"Tom, what is wrong?"
The tremors had ceased, yet no teacher appeared. Andros and the others quickly noticed the flicker in Tom's expression.
"It is nothing," Tom said, lifting a hand to calm them. "Just wait. She should arrive shortly."
He truly did not know how to judge the system anymore.
For safety, did it simply seize every fragment of a soul it found and drag it in?
If that were the case, why not summon Voldemort outright? Every Horcrux, including Harry's incomplete fragment, would collapse instantly.
But this was no Dark Lord.
An Immortal Legend?
Voldemort did not qualify.
Still, who exactly had just been "processed" by the system? Who in this world possessed a lingering remnant worthy of that title?
Tom fixed his gaze on the sky.
The answer came swiftly.
White light gathered overhead, blinding in intensity. Even Andros had to narrow his eyes.
When the radiance faded, a figure stood revealed.
A woman.
She appeared scarcely older than twenty five. Her skin was smooth as carved jade. Beneath flowing robes lay a full, graceful figure that revealed its contours only when the fabric shifted in the air. Her hair fell in waves like the sea itself, a deep, luminous blue. Her dark eyes carried unfathomable depth.
The brief confusion in her gaze sharpened almost instantly.
Information flowed into her mind.
Her pupils trembled once, then steadied.
She descended lightly to the ground, her gaze passing over Andros, Grindelwald, Ariana.
Then she looked at Tom.
"Rowena Ravenclaw," he said before she could speak.
Within Hogwarts, statues of her stood in Ravenclaw Tower and in smaller alcoves. Yet the living presence before him far surpassed cold stone.
The aura was unmistakable.
Scholarship. Wisdom. Tranquility. A mind that shimmered like a polished blade.
No witch in history could counterfeit that presence.
"Mr. Riddle."
Her voice flowed like a clear spring.
"The wonders of magic never cease to astonish me. I did not believe a mortal could wield such a forceful and commanding gift."
Tom rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"That part is not entirely within my control. Nor was the matter of your... residual soul."
"Residual soul?" Andros and Grindelwald turned sharply toward him. "What do you mean? Lady Ravenclaw did not truly die?"
A founder of Hogwarts alive in spirit for a thousand years?
Such knowledge would shatter the wizarding world.
Ravenclaw merely smiled.
"I died long ago, Mr. Riddle. I left behind a fragment only because a wish remained unfinished. For a thousand years it slept, unawakened. In that long silence, I came to understand the answer."
Though she smiled, regret lingered in her eyes.
"This realm of yours is preferable. No endless sleep. Instead, I may witness a millennium I never knew and converse with minds across ages."
"You remained for Helena," Tom said quietly.
Her gaze sharpened with surprise.
"You know of that?"
"You sent Baron to find her. By then Helena had fled to the forests of Albania. Baron eventually found her. They argued. He stabbed her through the chest."
Ravenclaw's composure shattered for a fraction of a second.
Her hair lightened to a brilliant blue. Frost rippled across the ground.
Andros stepped forward, conjuring a barrier of radiant light that held the chill at bay.
The founder drew a slow breath.
"I apologize."
"If someone murdered my kin," Andros replied evenly, "my reaction would be far less restrained."
She inclined her head.
"Thank you."
Her hair darkened once more.
"Please continue, Mr. Riddle."
"After Helena's death, Baron came to his senses. Horrified at what he had done, he turned the blade upon himself. Both became ghosts. History does not record when they returned to Hogwarts, but they became the resident spirits of Ravenclaw and Slytherin."
Tom paused briefly.
"Baron often wanders near the Astronomy Tower. Perhaps in hope of glimpsing her. Yet they have never spoken. Helena now calls herself the Grey Lady. Only a handful of Ravenclaws have conversed with her."
He did not mention what came later. Voldemort's deception could wait. Some dignity was owed.
"Thank you," Ravenclaw said softly.
A sigh escaped her.
"I erred. I should never have sent Baron."
"I agree," Tom replied bluntly. "You have never excelled at emotional matters. Your relationship with your daughter was strained."
"An accurate observation," she admitted without hesitation. "Often it was not ignorance. It was assumption. I believed she understood without my speaking it."
Grindelwald gave a faint nod.
He understood that flaw all too well.
It was easy to assume that brilliance was universal. That others would see what seemed self evident.
History had proven otherwise.