"Helena," Rowena was rasping and Salazar watched on with cold, empty eyes as he watched the sick woman reaching out for the girl who still had not come. Whether she'd heard about her mother's condition from wherever she ended up after running away no one knew, but Rowena Ravenclaw was fading faster than any of her colleagues could have guessed.

The three of them left the room and Helga shook her head.

"I will be able to have her awake and lucid for an hour tomorrow as you asked," she whispered to Salazar and Godric. "But I still would like to know that it's important before-"

"Essential," Salazar said smoothly, and Helga nodded, still looking a bit skeptical, before stalking away. "I hear your son is getting married, Godric. My congratulations to you. Jenna Peverell is a very pretty girl, should bare him many children with exquisitely pure blood."

"You know was well as I do that this is hardly why he's marrying her," Godric answered warily. "Are you sure you don't know where Helena is? This is beyond Rowena's comfort at this point. I'm worried about her."

"I promise you," Salazar admitted honestly, "I have no notion of where the girl could have gone, and if my daughter knows she tells me nothing."

Godric nodded, looking back through the open door to Rowena, who was lying in bed, muttering to herself and sweating madly.

"Christiana blocks her mind from me as a habit and has since she learned Occlumency," he whispered. "If she knows I'll never get it out of her. I would question Golda, but I feel as though it is not my place."

Salazar nodded in agreement.

Ironically, for four people who had been working together for almost half a century, the only thing they all seemed to agree on anymore was that they absolutely needed to find Helena Ravenclaw, albeit for different reasons.

Pursing his lips, Salazar said nothing of the opportunity that occurred to him as he thought of how close Megan and Nathan Wyrmthorn had grown since Helena ran away. If there was something going on there, Salazar wouldn't put it past Megan to use him in her plans. Nathan might know something.

"I will continue to pursue this and hopefully come up with a course of action to suggest for our meeting tomorrow," Salazar hissed. "Excuse me, Godric. I must... look into something."

If Godric was looking at him with suspicion it was no matter: it was no different from how he usual looked at Salazar Slytherin, and for very good reason.

Salazar walked along the cold stone corridors with a singular mind, forgetting about the proposal he was preparing for the following day, focusing only on where he might find Nathan Wyrmthorn.

"Father?"

He froze, turning around to find his daughter looking up at him with tear-stained cheeks, ruffled hair, and torn robes. There was a bruise on her face and a small trail of blood down the inside of her leg that he could only see because her robes were so inappropriately torn.

"Megan?" he said, stunned. She whimpered, stumbling backward into the classroom a bit. He rushed forward and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the teacher's desk and laying her down on top of it. "What happened?" he asked urgently. "Who did this to you?"

"It hurts," she moaned. "Father, it hurts."

"I'm going to make it better," he promised, running his fingers along the tear tracks on her cheek. "I promise, darling, I'm going to fix this. Tell me what happened."

But Megan was not in a state to be telling him anything.

Salazar was disconcerted at the state of his daughter, and he knew there was only one man he could use to get the answers he needed from.

Sometimes it was important to suck up one's pride in order to keep the plans in motion, and little was more precious to Salazar than his daughter.

He settled her in his own bed after carrying her to his quarters, carefully warding the entrance as he went to track down Godric Gryffindor, who was going over some essays in his own quarters when Salazar burst in.

"Is it Helena?" Godirc asked, standing abruptly at the unexpected entry. "Do we have some new information?"

"It could be, but my reason for coming is equally important to me," Salazar said honestly. "My daughter... Megan has been attacked and I need to know who and why. You know as well as I do that she very likely knows about Helena. This could easily be related."

"You want me to use Legilimency on your injured daughter?" Godric clarified. "I... I don't really know that it's ethical, but-"

"But we have very little other choice," Salazar replied with grim firmness.

"I will," Godric said, sighing. "Where is she?"

"Follow me," Salazar said, leading Godric to the classroom where Megan was sobbing, shivering, and whimpering on the table where her father had left her

"Megan?" Godric said gently. "Megan, how do you feel?"

"It hurts," Megan whimpered again. "H-hurts."

"Should I get Helga?" Salazar asked softly. "Do you think she's been heavily injured?"

"Hurry," Godric said, touching Megan's forehead gently. "She's losing more blood."

Salazar could feel his pulse pounding in several different places, including his throat, as he rushed away to find Helga, who hurried after him the moment he said Megan was hurt, no discussion necessary.

"How is she?" Helga asked immediately as she rushed into the room. Godric had Megan propped in a sitting position with some books behind her, her face covered in sweat and tears. "Oh, dear," Helga sighed. "She's in a lot of pain. Hold her still, Godric, while I check her over."

Godric held her shoulders to keep her from shaking, and Salazar held her hand.

