Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K Rowling.

Chapter 55: Committing

-Daphne-

I lay awake staring at the ceiling blankly. Tracey's, Pansy's and Millicent's regular, rhythmic breathing soared around the room.

Once again, I was failing.

Or was I?

I swallowed and thought back to all of mine and Potter's 'encounters'. They had been rather pleasant since we started school. That was good, right?

My stomach churned at the thought.

Making Potter like me was hard. He was pleasant enough, but I never, not once, got the impression that he hung out with me because he simply wanted to. How could he possibly want to spend his time with me?

I was cold and emotionless and brought no fun. I knew that just as well as I knew that Ravenclaw's favourite colour was blue.

I sighed. Could I make him like me? I tensed and relaxed with a deep breath.

To do that, I would have to show him, or make him think, that I liked him, not the other way around. I scoffed in the silence.

I imagined myself laughing at Potter's jokes like all the other feebleminded girls. I imagined myself walking with Potter, hand in hand, a smile plastered on my face. I imagined myself kissing him in some secluded corner in the library.

Could I ever do all of that?

I gulped. I had to, there was no choice.

A fleeting smile came upon my face at the thoughts; I couldn't even imagine how Potter would react to my advances.

That was actually a good question; Potter would be beyond surprised, disbelieving, even.

As far as I could tell, Potter wasn't suspicious of me at all. If I suddenly started to throw myself at him like some whore, he would be suspicious.

I had to ease him into it, go slowly. Yet I still had to give him some hint that I liked him. The preferable scenario would be to get him to openly ask me out. But how would I get from where I was to there?

The dance. That was the answer. The fucking dance Tracey had told me to go to Potter with. I could charm him, somehow, right?

I got up from my bed and went inside the bathroom. My hair was a mess, but I paid it little attention.

"I can charm him," I whispered to myself. I swallowed. "I have to charm him."

So I would have to go to Slughorn's dance with him; it was decided. Potter would accept, I knew he would, on the pretext that we had to 'get to know each other'.

But if I went to the dance with him, everyone would look at me. No matter where I went in the castle, no matter what the time was, no matter what I was doing, everyone would be staring and whispering and pointing and laughing and judging and…

I would crumble like a leaf in autumn.

Yet I had no choice.

I would crumble like a leaf, that I knew. I would just have to hope that, somehow, I would be able to sprout again in spring.

-()-

-Harry-

I couldn't piece it together. The past few days, I had been thinking about nothing but my master and Helena and Salazar and Godric and… everything.

What could my master want to hide from me? There could be plenty of things, definitely, but it didn't seem like the fact that she had killed her daughter was something she desperately wanted to hide. Was I to assume that she had done something worse than killing her own daughter?

Could whatever she stole be that valuable?

And why would Slyhterin make all of those assumptions in his letter? Helena killing Rowena, then Godric killing Helena; why would he think that?

And more importantly, why didn't it go the way he thought?

There were too many questions, and every answer I got raised a dozen new ones.

I couldn't speak to my master, she was bound to grow suspicious, if she wasn't already. There was only one option: Helena.

That was what I had tried to do, I had been trying to find her, but with no success. Her name didn't appear on the marauder's map, which forced me to look for her. I checked the rooms we had met in before, yet she was nowhere to be seen. I got the impression she was hiding somewhere, not even Luna knew where she could be.

After a while, I realised that there was no way forward, this mystery would stay just that, a mystery.

For now. Something was bound to come up, it had to. Helena wouldn't stay in the shadows forever. If Helena wanted to do something, she had to do it through someone, and finding someone meant moving around in the castle. When she did, I would find her.

-()-

-Draco-

Lucius Malfoy was standing tall; his robes were tailored to absolute perfection, his blonde hair ran smoothly down his head. There was a huge smile on his face, revealing his white teeth. His eyes shone with warmth. Next to him stood Narcissa Malfoy, his wife. She was, too, wearing robes worth more than most people's yearly income. She too, smiled, not as broadly, but for one who knew her, she was in paradise. Between them, or well, in front of them, was a short boy. He was blonde, like his father. He was pale, like his mother. He smiled shyly at the camera too, clutching the hem of his mother's robe nervously. Every now and then, Lucius would ruffle the hair of the small boy, making the child blush and quickly try to rectify the damage.

