Helena Ravenclaw was hiding.
She had run away from home years before, after stealing her mother's diadem. Etched upon the intricate surface were the words: Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure.
She was one of the first students to ever attend her mother's school, but that didn't mean anyone noticed her. It was always about her mother, the wise Rowena Ravenclaw. No one ever had time to listen to the ideas of the lesser Helena Ravenclaw.
So she had stolen the diadem, in hopes of becoming cleverer and more important than her mother. Helena had run away from Scotland, from Hogwarts, and from her mother, the very person she sought the most approval from, all the way to Albania.
So far, her plan had been successful. With the diadem upon her long raven-colored hair, she had been the wisest, smartest person in the country. People from all around came to her for advice, for answers to questions and riddles otherwise unsolved. And she acquiesced, for a fee. Soon, she was as wealthy as she was famous. But still, not as famous as her mother, one of the legendary founders of Hogwarts.
Helena remained in Albania for many years, but secretly wished to return home. She missed her mother terribly, despite their differences and her jealous aspiration to overtake her. She was proud, too proud, just like her father, Godric Gryffindor. She couldn't help being half-Ravenclaw, half-Gryffindor anymore than she could help being born with black hair or gray eyes. So she stayed in her secret dwelling deep in the forest of Albania, venturing into town and returning to her private abode at night.
One day, Helena noticed a familiar face for the first time since she had first left home. It was an older man, with a long graying wig upon his large head. The former Slytherin named Arnold Barnes still commanded attention and respect in his fifties, and when Helena saw him staring at her from the village square, she knew he had come for her, and her alone.
She tried to hide from him using magic, but the stubborn man was a wizard too. She holed herself up in a crowded pub, but he followed her inside and scanned the sea of faces for her. She knew that he would not stop until he found her and made his intentions known.
Helena escaped from the back of the pub and sprinted for the thick black trees in the gathering darkness. The diadem gleamed upon her head. Afraid that the precious item she had stolen would be repossessed from her, she quickly hid it inside of a hollowed-out pine tree and turned to flee to her secret house.
Right behind her was Arnold.
She was unable to stifle the gasp of fear that escaped from her parted lips. She drew herself up to her fullest height, but she felt cold and vulnerable without her mother's diadem upon her head. She stared into the beady eyes of Baron Arnold Barnes and held her ground.
"Greetings, my dear," Arnold said, cheeks pink. Helena felt a rise of revulsion and fought it back down. The old fool had harbored feelings for her ever since she had graduated Hogwarts, and that was over fifteen years ago. She had never been interested in the rich, portly man, not only because he was twenty-six years her senior, but because he was just like her mother: trying to quench her relentless thirst for knowledge, trying to smother out her fiery passion with rules and regulations.
"I cannot say that I am happy to see you, Arnold." Helena responded coolly.
"My sweet, how long has it been?" Arnold simpered, trying to disarm her with his charm. It didn't work. "Ten years?"
"Perhaps." Helena replied coldly. "Why are you here?"
Arnold blinked. "Surely you must have guessed by now."
Helena felt indignant fury rising and fought to keep her temper. "You have come to reclaim my mother's diadem for her."
Arnold's eyes widened. "No, Helena. Your mother is deathly ill and has only weeks left to live. She has clung to life on her deathbed in hopes that she will be able to see a final time."
Helena felt as if the breath had been knocked from her. Trying to gather her bearings, and turned from him, shocked. "You are certain?"
Arnold Barnes made a noise of assent. "She awaits your return, my sweet." He hesitated, then added, "as do I."
Revulsion sparked her wayward temper. Turning to face him, she glared into his piggy face and felt nothing but disgust. "You, Baron Barnes, are wasting your time and your flattery."
But he was as persistent as ever. "Surely you must have suspected my affections for you run deeper than that of a friend. I love you, Helena, and wish to make you my wife upon your arrival home."
He took her hand into his and stroked her wrist lovingly with his thumb. Helena jerked back roughly.
"I will not return to Scotland!" Helena said angrily. "Leave me! You have no business coming here. Leave, I said!"
But Baron Arnold Barnes had a temper to match, even overtake, Helena's. Face turning red, he grabbed her forearm roughly. "I've had just about enough of you, lass!"
Helena tried to break free, but his grip only tightened. "You're the one who wants me to… Arnold, you're hurting me!"
"You've embarrassed your mother, and you have embarrassed me!" Arnold shouted, inches from her face.
"You're the one who always made a religion of following rules!" Helena shouted back. "You can't tell me what to do or tell me how to live my life! I am smarter and cleverer than my mother ever was. You're an old fool, Arnold Barnes, and you will let go of me!"
"You're acting like a child." Baron Arnold Barnes bellowed, releasing her roughly.
"And you're a beast!" Helena shouted, forgetting all sense of caution, completely bypassing the small voice in her head that desperately begged her to calm down. "That's what you are! I'll never love you! I'd rather die than marry you!"
Baron Arnold Barnes gasped, as if she had reached out and struck him. Then he stormed toward her, brandishing a knife he had drawn from his belt. "You are a daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw!" He shouted as he came for her. "And I expect you to act like one!"
Helena felt the first white-hot stab of the knife. And the second, and the third. On the fourth stab, the Baron finally stopped, looking aghast with remorse.
Helena raised her bloody hand from her punctured stomach to examine it curiously. It was so vibrant, the color of the blood that sustained her life. And so fragile. Without it, she would surely die. It was leaving her so quickly, staining the resplendent robes of the Baron crimson with her life's flow.
She was dead within a minute.
Sickened with himself, horrified at what he had done, Baron Arnold Barnes turned the knife on himself.
Helena Ravenclaw did return to Hogwarts, but as a ghost. Arnold Barnes accompanied her, but kept well away from the love of his life that he had sent to the limbo between the worlds of life and death. Helena was not able to bade her mother farewell, who departed this life and into the next realm after death when Helena and Arnold failed to return within the month. And so Helena remained bound between the worlds.
Her mother's lost diadem remained hidden in the tree, deep inside Albania, until one day, nearly a thousand years after her death, a strange, charming boy by the name of Tom Riddle approached her and asked her about the whereabouts of the object. He promised to destroy the tiara, to redeem her and end the relentless pursuit of her mother's diadem.
Drawn to his charisma and allure, she told the story of her life when she had breathed air and blood had run through her veins, and where the stolen diadem was safely concealed.
The Gray Lady had no idea what she had done.