To couch surrender in such elegant terms—Wayne instantly felt newfound respect for the bronze eagle door knocker.
Truly a creation worthy of Ravenclaw. So very wise...
Waving at the still-playing-dead door knocker, he was about to enter when he suddenly asked:
"What was the answer to that earlier question?"
After a pause, the bronze eagle finally revealed: "Pi (π)"
Wayne's eyebrows rose as he silently considered this before nodding.
The door knocker hadn't been deceiving him—pi perfectly matched the description.
The eternal spinning without beginning or end refers to pi being an infinite, non-repeating decimal. "The wise seek me, the foolish ignore me" refers to the widespread application of pi, not just in Muggle society but also in wizarding Astronomy or astrology.
There's a saying that understanding pi means grasping a fundamental truth.
And the final line, "I am formless, yet shape all things," signifies that pi is a mathematical concept, abstract in nature, yet it influences the design of countless objects, transforming the intangible into the tangible.
Each clue corresponds perfectly, forming an impeccable answer.
"Did you come up with this question?" Wayne asked curiously. No matter how he looked at it, this eagle-shaped bronze knocker didn't seem as clever as him—how could it devise such an intricate riddle?
"No, it was my creator," the knocker replied. "Rowena Ravenclaw's wisdom remains awe-inspiring even a millennium later."
Wayne felt much better. Losing to Ravenclaw was no disgrace, but losing to a door handle would have bruised his pride.
...
Passing through the passage, Wayne finally arrived at the Ravenclaw Common Room. To his surprise, even in the dead of night, someone was still inside.
"Wayne, you actually made it?"
Seeing the boy appear suddenly, Cho, who had been nodding off, instantly perked up. She rushed to his side, gazing at him with delight.
"We agreed you'd rest normally and not wait for me. Why are you still in the Common Room?" Wayne gently kissed the girl's forehead and spoke softly.
Cho hugged him, exhaling lazily. "I was just curious, wanted to see if you could pass the test. By the way, what question did the knocker ask?"
Wayne repeated the riddle, and Cho pondered for a long while but still couldn't figure it out.
When Wayne revealed the answer was pi and explained each part, she finally understood, looking at him with admiration. "You're amazing, solving such a difficult question."
Wayne accepted the praise without batting an eye. "Of course. I'm quite brilliant."
Getting others to answer—that was wisdom in itself.
"Mhm!" Cho rewarded him with a loving kiss.
"Alright, go get some rest now." Seeing the girl could barely keep her eyes open, Wayne added, "It's almost 2 a.m., and we have classes tomorrow."
Cho nodded obediently. Before leaving, she said, "The Grey Lady's whereabouts are unknown, but she returns every night to gaze at Ravenclaw's statue for a while. That's what Marietta told me."
"Got it. If she doesn't come back soon, I'll try again tomorrow."
"Okay, I'll head to bed then."
Cho waved and disappeared into the girls' dormitory corridor, leaving him alone in the Common Room.
Wayne surveyed the layout and decor.
This was the last House Common Room he'd visited, and it bore the same strong signature of its founders.
The Ravenclaw Common Room was a spacious, circular chamber with a light blue palette, featuring floor-to-ceiling windows draped in blue and bronze silk curtains. In daylight, the room must be bathed in brilliant natural light.
The space exuded a fresh, elegant comfort—far preferable to Slytherin's chill or Gryffindor's solemn grandeur. Still, Wayne thought it couldn't quite match Hufflepuff's charm.
The Hufflepuff common room was perpetually warm as spring, with the sparse sunlight lazily casting a homely feel that made young witches and wizards relax and unconsciously drift towards sleep.
Wayne often saw little badgers dozing off on the sofas, sleeping even more soundly than in their beds.
Beyond that, what struck him most about this common room was the sheer number of books—so very, very many.
While Hufflepuff's walls were adorned with plants, Ravenclaw's were lined with bookshelves, crammed full of tomes.
Even beside the scattered single armchairs, stacks upon stacks of books were piled high.
The most incongruous sight was the two projection devices he had crafted, awkwardly wedged between heaps of books.
