a heart is a heavy burden

But she’d be lying if she said that was entirely a good thing. She sighed, her whole body shaking with the force of it, and looked out the window. Calcifer was in a good mood today it seemed, and the castle was moving along at a steady pace. Outside the hills were bright green, apparently not effected even though there seemed to be a bit of a drought going on. Wild flowers dotted the landscape, and she noticed a flock of birds soar past. Once the rocking of the castle made her a little sick, but now it felt natural, just like talking to a fire demon, just like cleaning up after a heart snatching wizard. 

“I love it here. Everything about it––well, except those beetles I found in the bathroom. Really, being a housekeeper might be the best job I ever had. I just worry…about that witch. And what she did when she––mmmmph mmmmph MMMPH” of course, her mouth zipped shut. Just like she knew it would. Nostrils flaring, she tossed the dress back in its box and stamped her feet. 

A field of flowers, one Howl had frequented often when he was a boy. One he was sure barely anyone visited or knew about aside from himself. He’d have to talk to Calcifer, see about getting one of the dials on the door changed. He was finding less reason to visit Atlantica these days anyway. Howl grinned enigmatically down at Sophie, not sharing the cause for his sudden excitement, and gripped both her shoulders in his hands.

It was then that he realised she had been talking. “Oh! The beetles. I do hope you left them alone too, it’s bad enough you’ve been chasing the poor spiders with your broom- “ He fell silent when Sophie’s mouth suddenly clamped shut, clearly not of her volition.

Right. The most sure-fire way to guarantee Sophie’s happiness was, of course, to break the curse on her. And well, he was trying. And sometimes he thought he might have finally done it. There were moments where he thought he saw flashes of what Sophie really looked like, at her proper age - braided grey hair suddenly brunette, wrinkles gone, back not bent like a listless tree. And he’d get his hopes up, only to have them fall a second later when Sophie croaked at him to get out of her way or he’d get a face-full of broom bristles.

She turned her attention back to him and almost gasped when she saw what the boxes held. Clothes, just for her and if she could guess, they’d fit perfectly. She leaned towards them, blinked once. Then blinked once more; her eyes weren’t quite what they used to be. 

“For me?” she lifted up the dress, way too fancy for a simple housekeeper. It was all way too fancy, but then again that’s how Howl worked. She almost chuckled to herself. What else could she expect from someone who could spend hours primping in the mirror? And it was primping too, no matter what he called it. “Howl…But this is all so nice!”

New clothes. Suddenly, her mood went from shocked and grateful to something like sadness. There had been something reassuring about washing her own clothes every day and putting them on again in the morning. That’s what you did in a temporary situation, when you were waiting for something in your life to be fixed so you could go back to normal. She had spent so much time here, and enjoyed her independence just fine. But what if she would be like this forever? Cursed by that terrible witch. 

“Agrabah? I suspect I already know who the lady might have been, then. She’s been back at least three other times about the same spell, and I keep having to tell her that transport spells simply do not work the way she wants them to.”

Howl grinned at seeing the surprise on Sophie's face as he handed over the clothes. At the store, he had explained to the retailer that the clothes were for his “mother”, and though they had been very nice in their own right, he may or may not have whispered a few words to them to make them even better. Although he’d known her long enough now to know that Sophie generally didn’t care for the finer things in life, surely everyone appreciated being treated to something nice once in a while.

She grabbed the broom again and moved it furiously back and forth. Just because she was old didn’t mean she couldn’t do the work by herself: carrying buckets of water up and down stairs, scrubbing floors from sunrise until the next sunrise. She really put her back into it, and clouds of dust swirled around them. “Oh!” she cried before a fit of coughs shook her body. 

“See? Now we can see the floors? Aren’t they lovely!” she said. Truthfully, she wanted to see Howl because she’d been a little lonely. Markl never seemed to want to chat with her (he was always busy practicing spells) and Calcifer was awful cranky lately, about something Sophie wasn’t sure about. So she thought she might strike up a conversation with the Wizard, and if she could convince him to not leave his socks everywhere too, then that was just a plus. 

She potentially didn’t hear any of this, having gone back to attacking the floor with her broom. Howl shrugged, and just hoped that the message had gotten through to her. He lifted a sleeve to cover his nose and mouth when the dust suddenly billowed around them, before lifting the other hand to clear it away with an unspoken spell. It was one that would linger, too; clearly, the old woman wasn’t anywhere close to stopping, and he’d rather she not cough and hack herself into an early grave.

