The Wee Folk

The End

Sarah felt fear; but it was not hers.

She could taste copper in her mouth, dimly she realized it was blood, and that it was hers.

All around her was darkness, she could not tell if her eyes were opened or closed, and she could feel nothing except the fear.

Suddenly, in the darkness a blinding light flared and she looked away (could she look away?). When the light dimmed, Sarah realized that the light was coming from a thread, a silver thread, and she reached out (did she have hands?) and grasped the cord, tightly. It cut into her skin and, slowly, she could feel her body once more.

Her limbs were heavy, nothing felt right, but she forced them to move. One foot in front of the other, when she stumbled-which was often-her grip upon the thread tightened until it reminded her that she was still alive (was she?).

Sarah followed the thread until the darkness dissipated and her eyes fluttered open...

...to see a pissed off, if relieved, King looking down at her.

"You should know, by now, that it takes more than an old cane to kill me." Sarah stated with a strained smile as her hand, still heavy, moved to the area above her heart.

"Shut up and be grateful." Jareth commanded as Sarah's hand touched smooth, if sensitive, skin.

"See, this is why we have bonds and mates and all that fun stuff." Sarah declared, ignoring his request, as she hauled herself to her feet.

"Because you are idiotic and, even after over two thousand years, always forgets to watch your back?" Jareth questioned as he waited at the ready to catch her if she fell.

"No, because you are too proud to admit that your were afraid of losing me." Sarah declared as she smiled at him and then lost her smile as she took in her beloved school.

The Castle, once proud, laid in ruins, just as its students did. Sarah saw the bodies, saw the tear stained people, and knew she could not help them.

But she could help Hogwarts.

By her hand, the castle had first been made, she had put in a few safety measures. Pulling out a dagger, Sarah slit the palm of her hand, and allowed her blood to pool on the floors, greedily drunk by the parched castle.

"Blood magic." She heard Hermione muttered, or a muttered it sounded to her, as everything around her became foggy, as if she stood within a cloud. She felt the power draining from her body, felt her mind merging with the castle, felt her body falling, felt Jareth's, ever ready, arms catching her, felt the sorrow that hung so stagnantly in the air; she felt so much. Hogwarts cried out, brokenly, so many had died, numerous had given their lives, and nothing could be done. No amount of sorrow would fix the families left behind, no tears would fill the emptiness inside where happiness used to be, nothing would make the grief lesson.

But she could give the fallen a memorial. As her blood was soaked up by the castle, she nudged the sleeping stones with a though, mended the broken areas with a suggestion, and reformed the building, with a few additions. Out of sight, where students would one day see, was listed the names of all who had fallen, muggle and wizard, student and teacher, mortal and immortal. The stone would one day shift, the names would one day be displayed proudly at the main gates, but today was too soon of a day. Sarah formed a new room of requirements, cots and supplies appearing in abundance, a hidden room of defense appeared, in case students need ever a place to practice, and a room with a pensive, one that would replay the scenes of the battle, for any who wished to see the truth. Sarah felt Hogwarts groan at her presence, sensing that a higher being was manipulating it, even a familiar one was not completely welcomed, and she was forced out of the stones.