I stared at the photograph. The edges of the picture were dulled and worn. I could still remember the day I got it, it was the day before I went to Hogwarts for the first time.

An exhale escaped my lips, my head hung low. Reality once reflected that picture, I doubted it did so anymore.

My father was a drunk; my mother was a hostage.

And what was I?

I didn't know.

Evil, I supposed. More importantly though, I was by myself. Alone. There was no father to ruffle my hair and support me. There was no mother for me to run away to and cry.

I was by myself, truly.

There was only me and the mission. The mission which couldn't fail.

It was only a matter of time, it had to fail. Potter had found the cabinet, yet he had done nothing. It was safe to assume Dumbledore knew about it too.

So why hadn't they done anything?

I pushed the picture back in my trunk and locked it as securely as I could.

Not secure enough.

Blaise was entangled with his girlfriend in the common room, Gregory and Vincent were staring blankly at an opened book. Pansy was smiling with satisfaction as two seventh years were showering her with attention.

Her eyes glanced at me for a moment, darkened, and settled on the two boys again. Adrian Pucey and Sylvester Clover. Ordinary boys. Brutes, to be honest.

As was commonly the case, Daphne was nowhere to be found.

I tried to keep my head held high and exited the room. I slumped like hit by a stunning charm when I exited.

The walk from the dungeons to the seventh floor left me panting for air.

Every other second, I would send a glance over my shoulder, carefully making sure I wasn't being followed by anyone.

Barnabas the Barmy waved at me absently in the painting, I almost returned the gesture.

I shook my head of the thoughts and turned around, the door was there, still closed.

A shout echoed from down the hall, I twitched awake at the sound of it. My ears were perched and searched for anything else.

The shout had come from a child, a younger child. I frowned, what was one from the younger years doing out at this hour?

I spared a glance at the door, I looked towards the end of the corridor the shout had come from.

It could wait.

I stalked through the corridor and turned around the corner. There was a door slightly ajar, light was shining from within. I took my wand out and went inside the room.

Two children were standing inside, one on each side of the room. Neither of them appeared to have heard me.

One of them, a boy, was a Ravenclaw. The other, a girl, wore the robes of Gryffindor.

The girl had tears streaming down her face, her wand trembled in her hand where it lay pointed at the Ravenclaw.

The boy was glaring at the girl darkly, his other hand was clenched into a tight fist.

"Diff-"

"Expelliarmus!" I said quickly.

The boy's wand flew into my hand. Both pairs of eyes settled on me.

The boy's eyes widened in horror.

"I…I…" he stammered.

I tossed his wand out of the classroom and gestured for him to follow it. "Leave," I said harshly. "You will hear from your head of house soon."

The boy dragged his feet out of the classroom, his eyes glued to me like I was a magnet. As soon as he exited, the steps increased in speed and echoed further and further away.

I turned back to the girl, she pressed herself against the wall.

I took a tentative step towards her; the girl whimpered and started sobbing.

My feet froze like a deer caught in headlights.

Tears were streaming down the girl's face. Her wand had left her hand and was lying on the ground.

I stared at her helplessly.

I dropped my head and turned around; she didn't want my help. She seemed to think I was what she needed saving from.

That wasn't true.

When I was back in the corridor, I collapsed against the wall. I stared into thin air, I could feel the dusty creeping inside my expensive robes, yet I didn't care about it.

Was that how people felt when they saw me?

Fear. Unadulterated fear. Fear as palpable as the floor below me.

The girl pressing herself against the wall in an attempt to get as far away from me as possible was glued to my frontal lobe. It was as if she was in front of me.

I had tried. I had failed. Everyone hated me.

