~ Of Fleeting Dreams And Evanescent Hearts ~

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: This is for Shira Lansys' 'Speed of Lightning' Competition. This round, the task was to write a story over 6,000 words in three days.

...

[[Chapter One: Watching Stars And Uncanny Eyes]]


Helena walked the corridors of Hogwarts castle, her long hair tumbling over a long cloak, and grey eyes shining in the moonlight that poured through the windows lining the walkway. The night was her favourite time of day, as it seemed so hushed and magical, and she loved the way the stars watched her every move with a half-hearted curiosity.

It made her feel like the most important person in the world, with a million unblinking eyes upon her.

Sometimes she would hear the distant notes of lyres in the night, usually the product of her mother's restlessness, and it would make the castle feel like a haunted ruin, dark and quiet, save for the reminiscent sounds of people long past.

But she would have to correct herself, for thoughts of superstition and ghostly tales were the fancies of muggle peasants with their ramshackle huts and fire-side stories.

She could not pretend, however, that the thoughts of tragic spectres reliving the last moments of their sad, sad lives over and over again did not fascinate her. There was something so inexplicably distressing about the thought of existing an eternity, always living in a past one cannot hope to regain, or move onwards from.

But once again, she had to chide herself for such foolish, whimsical thoughts.

She paused as she reached the opening to the archives, and breathed the night in deeply. There was something intensely thrilling about stealing into the empty rooms at night and reading silently in some abandoned alcove, with only the wavering flames of an oil lamp to see by.

She did just this, lighting a lamp as silently as she could, and carrying it to one of the shelves, where she placed it carefully beside a large tome. Helena began to stroke the spines of several books, before selecting one that interested her.

Taking it to a high-backed seat in the corner of the dim room, she placed the tome on the desk, careful not to spill any of the burning oil from the lamp on it. The last thing she would need was the whole castle awoken by a fire, only to see her staring woefully into the flames, and whispering behind her back about what a disappointment she was to her esteemed mother.

Yes, her mother was highly intelligent, beautiful, wise and kind, but Helena was none of these things. Not in her eyes. She had an intelligent mind, yes, but was nothing compared to the great Rowena Ravenclaw. She was pretty, but not in comparison. She was not wise, and she was as far from kind as one of her status could be.

But it was not her fault. It was the idle talk of the other witches and wizards at Hogwarts that had made a once gentle and loving spirit into the bitter, resentful young woman she was now.

She knew she had it in her to be just as wise and perfect as her mother, but the others did not see that in her. One day, Helena would show them just how intelligent she was, and then they would all have to repent their cruel words and accept that she was a worthy heir to the Ravenclaw name.

Was that why she read so much? Was there a secret part of her that was searching endlessly for some way of increasing the potency of her mind, to surpass her mother in every sense?

Helena could not answer those questions, not for sure, but something deep inside told her she was right.

And so she read on…

)O(

It was daylight now, and Helena strode about the castle, head held high and nose in the air. She was not going to let the taunts of her fellow students get to her. She was a Ravenclaw, both in name and spirit, and she was intelligent enough to know that the thoughts of others mean nothing in comparison to your own thoughts on yourself.

She was strong, and knowledgeable, and they would not pull her heart into a state of sadness or depression. She was a noble woman, haughty, perhaps, but noble and unworthy of such sour treatment.

There was one boy, however, who never treated her as though she was some bastard child to the Ravenclaw name, undeserving and pitiable. He was a short-tempered, hostile young man, who was of the same age as her. He was cold and stoic, and often angry, though he tried not to inflict that upon others. He was a baron, heir to the Von Bruckelberg's estates and wealth, and a very powerful man.

This young man was also in love with Helena.

He had tried not to, she could see, as he pushed her away and avoided making any contact with her. But she always caught him staring at her, and she could see the love in his eyes. She was seventeen, but not a fool.

Bryant Von Bruckelberg wanted her, she knew that, yet she would never return his feelings.

It was not that Bryant (or the Baron, as everyone called him) was not of a marriageable material, as she knew it would be a smart match. And he was very handsome, with his chiselled jaw line and captivating eyes, but his temper was too much, and her standards were too high.

They would not be good together. She was intelligent enough to know that.

Still, he always seemed to be present, lurking in distant corners of the courtyard in the day, or hiding behind a book in the archives in the evening.

She found him to be a nuisance at first, but after he began to scare off those who wished to speak unkindly to her, she found him to be a comfort.

But then he became unbearable, with his suffocating presence and uncanny eyes. Always watching her, always staring…

She'd had enough of it; enough of the whispers, of the abuse, of the constant presence of the Baron.

Helena Ravenclaw needed to get away, to escape the suffocating castle and her mother's shadow.

It would be done. And as soon as possible.

There was just one thing she needed in order to make sure she could one day hope to rise up, more powerful and more intelligent than her lady mother.

It would be done…