A/N: Hey, fellas!

I know what you're currently thinking, "Another fucking story? Really? What about the other two?" and I say, my good friend, chiiiiill. I've kinda lost determination over them so I um.. yeah.

So I was watching Chamber of Secrets a couple weeks ago and I went all ASDFGHJKL; over Tom Riddle. So lately I've been in the Tom Riddle/OC and Tomione section of this lovely Harry Potter world! And I've got to say... damn. He was quite the looker in COS.

I was inspired (not only by COS... duh) but by Anastasia, the cartoon/musical. I'm just fasinated by the entire concept of living this wonderful, almost fairytale life then abruptly snatched away. I really got true inspiration from "Once Upon A December" when she's dancing with all these people and family from her memory. But she remembers them, but not entirely. I thought it was so... fairytale-like. In a complicated way. And I love complicated fairytales :D

SO. I plan on actually updating these little shenanigans, mostly because my good friend (Elli) is forcing me to actually go through with this silly thing.

OHHHH and I've recently become a Whovian! Well, not recently, a while ago, but I haven't been on this thingamajig. So yeah, thought I'd share it.

As for this story, I kinda had Tom looking like Christian Coulson from COS, because on honest terms, he makes my ovaries explode. I mean, hhhhnng.

So, lets get started!

"Fucking hair, if only I could shave it all off." Helena said with venom, as she stared acidly at her reflection in her mirror, eyes pointed directly to the dark-red mess piled atop her head. Her hands cramped and twisted in her locks in a vain attempt to achieve the complicated braid. Sharp, hazel eyes shot across the vanity mirror in search of another blasted bobby pin, and with determination set in those very eyes, began to reach for the desired pin. Helena looked at her hair, "If you fall out of my hands one more time, so help me..." she said in a challenging voice. But her hair, much like her own attitude, was defiant and slipped out her hands for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning. "Fine! Have it your way!" she reprimanded, throwing her hands in the air in defeat.

"Gee, Lena. You need to relax." said Marta, who just entered the stark dormitory. Her blonde hair seemed to have agreed with her that afternoon, as it was put into a sleek, stylish bun. Her sky blue eyes lit her elongated features, making her seem more like a super model than a student. A thick cloak covered her angled frame to shield away the snow, and the said cloak was sporting a Gryffindor badge, similar to Helena's. She had her trunks packed and was ready for the train.

Helena turned around, rats nest whipping around as fast as she and shot more daggers at Marta, "Oi, you haven't been the one doing this fucking hairdo since one this afternoon! And it's Helena." she snapped back to her tall, blonde friend.

Marta faked a gasp, clasping her long hand over her own mouth, dropping her trunks in the same second, "Why, Miss Helena, what foul language! Those words are not for young ladies!" Both the girls laughed at Marta's performance.

Helena knew lots of people, but she didn't have many friends. Not after she lost her entire childhood memory. She'd never admit, being the show-no-weakness-Gryffindor she was, but she was terrified of losing more memories. But through it all, she had one true friend, Marta. Marta was a proud Gryffindor, with a bubbling personality, clever wit, loyalty, and was a brave friend. It was moments like these that Helena felt both grateful and worried. Grateful to have a strong friendship, but worried constantly that these precious moments would be lost forever.

Marta eyes looked up at Helena's insane hair with scrutiny in her glare, "Whatcha doin' with all that hair? Impressing someone, hmm?" she asked teasingly.

The short Gryffindor faked a laugh and rolled her eyes, "Only you, Blondie, would think something as innocent as doing a bloody hairdo is an act for some boy."

The said Blondie raised an eyebrow in accusation, a small smirk playing on her face. With a huff, she said, "C'mere you crazy ginger. I need someone to say goodbye to me at the train!"

Helena got up, completely abandoning her elaborate hair plans and putting her hair up in a simple ponytail, "It's not fair," Helena stated as the friends walked out of the Gryffindor common room and down the stairways, "I can't believe you're going away for Christmas while I sit her moping all by myself."

Marta laughed at the red-head's hopelessness, "You aren't going to be miserable! I swear! Besides, you'll probably either find something to do, with your curiosity. Or end up in a fight." she ended with a mischievous giggle.

The redhead looked up to Marta, her small features in a serious setting, hazel eyes yet again icy, "I most certainly will not start a fight, just end them. And who said curiosity was a bad thing?"

