For the first time in her life, Helena was beginning to see the possibilities of a life with love in it, like the love that Flint and his fiancée Jenna Peverell shared. Megan had pointed out casually the key to her freedom, and it looked more attractive than she could have imagined.

If she stole her mother's diadem, Helena would be the clever one, the wise one, and combine that with her natural talents in areas her mother conveniently didn't notice, Helena would be able to run away with Nathan, and everything would be perfect. Why hadn't she thought of it before?

Christiana hadn't liked the plan, and was very vocal about it when the four girls sat down to discuss it by the lake. Golda didn't say what she thought, but Helena could tell it made the girl uneasy. Megan simply smiled as Helena told them how she thought it would work.

"I don't know," Christiana said slowly. "I mean, Nathan would go with you, but do you really think your mother would just let it go? I would think she would send someone after you. I mean, where would you go? Everyone would know the diadem was stolen. There's only the one."

This was a good point. She couldn't stay in England. Everyone would know what she had done. The diadem was famous.

"I'll just have to go away, then," Helena said, "until she's dead. I'll have to go far beyond her reach. I can start my own school. There's not likely to be institutions as fine as Hogwarts in the forests far east of here."

"Nor is there likely to be very many people, much less witches and wizards," Golda reasoned softly.

But Helena was past reason. She couldn't stay here with the diadem, but stealing the diadem would be her freedom, so she had to leave. Where exactly would she go? Did it really matter as long as she made it there, wherever there was?

"There are sects of witches and wizards," Megan said calmly with the air of someone who had done research, "in distant forests in a place called Albania. My father told me that there are small colonies there, banding together to hide from the persecution of Muggles. Perhaps you could find one of those. I daresay with the wisdom bestowed upon you by the diadem they might make you their queen."

Christiana frowned and Golda looked frightened, but the idea appealed to Helena very much.

"What about Nathan?" Golda said softly. "What will happen with him?"

"What of him?" Megan said quickly. "If he truly loves her, he will understand the need for her to do this. After all, it's the only way he could ever have her, to follow after her. If they're married abroad, Ernald can't possibly expect anything from Helena."

Christiana frowned more at this, this brilliant idea that Helena liked so very much. "I suppose it would be counted as legal," Christiana said slowly, "this foreign marriage? They aren't always, you know."

"Christiana, darling," Megan drawled, "we're witches. We'll make it legal. Don't worry so much and stop being so negative. It doesn't suit your complexion."

Indeed, Christiana flushed, probably with anger and embarrassment. Helena couldn't help but wonder why her best friend was being so negative, so against the whole plan. Perhaps she liked being the most powerful of the four and feared, like her father, what could happen if Helena got what she deserved? Perhaps she wanted Nathan and didn't like the idea of Helena actually getting the man she loved? That seemed the most likely, given the comment about the marriage…

Later that evening, she snuck away with Nathan, his head resting on her lap as she told him of the plan. His face showed no emotion, and when she finished he said softly, "Are you sure you want to do this, my love?"

"Of course!" she cried. "We'll be together, finally and your brother won't have any say!"

The small smile that formed as he thought about this disappeared almost as quickly as it ghosted onto his face.

"Are you sure that's even what this is about?" he said. "It just seems to me this is more about your bitterness toward your mother and Gryffindor than about us."

"Can't it be about both?" she reasoned.

"Of course, darling," he whispered, "it just seemed like the sort of vindictive thing that Megan would come up with, and I don't want you getting caught up in something that could end so messily unless you're absolutely sure it's what you want."

He sat up, kissed her forehead, wrapping his arms around her lovingly.

Helena couldn't help but wonder if there was something going on between him and Christiana, if that was why they both seemed so against the plan that could bring Helena and Nathan together at last.

"What do you think of Christiana?" she asked, kissing Nathan's jaw gently.

He frowned at her, confused, and said, "She's a nice enough girl. Why?"

"Nothing," Helena lied. "Just curious."

Nathan raised his eyebrows, suspicious.

"My love, I've been taught by Slytherin. I can spot even the best of lies when I see it. What's bothering you?"

"It's really nothing," Helena balked. "Honestly, Nathan, I was just asking a question."

She knew he didn't believe her, but he didn't press the matter. That either meant he was hiding something or had decided she wasn't going to tell him what was wrong, anyway. He certainly wasn't going to tell him, so perhaps it was just as well that he didn't press, but Helena half wished he would.

"Your mother will be upset," Nathan said quietly after a moment.

"Let her be," Helena snarled. "Her precious diadem should be mine by right by now, anyway."

"Not about that," Nathan sighed. "About losing you. She'll be upset to lose you. I know you don't believe it, but she cares about you, Helena."

Helena just shook her head.

