Witcher at Hogwarts

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Dumbledore led Ethan up several flights of stairs until they finally reached the seventh floor. They stopped in front of a peculiar tapestry depicting a rather unusual scene: trolls in tutus wielding oversized wooden sticks or bones, mercilessly beating a hapless wizard in a pointed hat.

The wizard, clearly outmatched, lay curled on the ground, enduring the trolls' relentless blows.

Ethan couldn't help but find the tapestry amusing despite its absurdity. However, as he and Dumbledore approached, the trolls on the tapestry froze mid-swing.

Slowly, they lowered their sticks, straightened up, and, to Ethan's astonishment, saluted Dumbledore.

The battered wizard, who moments before had been subjected to their aggression, dusted himself off and offered Dumbledore a polite tip of his hat.

Dumbledore returned their gestures with a warm smile before addressing Ethan.

"Hogwarts is full of secrets, Ethan," he began, gently brushing his hand against the wall opposite the tapestry.

Almost instantly, a smooth door appeared where there had been nothing but solid stone. Its design was seamless, blending perfectly into the corridor, save for a polished brass handle that gleamed in the torchlight.

Dumbledore stepped forward and opened the door with ease. Ethan followed, curiosity alight in his eyes.

Beyond the door was a vast, silent chamber. The space was cathedral-like in its dimensions, with towering walls formed by piles of bizarre and eclectic objects.

The heaps of forgotten or hidden items reached high into the dim heights of the room, creating the impression of a miniature city built from years of accumulated secrets.

"This," Dumbledore said with a smile, "is the Room of Requirement. A secret space within Hogwarts that reveals itself to those in need. Its magic is remarkable—the room transforms into whatever one requires most at the time of discovery."

Ethan gazed around, wide-eyed, as Dumbledore continued.

"When I was a student," Dumbledore reminisced, "I once drank far too much pumpkin juice at a Christmas feast. While searching for a toilet, I stumbled into a lavishly decorated room filled with the most extravagant chamber pots I'd ever seen. It was truly unforgettable."

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Later, I returned out of curiosity, but the room had vanished. Eventually, I found it again—that time, when I was tired and famished. It had transformed into a cozy space with a table laden with delicious food and the softest bed imaginable."

He ran a hand along the wall, his voice tinged with awe.

"This room always appears when it's needed most. That is its wonder."

"Amazing," Ethan said, taking in the sheer scale and mystery of the room.

Dumbledore nodded. "At present, it seems to be a hiding place for students—though judging by the chaos, they have many secrets."

He chuckled, gesturing to the piles of oddities.

"And, of course," Dumbledore added, his tone turning more serious, "Tom once hid Ravenclaw's diadem here."

"Didn't he think it might be discovered?" Ethan asked, incredulous.

"Tom's pride was always his greatest flaw," Dumbledore replied calmly.

"He believed himself untouchable, his plans infallible. That arrogance left gaps in even his most 'perfect' schemes."

Ethan nodded thoughtfully, recognizing how Voldemort's overconfidence had created vulnerabilities in his otherwise meticulous efforts to conceal the Horcruxes.

"Ethan, I called you this time because I wanted you to meet someone important," Dumbledore said, his expression serious as he looked at Ethan.

Then, in a soft but commanding tone, he called out, "Ms. Grey, please come forward."

As his words lingered in the air, a slender, pearl-white ghost emerged gracefully from the towering piles of debris. Her ethereal form shimmered faintly in the dim light.

She was strikingly beautiful, with flowing, waist-length hair and a robe that trailed elegantly behind her as she floated forward.

The ghost paused in front of Ethan, her translucent figure hovering inches above the ground.

"Ethan, this is Helena Ravenclaw, daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw," Dumbledore said with a warm smile.

"Hello, My Lady," Ethan greeted politely, inclining his head toward the ghostly figure.

Helena Ravenclaw returned the gesture with a graceful bow, her presence regal yet tinged with sorrow.

"Helena," Dumbledore began gently, "we would like to hear the story of the diadem once more."

At the mention of the diadem, Helena's serene expression shifted to one of deep melancholy. Her radiant form seemed to dim, her glow fading as if burdened by the weight of old memories.

"My mother crafted that diadem," Helena began softly, her voice carrying both pride and regret.

"It granted the wearer extraordinary wisdom. I longed for such wisdom, for the fame and respect it would bring. But when I begged my mother to let me wear it, she refused me time and again."

She paused, her gaze distant as if reliving the moment. Finally, she continued, her tone heavy with guilt.

"So, I stole the diadem. I fled Hogwarts, traveling far from here. For a time, I achieved some recognition because of the diadem's power."

Her voice wavered, the shame of her actions evident. The once-luminous ghost seemed to grow dimmer still.

"My mother… she fell gravely ill," Helena said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Even after I had betrayed her so cruelly, breaking her heart, her only wish was to see me once more. She sent someone to find me—a man who loved me deeply."

Helena hesitated, her expression darkening. "That man was the Bloody Baron. My mother knew he would stop at nothing to bring me back. But when he found me, I refused to return. He became enraged. The Baron has always had a temper. His anger, his jealousy of my freedom, and my rejection of him… they drove him to violence."

With trembling hands, Helena raised her cloak, revealing a dark, spectral wound on her chest. The sight was haunting, a scar of a tragedy long past.

"He killed me in his fury," she said, her voice hollow.

"When he realized what he had done, his regret consumed him. In despair, he turned the same weapon on himself. To this day, he remains bound in chains, repenting for his sins."

Helena's gaze dropped, her translucent form trembling with the weight of her confession.

Ethan, after a moment of somber silence, asked the question that lingered in his mind.

"What happened to the diadem? Where is it now?"

Helena's eyes flickered with a trace of light. "When I saw the Baron approaching in the forest, I panicked. I hid the diadem in a hollow tree before he reached me. It remained there, undisturbed, for years."

"Where was this tree?" Ethan pressed.

"In a forest in Albania," Helena replied.

"I had fled far from Hogwarts, trying to leave my past behind."

Ethan leaned forward slightly. "Miss Helena, have you ever told anyone where the diadem was hidden?"

Helena hesitated before lowering her gaze. "I spoke of it only once. To a young man… a charming yet unsettling stranger. He sought me out, asking about my mother's diadem. I told him what I had done."

Her voice broke, and she turned away, as if unable to bear the memory of her regret.