly retorted in a determined fashion and narrowed her eyes at Marcellus. "There is always something to be done! Now I ask ye again, what can be done?"
Marcellus stares foolishly at his plump friend before a resolute expression appears on his face. "We ward Hogwarts and bind the land as best as we can for generations to come."
"Good," Helga said, before turning to stare at the closed curtained bed of Rowena. "I am not blind nor a fool, Marcellus. I know that foul thing seeks to enter these grounds."
Marcellus's expression is one of surprise as Helga continues, "I have felt it once before on those terrible nights and once again." She paused to turn and stare him right in the eye. "And I also know that is why Salazar left and what Godric seeks to achieve even if that ultimately results in his untimely demise."
"I wasn't certain," Marcellus finally answered after a period of silence.
"Rowena is not the only one, who can hide her thoughts," Helga replied with a glint of mischief in her eyes before her gaze turns solemn. "But I digress, and so I must ask now, Marcellus, what will you ask of us?"
"That which can be freely given," Marcellus sincerely replied.
Before Helga can reply, the bed curtain is suddenly pulled assigned to reveal the pale, white-haired figure of Rowena. "Then I shall gift what is left of my intellect and wisdom," Rowena gasped as Helga hurried over and aided her weak friend into sitting and resting against her pillows.
"There is no need, Rowena," Marcellus moved to decline.
"I must rectify what my blindness and arrogance have cost," Rowena wheezed before a fit of coughing overtakes her. Gasping for air, she breathlessly says, "My time is nearly at an end, my friends. And I must atone for my past faults which have led up to this day."
Coughing once more, Helga summons a chalice filled with water and holds the cup to her friend's lips to drink. Panting, Rowena drinks, before resting against the pillows in exhaustion. "Please Marcellus," she implored for the first time in her life.
Unable to see his proud friend begging him, Marcellus nods his head as Helga bites her lips and holds her tongue. Turning to gaze up at her friend with a pleading gaze, Rowena says, "Please aid in crafting this for me, Helga, and in turn, I shall pour all that I have left into the creation."
Helga blinks back the sheen of tears from her eyes, before gripping her wand tightly in hand and pointing her wand at mid-air. From mid-air, out of utterly nothing, sparks begin to go off as from mid-air a silver-like dagger is forged. The minutes pass by until at last a glowing silver-like dagger floats gently over to Rowena to take.
Rowena firmly grasps the quill in her hand despite her obvious weakness and pours all her remaining magic therein. She wheezes as she chants, "Liga est magicae, Brilliance, Wisdom, Intellect. The one that should possess this dagger shall dive into great mysteries and resolve them to destroy that which should not exist. My life for this gift, so mote be."
The silver dagger glows with a blue-like light followed by a bronze-like light. Rowena lets out a loud gasp and shudders before her hand becomes limp and falls to rest onto the bed. The silver dagger remains in mid-air, while Rowena's empty gaze remains fixed to her final creation. It was without a doubt her best creation.
Helga stifles a sob as she gently closes her friend's eyes, while Marcellus with a trembling hand takes the floating dagger. There is a lapse of silence as the two of them attempt to formulate their emotions and thoughts. Finally, Helga in a quivering voice whispers, "I shall prepare Rowena for her burial. Go and hide Rowena's last gift, Marcellus, it must not fall into the wrong hands."
Awakened from his stupor, Marcellus swiftly casts a spell upon the dagger to hide its presence, before hiding it on his person. Moving to turn away, he pauses for a moment, before saying, "On my journey in the land of the Gaul's, I met a soothsayer, who was the daughter of a wizard and a beautiful hag."
Helga's figure becomes utterly still as Marcellus continues, "And you, my friend have always had a gift for crafting that even rivals that of the goblins. So, I must ask Helga, my beloved friend, just this once and if you will answer truthfully, but do you bear their blood?"
Helga is silent as she gently strokes the hair of the still-warm body of her dear friend. "My mother though powerful and from a good lineage was the daughter of a wastrel, who had squandered his family's fortune," she quietly explained. "Over the hills and through the forest there lived a great goblin clan. During one of my mother's many forays into the forest for food and herbs, she met a goblin by the name of Ranuk. They became friends and even grew to become lovers."
Marcellus shows a visible trace of a surprise but does not interrupt his friend's tale. "However, for all their love they could never be together for Ranuk was the son of Ragnuk, the First, the great Goblin King. And my mother a witch would never be accepted by my father's people. But still, that did not stop their tryst and they continued to meet until at long last my mother succumbed to nature and found herself with child."
Helga paused, before continuing, "And so, my mother with great emotional turmoil told my father, and despite the opposition that would arise, they still wed in secret beneath the great magic stone ring. However, war came, and my mother left to hide and give birth, while my father marched into battle against the muggle armies. But alas, my father never returned and perished on the battlefield."
A twitch of a smile appears on Helga's face as she turns to gaze at Marcellus's face. "And then I was born, and to my mother's great joy and sadness, I was born looking far too much like her. As it is, I bear no trace of my sire except for my overwhelming fondness of food and my gift for magical forging. I suppose that it was one last final parting gift from my sire to ease the life of my mother and me."
"A princess, I would have never guessed," Marcellus drily teased.
Helga startles at the reply, before letting out a low chuckle. "Yes, and most unbelievable truth, but it is indeed the solemn truth."
Marcellus turns to gaze at Rowena's cooling corpse, before turning to say, "I must depart now, Helga."
"Wait," Helga called out as she lifted her sleeve to reveal a silver goblin armband that bore the royal goblin crest. With great care, she removes the silver armband and holds it out for Marcellus to take.
"Why?" Marcellus asked in great puzzlement. "Will, you, not leave such a gift to your sons and daughters?"
"They know not of my father and mother's tale," Helga regretfully said. "And though I did care for the sire of my children, he would not have understood either."
Marcellus accepts the silver goblin crafted armband, before saying, "I shall hide it away with Rowena's last gift and alongside Godric's blade. Perchance, someday one of your descendants shall find it."
"Perchance," Helga said with a quiet laugh. "But if they do, the armband is proof of their royal lineage. And the goblins must abide by the precedents of old and acknowledge a child of such lineage regardless of the blood dilution."
Marcellus refrains from asking Helga, why she or her mother never turned to the goblin nation. However, he held his tongue as it was not his place to ask. And even the best of families has hidden secrets. And as far as secrets went, well, he had heard far worse.
The memory breaks with a roar as Rowan, who is in shock is pulled away into another swirling memory. She was really starting to get tired of this, before everything whirls away into spinning madness once more.