AN: Co-written with TheHalfBloodNerd who is very snazzy indeed. She and her Ravenclawesomeness inspired this fic and we are both really proud of it so we will be very grateful for any feedback or comments you might have - please remember to leave a review! This is a pretty iconic backstory that we have added to and adapted for character and dramatic purposes without taking away from the original idea J.K. created - if you do spot any mistakes in what we have written please point them out so we can edit the story.
Thank you, peasants. Enjoy.
Dead and Lovely
Rowena had given her daughter everything. No matter how sweet her daughter's roots had been, they had meant nothing to her. The girl was convinced she could stand up in the deep end even though she had been treading shallow water all her life. That was something the diadem could not have taught Rowena, despite its brilliance. She knew that now as she stood anxiously at her window in Ravenclaw Tower; watching the rain blur the stars and the moon.
Helena had stolen away before the sun had risen in the East and it had long since set in the West with nothing of whisper about her whereabouts. Her intention had been clear though. Rowena had woken; the diadem gone. The precious heirloom that gave Rowena her reason for power and knowledge had vanished. Unable to leave the school, she had turned to the Baron for his services. If anybody could bring back her daughter safe, it would be him. The Baron loved Helena; his devotion would not fail her. The forces of love, Rowena had no doubt, would sufficient to recover her diadem. Of course there would be a cost for the Baron to hand it over but it was nothing Rowena or her fellow Founders of Hogwarts couldn't cover.
When you're rich, everything comes with a price.
The batting of wings stirred Rowena from her thoughts as a rain drenched owl perched itself on the window ledge. The sodden letter clamped in its beak must have been of some importance for its scribe to have sent the poor bird in such terrible weather. Without much deliberation, the restless woman snatched it free from the bird's grasp and sliced it open with a flick of her wand. The brief note inside was scrawled in a hasty hand and simply read; The Great Hall. Come at once.
Had she been herself, she would have been offended by the summons but as it was, her heart gave a leap and she swooped out of her chambers leaving bird to seek refuge in the fire-lit warmth.
The Baron scowled at the murky scene before him; he had decided that the Albania didn't agree with him. The spot that Helena Ravenclaw had chosen was an undeniably bleak one. The rain dampened sand had a greyish tone and the water that brutally slapped against it promised a storm was yet to come.
Helena was stood too close to the sea to hear him Apparate. The sound of the crashing waves and sensation of icy lapping over her feet dulled everything else around her. She didn't notice he had arrived until his hand touched her shoulder, breaking her daydream.
"You've been reckless," he had to raise his voice over the noise of the sea. Helena didn't answer, she only turned her attention back to the darkening horizon. "Your mother knows what you've done."
His words caused her stomach to knot, "That does not surprise me."
"She wants you home, Helena."
"I won't," she answered bluntly. She knew if she returned now she would face a much worse punishment than living the rest of her life without motherly love and comfort. She had done what she had to do to free herself from her mother's shadow, and she wasn't going back, "You're here," she continued, turning her ivory complexion to look at him, "Does that mean you have decided to come with me?" Her smirk sent a dagger to his heart. He grasped the back of her neck with a firm hand and pressed a soft kiss to her lips; Helena remained rigid – mechanical. His affections had never been wanted, another shackle she intended to cast off.
"We should leave soon," was all he said. His tone as ever was aggressive, but that made no difference. The Baron had a volatile temper. Helena had never seen him act upon it and as such saw no reason to worry. He attempted a smile, but it was only a ghost of one. His face was tired and he knew that his efforts would be fruitless. She returned it; watching the hope play across his expression. She felt the small stirring of joy when it was extinguished.
For the Baron, there was no question about what would happen now; he had money to burn and she had the moon in her pocket. Their elopement would be as easy as the rest of his life had been thus far. The price was only a name and with it he could buy a new future. They could buy a new future. But Rowena Ravenclaw had sent him to retrieve the diadem. That was why he was here and for no reason other. His mind had long since wandered on other possibilities on the road here but, first and foremost, he must have the diadem.
The Baron leaned in close, whispering in her ear, "Where did you hide the diadem, Helena?" Confused by the question, she stepped away from him.
"What does it matter? What's lost can never be broken."
The sigh he wrought was filled with iron malice, but his face never betrayed him. Anger gleamed in the hidden pools behind his eyes but his smile was bullet proof. "Come closer."
She backed away further, brow furrowing. "Why?" suddenly, she realised that maybe his intentions weren't so foolish, "My mother told you to come." Horror turned her voice sour.
"Never," he lied, "I came because I love you."
"You are lying." She felt her dream of freedom crashing like the waves on the stormy sea.
He started towards her and she felt fear grab hold like a vice. "I'm not going back," she fought against the tremor in her voice. Still he advanced.
"You don't have a say in the matter," he drew his sword from the scabbard on his hip.
Helena's eyes found the sword as it glinted in the quickly fading light. She found herself becoming breathless at the sight of it and, knowing she had to run, fumbled quickly for the wand in her robes. Before she had the chance to Disapparate, the Baron lunged forward and grabbed her royal blue sleeve.
