Late that night, Arthur arrived at the Ravenclaw common room.
It was utterly silent inside—Ravenclaw students were all model pupils, and at this hour, every one of them was asleep.
Only a ghost stood quietly in the middle of the hall, gazing at the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw.
Hearing footsteps behind her, the ghost turned around, revealing her face.
She was the Ravenclaw ghost—the Grey Lady.
But she also had another name: Helena Ravenclaw.
She was the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the four founders of Hogwarts.
In her youth, Helena had longed to surpass her brilliant mother.
So she stole Ravenclaw's diadem—the crown that symbolized wisdom—and hid it inside a hollow tree deep within the Albanian Forest.
Years later, when Rowena fell gravely ill and wished to see her daughter one last time, she sent the Bloody Baron, who had adored Helena in his youth, to bring her home.
But when the Baron found her, Helena refused him again and again.
Finally, in a fit of rage, the Baron lost control and killed her.
When he realized what he'd done, grief and remorse consumed him. Loving her as he did, he turned the same knife on himself.
To become a ghost, one must meet two conditions: to be a wizard, and to fear death—to lack the courage to "move on."
Both Helena and the Baron feared the end, so their souls refused to pass beyond the veil, returning instead to the place they loved most—
Hogwarts.
Yet Arthur was far more intrigued by that phrase—"move on."
What exactly did it mean?
Was it the road to the underworld?
If one refused to walk it, could one remain in the world as a spirit?
It reminded him of the "hungry ghosts" of the East—souls bound by obsession, unable to cross the river of death.
Except these Western ghosts didn't seem to dissipate over time; they simply lingered.
"You don't look like a Ravenclaw student. How did you get in here?" the Grey Lady asked when she saw Arthur.
Before he could answer, she suddenly remembered something.
"Oh, I recall now. I heard a while back that a young witch smashed the bronze eagle knocker—so now all it takes is a password to enter."
Her words made Arthur's expression stiffen—because that "young witch" happened to be his fiancée.
Luckily, not many people knew Ranni was engaged to him.
Well… most of his friends and the Hogwarts professors did.
But at least it wasn't common knowledge. Otherwise, Ravenclaw might've hung a sign on the door reading:
"No entry for the Arthur family."
"So, what brings you to Ravenclaw at this hour?" the Grey Lady asked curiously.
A student from another House, wandering into Ravenclaw in the middle of the night—was he here to steal something?
Everyone knew Ravenclaw had the highest number of girls among the four Houses.
Boys from other Houses getting "curious" wasn't unheard of.
"I came to test a theory," Arthur replied.
Ignoring her puzzled expression, he walked up to the statue beside the bookshelf and took out a shining object—
Ravenclaw's Diadem.
He had retrieved it last time from the Room of Requirement.
Among all Horcruxes, this one was perhaps the least malevolent.
Voldemort had once tricked the Grey Lady into revealing where the diadem was hidden, then turned it into his fifth Horcrux before concealing it in the Room of Requirement.
He had placed no strong enchantments on it, believing himself the room's only discoverer.
Now, years later, Arthur had found it again.
As someone capable of crafting Soul Crystals, extracting the fragment of Voldemort's soul had been easy for him.
He hadn't destroyed it—just stored it elsewhere for now.
Previously, Arthur had speculated that each of Hogwarts' four founders had left behind a legacy within the castle.
Tonight, he had come to prove it.
"That's… Ravenclaw's Diadem?!" The Grey Lady's eyes widened in shock.
"It was supposed to have been taken by Tom Riddle—"
Her words trailed off as she stared at the gem glimmering under moonlight, untouched by corruption.
Arthur said nothing. He murmured a Levitation Charm on his shoes and rose until he was eye level with the statue.
Then, gently, he placed the diadem atop its head.
In that instant, it was as if the statue came alive.
"At last… my descendants have awakened me," it spoke slowly.
"Mother?" whispered the Grey Lady—no, Helena.
She could hardly believe what she was seeing.
"You are Helena? I never thought I'd see your ghostly form," said the statue kindly. "It seems the Baron failed to bring you home after all."
"I am not Rowena herself," the statue continued, "but one she created—imbued with her memories and wisdom. She crafted me to hold her legacy, and… because she could not let go of her daughter."
"So, what exactly is this 'legacy'?" Arthur asked, intrigued.
"Oh? And you are the one who awakened me, little wizard?"
He nodded.
"The legacy… is me," said the statue. "Rowena entrusted all her knowledge to my keeping. Any witch or wizard clever enough to answer the bronze eagle's riddle may seek my counsel, and I shall offer them guidance. The one who awakens me, however, is exempt from this test."
