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Let me take you back to fourteenth century Verona, Italy. A three day long relationship between a thirteen and seventeen year old has resulted in the deaths of six people. That is, as Taylor Swift may say, a Love Story.
Or maybe you refer to the romance between Eadaz and Sabran. The love that shattered a religion and brought upon itself the end of a thousand year dynasty.
Perhaps the greatest untold story of all generations is the one between two of the founders. Whilst Salazar and Godrina were fighting and arguing over Hogwarts’ future, cupid had struck for Rowena and Helga. If that isn’t the true Love Story, I don’t know what is.
Rowena and Helga caused no conflicts, ended no dynasty, and saved lives instead of ending them. Whilst this may seem like the bear minimum, pop culture would have you believe that to be so abnormal that it seems impossible.
That is how we find ourselves now, in eleventh century Britain. Rowena was often described as the most intelligent amongst the four founders. Deeply interested in the study of magic and how it worked, Rowena’s students were those who did not wish to yield magic as a tool to serve one's self, instead something to be researched and appreciated. Helga, the fairest of them all, cared for one thing, and one thing only, when setting up Hogwarts. More concerned with the student’s well being than their prowess, her exams were based on consistent improvement.
They were sat in the kitchen, a safe haven from the arguments. Godrina had seemingly forgotten how to get in, having to ask for help procuring her bowl of porridge one morning after being late to breakfast. Salazar didn’t even know of the kitchen's existence. As long as bacon appeared on his plate he didn’t care.
“Godrina’s taken it up a level. I’ve had to let Salazar’s students into their dormitories after she charmed the door to spray them with octarine water instead of opening” Rowena said.
“I’ve had to clean up after Salazar turned the Gryffindor tower into an infinitely looping staircase. One of the poor kids had been walking around for over an hour.” Helga replied.
“Honestly, and every time they’re in an argument - which is to say, always - they drag us in and force us to pick sides. I’ve been terrified of leaving my classroom.”
“Yes! That’s exactly what I was thinking. On the way down here Godrina forced me to choose which breed of dragon would be better as a pet, because apparently they both have dragons now.”
“What we need is some secret passageway between our common rooms.”
“I hate to break it to you Ro, I’m in a basement. You’re in a tower. I think they might notice a secret passageway.”
“You said Salazar did spatial manipulation. If he can do it on his own, surely we can manage it together. It’ll just be some simple runes. Find the vectors for the doorways and find a function that maps them together. With you there we can work backwards for any problems we encounter. Let's go, come on!”
“Ro, slow down. Think.”
“I have thought, I know how to do it, let’s go.”
“Ro, I love you, but seriously slow down. You know how it works, but how are we implementing it? Will it be hidden? Will we tell the students? Will there be a password? Where will the passageway actually be?
“Ohhh. Ummm. I suppose it should have a password.” Rowena paused, “If it goes to outside the common rooms we wouldn’t need passwords.”
“I suppose it should be hidden. We could let the students know, but you know how Godrina is. She'd find it before we’ve finished making it.”
“She’s so, much. She’s great with the kids, and brilliant at magic, but do you ever think about how the school would be if it was just us.”
“The suits of armour wouldn’t challenge you to a duel, that’s for sure.”
“Helgs, there wouldn’t be suits of armour. It can be all open, with big stained glass windows. An organ in the main hall to create an atmosphere.”
“And no giant squid in a lake that we make the first years cross in the freezing cold?”
“A nice smooth pathway with heated carriages.”
“And no sorting into houses that define their friendships for the next seven years?”
“No sorting at all.”
“It would be nice, wouldn’t it.
“It’s a bit late now though. Best just improve the school we already have.”
Helga nodded, “By… making that passageway?”
Runes, as it turned out, were complicated, especially when working on a living castle. For the sake of not confusing the reader (and definitely not due to word count limitations, or my own sanity; not all those who wonder are lost, after all) the exact working of these runes is unknown, but rest assured that Rowena and Helga set them up correctly and safely.
In the end they’d settled on having the common rooms connected together, without a password. The connection was hidden behind each respective fireplaces, with the unused floo powder network being altered to open the passageway to the corridor.
The corridor itself served as a mini common room. A selection of sofas surrounded a fireplace on one side, whilst the other housed an exact replica of the Notre-Dame de Paris’ 8000 pipe organ. So exact in fact, that it was actually the one from Paris, a magical copy being left behind in place (just don’t tell the French Authorities). Why they didn't just get a magical saxophone or something was a mystery. Rowena was currently working the organ, starting to play a song that closely resembled a death march. It wouldn’t have been Helga’s first choice, but no matter what Rowena played, it was beautifully poetic. She could coax the tears out of a troll and turn them into gold
“Ro, this place is beautiful. Make me a pact. We will always do our bit to make this place a happy, safe place.”
“Always,” Rowena said. She pulled out a knife, and drew a line across her palm, before handing the knife to Helga. Helga hesitated, then committed. Their blood joining them in this pact for life, and beyond.
“So, there’s just one thing left to do.” Helga said.
Rowena tilted her head, asking for more information.
“Pick a flower for this vase.”
“Ummm.” It was a male voice. Not that of Salazar. One of a young child. A child Rowena recognised as Cliv’, “Do you h’ar the organ?”
A truly unique combination of characters was walking around the halls of Hogwarts of this day. Merman Draco Malfoy, Sirius Black, Amelia Blair, Firenze (who was looking mighty hot, if you don’t mind me saying), and Heathcliff, had all been transported from their various times into a hallway none of them had ever ventured down before.
A ginormous organ, covered in dust, sat on one side, the other a bed. Clumsily written above the bed was “James and Lily were here” as well as a tally marker that reached well over 100, titled “Home for SUMMER”.
Questioning gazes fell on Sirius. His only response was “We were all teens once. Lily was bloody Britannia in the war, if this is how she spent her free time then so be it.”
Amelia was the one to respond, “From what Harry told me, you’d be the one with the Home for SUMMER, I mean, I’ve heard about what happened between you and Firenze.”
Merman Draco spoke next, “What happened between you and Firenze?”
“Nothing happened.” By the shade of red Sirius had turned, he was lying. Conversely, Firenze was seemingly glowing with pride (which only made him look hotter)
“Oh come on dearest Siri, everything happened that year. As much as Filch may be my favourite caretaker of recent years - he never sought to get rid of us, which is a massive improvement over the last few - the amount of times he caught us in a comedically large broom cupboard gave him plenty of reasons to hold a vendetta over you. Not to mention the time that you got poor Pettigrew to mind control him just so you could get that map back. I’m not sure he ever recovered. Although, I suppose that Tom guy before him was quite nice”
At the far end of the corridor was two graves, sharing one plaque, reading
“The tale of ghosts, long forgotten to the modern age remains ever important. Here lie two graves of people who died in happiness, and ask upon those reading this to also fill their lives with happiness and joy. Happily married, with two dogs named Paulo and Roberto (who were at one point the head of the Mafia), Rowena and Helga are the true star crossed lovers, mated for life and forever after. Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure, but always be true and unafraid of toil.”
Uggh, what happened there. Sorry, I think the timelines got muddled up, back on with it.
“Gryffindor ask’d m’ to giv’ you this l’tt’r, sh’ said it was of vital importanc’.” Cliv’ said to Helga. It read
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"Huh, this note's weird."