Was this the price I had to pay for it?

I wanted to be the 'Protego', not the 'Stupefy'.

I helped people; it was time that I started to prove it.

Heavy with purpose, I stood up again, stretching my back like a giraffe.

The girl was leaning against the same wall, sitting on the ground –not too differently from how I had just done.

Her eyes found me and her fires of fear flared up like spitting torches.

I swallowed and took a relaxing breath.

I held my hands up. "I'm not armed," I said. "I'm not here to hurt you."

The girl's mouth was slightly open, her breathing increasing.

I took my wand out of my pocket, making her whimper with fear. I threw my wand to the other end of the classroom, it clanked and echoed against the stone floor.

"See, I don't want you any harm."

I sat down in front of her and… waited. The girl sobbed like… well, a little girl.

After a while, could have been a minute, could have been ten. Her sobs receded until she was only hiccuping occasionally.

I cleared my throat, making her wet eyes settle on me with trepidation. "What happened? Why were you fighting each other?"

The girl closed her eyes. "I don't know," she said hoarsely. She hiccuped again. "I really don't know."

"Why were you here, then?" I queried. "Did you just stumble upon each other?"

The girl shook her head violently. "No. Steve was going to show me some transfiguration notes… he convinced one of his housemates to lend them to him."

I frowned. "Wait, you and the boy are –were– friends?"

She nodded mutely, sniffling.

I shook my head, praying that I would never have to fight my best friend. "What happened?" I asked, trying, and succeeding to sound sympathetic.

"I don't know." The girl wrapped her arms around herself protectively. "He came back and was just… mad." A single tear ran down her cheek. "Steve is– is my only friend. I thought he liked me. But no, he was so angry at me and I don't– I don't know why."

Her large, wet eyes stared up at me. "Why was he angry at me? He's my best friend."

She looked innocent as a puppy on the spot; I didn't know what to tell her. "Can you think of any reason he was mad?"

Internally, I questioned this madness. I should just report this Steve and let Flitwick, or whoever, handle it.

The girl shook her head. "No, he was happy at dinner. He picked up the notes and returned to me afterwards. We were only apart for like twenty minutes."

"Huh. Could something have happened in the meantime?" I asked.

The girl sniffled. "We could ask his housemate, I guess." The girl pushed herself to her feet, she didn't tower over me by much. "He was supposed to borrow notes from Michael Corner, perhaps he knows if something happened."

My stomach fell like a stone from Mount Everest. "Corner, huh?" I said darkly.

"He's nice," the girl said. "I'm sure he'll help us."

I restrained myself from grimacing. "He's…" I sighed. "Ask him, perhaps he'll know," I said and stood up.

The girl nodded. "I will." She began leaving, but stopped in the doorframe. She looked at me hesitantly.

"Is there something else?" I asked, smiling at her.

The girl smiled shyly. "You're supposed to be evil," she said.

I tried to not let my smile falter. "Oh?"

"Yes. Everyone talks about it…" she trailed off. "But you aren't evil!" she exclaimed suddenly.

I snorted. "Perhaps I am evil to some and nice to others? That would make you evil."

The girl frowned. "Would it? I kicked Cassey down the stairs a few weeks ago, because she's a bitch. Does that make me evil?"

I stared at the innocent-looking girl. Her eyes shone like a pair of moons. "You did what?" I said.

The small girl blushed. "Oh, I guess I'm not supposed to tell you that."

I rolled my eyes. "You're a Gryffindor," I said decidedly. "It's in your nature to do what you're not supposed to do."

The girl folded her arms. "Am I evil?" she pressed. The girl came across as totally unconcerned.

I shrugged. "How do I know? If you ask Cassey, yes."

The girl frowned. "But Cassey doesn't matter, she's a bitch."

"What if the world is made up of bitches? Does no one's opinion matter then?"

The girl frowned. "No. Only the important bitches."

I chuckled. "Of course, only the important bitches matter."

