Righting Past Wrongs
He peered over the grounds of the school from his vantage point within Dumbledore's office.
It bore the scars from the battle the previous evening.
Much of the grass was still stained red from the blood that had spilled upon it, and in places, chunks of earth had been torn away completely. Some of the trees themselves were bent at odd angles, and the smell of death lingered in the air.
Harry could only shake his head.
Rowena, Helga, Godric, and Salazar would turn in their graves if they knew what had happened here.
They had created Hogwarts to be a sanctuary away from the wars plaguing the outside world, and Riddle had besmirched that dream of theirs, and desecrated the safety the castle had always represented.
Harry had taken that in itself personally, but more so for the insult given to the Founders of the school.
He snorted humourlessly as he caught sight of the crowd gathered in front of the gates.
Amongst them were members of the media, who wouldn't print even a kernel of the truth when they inevitably learned of it.
Either the entire incident would be covered up, ignored, or spun in a way to make it seem that Dumbledore was at fault.
He was the easiest target, after all.
If any were to print anything defamatory about Harry, he would not take it lying down.
He was not a naïve, fourteen-year-old boy unable to defend himself from the likes of Skeeter anymore.
"I never thought I would live to see the day that Hogwarts would be intruded upon in such a violent manner."
"Nor I," Harry murmured as he turned to face Dumbledore.
The headmaster emerged from his private quarters, scarcely looking any better than he had the night before, but there was a little more colour to his pallor.
He took a seat behind his desk and observed Harry for a moment before offering him a smile.
"I must thank you, Harry," he said sincerely. "Minerva explained to me how it was you that led the defence of the castle, and how you so admirably filled in during my absence. You protected Hogwarts when I could not, and undoubtedly prevented Tom from taking the castle."
"Indeed, well done, young man!" one of the portraits called in support.
"It is no easy feat to impress any of these men and women, Harry," Albus continued. "It is because of you the castle remains out of his hands."
"I would've died before I let him take it."
Albus's smile widened proudly, though it did not quite reach his eyes.
"I do not doubt it, but there are matters we must discuss."
He gestured for Harry to take a seat and leaned back in his chair.
"It is as important as ever to find Horace," he declared. "It will not be easy, but it is necessary. He must share what he knows."
"What if he knows nothing?"
"Then he would not be hiding," Albus pointed out. "He may not like the limelight himself, but he does so enjoy a social life. He has hosted nor attended any events since Tom returned."
"What do you think he knows?"
"Perhaps something he believes to be merely trivial, but nonetheless, something of such importance that he dare not risk remaining available. He revealed that he had indeed been visited by associates of Tom's, wishing to recruit him."
"Or kill him."
"Those were my exact thoughts, Harry," Albus agreed. "If nothing else, Hogwarts will require a new potions professor. I have already begun making arrangements to have Severus buried close to his own home. It is what he would've wanted."
The headmaster's demeanour changed at the mention of Snape, and he released a deep breath.
"You truly believed in him, didn't you?"
"I did. Severus took his secrets to the grave, and I will keep them for him, but he was sincere in his wish to see the end of the Dark Lord."
"Even though he was a Death Eater. He was marked."
"A foolish mistake of a tormented, young man," Albus sighed. "I will not defend his actions, Harry, only his character when he learned the error of his ways in a manner that saw him realise what it was he had done. He was far from perfect, and he would not even mind that his work was the end of him, but he would've appreciated seeing Tom fall."
Harry frowned thoughtfully as he tried to piece together what little he knew, but he could reach no conclusion.
"Now, Horace will be somewhere in the muggle. I will begin searching for him again immediately. What he knows will be important, Harry, and we must have the truth from him."
"And you believe I can extract it from him?"
"Indeed. He was deeply fond of your mother, and it was her death that saw him retire from his teaching position. Lily Evans was an incredibly talented student, Harry, and Horace came to adore her, despite her blood status."
"You think I should use his affection for my mother against him."
Albus nodded.
"He may not seem it upon first glance, Harry, but Horace is an exceedingly gifted wizard. He will not fall foul to tricks of the mind, or even spells, but he has a weakness, and that weakness is his emotions."
Harry nodded his understanding.
"There has been a development we have not been able to discuss. We happened upon one of the Horcruxes."
Albus's eyes widened.
"Happened upon?"