“Yes, very lovely,” he replied, looking not at all at the floor. He looked at her, eyebrows drawn together. “Aren’t you at all tired? I’m exhausted just looking at you.”

Suddenly remembering something, he crossed the room in long strides around her, heading for a set of drawers in the corner. He replied to her as he went. “Oh? I’ll have to look at that later then. Which door was it, the city? Agrabah? The Outlands?”

Sophie had been in Howl’s castle for…how many days now was it? She wasn’t sure. These days some things just escaped her memory, and she would stand in the middle of the room for several minutes just trying to remember what it was she was supposed to buy at the market that day. Anyway, Sophie had been in the castle long enough, and it was as though she’d barely made a dent in all of his clutter. 

“Use some elbow grease, ol’ gal,” she muttered to herself as she pushed the broom across the floor. She swept a layer of dust away only to reveal another layer of dust. With a groan she propped the broom against the wall and straightened. 

Howl stared up at the ceiling above his bed as he lay on top of his covers. He wasn’t moping. He was contemplating. In between the tinkling of the various magical trinkets he had in his room, he could hear Sophie muttering to herself in the next room over. The sooner he broke the curse, the better, both for her and for the state of his castle. His poor spiders.

Now she was shouting for him, something about rabbits. Maybe if he lay completely still, her elderly eyes wouldn’t be able to register him lying on his bed.

Oh, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t set the new cleaning lady on fire, Calcifer. I’m almost certain she’ll repay you with a bucket of cold water to the face, and that won’t be very pleasant for either of us. Besides, I’m growing rather fond of her.

Her thoughts halted as Howl moved his hand over it, casual as anything. His hand moved carefully, confidently, as though wiping off spells etched into the furniture was just something he happened to do often. There were many things she was going to have to get used to if she was going to clean house-clean castle for him. 

“Your heart shall soon be mine.”  What on earth did that mean? All these mysteries, all these secrets, all this magic. So far it seemed to do a lot more harm than good. Sophie was almost certain she was done with sorcery for the day, thank you very much, and especially where that witch was concerned. Why, once she found that horrible woman she was going to show her exactly what she was capable of, even as a hunched over old lady!

Howl spoke again, as cordial as ever as he took out the tea cups. Was he, did he just-Did Howl just insinuate that she was friends with the witch of the waste? Sophie almost knocked over the kettle and she scowled, her brows knitting together and the sagging skin of her chin quivering furiously.

"That witch? I don’t want anything to do with her! She’s the one who-mMPH-" Sophie’s mouth clamped shut as if someone had fastened a zipper to her lips and pulled. She kept trying to make noise, but the sound would not form themselves into words. And if that didn’t just get her riled up. It would be so easy to say "the witch did all of this! It was her!" but no, she had to stand there in front of Howl humming and growing redder by the moment. 

"When I find that terrible cow I’m going wring her fat neck!" she spat, slapping the counter with so much force that several books and three more potion jars fell over and cracked open. A rainbow of liquid oozed out of them and Sophie stood there shaking for a bit. 

He added sugar to both cups of tea, and handed one to Sophie. “I get the feeling you’ve met Calcifer already. There’s also one more occupant of this house, my apprentice, Markl. You can have the room next to his."

Howl began to stir his tea without ever touching his spoon, his finger drawing lazy circles in the air. There was a sudden knock at the door, and Howl got up. 

Calcifer wasn’t present to tell him precisely which door was being knocked upon, so it was left to Howl to cycle through them, open the door and check. The Outlands, Agrabah, Radiator Springs.

On the fourth try, he got it. Howl opened the door to see Disney City sprawling out before him, where a second ago had been an old dusty town. The man at the door was requesting to see the Great Wizard Jenkins about payment for an order of magical ingredients, and Howl obliged before closing the door.

She snorted when Howl mentioned he liked his home that way. Cluttered, unorganized, and beneath a nice thick layer of dust. That was certainly no way to live, and especially as a wizard! Why, one wrong thing knocked over or bumped-or opened by a curious old lady- and you could cause an explosion or something! Once everything was put into place, Sophie made a mental note to scold Howl about it later. 

