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The Watcher

Story By StormDancer


It is not light that we need, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake.


They call me the intelligent one. They say I am wise beyond my years, even as I grow to live longer than any woman has a right to. But they are wrong. I am not the intelligent one. I am the watcher, and that is why I live while the others are long gone. I watched, and they did. Perhaps I could have stopped it, but instead, I watched and saw all that I had worked for crumble around me, along with all the love in my heart.

I had Seen it, in that far away time when I was happy and content, teaching children and guiding souls along the path. I Saw the grief a statement wrongly timed and a man who could not forgive would cause. Long ago, I knew the horror's a man's pride would make, yet I helped it along that path. I could have stopped them, but I did nothing. I watched, and so my love left in his pride and anger, furious at a friend who would not forget.

Godric was always vengeful. It was not Salazar; the one history has spoken of as evil, but Brave Gryffindor who caused the fight, who made the Dark Lords come to be. Salazar was cunning, yes, and ambitious, but he was as loyal as Godric was. If Godric had not pushed him away, Salazar would have stayed with us. Stayed with me. If I had spoken to Godric, convinced him of his misjudgment, perhaps Salazar would have stayed. But I only watched.

Helga tried to stop the inevitable, but by the time she began it was too late. She was caught in the cross-fire, and destroyed. Only I had the knowledge, had the power, to halt fate in its path and turn time right, but I did not. I watch. I do not participate.

I watch, and so I live. I knew if I had attempted to stop the flood, I might have drowned. And so I did nothing, and I live. I live in a time that is not mine, surrounded by the phantoms of my past. Enveloped in might-have-beens, suffocated in maybes. I watched, and so I live even as I die.