A/N: For the Hogwarts Assignment #5, Magical Literature - Write about a historical event in the wizarding world that takes place before the 19th century

Warnings: Past character death, mentioned violence, Christianity mentions

Elizabeth stood at the window, her wand clutched in one hand. The grey morning was clear and freezing, though her furs were charmed to keep the heat. A small, starched white ruff circled her neck. Blonde curls peeked out from beneath a fine green hood, although today the young woman wore it ever-so-slightly askew. A fine white powder painted her face, but it did not completely disguise the darkness beneath her eyes. Her veins did not need painting; especially not today. Her pulse raced and throbbed with the vitality she was so frightened might be taken from her; with the last of the true Greengrass blood.

"They shall not approach any closer," said Professor Flint, a man of thirty-seven who stood behind her on wooden legs. "You needn't fear, my Lady Elizabeth." For now, they were only a distant shape. Banners waved in the wind, but she could not make out their markings. Her mouth was bone-dry, watching them approach ever-so-slowly towards the village of Hogsmeade. "Hogwarts is the safest institution in the world."

"I would be a fool not to fear goblins," Elizabeth said, turning away from the window. "They know all of our weapons better than we do." As to make her point, she crossed the room and touched the hilt of one of Professor Flint's daggers which hung from the wall. "They would do better to use wands."

"That would only inflame the goblins further," Professor Flint said, taking a seat at the ornate wooden round table he kept in his chambers. As the Head of Slytherin House, he had rather more room than most of the educators at the school. Rightfully, Elizabeth should have been under the eye of Professor Potter, Head of Gryffindor, but exceptions were made given Professor Flint's relation to her. Even though she had been small, she remembered witnessing the Unbreakable Vow he had made with her father, to care for her and her mother and the estates until she was suitably married.

"And using weapons they made themselves will not?" she retorted, in a way that would have been considered awfully improper if there had been another in the room.

"And if the muggles should see us, it will be certain death," added Professor Flint. "It is not worth the risks." She tugged at the ruffs around her wrists, eyeing the warped reflection of her face in the gleaming blade of the dagger. Her pulse slammed against her wrists, and a red-hot anger burned in her chest and throat. This time the goblins were rioting about the Wizengamot, but she'd grown up in a time of near-constant turmoil in regards to them; whether it was representation or wand-carrying or education, they were never happy. No matter what anyone did, it did not seem to be enough for them, thought Elizabeth. It had been an injury defending against them that had carried off her father.

"He who is making these decisions ought to be dismissed," she said briskly. "First to fight with goblin-made weapons instead of using our God-given gift, and secondly, to set aside half our possible forces because of sex rather than skill." She turned round, pale face glowing red. "Do you think the goblins dismiss their fighters because they have the ability to birth children?" It was coarse to speak of, and Professor Flint lowered his eyes and snapped his fingers at one of the house-elves for another drink. But Professor Flint had known her since she'd been in swaddling clothes, and during her time had often acted as both father and nursemaid in her mother's prolonged absences.

"The Hospital Wing is being run entirely by women, Elizabeth," Professor Flint told her. "The role is just as important as fighting."

"I know," she said, wringing her hands together. "But should those who know best how to heal not be healing, and those who fight best be fighting? I am a much better duellist than Edward - both Edward Black and James Longbottom, and yet they have been sent out to fight while I am supposed to wait behind dutifully. James would be better put to use if he were making potions, not wielding a sword." Elizabeth began to pace, frustration coursing through her and producing a large knot behind her forehead.

"There's naught to be gained by fretting," said Professor Flint. "Elizabeth, why do you not go to Gryffindor tower and observe from there? You could write to your mother, she would be glad to hear from you. Or else you could work on holding the wards. There is plenty for you to do, rather than complain to a cripple." He tapped his cane against the floor. She tugged at the small ruff around her neck, and turned again, clasping her hands tightly.

"I cannot sit and wait," she told him. She then flung herself into the free chair, and rested her chin in her hands. Elizabeth looked up at him through faint lashes. "Professor. Please." The man stiffened as he realised her request.

"I would be abandoning my word. It shan't happen, and you are a little fool for thinking it." His voice was stern, but beneath, she could hear the pity in his voice. Her nostrils flared. Her stomach tightened. Pity would not stop the goblins from cutting down more men, more boys, her companions and friends and even Edward. Even the thought of his name sent a pang of longing through her chest. Logically, she knew he was too clever to be caught, too quick and too light on his feet, but he had never been strong with his defensive magic.

"Who is there to represent House Greengrass, if not I?" she asked, straightening and changing tactic. "We shall seem cowards."

"Every man in the country knows you and your mother are all that is left, and they shall not wonder why you were absent." She slammed her fist down on the table, ignoring the pain that shot through her arm.

"I want to fight! It is all I am good at - you've seen me in my classes, you know I have more talent than the boys in my year put together. With my wand, I could easily defeat the goblins on my own." Professor Flint inhaled sharply. Elizabeth jerked her head. "Don't laugh at me!" She grabbed the hilt of the dagger, and held it carefully. Then, in one fluid movement, she threw. With a bang, the dagger impaled itself into the table, splitting the wood.

"My Lady Greengrass!" Professor Flint said, getting to his feet. He waved his wand and levitated the dagger from the table. "This is ridiculous. Childish tantrums will not persuade me."

"I apologise that I am not willing to sit idly while wizards are slaughtered," her voice was quick and her eyes flashed fiercely.

"You know I only forbid you because I am sworn to. I must act in your best interests, and regrettably, these are not them." The two locked eyes. Softening, if only for a moment, Elizabeth saw him for his age. He had acted so often as a father-in-lieu to her, in spite of having no children. At his age, it was not unheard of to even have grandchildren, if one's child was not skilled enough to complete the advanced years of a Hogwarts education. And yet he had no family, barring her and her mother; his own parents were dead, and the head of his household was a distant cousin with whom he often quarrelled. He sighed.

Elizabeth crossed the floor, reaching to take the hands of the older man. He shut his eyes, and kissed her forehead. "I vowed I would not knowingly let you be harmed," he said. "I will not lose my life so that you may risk yours." She looked up at him, and his eyes opened slowly. They searched one another, holding each other's hands, and Elizabeth ran her thumb across his palm.

"I will see I come to no harm."

"You cannot swear that. It is in the hands of God."

"Do you have faith in my abilities?" She squeezed his hands harder, looking for an answer. He pursed his lips, but squeezed back. "You know me," she said. "You have known me since I was small."

"That I did not," he replied, "and I may not be feeling so. I care for you as if you were my own daughter." He pulled his hands away, turning around, as to not face her. She straightened, heart beating quickly. "Out!" Professor Flint yelled, putting his hands to his head. "Now, and to your chamber, and nowhere else!" He strode to the door and threw it open. His eyes were glistening, and she pretended not to see.

"I will do as you command, but I will not do it merrily!" she yelled back, stepping through the door, for the pleasure of any passers-by. She could not thank him for this, could not put him in danger of the Vow's repercussions. It took all her willpower not to look at him, not to call to him. She would have to make it back alive. It was the very least she owed him.