The girl nodded. "Obviously," she drawled. She arched her brow. "You're not a bitch."

I opened my mouth and closed it. "Thank you… I think."

"You're welcome, but you didn't answer my question; why aren't you evil?"

I smiled thinly. "Well, you see, bitches like me and people who aren't bitches don't."

"Oh," she said softly.

"Yeah… It's not great."

The girl frowned. "But I'm not a bitch…" the girl said. "So you're wrong."

I rolled my eyes. "Fair enough, one non-bitch like me."

The girl shrugged. "But you can make more non-bitches like you, just show them you aren't evil. It's easy."

I hummed. "That's where you're wrong. It's not easy, it's everything but easy."

"What you did now was easy, wasn't it?"

The girl disappeared like an apparition. I stared at where she had left.

Her words stayed behind like a ghost, whispering what I wanted to believe, but couldn't.

I remembered that day, those weeks ago, when I had planned a meeting. No one arrived, and I gave up.

It is easy.

No, she was wrong, but if fucking Granger could do it. I would damn sure do it too.

-()-

Last day before winter break.

Charms class was imminent. Only me, Daphne and Blaise stood tiredly outside the classroom -from Slytherin house, that is.

I noticed Daphne was a little distracted, she seemed to be zoning out every now and then. I didn't fail to notice that she kept sending glances at a boy among the Gryffindors.

The glances weren't filled with longing or desire or happiness or fondness either. If anything, I got the sense that Daphne was nervous.

I heard a loud gasp behind me and turned around.

Corner was kneeling in the corridor. Granger stood in front of him and was smiling widely.

"Hermione, you are my sunshine, my everything, my queen. Do you want to go to the dance with me?"

I snorted. Blaise was bent down laughing, Daphne had her lips curled in a cruel smile. Even Potter tried, and failed, to hide a smile.

"Yes, Michael!" Granger exclaimed. "I'd love to." She helped him to his feet and they stood in front of each other awkwardly for a moment, before Hermione stood on her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek.

Blaise and I exchanged a disgusted look; this public, really?

The lovesick couple held each other's gaze for a couple of seconds. Then Corner spun around and settled his eyes on me.

His lips curled into a smug smirk and he swaggered towards me, in what I assumed was supposed to me a menacing manner. A couple of his mates from Ravenclaw formed up behind him. Even a couple of Hufflepuffs and a Gryffindor joined him.

The group of at least ten people cornered us against the wall.

Corner smiled widely. "That's how you do it, Malfoy," he spat. "That's how you get a girlfriend."

He took a step forward, intruding on my personal space. "If your target can be called such," he whispered, loud enough only for me to hear.

I clenched my fist and glared at him. My hand twitched for my wand, yet I knew that I couldn't win.

Instead, I raised my chin condescendingly. "You're right, I'm absolutely heartbroken that my sunshine doesn't grace me," I said dryly. I tried to not think about the fact that 'my sunshine' was standing right next to me.

Corner laughed. "You're lucky she doesn't!" he said with a laugh. "The bitch is uglier than a fucking acromantula."

"And I can arrange for you to spend a night in an acromantula lair," Daphne said coolly. "I'm sure you'd find someone a bit more compatible with you in there."

Corner sneered at Daphne. "You can speak," he remarked, clutching his heart in fake shock. "I didn't know you could."

"And I didn't know Granger was retarded enough to say yes to you," I said harshly. "It seems both of us have been proven wrong."

Corner clenched his fists and dived for me. I tried to get out of the way but-

A shield appeared in front of me, Corner practically bounced off the protection and collided with his mates.

Every eye turned on the caster of the spell.

Rather unsurprisingly, it was Potter.

He didn't look bothered, or surprised at all. The crowd parted like tall grass around him. He stood over Corner silently, looking at him, into his eyes.

A small frown settled on Potter's features. He glanced at Granger quickly, then back again.

"Don't try to start a fight again, Corner," he said firmly. He looked around at the others. "Your queen would be most distraught, I think."