That explanation surprised Arthur, though it made perfect sense.
"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure"—that was Ravenclaw's creed.
Her House welcomed any who valued intelligence and the pursuit of knowledge—
even if they were from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin.
…There was just one problem.
The bronze eagle had been blown to pieces by Ranni.
Arthur and Helena exchanged a look, both glancing toward the doorway.
The statue followed their gaze, frowning slightly.
"Hmm? Why does the common room door look different? Where's the bronze eagle knocker?"
Arthur coughed awkwardly and decided to let Helena explain that part.
When she finished, the statue sighed softly.
"Alas, I suppose I shall have to pose the riddles myself now."
Awakened for only a few minutes, and already with new duties.
"Oh yes," she added, "as thanks for awakening me, this belongs to you."
She removed the diadem and handed it back to Arthur.
"Are you sure? Won't that affect you?" he asked.
"It won't. I only needed it to awaken—its presence is no longer required."
"Thank you. By the way… what should I call you?"
"Call me Rona," she said after a moment's thought—a diminutive of Rowena, fittingly enough.
Arthur suspected Ravenclaw had copied half her own mind into this creation; speaking with Rona felt like conversing with a living person.
"Very well, Lady Rona. I have one request—please keep my discovery of the diadem secret."
"Oh? Why hide it?"
"This diadem is precious beyond measure, even in her own age. If word spreads, it may draw unwanted attention."
What he didn't say was that he feared Voldemort might realize one of his Horcruxes was missing.
Rona and Helena nodded, understanding.
"Then I'll tell others that Helena happened to awaken me by accident," Rona suggested.
Arthur agreed, then turned toward the corner of the room.
"And you, miss behind the sofa—could I ask the same of you?"
He had sensed her presence long ago, though she carried no hostility.
The figure stepped out from the shadows—a beautiful girl with long, curly brown hair.
"Penelope?" Helena recognized her instantly.
"Good evening, Lady Grey. I couldn't sleep and went for a walk. I didn't mean to overhear."
Penelope greeted Helena politely, then looked nervously at Arthur.
For some reason, she seemed afraid of him.
"So, about my request—will you keep this a secret?" he asked.
Penelope nodded rapidly.
Her anxious obedience made Arthur blink in confusion.
"You… know who I am?"
"Of course! When Professor McGonagall invited you to join the Transfiguration Club last year, half of Ravenclaw was envious!"
He nodded, understanding now.
But Penelope went on, "And besides, you're Ranni's—mmph!"
Arthur quickly covered her mouth, giving her a warning look.
The others didn't know Ranni was the one who blew up the bronze eagle.
No need to make things awkward.
Penelope blinked, then caught his meaning and nodded.
He released her hand—ah, how nice it was dealing with clever people.
"As an exchange," she said softly, "could I borrow the diadem sometime?"
Arthur considered, then nodded. "All right. If you ever need it, come find me."
Rona and Helena, though they didn't catch every word, exchanged knowing smiles.
Young people always had their little secrets.
The four of them chatted long into the night—mostly Helena telling Rona about the changes at Hogwarts, and about her own life and regrets.
Eventually, another listener joined them: Luna, who had apparently felt something stirring and wandered down in her pajamas.
By the end of the conversation, Helena had finally made peace with her past—and decided to reclaim her true name.
While things went peacefully for Arthur, life wasn't so easy for Harry.
He had once again heard those strange whispers—and then encountered the Malfoy family's house-elf, Dobby.
From Dobby, he learned that it had been the elf's doing that prevented him from entering Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at the start of term.
The rogue Bludger that nearly killed him earlier that day? Also Dobby's work.
All of it, Dobby insisted, was to keep Harry away from Hogwarts.
Harry nearly laughed in disbelief.
If Arthur hadn't saved him, that Bludger might've killed him—and now Dobby was saying it was for his own good?
He was indeed injured—but he certainly hadn't left Hogwarts!
When Harry demanded to know why Dobby was so desperate to protect him, the elf stammered and finally whispered,
"History… is about to repeat itself."
Those words made Harry's blood run cold.
The Chamber of Secrets…
The last time it opened, something terrible had happened.
And now it was happening again?
Before Harry could ask more, footsteps echoed outside the infirmary.
Dobby heard them too. With a snap of his fingers, he vanished.
Harry quickly lay back down, pretending to sleep, as the door opened—
and he heard the quiet voices of Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall…
Professor McGonagall said gravely, "I believe he's been petrified. Look—perhaps he managed to take a picture of the attacker."
Then Harry heard a faint pop in the distance.
McGonagall's voice came again, tense and worried. "What does this mean, Albus?"
