Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K Rolwing.

Chapter 54: A Good Boy

-Daphne-

Potter was sitting on the Gryffindor table, smiling shyly, listening to something Weasley was explaining to him. Granger was nowhere to be found.

"I could cry," Tracey said next to me, relieved.

I tore my gaze away from the boy. "What is it this time?"

Tracey closed her eyes and smiled pleasantly. "Friday," she said simply. "It's finally over."

"Classes begin in two days," I pointed out.

Her eyes fluttered open to reveal a pair of glaring eyes. "Yes, but there is a Hogsmeade weekend. That'll make it feel like two weeks."

I rolled my eyes. "Who is your poor victim this time?"

Tracey folded her arms. "None of your business." A smile crept onto her lips. "Is there someone who will become your victim soon?" She glanced, incredibly unsubtly, towards Potter.

I gave her a warning look. "No."

"Reaaaally?" Tracey gave me a disbelieving look.

"Yes. He's an idiot."

She raised her eyebrows. "Hmm. I don't believe it."

"You better believe it, it's the truth."

"If it is the truth, then why do you sometimes come back to the common room with that small smile on your lips?"

I looked at her blankly. "I genuinely don't know what you're talking about. If I do, it is most likely because I managed to get a spell right."

Not a lie.

Tracey shook her head. "Look, I don't judge. Just go for it if you want to."

"'If you want to'," I quoted. "That's the problem, I don't want to." I pinched my nose. "He's an idiot. He–" I lowered my voice. "He forced me into a marriage, he turned me into a fucking pig, he insulted me more times than I could count. Do I need to go on?" I hissed.

Tracey smiled and held her hands up. "Woah, take it easy. It's your choice, Daphne." She gave me a knowing smile. "It's just…" She paused and waved her hand. "Nah, forget it, whatever."

"No, tell me. What were you going to say?"

Tracey sighed tiredly. "It was just some really cheesy, sentimental stuff."

"Oh? Please go on, dear friend."

She rolled her eyes. "Look, you're constantly glancing over at the Gryffindor table." Tracey held her hand up to silence me. "And he's constantly glancing over at our table." She shrugged. "I mean… I wonder why?"

"What are you trying to say?"

Tracey shrugged. "I don't know. Just, don't think about what everyone else will think about you, just go and have fun, yeah?"

-()-

–Hermione–

I woke up early on Saturday. For the first time ever, I would visit Hogsmeade without both Harry and Ron.

I tip-toed around the dormitory to make sure I didn't wake Lavender or Parvati up. Lavender returned late the previous night.

As I descended the stairs I spotted flakes of snow falling outside. It was early December and the cold was biting. This was the first snow, however. It would be a beautiful day.

Michael and Justin were waiting for me in the entrance hall with nervous looks. I smiled at them. "Shall we get going?"

They nodded, and together, we found a carriage which carried us down to the old village. I sighed, relaxed and stared out the window.

I could feel their gazes on me.

Slowly, I met Justin's eyes. I did as Helena had told me, as I had many times before. Get into the house and simply refurbish. I could see the spark of desire ignite in his eyes, as it always did.

I broke the gaze and did the same to Michael. Their eyes shone with excitement from just being in my vicinity. They were happy, just for the fact that I allowed them to hang out with me.

No one ever looked at me that way before.

It felt so good. The satisfaction flowed through my veins of fire. It was like a drug, I couldn't stop doing it.

Soon, if I told them, they would fight each other over me.

I smiled and looked out the window. They were best friends, once upon a time.

Not for the first time, I found myself thanking my master, Helena. She was invaluable.

There were few students walking the streets this early, so we had no problem navigating the various stores. All of a sudden, Michael broke away from our group and approached an older woman.

The woman had an ugly scar running over her face. She smiled at Michael warmly and embraced him tightly, as if she would never see him again.

That was too normal these days, with the war going on.

The war had to end soon. If only Harry would allow me to help, soon.

What if…what if I used what I had learned on Harry?

