"Thank you for the compliment, sir, but it's truly nothing. I just wanted to correct a mistake," Allen said, his tone humble and cautious, sensing the peculiar weight in Dumbledore's voice. "I only did what was necessary to ensure Mr. Filch's workload wasn't pointlessly increased by our carelessness."
"Kindness is indeed valuable, and it shines most brightly when paired with a strong sense of responsibility," Dumbledore mused, his eyes twinkling in the dim hallway light. "Mr. Harris, you must be exhausted after such an eventful night. Please, return to your comfortable bed in Ravenclaw Tower. Sweet dreams, and good night."
Dumbledore, surprisingly, gave no punishment for breaking curfew. Allen considered this: Dumbledore had always favored wizards who exhibited the daring and adventurous spirit of Gryffindor. Besides, while Allen was prepared to accept any consequences, avoiding trouble was always preferable.
Allen bowed slightly to the Headmaster and turned to leave.
As he reached the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower, the familiar eagle door knocker posed its usual riddle: "You can silence it by speaking its name. What is it?"
It was late, and Allen was mentally exhausted. He sighed and answered impatiently, "Silence."
The door opened soundlessly, and the young Ravenclaw slipped inside.
Just as he was about to head up to his dormitory, Allen stopped abruptly. He felt an intense sensation of being watched. He quickly scanned the common room, but found nothing—not even a wandering ghost.
Knowing his senses hadn't failed him, Allen didn't proceed to his dorm. His older brother, Albert, often drilled a piece of advice into him: "Always maintain situational awareness." It was the unofficial motto of a senior Auror, and at that moment, Allen felt it was profoundly meaningful. He drew his wand.
Fortunately, the magical candles in the Ravenclaw common room burned all night for the comfort of the students who enjoyed late-night reading, providing Allen with excellent visibility.
The blue velvet curtains stirred gently in the breeze, but there was clearly no one behind them. The star-spangled ceiling and the patterned carpet were unobstructed. Allen let his gaze drift slowly over the towering bookshelves and the large, inviting chairs. Empty.
The quiet night, punctuated only by the distant chirping of unseen insects and the soft breeze, should have been utterly peaceful. But the persistent chill of being watched still clung to him. Since he had checked every conceivable hiding spot, only one possibility remained: he walked quickly to the niche opposite the door and carefully examined the white marble bust of Rowena Ravenclaw.
It was a face of exceptional beauty, the features sharp and elegant, as if carved by a master sculptor. The firm, closed lips, slightly downturned eyes, and furrowed brow gave the statue an air of profound wisdom and severity. But as Allen stared at the founder's face, he felt an immediate, strange familiarity. Realizing something was wrong, he quickly shook his head, reaffirmed his Occlumency, and resumed his scrutiny.
The statue held a staff in one hand, crossing her chest and resting over her heart. Her other hand hung naturally but was open in a gesture of invitation or explanation.
The entire pose seemed to encourage students toward the pursuit of magical secrets, spell explanations, and the earnest contemplation of life's philosophies. Most strikingly, Rowena Ravenclaw's eyes seemed to follow him, constantly staring, seeing him no matter where he stood.
Allen found nothing physically unusual about the statue, yet his highly developed senses confirmed that the feeling of being watched was definitely emanating from within the marble.
"I know you're hiding in the statue. Come out now!" Allen pointed his wand directly at the founder's effigy.
"If you don't reveal yourself, I'm going to shatter this statue." Allen tapped his wand against the marble. The tip glowed faintly. "It's going to break into a thousand pieces—"
"Stop! How dare you threaten the founder's memorial?!" An extremely beautiful and tall female ghost immediately floated out from inside the statue.
"Ah, it's you, Lady Grey," Allen said, lowering his wand slightly, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. He had almost blasted his Head of House's ghost.
The Grey Lady was the Ravenclaw House Ghost. Like her mother, Rowena Ravenclaw, she was tall and graceful, with long hair cascading to her waist and flowing, floor-length robes that emphasized her elegant figure. However, unlike her mother, who was famed for her powerful wisdom, the Grey Lady exuded an air of undue arrogance and a slight condescension toward others.
"Allen Harris. I know who you are. You've been one of the most promising students to enter Ravenclaw in years. Many professors speak highly of you. But I've observed you leaving the tower very early every morning, using a Disillusionment Charm. Your behavior is irregular. What are you concealing?" The Grey Lady positioned herself defensively near the statue, as if ready to retreat inside if necessary. Her past experience had made her intensely wary of students who behaved this way.
"So you've been watching me from inside the statue," Allen acknowledged, shrugging off the accusation. "My dear Lady, everyone has a few secrets, but my morning ritual isn't one of them. I simply rise early to exercise, and I conceal myself only to avoid causing unnecessary disruption or trouble. The school patrols are quite vigorous." Allen was certain that the Grey Lady meant no malicious harm; if it had been Peeves, the situation would have been far more dangerous.
"But I am intensely curious: how exactly do you manage to inhabit the statue of our House Founder, Rowena Ravenclaw?" Allen pressed the point, staring intently at the ghost, and didn't miss the momentary panic in her translucent eyes.
"Rowena Ravenclaw is my mother, and as her only daughter, I have the ability to project my image onto her statue," the Grey Lady explained, her voice quick and slightly defensive.
Allen instantly realized the problem. Given the Grey Lady's usually reserved and conventional personality, she would never normally entertain such an intrusive question, let alone offer such a fussy explanation. While portraits often move, a ghost possessing a large, solid marble statue—especially one of such a highly respected figure—was rare. Moaning Myrtle could possess a toilet because there was hollow space and piping inside. Ghosts could pass through a thick wall, but they couldn't remain inside a solid physical object for long. Therefore, the statue must be hollow, or the ghost was lying about her ability.
Within minutes, Allen was certain the Grey Lady was being deceptive. Why was she lying? What was she trying to hide?
"Extraordinary intelligence is truly humanity's greatest strength. Your mother was both beautiful and wise. As her only child, you are fortunate to have inherited so much from such a wonderful woman." Allen adopted a smooth, social tone and a gentle demeanor, deciding to start with compliments. An older person had used this tactic on him before, and while he didn't find the flattery effective himself, he had observed that it often worked wonders on others.
"Do you believe you are fortunate, boy? As you gain more experience, you will learn that extraordinary intelligence is not always the greatest asset—it can even lead to profound tragedy. And having a wonderful mother celebrated with countless accolades may not be good for either of you." The Grey Lady's transparent form seemed to shimmer, and her voice was laced with deep sorrow, as if a painful memory had been touched.
"You sound quite distressed…" Allen offered a gesture of comfort. "You see, I am a committed Ravenclaw. If any descendant of our founder requires assistance, I would be most happy to lend my intellect and aid in any way possible."
"Perhaps you are a true Ravenclaw, a student chosen to my mother's exacting standards. There was once a young man much like you—perfect, charming, and highly persuasive—and he convinced me to reveal a secret, only to betray me." The Grey Lady bristled, and the expression on her translucent face twisted into one of pained resentment.
"What was his name? And what school was he from?" Allen pressed, trying his best to empathize with the Lady while subtly pointing out the clear differences between his own and the mystery man's background.