"It was in Grimmauld Place being guarded by Kreacher on behalf of Regulus Black who took it. Riddle used Kreacher to hide it amongst a group of Inferi in a cave. He doesn't know where it is, but Regulus took it with the intention of destroying."
A frown creased Albus's brow as he deflated.
"I believe I know where the cave might be, Harry, but we can discuss that later. There will be no need to venture there if there is no Horcrux, but we might to rid it of the inferi."
"I can do that," Harry said dismissively. "It won't take so long, but the important thing is what the Horcrux is. It is the same locket that Merope Gaunt sold to Burke shortly before giving birth to Riddle."
"So, it was Tom that killed Hepzibah Smith."
"And took both the locket and Helga's cup, which he has undoubtedly turned into a Horcrux too."
Albus shook his head.
"And if we consider that he stole the Gaunt ring from Morfin Gaunt, he likely did the same with that."
"I expect so," Harry agreed. "So, with the diary, the necklace, the cup, the ring, and me, that makes five."
"Five," Albus said disappointedly, "and likely more, but we will need to confirm that."
"We will, but we at least have something to work with. All of the items he has used have some kind of significance to him, or to Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts?"
"The cup and the locket belonged to two of the Founders, and I would bet he would love nothing more than to have found others he could use."
"But what?"
Harry frowned at the question.
"They cared little for possessions. Helga's cup was her greatest achievement, but she coveted little else other than her greenhouses. Salazar liked the locket but had no sentimental connection to it other than it had belonged to his late wife. Godric cared mostly for his sword, but we know Tom never found that, unless the hat gave it to him."
"I can assure you, Harry Potter, I did no such thing. Only Godric himself wielded the sword before you."
"Do you know what happened to his wand?"
"It was buried with him," the hat answered.
"And Tom would be unable to find that spot," Harry mused aloud. "Only those involved in burying him would've been able to, and they certainly would not have stolen it. No, it is unlikely he found anything of Godric's, and Rowena…"
Harry broke off as thoughts of the woman came to the forefront of his mind.
"The one thing she truly coveted was stolen from her," he mused aloud, "and unless…"
He broke off once more as he stood.
"What is it, Harry?" Albus asked.
"I need to speak with the Grey Lady."
"The Grey Lady?"
"Helena Ravenclaw. She's Rowena's daughter."
(Break)
The caged werewolf continued to glare at her.
Greyback had been doing so all morning, but with merely a glance towards the collar around his neck, he winced in discomfort.
The rest of the pack had already been rounded up, those that could be found, at least.
Morgana suspected the others were now wandering the forest, lost without their leader, and uncertain what to do. They would either emerge in the open soon enough, or be hunted down by the centaurs, who were out for blood.
The herd had already gathered their fallen, and though the rest of the dead had now been cleared away, some of the injured still remained.
Fortunately, Riddle had seen no value in taking St Mungo's for himself, though Morgana suspected he would be regretting that decision now.
He no longer had Snape to provide him with Potions, and she doubted there were enough qualified Healers amongst his ranks to cope with the injured that had been expelled from the grounds by Dumbledore.
Not that it was her problem, though Harry had been left rather frustrated by the headmaster's intervention.
Nonetheless, she understood why the man had acted as he had.
Despite the battle going more in favour of the Aurors and Order, the tide could certainly have changed rather suddenly.
Only Harry's efforts in keeping the Dark Lord himself occupied had stemmed the flow of battle as many had stopped fighting to watch the spectacle.
It wasn't often any were able to see two such accomplished and powerful wizards square off against one another, after all.
"Now, what do we do with you?" a tired voice grumbled.
Amelia Bones looked exhausted, and the wound below her eye she'd sustained during the course of the fighting was still weeping blood.
"We have no Wizengamot to hold a trial, nor a prison to hold you in."
Greyback grinned, baring his yellow teeth threateningly.
"I could kill him," Morgana offered. "A trial only be a formality, and he is too dangerous to risk ever allowing to be free."
She had read of the deeds of the infamous werewolf, of how he would purposely target particular victims and place himself nearby at the time of the full moon.
He had used his growing fame to establish an enormous pack, and they had terrorised countries across the entire continent.
"Or we could hand him to the centaurs?" Morgana suggested when Amelia scowled at the first offer.
"No, I have a better idea," the redhead mused aloud. "Britain is not the only country he is wanted in, and I have several contacts who would be most keen to take him off our hands. The French would covet the honour, but I think their prison is just a little too kind for the likes of you, Greyback. No, I think the Romanians will know exactly what to do with you. Yes, I think I will get a message to the Ministry with the expectation they will arrive shortly."