Dumbledore's tone was heavy. "It means, Minerva, that our students are in grave danger."
"What should I tell the staff?" she asked quietly.
"The truth," Dumbledore replied. "Tell them that Hogwarts is no longer safe. The Chamber of Secrets has indeed been opened—just as we feared."
When the professors left, Harry turned around and saw the latest victim of petrification.
It was Colin Creevey, his little fan.
Colin's camera lay nearby, the casing cracked and the lens shattered.
The next morning, with his bones fully regrown, Harry was discharged from the infirmary.
He immediately gathered Arthur and the others to tell them everything he'd seen the night before.
But before he could finish, everyone's attention turned to another rumor—
The statue in the Ravenclaw common room had come alive. It was said to embody Rowena Ravenclaw's very wisdom.
Hermione was bursting with excitement, tugging on Arthur's sleeve. "We have to go see it!"
But Arthur was unmoved. He'd talked enough last night.
Now the Ravenclaw common room was packed with people from all four Houses—everyone curious about Lady Rowena.
Ron was curious too, wondering what a thousand-year-old statue might look like.
"Maybe it's like a giant version of Wizard's Chess?" he mused.
"Hey, can we be serious for a second?" Harry shouted, forcing everyone's attention back. "Hogwarts is being attacked by some unknown monster!"
Ron spread his hands. "You said it yourself—unknown monster. What are we supposed to do about that?"
Arthur, however, had something else on his mind.
"Harry, I remember giving Filch a huge piece of mandrake root, didn't I? Didn't Snape brew the antidote with it? If he did, Colin should already be cured."
That amount of mandrake root was enough for ten doses, so his question was reasonable.
Hermione raised her hand eagerly. "I know this one! Apparently, Lockhart insisted he could brew the potion and took it from Filch himself. You can imagine the result."
Arthur nodded in understanding. No wonder he hadn't heard Mrs. Norris's nightly yowling recently—she must still be petrified.
"Sigh… Looks like all we can do now is wait for Hermione to finish the Polyjuice Potion," Harry said. "Then we can question Malfoy about the Chamber."
Hermione flashed an OK sign. "Don't worry! The brewing's going perfectly. It'll be ready soon."
"So you're certain it's Draco who opened the Chamber?" Arthur asked.
Harry nodded firmly. "Of course! Dobby said the Chamber had been opened before, and since he's the Malfoys' house-elf, that means last time it must've been Lucius Malfoy!
And remember—before school even started, Dobby tried to stop me from coming back, saying Hogwarts would be dangerous. That proves he knew it would be opened again."
His logic was sound enough. Who could've guessed that the real culprit was a fragment of Voldemort's soul hiding in a diary?
Even Dumbledore didn't yet know about the Horcruxes.
Poor Draco—he was just studying magic earnestly under his godfather's supervision, yet somehow he'd been saddled with the blame.
By noon, a new notice appeared on the school bulletin board: Colin Creevey had been petrified.
The little wizards who'd been excitedly discussing the Ravenclaw statue now fell into fearful silence.
When Arthur read the line "Hogwarts is no longer safe," he actually chuckled.
Hermione glanced at him. "What's funny?"
Arthur grinned. "Just thinking—calling Hogwarts unsafe is like saying Gringotts isn't secure. It's supposed to be the safest place in Britain!"
Hermione remembered their last term's duel with Voldemort and could only shake her head helplessly.
Just then, a flamboyant peacock of a man strutted toward the bulletin board and pinned up a new announcement.
A gaggle of Lockhart's adoring fans immediately swarmed forward, shoving Arthur and the others aside.
Not that it mattered—they could still hear a student reading aloud in an overly dramatic voice:
"The first meeting of the Dueling Club, hosted by yours truly, will take place this Wednesday afternoon! Primarily for second-year students, though all years are welcome to attend. Location: Classroom XXX.
Your most beloved professor,
Gilderoy Lockhart."
If possible, Arthur wished that student hadn't read the last line out loud.
Clearly, Lockhart had grown restless watching all the excitement lately. Under the pretext of "training students for self-defense," he'd applied to Dumbledore for permission to form a Dueling Club.
Knowing how unreliable Lockhart was, Dumbledore assigned Snape to assist him.
"Assist" was the polite word—everyone knew who would really be in charge.
Arthur smirked to himself, wondering what Professor Flitwick would think about being left out. After all, he'd once been an International Wizard Dueling Champion.
Maybe Dumbledore thought the whole idea was nonsense and didn't want to bother Flitwick—or maybe he simply hadn't considered it.
In any case, when the day came, several teachers showed up to watch. Flitwick wasn't among them.
