The situation wasn't all that complicated.
Buckbeak's appeal was coming up soon, set for the last day of exams.
But word had reached them that the group arriving wouldn't just include members of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures—there'd be an executioner, too.
This news sat uneasily with Harry and his friends, stirring a sense that something was off.
It felt like the Ministry had already made up its mind to execute Buckbeak, without even waiting for the appeal's outcome.
Harry exchanged a glance with Ron as he explained this.
Their eyes mirrored the same worry.
Then Harry turned back to Dylan, his voice steady but heavy. "Hermione doesn't want to believe it, and honestly, neither do we."
"But we think it's likely, so we're preparing for the worst."
He paused, his tone growing resolute. "If they're planning to go through with it, appeal or not, we're going to set Buckbeak free beforehand!"
Dylan listened quietly, setting his closed suitcase by the bed before scooping up his cat, Coal.
He ran his hand from the top of Coal's head to the tip of her tail, stroking her soft fur twice, feeling the warmth of the little creature in his arms.
Then he looked up at Harry, his voice calm. "So? You want my help with this?"
"No, no, no, we know you don't like getting mixed up in stuff like this," Harry said quickly, shaking his head, a touch of nervousness on his face. He rushed to explain, worried Dylan might shut him down before he could finish.
"I was hoping you could help me get my Invisibility Cloak back. Last time I tried sneaking through the secret passage, Snape almost caught me. I had to slam the passage shut, and I left the cloak behind in the tunnel under the One-Eyed Witch statue."
"I reckon Snape might be keeping an eye on it, but if you go, he won't suspect a thing."
Dylan considered it. It didn't sound like too much trouble.
"Hm… alright, I'll check it out for you."
The One-Eyed Witch statue was on the fourth floor.
He'd been meaning to wander around the castle anyway, so grabbing the cloak on his way wouldn't be a big deal.
With a nod, Dylan agreed to Harry's request.
"Really? Thanks so much!" Harry beamed.
That evening, Dylan and Luna made a trip to the Forbidden Forest.
But the young centaur he'd hoped to see wasn't there.
Dylan frowned slightly.
He'd considered heading straight to the centaur colony to investigate, but with Luna there, he decided to put it off for now.
Time passed.
On the Saturday morning before exam week, the sky was just beginning to lighten, the corridors cloaked in a faint mist, the air cool and crisp.
The Grey Lady, as usual, hovered by a window, gazing out at the view, her form softened by the early morning light.
Suddenly, the sound of light footsteps approached from down the hall.
Instinctively, she prepared to drift away, seeking another quiet spot.
She never liked being disturbed.
But then the student spoke. "Miss Helena Ravenclaw, hello."
That name—Helena Ravenclaw—hadn't been spoken to her in who-knows-how-many years.
The words hit her like a spell, freezing her midair.
She turned slowly, almost disbelieving, her expression guarded, even a touch hostile.
But when her eyes landed on the student—more specifically, on what he held—her shock was undeniable. She raised a hand to her mouth, eyes wide with disbelief.
"No need to be wary," Dylan said calmly. "I'm here to return your mother's keepsake, as per her instructions."
In his hands was a yellowed piece of parchment, its edges worn with age.
Resting atop it was Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem.
The diadem's shine had dulled, no longer gleaming as it once had, and it bore odd marks—like a cockroach had melted into it, though the traces were faint, barely noticeable unless you looked closely.
"Mother… it's Mother's…"
Helena Ravenclaw's voice trembled, barely above a whisper.
In that moment, Dylan seemed to fade from her awareness, her entire focus locked on the diadem.
She reached out with her ghostly hand, longing to cradle the crown that held so many memories.
But her fingers passed right through it.
The realization hit her—she was a ghost, no longer able to touch the physical world as she once had.
"Where did you find this diadem?" she asked, her tone confirming her identity as Helena Ravenclaw.
There was still doubt in her voice, mixed with a complex flood of emotions, as if reuniting with something long lost.
Helena knew the diadem had been hidden in the Room of Requirement.
As a ghost, she couldn't enter it alone.
She must have slipped in once, following someone into the Room's storage area, and spotted the diadem there.
But someone who could find the Room of Requirement wouldn't just visit once.
So why did Helena react as if she hadn't seen the diadem in centuries?
"In the Room of Requirement, my lady," Dylan replied, glancing around the empty corridor. Morning light spilled through the windows, casting dappled shadows on the floor, the silence broken only by the sound of his own breathing.
"Shall we continue this in the secret chamber left by Rowena Ravenclaw? There's a letter from her for you there."
Truth be told, he didn't need to say much.
Helena's attention was already fixed on the parchment.
In her ghostly state, she couldn't touch it, only stare.
