The box's lid lifted with a slow, whispering creak, the sound barely audible beneath the hum of old magic stirring in the chamber.
Faint light radiated from within — blue, black, and crimson, flickering across the polished marble floor like reflections on water.
Cassius stepped closer.
Three rings lay before him, each resting upon its own velvet cushion — the sapphire-blue of Ravenclaw, the deep crimson of Gryffindor, and the black and silver of Draconis.
He extended his hand toward the first — Ravenclaw's ring — a delicate circlet of silver etched with ancient script that shimmered faintly like moonlight upon frost.
A sapphire the color of midnight rested at its crown with the holographic image of a raven trapped within.
Hermione and Mrs. Granger stood silent in the far corner, watching with wide eyes.
"Ravenclaw first," Cassius murmured. "Knowledge before power."
The moment his fingers brushed the ring, the world shifted.
The marble chamber dissolved — and suddenly he stood within a vast hall of mirrors.
Each pane reflected a different version of himself — older, younger, kinder, crueler — all watching in silence.
A voice echoed through the space, crisp and cool as wind through winter glass.
"Welcome, seeker. You stand before the legacy of Rowena Ravenclaw. Knowledge is my dominion, and wit my blade. If you would bear my mark, you must answer my riddle."
Cassius inclined his head. "Then speak it."
A faint hum rippled through the air.
The mirrors shimmered, and the voice spoke again —
"In twilight's hush, i'm forged with fire, a symbol of might, in battle's dire. A viking's friend, a warriors pride, my nam is whispered, as the ravens reside. What am i?"
Cassius didn't even blink.
"Ulfberht," he said. "A viking blade of course."
For a moment, silence hung in the air — then the mirrors rippled with soft laughter.
"Quick of mind," said the voice. "But that was only the gate."
The mirrors twisted again, merging into a single pane before him — and within it, he saw a library stretching beyond sight, books swirling like constellations through the air.
"Knowledge untested is hollow. You may take what you wish from my archives — but know that for every truth you claim, a falsehood will follow. Choose wisely."
Shelves appeared before him, each tome gleaming faintly with light or shadow.
Cassius's eyes scanned them swiftly — "The Mechanics of Memory", "The Principles of Prophecy", "A Treatise on the Limits of Logic".
He reached for none of them.
Instead, he turned to the empty space between shelves — where a single, invisible book waited sensed out by his magical perception.
He extended his hand and spoke quietly, "The Book Unwritten — the knowledge one must seek for oneself."
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the air itself shuddered.
The shelves trembled, and a faint light enveloped him.
"Correct," whispered the voice, softer now, proud almost. "Wisdom is not in knowing all things, but knowing what must be learned."
The mirrors shattered, dissolving into light.
When the glow faded, Cassius found himself once again in the Gringotts chamber.
The Ravenclaw ring now rested upon his right index finger, glowing softly with blue fire before fading into silence.
Hermione exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"Are you alright?"
Cassius looked back a bit confused, sure his mind had gone to a different realm for the challenge but surely nothing here would have changed right?
Seeing his confusion Mrs. Granger spoke up to clarify.
"You were standing there for almost an hour muttering to yourself dear."
"Oh? I was... sorry about that." He sheepishly responded scratching the back of his head. "I was taking the test the ring provided, it will probably happen for the next to as well."
Then, without hesitation, he reached for the second ring.
The Gryffindor heir's ring was heavier — forged of gold, carved with the faint outline of a roaring lion.
Its ruby core seemed to burn from within, like a captured ember.
The moment he lifted it, the world ripped away again — and this time, fire filled his lungs.
He stood upon a blood-red battlefield beneath a storm-torn sky.
Armor shimmered faintly across his body, a sword heavy in his hand.
All around, shadowed figures advanced — warriors of smoke and ash, faceless and endless.
A booming voice rolled across the plain.
"Courage is not the absence of fear," said Godric Gryffindor's voice, deep and thunderous, "but the will to face it. Stand, claimant. Show me your heart."
Cassius didn't waste time with words.
He moved.
The sword swung in a clean, deliberate arc, cutting through the first of the shadows.
They dissolved into mist — but more replaced them.
Ten.
Twenty.
Fifty.
Every time one fell, two more stepped forward.
Soon, the tide pressed in — blades flashing, smoke choking the air.
Cassius fought silently, methodically.
But fatigue began to claw at his limbs; sweat burned in his eyes.
And still, the voice of Gryffindor echoed—
"You cannot win by the sword alone. The battle is not in your arm, but in your will. What do you fight for?"
Cassius staggered backward, breathing hard.
What did he fight for?
Power?
Legacy?
No.
Not truly.
He closed his eyes — and in that instant, the image that rose was Hermione, standing small but defiant in a world that did not yet accept her.
Next rose, Cho, Daphne, Astoria, Ginny, Luna, even his previous world parents.
Standing behind them was a faceless mass of children, forms visible but faces never settling.
A disturbing fear gripped his heart, as he watched, coming to the conclusion that their faceless selves werent set because they were from the future.
The children who might not exist if he fails, and cannot complete his revolution...
He gripped the sword with renewed strength and whispered, "I fight so others don't have to."
The battlefield went still.
The shadows froze — then bowed, one by one, their forms collapsing into golden dust that drifted upward into the storm.
From the clouds above, a single streak of light pierced the darkness, striking the blade in Cassius's hands.
"Then you have learned what it means to be brave," said Gryffindor's voice, softer now, almost proud. "The lion roars for those who stand for more than themselves."
The world flared white.
When Cassius opened his eyes again, the Gryffindor ring burned faintly upon his left hand.
Hermione gasped.
Upon his return, the ring of Griffindor was now on thie right hand middle finger.
But his whole self was drenched in sweat, the exertion he'd just undergone in his mind was real for his body.
Seeing him finally come to shocked Hermione.
For minutes they had watched as he stood still, and yet kept on grunting and groaning, almost like he was being tortured, and yet upon coming through it succesfuly he seemed perfectly fine, aside from being a little tired.
He turned to the final ring — the one resting upon black velvet, its surface gleaming like obsidian streaked with silver veins.
The Ring of Draconis.