Greyback levelled a glare at the woman.
"Well, at least you will live to see another day," Morgana sighed. "I was looking forward to maybe keeping you as a pet just a little longer. I did have some fun games we could play, well, fun for me, at least."
"Fuck you!" Greyback spat.
Morgana grinned at the man.
"Only my husband has that honour," she replied, "and if he was one of your kind, he would've taken your pack from you long ago. I would enjoy watching him tear your throat out, but it seems fate has other ideas for you. I expect you will suffer every indignity that can be imagined, and the remainder of your life will be miserable. Anyway, you were quite a good pup while it lasted, but it seems you are to be rehomed. Don't worry, I will ensure you are well taken care of."
She offered the man a smile before walking away.
There was still much work to do in the grounds, but fortunately, it was only the grounds that required attention.
Riddle had not managed to set foot in the castle. A small mercy, but a mercy, nonetheless.
(Break)
He could not ignore the Aurors muttering or furtive glances as he passed them by, nor the sense of unease, but as he spotted the pale Remus approaching from the gates, Sirius relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief.
"Vultures," the werewolf grumbled. "They're not here for truth, only to be nosy sods."
Sirius nodded his agreement, but froze as something was jabbed into his back.
"Alright, Black, keep your hands where I can see them!"
"Proudfoot, what the bloody hell are you doing?"
"Stay out of this, Tonks," Proudfoot warned. "Black is a wanted criminal, and I will be taking him in."
Sirius could only shake his head in response.
This was the thanks he was to receive for his assistance during the battle.
"You'll be doing no such thing. Remove your wand from his back, now!"
Morgana had arrived, and though Proudfoot hesitated for a moment, his resolve remained firm.
"You'll stay out of this!" he snapped back. "You're neither my boss nor the Minister of Magic!"
"No, which means I am not bound by the same rules they are. You will either remove your wand, or I will remove your hand," Morgana returned matter-of-factly. "For now, there is no Minister and no Ministry of Magic. Even when it is established, it will be proven that Sirius Black is innocent."
Proudfoot hesitated once more.
"Proudfoot, remove your wand, now!" another voice interjected.
"But Madam Bones…"
"Now, Proudfoot!"
The wand was reluctantly retracted and Proudfoot stomped away irritably.
"Thanks, Bones," Sirius huffed.
The woman quirked an eyebrow at him.
"I wouldn't thank me yet, Black. I can assure you, when the time comes, I will be using every means at my disposal before you are declared innocent."
"Then you will be forced to eat your words."
"Perhaps, but I will maintain my stance that drunken brawls, lewdness, and anti-social behaviour was kept so low solely because of your incarceration. I remember how much of a lout you were, and I am grateful for the years of peace not chasing you out of every hellhole in magical Britain."
"Well, when I am proven innocent, I will have many years to make-up for," Sirius replied with a grin.
Bones narrowed her eyes at him, and Sirius chuckled as she shook her head and walked away.
"She can and will make your life miserable if you follow through with that threat," Remus warned.
Sirius snorted.
"I have no intention of doing anything of the sort," he promised, "but Bones doesn't need to know that. No, it will be a quiet life for me after this war is done. Speaking of which, there is something you should see."
"There is?" Remus asked with a frown.
Sirius nodded and gestured for the man to follow him, and Remus paused as he took in the sight of the caged werewolf.
"Is that…?"
"It is," Sirius confirmed. "Morgana captured him."
The werewolf swallowed deeply as his gaze bore into Greyback's.
The other wolf leered at him, seemingly unfazed by the fate that awaited him.
"What's going to happen?" Remus snarled.
"Apparently the Romanians are taking him. They'll either kill him, or he will rot in a cage for the rest of his life. He won't get away with his crimes, Moony."
"Good," Remus muttered before turning away from his tormentor, "but I will hope for the former."
He made his way back towards the gates, evidently to digest the very end of what had been a long and daunting chapter of his life.
Of course, he would continue to live with the condition that plagued him, but Sirius believed he would do so more peacefully with the knowledge that Greyback was no longer able to inflict the same misery on others he had Remus.
(Break)
It would be quite the understatement to say that Albus was taken aback to learn that for all these years, the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw herself had been roaming the castle.