Dragged behind her, he stumbled off balance when they arrived in the forest. He drew his wand with his left hand to double his weaponry but Helena was already running. He slashed his wand through the air, sending a jet of red light towards her but the spell missed her in the maze of trees. It was true, a moving target was hard to hit.
"Helena!" he bellowed after her but she didn't stop. She emitted a small whine of fright as she darted between thick tree trunks, desperate to try and outrun him. She tried to picture a place of sanctuary in her mind to Disapparate again but she could see nothing clearly but the terror of what she was facing now. In blind panic, she kept going as curse after curse hurtled at her. Her lungs burned though the Baron raged as he ran.
Twisting, she fired a spell over her shoulder and, by some luck, it disarmed her pursuer. The Baron's fury was only stoked. Helena was tiring and she could hear him growing closer, ever closer. She darted through bushes, trying to lose him but her foot caught on the twisted roots beneath her. Helena fell, tearing her dress and throwing mud into the air. She struggled to stand but it was a futile attempt. The Baron grabbed her from behind, wrestling her wand from her tight grip with ease. She let out a scream but nobody was there to hear her.
"Why?" he demanded through gritted teeth, "Why do you run from what you have brought upon yourself? This is what you wanted, isn't it? A chance to spite everyone. A chance to run away." She screamed again, trying to free herself from his hold, but it was too late. The Baron brought his sword thrashing down and it slid with malicious purpose between her ribs.
It didn't seem real. He slid to the forest floor with her across his legs, scarlet blood flowing from the wound and up through her soft lips. He traced his finger along the red rim of her mouth. The Baron gazed over the tranquillity of her marble face. She was more lovely dead than she had ever been alive. He couldn't be anything but content now; what was more romantic than dying in the moonlight? Helena Ravenclaw had carved his heart out and, now, he had taken his token in return.
Rowena hurried down from her rooms in the black of the night, guided by the flickering light of a single candle. Strands of her onyx hair flew wildly about her in her mad rush. She burst into the Great Hall, doors booming as they rebounded off of the thick stone walls.
The fires roared, but it was pale silver light which illuminated the terror upon the dais. The Baron stood drenched from head to toe in rain water, below him lay a figure whose hand lay limply across the edge of the step. It was then she noticed the scarlet addition to the scene. Her daughter's once blue dress was now thick with dark blood - the Baron's doublet marred with the same crimson stain.
"What have you done?" Rowena cried, rushing forward towards her daughter. She shook violently, her sapphire eyes wide with shock as she smoothed the hair away from her daughter's face. A deathly pallor had overcome her, paler than the harsh moonlight.
The Baron sat down heavily in one of the four chairs at the high table, not caring the damage the water and blood would do.
"How?" Rowena choked.
The Baron felt bile rise and burn in the back of his throat, his eyes never wavering from the face of the woman he loved. "I killed her." Saying it was more of a sin than the deed itself. His heart, though already lost to him, broke anew in the hollow cavity of his chest.
Rowena stood from the side of the corpse that had been her one and only heir; her eyes filled with salty tears as she glowered at the man who had ripped Helena away. Her daughter may have betrayed her but Rowena had been ready to forgive her. Now, Helena had no chance for redemption and Rowena had no chance to apologise for driving her away.
"The diadem?" she managed.
"Gone," he answered with an even heavier heart.
Two tears slipped free involuntarily as she inhaled thickly through her nose, trying to ignore the stale smell that filled her senses. In one foul move the Baron had snatched away her only family and her most prised possession; the only two things that had ever truly mattered to her. A strange sense of calm overcame her then. Rowena stopped crying and straightened herself. She looked once more at the corpse on the floor and then to the man whose evil had wrought the scene. In an exchanged glance Rowena knew what she must do.
With a shaky hand that she attempted to keep steady, Rowena removed her wand from inside her cloak and, with a swift brandish, spoke, "Accio, sword."
The bloody Baron's weapon did not stir. Instead, the sword of Godric Gryffindor, mounted on the wall behind the largest chair at the height of the Great Hall, drifted through the air to rest at the murderer's feet.
Rowena lowered her wand and watched on through a lowered, dark gaze. The Baron's eyes fell on the silver blade and, now, he also saw the resolution that must be made. He bent to pick up the sword and stood from Salazar Slytherin's throne. With one final deep breath, the man drew himself taller and closed his eyes to picture his lost love in fear of what he was about to do. He drove the blade towards his stomach, but hesitated. He could not do it. Fear gripped his chest, clinging to every fibre of his being. Rowena flicked her wand, and she closed the last inch for him. His eyes bulged as he staggered to his knees.
Ravenclaw turned her back for shame as his ragged breath began to slow and swept from the hall.
The Baron stretched out towards Helena, alone upon the dais. If only he could reach his lost love, he might be able to find some comfort in death but, before he could, he convulsed with pain. He lost his senses as the vision before him blurred and fell to the stone where he bled out slowly, painfully, unable to move any further towards the love of his life, until his last wracked breath.