"I wish I knew what's gotten into you," Nathan sighed. "You're worrying me."

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Something was off lately about Helena Ravenclaw, Salazar decided, watching her behavior. She was planning something, and whatever it was put those closest to her on edge. Christiana, Golda... Even Nathan seemed concerned. The only person who seemed, if anything, happier since Helena's strange behavior had begun, was his own daughter, Megan.

"What are you planning?" he muttered as he watched his daughter walking in from a courtyard, a smile on her face.

She was jealous of Helena, of course, and of Christiana. The only one of her friends who never outshone her in anything was Golda, and Golda didn't mind those sorts of things. Megan was very talented, very beautiful, and perhaps had she been raised in other company she would have had the world at her fingertips, but as it was, she had to combat the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw girls for any sort of attention, and usually lost.

Salazar watched Megan stroll down the stone corridor, head held high as he'd taught her, face a cool mask of indifference that had always come so very naturally to her. Once, she had been his pride and joy, his greatest achievement. Now he was hoping she wouldn't interfere with his plans for Helena, his new protégée.

"Megan," he said smoothly, falling into step with her as she walked past his perch. "I hope you're not neglecting your studies."

"Are they not satisfactory, father?" Megan drawled, not looking at him as they continued to walk in step.

"They are not as good as they could be."

"I apologize, I shall work harder."

"Indeed. There seems to be something troubling many of the students in your year, daughter."

Megan did not seem fazed by his pointing out the anxiety surrounding whatever was going on with Helena. Of course, he'd taught Megan not to be fazed by much of anything, so it wasn't any real indicator of how she felt about or understood events. He knew she wanted Ernald Wyrmthorn's attention. What he wasn't sure about was what she would do to get it.

"Is there?" she said casually, pausing to adjust her skirts before continuing walking as though nothing was wrong.

"Megan," Salazar said sternly. She did not respond. "Megan, I don't want you ruining things for me."

That got her attention. Salazar so rarely said what he meant that Megan dropped her own pretense of ignorance just out of acknowledgement of his behavior.

"How can I avoid such, father, if you keep secrets from me?" she said firmly, but then turned on her heel and walked away from him before he could respond.

Salazar didn't follow her. There was no point. He wasn't going to get any more out of her and all he could do was try to puzzle out if she was going to ruin things and see what he could do to counter her actions. Unfortunately, he'd trained Megan a little bit too well, so he couldn't trust that even if she told him something that it could be the truth he was looking for.

/-/

Megan could feel her anger burning in her belly as she made her way back to her room, but her face remained a mask of cool calm that she was known for, the mask that she had inherited from her father. Nathan Wyrmthorn was sitting in the armchair she expected him in and he smirked at her when she arrived.

"Upset, darling?" he drawled. "You look out of sorts."

Of course, she knew she didn't really look any such thing. Nobody else in the castle would have even guessed that she was any such thing. Nathan just knew her a bit better than everyone else.

"What would make you think that?" she sighed, sitting on the arm of his chair, draping her legs and skirts over his lap teasingly. "How is our darling Helena?"

"Dead set on your precious plan," he said, his lips curling into a smirk. "You did quite a good job on her, I must say."

Megan ran her fingers slowly through his dark hair.

"Good," she whispered, letting her finger run down his cheek. "Now we have to make sure she manages to carry it out."

"She will," Nathan said, his face suddenly turning serious, the smirk she so adored falling from his lips. "Helena's very capable, and she knows exactly where the diadem is kept. It shouldn't be difficult for her at all."

Megan, smile still plastered on her face, slapped him hard across the face, her nails digging into his skin enough to leave a few trailing, bloody wounds on his face.

"Helena is a little, disposable puppet," Megan whispered in his ear as he visibly clenched and unclenched his hands, itching to hit her back. "Don't you ever forget that, darling. Or have you already fallen for her?"

Nathan's eyes flashed and he gave a low, dangerous laugh.

"Give me a bit of credit, darling," he whispered, pressing his lips to Megan's.

There was no love between them, not really. Megan liked the way his lips felt on hers. It was little more than a chemistry between the two of them and a shared desire to bring down those who could challenge them. Helena, Ernald... They were easy. Christiana, that would be the trick. Megan was determined to accomplish what her father seemed somehow incapable of doing: Bringing down the mighty Gryffindors. How she would do it, Megan didn't quite know yet, but that could wait for the moment.

"How about," she whispered, "I heal those marks on your face and give you a few more in a less visible place?"

Nathan smirked against her lips, regaining his cool, something he'd not needed her father's tutelage to learn.

"That," he drawled in that way that made her shiver, "sounds like your best idea yet."

Megan led Nathan back to her quarters, her hand feeling so familiar in his, and she wondered if Helena ever made him cry out her name like Megan could.