It will not surprise you that the relationship between Cuthbert and Helena slowly turned into love. Helena had understood her feelings fairly quickly. She had liked Cuthbert even when he was still a student, but it had not been love then. The idea of a relationship with a student was anathema for her. But when Cuthbert returned from University as a young man, she began to see him in a different light. And as Cuthbert grew older, the age difference mattered less.
You will understand, of course, that ghosts are not 'frozen', so to speak, on the day they die. Physically they are, of course, and Helena will look like a young lady forever. But they remain in this world, they talk, they interact, they have experiences, and they learn from them. As we all do. The Helena who fell in love with Cuthbert, therefore, wasn't a young girl, but a grown woman. A very mature woman, true, but the daily contact with young, lively people kept her own mind lively and interested in new things.
Cuthbert needed a bit more time to realise how he felt about Helena. Even a man who understands the word very well can have a bias or two of his own. For several years, Cuthbert thought people simply couldn't fall in love with ghosts; therefore what he felt wasn't love.
It was a mistake anyyone might have made, even clever people such as yourselves. Cuthbert wouldn't have been Cuthbert, though, if he had not seen his error. It was the third big revelation in his life – after understanding what his father had done and knowing that he wanted to be a historian. And this time he did feel like shouting Eureka and running around starkers.
But of course he didn't do it. There are better ways to court a woman than to flaunt your meat-and-two-veg with your hair a wet mess and foam on your nose.
Instead, Cuthbert made a lot of effort for their next evening together. He bought fresh flowers, Helena's favourite ones, pink lilies. She couldn't smell them very well, but she loved their delicate hues, the various shades of pink, and the little burgundy dots in their hearts. As we have mentioned, Helena's passion was drawing, and she rejoiced in colours.
He also put on her favourite music. There is a common misconception that ghosts only like horrible music. This prejudice is based on just one story of one boy who was invited to a Deathday with a dreadful band. I dare say you've all, at some point in your life, been to a party where the band was ghastly. It doesn't mean there's no beautiful music to be had.
Helena had a particular fondness for Purcell, and Purcell is what Cuthbert chose for that evening.
Thus everything was ready for an evening of romance. When Helena arrived, she enjoyed the flowers and the music, as Cuthbert knew she would. They talked of this and that, and Cuthbert cunningly brought the conversation to the many years they'd known each other, and the great friendship between them. And then he took a deep breath, gathered all his courage, and went down on one knee.
"Helena, dearest," he said, "It has taken me a very long time to understand this, perhaps an unforgivably long time. But what I feel for you is more, much more than just friendship. You brighten my days, you are my support and my anchor, you're the reason I want to get up in the mornings. You're beautiful and wise and funny, and everything a man could dream of. I love you."
And if you could have seen Helena at that moment, you would have thought her beautiful, too. There was nothing remotely grey about her.
But while Cuthbert keenly appreciated Helena's beauty, he had an even keener appreciation for her mind. She was nothing if not rational.
"Oh, Cuthbert …" she said. And gave him a smile that told him exactly what he wanted to know. "What you say is wonderful. It's the most wonderful thing anyone has ever said to me. In fact, it's the most wonderful moment of my life. But we must be realistic."
It was not, of course, the most wonderful moment of her life, technically speaking. But ghosts use the words 'my life' rather like a blind person might use, I see your point. Because it's an easy way to put things, a common expression.
"I am realistic," said Cuthbert. "And happy beyond words. You love me! The rest is just practical problems, my dear. We love each other!" He felt like running up and down the Great Hall, shouting, "she loves me! She loves me!" And like drawing a big red heart with an arrow and the names Helena and Cuthbert in the sky, big enough that all of Hogsmeade – nay, make that all of Scotland – might see it. (It's proof of Cuthbert's own realism that he briefly considered all the world and rejected the notion as impossible even for one who excels at Charms.)
He also wanted to sit right there and gaze and gaze and gaze at Helena, and that's what he did.
