EXILE | TOM RIDDLE

03. Fire and Ice

I spend an hour or two with Helena, simply going over her life since her death. William Savoy, now known as the Bloody Baron, had in fact been the one to stab her to death, before turning the knife onto himself. While several people around me have said as much, hearing it from Helena solidifies it in my mind, a brick settling into place.

Now, she lingers in the halls of Hogwarts, only occasionally speaking to the students that she passes by. She is the head ghost of Ravenclaw — and William the one of Slytherin, causing fury to build in me when I find this out. He should be burning in Hell, not in the same castle as my sister, as the woman whose death he caused.

While the temptation to inquire about the diadem Helena stole bites at me, I manage to hold my tongue and refrain from the question. If she wants to tell me, she will. Perhaps she does not even remember, given how long ago it has been since she hid the artifact. Perhaps someone has since found it, and taken it for themselves.

Either way, it is none of my business, I figure, though as I eventually slip away from my sister and to the Ravenclaw common room, my mind remains fixed on it. Two of of my mother's most prized artifacts, both stolen, and both of the thieves meeting the strangest of endings, be it death or time travel. Surely there is something more to it, though I cannot detect what it could possibly be. My Ravenclaw mind is stunted at this, and when I answer the riddle that leads me into the common room, I am trying with all my might to get my brain to shut its thoughts off.

The common room is, for the most part, empty, giving me the perfect view of it, to spot just how much it has changed in the past one thousand years. A lot, I determine as my eyes scan the room. It has changed a lot. What once had been plain stone walls are now draped with majestic tapestries, and lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves — practically enough to create an entire library. The old wooden chairs have been replaced with lavish blue cushions, and a burning fireplace ignites the room with warmth, banishing any of the lingering cold from my skin.

Out of everything, the only thing that remains the exact same as before are the stained windows, various images painted onto the glass. My mother is on the largest, her billowing blue dress flowing behind her as she stares off into the room with her chin held high and an expression of pure neutrality on her face. It's so realistic, so lifelike and reminiscent of Rowena Ravenclaw, that I nearly stumble back in shock.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" A wispy voice comments from behind me.

I turn around to find a dark skinned girl hovering feet away, staring up at the glass with brown eyes wide, as though in some sort of trance by the piece of art.

"It is," I agree.

"Some people think Ravenclaw is a boring house, but I disagree," the woman continued. "Not when the founder looks like that. She's so...regal. Just like us, wouldn't you say?"

"I would, yes," I respond, unsure if that is the correct answer. It must be, given the way her lips grow into a smile.

"My name is Abigail. I haven't seen you around before — are you new or something?"

"Yes," I nod. "My name is Rebekah. It is a pleasure to meet you, Abigail."

Her smile increases, her lips twisting ever so slightly. "Aren't you a funny thing!"

I blink, unsure what it is she finds funny about me, but decide not to question it.

"What are you doing here, anyways? What brings you to Hogwarts?"

"Time travel," I answer automatically, the words slipping from my traitorous tongue before I can stop them. Immediately, my face burns a bright red, and I open my mouth again to take it back, but before I can get a word out, Abigail barks a laugh.