At Dylan's words, she nodded, her form flickering and vanishing into the ceiling.
"I'll meet you at the Room of Requirement," her voice echoed faintly, tinged with urgency.
Dylan shook his head with a small smile, carefully tucking the diadem and parchment into his bag before heading to the eighth floor.
He wasn't ready to let Helena confront Rowena's memory just yet. Bringing her to the chamber first would let him gauge her reaction.
Taking her away outright might draw the school's attention.
After all, Helena wasn't like Peeves—her absence would be noticed.
When Dylan reached the eighth floor, he stopped opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by trolls.
He paced back and forth three times.
Slowly, intricate patterns began to form on the wall, weaving together into a doorway unlike the usual Room of Requirement's entrance, radiating an ancient, mysterious aura.
"This is…"
Helena's form emerged from the wall, her eyes wide with awe and curiosity as she gazed at the unique portal.
"This is the secret chamber left by Rowena Ravenclaw, the wisest of the four founders," Dylan said, gesturing invitingly. "After you."
Helena hesitated, her gaze lingering on the doorway, but her longing won out. She floated forward.
Stepping through, the chamber wasn't the grand, opulent space one might expect. Instead, it was elegant yet simple.
Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with rows of books, some with yellowed, curling pages.
Worktables were scattered about, littered with manuscripts covered in dense, meticulous handwriting, evidence of their owner's dedication.
The overwhelming familiarity hit Helena like a wave—this was undoubtedly her mother's chamber.
She drifted slowly to a corner where a wooden desk stood, topped with blank parchment.
She paused by the chair, staring at the desk with a look of deep nostalgia.
Near the blank parchment was a pen holder with several quills, one still glistening with fresh ink, as if its owner had only stepped away moments ago.
It was as if Rowena Ravenclaw might return at any moment to continue writing her brilliant thoughts.
"This letter was left here," Dylan said, gently placing the parchment on the desk, atop the blank sheet.
Helena nodded, floating closer, her attention wholly absorbed by the words on the page.
Though she couldn't touch it, she instinctively mimed sitting in the chair, hovering there as she read, lost in the letter's contents.
Dylan didn't interrupt this silent reunion between mother and daughter across centuries. He moved to a corner, opening a cabinet.
Inside were several of Rowena's robes, most decayed beyond recognition.
Only a few, enchanted with magic, remained intact, though their magical aura was faint, nearly faded.
Dylan took one of the preserved robes and drew his wand, pointing it at an empty bottle on the desk.
With a flash of light, the bottle stretched and reshaped into a wooden mannequin.
He carefully draped the robe over it, then retrieved the diadem from his bag, placing it gently on the mannequin's head.
Stepping back, he studied his work, then began refining the mannequin's face with his wand.
Recalling Rowena Ravenclaw's appearance, he conjured flowing hair that fell in natural waves.
He adjusted the brows, the nose, striving to match the image in his memory.
"Mother's eyes weren't that large," Helena said suddenly, her voice calm but certain.
She'd finished reading the letter and was now hovering behind him.
"But they were deep… you captured that well. When she looked at you, it felt like she could see every thought in your mind."
Dylan blinked, about to respond, but Helena continued.
"It wasn't Legilimency—Mother didn't care for that magic. Slytherin was the one who favored it. It was a kind of clarity, like she could see through anything in the world."
Yet, Rowena hadn't seen through her own daughter.
Dylan stayed quiet, making adjustments to the mannequin under Helena's occasional guidance.
She pointed out that her mother's lips should curve more softly, her cheekbones needed sharper lines, every detail meticulously corrected.
Hogwarts already had a statue of Rowena in the Ravenclaw common room.
But this one, crafted under Helena's watchful eye, would surely be more lifelike.
Unless, of course, Rowena herself had carved the other.
When the final touch was complete, Helena stared at the mannequin in silence.
The diadem, though its magic had faded, still carried a regal air.
Paired with the ancient robe and Rowena's likeness, it was as if the great witch stood before them.
After a long moment, Helena turned to Dylan.
"I don't know how you cleansed the dark magic from the diadem, but thank you. For letting me see it as it was meant to be, and for my mother's letter."
Her usual cool, distant demeanor had returned, but the lingering sadness in her eyes was gone, replaced by a quiet peace, as if a great weight had been lifted.
"I'm sorry, though… the world has changed so much, and I have nothing to offer you in return."
"But I'm leaving soon. No matter what house you're in, you found my mother's chamber, so you must have enough curiosity. Perhaps you'd like to read this letter?"
"You're leaving?" Dylan asked, surprised.
"Yes, leaving," Helena said with a faint smile, one of relief and a hint of hope for what lay ahead.
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