"A diadem?"
Ravenclaw looked intrigued.
She turned her head and saw Helena's face flushing red like an overheated steam engine.
"Mother…" Helena sounded annoyed.
"I don't think so." the black cat replied.
"Green!
I'm supposed to be outside the door, aren't I, Rowena?"
Helena grew even more embarrassed and angry.
"My dear Helena, you've finally gotten one thing right."
Ravenclaw's lips held a faintly teasing curve. She seemed to enjoy messing with Helena.
With a loud bang, the door swung open and shut again. Helena stormed out in a huff.
The black cat stared after her, as if understanding something.
If Ravenclaw kept teasing Helena like this—
and Helena's temper was… complicated…
"This was supposed to make both people laugh, wasn't it?"
After speaking, the black cat used its tail to push the door open and followed her out.
Ravenclaw's smile faltered slightly.
A moment later, a soft sigh sounded inside the cottage.
Outside, the garden was overflowing with flowers—purple, white, pink—dense enough to form a single, vivid sea of color.
Helena stood in the middle of it all, alone.
On a vine-wrapped trellis, a black cat appeared atop a copper basin, then slowly walked over and climbed onto Helena's shoulder.
"Does love make people foolish?" the black cat asked.
"You should be inside, Green." Helena said after a pause.
The black cat didn't answer—only curled up on her shoulder.
They watched the streams gather, the first snow melt, and thin strands of light fall on the sharp green tips of grass pushing through the mud.
Helena pressed her lips together, thinking she might be… a little weak.
She wanted to ask for help—especially with it resting on her shoulder.
Not to beg for some grand gift. Just this was enough: don't leave, don't vanish—stay here, with her.
In her long existence, she'd never felt anything like that.
"Headmaster Dumbledore said this is the greatest magic.
It's so difficult that people often get trapped in it."
The black cat spoke, its voice arriving with the sunset.
"Do you think I was wrong?" Helena asked.
"I'm on your side." the black cat thought for a moment, then said.
Helena didn't speak for a long time. She stared blankly at the horizon drowned in sunset, mist blurring the distant forest.
"You're leaving. And there's still so much you don't understand, Green." Helena said.
"I understand now."
For once, the black cat looked confident—rare, since it usually believed it still fell short.
"Wisdom in a crown, not in books—doesn't that sound ridiculous?"
A gust of wind came. Its body dissolved into the mist, but warmth still lingered on Helena's shoulder.
"You've made a very good friend, my dear Helena."
From far off, Ravenclaw's figure approached through the dusk.
"And you've found a fine heir, Ravenclaw," Helena muttered, still irritated.
"All right, my dear—wisdom never gave me even the slightest advantage in love." Ravenclaw said.
"But I want you to know: once, I broke my own reason—my own moral boundaries. I ignored the tragedies, ignored everything I once insisted on… and threw it all behind me.
I did that then, and I should do it now. I'm trying to learn how to love you. Will you do it with me?"
…
Ravenclaw dormitory.
The first sunlight spread over the sky-blue curtains, and not far away, Sean woke up.
The first thing he did was write, in bold strokes, in his notebook:
[One hour and seven minutes]
Then, full of quiet joy, he looked into the distance.
He knew he didn't need to worry about the two Ravenclaw ladies anymore—and that he might have found Ravenclaw's true wisdom.
Just as he'd said: wisdom isn't in books, but in a symbolic diadem—how could that not be ridiculous?
As for books—he'd seen some ancient volumes in Ravenclaw's workshop. More importantly, he'd seen an even more special piece of parchment.
Morning. Clear skies, bright sun, a pleasant breeze.
Wrapped in a scarf, Sean walked down corridors few students used.
He always woke early—so early that when he reached Hope Nook, only one portrait was awake: the owl.
Still, he needed to be quick. Before long, Hermione, Ron, and Justin would arrive.
"Good morning, Mr. Owl." Sean said.
"Morning… go on in! Clever little wizard!" Mr. Owl chattered as usual.
"I can make requests of this room, right?" Sean asked.
"Of course—only you—though do you even know what you need?" Mr. Owl snorted, puffing out his chest.
"I want to see the parchment you've been keeping." Sean said.
"Ah…"
The owl's gold-rimmed glasses slipped off. Its face tightened with effort. Clutching the parchment, it blurted out in a fluster:
"This parchment—oh, this parchment—are you sure you want it? It's old, it's torn…"
It scrambled for excuses, clearly not wanting Sean to take it.
"Didn't you say I could make requests?" Sean asked.
"Clever little wizard! Of course you can…"
Mr. Owl sounded panicked.
"Fine, if you don't want to, then—" Sean began softly.
He didn't think his guess was wrong. Mr. Owl just looked unwell, and Sean figured he could ask again later.
"I do want to!" Mr. Owl snapped, pecking at the frame in frustration.
"Do you know how long I've been with it? Twelve centuries! Twelve centuries!
Countless wizards tried to get it—and all of them guessed wrong.
Even that Tom fellow. They chased after a flashy diadem—sure, it has some use…
Now you've found it. You're taking it. I should be happy…
Lady Ravenclaw's commission is complete…"
As it spoke, tears began to drip—plop, plop—from Mr. Owl's eyes.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Owl." Sean said.
It felt a little cruel—forcing Mr. Owl to part with the parchment.
"You really want it?" Mr. Owl asked again.
Sean nodded, looking a bit helpless.
"Then you have to take it with something else—packaged together!" Mr. Owl declared.
"What is it?" Sean asked, studying Mr. Owl.
Big eyes behind those gold-rimmed glasses, dressed in neat formalwear…
Sean wondered: Are those glasses themselves some kind of alchemical artifact?
"That's right—it's—" Mr. Owl drew out the words dramatically.
"The glasses?" Sean guessed.
"Me!" Mr. Owl said.