I gulped, but a bubble of excitement built inside me. We could be best friends again. I could rectify what had gone wrong.

-()-

-Harry-

Sneaking into the cellar below Honeydukes together with Annabelle was easy as walking. Me, concealed under my cloak and she, being discreet.

The tunnel leading to school was murky and the dim light from the torches barely illuminated our path.

"Huh, I never even knew this was here," Annabelle muttered to herself.

She was walking a couple of steps ahead of me with a stony face. When we met up, she glanced at me fearfully several times, as if I was going to blast her into oblivion there on the spot.

I don't think it was lost on her that I was taking her somewhere where no one would be able to find her, should she 'disappear'. What could she do about it?

Not much, unless she wanted to try my bluff. Because this whole debacle was just that, a bluff. I'd like to think that I wouldn't have done any harm, or worse, to Michael Corner if she broke her end.

Annabelle didn't say a single word throughout the entire passage. I could only imagine how her face looked in front of me. She walked awkwardly, as if her legs were shorter than she was used to.

We reached the end of the tunnel and she turned around. "What now?"

I smiled sweetly and handed her the cloak. She raised her eyebrows. "Not afraid I'll run off?"

"That is my cloak, Annabelle. Just because no one else can find me beneath it doesn't mean I can't find everyone else under it."

A lie, but she didn't know.

She scoffed and muttered something.

"Follow me," I said. "It's not too far."

We silently made our way to the second floor with the flooded bathroom. Once inside, I told her to take the cloak off. Annabelle appeared next to me with a sneer. "A bathroom? Really?"

I shrugged. "I didn't build the place."

I whispered at the sink and it opened as always, revealing the pipe leading far beneath the school. With a small smile, I gestured for her to jump in. "Ladies first."

She glared at me and peered inside. "Is it safe?"

"What will you do if it is not?" I asked rhetorically. "But yes, it is safe. Slytherin needed a safe way to get down too, you know."

Annabelle sighed and went down the pipe. To her credit, she neither screamed or shrieked. Perhaps she was used to jumping through pipes through her occupation.

I followed her with a sigh.

-()-

As we entered the grand chamber, with all its might, I gestured around. "What do you think?"

Annabelle was staring around in awe, her mouth slightly open. "It's…large," she said. "Much larger than I had imagined." Her eyes eventually landed on the huge skeleton on the other side of the chamber. She approached it wearily. "You killed this at twelve?" she asked, partly disbelieving, partly incredulous.

I nodded. "Yup, with the sword." I revealed the scar on my arm. "It gave me this in return."

"But how–"

"Phoenix tears."

Annabelle shook her head. "You're a lucky boy, Potter."

"I was a lucky boy," I corrected. "Nowadays, I leave as little to luck as possible."

Annabella nodded and took her notebook out, it hovered in front of her and the quill scratched away by itself.

"Is this the only room in the chamber?" Annabella turned away from the corpse.

"I haven't found anything else."

Annabelle smirked condescendingly. "Do you know where to look?" The old woman walked towards the wall with certain steps. "Slytherin loves hidden passages. Hidden, dangerous passages, to be precise," Annabelle lectured.

She took a small golden device out of her pocket and held it up, it cast a bright green light on the wall -nothing changed.

"Wow," I said dryly. "What a discovery."

Annabella ignored my comment and moved along the walls, the green light the same shade as the killing curse illuminating the walls. I folded my arms and waited with a little anticipation.

Despite all my lies surrounding this place, I had never properly explored it. Could it be that there was something down here?

What if I actually found some of Slytherin's old books? Then I technically wouldn't have lied.

"Aha!" Annabella exclaimed. And sure enough, in the middle of the green light, there was a red circle. Large enough for someone to walk through.

Annabella frowned and muttered spells at the wall. "Could you try parseltongue again?" she said, without looking at me.

"Open," I hissed.

Nothing happened. Annabelle nodded. "Okay, that makes sense, if one key could unlock three doors in a row, it wouldn't be that secure."