The headmaster liked to think he knew all of the ghosts within the school, and in truth, he'd given little thought to the young woman only referred to as the Grey Lady.
Upcoming succeeding Armando Dippet, he'd made a point of meeting with the ghosts, the elves, and even all of the portraits throughout the school to introduce himself, and to build a most excellent network.
He scarcely remembered the conversation he'd shared with the elusive spirit of Ravenclaw Tower, but she'd not been very talkative.
Since then, it was rare to even catch sight of her, and Albus had merely assumed she preferred her own company.
He could only shake his head as he followed Harry through the corridors, all the way to the Astronomy Tower, though when they arrived, there was no sign of her.
"Helena?" he called. "Helena Ravenclaw, I know you are here."
Albus's eyes widened as the young woman drifted through the floor, and she eyed Harry with a curious frown.
"That is a name I have not heard for many years," she murmured. "You know who I am."
"I do," Harry answered, "and I knew your mother."
Helena gasped, and her hand reached for her heart before she shook her head.
"No, you could not have. It has been…"
"More than one thousand years," Harry broke in gently. "Look me in the eyes, Helena, and I will show you."
It almost appeared as though the ghost had paled, but after only a moment of hesitation, she did meet Harry's gaze.
Albus looked on as dozens of emotion distorted her features, and eventually, Helena could only weep.
Her sobbing filled the air for several moments until Harry reached out and rested his hand on hers.
"Rowena's biggest regret wasn't that she left much of her work unfinished, or that she passed on as young as she was. Her biggest regret was that she had never been given the opportunity to be your mother the way she would've liked, and the way that you needed. She loved you, Helena, more than you could imagine."
"She loved you too," Helena whispered.
"She did," Harry agreed sadly, "and losing her was like losing my own parents. It hurts even now, but if you'd like, I can take you to where she is buried. She would love nothing more knowing that you were there."
Helena nodded.
"Please," she whispered. "Perhaps I can apologise…"
"You need not do that," Harry assured her. "You were killed before you were given the chance to reconnect, and it destroyed your mother, Helena. She forgave you for everything. She was just never given the chance to tell you that."
Albus thought the words would bring her comfort, but instead, she only sobbed harder.
"You told him where it is, didn't you?"
Helena looked horrified by the accusation, but she didn't deny it.
"He somehow figured out who I was," she whispered. "He said he read about me in one of Salazar's journals. He wrote of my return after my death, and. He realised who I was, but he didn't tell me until after I betrayed my mother once more."
"That is what he does," Harry sighed. "He finds your weakness, and he manipulates you. That is not something you can blame yourself for. Much wiser people have fallen for his charms."
"I should've known better!" Helena hissed.
"Perhaps," Harry agreed, "but you can right that wrong. Do you know if he found it?"
Helena's lower lip continued o tremble, and she nodded.
"He did, and he bragged to me of what he'd done to my mother's greatest treasure. He…"
She broke off and took a moment to compose herself.
"He even had the audacity to hide it in her room."
"Her secret room?"
Helena nodded and Harry released a deep breath.
"Thank you, Helena," he said sincerely. "I will take care of it for you. What of Strenger, does he torment you?"
He expression darkened, and Albus frowned confusedly.
"Sometimes," she murmured "but after more than a thousand years, there is little left he can say or do to me that he hasn't already. If killing me wasn't bad enough, I must endure his leering and torment. He hid until both Godric and Salazar were gone, but when they were, he found his spine again."
"Then I will deal with him," Harry promised. "He is not as untouchable as he believes, but for now, I must retrieve it. I will find you soon, Helena, and we will visit your mother together."
The ghost nodded and even managed a weak smile.
"Thank you, Harry Potter," she said gratefully. "I cannot tell you what peace you have brought me."
With that, she vanished through the floor, and Albus looked towards Harry questioningly.
"I know where it is," the younger man sighed tiredly. "I will retrieve it now."
"Will you need my assistance?"
Harry shook his head.
"No, I can manage it. I know you have more than enough to keep you occupied, but I will keep you informed."
Albus nodded.
"Who is Strenger?" he asked.
Harry's expression darkened.
"He is the man who murdered Helena, but you know him as the Bloody Baron."
"The Baron?"
Harry hummed disapprovingly.
"It seems he chose to haunt Helena rather than pass on, but I will remedy that soon enough. With your leave, I will see him expelled from the castle."
"You have it," Albus assured him.
