Ravenclaw House, a house that values learning and wit.
When Marcel was first sorted at the beginning of the school year, it seemed this was the first house the Sorting Hat had considered for him. This indicated that, in some respects, he was indeed a good fit for Ravenclaw.
Now, after careful consideration, he felt he should at least build some connections first. If anyone were to ask in the future, he would at least have an excuse.
And, while I'm at it, I can pave the way for Luna before she starts school.
When it came to Ravenclaw House, the person Marcel was most interested in was not Professor Flitwick, the Charms professor and Head of House, nor any of the current students, but the ghost of the Ravenclaw Tower—the Grey Lady.
This was not only because she had been at Hogwarts for a long time, but also because he could surely pry many ancient secrets about Ravenclaw House from her.
The Grey Lady was the ghost of Ravenclaw, her real name being Helena Ravenclaw, the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw herself. She had stolen her mother's diadem and died at the hands of the Bloody Baron, who had been secretly in love with her. Although she had committed an unfilial and unjust act, she had always been just a simple and vain person.
If he wanted to obtain some secrets about Ravenclaw, starting here was clearly the most appropriate approach.
Regarding Rowena Ravenclaw, Marcel had read some records about the Hogwarts founders in several books shortly after starting school. To be honest, among the four founders of Hogwarts, Ravenclaw and Slytherin probably had the highest magical achievements.
And unlike Salazar Slytherin's preference for practical application, Rowena Ravenclaw was a true theorist.
As a magical scholar, Ravenclaw had completed a great deal of theoretical research in her lifetime, which was exactly what Marcel had always been pursuing.
"Grey Lady—Grey Lady, please wait a moment!" Marcel called out, having asked the Fat Friar of Hufflepuff where she was and tracked her down.
Helena had inherited her mother's looks and had once been a beautiful woman with long, curly hair. Although she was now a ghost, she still maintained her youthful appearance.
Well, she's a bit transparent, but that doesn't matter.
"Grey Lady, could you wait a moment?" Marcel asked, noticing that she seemed reluctant to engage with people.
Called out to repeatedly, Helena finally stopped. She turned around, floating a few inches off the ground, and looked at Marcel with a cold expression.
"My beautiful Grey Lady," Marcel quickly stood his ground and performed an elegant, old-fashioned bow. "I wonder if I might trouble you for a moment of your time. There is something I feel I must tell you."
She stared at Marcel for a moment, then nodded with a slightly haughty look.
Marcel bowed slightly again. While expressing his thanks, he couldn't help but feel that a child performing these gestures probably looked quite comical. But he knew that Helena was a woman who enjoyed being respected, and his actions might win him some favor.
"It's like this," Marcel began, reciting the speech he had prepared. "While I was consulting books in the library, I came across some records about Ravenclaw House. Yes, I have already learned of your identity."
As he spoke, Marcel paid close attention to Helena's expression. Seeing her frown slightly but not reject the topic, he knew this was a good start.
"And regarding you, I happened to overhear some old stories from the Bloody Baron..."
"I believe your choice was not wrong," Marcel said cautiously. "To pursue truth, to pursue glory, is an instinct that everyone should have. It represents superior wisdom and a supreme aspiration."
"Oh, yes—" Helena suddenly let out a light laugh. "You thought I would say that?"
Marcel was stunned. This was not what he had expected.
"Yes, you are right," she continued. "I have always thought so. But unfortunately, I have already heard similar words once before."
"And I have no desire to hear them a second time," Helena said, her smile vanishing as she looked coldly at Marcel.
"Heard them before? Who said—" Marcel's mind raced, and he suddenly realized he might have overlooked something.
"I don't know where you heard about that matter, but I am certain it is not in the library—"
"Was it Tom Riddle?" Marcel interjected suddenly.
Marcel hadn't given much thought before as to how Voldemort had found the diadem. But now it seemed that Voldemort, like him, had probably chosen Helena as his entry point.
Helena looked at Marcel. She didn't know how he could have guessed. That matter should have been known only to her.
"Grey Lady, I believe the meaning I wish to express is completely different from that person's," Marcel said, his gentle tone from before becoming a bit more intense.
