[174] A Wolf at the Door

Hall followed the Grey Lady into her room. Looking closer, it wasn't really a common room — it was a private chamber. Comfortable chairs by the window and fireplace. A vase of withered flowers on the table.

"Lady Helena — where would your mother have placed the door?"

"I don't know..." Her voice was faint. She looked around, dazed. Could Hall be right? Would her mother really have made such an arrangement?

"I'm sure she did."

The Grey Lady finally snapped out of it. "Thank you. But I truly don't know where. If you hadn't told me, I wouldn't have imagined it existed."

Hall gave Hermione a look.

Hermione looked away. Family dynamics — she was terrible at this. Hall looked like an expert.

Harry and Draco stared at the ceiling and floor. They refused to make eye contact.

Hall sighed. "Please think carefully. The door might not be a literal door — like the book Ron found. That book was a hidden door. The door your mother left for you will be more obvious. Letting a student into her room versus letting her daughter in — those are different."

The Grey Lady swayed slightly. "I think I understand."

She floated to a bookshelf and picked up a palm-sized jewel box.

Hall said nothing. It was clear she'd never considered opening it.

"You'll have to face it eventually."

Hall glanced at the others — useless. Hermione glared at him. Harry and Draco were oblivious.

The Grey Lady stared at the box, hesitant. "I never thought my mother would die one day. She was always the strongest wizard."

Draco and Harry itched to argue — Slytherin! Gryffindor! — but held their tongues. In a daughter's eyes, her mother was the strongest.

"So I never believed she could die of illness." Her voice broke. "I thought it was a lie — a lie to force me back to Hogwarts."

The ghost, who couldn't cry, shed tears. They vanished before hitting the ground.

"I never got to see her one last time."

Helena wept silently. No one spoke — they watched her process emotions that were hers alone.

The weeping subsided. She composed herself and slowly opened the jewel box.

Inside was a silver pocket watch, bearing the marks of time. Despite centuries in the box, the case and chain bore no stain — it had been carefully preserved.

She opened the case. The hands still turned. Inside was a small photograph of two women — one standing, one sitting — obviously mother and daughter. The seated woman exuded a gentle, scholarly air. The standing girl was young, but her eyes held pride — a pampered little princess.

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"This was taken on my fourteenth birthday." She reached out to stroke the photograph. "Mother was very busy. She was one of Hogwarts' founders — a great wizard revered by posterity. She couldn't be with me, not even for every birthday. I felt resentful. Why couldn't she be with me? I thought — if I became as capable and intelligent as her, would her attention finally fall on me?"

Hall sighed. "Communication is the best family glue." He added softly, "I'm grateful to have been born into the Weasley family."

"On my fourteenth birthday, she finally made time. We took this photo. I thought I'd done the right thing. I am Ravenclaw. My blood flows like hers. My pursuit of knowledge will never cease."

"And then — "

Harry and Draco leaned in. Stopping halfway was torture!

"You stole the Ravenclaw diadem," Hall said quietly. "Your mother fell seriously ill. You died in different places."

The Grey Lady looked at him, utterly calm. "Yes."

She didn't ask how he knew.

"What do I do now?" She had isolated herself for centuries. Run for centuries. Until Hall appeared — she'd finally confronted everything.

Hall hesitated. "Try infusing some magic into it."

He'd been thinking about ghost mechanics. Ghosts couldn't eat, couldn't cry — but they could cry at peak grief. They could touch objects (Peeves and his water balloons). They could pass through people. They could be professors — Professor Binns taught History of Magic.

Theoretically, ghosts possessed magic. Where did it come from? He wanted to study it properly.

The Grey Lady suddenly felt a chill down her spine. She dismissed it — she was already dead. The Bloody Baron couldn't kill her twice.

She channeled magic into the pocket watch. Carefully — it was ordinary silver.

The next second, powerful yet gentle, harmless magic erupted from the watch, enveloping everyone. Their bodies emitted faint white light.

Hall felt like he was soaking in warm water. Harry's eyes went hazy — it felt like his mother's embrace.

"Mother..." The Grey Lady choked up.

She recognised it. Her mother's magic. Powerful yet restrained. Boundless yet controlled.

It could only be Rowena Ravenclaw.

"Awooo — help, Hall! A ghost — "

Before the white magical light had fully faded, Hall heard Ron's howls.

He stopped mid-stride. "...I suddenly feel a bit embarrassed."

Hermione's eyes danced with amusement. "Accept it. You stole all Ron's intelligence when you were in the womb."

"Hmph." Draco mumbled something and stopped. He knew how important family was to Hall. He gave Ron a disapproving look. This obviously brainless idiot was Hall's brother?

Ron looked equally aggrieved. First abandoned in the library, then a blinding white light erupted, revealing hazy figures — one of which was clearly not alive. Terrifying.

"Ron."

"Who are you?! Don't think I'm fooled just because you sound like Hall — awooo!"

The bronze eagle that had been chasing him pecked him again.

Hall couldn't bear to watch. He looked at the Grey Lady. "Lady Helena — that's my brother, Ron Weasley. Could you call off the eagle?"

The Grey Lady hesitated. She'd been immersed in her mother's magic moments ago, grieving. Ron's wailing had snapped her back. She looked at him like he was a monstrous creature.

"I never imagined Mr Salazar's other descendants would be like this." A mutation in the bloodline, perhaps?

"The eagle is a guardian spirit imbued with my mother's magic. It protects the books from harm." She turned her gaze to Ron.

"How could anyone damage these precious books?" Hermione's hair stood on end. "Ron Weasley, how could you!"

"Hermione, calm down!" Harry tried to stop her.

"Oh! Gryffindor lioness, you have your moments," Draco fanned the flames. "This person is truly heinous!"

"After three pecks, the eagle stops as long as the books aren't damaged again," the Grey Lady said, sounding experienced.

Hall leaned closer. "I'm curious — who else has been pecked?"

The Grey Lady looked away. "Perhaps it's what you think."

Hall grinned. Then he could be a fictional historian without worry.

Ron, running wildly, finally processed his surroundings. "Hall!" He rushed toward him.

Hall sidestepped. "The eagle is still chasing you. Let it finish pecking, then come find me."