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chapter eight;
ghosts and exhaustion
They found the ghost of supposedly was Helena Ravenclaw, floating through an atrium near Ravenclaw Tower after many failed attempts and multiple situations in which they would've been caught if not for Amaya's wards—after all, Regulus was up after curfew, even if he was the Head Boy, and Sirius and Amaya had no place to be there since they weren't even students.
The Gray Lady was a beautiful woman, with long dark hair and olden robes that looked ethereal in ghost form. She had a serene look about her, despite some haughtiness being carried over from the afterlife. And though she found it strange every time she met a ghost, Amaya couldn't help but shiver at the coldness of their magic.
Ghosts were odd beings, not particularly alive but not completely dead either. It was the type of magic that Amaya couldn't quite grasp and so couldn't quite control or modify, but it was fascinating what the touch of death could do to one's magic.
Amaya told the boys to stay hidden under her wards as she slipped out, showing herself to the ghost that startled like a proper lady, only straightening herself and narrowing her eyes. She remained quiet and Amaya sighed, before putting herself in her mother's shoes, in the position of a lady from society with a heart that went out to others (well, aside from their daughters).
"Hello, I was told you were the Gray Lady," Amaya stated, and the ghost merely nodded her head tilting curiously at her. "Helena Ravenclaw?"
"That is correct," she answered coldly, narrowing her eyes at Amay. "Who might you be? You're not a student."
"I'm not." Amaya smiled softly. "I'm just visiting. My name is Maya."
"Well, Maya, enjoy your stay." And she went to leave only Amaya stopped her.
"Please, I wish to speak to you. About your mother's diadem."
The ghost turned back, her shoulders raised, her lips pursed slightly. "I am afraid that I cannot help you."
"I'm afraid you can."
"You are hardly the first person to covet the diadem," she said disdainfully. "Generations of students have badgered me— "
"I hardly need better grades, Helena. I'm not a student, nor am I a moron." Amaya looked at her challengingly, not backing down, and Helena's lips twitched in amusement. "I only wish to defeat Voldemort. Or is that not something you want for the creature who butchered your mother's diadem?"
Her pale cheeks turned darker and more opaque, as if she was blushing and her voice was heated as she replied, "Of course I do. How dare you suggest I'd wish something so vile to walk this Earth?"
"I never said such words, Helena."
"Well, how do you know he butchered my mother's diadem? I didn't give it to him!" she said haughtily.
"I just do. Voldemort was looking to create a Horcrux—" Helena's ghostly face went paler if possible, " —and the diadem must be strong enough to hold someone's soul. As well as it is meaningful. Voldemort had a connection to Hogwarts after all—"
"Oh, dear. It couldn't possibly..." Helena closed her eyes and when she opened them, regret was written in them. She paused for a few moments and finally began speaking, her voice a deadly whisper carried by the wind, "I stole the diadem from my mother. I sought to make myself cleverer, and more important than my mother. I ran away with it."
Amaya only stayed quiet, urging the ghost to go on, not questioning what prompted her to trust her with the story. Not mentioning she didn't exactly need a whole life story, full of woe, just the last part that told her where Helena had placed the diadem.
"My mother, they say, never admitted that the diadem was gone, but pretended that she still had it. She concealed her loss, my dreadful betrayal, even from the other founders of Hogwarts.
"Then my mother fell ill-fatally ill. In spite of my perfidy, she was desperate to see me one more time. She sent a man who had long loved me, though I spurned his advances, to find me. She knew that he would not rest until he had done so.
"He tracked me to the forest where I was hiding. When I refused to return with him, he became violent. The Baron was always a hot-tempered man. Furious at my refusal, jealous of my freedom, he stabbed me." The Gray Lady lifted aside the cloak she wore to reveal a single dark wound in her white chest. "When he saw what he had done, he was overcome with remorse. He took the weapon that had claimed my life and used it to kill himself. All these centuries later, he wears his chains as an act of penitence... as he should," she added bitterly.
Amaya nodded. "Naturally."
Helena's lips tugged up into an almost imperceptible smile. "The diadem remained where I had hidden it when I heard the Baron blundering through the forest toward me. Concealed inside a hollow tree in a forest in Albania. A lonely place I thought was far beyond my mother's reach."
"But you gave its location away, didn't you?"
Helena looked away in shame. "I did. To a student by the name of Tom Riddle. I had... no idea... He was... flattering. He seemed to... to understand... to sympathize..."
"Tom Riddle?"
Helena nodded. "Yes. I only saw him once more. He was applying for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position in the castle. I saw him pass by the Room of Hidden Things."
"The what?"
Helena brought her hand up to her lips as if concealing a sob that never came. "I handed him my mother's diadem. And he butchered it."
"You believe Tom Riddle and Voldemort to be the same person?" asked Amaya and Helena nodded briskly.
"No one could've risen such an army without a certain amount of... charm. Besides, I might not be as clever as my mother was, but I did learn some things in my life, Maya dear. And the paintings talk, and they've eyes in the Headmaster's office you see. They tell me things. And Dumbledore knows who Voldemort is. And what a danger he's already become."
Amaya took a few seconds to process the information, her sleep-deprived brain going miles an hour with the adrenaline that came with getting closer to her goal. "You believe the diadem is in the Room of Hidden Things?"
"Where else, my dear?" Helena shook her head. "If it's not there, then I fear it's lost forever."
"Thank you, Helena," Amaya said with a small smile, "For everything."
The ghost nodded haughtily. "You're welcome, Maya."
And Amaya had raised her wards again, joining Sirius and Regulus who were looking at her with slacked jaws.
