The entirety of Ravenclaw House was buzzing with triumphant energy after the match. The unexpected, stellar debut performances of Allen Harris and Cho Chang had delivered a resounding victory. Their new Quidditch recruits were proving so formidable that even the seasoned Slytherins, watching from the stands, were visibly surprised.
As champions of the past few years, Slytherin had always focused solely on Gryffindor as their primary threat, regarding the seemingly meek Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff teams—with the singular exception of Cedric Diggory—as negligible opposition.
Now, having watched Harry Potter, the 'youngest Seeker in a century,' get immediately overshadowed by Ravenclaw's performance, Gryffindor was forced to divert significant attention from their main rivalry with Slytherin and begin seriously analyzing Ravenclaw's new tactics.
The atmosphere among the Hogwarts students was more vibrant and engaged than ever. The new Quidditch season, which everyone sensed would no longer be a Slytherin monopoly, captured the imagination of the entire school. Even many Muggle-born students, initially dubious about the sport's somewhat convoluted rules, were now keenly interested.
The Gryffindors, confident in Harry's natural flying skill, remained optimistic he would eventually surpass Allen. Conversely, the Slytherins, led by the perpetually sneering Draco Malfoy, kept up a relentless campaign of public criticism and mockery, hoping to demoralize Harry before his first match.
Ravenclaw Captain Roger Davies, now absolutely certain of winning the championship, had transformed from a focused sportsman into a near-fanatic, rivaling the obsessive dedication of Gryffindor's Oliver Wood.
He had already dedicated three comprehensive notebooks to recording the tactics, strengths, and weaknesses of the other three teams, developing targeted, complex strategies for every upcoming match.
The day after Allen's spectacular game, the Great Hall was still thick with the aroma of grilled sausages and the relentless drone of Quidditch analysis. Allen was methodically enjoying his breakfast.
"Allen, do you have a minute to talk?" Harry Potter's slightly strained voice sounded from not far behind him.
Allen turned his head with a sigh, noting the famous little wizard walking directly toward him before he could even reply. He swiftly forked the last piece of sausage from his plate, popped it into his mouth, and swallowed. He noticed Hermione looking slightly flustered as she helped Harry navigate through the crowded tables.
Allen glanced at the staff table, softening his expression as he saw Dumbledore watching the interaction with a gentle smile. "Of course, Harry. But it looks like you haven't had your breakfast yet."
"I've lost my appetite, Allen." Harry looked uneasy, clearly seeking advice from the slightly older, seemingly unflappable student. "Allen, how did you manage to perform so brilliantly in your very first match?"
"Trust me, Harry, once you're up there, all those worries cease to matter," Allen said, offering a conspiratorial wink and imitating Dumbledore's knowing air. "I heard Miss Granger gave you a little lesson on your father's legacy."
"Yeah, she did." Ron Weasley's freckled face was full of genuine astonishment. "To be honest, Harry, it's bizarre. Hermione often knows more about your own life than you do."
"Everyone knows more about me than I do…" Harry lamented with a sigh. His entire life and family history seemed to be a series of revelations delivered by others.
"You should eat something instead of just talking about it." Hermione finally arrived, placing Harry's plate in front of him. She darted a quick glance at Allen, who was sitting next to Harry, before turning back to retrieve a glass of pumpkin juice. As she did, her thick, bushy hair inadvertently brushed against Allen's face.
Ron leaned forward, lowering his voice to a clumsy whisper toward Allen. "Allen, sorry about Hermione. She's a bit competitive, you know. She keeps coming in second in points to you, and it drives her crazy…"
Allen rubbed his eye where the hair had tickled him and looked at the Know-it-all with quiet amusement. He thought her fiercely competitive expression, combined with her slightly prominent front teeth, made her look surprisingly like an adorable, determined little beaver.
"We'll protect you, Princess Harley." The Weasley twins bounded over. Fred pointed a theatrical finger at Harry. "George and I, the Beaters, are here to ensure you don't get too horribly mangled, but we can't promise anything. It's a savage game."
"Nobody's ever died exactly," George shrugged dramatically. "But people occasionally vanish… only to reappear a month or two later, slightly scrambled."
"Get lost!" Ron shooed his older brothers away impatiently, then looked back at Harry. "They're just trying to psych you out. It's a genuinely fun sport, and you're going to be brilliant."
"Good luck today, Potter," came a chilling, sneering voice from behind them. "If you're arrogant enough to go seeking adventures with a Mountain Troll, I suppose you must believe Quidditch will be a trivial task, even against Slytherin. If only you had faced the troll that day instead of Harris…"
Severus Snape, the Potions Master and Head of Slytherin, swept past their table like a silent, oversized bat. He barely finished his sarcastic remark before his eyes flickered sharply between Allen and the Gryffindors. Allen noticed the Professor was walking with a distinct, pained limp as he glided away from the Great Hall.
Sigh, Allen thought internally. My relationship with the Professor had just started to improve marginally, but my association with Harry Potter is clearly reigniting his grudge against me.
"What's wrong with his leg?" Harry asked in genuine surprise, having been too preoccupied with Snape's cruel words to notice the injury.
Edward, who had finished his meal, replied casually, "Didn't you see? He's been limping for days. I noticed it in class right after Halloween."
"I can't believe he didn't move when he was lecturing us!" Ron suddenly exclaimed, struck by a powerful realization. "He didn't even dock Fogg's points when he was secretly helping Neville! I thought he was finally going soft…"
Harry glanced at the surrounding Ravenclaws, noting that attention was drifting toward Ron's loud voice. He leaned closer to Hermione. "I think Snape used the troll as a distraction to sneak through the room guarded by Cerberus that night, but he got bitten and that's why he's limping…" Harry whispered conspiratorially.