Harry nodded.
"If you will excuse me, headmaster, I would sooner retrieve it now than have it left in the school any longer. We have both seen what can happen when one of those falls into the wrong hands."
He didn't wait for a response, and after a few moments of pondering all he'd just learned and witnessed for himself, Albus made his way back towards his office.
Soon enough, he would need to visit the grounds, but for now, he wished only to mourn the passing of an imperfect and yet still noble man who'd been murdered during his absence.
(Break)
Despite having been expelled from Hogwarts, the Dark Lord had initially felt rather satisfied with how the venture had gone, but as he reflected on his own losses, he knew he'd merely been on a high from the duel with Potter.
He'd seen for himself what the young man was capable of, and though he was undeniably quite excellent, Lord Voldemort remained as confident as ever that he would emerge victorious when they eventually met for a final time.
When that would be, however, he could not be certain.
Having taken stock of the aftermath of the fighting, he realised he had gained all but nothing but had suffered considerable loss.
Although the members of the inner circle had survived the encounter, there were injuries amongst them; some rather severe.
Rodolphus's legs had been unintentionally crushed by a giant, and Macnair had been bitten by a werewolf.
Whether or not either would survive their injuries remained to be seen, but the remaining giants that had not fallen were keen for revenge.
Even so, dozens of his followers had been killed, and the Dark Lord would now be without the werewolves with Greyback's capture.
How the woman had ensnared him in such a way was lost on him, but it didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.
Greyback may have been a talented individual in his own way, but the pack could only be relied upon one evening out of every month, unlike the Dementors, who would need to be employed more usefully in the future.
Yes, despite his losses, and failure to secure the castle, the Dark Lord still held the power in magical Britain.
The Ministry was now his in full, and soon enough, he would begin exploiting that influence whilst he pondered just how to defeat his enemies with finality.
He would.
The time would come when they could no longer hide and scurry like rats in a nest, and they would have no choice but to face him, though it would only be done on the Dark Lord's terms.
For now, he would shift his focus to running the country through Corban to establish the needed legislation to make life as difficult as he could for those who dared oppose him.
(Break)
"One more found," Morgana murmured as she looked upon the diadem.
Harry nodded.
"We still won't know how many more there are until we find Slughorn, and I don't expect Albus will be doing that until he has buried Snape and recovered from his ordeal."
"Where did you find it?" Morgana asked curiously.
"In the most insulting place he could've left it," Harry said darkly. "It took a while to figure out exactly where, but I found it in the end, and I know at least what one of the others will be."
"Helga's cup."
"The problem is figuring out where he might've hidden it."
"Well, he gave the diary to Malfoy," Morgana pointed out. "Do you think he may have given another to someone else?"
Harry chuckled humourlessly as he nodded.
"I can only think of one person he would've, but where she would've hidden it is anyone's guess."
"Bellatrix."
Harry nodded.
"She is completely devoted to him, and if there is anyone he would trust, even above Malfoy, it would be her, but she was locked away for a long time. She must've hidden somewhere no one would be able to get to it, unless she was so deluded in believing she would never be captured."
"That is possible."
Harry frowned as he shook his head.
"No, she would risk something if Riddle gave it to her. She would've hidden it somewhere unreachable by anyone else except for her."
They both fell silent as they pondered it and were eventually intruded upon by Sirius.
"The grounds have been put right," he informed them, "and a special evening edition of The Prophet was delivered not so long ago. He didn't waste any time," he finished gravely.
Harry could only shake his head as he read the headline and laughed as he read the accompanying article before sliding it towards Morgana.
"People won't really believe this, will they?"
"You'd be surprised," Sirius snorted. "There are many who won't believe a damned thing unless it is printed in there, even if the bloody journalists change their mind overnight. There may be more people here than what you're used to, but it just means there are more idiots willing to believe anything you tell them, especially if it comes from the Ministry."
"Well, I'm sure Minister Yaxley's posting will be long and decorated," Harry sighed before throwing the newspaper into the fire before focusing his attention on the diadem and drawing his sword.
There was no way of ridding it of the soul fragment and keeping it intact, and though he was furious at Riddle for his desecration of Rowena's greatest creation, he was wrother with its continued existence as it was now.
Rowena would feel the same, and with that in mind, he brought his blade crashing down on the diadem.
The scream that escaped it as it was destroyed was deafening, but with it cleaved in two, the magic was no longer harmless to any who might find it, and Riddle was less one of his Horcruxes.