"You're bloody wicked finessing a ghost like that," Sirius said with a smirk.
"I'll look into Tom Riddle," Regulus added, not admitting to the fact that he too had seemed impressed. "Now, you two have got to leave."
"We can't. We have to find the Room of Hidden Things—"
"Maya," Regulus stopped her, "You look like you're just about to pass out. I don't know how much sleep you've been getting and I only met you today, but I'm surprised you can still stand. Schedule another visit with Dumbledore, but do leave now."
"You haven't been sleeping?" Sirius asked in concern, grabbing her jaw as he examined her face, and Amaya batted his hands away.
"I'm fine." She sighed. "Alright, whatever, we'll find it another day."
Once they got back to the office, Dumbledore was still gone, so Amaya turned to the brothers, saying she'd get going so they could have some more time to talk things over. She looked at Regulus and smiled. "It was nice to meet you, Reg. Please keep your mouth shut about what happened tonight, or Voldemort will be the least of your problems."
Regulus smirked. "You've got a lot of confidence for someone who looks about to keel over at a gush of wind."
She scowled at him. "Just swear you're on our side. On your magic."
Without hesitation, Regulus raised his wand and said clearly, "I, Regulus Black, swear on my magic, that I will fight against...Voldemort... with my brother and Amaya Santoro. For I am on their side at heart. And their side only."
"What if you get a girlfriend, you moron?" Sirius hissed. "Won't you be on her side?"
"It's only against the Dark Lord, Sirius." Regulus rolled his eyes. "Not for life."
"Thank you, Reg," said Amaya with a smile. "I'll see you at home, Sirius."
"Get some sleep, love—" She'd already gone through the Floo before he could get an answer.
Amaya's eyes drooped as she stared up at the ceiling, her mind begging her to shut it off. The ceiling was white, off-white, a white that felt warm and inviting, a white that hurt her eyes enough that she was considering closing them. Why she was analysing the ceiling Amaya wasn't exactly sure. She was fucking tired, she was.
She hadn't slept since the night James stayed with her, after all. That night, as she fell asleep in his arms which made her feel safe, her dreams were mostly good or just didn't exist. She knew that if he was there to hold her, she could at least rest, but the last thing Amaya wanted was to be a burden, to bother him, and so, the following nights she chose not to sleep.
She didn't want to wake up anyone with her screaming, didn't want to drag anyone else with her into sleepless nights. It was safe to say, people were starting to notice, no matter how many times she used magic to cover her dark circles. At least Regulus did, but she felt he knew exhaustion as well as she did, so perhaps he didn't count.
If she didn't sleep she wouldn't worry anyone with her nightmares, she wouldn't be dragged into memories she would rather take away from her brain. But she was so tired.
She bit the inside of her cheek, glancing at her door, and decided to be selfish. If her body was going to make her pass out from exhaustion she could at least make sure she could rest.
In the back of her head though, her sleepless brain was whispering that she missed being in his arms and that it wouldn't hurt to try.
Well, unless he told her to get lost.
Getting out of bed, Amaya tugged her shirt down covering her knickers, and slipped out of the room. The hallway was silent, the boys' doors were all closed, and they were probably asleep, but still she crossed it, and gently opened James' door.
She froze in the doorway when she found him awake, propped up against the headboard of his bed, reading what looked like her copy of And Then There Were None by the light of his wand—she had finished the book a couple of days ago and had wondered where it went after. He glanced up at her and his brows furrowed.
"Hi."
"Hey," he said, his voice laced with worry, as he put the book on his nightstand, still holding his wand to light the room. "Everything alright?"
She swallowed a lump in her throat, gathering her courage as she walked inside, hugging her arms around herself after she closed the door behind her. "I–" her voice broke and Amaya closed her eyes tightly for a moment before looking back at him. "I can't sleep," she admitted in a small voice.
His eyes softened and without a second hesitation he pulled the covers aside and tilted his head to the space in his bed, "Get in."
Amaya hesitated for a mere second before walking her to his bed and slipping under the covers that smelled so much like him as he took off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand. They lay side by side, under the dim light of his wand, their eyes not straying from each other, and Amaya loved how his eyes looked dark gray at the moment—their color ever so changing.
James broke the silence, by gently asking, "Have you been sleeping at all?"
Her hesitation was enough of her answer, and James' face twisted in worry.
"When was the last time you had proper rest?"
"Since that night," she said quietly, averting her eyes from his. "When I asked you to stay."
"That was three days ago."
She shrugged helplessly. "I didn't want to go back there. And I couldn't bother anyone. And I know I'm bothering you now, and I'm sorry, but this is the last time—"
"Come here," he said softly, cutting her off as he opened his arms.
Without thinking, she moved over on the bed, allowing herself to lay in his arms, her head buried in his shoulder as his arms wrapped around her. She let out a shaky breath as he held her to him, running his hand through her hair.
"I had the best sleep of my life that night, Maya," he murmured, his other hand running up and down her back comfortingly.
"I did too," she confessed quietly.
He pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head, his arms providing a comforting cocoon, and like always his magic embraced her, making her heart race. "Good. You're not bothering me, so don't apologize. I'm here for you. If it helps you sleep, then you can stay here every night."
Amaya felt a warmth spreading through her chest, a mixture of gratitude and something else she wasn't quite ready to identify. She tilted her head up and gently pressed a kiss to his jaw, silently appreciating the solace he offered.
"Sleep," James whispered, his voice a gentle lullaby. "I'm not going anywhere. You're not alone."
"Thanks, Jamie," she said as she allowed herself to drift away into sleep in his arms again.
"Anytime, love."
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