Soft white light filtered through the forest, holding the space in a gentle hush.
Beside them stood a moss-covered stump, and along the winding path nearby, motes of fluorescent light lay scattered like fallen stars.
There were so many streams that the Wampus Cat could hear the constant babble of flowing water.
"Is that your question?"
Ravenclaw was silent for a long moment, her voice sounding clearer now, as if piercing through a veil of mist.
"The Grey Lady—that's what we call the ghost of Ravenclaw House, Helena Ravenclaw," the Wampus Cat spoke quickly, his time being limited. "Lady Ravenclaw, she allows me to call her that... She fears death and wanders Hogwarts. I don't think she's at peace."
"So, have you been entertaining many unnecessary and absurd thoughts... my heir, what should I call you?"
Ravenclaw avoided the topic of Helena entirely, asking about Sean instead.
"Sorry, I don't think that's important, Lady Ravenclaw."
The Wampus Cat's voice held a note of confusion. He glanced nervously at the rising mist around them.
A few seconds passed, yet it felt like centuries.
The Wampus Cat's whiskers twitched dozens of times.
"Helena..."
Ravenclaw seemed resigned. The frequency of her blinking slowed noticeably. Her pale blue eyes no longer tracked the twitching whiskers of the cat; they were like a still lake, no longer reflecting the path of flying birds.
"Come closer, my heir. What kind of story do you wish to hear?"
Puzzled, the Wampus Cat tentatively took a few steps forward, only to be pushed directly to Ravenclaw's feet by an unseen force.
Ravenclaw slowly sat down on the large rock, and the book she had placed there slid off, landing squarely on the Wampus Cat's head.
"...What are you... worried about?"
The Wampus Cat asked, his paw resting on his head.
"Druids, those who know the oaks well... they believe death is not the end of the soul, but the first step toward paradise.
But for lost souls, for fearful souls, death is merely eternal torment."
Ravenclaw gently removed the old book from the Wampus Cat's head and lightly stroked his silver-streaked black fur.
"What if there was a magic that could send a ghost on?"
The Wampus Cat couldn't help but shake his fur. He understood.
Ghosts are immortal. This had been the consensus of the wizarding world for ages—so much so that the wise Ravenclaw didn't want him to realize the cruel truth: that two people who yearned for each other would never meet again.
"Perhaps there is..."
Ravenclaw seemed to recall something and opened the old book that had just fallen.
Mid-sentence, her voice suddenly evaporated into the air. Her gaze fixed on the page, as if her hearing and comprehension had to traverse a long journey before reaching her mind.
In those few seconds, only the occasional flutter of her eyelashes in the light proved that time had not completely frozen.
The Book of Ghosts, the page clearly read.
"My heir, was it you who sent Sayre?"
She asked, her voice wavering for the first time.
"Yes."
The Wampus Cat replied. His mind raced, and as he watched the mist threatening to engulf him, images of the Grey Lady flashed through his thoughts.
Opportunities are always fleeting, he thought.
"Do not worry."
Ravenclaw suddenly smiled, a radiant expression.
The Wampus Cat looked up abruptly. He saw a thick thread extending from the mist around his own body. It trembled violently, pulling him back toward the Borderlands.
"Surprised? My dear?"
At the tip of Ravenclaw's finger, the thread was pulled taut.
How can someone have such profound love for a person they've never met?
The Wampus Cat didn't understand.
"So, when you return to the Borderlands next time, will you have a direction?" Ravenclaw asked.
The Wampus Cat nodded, a very human gesture.
With the thread, no matter how far or blurry the distance, Sean could find his way through love.
"Come onto my shoulder, my heir."
Ravenclaw said, a serene smile playing on her lips as she looked at the Wampus Cat—which seemed far too large to curl up on a wizard's shoulder.
Isn't it marvelous? In this forest, he was like an unexpected breeze.
"Now, where does the story begin..."
Ravenclaw's voice sounded like a distant whisper. The Kneazle standing on her shoulder remained silent, listening quietly as snow suddenly began to fall in the forest.
"Long ago, in my younger years, I created three treasures: a castle that breathes, a diadem that seemed to possess wisdom, and a small, warm miracle—my daughter, Helena.
I devoted much of my time to cold stone walls and ancient parchment. The castle's staircases became increasingly intricate, the diadem's light increasingly dazzling...
You know the story that followed. Except for the truly wise... desire always easily conquers wizards."
Ravenclaw paused for a while, seeming to reminisce.
"You forgave her long ago, didn't you?" the black cat asked softly.
"Why would I hold a grudge?" Ravenclaw smiled gently.
"In the world of ghosts, if no one holds them in their thoughts, they gradually lose their wisdom and emotions.
But Lady Helena Ravenclaw never realized this.
What I mean is... you have carried her through more than ten centuries," the black cat said, his voice equally soft.
"You are too young, child. You don't yet know that memory always erases the bad and magnifies the good.
It is because of this mystery that white wizards can bear the weight of the past," Ravenclaw explained slowly.
"I will come back," the black cat said, watching the mist rise once more.
He had his answer.
Ravenclaw stopped walking and watched the white snow fall onto his fur, like a dusting of powdered sugar.
"You ask nothing for yourself?" Ravenclaw said.
"At Hogwarts, I have already received enough."
The black cat's ears twitched.
"Happiness satisfies you so easily... Why do you ask for her?" Ravenclaw asked again.
This question stumped the black cat. He was still pondering it as wisps of mist began to wrap around him.
"Lady Ravenclaw..."
This was the specific title Helena Ravenclaw had given him.
"...once helped me get to class on time when the moving staircases were blocked," the black cat said.
This reason amused Ravenclaw completely.
Her eyes crinkled into crescents.
"Lady Ravenclaw and I are friends," the black cat added.
Ravenclaw looked at him.
Everything about him seemed so young, except for those eyes—green as the forest, deep and steadfast.
"May I ask one more question?" the black cat said suddenly.
He had always been curious how a ghost could stay in the Borderlands for so long.
"For anyone else, I would refuse. But for you, my dear, you may ask many things.
I will not refuse you," Ravenclaw agreed readily.
"How does a ghost spend dozens of centuries in the Borderlands?" the black cat asked.
But the world turned white again, the mist surging completely. He was rapidly pulled out of the Borderlands, unable to hear the answer.
Only Ravenclaw remained in the forest.
The snow melted on the ends of her hair as she spoke, as if to herself:
"Has it been ten centuries...? But the moment I think of you, Helena, the world rewinds in a halo of brilliant light.
Some things I thought were eternal, even time itself, are so fragile."