She turned towards me. "How good are you at destroying things?"

My lips curled into a small smile. "You want me to blow the door open?"

She shrugged. "Something like that, figuring out how to actually open it will take ages."

"Aren't you conserved with preserving the historical site or something?"

"It really doesn't matter to me, I'll never see this place again, correct?"

"Correct." I shrugged and pointed my wand. "I would advise you to step aside."

The woman rolled her eyes, but obliged.

Purple flames flew from my wand and dug into the grimy wall, the stone melted beneath the heat, dripping down on the floor like caramel. Soon enough, there was an opening revealed behind the smoke and the spitting liquid.

Annabelle was looking at me with a tilted head, like she was running calculations. "Impressive."

I ignored her and froze the liquid to get inside. The room was small, circular and the air thick with dust.

There was only one altar inside, and on it, rested two items. One was a sheet of parchment, the other a thick book. I could hear Annabelle shuffle inside behind me.

I picked up the parchment first, the seal was still intact, it seemed that Tom never found the place. This place was as old as my master's.

I broke the seal and unfolded the scripture.

Helga

I am sorry, but this had to happen. Godric was a fool. You know it too, both of us could see what was going to happen from miles away, yet we didn't do anything. I will be dead when you read this, so will Godric, Rowena and Helana too. I just want you to remember how things really were when we built this. Please, I know I'm no saint, but I don't want to be remembered as the man who split us. We both know it wasn't me, despite what Godric would have people believe.

Godric was a fool. And somehow, Rowena was even more oblivious. Or she led him on, which would make her foolish beyond belief.

When you read this, Helena will have killed Rowena. And in his anger, Godric will kill Helena. She didn't even try to resist, did she? I wouldn't be surprised if she just gave up and let him kill her. Foolish girl, despite being a copy of her mother, she never managed to match the original.

And no, I did not survive and write this letter after all events transpired, it's purely obvious that's what'll happen.

I hate that it ended this way, but it feels right somehow. You were always the level headed one, Helga, I hope you'll find a worthy successor to run the school before you leave this world, too.

Please, just please. Don't defile my name, I beg you.

Salazar.

I read the letter again and again and again. Did Godric Gryffindor have a crush on my master back in the day?

Just thinking that sentence made me pause.

Annabelle chuckled from behind me, she had read the letter too, over my shoulder.

"How fitting," she said and shook her head.

I raised my eyebrows. "What is?"

"Slytherin, he was ambitious and confident to the point of arrogance." She smiled darkly. "He thought he was clever enough to predict exactly how things played out, yet I know for a fact that Helena never killed Rowena, nor did Godric kill Helena."

I knew that too. Rowena had killed Helena.

"Yet there is one thing which this letter disproves." Annabelle frowned. "There is a popular theory among us historians that Godric and Rowena are Helena's parents."

I blinked rapidly. "That's not true," I said with certainty.

She looked at me oddly. "No, this letter implies that Godric chased Rowena, but never got her."

"And that Helena sought Godric, but never got him," I finished.

Annabelle looked at me with a frown for a few seconds. "What do you know about Rowena and Helena?"

I met her eyes. "Rowena is Helena's mother, the father is unknown."

Annabelle nodded. "Yes. You're right." She paused for a second. "Do you know how old Helena was when she died?"

"Uhhh, no."

"Well I do, because I've seen her grave, she was 41."

"What?" I asked incredulously. "But ghosts don't age, right? Helena's ghost looks like she died at 70 or something."

Annabelle nodded. "Exactly. It doesn't make sense. Helena existing doesn't make sense." She chuckled darkly. "Godric was the only person who could have been her father, no one else fit the bill. But if he's not, then who is?"

I frowned and thought. It felt like ages ago now. Me and my master sat in her room. We didn't know each other that well. What had she told me? She had met someone once. Then she had prioritised her work over him, and he had left.

Could that man be the father? My master made it seem like they knew each other, but the fourteen year old me sure didn't pick up any hints as to whether or not they had been intimate. My master didn't mention anything about her motherhood before I confronted her either.