They both made their way down the steps along with the other students who were leaving for the holiday. The hollow knocks of trunks and other baggagery filled the corridors and courtyard like a fumbling choir, only to be muffled by the newly laid blanket of snow. Noises of "goodbyes" and "Happy Christmas" and "Happy Holidays" were deafening. The girls walked onwards to the departing train, which was huffing and whistling for the students to hurry on board. Marta then stepped onto the train step and faced her friend.

"Please, Helena, don't get into trouble. Do your mind exercises. Hey- I'm serious! Just enjoy the break like normal witches your age!"

Helena looked up to her friend, a cheeky smirk graced her pixie feature, "I'll try my best, Blondie, but no guarantees."

Marta then laughed, her eyes harboring a naughty twinkle, she cocked her head to the side, grinning evilly, "Well, you could hang out with that one boy you always gush about. Tom Riddle, was that his name?"

Helena's glare became deadly; lips pressing in a thin line, her already fiery hair seemed to be scalding at the mention of his name, "For fucks sake, Marta. I wouldn't be with that snake if he was the last person on Earth. He -"

The train began to start, moving at a beginners pace when Marta cut her off, "Oh, my ginger darling, I know you secretly fancy him. And really, language!" The train fully pulled away before Helena could shoot any more protests back. She left her friend sputtering and fuming for a couple seconds before she moved on back to the dormitories.

It's not like she completely hated Tom, it's just… well, she didn't exactly enjoy his presences in any way-shape-or-form. She didn't like the fact that everyone worshipped the very ground he walked on, or how teachers thought he was just brilliant. Which he was… oh just stop it! She reprimanded herself mentally.

She didn't know anything about him, except the fact that he had his own group of beserk fangirls. In fact, now that she thought about it, she has never talked to this Tom Riddle.

Oh well. His loss.

It never really dawned on Helena how many students were away until she reached the Gryffindor common room. The normally chaotic, Babel-atmosphere was muted, not a

mouse nor cat was moving. She could hear muffled movements from students who were staying over the holiday in their own dormitories, but it was still unnerving. Not even the fireplace was going, adding to the overall stillness of the once alive common room. Though the silence was out of place, she relaxed at this solitude and loosed her red and orange tie, making her way to the ice-like fireplace. With a whisk of her wand, the dead void was crackling and spitting with heat. The tired ginger made her way to the empty couches and flopped down, her head looked up to the ceiling in a dreamy state.

She began her post-amnesic exercises. "Close your eyes, clear your mind, and find the strongest memory..." she whispered in a relaxing cadence. She felt the world dissolve away and her mind open like a storybook.

She was sitting in a dining room that felt oddly familiar, like she's seen the very room a million times before in a dream or distant memory. She was eating dinner, a very nice dinner, and five others sat around the table, all dressed immaculately. A woman, who seemed to be in her thirties looked at Helena with love and warmth, familiar dark blue eyes met her youthful, hazel eyes. Helena, who must've been six or so, felt a tingling in her chest, she glanced down to see a shining light coming through her-


Helena's eyes flung open to the odd sound, scared out of her mind. She dared not move she could feel the noise almost inside the common room. What the hell was that? Was it the door? No, no, it couldn't be. The door can't possibly make that noise. Was it first years? Maybe. They did sound like footsteps, but... inhuman footsteps. And first years couldn't be that loud, could they?

Maybe if they're portly, she thought smugly.

The Gryffindor stood up, her clothes, tie, and hair all a disheveled mess, and strode to the door. She put her hand hesitantly on the knob and turned.

No one. Absolutely no one. Not a soul at the door, in the corridor, anywhere. Hell, she was sure that there wasn't anyone in the corridor above her! A Kafkaesque feeling rose within her from the surreal noises she was hearing. Helena closed the door and turned, eyes surveying the room under extreme scrutiny. No one in the common room, she wondered. Her breath felt ragged, her head was spinning, why was she freaking out over this? There were always strange noises at Hogwarts, hell; there were well-known ghost in the damn building, but still. No one human could make such noises, ghouls or not. She abandon all silly thoughts and headed to her dorm.