The same had already been done with the locket, and Harry idly wondered if Riddle could feel the destruction of each one.
He thought not.
The man was so detached from any modicum of humanity that he wouldn't know of the destruction of his Horcruxes until he was on the brink of death.
Unless he discovered that they were missing.
Harry frowned at the thought.
If that was to be so, he needed to move quickly to avoid it, but such urgency could only be practical if he knew where the rest of the damned things were.
"Sirius, where would Bellatrix hide something she wanted to protect?"
His godfather frowned at the question.
"Well, nowhere belonging to our family," he mused aloud. "The home she grew up returned to my possession when her mother and father died. Maybe she would ask Narcissa, but it is unlikely. She may have married Lucius, but she did all she could to avoid anything to do with the Dark Lord."
"What about the Lestranges?"
Sirius chuckled amusedly.
"No, she despises her husband and only married him because she was obligated to under contract. I expect their wedding night was disappointing and rather painful for old Rodolphus if he tried to press his claim to her. No, she wouldn't trust her husband with anything of importance."
"Then where?" Harry grumbled to himself.
"Probably Gringotts," Sirius said with a shrug. "If there's something you want hidden, the goblins are your best bet. For a fee, they will turn a blind eye to most things, and they certainly won't cooperate with the Ministry. They did try to seize the contents of the vaults of those captured during the first war, but the goblins wouldn't have it, not whilst the owners were still alive."
"Bloody Gringotts," Harry groaned. "Well, until we can establish whether it is there or not, I'm not risking that."
"You'd break into Gringotts?" Sirius scoffed.
"If I have to. Riddle did and got away with it."
"You're bloody mad," Sirius declared. "Do you have any idea what trouble you'd cause?"
"I do," Harry acknowledged, his thoughts drifting briefly back home where the goblins there were preparing a rebellion.
"Well, if we need to know where it is, we will need to find Bellatrix," Morgana pointed out.
Harry shook his head.
"We don't even know if she has one yet."
No, but it is better to be certain that she doesn't before we dismiss her," Morgana returned. "Leave it with your loving wife, Harry. I will find her."
She left the room, and Sirius quirked an eyebrow at Harry.
"There's no point trying to talk her out of it," he chuckled. "When her mind is made up, there's no changing it."
(Break)
He moved an errant strand of hair from Severus's face and released a deep breath.
The man had known that his premature death was likely, and yet, he'd shown more courage than any would ever appreciate in continuing his work, despite the danger he was in.
Albus would make no excuses for the terrible things he'd done, but now as he looked upon the still form of Severus Snape, he believed the man had atoned for what he'd done so many years ago.
"Will you bury him?" Minerva asked.
Albus nodded and wiped a tear from his cheek.
"Severus made the arrangements long ago. He is to be buried where he grew up. The plot is already there."
"Then I will come with you," Minerva insisted. "We did not always agree, rarely, if truth be told, but I would not see you do this alone."
"Thank you, Minerva," Albus said gratefully, covering Severus's face with the white linen he'd been wrapped in.
In life, he'd suffered more than most, had exacted suffering upon others, but here and now, he'd paid the ultimate price.
For years he'd endured the burden of regret and heartache, and he had not died easily as he would've hoped.
No, Severus Snape had been far from perfect, and most would even say that he'd not been a good man, but as far as Albus was concerned, he'd paid his debts in misery every day since Lily Potter had been murdered, and now, he could rest peacefully, away from the burden of war.
(Break)
Helena said nothing as she stood vigil by her mother's grave, and Harry allowed her the privacy he had sought here many times.
Her demeanour reminded him of his own when he'd first come here after Rowena had been buried.
The weight of the world had been on his shoulders, and he'd felt solemn for some time before he was able to reflect on the life the woman had lived, and he'd realised Rowena would not wish for his to be drowned in his own anguish.
It wasn't so easy, but the mor time he's spent here, the more it had become a place of peace, somewhere for him to think, and almost hear her words of wisdom she often shared with Harry.
For Helena, it had been more than a thousand years that had mother had been gone, and yet, her grief would make any believe Rowena had only died the previous day.
"Thank you, Harry Potter," she whispered appreciatively. "I knew she was here. I watched them bury her from the tower, but I could never find the courage to come. When I did, I wasn't able to make it appear."
"Well, you will be able to now. I only ask that you do not do it for any other."
