"Phew."
In Ravenclaw Tower, standing by the window of an unused classroom, Penelope Clearwater gazed at the night scene outside and released a heavy breath.
Although this was in Ravenclaw Tower, this area was outside the common room proper. During curfew, students theoretically shouldn't be anywhere near here.
So what she was doing now was definitely violating school rules.
In her six years at Hogwarts, she'd hardly broken any regulations. It was precisely because of this spotless record that she'd earned the responsibility of being a Prefect.
Breaking school rules was genuinely nerve-wracking.
With this thought, Penelope suddenly laughed softly, her gaze out the window carrying complex emotions.
A Prefect taking the lead in breaking school rules—if caught by the caretaker, this position should probably be given to someone else immediately.
But after the brief laugh faded, determination flashed in Penelope's eyes.
For the matter described in that letter, all of this was worth it!
Arms crossed, Penelope leaned against the nearby wall, her thoughts drifting unbidden to that distant past.
She'd grown up in a Muggle family. Her father was descended from minor nobility. Although nobles passed down to this era no longer held anything particularly special, and her family had long since declined, there were still many customs that only aristocratic families maintained.
Speech and deportment, table manners, and the mentality of staying composed when encountering difficulties and never bringing shame to the family name.
This also meant that after entering Hogwarts, she hadn't panicked like other Muggle-born young wizards but quickly adapted to this magical school with practised grace.
After understanding this world better, she'd quickly begun investigating something that concerned her profoundly.
In her memory, before age seven, she'd had a mother.
She was a woman who wore glasses and exuded an intellectual presence. She was remarkably gentle, always taking Penelope to various places with a warm smile, and would hold her close when she was exhausted from learning etiquette, easing her distress.
With her mother's company, she'd experienced a childhood that was wonderfully happy compared to other aristocratic children.
But all this changed in her seventh year.
What should have been an ordinary day—her mother was invited out by a friend for afternoon tea, but after she left, she never returned.
At first she'd been devastated, frantic, because her mother was the person closest to her in this world. She couldn't accept the fact that her mother had left and never came back.
But after witnessing her other family members' reactions, her sadness and anxiety gradually transformed into deep confusion.
From that day forward, her father never mentioned her mother again. Other family members seemed to have completely forgotten her mother's very existence. When she asked about her mother, they all told her with genuinely regretful expressions that her mother had died shortly after giving birth to her.
But her memories of her mother were crystal clear—every precious moment from when she became aware until age seven. How could those possibly be false?
With this gnawing uncertainty, she'd worked desperately in the Muggle world for a long time, but how could a child possibly locate a missing person nobody else remembered?
Over time, even she'd begun doubting whether her mother had ever truly existed.
When an owl landed on the windowsill, bringing her into this new world, hope reignited within her chest.
Her family's memory loss was most likely because someone had cast Memory Charms on them. This caster could be her mother herself, or it could be the person who caused her mother's disappearance!
All she needed to do was study magic diligently—those magical spells would surely help her find her mother!
Driven by her desperate longing for her mother, she'd studied relentlessly at school. Although she hadn't yet come of age, if she took the Auror qualifying exam now, she could pass with ease.
However, until now, she still hadn't found any clues related to her mother.
Name magic couldn't locate her. Divination based on appearance gave no feedback whatsoever. It was as if her mother had been nothing more than Penelope's imagination—no magic could prove she'd ever existed.
Even when she'd found methods to divine her own origins, the result she received was that her mother had died after giving birth to her.
Six years passed swiftly. All that remained of this matter was a bit of sheer stubbornness, and even this stubbornness was about to dissipate into resignation.
But today, this question she was about to abandon had once again revealed a tantalising clue.
Someone unknown had left a letter in her common room, telling her to come to this classroom at night—they had something important to tell her.
At first, she'd felt no particular interest in this letter. After all, many people sought her attention—not every letter received her response.
But one sentence at the end of that letter made her determined to come to this classroom even at the risk of losing her Prefect position entirely.
[I know clues about Fione Syverson. If you want to find her, come.]
Recalling the information in the letter, Penelope surveyed the surrounding environment with tactical awareness.
Actually, the castle hadn't been particularly safe recently. Rumours circulated that a basilisk wandered the corridors, ready at any moment to accept the Heir of Slytherin's command to kill all Muggle-born students.
Although she didn't know if her mother was a witch, her father was undeniably a Muggle, which meant she was very likely one of that so-called heir's targets.
But she missed that gentle mother too desperately. Since she'd received news potentially related to her, even if danger lurked, she had to try.
Moreover—if the danger truly came from that so-called basilisk, she needn't worry excessively.
With this thought, Penelope pulled out a small mirror from inside her robes and examined her own reflection.
By the cold moonlight filtering through the window, she could see that in her pale green pupils, a faint black tinge was barely visible.
This was a protective item Professor Kahn had distributed before the last gathering. As long as they wore this, the basilisk's lethal gaze wouldn't kill them—only petrify.
This enchanted lens was also the most important reason why she, as a Muggle-born young witch, had the confidence to potentially face a basilisk.
Tucking away the mirror, determination blazed in Penelope's eyes.
Just petrification—it might not even happen to her. For news of her mother, she was willing to take this calculated risk!
Taking another steadying breath, Penelope leaned back against the wall, letting her eyes drift half-closed as she recalled the past. A wistful smile gradually appeared on her face.
Time crawled forward. Suddenly, Penelope's eyes snapped open, her gaze sharpening with practised alertness. She wiped the expression from her face and looked toward the door.
An extremely subtle sound came from outside the door. If she hadn't trained herself in Auror detection methods while searching for her mother, she truly might not have detected this faint movement.
Placing her hand on her wand, Penelope pressed herself against the wall, watching the classroom door with heightened vigilance.
The next second, the classroom door slowly creaked open, revealing the seemingly empty corridor beyond.