Meanwhile Helena the rational mentioned children. Cuthbert admitted that he had thought about that, for quite a long time. "And yes, if it would have been possible, I would have wanted children with you. Not just children, period, but your children. Our children. Then again, there's no guarantee, is there? If I would chose a girl who isn't a ghost – and I can't think of anything more ghastly than checking out females for their child-bearing hips – she still might not be able to conceive. Or I might not. Or we just might not be a very fertile combination," said Cuthbert. "If I were to abandon a wife because she's barren, the world would think me a cad. And rightly so. The only difference is, I know up front where I stand. I still want you."
"And then there's sex," said Helena.
"I should hope so," said Cuthbert.
Helena made all the obvious points about a non-corporeal body that just floats through other people. Cuthbert, who could be quite unconventional for a dried-up fact-spouting prune (his students' judgment, not Helena's) said it gave a whole new dimension to the word penetration.
At which they both giggled, for they could always find things to laugh about together. Helena agreed that most people who start with sex have no idea of what it's really going to be, and have to try and practice and find out what they like. And she giggled some more and told Cuthbert a very funny story – based on facts, of course – of two students who had taken a book from the restricted section that can best be described as the Wizarding Kama Sutra. They had experimented freely, right up to the point where their N.E.W.T level skills proved insufficient and they got stuck in a very, very awkward position.
They had been covered with a sheet and Levitated to the Sick Ward, where the healer had had quite a job to separate them. It was all the school talked about for weeks, and in every dormitory people had put themselves under sheets, in various positions, while their mates judged whether that was the shape they had seen or not.
"What happened to the couple afterwards?" asked Cuthbert.
"The girl was taken home by her family, who considered her a fallen woman. The Headmaster thought the same, by the way. But he kept the boy, because it's different for men, of course," said Helena, still miffed after more than a century. "But he was a good lad. He did a brilliant exam, and as soon as he had a job, he went to fetch his girl. They lived happily ever after and had eight children."
"I think I just might inform young Mister Weasley and Miss Prewett of those facts," said Cuthbert. "The part about the sheet, I mean. They've always been mischievous little devils, both of them, and now they're mischievous little devils who are madly in love. It may make them think twice about experiments."
"Perhaps they will live happily ever after and have eight children, too," said Helena. "It's really rather sweet, those two. But I do see why you don't want them to start procreating while they're still here."
"I wish them every happiness indeed, but heaven forbid they beget eight children," said Cuthbert. "What if they inherit the mischievous streak from both sides? Please Merlin, not eight children."
Which shows how very, very careful you must be when you make a wish. The Universe just might listen.
It will hardly surprise you that in the end Cuthbert was successful in his courtship. Helena and he were very happy together.
I will not bother you with too much information, Not every fact needs to be told. But the more imaginative among you may consider the word frisson and its connotations. A frisson can be a wonderful thing, and a ghost who learns just where to put her hands can give great pleasure.
They experimented with the simple frisson, just as it stands, so to speak (and it wasn't the only thing to stand either), the frisson with warming spells, the frisson in a hot bad, or in front of a fire.
And you've all heard that a ghost floating through gives a human a cold sensation, but you've understood, I suppose, that the ghost feels things, too, when traversing a warm, solid, human body? You're not the kind of people who fail to see anything beyond their own point of view, surely?
Ghosts are certainly able to experience pleasure, and if a man enjoys taking his time and can cast a warming charm on his hands – or on any body part, really – even when his mind is focused on other things entirely …
Helena and Cuthbert were very happy together, let's keep it at that.
There were, however, three things that bothered Cuthbert. The first one was fairly easy to solve. All it took was the help of an expert, and he knew just the person.
"I know I will love you forever," Cuthbert said, and he was speaking literally, too, for he thought metaphors were only slightly better than stories. "So how do I set about it? I'll want to return to you. How does one do it?"
Helena smiled. "It's easy," she said. "It's the easiest thing in the world, if you really want it. I'll tell you how it happened for me.
"When I died, it felt like fainting at first. Only, I'm afraid, much worse. Fainting is like falling into darkness, but it was as if I was hurled to a black space, right after I had felt the pain of the dagger. But it only lasted for a very brief time. Then I found myself lying flat on the ground; I didn't know how long I had been unconscious. But it didn't feel as if I was dead. Not that I know how that feels, of course.