Helena nodded her understanding.
"She loved you," Harry murmured. "She loved you more than anything. Even now, I can say that without a shadow of a doubt. Your life may not have been what you hoped growing up, and I'm sorry for that. Rowena knew she should've done better by you, perhaps fought harder."
Helena shook her head.
"My father had turned me against her before I ever set foot in the castle. I see it now, and I even see Phillip's true intentions towards me. I suppose it is a curse of sorts, but I believed even Tom had only the purest of intent when he promised to retrieve the diadem. I should've known better by then, but I remain a naïve fool. Maybe even you are manipulating me, and yet, I believe in you, Harry Potter. Maybe I am forever to be the fool to all men."
"No," Harry denied. "There is no longer anything for you to give or to be taken from you. This was the very last thing."
He removed the broken diadem from within his pocket and placed it in front of Rowena's monument.
"You did it," Helena whispered, her gaze shifting towards him. "You…"
"Destroyed it," Harry broke in sadly. "It was the only way to rid it of what Tom had done, but your mother would sooner that than see her work insulted in such a way."
Helena nodded and offered him a warm smile.
"You truly knew her, didn't you?"
"I like to believe I did, but Rowena Ravenclaw is perhaps the most brilliant, curious, and complex woman to have ever lived. Even so, I loved her dearly, and as frustrating as she could be from time to time, she was incredible in every sense of the word, but still a bloody pain in the arse when she wanted to be."
Helena giggled.
"She was, and I never understood her, not even now," she said sadly.
"Nobody did," Harry comforted. "I still get headaches trying to figure out some of the things she said to me. I like to think of them as a parting gift. Maybe one day I will become wise enough to understand her words, unless me not being able to was her intention all along. I can never be sure when it comes to your mother."
"Maybe," Helena mused aloud before shifting her attention back to the grave by the edge of the lake.
Harry had granted the young woman her privacy and headed into the castle.
With Albus away only briefly, he wished to attend to a final matter before he would begin his tenure as the Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts in the coming days.
Helena had suffered enough, after all.
As expected, he found the individual he was seeking lurking in the dungeons, and though Harry had never paid the ghost much mind during his time here, he could see the Bloody Baron for who he was.
"Are you the new Potions Master?" the ghost asked with a frown.
"No, I will be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."
The Baron snorted and shook his head.
"So, just a year for you," he commented.
Harry shrugged.
"Perhaps, but even if I remained until the day I die of natural causes, it will be considerably less than you have been allowed to roam these halls, Strenger."
The Baron's expression fell almost fearfully before he grinned.
"You. know who I am."
"And all you did, including your part in the death of Helena Ravenclaw. The fact that you have the audacity to be here is an insult to those that built Hogwarts. I think you should leave."
"Is that so?" Strenger asked with a grin as he drifted towards Harry. "I'm afraid I'm quite keen on remaining. Besides, I am long dead. There is nothing you can do to me now."
Harry snorted humourlessly as he drew the Elder Wand.
"See, you would think so, and before this came into my possession, I would be inclined to agree. You see, Strenger, this is no ordinary wand, but I will not bore you with an explanation. Enjoy whatever is waiting for you on the other side. If there is any justice, it will be Godric and Slytherin to make eternity miserable."
Before Strenger could speak to the contrary, Harry levelled the wand towards the ghost, still not sure if his plan would work, though he could feel it would.
Somehow, it felt as though he was appeasing the wand with his actions, as though he was righting a terrible wrong that had been done.
"Come Death, come," he whispered, and looked on as Strenger's eyes widened as a pair of ethereal hands emerged from the tip of the Elder Wand.
The ghost struggled and scrambled to avoid their grasp, but to no avail, and Phillip Strenger screamed in protest as his very essence was pulled into the wand Harry held.
The corridor became eerily silent, and yet, the coldness Harry had become familiar with over the years lingered.
Death had answered his call and would do so more and more.
Riddle would once again bide his time, but Harry was not willing to allow him a moment of peace.
No, thus far, the war had been fought on the Dark Lord's terms, but now, it would be on Harry's.
He narrowed his eyes as he twirled the wand between his fingers.
Tom Marvolo Riddle would now experience what it was like to find his allies no longer safe, no matter where they were.
Harry would find them, he'd take them from the Dark Lord one by one, and then he would destroy Riddle in every conceivable way before handing him to Death, where his suffering would only continue.