Hogwarts: Proficiency Panel

Chapter 398 - 399: The Halo of Time

Soft, ethereal white light filtered through the forest canopy, preserving a pocket of profound stillness.

They stood beside a moss-covered stump. Along the winding, narrow path nearby, clusters of bioluminescent flora glowed like fallen stars. The forest was veined with many streams; even in his Wampus Cat form, Sean could hear the constant, melodic babble of the water.

"Is that truly your question?"

Rowena Ravenclaw spoke after a long silence. Her voice sounded much clearer now, as if a layer of the surrounding mist had been drawn away.

"The Grey Lady... that is what we call the ghost of Ravenclaw House—Helena Ravenclaw," the Wampus spoke quickly, sensing his time in the realm was nearly spent. "She... allowed me to call her that [Madam Helena]. She fears the Final Rest, yet she lingers at Hogwarts in a state of perpetual sorrow. I do not believe she is at peace."

"And so, you have allowed these ridiculous, meddling thoughts to take root, have you?" Rowena noted, her tone unreadable. "My successor... what am I to call you?"

"My name is of little consequence, Madam Ravenclaw," the cat replied, his whiskers twitching with a hint of anxiety as the fog began to surge around them.

A few seconds passed—seconds that felt like centuries in the heavy silence of the glade.

"Helena..."

Rowena let out a breath that was almost a sigh. She blinked slowly, her pale blue eyes no longer tracking the movements of the cat's whiskers. Her gaze turned as still as a frozen lake, reflecting nothing of the world around her.

"Come closer, my successor. What sort of story do you wish to hear?"

Before Sean could move, an invisible force nudged him forward until he was standing directly at Rowena's feet. She sat upon the grey boulder, and the heavy, ancient book she had been holding slipped from her lap, landing squarely on the cat's head.

"What... what is it you are weighing, Madam?" the cat asked, the book still resting atop his ears.

"The Druids—those who knew the ancient secrets of the oak—held that death was not the end of the soul, but the first step toward the heavens," Rowena said softly. "But for the lost souls, for the souls consumed by fear... death is merely an eternal torment."

She reached down, gently lifting the old book from Sean's head. Her hand brushed against his ink-black fur, patterned with its silver-white clouds.

"And if there were a magic," the cat ventured, "that could send a ghost onward?"

The Wampus Cat shivered. He realized the tragedy of it. The consensus of the Wizarding World for centuries was that ghosts were immortal—a truth so cruel that the wise Rowena might have preferred his ignorance. Two souls, bound by memory, yet destined never to meet.

"Perhaps such a thing exists..."

Rowena paused, her eyes falling on the title of the book that had just slipped. Her voice died away instantly. She stared at the cover as if her mind had to travel a vast, grueling distance to comprehend the words written there. Only the slight, rhythmic tremor of her eyelashes proved that time had not stopped entirely.

The Book of Ghosts—the title shimmered on the weathered leather.

"My successor... was it you who sent Sayre to me?" she asked, her voice wavering with emotion for the first time.

"Mmm," the cat hummed in affirmation. He thought of the Grey Lady again. As the mist threatened to swallow him, a kaleidoscope of memories regarding Helena flashed through his mind. The opportunity is slipping away, he thought desperately.

"Do not worry," Rowena said suddenly.

She offered a brilliant, radiant smile. Sean looked up and saw a thick, silver thread extending from his own mist-shrouded form. It vibrated once, then pulled him firmly back into the center of his own domain within the Lands Between.

"Are you surprised, child?"

Between Rowena's fingertips, the silver thread—the anchor of his connection to her—was pulled taut. Sean was stunned. How can a person feel such a concentrated burst of love for someone they have never met? He couldn't grasp the logic of it.

"Tell me, then: when you next visit this realm, do you believe you have found your compass?" Rowena asked.

The cat offered a very human nod. With the anchor established, it wouldn't matter how far or how blurred the path became; Sean would always be able to find his way back to her through the bridge of that connection.

"To my shoulder, my successor," Rowena commanded.

She wore a quiet, peaceful smile as the Wampus Cat shimmered and shrank, shifting into a small black Kneazle that settled onto her robes.

It was a strange, poetic sight: the legendary founder and the young wizard, like a sudden, unexpected breeze meeting in the heart of the ancient forest.

"Now... where shall our story begin?"

Rowena's voice was a distant murmur. The black cat on her shoulder remained silent, watching as an impossible snow began to fall within the forest of the soul.

"Long ago, when the world and I were both young, I created three treasures," she began. "A castle that breathes, a diadem that possesses its own spark of wisdom, and a tiny, warm miracle—my daughter, Helena.

"I gave my years to the cold stone walls and the ancient parchments. The stairs of the castle grew more intricate by the day, and the light of the diadem grew more dazzling... but you know the end of that tale. To all but the truly wise... desire is a master that wizards cannot easily defeat."

Rowena fell silent, her eyes lost in the falling snow.

"You forgave her long ago, didn't you?" the cat whispered.

"How could I ever harbor a grudge against her?" Rowena smiled gently.

"In the world of the ghosts, if no one remains to care for them, they slowly lose their minds and their hearts. Madam Helena has never realized that truth. I only wished to say... you have walked this path for ten centuries, just for her."

"You are too young, child," Rowena explained slowly. "You do not yet know that memory has a habit of eroding the bitter and amplifying the sweet. It is because of that mystery that the wizards of the Light are able to carry the burdens of the past."

"I will return," the cat said, watching the fog begin to churn once more. He had his answer.

Rowena stopped walking. She watched as the white flakes settled into the cat's fur like a dusting of sugar.

"And you? Do you seek nothing for yourself?" she asked.

"I have already received quite enough from Hogwarts," the cat replied, its ears giving a small, content flick.

"Happiness satisfies you so easily... then why do you ask for her sake?"

Sean thought for a moment as the silver threads of the mist began to wrap around his limbs. "Madam Ravenclaw... well, she once helped me find a shortcut to class when the stairs were acting up. I wasn't late for my lesson."

Rowena let out a genuine, melodic laugh. Her eyes crinkled into soft crescents.

"We are friends," the cat added.

Rowena looked at him. Everything about him seemed so youthful, so new—save for those emerald eyes. They were deep, steady, and filled with a resolve that mirrored the ancient forest.

"May I ask one more thing?" the cat said suddenly. He had always wondered how a spirit could endure the Lands Between for so long without succumbing to the void.

"To any other, I would say no. But to you, my dear... you may ask as much as you wish. I will not refuse you."

"How does a ghost endure ten centuries in this place?" Sean asked.

But the world turned into a blinding, stark white. The mist erupted into a violent surge, and Sean felt himself being yanked forcefully from the realm. His voice was cut off before it could reach her.

Rowena was left alone in the silent forest. The snow melted against her hair as she whispered to the empty air:

"Ten centuries? Is that all it has been? When I think of you, Helena, the world simply rewinds in a halo of light.

"The things I once believed to be eternal—even Time itself—are fragile things when measured against the heart."

[End of Chapter 399]

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