"I opened my eyes, and I saw a sort of mist – but not really a mist. There were clouds, but not clouds that were meant to be clouds. It was more as if they were waiting to become something.
"I sat up, gingerly, the way one does when one has fainted. To see whether everything worked. It did. I put my hand to the stab wound – only, there wasn't one. I thought it very odd. I could see there was no wound because I was naked, but I didn't think that was odd in the least.
"Then I looked around me again, and the clouds took on a shape and I realised where I was: in one of the rooms in Hogwarts castle. It was a room that had been very important for me. I had taken some major decisions there. And the funny thing was, the room suddenly had two doors whereas previously there had been just one.
"I stood there and understood, somehow, that I was supposed to go through that second door. I had used the first one to come in, obviously. I mean, I didn't remember doing it, but how else would I have got there?
"And now I had to take the second door to go out. I knew it would all be over then. Don't ask me how, I just knew. But I didn't want it to be over. I felt it was the most unjust thing in the world. In that very room, just weeks before, I had felt that my life was about to begin.
"It couldn't be over now.
"It just couldn't.
"So I turned and took the other door, the one I had taken before, the one that would lead me through Hogwarts, through the gates, on the road to a new life, as it had done before.
"That's all."
"Will I recognize this room?" asked Cuthbert. "Which door is the right one – the one that leads to you? You must show it to me."
"Oh, it may not be a room for you. It was a room, that room, for me, because of the major decisions. What you see is a place where your life changed. It's different for everyone – Nick saw something else entirely, and Friar Tuck has his own version, too. It's very personal. This is why I can't speak of what they saw even to you. They're not my stories to tell."
By the way, when you read the books, you did understand, I suppose, that Fat Friar is merely a nick-name? Children will call their teachers names. But while no student in their right mind would call Professor Snape Greasy Git in his hearing, they are less considerate when it comes to ghosts. The number of times Nicholas has to remind them it's Sir Nicholas …
Friar Tuck doesn't really mind. He's an awfully jolly chap, and he possesses that rare quality of being able to tell a funny story against himself. You should hear the one about the fight with Robin, and how he had to carry him across the brook. Hilarious. Of course he has no regard for facts, and I would not recommend you to trust anything he says about his days in that forest with the men in green. A historian he is not. But a very pleasant fellow.
But to return to the history I'm telling you, Cuthbert was reassured by Helena's words. When the time came, he would have a choice, and there was no doubt in his heart of what that choice would be.
The other two things that bothered him were less easy to solve. While Helena was very happy with him, there were things in her life that saddened her. In order to understand this, you must know a bit about her history.
And I do mean history and not that dreadful tale that goes round. I know she has sometimes told it herself. After her death no-one wanted to hear the truth, and she has stopped bothering centuries ago. But here are the facts.
Helena is the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the founders of Hogwarts. Her relationship with her mother had certain similarities with Cuthbert's childhood: her mother loved her, certainly, as Cuthbert's father loved him, and Helena had early childhood memories of that love.
When she was old enough to go to school, things changed. There was the difficulty of being in the school that is run by a parent: the other students don't trust you, there are accusations of being a teacher's pet on the one side, and of not being loyal to your mother on the other.
Rowena wanted her daughter to be as clever as she was herself, and she wanted her to be her successor. Now, Helena was very intelligent, an intelligence that has matured into great wisdom over the years. But a second Rowena she was not. And she had no desire at all to teach.
What Helena wanted was to draw. I've told you about her passion for drawing and illumination, and that was what she wanted to do with her life: illuminate books. Helena wanted to set up her own illumination workshop, with both magical and Muggle customers – carefully kept apart from each other, of course, for in those days magical people suffered greatly from persecution.
Rowena wouldn't hear of it. During her Hogwarts years, Helena had to hide her drawing materials and parchments. She was very clever in doing so, for while she didn't have Rowena's power, there was nothing wrong with her magical ability and she did have what we now call a Ravenclaw mind – quite literally, in her case.
