Chapter 377: The Struggle
"I have a quick question, Sean. What did Voldemort choose to turn into a Horcrux?"
Before the stone statue could strike, Justin composed himself and asked with a flicker of academic curiosity.
"Ravenclaw's Diadem," Sean answered after a brief pause.
"Ravenclaw's Diadem?!" Justin breathed, his voice an involuntary gasp.
Legendary tales of the Diadem were as numerous as the stones of the castle itself. Just as nearly every Hogwarts student knew Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth, they also knew Rowena Ravenclaw had left behind a magically forged crown. It was said that the Diadem granted the wearer incomparable wisdom. The Weasley twins had even once tried to hawk a "Ravenclaw's Diadem" of their own making—though if they hadn't tried to pass off glass beads as rubies, they might have actually made three silver Sickles from the deal.
"Mmm," Sean grunted. He didn't dwell on Justin's shock. He pointed his wand forward, commanding the towering stone guardian to act.
In his mind, the system notification flickered: Magical Transfiguration Proficiency +3.
"Sean, wait... that's Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem. There must be a way—a way to remove the taint without destroying the relic itself..." Justin said, falling into a tense silence before deciding to press his point.
Sean looked at the crown as if it were a common bit of treacle fudge from the Great Hall, but Justin knew better than anyone how much his friend valued wisdom and knowledge. Now that he understood Voldemort was destined to return, he was even more loath to see such a powerful artifact reduced to slag.
"Perhaps. Or perhaps the stories are just legends," Sean said, his eyes shifting.
The stone guardian paused only for a heartbeat before its heavy feet resumed their rhythmic thud-thud-thud toward the shelf where the Diadem lay.
"Young wizard! Bold, reckless young wizard! Stay away from that thing!"
A familiar, screeching voice echoed through the Room of Hidden Things.
It was the Owl Gentleman. His gold-rimmed pince-nez had fallen to the floor of his painting. The stone statue, Sean, and Justin all whirled around at once to stare at the portrait.
"What are you gawking at?! Stupid young wizard! Reckless boy! Playing in the junk-room—and there's another—"
The Owl Gentleman flapped his wings frantically. Even though he had "lost his spectacles," his claws remained clamped firmly around his roll of parchment.
"Mr. Owl!" Justin exclaimed. He looked delighted; it was the first time he had seen the owl portrait anywhere other than the Room of Hope.
"Foolish, loyal little wizard!" the owl snapped, his language as sharp as ever.
"As a sage who has watched these halls for centuries, surely you know the Diadem," Justin said, ignoring the insult. "What did you mean by 'there's another'?"
"That is a secret—" The owl was clearly unimpressed by the flattery.
"Right. Then I suppose you wouldn't know how Voldemort managed to turn the Diadem into a Horcrux, either..." Justin added, his shoulders sagging in feigned disappointment.
"You dunderhead! You think I don't know? Go find the Grey—go find Helena—you meddling little wizards!"
The Owl Gentleman had reached a fever pitch of agitation, but he suddenly cut himself off. His voice dropped several octaves, becoming strangely quiet. "Tragedy has much to teach a wizard, if they have the ears to hear it."
Justin's eyes lit up. Before he could even utter a word of thanks, the portrait vanished. Simultaneously, Sean noticed that the white blur of Snowy had also disappeared from a nearby window.
"The Grey... the Grey... he means the Grey Lady!" Justin whispered urgently. "Sean, if we can find out how Voldemort crafted the Horcrux, we might find a way to break the curse. There's still a chance."
Sean spared one last look at the blackened crown. He raised his wand, and the stone guardian was instantly absorbed into the nearby modular wooden cabinet, which shifted and groaned until it formed a solid stone vault, sealing the Diadem within.
Only then did Sean feel his nerves settle.
"If we can't find a solution tonight," Sean warned, "we destroy it."
"Agreed," Justin said, his voice low and serious.
As they exited the Room of Requirement, they ran into a frantic Hermione waiting in the corridor. As the trio made their way toward Ravenclaw Tower, Justin kept his voice low, explaining the concept of a Horcrux.
"So... he can actually come back from the dead?" Hermione asked, her face turning ashen.
"There's nothing to fear, Hermione," Justin said firmly. "He wants to eradicate Muggle-borns, yet he fails to see that they are some of the most gifted wizards of this age. We'll stand together. We'll follow the best among us. And then, we'll fight him to the bitter end."
Hermione didn't answer immediately. She was still struggling to digest the horrific news.
In the corridor, a low rumble of noise drifted through the air like distant thunder, signaling that the last of the Hogsmeade visitors had returned. From both ends of the hall, the sound of heavy boots on stone and the happy, boisterous laughter of students who had spent the day eating and drinking filled the air.
The trio stood in the shadows as the twilight stretched their silhouettes across the floor.
"You're right," Hermione said, her voice trembling but determined. "We'll fight him."
"You know, Hermione," Justin said, watching the crowds. In the distance, he could see Hagrid returning from the Quidditch pitch; high above the hoops, the last few flyers were zipping through the air. "My mother always said: 'I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what.'"
His eyes were burning with a fire that was entirely different from Sean's calm, emerald gaze. His pupils reflected a storm of resolve.
Outside, the snow was falling—thick, heavy flakes that drifted onto the castle turrets like goose feathers. Inside, the torches flickered as the three young wizards marched with purpose.
They passed several ghosts on their way: the Gryffindor specter, Nearly Headless Nick, who was staring gloomily out a window, muttering, "...doesn't meet their requirements... only half an inch... if only..."
The Hufflepuff ghost, the portly Fat Friar, was busy consoling him. "I say, Nick, they really ought to give you another chance—"
Finally, to the trio's immense relief, the Ravenclaw ghost appeared.
She was a tall, elegant young woman with flowing hair. She drifted through the air, a shimmering, translucent silver-white. Her features were beautiful, but they were masked by a layer of haughty pride and a deep, ancient sorrow.
"There she is! The Grey Lady!" Hermione whispered.
"The Grey... I suspect that isn't her name," Justin mused, looking toward Sean.
Sean nodded slightly. Most of the school assumed it was the ghost's surname, but he knew better. She was simply The Grey Lady.
[End of Chapter 377]
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