The ghost who drifted towards them was ethereal and graceful. Her long, dark hair flowed to her waist, and though her features were exquisitely beautiful, her expression was one of profound, distant sorrow. A long cloak trailed behind her, billowing softly in an unfelt breeze.
"Long time no see, Uncle Dracula," she murmured, her voice a soft whisper as she inclined her head in a graceful curtsy.
Dracula's lips curved into a teasing smile. "Indeed, it has been a while, Helena. A few centuries pass, and you've become so formal."
A flicker of shame crossed her delicate features. "It isn't formality," she confessed, her voice barely audible. "I... I simply haven't had the courage to face you."
When she looked at Dracula, the proud and aloof mask she wore for the rest of the world dissolved, revealing the vulnerability of a young girl caught by her parents after doing something terribly wrong.
Seeing her familiar, pained expression, Dracula's thoughts drifted back across more than nine hundred years.
Helena Ravenclaw, daughter of the great founder, Rowena Ravenclaw. In those early days, Rowena and Dracula had shared a deep and respectful friendship, and her daughter had come to know him as a trusted uncle. But then, sometime after Hogwarts was built, Dracula had been called away from his Scottish holdings, summoned back to Romania to preside over the burgeoning vampire clans. It was during his absence that tragedy struck.
Rowena, whose personal maxim was that "wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," had been relentlessly demanding of her daughter's intellect. Helena, buckling under the immense pressure and the sting of her own perceived failures, made a desperate choice. She stole her mother's enchanted diadem—believing it held the power to grant her the wisdom she so craved—and fled Hogwarts.
Ashamed and heartbroken by her daughter's betrayal, Rowena kept the theft a secret, telling no one, not even the other founders or Dracula himself. But the grief of her daughter's departure festered within her, blooming into a sickness of the mind and body that soon proved fatal. On her deathbed, Rowena made one final, desperate request. She sent the Baron, a man who loved Helena deeply, to find her daughter and bring her home for one last goodbye.
It was a decision she would have regretted for eternity, had she had one.
The Baron found Helena, but she refused to return. She rejected his pleas and, once again, his affections. Having grown up in the shadow of a figure as charismatic and powerful as Dracula, the coarse temper and obsessive attentions of the Baron held no appeal for her. In a moment of blind rage and spurned love, he drew a dagger and struck her down. Consumed by remorse, he then turned the blade on himself.
Thus, two lives ended, and two ghosts were bound to Hogwarts forever: the aloof Grey Lady of Ravenclaw and the terrifying Bloody Baron.
"That was nearly a millennium ago, Helena," Dracula said, his voice softening with a rare note of sympathy. "There is no need to carry that guilt forever. Your mother would not have wanted you to spend eternity drowning in remorse."
Helena shook her head, a sad, translucent gesture. "But guilt... or rather, attachment... is the anchor that binds a ghost to this world," she whispered. "If I ever truly let it go, perhaps I would cease to exist entirely."
Dracula fell silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air.
"My, my, Professor Dracula," Dumbledore's voice cut through the heavy silence, his eyes twinkling with keen interest. "And here I was, thinking you were incapable of offering comfort. It seems you simply reserve it for those you truly care for. First Nicolas Flamel, and now the Grey Lady. You are full of surprises."
Dracula shot him an irritated look. He was beginning to realize that Dumbledore greatly enjoyed trying to saddle him with these very human connections, as if to prove some grand theory about the power of bonds.
"Enough of this pointless chatter. We have work to do," Dracula said, briskly changing the subject. He turned back to Helena. "There is a rather... unstable spirit over there. I need you to help calm her. The Headmaster and I have some questions for her."
Helena nodded silently and glided towards the stall where Moaning Myrtle was hiding.
Myrtle was still thrashing about in the toilet, making pitifully small splashes as she tried to find an angle that would allow her to properly drown herself.
"Myrtle Warren, cease this ridiculous display at once!" Helena's voice was sharp and cold, cutting through Myrtle's pathetic sobs. "Your behavior is a disgrace to the name of Ravenclaw!"
When she wasn't facing Dracula, Helena's proud, imperious nature returned in full force. Though few knew she was the founder's daughter, her aloof and regal bearing had earned her a high degree of respect—and fear—among the students of her former house.
Myrtle instantly recognized that imperious tone. It was the Grey Lady. With a spectral shiver, she scrambled out of the toilet, clumsily righting herself in mid-air and making a futile attempt to smooth her ghostly pigtails.
"Now, come here," Helena commanded sternly. "Headmaster Dumbledore and Uncle Dracula have some questions for you."
Myrtle nodded timidly and floated towards the two professors. Then her eyes went wide.
"Dracula... Uncle?" she squeaked in astonishment. "That handsome professor is your uncle?!"
"That's right," Helena confirmed coolly. "Professor Dracula is my elder. Is that a problem?"
Myrtle's face immediately fell. "Oh, that's terrible," she muttered, her voice sinking into a despondent whisper. "If he's the Grey Lady's uncle, he must be ancient... and powerful. He's probably not going to die in the Defense Against the Dark Arts job anytime soon, is he..."
With his supernatural hearing, Dracula caught every word. His expression darkened.
Helena glanced back at him, a faint, wry smile touching her lips for the first time. "Your charm hasn't faded over the centuries, Uncle Dracula," she teased.
The one who had, by his very existence, set her standards so impossibly high that a man like the Baron could never hope to reach them. Uncle Dracula, she thought with a flicker of wry amusement, was, as always, a heartbreaker.
***
(End of Chapter)
[Check Out My Patreon For +20 Extra Chapters On All
My Fanfics!!] [www. [email protected]/meowthtl]
[+300 Power Stones = +1 Bonus Chapter]
[+500 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[Thank You For Your Support!]