The Hogwarts Clock Tower was way more isolated than Richie expected. After basically walking a half-lap around the entire castle, he finally stepped out onto the ground-floor courtyard and spotted it.
It hit every stereotype of a gothic tower: a vaulted spire, four massive clock faces, glittering windows, and heavily carved stone walls.
Stepping inside the ground-floor atrium, the vibe was pure medieval art gallery. A massive pendulum hung dead center. The walls were lined with portraits of people "sleeping," broken up only by a few statues of knights leaning on broadswords.
As Richie paced the room, the painted figures subtly cracked their eyes open to watch the trespassing first-year—only to aggressively snap them shut the second he looked their way.
Finding no obvious stairs to the upper levels, Richie focused on the massive pendulum dropping from the ceiling. It hung completely motionless, looking entirely harmless.
His gut told him it wasn't just a decoration. He reached out and tapped it. Ice cold. Solid.
Stepping back, he noticed the pendulum didn't just attach to the ceiling; it passed through a small opening. The mechanism—and likely the stairs—were somewhere else entirely. Realizing he was at a dead end, Richie decided to hit the library and dig through Hogwarts: A History before trying again.
The moment he left the atrium, the "sleeping" portraits burst into life.
"Oh, another curious one!"
"No, no, no! I'm telling you, he's the one who found the fragment!"
"Ha! You literally say that about every student who wanders in here."
"Whatever. Guarding this place is boring. I'm going visiting."
After grabbing his stuff from his dorm, Richie hit the library, secured a copy of Hogwarts: A History, and settled in.
Time flew. A month passed in the blink of an eye. The castle stayed relatively quiet, letting Richie fully bury himself in his coursework.
Days were for classes; nights were split between the library and the abandoned third-floor classroom. The room had officially become the designated headquarters for their five-person study group (Richie, Neville, Seamus, Hermione, and Wendis).
They were still hopelessly stuck on the second riddle. Richie shared his Clock Tower theory with the group, and they even did a full sweep of the atrium together, but came up empty. Even Hogwarts: A History offered nothing useful on the tower. They had to put the investigation on ice.
By December, the first half of the Quidditch season wrapped up. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were both sitting pretty at 1-0. Slytherin was 1-1, and Hufflepuff was dead last at 0-2. Hufflepuff was going through it.
December 24th. Heavy snow blanketed the grounds as Hogwarts kicked off its two-week Christmas break. The castle was completely decked out, and Hagrid had literally dragged a massive pine tree out of the forest to set up in the Great Hall.
Early that morning, Richie packed his trunk and headed down with Terry and his roommates, waiting for the prefects to escort them to the Hogwarts Express.
He had originally planned to stay on campus and grind through his studies. But a letter from his mother completely derailed that. Elena Harland had prepared a massive Christmas feast and explicitly demanded he come home so she could see if he'd lost weight. You don't say no to that.
Most of the student body had the same idea. The Great Hall was packed.
"Alright, first-years, line up! I need to apply the Trace to your wands!" Professor McGonagall called out from the entrance.
"Remember: you are strictly forbidden from casting magic in the Muggle world. Not even a Lumos! The Trace will detect any magical signatures. If you trigger it, you will receive a formal warning from the Ministry. Severe violations will result in immediate detention."
She leveled a stern look at the crowd. "Unless it is a matter of absolute life and death, keep your wands put away. Proving it was an accident after the fact is a massive headache."
Richie pulled his vinewood wand and stepped up to the Transfiguration professor. "Merry Christmas, Professor."
McGonagall's strict expression softened into a warm smile. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Harland. Please, use these two weeks to actually rest. Remember: you cannot force progress. Do the right things at the right time, and the results will follow naturally."
Richie nodded obediently. McGonagall tapped his wand with her own. A faint, golden thread of magic shot out and dissolved seamlessly into the vinewood.
"Alright, head over and wait for your prefects," she instructed.
Richie tucked his wand into his robes and dragged his trunk to the side. Right on cue, Hermione pushed through the crowd and shoved a sealed letter into his hands. She was staying at Hogwarts for the holidays and needed him to act as her personal mailman.
Why not just use an owl?
"It's way too cold," Hermione stated flatly. "I'm not making those poor owls fly through a blizzard."
Richie just stared at her, completely speechless.
After exchanging quick goodbyes, Richie joined the rest of the students, following the prefects out into the snow and officially heading home for the holidays.