Chapter 20: The Grey Lady
"The good news," Ryan said, "is that we've definitely found a place where things can be hidden."
Professor Flitwick peered into the cavernous room. "And the bad news?"
"Isn't it obvious, Professor?" Ryan gestured at the towering mountains of junk. "This room is enormous, probably two or three times the size of the Great Hall. Even so, it's nearly full to the ceiling. How are we supposed to find something when we don't even know what we're looking for?"
"I'm afraid Ryan has a point," Dumbledore said, turning back with a twinkle in his eye. "It would be very difficult to find our target in advance." He gave Ryan a subtle wink. "Perhaps this could be the site of a little treasure-hunting expedition in the future?"
Professor Flitwick shook his head, thinking the idea far too dangerous. Ryan, however, understood Dumbledore's unspoken suggestion perfectly. But having spent years exploring ancient ruins, he knew that magical items had a shelf life. He was just about to say that after so many years, most of these old trinkets would have lost their magic when he noticed something.
An old, battered broomstick—a model so ancient it belonged in a museum—was still faintly pulsing with magical energy.
He drew his wand and cast a detection spell. The charm was heavily suppressed by the powerful magic of the Room, but within its limited range, he could sense that nearly every item in the junk pile still held a trace of magic.
"Is it because of the Room?" he asked, surprised. It certainly wasn't because the students who hid their things here were all magical prodigies; if that were the case, Hogwarts would have produced a steady stream of archmages throughout history, and the other ten major magic schools would have long since closed down from lack of students.
"Perhaps it is Hogwarts itself," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "Filius, what are your thoughts?"
"I agree. As Ryan mentioned, it feels like a room left behind by Rowena Ravenclaw. I am inclined to believe him," Professor Flitwick said, picking through the detritus on the floor.
"A room left by Lady Ravenclaw?" Dumbledore mulled this over. "In that case, I have a small task for you, Ryan. I would like you to, in a personal capacity, ask the Grey Lady what she thinks of the Room of Requirement."
The Grey Lady? Ravenclaw's ghost? The proud, yet polite and kind-hearted spirit? Ryan couldn't quite grasp Dumbledore's reasoning. As Headmaster, it would be a simple matter for him to get information from a House ghost. And yet, he was asking Ryan to do it, and in a personal capacity.
Is it because the Grey Lady refuses to speak to boisterous lions? he wondered sarcastically. He knew that couldn't be it; Dumbledore was, without a doubt, one of the most gifted wizards in centuries.
"Of course, Headmaster. I will speak with the Grey Lady as soon as I can," Ryan said, trusting in Dumbledore's famously cunning mind.
"You have quite a lot on your plate this year, Ryan," Dumbledore noted. "Professor Flitwick's and Professor McGonagall's clubs, your own Adventurers' Club, and the O.W.L.s at the end of the year."
"However," Dumbledore continued, his eyes twinkling, "after your… dissertation… in my office the other day, I have been reading some ancient texts from the East. There is a saying that for one to achieve greatness and bear heavy responsibilities, one must be constantly tested and tempered." He paused, a smile playing on his lips. "I imagine such an additional task requires no further reward. But I shall award Ravenclaw ten points all the same."
Professor Flitwick stood there, utterly gobsmacked. In all his years, he had never seen this side of Dumbledore.
Ryan's eye twitched. "When Heaven is about to confer a great office on any man..." he thought, the ancient quote from his past life echoing in his mind. Headmaster, this is classic workplace manipulation! How has this toxic corporate culture from decades in the future already infected Hogwarts?
He could almost hear two phantom voices whispering in the air. The first said, "Success comes to those who endure hardship." The second added, "And those who endure hardship will have no end of hardships to endure."
The three of them left the Room of Requirement. Dumbledore and Flitwick both placed monitoring spells on the entrance, hoping to discover who was sneaking into Hogwarts and what treasure they were trying to retrieve. Ryan didn't bother; his magical skills weren't yet at a master level, and any ward he placed would be easily detected by a powerful wizard.
"It is truly a pleasure to have a Seer on one's side," Dumbledore said cheerfully as he prepared to part ways. "Gentlemen, a new day awaits." He and Flitwick left, and Dumbledore returned to his office.
Once there, he picked up the morning's Daily Prophet but didn't read it. "It's strange," he said to the empty room. "I always get the feeling that Ryan is working against some unseen clock. According to him, he spent another night in the library. It's been like that since his first year."
"You're a master Legilimens, Albus," one of the Black portraits suggested gruffly.
"Phineas, I would never use Legilimency on one of my students. I trust them."
...
At the top of the grand staircase, Professor Flitwick said, "Well, Ryan, I must be off to teach my classes. I confess, I am quite curious to find out who has managed to infiltrate Hogwarts."
"Professor, please wait."
"Is there something else?"
"I was just wondering why you suggested I ask the Grey Lady about the Room."
"Ah, Ryan," the Charms master said with a professorial twinkle in his eye, "a lady's secrets should be shared voluntarily. And a true gentleman would never reveal a lady's confidences without her permission."
I'm investigating a security breach, not trying to get the latest gossip! Ryan thought, a witty retort stuck in his throat. He managed a polite, if strained, smile and watched as Professor Flitwick trotted off cheerfully.
He arrived at the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room to find two students talking. "Cedric, Cho. Aren't you two heading to class this morning?"
Cedric turned, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Ryan. It was me who used the Duplicating Charm on your notice. I don't know if that counts as cheating... I've been coming here for the past three days trying to find you..." He trailed off. "Cho said you were never in the common room. I just caught you today."
So that's why he looks so guilty, Ryan thought. Hufflepuffs, aside from their late-night kitchen raids, were notorious rule-followers. Cedric was worried that his actions had caused a problem for him.
"Don't worry about it, Cedric," Ryan said kindly. "No great achievement is the work of one person alone. It's not a bad thing that more people were able to apply."
"And," Cedric added, "thank you for accepting my application." He fiddled with the black-and-gold pin on his robes.
Ryan felt that Cedric was trying to emphasize the point, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why. He concluded that Cedric must have felt guilty for "cheating" and unworthy of the pin. "You shouldn't thank me, Mr. Diggory," Ryan said, his tone firm but warm. "You should thank yourself for your years of hard work and study, and for the brilliant, creative mind in your head."
He then turned to Cedric's companion. "Of course, the club will recruit new members every year. Cho, I read your application. It had a few minor flaws, but it was very promising. I am confident I will see you in the club next year."
"Is that a prophecy, Ryan?" Cho Chang asked with a polite, charming smile. She was well-liked by everyone for her gentle and courteous demeanor.
"It's a blessing," Ryan replied. "Have you seen the Grey Lady, by any chance?"
"Thank you for the blessing, then," Cho said. She pointed down a corridor. "I saw her heading towards the library just a moment ago."
Ryan thanked her and headed off.
"Doesn't Ryan have classes?" Cedric wondered aloud.
"The first period is Divination," Cho explained. "He's never attended. I don't think any of us believe Professor Trelawney could teach him anything. I've got to go, see you, Cedric." She waved and hurried off.
"Goodbye," Cedric said. As he spoke, a slight, knowing smile played on his lips.