A wave of exhaustion flooded over her limbs and head, becoming a dead weight. She would have the entire dorm room to herself; all her roommates left for the holiday leaving her alone for remainder of the school break. She slowly wobbled to her bed; which was adorned with Gryffindor reds and golds, and her favorite band posters around her headboard. Helena flopped onto her bed, arms outstretched and sinking into the plush comforter. She looked to her right to find Kathy's letter, opened, but still folded up. She read it last night, but still didn't comprehend any of it. She felt so different from Kathy, the Irish landlady who was her guardian since she was eight, because she was basically an entire different witch. She did do magic, as well as attended Hogwarts, but was an old fashioned spinster, even to the 1940's standard. Kathy had pepper grey hair, with dry and leathery crow's feet sprouting from the corners of her eyes. Her eyes were dulled, but still a deep chocolate brown. She and Helena constantly fought, with Helena's natural leadership characteristics and Kathy's assumption of authority always caused tension. Helena grasped the letter with a lazy hand a reread the ancient handwriting.

Dearest Helena Dean,

I hope that your sixth year of Hogwarts is treating you well. I can't believe how much you've grown from the little eight year old you are to the young lady you are today, albeit a cheeky young lady, but still wonderful and beautiful.

I'm sorry that I couldn't have you over for Holiday this year, but I know you'll understand. I'd love to have you over, my Lena, but times are indeed tough, the muggle stock market crash didn't just affect the muggles, you know. Getting a job nowadays are harder than ever, or a well-paying job for that matter. But I am thankful enough to say that I was able to keep my cleaning job at the Smith's estate. But I did receive massive pay cuts from my said maid work, and with no one going to vacation in the Austrian estate, money has become tight. But I will send you a Christmas gift (and don't say you don't deserve one, young lady! You'll get one if it's the death of me!) when Christmas does roll around.

But aside from the Christmas wishes and praise, there is something I must tell you. The gift you will be getting from me this year is a family heirloom. I decided you were recovering well from your amnesia and thought maybe it could help be a trigger for your memories from your past.

Sweet Helena, I hope you know that I have come to care for you like a daughter, even through our impossible bickering and misunderstandings, you will always have a place in my heart. Please, be good, and be careful with the gift coming in. It could be dangerous in the wrong hands.

Love always,

Kathy Dean.

The last sentence still rang in Helena's mind, it could be dangerous in the wrong hands. What in God's green Earth did that mean? The wrong hands? Like who? A robbers? A pawn shop owner? Her Kathy always did say quite vague things (although they had to be, if she said too much about Helena's childhood, the brain's healing process would reverse), but how could a silly family heirloom, the very family she'd forgotten, could be dangerous? Maybe it was powerful, could see in the future, hell; maybe it could tell you how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop!

She threw the letter back down to her side, watching it with lingering eyes as it floated down to her bed. Helena's head rolled to her left side and searched for her bedside clock, 11:36 pm. "The fuck?" she exclaimed. How could it be eleven at night already? She missed lunch and dinner! The train departed at three that afternoon, and she clearly remembers Marta's teasing that only was an hour ago, did her exercises last that long again? Most likely, when she was stretching her memory bank usually she'd lose all track of time, which explains why she felt so tired and drained.

Helena then let her head fully slump into her pillow, thinking in the back of her head how this bed was nicer than the one she had at home. And in an odd way, she missed Kathy and Marta. Sometimes she felt like there were too many people pestering her, but it was one of those rare moments when she craved people.

The now drained ginger lifted her wand lethargically and transfigured her school robes to comfortable sleeping shorts and a t-shirt that hung off her shoulder. She figured if she was going to be alone for the next couple weeks, she could dress as comfortably as possible in her empty dorm room.

She ran her fingers through her deep-red hair, remembering the braid she was trying to accomplish. She had remembered the braid in one of her fragmented memories of her childhood. But for some odd reason, she kept missing a step, annoying her to no end. She liked completing things. It was something she had to do.

With a final, faint smile, she drifted off to slumber.

(Page break)


Helena woke with a start, sitting upright in her bed. That noise, that accursed noise was back. Just when she thought this day couldn't get any more abnormal.

She clutched the sheets, bringing them up to her chin. Sweat started to dibble on her forehead and temples. Oh no no, no! Not again!

She was frozen in her upright position, not even daring to move her eyes to survey the room. She quickly ruled out the possibility of footsteps (or portly first-years), because she knew that those weren't footsteps, more like slithering and hitting.

The disturbing noises came back.


Oh God, they're getting closer! Helena had the sheets now hiding her head in a sorry attempt to make it all go away. Just go, go away.

She then looked at herself in disbelief. "I am not a child! And I most certainly wasn't put in Gryffindor for no reason!" she silently chided herself. In a swift motion, she tore off the sweated comforter and snatched her wand.

