"No Helena, not now. You wouldn't understand."

"But mummy, why must I always go upstairs to my room when he visits?"

"You wouldn't understand, Helena. Now go."

"No Helena, not now. You wouldn't understand."

"I want to meet him though. Mum, please."

"You can't. Not now. Go."

"No Helena, not now. You wouldn't understand."

"Mother, I should think that by fifteen I'd be old enough for this!"

"You're still too young. You wouldn't understand."

Always unable to understand. Because what could I, the only child of Rowena Ravenclaw, possibly understand? I march up the stone steps to my room, defeated, as I have been on this night for as long as I can remember. Always this night. And why?

You wouldn't understand.

I reach my room and head directly for the window. The warped green glass distorts the view of the world beyond in even the brightest of light, and the darkness veils all but the lights of the village at the foot of the great hill. If I wait here long enough, I always see it- one tiny, indistinct light breaking away from the rest, growing larger and brighter as it ascends the slope, eventually accompanied by the shorts and clattering hooves of invisible beasts. The carriage unfailing stops at the front of our manor, and a solitary figure emerges. He is indistinct through my window, but anyone could discern a towering figure, well over two metres high, a broad shouldered man. Come to see my mother.

"Rowena!" He always bellows with pleasure at seeing her face in the doorway, catching her up into a bear hug. Her petite frame all but vanishes in his embrace.

"Not out here. Some one will see."

I've never spoken to this man, but his jocularity, his teasing of my mother, it all astounds me. He and myself and dear Helga are the only ones I've ever heard address her as anything other than 'Lady Ravenclaw', or simply 'Lady'. But once they enter my home I can hear no more, as my mother has certainly set charms against it. I stand up, and wander over to the mirror that stands on the far side of my room. Every time I gaze into it, I can't help but to contrast my features with those of my dear mother's. I'll soon be taller than her, and already am I more substantial. She is like a wisp of smoke and intellectual brilliance at times, wandering the corridors or buried in her books. I don't for a moment deny that I am attractive. But in an entirely different way, I know she is more beautiful. While I have thick auburn hair, hers is black. My complexion in rosy and flushed; I appear red-faced against her whiteness. 'Fair Lady Ravenclaw', they call her. She is slender and petite, delicate and soft-spoken. I have hips and a bosom that would make the most fertile milk-maid envious, a mercifully slim waist, and my tone is about as lilting and sweet as an angry oxen. Fortunately this last is manageable, if I remember to speak in a tempered whisper. I do prefer my eyes to hers, however. Green, like sea glass, where hers are simply brown. Her face it long and eloquent- mine is rounded and strong. Her nose is long, thin, and ever-so-slightly hooked, where mine is more pert and child-like.

I suppose I must look like my father, but since I've only ever seen the face of one parent, how can I be sure?

I feel the gentlest of vibrations and know it's the man- his laughter or booming voice, I cannot be certain.

Not for the first time, I wonder who he is. Every year, he visits on this exact date; every year, I am banished to my room, and warned not to emerge until he has left. When I was an infant and toddler, a maid attended me for those hours. In my childhood, she sealed my door by magic. However, for the past three years, her trust seems to have increased. If I so choose, I could waltz into the room with them, take a seat, and pour myself a cup of tea.

If I so choose. Perhaps that would be a bit drastic. They wouldn't be difficult to spot, I'm certain. I can be quite an unobtrusive listener.

I feel immediately guilty. The mere idea of spying on my mother inspires fear, for certainly she, in all her brilliance, must know the thought crossed my mind.

But…

She's not gifted in Legilimency. She once mentioned the Salazar had been… Salazar Slytherin. I immediately asked for more information, but she closed up, like a book that was done with. A chapter in her life that was finished, never to be re-read. I could almost hear the snap of pages coming together. She was loath to speak of those days. 'It happened so long ago, when we were younger… No, Helena, we can't go visit Hogwarts, it's so very far. Aren't you happy here in Glencoe? I am… No, I don't miss it, I don't want to go back… You wouldn't understand, Helena…'

I tiptoe to my door, hand placed softly on the knob. I wait until I feel the vibrations once more, and push turn and push in one fluid movement. The noise of that man will cover the creaking hinges. As soon as the door opens, the charm is broken, and I can hear laughter.

"…I'd forgotten that, Ro! Lena was so angry with him afterwards!"

I can't hear my mother's response- even in the best or worst of moods she never raises her voice. I slip towards the staircase.

"I suppose you're right, but I thought we'd have to forget about it then and there! I do miss those days, Ro."

By now. I'm close enough to hear what my mother has to say to this.

"I do as well, Godric. As you may well imagine."

Even I could feel the atmosphere shift. If I crane my neck I can see them now, in the large hall, sitting but the crackling fire. I get my very first good look at the stranger, and remember only just in time to cover my mouth as I gasp.

The Godric my mother sat with was, in fact, Godric Gryffindor. I'd seen pictures of him, of course, everyone had, but he was truly an awe-inspiring presence. He was seated on the floor at the hearth, for none of our seats could comfortable hold his hulking size. He lounged on the stone as though it were the most comfortably of arrangements; his shaggy, fiery-maned head cradled in one hand, a goblet of ale in the other. It was this he distracted himself with as the very air grew uncomfortable.

My mother spoke first. "How is your wife then, and your sons?"

"Fine. They're all well."

"I'm glad to hear it." She certainly didn't sound so.

"I… Ro… I didn't come here to discuss… I missed you, Rowena…"

"Did you? Is that why you only bother to pass by, once a year, on this night of all others?"

"I…" He frowned. And suddenly, in a great flurry of movement, he was on his knees before her, her dainty white hands disappearing into his massive ones. "I need to come back! Especially tonight! If I don't, how will I know it happened? Did it really happen?"

"Did it?!" Rowena, springing up from her chair. "Did it happen, Godric? Have you forgotten? Has your memory left you as well as reason that I'm not entirely certain you ever possessed?"

"That isn't what I meant! It still seems so unreal… I loved you more that night than I've ever loved any woman since. For those hours, I thought I would die of happiness… Come back, Rowena. Teach again. It's not the same with just me and Helga… You'd be so proud of your students… A Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin this year; can you imagine the kind of legitimacy Salazar would have felt for that? There's nothing keeping you here, Ro. You don't have to live alone out here, without family or friend…"

"Why? So I could see you each day, farther from me then you ever were? With a wife and children?"

"I want to see you all the time. To look into your eyes…"

"I feel, Godric, that I look into your eyes every single day." He voice was quiet, but carrying. Helena felt strangely that there was more meaning to it… She glanced at Godric's eyes. They were green, smallish, and pleading. Nothing terribly significant, except that…

Those were her eyes. Helena was looking her own eyes. And suddenly, those eyes were looking back at her.

[Author's Note: It's my first ever non-Lucius/Narcissa, and I'm really uncertain of it! This is for the Halloween Capers contest at The Hideaway (link in profile). And if anyone out there has ANY ideas for what the Bloody Baron's name should be and is willing to share, I'd be forever indebted to you. More chapters soon. It'll be done by Novemder 4th, anyway.