Chapter 416: The Scroll of Wisdom
"A diadem?"
Rowena Ravenclaw looked genuinely amused. She turned back to watch Helena, whose face had turned a shade of red that looked as though it could power a steam engine.
"Mother!" Helena snapped, her voice thick with embarrassment.
"I think not," the black cat replied.
"Sean! I should be outside, shouldn't I? Rowena?" Helena huffed, looking increasingly flustered.
"My dear Helena, you've finally gotten one thing right," Rowena said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in teasing her daughter.
With a sharp bang, the heavy door swung open and slammed shut. Helena had stormed out.
The black cat watched the door, a few realizations clicking into place. If Rowena had spent centuries teasing Helena like this, and combined with Helena's notoriously prickly nature...
"This was meant to be a joke shared between two people, wasn't it?"
The cat flicked its tail, pushing the door open to follow her. Rowena's smile faltered for a heartbeat. A moment later, a soft, low sigh echoed through the empty cottage.
Outside, the garden was a riot of color—purple, white, and pink blossoms blending into a vibrant tapestry. Helena stood alone in the center of the clearing, a solitary figure amidst the life of the glade.
A black cat manifested on a copper flowerpot hanging from a vine-covered trellis. It hopped down and padded softly over to Helena's side.
"Does love make one foolish?" the cat asked.
"You should be inside, Sean," Helena said after a long silence.
The cat didn't answer. He simply curled up at her feet. They sat together, watching the streams converge and the phantom snow melt away. A few rays of light caught the tips of the green grass emerging from the soil.
Helena bit her lip, feeling a wave of vulnerability wash over her. She wanted to reach out for help—specifically from the creature beside her. She didn't want its magic or its knowledge; she just wanted the presence. She wanted it not to leave, not to vanish. She wanted it to stay right here, with her. In her ten centuries of existence, she had never felt such a grounding need.
"Professor Dumbledore says it is the greatest magic of all," the cat said, his voice arriving with the colors of the twilight. "But it is so difficult that it often leaves one in a mess."
"You think I'm wrong?" Helena asked.
"I'm on your side," the cat replied after a moment's thought.
Helena fell silent. She stared out at the horizon, where the sunset was bleeding into a deep violet, and the rising mist was beginning to blur the distant trees.
"You're leaving soon, and you still have so many questions unanswered, Sean," she noted.
"I have already found my answers."
The cat spoke with a rare note of confidence. He usually viewed his own knowledge as incomplete, but his eyes were sharp now. "Wisdom trapped inside a crown rather than a book... isn't that a bit ridiculous?"
A sudden gust of wind swept through the glade. Sean's form began to dissolve into the thickening fog. On Helena's robes, a lingering trace of warmth remained.
"You've made a very good friend, my dear Helena," Rowena's voice called out from the distance. The founder was walking through the twilight toward her daughter.
"And you found an excellent successor, Rowena," Helena retorted, her voice still carrying a hint of lingering indignation.
"Well, dear... you know as well as I that wisdom never gave me a single advantage when it came to matters of the heart," Rowena admitted.
"I want you to know: once, I betrayed my own logic, my own moral boundaries, and every principle I held dear, all for the sake of love. I threw it all behind me. I did it then, and I would do it now. I am trying to learn how to love you properly. Will you help me?"
Ravenclaw Tower.
The first light of dawn spilled across the sky-blue curtains of the dormitory. A short distance away, Sean woke up. He reached for his notebook and wrote a single line in bold, dark ink:
[One hour and seven minutes.]
He stared out the window with a look of quiet satisfaction. He knew he didn't need to worry about the two Ravenclaw ladies anymore, and he suspected he had finally uncovered the true nature of Rowena's legacy.
As he had told her: wisdom didn't reside in a piece of jewelry. That was a symbolic decoy. As for her actual books, he had seen many ancient volumes in her studio, but more importantly... he had seen a very specific, very old roll of parchment.
The morning was clear and bright. Sean wrapped his scarf around his neck and walked through the silent corridors. He had risen so early that when he reached the Room of Hope, only the portrait of the Owl Gentleman was awake.
He needed to move quickly; Hermione, Ron, and Justin would be arriving shortly for their morning study session.
"Good morning, Mr. Owl," Sean said.
"Morning... just get inside, clever wizard!" Rav chirped, as blustery as ever.
"I'm allowed to make requests of this room, correct?" Sean asked.
"Obviously! For you, anyway! But do you actually know what it is you need?" the Owl sneered, puffing out his feathered chest.
"I wish to see the parchment you've been guarding," Sean said.
"Ah..."
The Owl's gold pince-nez slipped down his beak. His face took on a look of intense, frantic strain. He clutched the roll of parchment in his claws even tighter. "This parchment? Oh... this old thing? Are you quite sure? It's very old. Very tattered. Not worth much at all..."
He was clearly racking his brain for an excuse, his reluctance palpable.
"Didn't you say I could make a request?" Sean pressed.
"Stupid, clever wizard! You... you..." Rav was becoming increasingly agitated.
"Very well. If you are truly unwilling," Sean said softly. He didn't think his theory was wrong, but the Owl looked genuinely distressed. He decided he could wait.
"I didn't say I was unwilling!" Rav snapped, pecking irritably at the edge of his frame.
"Do you have any idea how long I've been with this thing? Twelve centuries! Twelve! Every wizard who ever found this room wanted to take it, but they all guessed wrong. Even that Riddle boy—they all chased the fancy crown. It has its uses, of course... but now you've found the truth. You're going to take it. I should be happy... Madam Ravenclaw's instructions are finally fulfilled..."
As Rav spoke, a fat, painted tear rolled down his cheek.
Sean felt a pang of guilt. It felt cruel to separate the guardian from his charge after a thousand years. "I'm sorry, Mr. Owl."
"Do you really want it?" Rav asked one last time.
Sean offered a determined nod.
"Then you have to take it as a package deal!" Rav declared.
"With what?" Sean asked, looking at the owl. He scanned the bird's velvet waistcoat and gold glasses. Is the pince-nez an alchemical artifact too?
"Exactly! With—" Rav dragged out the word.
"The glasses?" Sean guessed.
"ME!" Rav shouted.
[End of Chapter 416]
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