Marcel took a tour of the chamber and found that the not-so-large secret room was almost entirely occupied by bookshelves.
Looking down, he could see two metal tracks laid into the smooth stone floor—the bookshelves could slide left and right along them.
Because of this, there was only a gap wide enough for one person to pass through between the shelves; the rest were packed tightly together. If someone needed to access a different shelf, they could push the bookshelves to move the gap to their desired position.
"Why not just use an Undetectable Extension Charm here?" Marcel asked, puzzled.
It was truly hard to believe. This was Rowena Ravenclaw's secret chamber, but there was not a trace of magic in the air. They hadn't even used an extension charm to expand the space, instead utilizing every inch of it physically, which made the entire room feel quite cramped.
"Didn't I just say? The space within Hogwarts has been reinforced!" the little bronze eagle shouted. "'Reinforced,' you understand? All space-related magic is unusable, unless it was preset in Hogwarts before the reinforcement. Nothing else will work."
"Which means," Marcel said thoughtfully, looking around, "this place was created afterward?"
The little bronze eagle blinked, flew to the top edge of a bookshelf, and stared at Marcel, who was engrossed in a book, for a good while.
"Smells like that old geezer Salazar. Always trying to trick people into talking," it muttered to itself.
After a while, seeing that Marcel was completely lost in the book, it spoke up. "Stop reading those books for now. You'll have plenty of time to come here and read them in the future."
"For now, come over to the desk," the little bronze eagle took flight, flapping its wings and landing on a small perch on the desk.
Hearing this, Marcel reluctantly closed the book but held it in his hand, unwilling to put it back.
"Sit, sit. It's been a long time since anyone sat here," the little eagle said, stretching its wings. "Open the middle drawer. There's a box inside. Take it out."
Inside the drawer, there was nothing but an old wooden box with bronze corners.
"What's inside?" Marcel asked curiously, but he didn't open it rashly.
"Don't worry! It's just a piece of paper. Rowena called it the 'Scroll of Truth'," the little eagle said. "But whether that's its real name, nobody knows."
Marcel carefully opened the box and saw that it indeed contained only a scroll of paper tied with a ribbon, resting on a piece of fine blue velvet.
Just as he was about to pick it up and see what secret it held, the little eagle interrupted him.
"You now have the right to make a choice," it said. "Open it, do your utmost to understand it, and then help your school solve a trouble left over from the past. Or, close this box, do not touch that trouble, and let it wait for the next candidate to make this choice."
Marcel was stunned. He frowned and asked, "What's in it for me? Or, what's the catch?"
"If I choose the latter, can I still read the books here?"
It was clear that the books held an extraordinary attraction for Marcel. Just now, he had only briefly glanced at one of them and had already seen how precious they were.
"The books, of course you can read. No matter which you choose, or even if you don't choose, you can come here anytime. But this choice can only be made once. You must understand that," the little eagle replied in a calm tone.
Hearing this, Marcel immediately moved to close the lid. But just as the wooden box was about to shut, he paused.
He remembered what the little eagle had just said: Rowena called it the "Scroll of Truth."
This meant that for Rowena Ravenclaw, what was recorded on this scroll was content that could be crowned with the name "Truth."
"I'm afraid all the books here combined are not as important as this thin piece of paper in the box," he couldn't help but think.
"What is this trouble at Hogwarts? Can you tell me about it first?" Marcel hesitated.
The little eagle shook its head in a very human-like way. "That, I do not know. Perhaps that tattered old hat would know. Its owner has a loose tongue, maybe it let something slip at some point."
It paused, then switched to a serious tone. "But I must remind you, Rowena never told me the answer to this problem. Are you sure you want to know?"
Hearing this, Marcel's frown deepened.
To be honest, anyone with a bit of sense probably wouldn't choose to pick it up. But Marcel couldn't suppress his curiosity and desire for knowledge. He knew that ever since receiving his Hogwarts letter, he had fallen deep into the exploration of magical knowledge, unable to pull himself out.