After several minutes of intense Legilimency, Godric sighed.

"I've got your answers, Salazar, but we'll discuss this when she's been properly tended to."

"Thank you," Salazar said tightly, watching as Helga began patching up his daughter.

Ten minutes later, Helga was helping fix Megan's robes and helping the girl back to her quarters, where she agreed to watch over her so she could rest. Godric waved his wand to clean off the desk, which was covered in blood stains.

"What did you find?" Salazar sighed, putting his hand to his forehead and rubbing his temples.

"Nothing you're going to like, I'm afraid," Godric sighed. "She did a very good job modifying her memories where Helena was concerned, but I could tell they were modified. I don't know what she does or doesn't know at this point, so that's not very helpful. But I do know who attacked your daughter, and I get the feeling he knows something about Helena."

Salazar looked up at Godric.

"Well?" he demanded. "What happened? Who did it?"

Godric gazed at him sadly and said, "Nathan Wyrmthorn, and I wouldn't have known it was him if she hadn't said his name as he assaulted her. Salazar... he distressed her quite a lot. I wouldn't tell you this if I didn't know you needed to hear it, but he did rape her. I don't... I don't know what the purpose was, but it was horrific. I know you value ambition and taking what you want but this..."

"Taking my daughter doesn't count," Salazar growled, pounding a fist against the stone wall. "I think it's time I have a talk with Mr. Wyrmthorn, Godric. How about I promise not to kill him and report back with what I can gather on Helena in an hour? If I get nothing, I turn him over to your care."

Frowning, Godric raised an eyebrow, but after several moments of consideration, he slowly nodded.

"Agreed."

It wasn't too hard to find Nathan Wyrmthorn, being exactly where he was supposed to be, his face full of innocence and surprise when his teacher barged in, full of fury.

"Sir," Nathan said, feigning bemusement.

Salazar pulled out his wand, pointing it at his student, hoping that he wouldn't have to harm the boy. Explaining to the parents would be messy.

"I'm going to give you exactly five minutes to explain what you did to my daughter, beg for your miserable hide, and give me the location of Helena Ravenclaw. Then we will discuss what is to be done with you. If you fail to comply within the given time, I will skin you alive. Understood?"

Nathan stared at the tip of the wand with wide, terrified eyes.

"Helena's somewhere in a forest in the east! I don't know where," he said quickly.

He then proceeded to beg, indeed for his miserable hide.

The one thing he forgot, of course, was to explain what was done to Megan, but Salazar hadn't really expected that one. After all, what rapist wanted to explain his act to the father? Indeed, Salazar had rather been hoping the boy would forget that bit.

"If Helga asks," Salazar said lazily, "you are to tell her that you burned yourself experimenting. Understood?"

/-/

Helena shivered as another wind blew through the trees.

No, things hadn't turned out as she had expected.

The diadem had given her the wits to survive in the harsh eastern forest, but there were hardly any people. Starting a school would be ridiculous. She might get four, five students in the next five years if she was lucky. More likely she would only get two, but she knew she would need to stabilize herself within her environment before she could think of starting a school, and that meant survival.

Helena hovered over the fire she'd made in her hut's meager fireplace, rubbing her hands together. Christiana must have told her father by this point where Helena was, or perhaps Golda had mentioned it to her mother. Nathan had not come for her, which she felt like a stab in the gut. And Megan's plan was looking less and less attractive the longer she stayed in the forest.

But that could not be remedied anymore.

Perhaps it was mostly a matter of pride that Helena would not go back to England, back to Hogwarts, but how could she? After taking a prized heirloom from her mother, fleeing the country, and not leaving behind a word... How could she even possibly think of going back?

But she did think of it, nearly every day. She was constantly thinking of how everyone would have missed her, of Nathan finally publically declaring his love for her, of her mother's blessing, of being welcomed back into the fold, and of making Godric Gryffindor truly regret what he had done by tampering with her Sorting.

It was all just a dream, though. Helena could not go back, could never go back.

She waved her wand and watched the fire pick up just a little bit.

In a year's time, she would be ready to start building her little hut into a bigger abode, a space where she could house and teach a few young pupils. There were small gatherings of dwellings nearby, people with magical children who were hiding from the superstitious villages on the outskirts of the forest. She knew that leaders had children who were the proper age for educating. If she ingratiated herself with them over the course of the year, showed off her wisdom, there was no reason she couldn't pull it off.

The planning seemed so much more difficult now that she was in the forest, though. Helena didn't know the first thing about teaching. She roughly knew her own education, but she had been at it so many years that trying to organize all of the curricula in her mind was a disaster. The very fact that she had a year to get it done was actually something of a miracle, because there was a lot to sort out. And Nathan would be with her by then. Everything would sort itself out, just not as easily as she had thought within the stone halls of Hogwarts.

