AD 1023

Rowena Ravenclaw slowly leaned back in her chair. It was the same chair at the same table at which she did all of her literary research - spell research was of course done in a secluded area away from the precious tomes of knowledge. Over the years the padded leather of the chair had worn through, so what was once an imposing high-backed seat now showed signs of weariness, as did its owner. She had, after many years of on and off searching, finally come to what must be the stopping places in this course of research. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, feeling the aches in her back and the weariness in her legs. She was 105 years old and knew of few people who had lived longer. Legend said that Merlin had lived to over 150, but that had been 300 years ago and was merely myth. Then again, it had been myth which led her to her current course of study. Perhaps one day she herself would be myth, she pondered absently. She quite liked the idea. She wondered if they would remember her gardens of sunflowers, or the crown of flowers she always wore in the spring. Thinking of the little she know of Merlin, she assumed not.

Merlin and his King Arthur of Camelot. A rumor had reached her home in the highlands when she was young and she had apparently kept it in her mind ever since. In her little village she and her brothers and cousins had been tutored in magic by her aunt Morag. Occasionally wise women and men would pass through the town seeking knowledge, as the little valley was known to be a haven to those who possessed… unusual talents. Dangerous talents, like the kind possessed by the fabled Merlin of Camelot.

The rumor that had been brought to her village, and many decades later brought again to her attention, was easily disregarded by most. The idea that a man long dead could rise again and save them all was ludicrous. Equally ludicrous was Rowena's reason for searching - she had no desire for a return of the legendary King Arthur, but rather for his magical advisor Merlin. Of course, there were no rumors that Merlin would one day return but perhaps if he had cast a spell on Arthur he would have cast a similar one on himself.

She had thought perhaps that a potion could be created to put a person to sleep, in stasis, until they were awoken, but research had ruled that out. Though it would perhaps be possible to do, the sources of the rumors were persistent - Arthur was certainly currently dead. She had read and travelled and asked. She had come back to this little cottage in the valley where she did her best research and had devoted her energy to the study, because if ever they needed a unifying force it was now.

Salazar and Godric had parted ways. What should she have done differently? She wanted nothing to do with their bickering, and bickering was what she insisted it was. All four of them knew the importance of staying hidden from the Muggles, and for Godric to actively search out magical children of Muggles was certainly dangerous, but she could see the heroism in the act as well. These were magical children, same as they had all once been long ago, but without the gift of a family to support them. Salazar insisted that no one do magic outside of school grounds, that the worthy would hear the spreading rumors and find them, and so they accepted those of all ages who arrived and together the community of Hogwarts became a safe haven of knowledge.

For Godric to have interrupted a witch trial was foolish, she could objectively say. To have publicly wielded magic was foolish, and especially to appear so competent. Salazar insisted that the more publicly and proficiently they did magic, the more extreme the response by the Muggles would be. A few lives in exchange for peace, he promised. He wanted them to fade into obscurity, and to do their magic away from prying eyes.

Godric had, by his own admission, gone looking for magic users. He wanted to do good, to save lives, but was he endangering them by trying to save a few, especially when most people being accused at witch trials weren't even magical? Salazar argued that any public performance of magic, even to save one accused Muggle, would just cause more Muggles to be falsely accused in the long run. To him, they were numbers. But Godric refused to put a price on human life, and continued to search. By taking no sides Helga and Rowena had inadvertently chosen one. They did not stop Godric, and they of course welcomed any magic users he found with open arms.

Salazar had run the community efficiently and there had been harmony for so many years, until the number of people Godric brought in began to grow in number and speak their thoughts. It was no secret that Salazar had not wanted to save them. Why should they let him lead them? Godric had saved them. Godric, who could not dress himself half the time and often got lost in the castle, was their savior and true leader. His courage knew no bounds, but his pragmatism certainly did. Rowena and Helga had stayed to run the school with Godric and to continue, as well as they could, keeping harmony in their community of learners. Salazar had left, betrayed or betrayer or both.

They needed a new leader. They needed Merlin risen from the grave, back from Avalon, alive to teach them and learn with them and unite them. Rowena had researched life and death and Camelot and Avalon and Morgan le Fay and Mordred. She toyed with the idea of trying to bring back le Fay as a common enemy to unite her people, but if the overhanging threat of mass-murdering Muggles was insufficient she doubted an evil witch would help. Perhaps she could let loose a few trolls in the school? She would save that as a last resort.

Either way, Merlin was not returning from the grave. Rowena had studied and invented and pondered and reinvented. Body, soul, and spirit, she now knew, were the key. As the body died, the spirit went to the afterlife. But what about the soul?

It didn't matter. The soul had no memories, no knowledge and experience to unite her people behind. The soul was the essence but not the substance.

Rowena absentmindedly closed her book and rose to put it back on its shelf with her precious collection. Over a hundred books were stored in this cottage, almost half as many as at Hogwarts itself. She would begin the return journey in the morning. This may have been her childhood home, but her soul truly lived at Hogwarts, as she knew Helga's and Godric's did as well. Once she would have said the same for Salazar but now she did not know.

The four of them had together accomplished more than any of them could have dreamed. Hogwarts, a home of magic, built by and for magic users. As she walked to her bedroom Rowena wished that all four of them could live happily together at Hogwarts once more, and as she slipped into bed she thought on that dream, a happy dream where one day the four of their souls would reconvene. As she dreamed that night an idea began to bloom, an idea born out of hope and fear and magic.

AD 1979

Pandora Lovegood was making a box. Her co-workers no longer asked her about it. After the last project she had done, they weren't sure they wanted to know the answer. Her supervisor had reluctantly asked her what she was going to put into the box. Pandora had only smiled, amused.

She closed the door behind her and the room began to spin. Before it had started to slow she had begun walking across the room and was ready and waiting by the time the door stopped in front of her. She opened it and began the trek out from underneath the Ministry of Magic.

The question wasn't what she was going to put into the box. The question was, who would she take out of it?