Since this was a tower, Ravenclaw's common room was considerably smaller, though it was split into two levels, providing ample space for movement.
Wayne approached the statue of Ravenclaw.
The founder was clad in elaborate robes, a hood draped over her head, a wand in her left hand and a book cradled in her right.
Upon her head rested a magnificent diadem, identical to the one in Wayne's possession—a replica made in remembrance of the lost relic.
Though it was merely a statue, Wayne could tell that Ravenclaw must have been a stunning beauty in her time, with fair skin and striking features.
No wonder the Sorting Hat had praised her so lavishly, even wistfully remarking that it wished it had been Ravenclaw's hat instead.
Yet... Wayne couldn't shake the feeling that the statue seemed oddly familiar—not in appearance, but in demeanour.
"You're not a student of this house."
Just as Wayne stood lost in thought before the statue, a ghost descended from the starry ceiling, her voice cool and detached.
Wayne turned to look at her. She was a young beauty with waist-length hair, her ample figure barely concealed by her voluminous cloak. Yet the haughty defiance etched across her face was enough to make anyone wary.
This was his first time meeting the ghost of Ravenclaw House. She always seemed to be a solitary figure, never even attending the start-of-term feast or Halloween banquet.
"I'm Wayne Lawrence from Hufflepuff," Wayne said.
The Grey Lady examined him before replying, "I know of you. Hufflepuff's prodigy. The students often mention you and play the games you've created."
"Oh yes, and quite the charmer with the girls too."
That last remark carried deep disdain.
"Since you know me, this makes things much easier," Wayne said cheerfully, showing no trace of irritation at the sarcasm. "I came specifically to find you, Grey Lady."
"Me?" The Grey Lady frowned slightly. "What do you want?"
"How about we discuss Ravenclaw's Diadem?"
The Grey Lady's lips curled into a cold smile. "Another greedy little wizard," she said scornfully. "You're not the first. Generation after generation of students have tried to extract the diadem's location from me, and all have failed. You'll be no exception."
As she spoke, she began to drift away.
But Wayne's next words froze her spectral form mid-movement.
"Not necessarily. If I recall correctly, over fifty years ago, a Slytherin student obtained quite a bit of information from you."
The Grey Lady whirled around. Ghosts couldn't blush, but her translucent cheeks seemed to blur. "Who are you? How do you know this? Are you one of his lackeys?"
"Grey Lady, slandering people is terribly rude behaviour," Wayne said disapprovingly. "With Tom's looks, I wouldn't take him as a lackey even if he begged."
"As for the diadem," Wayne continued, producing Ravenclaw's Diadem, "I already have it."
At the sight of the diadem, the Grey Lady grew even more agitated. Silvery droplets slid down her cheeks before vanishing, making Wayne marvel.
So ghosts could cry after all?
"Did you retrieve it from him?" the Grey Lady asked excitedly. "No, that can't be. The students say he's become a very powerful Dark Wizard now. You couldn't possibly have managed it. Unless... you stole it? That seems more likely. Regardless, having it returned is what matters."
The Grey Lady reached to touch the diadem, but her slender fingers passed right through, leaving Wayne with an icy sensation. So this was what being ghosted felt like?
Wayne indulged the whimsical thought for a moment before tucking the diadem away again.
The Grey Lady froze, then became furious. "You mean to keep it for yourself, too? It belongs to Ravenclaw! Take down that counterfeit and restore the true diadem to its place!"
"You're mistaken. It once belonged to Ravenclaw," Wayne said with a light chuckle. "But now, the diadem belongs solely to me. After it was stolen, ownership transferred—something you should understand better than anyone, Grey Lady."
"Wait." The young man paused. "Perhaps in this moment, it would be more appropriate to call you Helena?"
The Grey Lady—no, Helena—stared at him in shock.
"You... you... How could you possibly know that?"
Wayne sighed. "Are you the Encyclopedia of Questions? Must you interrogate me about everything?"
"That's not the point right now. Do you know what happened to Ravenclaw's Diadem?"
Helena froze. "Happened? Aren't you just coveting my mother's wisdom?"
Since her identity had been exposed, Helena no longer concealed herself, though she didn't understand Wayne's implication.
