Chapter 1 : Purgatory
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 6|
Background: Font color:
“We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.”
Her home was her prison. From the day she was born she was imprisoned. Never allowed to leave the stonewalls that she was conceived in. Her mother raised her within the walls of Hogwarts, teaching her magic tricks that her mother had taught her.
Yes, from the moment Helena Ravenclaw was born she was concealed among rumors and lies.
“I simply do not understand my Mother’s love for this castle.” Helena sighed to her friend Adele one fine spring day as they sat among the reeds. “It is drab.”
Adele gave a small, lady like laugh as she pricked the reeds. “The only reason you see this beautiful Castle as ‘drab’ is primarily because you have never left. Look around you Helena, this Castle is divine, you just need a fresh pair of eyes to see it.” Adele was always the optimist.
A Page came running from the Castle, his breaths sharp and slow. “Miss Ravenclaw your mother craves a word with you,”
“Thank you. Please inform my Mother I shall be up in a moment,” the Page nodded and scampered away towards the always scintillating Castle. Helena took a glance at her Prison and tried to see the beauty that Adele saw. But whenever she looked at her penitentiary she felt only emptiness.
As Helena ascended the moving staircase she allowed her fingers to drag along the railings. She felt every dint and fissure that the staircase beheld and smiled at its imperfections. No matter how many times that her mother tried to convince her otherwise, the Castle was still man-made and was not indestructible. It could still crumble and mould - much to her mother’s despair - crack and wither as time pulled it down.
“You summoned me Mother?” Helena asked, her hand rapping thrice on the door to her Mother’s study. Rowena looked up from her studies.
“Yes, Helena I did,” her mother finished the letter she was writing before placing the quill back in its holder. Rowena took a deep breath and looked at her daughter; with a jolt in her stomach, she knew what this was about. “I know that you do not wish to talk about this Helena but we must address the term of your marriage.”
“No!” Helena shrieked, stepping away from her mother. “You cannot make me! I will not!” Helena’s mind was reeling with memories that she had hidden away in the back of her mind to gather dust.
Rowena gave her daughter a sympathetic glance before standing from her desk. “Helena,” she said smoothly, “I am truly sorry about Thomas but the world must move on. The world does not stop for love; if it did then the world would be a different place.”
Helena fought back tears. “Mother, I cannot marry anyone else. I was going to marry Thomas, we were going to love one another and live until our hair turned grey.” The memories returned to Helena like a tidal wave; the first touch, the dance that sparked more controversial feelings and thoughts. “You never loved Father,” Helena said bitterly, “you do not what it feels like to loose someone you love!”
Rowena recoiled as though she had been attacked by a snake. She grabbed her daughter’s wrist roughly. “Do not assume to know everything about me Helena,” Rowena hissed through her teeth. “You know nothing of love. You are young and foolish Helena; you shall marry this suitor that Godric and I have chosen for you or consequences will occur,” and at that, Rowena threw her daughter out of her study; slamming the door shut behind her.
But even the thick walls of Hogwarts could not keep out Helena’s yelling. “I hate it here Mother! I hate this School! I hate magic and most of all I hate you!”
Helena had been staring at her mother’s diadem for, what seemed like, hours. Her hands itched with anticipation; she wanted to touch it, to feel its power and gain its knowledge. With such an object in her possession, Helena had reasoned that she might find a way to bring Thomas back to life. With such power Helena could be superior to her mother and grant herself the freedom that she so desperately wanted.
“Good day Helena,” she let out a strangled gasp and spun around. Standing behind her was Lucifer Tate. He belonged to Salazar’s house and was the man that her mother suggested she marry. “Not doing anything suspicious I hope?” He taunted.
“Even if I was Lucifer, I most certainly would not tell you,” she retorted, flattening the pleats to her dress.
“You are most certainly a sight to behold Helena,” he said suddenly. “Your Mother does not do your beauty justice.”
“Thank you Lucifer. Now, if you’ll excuse me I must be going, Adele is expecting me in the library,” she pushed past him and exited the trophy room.
Helena and Rowena were yelling again. About what, neither could remember but both the Ravenclaw’s girl refused to be beaten. “You have kept me here since I was born Mother! You cannot just keep me locked up within these bland walls the rest of my life!” Helena yelled.
“Do not address me in that term Helena, I am your Mother!” Rowena yelled back.
“But I hate it here. I want to see other things; this Castle may be your home but it is not mine,” Helena lowered her voice before walking out of her Mother’s room. She could not do it any longer. Helena wanted to leave the Castle and she would be dammed if her Mother could stop her. Gathering her coat on the way out, Helena took only one possession. And that possession did not belong to her.
“Ms. Ravenclaw?” the frail body that sat lying on the bed looked up slowly. Rowena Ravenclaw had died when her daughter left with her diadem, what Lucifer Tate and Godric Gryffindor were looking at was only the shell that once held a beautiful soul. “We found your daughter,” Lucifer sounded scared and remorseful, but for what Rowena did not know.
“I wish to see her,” Rowena croaked. Before she died, Rowena wished to atone the feud between her daughter and herself. When the men did not reply Rowena knew what happened. “Who killed her?” Lucifer looked at the ground and, upon closer inspection, Rowena saw that blood stained his robes.
“My anger got the better of me,” he admitted. He didn’t try to defend his actions, he knew what he did was wrong and he was wearing her blood as punishment and public shame.
Even though Rowena was sick and could hardly manage a cohesive sentence, she struggled to her feet and walked to the window that overlooked her home. “Is she here?”
“Yes,” Godric answered, “she has locked herself in the Ravenclaw Tower.”
Rowena pursed her lips together but did not cry. She took a deep breath and made a vow in blood, “if my daughter cannot love Hogwarts as I do, then it will be a prison of her own making.”
Other Similar Stories
by H H