"Professor Snape!" Hermione hissed quietly at Harry, her face a mixture of shock and disbelief. "And why would he provoke Cerberus? Its saliva could be used to soothe his wound… ah… so he's still limping."
Harry continued to mutter, lost in his own deduction. "Hagrid took something from Gringotts and said it was top secret and concerned Hogwarts, so Snape must be trying to steal that thing, the one Cerberus is guarding."
Allen watched, growing increasingly awkward, as the two little lions spoke in what they thought were hushed tones, yet their dramatic theories were perfectly audible. He felt too embarrassed to even clear his throat to interrupt them.
Despite the chaos, Harry's spirits seemed to lift slightly, and the Gryffindor duo continued to eat their breakfast, seated at the Ravenclaw table.
Around eleven o'clock, the Quidditch pitch was a deafening roar of noise, filled with every student and most of the staff.
Harry Potter and the Gryffindor team entered the waiting room.
Captain Oliver Wood looked down at his visibly nervous first-year Seeker. "You scared, Harry?"
Harry nodded honestly to his captain. "A bit."
"That's perfectly normal. I felt the same before my debut match."
"So, what happens after you get up there?"
"I don't remember," Oliver Wood stated matter-of-factly. "Two minutes into that match, I was hit in the back of the head by a Bludger and spent a week in Madam Pomfrey's infirmary."
Harry remained silent, swallowing hard.
In the stands, Ron and Hermione climbed to the top row, joining Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom as a dedicated cheering squad.
To surprise Harry, they used an old bedsheet, previously stained by Ron's rat Scabbers, to create a massive banner that read: "POTTER WILL WIN!" The design featured a large, roaring Gryffindor lion, skillfully drawn by the artistic Dean Thomas. Hermione then cast a clever charm that made the painted text shimmer in changing colours.
Edward, having witnessed the Gryffindors' creative process, had shamelessly copied the idea and improved it with more sophisticated Charms for the Ravenclaw match, leading some Slytherins to openly mock the Gryffindors for their inferior copying skills.
Allen watched, slightly amused, as the Gryffindors' "original" banner was mistaken for a pirate flag by a few Hufflepuff students. Then, his attention snapped back to his primary objective: this was the perfect opportunity. With the entire castle distracted, he could finally return to the Rowena Ravenclaw statue.
Without hesitation, Allen excused himself, claiming an urgent need for the lavatory, and slipped out of the stands. He cast his Disillusionment Charm and sprinted toward Ravenclaw Tower.
Indeed, the Ravenclaw Common Room was utterly deserted. Allen repeated his necessary procedure: moving the chair, leaping up, and placing the Diadem—now a purified, albeit inert, piece of jewelry—on Rowena Ravenclaw's head.
At the same time, Allen retrieved the shimmering Goddess of Luck Orb from his system inventory with his other hand. Ancient, almost forgotten magical runes, obscure and visually complex compared to modern Charms, began to pour from Allen's mouth. The Orb slowly began to emit a concentrated, fluorescent light, which transformed into a focused beam. Allen directed this beam straight at the Diadem.
An intense anomaly occurred.
The crown began a slow, mesmerizing transformation, peeling away its old, tarnished layer from the center outwards, like a snake shedding its skin. It returned to its original, majestic form: the shape of a regal eagle with powerful, outstretched wings. Its feathers were composed of countless sparkling diamonds, each gem having an artistic, deliberate curvature.
A massive, deep blue gemstone—a sapphire of impossible depth—was set at the eagle's heart, its sharp facets reflecting blinding light. Beneath the central gem, two smaller, perfectly cut round and teardrop-shaped sapphires dangled.
Inscribed flawlessly on the base of the crown, now glowing with internal power, was the famous Ravenclaw motto: "Superior intelligence is humanity's greatest treasure."
"We did it!" Allen whispered excitedly, the powerful energy radiating from the restored artifact washing over him.
The heavy marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw elegantly turned to one side, revealing a narrow, circular passage.
The passageway was draped with luxurious velvet tapestries, backed with protected linen. The patterns embroidered on the cloth were done in eight vibrant colours: red, yellow, black, purple, blue, gold, silver, and white. While the colour palette was simple, the artistry was stunningly powerful.
The drawings depicted a tall, dark-haired witch, primarily dressed in blue—whom Allen correctly identified as Rowena Ravenclaw herself. Other scenes showed her studying, playing, and hunting alongside a shorter, blonde wizard.
Later panels depicted the founding of Hogwarts and the governance of the school alongside the other three founders. Their figures were highly detailed, and Allen noted, with a slight internal grin, that the founders of his House appeared to be physically taller and more imposing than even Godric Gryffindor in the tapestry.
CRASH!
A loud, disconcerting bang sounded as the statue abruptly swung back to its original position. A pale blue light immediately illuminated the passage—a hidden wall lamp, protected by a charm, now appeared every ten feet up the wall.
Allen proceeded, rounding three tight corners before arriving at a magnificent bronze door. Two intricate eagles were carved between the doors, facing each other, and concentric circles of wave-like patterns adorned the door's perimeter. Above the entrance, two enormous bronze door knockers sat silently.
The door instantly reminded Allen of the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room. He removed his dragonhide protective gloves—which he usually only wore for Herbology—wrapped them around his left hand, gripping his wand tightly in his right, ready to cast a universal counter-spell at any moment.
He took a deep breath, reached out, and pulled the bronze doorknocker, striking the door three times.
The heavy, metallic sound of the door knock was like a resonant bell tolling through the hidden corridor, instantly transporting Allen back a thousand years. An ancient, powerful aura enveloped him.
The eyes of the two carved eagles glowed with a deep, mesmerizing blue light, merging to form a shimmering, translucent curtain bearing Ravenclaw's famous motto.