Why?

Was she really so ashamed?

She had to be hiding something, I was sure of it. That was why she had gone behind my back to help Hermione. This just strengthened it, something about Helena was wrong. My master didn't want me to know anything about Helena and what happened with her. Was there something specific she didn't want me to find out?

Was Helena actually right? Had my master stolen something from her?

I needed to talk to my master –ask her who Helena's father was.

"Does the man who got into Rowena Ravenclaw's knickers even exist?" Annabelle asked rhetorically.

I cringed a little at the wording, but I agreed. Who on earth could it be? Was it the man who had left her, or someone else?

I picked up the other book and skimmed through it. It was empty, entirely empty.

Annabelle appeared beside me. "It's probably spelled somehow." She paused and looked at the letter. "Helga was the one who was supposed to find this, even if she never did. There is a strong possibility that only she can open it."

"So all is lost?"

"Not necessarily, but most likely, one of her descendants will have to open it."

I sighed. "Perhaps in the future, I can't bother now." I held my hand out. "I've held up my side…"

She sneered but reached inside her pocket. "I didn't have a choice, did I?"

"No, but you've earned plenty of notes. I hope you've put everything you want to remember down there."

I took the letter out of her hand.

Time for the second letter from a founder of the day.

Helena

You failed. I succeeded.

Despite everything I taught you, there was one crucial lesson you never learned: thinking rationally. Or well, you did, in every aspect but one. And you lost because of it.

I created you Helena, you may look like me but you sure as hell will never be my equal.

I succeeded, and you failed. You may have created my house in your image, but no one will ever know that was the case. I have replaced you with a book. That book may not be as complex as you or Hogwarts. But all my knowledge lives on, it will be a final help to those in need, if you must know.

You see, I can help people.

I won Helena. You lost.

I stared at the letter.

My master was sad about having to kill her daughter, in front of me. This letter made it seem like she relished in the fact that she had killed her daughter.

'You may have created my house in your image.'

What the hell did that mean?

The letter was undoubtedly written by her, from the purple ink to her obsession with thinking rationally.

'I have replaced you with a book.'

I swallowed uncomfortably. She had, in a way. Through that book, she had replaced her previous apprentice with a new one.

She had killed her daughter, her apprentice, and was flaunting it.

I remembered the woman who had broken down in her room, the woman who I had hugged tightly. Could that woman and this one really be the same?

I shiver ran down my spine. If I thought rationally, what was the best way to ensure my loyalty? I would do anything for my friends and loved ones.

The best way to ensure my loyalty would be to make me care for her, that would be to make me believe she cared for me.

That was thinking rationally.

Helena was right, she had to be.

My master's concern was all on act. An act to secure my undying loyalty.

And yet. . .

Everything she had done had helped me thus far. Could one really fake the emotion she showed to me?

Annabelle was looking at me with a small smile. "Something that upset you?" she said, mocking.

I folded the parchment and pocketed it. "That's irrelevant. What is relevant is us getting back to Hogsmeade."

-()-

The cellar in Honeydukes was thankfully empty. It was dimly lit, warm and smelled of sugar and cinnamon.

Annabelle continued towards the ladder, her steps light with hope.

"Hold up for a moment," I said.

Annabelle froze in her movement. "We're done. Our deal is done."

"There's something else that requires addressing, I believe," I said soothingly.

Annabelle turned around, her eyes burning with anger. "Oh, really? Something else you need from me?"

I nodded. "Yes. I want a copy of your notes."

She scoffed and took the journal out of her purse. "You think I hid something from you?"

"For your sake, I hope you didn't." I accepted the duplicated book. "But no, that was not the reason for this."

A bright spell burst from my wand and struck her in the abdomen. Annabelle froze on the spot, petrified. Her eyes darted around the room, wide with terror.

I walked up to her and plucked the journal out of her hands. "You're a smart woman, Annabelle. If you walked away from this, you would find a way to get to me. I can't allow that."