Marcel was, by nature, a person who loved to explore such mysterious knowledge. He found it truly difficult to refuse this "Scroll of Truth" that was right within his grasp, even though he knew there might be a big trouble waiting for him.
Unsurprisingly, after hesitating for a long time, he opened the lid again and reached inside...
Early the next morning, the sun had just peeked over the horizon, casting the first rays of dawn onto Hogwarts Castle. Many students were still lingering in their dreams, but Marcel was already up.
Or rather, he had hardly slept at all last night.
When he was sent back to the entrance of the Ravenclaw common room, the little bronze eagle, having returned to its place on the knocker, opened the door for him. He was then stared at coldly by Helena for a long time.
He had to say many nice things and go through a lot of trouble to appease the ill-tempered ghost lady. Afterward, with a forced smile, he made a lot of small talk with her before dragging his weary body back to the Hufflepuff dormitory.
"The next trial will come when you have made some progress in your research of the 'Scroll of Truth'." That was the last thing the bronze eagle had said.
As he lay in bed, thinking he would sleep for as long as he could, he found he couldn't sleep at all. His mind was filled with the strange characters he had seen on the "Scroll of Truth."
Marcel had read many books on ancient runes before, but he had never seen characters like those.
The strokes were loopy and winding, somewhat like cursive, but each character was distinct. At a glance, they looked like they had been casually scribbled by a child, but upon closer inspection, one could find a strict pattern within them. It was clearly a special script.
What made Marcel find it even more wondrous was that every single character was truly imbued with magic.
As he stared at them, the characters would emit a wave of magic, conveying all sorts of different information to him. Although he didn't quite understand what that information was expressing, it didn't stop him from being fascinated by it.
And the most crucial point was this: when Marcel tried to pick up a quill to copy them, he found that although what he wrote looked similar, it was just an ordinary character. He couldn't feel anything from it.
He lay in bed thinking for a long time, until dawn, but he couldn't come up with anything of value.
The next few weeks passed peacefully enough.
After his trip to the Ravenclaw secret chamber, his days became even busier. Although Hermione still often came to him to discuss some study-related questions, the rest of his time was completely occupied by various kinds of research.
"Should I apply for a Time-Turner?"
One day, Marcel sat at a reading table in the library, looking at the growing mountain of books in front of him, and couldn't help but think this. But he immediately dismissed the idea himself.
"I feel like the things I need to research will just increase. Better not..."
Marcel shook off the curiosity about the Time-Turner that had sprouted in his mind, stretched, and revitalized his spirit. Just as he was about to dive back into his research, a voice came from behind him.
"Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"
Marcel turned his head and immediately saw Hagrid's enormous figure.
Hagrid shuffled over to Harry and the others not far away, hiding something behind his back. He was wearing his moleskin overcoat, which looked very out of place.
Marcel saw at a glance that it was a book about dragons.
"Dragons?" Marcel blinked, a slightly dazed expression on his face.
He watched as Hagrid lowered his voice and whispered something to Harry and the others, then left. Afterward, after a few words among themselves, Hermione went to where Hagrid had been and returned with a stack of books.
"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon. He told me so the first time I met him," Marcel heard Harry say.
"But it's against the law," said Ron. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping a dragon in the back garden."
Ron was speaking when he suddenly paused.
"And you can't tame them. It's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."
"But are there wild dragons in Britain?" Harry asked curiously.
"Of course there are," said Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job trying to conceal them. Our wizards have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."
Hermione leaned forward as if to say something, but then she turned her head back.
"Marcel, do you want to come along?" she said. "To Hagrid's hut."
Marcel thought for a moment and realized he could use a break.
"Then let's go have a look. Maybe Hagrid really did get one. I think the chance to observe such a powerful creature up close would be quite good," he said with a smile and a nod.