"Alright, everyone! Gather round so you can all hear me properly!"
Lockhart stood atop a long table that had been turned into a stage, waving the young wizards closer.
He was dazzling in a silver-lined green suit, his cloak embroidered with elaborate patterns—standing in stark contrast to the all-black Snape at the table's end.
"In light of the recent alarming events," Lockhart announced, "Headmaster Dumbledore has graciously allowed me to open this Dueling Club! I'll teach you how to defend yourselves in times of danger—just as I've done in my many adventures! For details, read my books."
He paced dramatically, delivering his rehearsed speech—and of course, plugging his own works.
Finally, he shed his cloak and gestured grandly. "Now, allow me to introduce my assistant—Professor Snape!"
Snape's expression was thunderous as he stalked up onto the stage, each step smooth and eerily steady, as if he were gliding on rails.
From his hidden corner, Arthur nearly burst out laughing—but he managed to keep quiet. He was under a Disillusionment Charm, after all, sneaking in just to watch the show.
He'd attended only one of Lockhart's classes before, preferring to skip the rest and go on dates with Ranni instead.
If Lockhart saw him now, he'd probably drag him into some ridiculous demonstration—and Arthur couldn't be bothered. Crowds weren't his thing anyway.
So, invisible in the back, he enjoyed the spectacle.
"I and Professor Snape will now give you a brief demonstration," Lockhart declared, "but don't worry! I'll make sure your Potions Master returns to you unharmed."
Snape's expression darkened further, but Lockhart remained oblivious.
"Alright, let's begin!"
They turned back-to-back, took five paces apart—like old-west gunslingers.
Lockhart even counted dramatically, "One, two, three—"
Before he could finish, Snape flicked his wand. "Expelliarmus!"
Lockhart flew backward, landing hard and nearly tumbling off the stage.
The boys burst out laughing; the girls gasped in horror.
Picking himself up, Lockhart tried to save face. "Excellent demonstration, Professor Snape! Though, if I may say so, your intentions were rather obvious. I merely wished to show everyone the spell's effect."
Snape sneered. "Perhaps you should teach them defensive spells first, Professor Lockhart." He bit off the word Professor with particular venom.
Then, ignoring Lockhart, Snape turned toward the back of the hall.
"Arthur," he said flatly, "come up here and show them how it's done."
Arthur sighed and canceled his Disillusionment Charm. It hadn't been a strong one, so it was no surprise Snape had spotted him—but he hadn't expected to be called out.
Reluctantly, he climbed onto the stage.
Honestly, he hated fighting in such cramped spaces. The table was barely a meter and a half wide; in duels like this, whoever landed the first hit usually won.
(As any Souls-game veteran would say—terrible roll space.)
"Do we really have to fight?" he asked hopefully.
Snape nodded silently. He'd never actually seen his unofficial apprentice in combat before—only in the Potions lab.
"Show us a proper defense, then."
Arthur nodded, cast Protego, and—
Pulled out a massive greatsword.
Snape blinked. "What… are you doing?"
"Defending myself! The best defense is a good offense," Arthur said innocently, hefting the Darkmoon Greatsword.
"Use magic, not medieval weaponry!—Never mind. Just—use your wand."
Arthur tucked the sword away and sheepishly drew his wand. "You could've said that earlier."
Snape sighed and raised his own wand.
"Begin."
He struck first—another lightning-fast Expelliarmus!
Arthur parried casually. "Protego!"
The deflected spell ricocheted—straight into Lockhart.
Nobody paid attention to the poor man this time.
Snape frowned and followed up instantly. "Incendio!"
Flames roared toward Arthur, forcing him to move. Clever—Snape was trying to break his rhythm.
Arthur flicked his wand. "Aguamenti!"
A jet of water hissed out, dousing the fire.
"Diffindo!"
"Stupefy!"
Twin scarlet beams shot toward him. Arthur sidestepped the Stunner just in time, then countered—
"Glintstone Burst!"
Snape barely recognized the foreign spell—no incantation, just power. He dodged aside and hastily raised his own shield charm as the tracking shards pursued him.
And Arthur wasn't done.
"Crystal Volley!"
Dozens of glowing blue shards formed at his wand tip, firing like magical bullets.
Snape responded instantly. "Avis!"
A flock of conjured birds burst from his wand, colliding with the crystals midair, cancelling them out.
Arthur blinked. "So the spell that summons birds is called 'Hundredfold Barrage'? Who names these things?"
Snape seized the brief moment of distraction—his wand slashed through the air once more—
Visit my patreon for more chapters
Advance 30+ Chapters Available
patreon.com/WhiteDevil7554