Taking a portrait to-go was truly a peculiar notion.
But how could a portrait be taken away?
Sean didn't understand. He hoped Mr. Owl could explain it more clearly.
"How exactly can I take you with me?" Sean asked.
He examined the owl portrait. Was he supposed to just grab it? He figured it shouldn't be that simple.
That wouldn't be very magical.
"Clever little wizard, you have made the right decision."
Mr. Owl pecked around the frame with his talons, making a loud thump-thump sound.
A breeze carrying the scent of damp earth blew past, and the third-floor corridor was bathed in a warm yellow glow.
With a grunt of effort, Mr. Owl thrust a talon out of the frame.
This scene made Sean's eyes widen slightly.
"What are you looking at?!" Mr. Owl squawked.
Sean looked down, and his Book of Wizards quickly flipped open.
"Clever little wizard, foolish little wizard, help me! I'm stuck—"
After a few seconds of silence, Mr. Owl cried for help.
Sean finally understood. He closed the book and tapped his wand. A soft vine gently wrapped around Mr. Owl's extended talon.
Soon, an owl's head, a pair of wings, and a roll of ancient parchment emerged from the frame.
The corridor was decorated with thick ribbons of holly and mistletoe, and the flowers Lockhart had arranged earlier were still blooming vibrantly.
Mr. Owl immediately took flight. Previously, he could only flutter inside the frame, but today, he circled the spires of Hogwarts Castle again and again.
"I have completed Ravenclaw's mission!" he shouted.
"I am flying!" he squawked noisily.
This scene naturally caught the attention of a certain old wizard. He looked towards the window, and the stained-glass pane opened automatically.
Below the window, a battered kettle bubbled; outside the window, a unique owl soared.
He wore scholarly gold-rimmed spectacles and clutched a yellowed parchment in his talons.
"Ravenclaw's owl, inherited by Ravenclaw's heir... how interesting..."
Dumbledore smiled, and even the trouble Minerva McGonagall had brought him seemed to dissipate.
He sat down and began to deal with the "paperwork the Deputy Headmistress couldn't finish."
In the third-floor corridor, a few snowflakes drifted in through the stained-glass window, landing on Sean's brow.
He looked up, and a clump of "white snow" landed on his shoulder.
"This is freedom! I'm sticking with you!" Mr. Owl cheered.
"You aren't a portrait?" Sean asked.
"I am a noble eagle," Mr. Owl huffed.
Sean was confused. What exactly is Mr. Owl?
Alchemy?
Not exactly. Sean's intuition in alchemy had never been wrong.
Mr. Owl was undeniably alive.
The alchemy Sean had encountered, whether it was Wizard's Chess or portraits, were creations that seemed alive but could not be classified as living beings.
In other words, they possessed no life, only some personality.
But looking at Mr. Owl, preening his feathers and stretching his body... just as he said, he was a living eagle.
But what eagle could live for more than ten centuries?
If Voldemort knew...
"Have you always been able to come out of the portrait?" Sean asked curiously.
"Of course! I am a free eagle, the noble Raven!" Mr. Owl said proudly.
"Then..." Sean fell silent for a moment.
Looking at it this way, Mr. Owl had voluntarily lived as a portrait.
"The portrait extends my time. I have to be very, very careful..." Mr. Owl whispered in Sean's ear. "I'll tell you a secret... I was created to fulfill Lady Ravenclaw's mission. I am a loyal eagle."
More than ten centuries of loyalty left Sean speechless for a long time.
"Century after century, that damned tattered hat found no wizard... I could only wait, and wait...
Now my mission is complete—and a new mission has begun—"
Mr. Owl held his head high.
"What mission?" Sean was curious.
"Following you." Mr. Owl stared at Sean with his large eyes.
"And then?" Sean asked, puzzled.
What kind of mission is that?
"There is no 'then'." Mr. Owl hummed and hawed.
Sean fell silent again, but soon accepted it.
Mr. Owl had many secrets, and he himself was a massive secret.
Sean guessed this was Bio-Alchemy, rarely mentioned in alchemy texts. It was one of the most dangerous and obscure parts of the entire field.
Come to think of it, Dark Creatures like Basilisks and Acromantulas were likely products of Bio-Alchemy as well.
The darker, more dangerous parts.
And given Lady Ravenclaw's alchemical prowess—she designed Hogwarts Castle, after all—creating a unique owl seemed plausible.
...
Hope Hut.
Pumpkin Book Nook.
This was where Justin did his carving, and Sean occasionally came in to sit for a while.
At this moment, he was carefully placing Mr. Owl on a perch.
In his hand, he held an ancient roll of parchment.
It was the true embodiment of Ravenclaw's wisdom.
He cautiously unfurled the curled parchment. On the old paper lay silvery threads.
Like the threads in a Pensieve, they were dreamlike and drifting.
Sean stared intently at these silver threads, and soon the world before his eyes began to blur.
Outside.
The Hope Hut had lost its doorman today.
"Where is Mr. Owl?" Hermione frowned.
"This is the first time I've seen Mr. Owl absent." Justin looked surprised.
"Well, let's assume he went visiting. But how do we get in?" Ron yawned.
It was late winter, and snow was falling. A layer of white frost quickly covered the windows.
Having waited there for a long time, the tips of the three young wizards' hair were dusted with snowflakes.
"Class is starting soon," Hermione said, closing her book in disbelief.
Classes for second-year wizards started at nine o'clock, and they had arrived at the Hope Hut at seven.
For two whole hours, they hadn't seen a single feather of the owl. This was unprecedented.
Meanwhile, the owl they were grumbling about was standing on a perch, curiously pecking at a sweet potato roasting under the fireplace.
Steam occasionally puffed from his beak.
Beside him, Sean slowly woke up.
He felt like he had just had a dream, experiencing many memories, and his head was filled with vague knowledge.
"A one-time Magic Inheritance Scroll. First use. How do you feel?"
Mr. Owl hopped onto his shoulder.
First use?
Sean was too weak to speak; his head was spinning.
But with just one look, he roughly understood how the scroll worked. Ravenclaw had placed some of her memories regarding knowledge onto the scroll.