"No, it's far worse than that. Voldemort—oh, that's Tom, the one who sweet-talked you—turned the diadem into a Horcrux."
Helena's eyes widened.
"A Horcrux? What's that?"
Wayne: "..."
"No wonder you think yourself foolish," Wayne said, looking at her with exasperation. "As Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter, you don't even know what a Horcrux is?"
"So what is it, then?"
Helena flushed with anger. "Don't just throw out a name and expect it to frighten me!"
Seeing the sheer innocence and stupidity in the ghost's eyes, Wayne finally relented and explained the basics of Horcruxes.
By the time he finished, Helena was trembling all over.
"How dare he! How dare he defile my mother's diadem with Dark Magic!" The ghost's voice turned shrill. "Lawrence, kill him for me! If you kill him, the diadem is yours!"
"Do you have the power to command me now?" Wayne sneered. "Whether you admit it or not, the diadem is already my property."
Helena scoffed, an idea forming. "Then I'll go to Dumbledore and have him retrieve it."
The young man gestured dismissively. "Go ahead. Do you think he doesn't know it's in my possession? I spoke with him just this morning, and even he can't do anything about it."
"Though, if you really go, I'll leave your mother's diadem in a lavatory."
"You wouldn't dare!"
Helena was both shocked and furious, but seeing the boy's unshakable composure, she didn't dare test him.
In the end, she could only say weakly, "What do you want? Did you seek me out just to gloat about taking the diadem?"
"Of course not." Wayne smiled faintly. "I hold great respect for the daughter of a founder. I'd never stoop to such provocation."
"Helena, I've had the diadem for some time now, but its effects fall far short of the legends."
"As its former keeper, is there a method I'm missing, or were its powers exaggerated?"
Seeing Wayne needed her, Helena perked up, regaining her earlier haughty demeanour. "Why should I tell you?"
"Because I can destroy the Horcrux without damaging the diadem itself."
Wayne's voice turned low. "Lady Helena, you wouldn't want your mother defiled, would you?"
"Tell me its secrets, and I'll help you purge the soul fragment."
Helena spluttered, "It's defiling my mother's relic—phrase it properly!"
"Same difference." Wayne waved a hand, suddenly yawning. "It's getting late. Make your decision."
Another silence followed as Helena seemed to deliberate. After much hesitation, she finally said:
"Actually... I never used the diadem."
"What?" Wayne stared at her incredulously. "You're joking, right?"
"It's true."
Helena completely gave up struggling. As she spoke, she lifted one side of her cloak, revealing a long scar on her white chest surrounded by silvery bloodstains.
Wayne blinked.
That scar is huge... damn, that blood is pale.
One could tell Ravenclaw had certainly never deprived her daughter—the nutrition had clearly been excellent.
"I stole the diadem and fled to Albania, terrified the entire journey. I never had the chance to use it."
"The Bloody Baron pursued me swiftly. In his rage, he killed me... then took his own life."
"From beginning to end, I never once wore the diadem upon my head."
Recounting this past, Helena still wore an expression of anguish.
She had betrayed her mother for greater wisdom, yet died by the Baron's blade without ever getting to try.
"So... you know nothing?" Wayne took a deep breath, feeling his composure cracking.
After all this effort, to receive such an answer.
"No, of course I know." Helena stubbornly countered. "I may not understand the diadem's precise power, but I know it couldn't possibly be as mundane as you claim."
"Mother often wore it—when designing school corridors, secret passages, or deciding curricula. Whenever important decisions arose, she would don the diadem."
Wayne pondered. "Meaning I haven't found the correct method of use?"
"Undoubtedly." Helena's reply held absolute conviction before softening. "Lawrence, I've told you everything I know. Now honour our agreement—destroy that vile soul."
"It's already done." Wayne waved dismissively, heading for the door. "The diadem is pure now."
Helena floated after him. "You're not lying?"
"No. Ask Dumbledore if you doubt me."
The ghost found herself viewing the boy more favourably.
"Oh—"
Wayne paused at the threshold, hand on the door, then turned back.
"One final question."
"Ask."
"Your mother was Ravenclaw... so who was your father?"