For a moment she worried that the poison would have some sort of adverse effect on her, and that was all she needed. More adverse effects. But Howl didn’t seem to have any concern about it, so she tried to let the matter drop. 

Sophie winced as Howl moved to the kitchen bench and unceremoniously wiped it clear with his arm. The dust rose and she coughed and good grief, hadn’t anyone around here heard of a duster? When he handed her the kettle she mumbled a thank you before coughing again, hacking and shuddering. Her lungs ached more than they should and she shuffled over to the sink to fill the kettle.

Howl busied himself at the stove while Sophie worked the kettle. That had gone easier than she’d thought. No asking who had hired her, no forcing her to leave. He hadn’t even seemed that upset about the potion, though by the looks of the castle he didn’t seem that particular about appearances. 

She thought of the witch while she worked. More than anything she wanted to tell Howl about what happened but she knew there was no use. She could almost laugh at the irony: she was staying in the home of a powerful wizard and she couldn’t even get his magical help! Thinking of the witch only seemed to make her tired, however, and she leaned against the sink and closed her eyes…

She jumped once Howl spoke. “What?” she asked, startled. She didn’t have anything in her pockets. Maybe a few dollars, but nothing Howl should be interested in. Pulling away from the sink she stuffed a hand in the pocket of her dress, eyes widening when she pulled out a folded piece of paper. Bright scarlet, there was no way she would have missed it.

Or didn’t need it. He turned and raised an arm in alarm as he noted what jar she was holding. “Oh no, not that jar, that has deadly nightshade in it. The other one.” Close call. "I expect I'll have to start labelling things a little clearer, now that we're taking you on as cleaning lady." (Howl never lived up to these words.)

Howl moved closer as Sophie began pulling the square of paper out of her pocket. That definitely looked familiar. As he reached for it, it began to smoke and scorched his hand where it had touched. The paper fell to the table and left a mark as clear as day. The mark of the Witch of the Waste.

It was all Howl could do not to shudder as he thought about her, but he kept his composure. One foolish mistake, one idiotic pursuit of the wrong woman in his youth and he was left with a vindictive witch on his tail for the rest of his life. No, not just one, two. Lest he forget the Enchantress.

Two old hags after him. It was a wonder he managed to get up out of bed most days. 

No doubt the Witch of the Waste had resorted to going after Sophie after noticing his visits to her hat shop. She had always been prone to jealousy. Most likely, she had been the one to cast the curse on Sophie. Howl felt a twinge of guilt at that; he had never meant for Sophie to get caught up in this.

He read out what the ancient symbols spelled, "Your heart shall soon be mine." Well, not if he had any say in it.

“What an ugly mark, it won’t do to have that on the table." Howl brushed his hand across the table surface, and though it burned his skin, when he was done the mark was no longer there. He would have to up the concealment and camouflage spells on the castle, perhaps tell Calcifer to move the castle elsewhere.

Sophie was searching for something to wipe her face with when she heard the voice behind her. She jumped; well, as good as a woman her age could jump. Her eyes widened, and she stared at the potion that was slowly running through the floorboards. Uh oh.

With a slight tremble she turned around and frowned. All she had to do was explain who she was, and since she couldn’t just say what happened maybe she could make up something nice. The witch of the waste, that was the point, all she had to do was make sure Howl understood that she had to get to the witch of the waste as soon as possible.

Except she wasn’t sure she’d be able to speak at all. Even though he had no interest of stealing her heart-she was more than certain of that- and even though the tightness of his smile confirmed that he was not happy about the potion oozing across the floor, Howl was a very disarming man. Sophie opened her mouth and then closed it. Then she glanced back at the floor before trying to explain herself.

"I thought it was jam!" she gasped. "I was looking for food, something to make a nice dinner. It’s getting late you know, and there’s all this," she gestured around wildly, "mess! So I thought I’d clean up a little and make something. And I found that jar and thought maybe it was a nice peach preserve, or maybe some strawberry jelly-"

Wait… was that? There was a flash, and suddenly the old woman was no longer old, but young, and now Howl was certain he recognised that braid and those eyes. Sophie, the girl at the hat shop. He blinked, and she was old again, her wrinkles belying her true age. 

As she began to explain who she was and why she was there, Howl moved wordlessly over to where a clean rag lay nearby and handed it to her, thinking all the while. He folded his arms, beginning to be a little amused with the old lady’s blustering words. 

