A little story began to circulate in the Borderlands.
When encountering a rarely seen black cat, a wizard should welcome it with the utmost openness and joy.
Then, wait for good luck.
In the Muggle world, black cats often symbolize ominousness, fear, and mystery.
But in the Borderlands, where only wizard souls exist, the spirits readily believed this story.
A wizard obsessed with adventure passed through the forest. Seeing flowers blooming in a desolate land, he left satisfied, carrying this story with him.
A kindly old grandmother passed through the forest. She smiled, touched a blooming rose, picked up a seed, and walked down another path.
A stern-looking middle-aged man approached. If Sean had been there, he would have recognized this man as identical to the statue he saw in the Chamber of Secrets, though with an even longer face.
He glanced coldly at the wooden hut erected in the desolate land, then bid farewell to the place with his scepter in hand.
In any case, the story began to spread.
Through four people.
Inside the hut.
The fireplace burned, flames flickering, as warm as it had been more than ten centuries ago.
They sat quietly, occasionally exchanging a few words.
Eventually, the conversation inevitably turned to a cat, a cat with pitch-black fur.
"Like a star..."
Helena said, her voice very low.
"Stars in the night, silent as the cosmos, distant and bright.
When you need them, no words are necessary. Just look up, and the stars will accompany you for a while."
Rowena listened, her book placed furthest away, a smile on her face.
---
There were no wizards running around the Black Lake, and the Forbidden Forest had become a blurry expanse.
Hogwarts Castle had fallen into slumber.
It was a night where the stars were exceptionally bright.
Sean walked through corridors where portraits murmured in conversation, the Book of Wizards holding the old book he had taken from Rowena Ravenclaw's studio.
The Owl Gentleman had given it to him, telling him:
"In the wizarding world, the continuation of knowledge is the first priority."
The yellowed parchment recorded some secrets of the magical world, such as the Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance.
This made Sean's steps lighter than he could say.
[Those few wizards who have been lucky enough to observe the process (I prefer to spend hours quietly in this tower, hoping to catch them in action) agree that the Quill of Acceptance is more lenient than the Book of Admittance.
A mere hint of magic is enough to tempt the Quill. The Book, however, will snap shut, refusing to be written in until it receives sufficiently clear evidence of magical ability.]
Very interesting.
Sean read on:
[In fact, the Book of Admittance's strictness serves a purpose:
Its record of keeping Squibs out of Hogwarts is near perfect. Non-magical children born to wizards occasionally have a faint aura of residual magic clinging to them because of their parents.
But once their parents' magic no longer surrounds them, it becomes clear they have no ability to cast spells.
The Book of Admittance rejects such individuals.
The sensitivity of the Quill of Acceptance, paired with the strictness of the Book of Admittance, has never made a single mistake.]
Fascinating magical artifacts.
Sean thought, hoping to find even more interesting records within.
Just as he was walking, immersed in the magical world, a door suddenly opened and pulled him in.
"Headmaster Dumbledore?"
Sean looked at the familiar circular room, realizing something.
"I've been wanting to talk to you," Dumbledore said, examining him with a smile, the tips of his ten long fingers pressed together.
"I must ask you, Sean, is there anything you wish to tell me," he said gently. "Anything at all."
"Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore."
Sean replied immediately.
"Ohoho..."
Dumbledore's beard twitched, revealing a look of delight.
They sat in chairs in the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore looked at the young wizard through the steam of his black tea, seeming to recall where to begin.
"At Ilvermorny..."
Sean took out a book stained with a few purple flowers from the rest ritual. It was titled The Book of Ghosts.
"Lady Isolt taught me some knowledge about ghosts. By the way, Lady Isolt was a ghost herself.
Then..."
Dumbledore listened with a smile and asked, "Then what?"
"I sent her on."
Sean said truthfully.
"Ohoho—"
Dumbledore's smile froze for a second before his beard twitched happily again.
"Death is a day of mourning for the living, but for ghosts, it is a holiday of finally finding rest," Sean added.
"It seems next time you go to the Borderlands, you'll have more signposts," Dumbledore said, gazing into the quiet darkness outside.
"Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore. Also, I have already met Lady Isolt.
I asked her to help find some specific people," Sean continued.
"Ah..."
Dumbledore's expression became solemn. It took him some effort to ask, "Then, did Headmistress Sayre..."
Sean shook his head gently.
"No, Lady Sayre told me that the paths of two souls do not cross easily. However, she did find a special wizard."
The kettle in the Headmaster's office whistled, the bubbling sound interrupting their conversation for a few seconds.
"What you have seen and explored is a realm never touched upon in records.
Sean, so, who did you meet?"
Dumbledore remained kindly in appearance.
"Lady Ravenclaw."
As Sean spoke, the snow accumulated on the eaves of the Headmaster's office, as if overburdened, slid smoothly off and landed on the snowy ground below the castle with a soft thud.
"An interesting story," Dumbledore smiled.
"Mm..."
Sitting in the chair, Sean naturally understood Headmaster Dumbledore, or rather, the wish of an old man.
He felt slightly disappointed.
"Walk slowly, walk steadily, Mr. Green.
You know this to be true.
Well, what did you do next? Is the book in your hand a relic of Ravenclaw?
Honestly, even I didn't know the details of the Book of Admittance so well," Dumbledore said, taking a sip of black tea, steam misting his eyelids.
"I sent the Grey Lady on," Sean continued.
"Oh, cough cough..."
Dumbledore choked slightly, a rare occurrence.
"Well, well. It seems you didn't throw her a party like Sir Nicholas?" he said with a hint of teasing.
As for sending away the ghost of Ravenclaw... it didn't matter. He always had to be more lenient with certain wizards...
"I don't think that's necessary..."
Sean thought seriously. After all, this was the biggest holiday for a ghost, as important as a wizard's birthday.
Although he had never celebrated his own birthday.