When Helena heard someone knocking at her makeshift door, she picked up her wand and squeezed it tightly, ignoring the sparks as she called out that she would be right there, pulling on her coat, still not comfortable inviting the locals into her meager home.

She wanted it to be much more polished before she entertained, to further impress them.

However, she was shocked to find that it was not a local, but a familiar face that welcomed her when she opened the door.

"I'm so glad I found you," Ernald Wyrmthorn said with a grin, following her into the forest. "I've been looking for a week."

"Shouldn't you be at school?" she snarled.

"Shouldn't you?" he countered, surprisingly respectfully. "I am here on behalf of all the founders, because they couldn't come find you themselves, and my family has... a fair amount to atone for at the moment." He sighed. "Your mother is dying, Helena. I am here to tell you, on their honor, that all will be forgiven of you if you simply come and see her once more before she passes. She pines for you."

Helena felt a twinge of guilt.

"What do you mean, atone?" she snapped, latching on to the other thing Ernald had said.

His face contorted slightly and he said, "To be honest with you, my brother has... He raped Megan Slytherin. They... they had been fooling around and he got in a fight with her and got carried away. He's gotten rather entitled lately, but he will suffer for his crime."

Her eyes opened wide.

"No," she rasped. "You're lying to me."

He frowned even deeper, his eyes narrowing slightly with hurt that made her feel strangely satisfied.

"Why would I lie about something like that?" he demanded. "I am ashamed of my brother's actions, Helena. I wouldn't make up something so horrific."

She felt her own face contort with rage.

Nathan... Nathan loved her. How could he... How would he do something like this to her? With Megan of all things? If this were true, if he had really been with Megan, what if they were just getting rid of Helena? What if Christiana had been right? What if Nathan really had done something so... so atrocious?

"Your mother is dying," Ernald repeated. "I wish you would come back with me. I don't know, honestly, what you've done, but there's a clean slate waiting for you at home."

Helena thought of the dreams she'd held of returning home, thought of holding her mother's hands in her last moments, feeling a sense of belonging, being with her friends again.

She wouldn't lie to herself and say that it wasn't appealing, especially compared with the prospect of her hard year fighting uphill to build up enough of a rapport with the locals to start her own school. And even more especially because she was going to be doing it, apparently, without the support of Nathan.

And then Ernald took her hand uninvited, smiling at her.

"You can come home," he said softly, ignoring her outraged expression as he smiled at her. "We can get married-"

"Stop," she insisted, pulling her hand out of his in spite of his efforts to hold on even tighter. "Stop it, Ernald, this is hardly the time or place to-"

"Is it because you've discovered what a beast my brother is?" Ernald demanded.

Couldn't it be because her mother was dying? Couldn't it be because she was distressed and confused and far from home?

"Stop it," she repeated. "Nathan may have made a mistake, but-"

"Helena, this wasn't a mistake! This was Nathan being Nathan and getting caught," Ernald snarled. "I know you can hate me all you want, but I won't let you be in denial about my brother. Your mother wants to see you and you're going to marry me if I want you to or not."

And that was really just about the worst thing he could have said right then. Helena just snarled at him, forgetting about her wand and smacking himacross the face. Ernald held his hand against his stinging face, standing there as she considered hitting him again.

"I will never, ever, marry you," Helena spat, deciding it wasn't worth the energy. "I'm not going back to Hogwarts. I'm not going to leave this forest, and my mother can die alone for all I care. And you know what, Ernald? I will never, ever marry you. I would rather die."

She turned to walk back into her hut, wishing he would be angry and hurt enough to leave her alone. Because he was right, if she went back to England she wouldn't have a choice. She would legally have to marry him.

What she hadn't expected, though, was to feel a sharp, searing pain in the middle of her abdomen, looking down to see bloody pooling on her coat. She saw the point of a sword sticking out of the front of her stomach and she realized what had happened.

Ernald Wyrmthorn, the suave, careful, measured brother, the Baron, had finally and completely lost his temper. He had stabbed her, and not only that, but he had stabbed her in a way that she knew, in that moment, and she started to grow woozy, was that her wound was fatal.

She turned.

"Why?" she said, watching his hand move away from the grip of his sword, stunned by his own action. "Why would you do that?"

He just shook his head, staring at her as she fell to her knees in the snow-covered ground.

"Who's the monster now, Ernald?" she whispered, eyes slightly glazed as she touched the blood on her front, gazing at it on her hand, wondering how the loss of something so ordinary could be so drastic.

"No," he muttered. "No, no."

There was one positive Helena could see in the sword through her belly.

She wouldn't have to marry Ernald Wyrmthorn after all.