“Mess?” He lifted an eyebrow. “This isn’t a mess, this is how I like to keep my home.” Howl found her claim of being the new cleaning lady highly suspect, as he was certain neither Calcifer nor Markl would have taken it upon themselves to hire one. Nevertheless, it appeared as though “Grandma Sophie” had decided to stay.

Well, he’d let her stay. For as long as it took him to break the curse on her. Howl always did love a challenge. He didn’t plan on mentioning this to her, though.

“We do.” He walked over to the kitchen bench and cleared a little space on it with a sweep of the arm. Normally it would have irked him to allow dust and who knows what else (okay, so maybe the castle was in a bit of mess) to settle on his sleeves, but his clothes were already caked in dirt and sand and decaying bodily fluids, and so he was already of a mind to consign it all to Calcifer to be burnt. It was a shame. He rather liked the way he looked in this outfit.

As soon as the door shut behind her and Sophie realized she was alone, there were many things she wanted to do all at once. She wanted to sit by the fire and get dry and warm; she wanted to find a nice blanket and pass out in the corner, sleep for hours and hours; she wanted to make herself some supper because goodness, when had her stomach started rumbling so badly? And finally, deep deep down she wanted to curl into herself and maybe cry for a little while, because her circumstances had changed so much in the past few hours she didn’t really know what to do with herself. If you had asked her just that morning how she felt about turning into an elderly woman by a witch and moving into Howl’s castle of all places by that evening, she would have pursed her lips and said she had to go back to work. Now she could only shake her head and laugh.

She decided to search for some food first, because she worried that if she sat down in front of the fire now she’d just sink into the warmth and go to sleep on an empty stomach. No, she needed to find some food so she could take plenty with her when she left Howl’s castle. Because if Howl found her-oh well, she had never been in any trouble about the whole heart situation had she? And certainly not now, she chuckled, reaching up to touch her nose fondly. There she was, shivering and cold and at least eighty years old in some strange man’s castle, and she was laughing more than she had in months.

There was only one problem: the room she was in was a total wreck. Trinkets and baubles and dirty dishes piled everywhere, with layers of paper scattered this way and that. Why, you could move with barely so much junk lying around. Sophie could feel her blood pressure spike just looking at it. “Calm,” she muttered, then she placed her hands on her hips. “I should just stay- what on Earth!?!? There’s enough stuff for seven hundred garage sales in here! I’ll just have to clean up a little so I can find my way around. Hmmph.”

She pushed up the sleeves of her dress and shuffled across the floor. She poked here and there, trying to sort the objects into semi neat piles. She came across a modest jar with a ribbon around it, and smiled at what she thought were preserves. With shaking fingers (blast it, when had her fingers started to tremble so horribly?) she opened the lid and was greeted by a puff of green powder.

He had no idea who had taken it upon themselves to awaken the dead on Christmas, which didn't sit well with Howl, for he always liked to know everything that was happening in Disney. And there was so much happening lately, what with the King in a state of near-death and every kingdom in an uproar about the assassination attempt.

As long as it didn't all end in a stupid war. Howl hated wars, fights and the like. They were pointless things, causing destruction and loss of life simply because the people at the top couldn't agree on something. And they happened so frequently in Disney, what with every tiny garden patch of land being ruled over by a different "king" or "queen".

The castle greeted him with its customary clanking and groaning, but something seemed a little off. Unfortunately, neither Calcifer nor Markl were anywhere in sight, and therefore were not available for questioning. Howl kicked off his seven-league boots - which allowed him to cross from Atlantica to the Hundred Acre Wood in mere minutes, seven leagues a step - and they sat in a corner, tossed to the side without ceremony, much like everything else in the house. 

Suddenly, he heard someone's voice in another room, someone who sounded decidedly different to Markl or Calcifer. Upon entering the room, Howl found that an unfamiliar elderly lady had her back turned to him. Howl could tell instantly that she had been cursed; one could always tell, if their eyes were quick enough and they knew what to look for. Unfortunately, it was the type of curse that didn't make its effect obvious, even to Howl, so he was left to wonder at what exactly the consequence had been.

It was then that he noticed the smashed jar at her feet. A jar which had previously contained a potion that took Howl the better part of a year to make, a potion which was now seeping into his floorboards.