"Tom Riddle only flattered you to get the diadem, but I am different," Marcel said. "I genuinely believe that your actions are worthy of every wizard's praise. And I have no need for the diadem. I simply wish to have some interaction with a woman as beautiful and wise as you."
Marcel could see a slight change in Helena's expression. His syrupy compliments were having an effect on her.
"I hope you know, a friend of mine will be starting school next year. I believe she will be sorted into Ravenclaw because of her beauty and intelligence, which are similar to yours," Marcel decided to strike while the iron was hot, continuing to praise her in a roundabout way. "You know, you are the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw. Your qualities clearly represent the virtues required for admission to Ravenclaw House."
This half-true, half-false flattery clearly moved Helena, but Marcel himself was already covered in goosebumps.
She smiled slightly and said haughtily, "What you say makes sense, but past experiences prevent me from trusting you easily."
"Unless—" She seemed to be in a good mood, drawing out her words to build suspense.
"Unless?" Marcel played along, putting on a curious expression.
"Unless you can pass through the Ravenclaw bronze eagle door by yourself tonight and enter the common room," she said with a smile. "My mother used to say, 'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure.' I will be waiting for you in the common room."
With that, Helena rose with a smile and floated away.
"Looks like you haven't learned your lesson," Marcel thought, shaking his head as he watched her leave.
The entrance to the Ravenclaw common room was at the top of a spiral staircase in the west tower of the castle. There, a bare, old wooden door stood, with only a bronze, eagle-shaped knocker.
At some point late that night, two knocks echoed out of thin air. As the sound faded, a figure suddenly appeared in front of the door.
The beak of the bronze knocker opened, and it spoke in a soft, melodious voice.
"Where do vanished objects go?"
"Into non-being."
Marcel thought for a moment and answered quickly, but the door showed no sign of opening.
After a moment, the eagle's beak opened again.
"What is born from nothingness?"
"Wasn't it just one question? Did Helena do something?" Marcel thought to himself, then calmed his mind and continued to ponder for a moment.
"Something from nothing, from which all things are derived."
"Of all things in the world, what is truth?" A short while later, a third question followed.
Marcel thought carefully, his brow gradually furrowing.
These questions were clearly a progressive exploration, not at all like questions meant for students. For the first time, Marcel felt his own brain wasn't quite up to the task.
After pondering for a long time, he gave his answer, still unsure if it was correct.
"Matter drives phenomena; mind enacts the laws."
But the wretched eagle's beak clearly wasn't done with him yet. It posed a fourth question.
"Matter and spirit, which will be destroyed first?"
Give me a break! Who could answer a question like that? I'll just have to take a wild, educated guess.
"A complementary cycle, born together and destroyed together."
Marcel imagined his face must look completely constipated right now.
Suddenly, the bronze eagle on the knocker blinked its eyes, came to life, and flew onto Marcel's shoulder.
"That tattered old hat made a decent judgment for once. You're not a bad choice, kid."
It was the same voice as before, but its tone was no longer slow. It sounded much more lively.
"Er, excuse me... who are you?" Marcel was a bit baffled. What was going on?
"Me? I am a key left by Rowena, and a guide for potential candidates," it said, preening its feathers with its bronze beak. "You have passed the initial test and have earned the qualification to enter Rowena's secret chamber. Now, are you ready?"
"Ready?" Marcel was stunned. "No, I'm afraid not yet..."
The small bronze eagle flapped its wings, flew above his head, and cackled, "I was just asking."
With that, Marcel felt the world spin, as if his body were being turned inside out and compressed. It felt like Apparition, but he didn't feel the immense pressure and suffocation he had felt when Side-Along Apparating with others.
In just an instant, his vision cleared, and he found himself in a completely new place.
"The space within Hogwarts was reinforced by Rowena. Without me, no one can enter here," the little bronze eagle cackled.
Marcel nodded, his gaze constantly shifting over the enormous, neatly arranged bookshelves in front of him.
It was not an overly spacious room, certainly not as large as Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets. Marcel roughly estimated it to be at most half the size of the library.
But here, aside from a desk and an armchair in the far back, the space was almost entirely occupied by giant bookshelves that reached the ceiling.
Here, he could smell a rich and unique fragrance of ink, which involuntarily relaxed the guard Marcel had been keeping up until now.