-()-

-Hermione-

"Do you want to know a secret?"

I looked up at the ghost hovering above me; Helena was smiling.

At first, I was terrified of the ghost. Now, I had realised that she always looked evil, even if she wasn't.

"Sure," I said. "Has it got anything to do with the 'feriollo' spell?"

Helena shook her head. "No, it is something far greater. You will be one of very, very few to know this." She laughed coldly. "You will know the truth."

Helena hovered over to the door. "Follow me, but do it at least twenty steps behind."

I nodded. "Yes master."

"Good. There are eyes everywhere, we don't want to draw suspicion."

"Who are we avoiding? Dumbledore?"

The ghost zoomed away, I scurried after, but subtly.

I followed her through corridors and up stairs and then down stairs. Only the flickering torches kept me company, very few were roaming the school.

After what felt like kilometres, we arrived in a room dark as night.

"Just down the corridor, there is a door. It will be locked. Blow it open, okay?"

I blinked. "What? Why? Wouldn't it be locked for a reason?"

"It is, but I'm telling you: it is safe, for you and everyone else."

I stared into the ghost's eyes, despite her cold exterior, I thought her colourless eyes held some warmth in them. I trusted her.

"I understand, master."

Helena's lips curled. "Good. Now go on."

So I did what she told me: blew the door of its hinges like it was made of cardboard.

"Well done, Helena observed. Remember to close it after you."

I had entered a long and dusty corridor, there couldn't have been anyone down here in ages. The torches along the walls had been snuffed out long ago.

"A student found this place some time ago," Helena said as we walked in the darkness. "Dumbledore decided to close it down, he thought it might hide a danger to the school."

"But it doesn't?"

Helena chuckled. "Not anymore, no. It had information, information that was, and is, dangerous." The ghost shook her head. "Ironically enough, that information wasn't even needed to unleash the danger."

I frowned at the vagueness. I knew better than to ask.

"Light, please," Helena ordered. We had reached the end of the tunnel.

The 'lumos' of my wand cast the end in brightness. It revealed two things, one was a small box. The other was a painting, a muggle painting. Both the women were unmoving in the portrait.

They had exactly the same grim expression. They had exactly the same blonde colour of hair. They had exactly the same jaw and nose and mouth and disposition. I frowned and looked at them.

There was one thing keeping them apart. The woman on the left had eyes blue as the sea, her robes the same colour.

The one to the right had irises of deep purple, her robes also matching her eye colour.

They were old, seemingly exactly the same age. "Who are they?"

Helena sneered at the picture. "That's me and my mother."

I looked at the woman with blue eyes and blue robes. Her beautiful face. "I can see why she chose blue for her house's colour," I said, awestruck.

Helena chuckled. "My mother is the purple one, I am the blue one."

I frowned and looked at Rowena Ravenclaw. She was purple, not blue. Curious.

The colour of the torches who had shown me the room of requirement had been purple. Helena wanted me to kill someone who had stolen something from her. Could that person be her mother?

"Rowena Ravenclaw wasn't a founder of Hogwarts," Helena said bitterly. "I was." The ghost clenched her fists and glared daggers at the purple lady. "I helped create Hogwarts. But then, my mother killed me and took all the credit." Helena sneered at her mother. "The thing is, my mother couldn't erase all traces of me from Hogwarts." She gestured to the painting. "My colour remained as the house colour. Not purple, but blue."

My mouth hung open. Could the greatest, the singularly grandest story of wizarding Britain be a lie?

"This school is mine, not my mother's." Helena smiled at me. "Do you see why I want revenge? She took everything, and everyone, from me. I want to do the same to her."

I stared inside the purple eyes. I had once believed that Rowena Ravenclaw was great. She wasn't. She was a fraud.

Every single history book in the world was wrong.

A/N: Howdy! The next chapter will be one which has been a long time coming. I hope you enjoyed this entry, and would be delighted if you left a review! Until the next update, cheers!