I erased all of her notes she had taken from the book, they faded into oblivion -where this entire debacle between her and me would remain. I could see her eyes shaking with anger.

"Don't worry," I said. "I'll hold up my end. You'll still get your notes. You just won't know that you were the one who wrote them."

I could see the moment her brain put it together, the eyes illuminated in realisation.

"Yes," I said with a smirk. "I won't kill you, Annabelle. I'll only kill the part of you that thinks I am a villain. That thinks I'm a killer." I stared into her eyes with amusement. "You'll like me, Annabelle. How does that feel?"

I hummed thoughtfully.

"In just a few minutes, you will thank me for helping you; you will feel inclined to help me again; you will think about me and remember a good and pleasant boy. How does that feel?"

The fire in her eyes had been smothered, she eyed me desperately, hopelessly.

"You've helped me enormously, Annabelle," I said honestly. "I thank you for that." I smiled. "I think the two of us will continue to work together and reveal many secrets."

I walked up so close that I could see every crease in her old skin and every detail of her hair.

"Obliviate."

I took a couple of steps back and focused on the story I had invented. I wouldn't just remove her old memories –I would replace them. Before she regained consciousness, I made sure to change the handwriting inside the book to look like that of my own.

Her gaze sharpened and I put on my mask.

"Mrs. Corner, are you alright?" I asked with a frown.

Annabelle scratched her head. "I…" Her eyes landed on me; and brightened. "Mr. Potter!" she exclaimed. "I'm sorry, I got a little lost in thought for a moment."

I smiled pleasantly. "Happens to all of us." I held the journal with her notes out to her. "Again, thank you for the letter. Here are all the observations I made in the chamber."

She smiled widely. "No, Mr. Potter. I thank you, this information could prove invaluable to my line of work." Annabelle took the journal and held it like it was made of glass. "If you ever need my help with something like this again, Mr. Potter, don't be afraid to ask."

I smiled shyly. "I won't, but in that case, please call me Harry."

The old woman's eyes sparkled. "Yes, Harry. You can call me Annabelle, of course."

"Goodbye Annabelle, I hope the two of us will continue to work together and reveal many secrets."

"I know we will, Harry." She turned around to leave. "Thank you, Harry. You're a good boy."

-()-

I felt heavy in my armchair. I glanced at my master in the other one. Her purple eyes were focused on the text in front of her, her forehead creased in concentration.

There was no reason for suspicion for my question, right?

I cleared my throat, making her gaze settle on me.

"Master, I was wondering…" I paused and she raised her eyebrows. "Helena is your daughter, right?"

Rowena seemed to weigh the question in her head. "Sure."

"Well, I was wondering. . . who was the father?"

Rowena observed me with no reaction for a few moments.

"Was it that guy you told me about?" I continued, a little nervously. "The one who left you."

Rowena licked her lips. "No, it was not." Her frown deepened. "Helena is…was my daughter, yes. But…" my master trailed off and sent me an uncertain look. "Look, there was never someone I wanted to have a child with."

I frowned. "So you got her unwillingly?"

Rowena sighed.

"Was it Gryffindor or Slytherin? Someone else?" I asked, a little hesitantly.

Rowena chuckled. "No. I met them after Helena was born. And even if that wasn't the case, Salazar had enough to do with his own child and Godric… Well, Godric was weird, he liked someone else, not me."

I tried to hide my surprise. Salazar had said that Godric had been infatuated with Rowena. Was my master oblivious to Godric's love or was Salazar outright wrong?

Salazar had been wrong about what would happen, perhaps he was wrong about this too?

"Was he weird because he didn't like you?" I asked with a smirk.

Rowena rolled her eyes. "I didn't say that, I'm just saying that neither of them were the father."

"So who was it then?"

Rowena shook her head. "That's a very long story. Perhaps I will tell you one day, but for now, I'll tell you only this; I am a married woman, Harry. I am married to knowledge."