The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition

Helena's Revenge

Team: Falmouth Falcons

Position: Keeper - Emily's Bridge Stowe Vermont - Write about the end of a romance changing someone for the worse.

Word Count:1,715

Warnings: Major Canon character death, and a slight bit of gaslighting on ghost Helena's part.

I hope you all enjoy Helena's Revenge.

I watch the Baron of Slytherin House as he sits in his bed chamber, still wearing the bloody clothes in which he had killed me. We had been betrothed since I turned ten, but the marriage would never bear fruit now. The marriage never would be at all. I suppose that is a plus, as I had only agreed to the match to please my mother. Rowena Ravenclaw.

"Are you alright, dear?" a gentle voice asks from the doorway.

I turn my head and see a young woman standing there in a night shift. I blinked in confusion and horror. Had the Baron been plotting my death the moment that I had run away? I was both horrified and surprised at the alarming speed at which the Baron had moved on. He hadn't even changed out of the bloody rags, and, yet, here he was with another woman. I could feel the anger boil in what should have been my blood. What did you call ghostly blood anyway?

"Yes," the Baron answered, getting up from the bed and walking over to the pretty young fool in the doorway. "You know it's rather difficult for me around the anniversary of—"

"Helena?" the young girl asks, making me jump in surprise. It was almost as though she could see me.

I knew that this was an impossibility. I had learned from a kindly spirit woman the arts of turning visible and invisible on a whim. My mother had always told me that I could learn almost anything when I put my mind to it, and learning this would make my revenge sweet and easy.

"How long has it been since—you know—"

"Since she died?"

The girl nodded.

"Ten years to the day," he replied reflexively, as he wrapped his arms around her.

I blinked again but the blood wouldn't go away. My innocent blood which he had spilled still stained the shirt he wore. I watched as they walked towards the bed with a nasty realization that if I didn't act, the Baron could possibly kill this young girl, too.

But how to drive her away from him? I wracked my mind hard and could only think of leaving little warnings for her. I picked up the first sharp thing I could find and started carving my message into the wall.

I smiled to myself as I watched them sleep. I couldn't wait to see the looks on their faces when they saw my message. In fact, I wished that I could wake them and see their reactions right now. But that would ruin the surprise when the Baron figured out that it was me. I was the one warning his next victim away from him.

I don't remember drifting out of the couple's room, but I must have at some time during the night because I was currently in the hallway when I heard the scream. I can feel myself being drawn to the scream. The panic and fear in it fueled something primal in my non-beating heart.

"Do you see that?" the girl shrieked, sending a maddeningly intoxicating thrill of pleasure through me. "Do you see what is carved into the wall?"

Murderer.

The word thundered from the wall and its power over the people who saw it was obvious. But why were they just sitting there and looking at the word? Why wasn't the girl running for her life? Why wasn't she taking this warning seriously? Didn't she know I was trying to save her life? I for one wish that someone had done this for me. But it was too late for that. It was too late to save me. I now had a purpose in my afterlife, to save others from him. From Baron Vladimir Slytherin and his penchant for murdering those he felt like murdering.

"It is but a word," he said simply, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, as though discussing what daily chore he would start on after breaking his fast.

"But the connotations of that word—"

"They mean nothing to us. I won't hear any more about the word carved into the wall."

I could tell that his voice was filled with a bravado he didn't truly feel. He was putting on a brave face for her. Perhaps, when he went to Helga's son, for absolution of his soul, he would allow his true feelings to be known.

I thought that I would relish seeing him squirm as he confessed to Friar Hufflepuff his sins and asked for forgiveness. But I was not to be given true satisfaction there, either.

I watched as the Baron and the friar made their way to the private Slytherin family chapel. The place that would have been where my marriage to the Baron would have been performed. The place where I would have been made his wife. The place where the Baron insisted that I be buried.