She strode, wand held bravely in her small hands, out through the desolate common room and into the corridor. Her bare feet stepped on the cold marble, her cheeks were bitten red by jack frost. She stood still, surveying the corridor.

Not a soul was found. Normally, she'd let this entire THUNK THUNK shenanigan blow past her, but her Gryffindor pride convinced her otherwise. She had to get to the bottom of the disturbing footsteps.

She once again looked to her left, looking down the empty hall. There was no one there, but she could feel a burning sensation building rising in her chest. The sensation almost spoke to her, she knew someone was down there.

Walking deftly, she made her way to the eerie corridor. Her wand wasn't lighted; she oddly had enough light to see her way. Her chest still felt the swelling, heating feeling as she padded barefoot to the spot.

There was no more noise, but she still felt something ringing in her ear, like someone was talking, maybe in a different language. She quickened her pace at this new sound.

Breath now coming in carefully silent quips, she heard footsteps. Though they weren't like the odd foot noises (if they even came from feet) she heard earlier, but were tapping like school shoes. Men's school shoes. And they disturbed her more.

She nearly felt her heart burst in surprise when a teenager rounded the corner, confidence in a success she had not known. The dark and eerie eyes found hers.

Tom Riddle.

Tom fucking Riddle.

He froze on the spot, his right foot just in front of his left about to take another step. She could see his shoulders tense, his chin pointed at her, eyebrows raised in suspicion. He narrowed his dark gaze down upon her, "What are you doing out of bed, Helena?" Accusation dripped like acid from his words.

How did he know my name? Helena stood in a shocked and appalling state, staring at him incredulously, "I could say the same to you, Riddle." As if he could intimidate her. Ha!

She ignored his silence, "Didn't you hear all that?"

Tom played an innocent face well. A little too well, "Heard what, Miss Dean?"

Bloody hell. He knew her last name too? "Don't play stupid with me." she said sharply. "You heard those noises. They came from here, yeah?"

The Slytherin smirked back to the short ginger, "I heard no such noises, Miss Dean. But you should not be out of bed."

Helena's gaze narrowed at this entire ordeal, her chest heating up as she grew more frustrated. "You tell me what you're doing, Riddle. I don't give a damn if you're a perfect or stupidly worshipped by this school, you'll fucking tell me what you're doing."

Tom stared back at her in shock, fixing his gaze on her chest, "What… what is that?"

She looked down to see her chest glowing in the very center. It quickly disappeared at her first glance. Her head swung up again to meet Tom's eyes.

He's quite handsome… and so dark- OI! Snap out of it!

This entire thing was becoming quite odd.

She was dumbfounded herself, but quickly came up with a comeback and cocked her head mockingly, "What is it, Tom? Jealous?"

His face darkened and turned deadly at her remark, "You'll go back to your bed now, Miss Dean."

Helena scoffed at his attempt to frighten her. Rolling her eyes, she said boredly, "Alright Tommy Tom. I leave you to whatever the hell you're- "

Suddenly, her had a hold of her arm with a firm grip, "No, let me escort you back, darling." He began to half drag her back to her dormitory.

Yes. This is quite odd too.

"What the hell is your deal? I have never spoken to you, or make any eye contact for that matter, yet her you are! Mister Fancy-Tom-Boy who is try to be so deep and mysterious and walking down the halls at night with your oh-so-fancy hairdo and name usage and shit! Jesus Christ, you know I can escort my self! I can walk too! And furthermore- "

Her long rant was cut short by Tom spinning her around, pressing her against the wall with his one arm. His other clamped her mouth shut, "You won't speak of this to anyone," he threatened darkly, "or you'll pay, Dean. Pay." He looked down to the center of her chest again, which was emitting the strange light again. "And I'll have you know I will figure out what that damn light is." He looked into her eyes, which were completely blank, thanks to her acting skills, and her eyebrow raised in his ridiculous act, while in the inside, she was extremely confused, being both scared and amused. She never realized, but Tom was hot, as much as she hated it. Way to outshine all the other guys, Tommy Tom, she thought silently.

He finally let her go and stalked off in the opposite direction. She stood there, in her shorts and baggy t-shirt, still bewildered on what just happened. A curious hand made its way up to her mouth where Tom's hand was just mere moments ago. She could still feel his hand, clamping down on her.

She then walked to her dorm, head still spinning from the entire ordeal.

What an odd night…

A/N: So there you have it, Helena Dean as Miss OC.

Please read and review, tell m your thoughts, what you expect, anything that you think could better the story.