She found an abandoned room on the seventh floor and turned it into a place that held everything she required and could not be found by anyone unless they really wanted and needed to find it. Since Rowena didn't know it existed, she didn't want to find it. And if she had found the Room when looking for Helena, she would only have seen her daughter, for the Room gives you exactly what you ask – nothing more.
For a very long time Helena tried to convince her mother to let her go. She wanted her blessing and, to be frank, her financial support in setting up for herself. She got neither.
And one night, after a very acrimonious row in which Rowena actually threatened her with a forced marriage if Helena would not give in, Helena decided she had to fend for herself. She would forsake her mother's blessing, but she felt she was entitled to at least some of her inheritance. This is why she took a fairly valuable diadem. A conveniently small thing to carry, yet worth a lot, both in the Wizarding and the Muggle world.
Helena then ran off to Constantinople – the Byzantine Empire was known for its libraries and manuscripts. Have you ever looked at the illuminations in the Paris Psalter? Don't be misled by the name. It's Byzantine, and exquisite.
As you know, she got no further than Albania. Her mother had sent a wizard after her – the Bloody Murderer, for I will not call him a Baron. But Rowena had done something else, too, for she didn't quite trust her messenger. She had cast a spell, a very strong spell, for she was the most powerful witch of not just her age but quite a few ages. It was a spell that would bring her messenger back at once if he would ever betray her.
You know when the Bloody Murderer betrayed Rowena's trust. He was hurled back to Hogwarts, with Helena's dying body in his arms. I personally think Helena was still alive, just, when that happened. She felt the hurling sensation. I think she died upon reaching the castle.
Now, there's one idiosyncrasy in that ridiculous tale you've heard, and I have no doubt you have all spotted it. Ghosts are people who don't want to die, or who are very afraid of dying. Yet you were asked to believe that a man who commits suicide with a dagger is then so afraid to die he becomes a ghost. Ha!
Here are the facts: The Bloody Murderer appeared before Rowena, clutching her daughter's dead body and covered in her blood. Rowena understood what had happened and killed him.
Now, imagine a woman who is faced with her daughter's murderer, and who holds a wand and uses it. Most people will be able to understand the reaction. But while one may feel compassion, it's still murder. Rowena realised this, and she made the body of the murderer disappear. She then buried Helena's body in a secluded spot in the Forbidden Forest. The secret of its exact location has died with her.
However, when Rowena returned to the castle on that fateful night, she found both her daughter and her daughter's murderer among the ghosts. She cursed the Bloody Murderer – there's a reason he never speaks. She then told the other Founders that Helena had left. Helena kept quiet, too. Had she spoken then, Rowena would have been tried for murder and would have lost her school: worse for her than losing her life. In spite of everything, Helena just couldn't do that to her mother.
On her deathbed Rowena came up with the story of the stolen diadem. She had, by then, spent years in a castle haunted by the ghost of her own daughter, for whose death she was partly responsible. And where Helena as a ghost was bound to the stones of the castle, Rowena was bound to its spirit, to all it stood for. Neither could leave.
It must have been a living hell, and it had embittered Rowena. She had grown increasingly angry at Helena, whom she saw as the one who had caused it all by running away. And she was a very wealthy woman who knew she had to dispose of her earthly goods in some way. So she told that whole rigmarole, simply to ensure that everyone knew Helena was dead. And she made a will leaving all her possessions to Hogwarts, the great love of her life.
At that point Helena tried to tell the truth. But after the saintly deathbed of a forgiving mother cruelly deprived of a daughter's love, no-one believed her. Especially since said sainted mother had just left a fortune to the school.
There's facts and there's stories.
Now you know the facts.
And now we can return to Cuthbert and what he wanted. He wanted his beloved Helena to have the life of which she was so cruelly deprived: the life of an artist, an illuminatrix.
And he wanted to give her the other thing she craved: a home outside Hogwarts, away from the memory of her mother, away from the company of her murderer.
Yet ghosts are bound to the stones of their dying place. And they are not corporeal; they cannot hold a quill, and certainly not with any kind of precision.
So Cuthbert Binns had some serious thinking and research in his future.