"Your serving boy seemed pretty frightened when he called me here, Vladimir," Peter Hufflepuff said, trying to sound nonchalant, but failing miserably. I could always see what was behind Hufflepuff's friendly demeanor to what he truly wanted. We had been friends for a long time before Catherine Gryffindor, and Vladimir had joined our friend group. "Are you having the nightmares again?"

The nightmares? What nightmares? I hadn't been aware of any nightmares since I had started haunting him. But, then again, I could still see him dressed in the blood-stained clothes that he had murdered me in.

The Baron nodded. "I try and stay silent and still, so as not to wake Beatrice," he said, shaking his head and slowly sinking into one of the pews in the chapel. "But sometimes it's harder to do than anything I've known. Especially when it comes to nightmares about Helena."

Nightmares about me?

"Is your conscience guilty over something to do with Helena's death?" the friar asked, looking for a genuine answer from our friend.

"Of course not, my friend," the Baron answered. "The only reason I would have any guilt is if I was the one who caused what happened to Helena actually to occur. I certainly was not. As much as Rowena and your mother think it was me who was responsible."

"I've taken confession from numerous people, Vladimir. Only the guilty ones who aren't willing to face what they have done have had such dreams as you do."

"I loved her!" he bellowed, standing quickly from his seat. "I loved her and she chose to disrespect that. I have no guilt in what happened to Helena. None." He turned his back on the friar and I could tell he would hear no more words on the subject. "I asked you here for absolution of my sins and all you've given me is accusations. I will hear no more of this. If you will not absolve me, then you may leave."

Beatrice was Peter's sister and one of my best friends since we'd been little girls. I couldn't allow the Baron to kill her as he had done to me. I wouldn't allow the Baron to kill her as he had done to me.

It was then that I thought up a most brilliant plan. One that would take Beatrice out of harm's way and avenge my murder. But it would take a while. I wanted to wait to pull off my plan until Beatrice was safely out of the picture. I would never hurt her, but him, I could and would harm. I would enjoy it.

It didn't take long for my plan to come to fruition. A week and a half later, Beatrice went to visit her mother and father for a week. She would never see the murderous bastard of a husband of hers ever again.

I waited until Vladimir was sitting down to his lonely supper for one, to put my plan into action. Sliding out of the chair that Beatrice usually occupied, and sitting down while turning visible I smiled at him.

"H—Helena?"

"You look surprised to see me, Vladimir," I said, cocking my head to the side and watching as he palmed his knife. "Did you never anticipate that something like this would happen?"

He stammered as he rose from his seat. The chair skittered across the floor and bounced off a wall, shattering from how fast he'd risen.

I looked at the sharp steak knife in his palm and smiled a sardonic smile. I approached him slowly and moved in for a forgiving hug. I knew he'd do what he was preparing to do all along. He'd try and stab me. The fool.

And sure enough, I felt the blade go through my ghostly form, not causing any harm at all, because how could one harm what was already dead? But I could hear the gasp of pain as the knife hit Vladimir's chest.

"Did you really think that stabbing me would work?" I asked, watching as a terrible dawning came over him. "You can't kill what's already dead, my dear, Vladimir."

"Helena," he whispered, choking on his own blood.

I looked upon him sadly as I sat and waited for his approaching death. He had done the same for me and then he'd know for sure who was responsible for his doom. He'd know it was the scorned ghost of Helena Ravenclaw who had led to his demise.

"You only have yourself to blame for this," I told his dying form as he appeared next to me in the same clothes that he'd worn the day that he'd murdered me. "You know that right?" I asked, turning towards the ghost next to me.

"The same could be said of you," Vladimir replied, watching as the servants came in to clear the table and found the scene of his death.

In later years it would be told that the Baron had taken his own life in sadness over the loss of Helena Ravenclaw. His one true love. Rumor also had it that both he and Helena had returned to the only place they were ever truly happy. Hogwarts. The school that their parents had helped to found. The one place they were ever truly able to be themselves. But that is a story for another time.

I hope you all enjoyed Helena's Revenge. I would like to take this time to thank everyone who beta-read this story for me. It truly means a lot that you would take the time to help me out like this. So, thank you all very much!