"What is the beginning of eternity? The end of time and space, or the beginning of every end?"
The clear, measured voice of the bronze eagle-shaped door knocker echoed in the small, circular waiting room of the Room of Requirement. After delivering its cryptic challenge, the metallic guardian fell silent, its glassy eyes seeming to bore into Albert, demanding an immediate demonstration of wit.
Albert frowned, muttering the riddle aloud, dissecting the phrases. "I hate riddles," he confessed, his irritation genuine. He knew this was no random quiz; this was the key to accessing Ravenclaw's deepest secrets, and he had to be precise.
He stood before the eagle, his internal processor racing, not to guess the answer, but to understand the logic of the challenge itself.
This was a knowledge gate, not a test of raw intellect alone.
Albert realized he wouldn't be able to solve this immediately. The questions posed by the eagle ring were renowned for their variety and complexity. They rarely repeated for the same student on consecutive days. A student who couldn't answer the first time would be forced to wait, or, more commonly, learn the answer from a successful student entering or exiting the Ravenclaw Common Room.
That's the flaw in the barrier, Albert mused. The mechanism is designed to reward the seeking of knowledge, but it relies on social transmission within the house. For a non-Ravenclaw, that line of communication is cut off.
His initial thought—to stand by the Common Room entrance under a Disillusionment Charm and spy on the true Ravenclaw students—was immediately dismissed. It was too tedious, too reliant on chance, and too much like cheating.
Moreover, even if he gathered a list of previous riddles and their answers, the one the Room of Requirement used might be unique and specifically tailored to his highly analytical mind.
"This is a profound headache," Albert muttered, pulling out his enchanted notebook. He carefully transcribed the riddle, noting the exact phrasing and the emphasis on the core abstract nouns: Eternity, Time, Space, and End.
He recognized the danger of lingering. The magic of the Room of Requirement was notoriously fickle. If he spent too long failing, the room might dissolve entirely, or worse, deny him access for a period. Albert had the information he needed. He could retreat, process the data, and return when the solution was certain.
He turned and left the Room of Requirement, watching the door slowly melt back into the ordinary white wall of the seventh-floor corridor.
Albert reappeared in the Library, walking straight to the table occupied by his roommates.
"Where in Merlin's name did you go?" Fred asked, looking up from his haphazardly organized parchment. "Lee said you came in, then suddenly vanished, then walked out like you were having an internal crisis."
"I suddenly remembered a critical piece of information I needed to retrieve," Albert said, sitting down in the empty space reserved for him. He took out his notebook and slid the page containing the riddle towards the twins.
"What's this nonsense?" Lee Jordan leaned over, his eyes wide as he read the abstract challenge. "The beginning of eternity? The end of time and space? You've officially gone off the deep end, Albert. I should be worrying about the beginning of my detention, not the beginning of infinity!"
George was momentarily curious, but after a cursory glance, he shook his head and returned to his overdue essay on the uses of Mooncalf dung, muttering about priorities.
"You three complain about time-wasting, yet you are the ones facing detention for delaying your homework," Albert pointed out dryly. "Now, look at this. I don't expect you to solve it; I need to articulate my analysis aloud."
Albert took a piece of rough parchment and began to write, speaking slowly, deliberately deconstructing the riddle's architecture.
"The common mistake here is to assume the answer is a complex noun or a concept," he began. "For example, a famous riddle is: 'I have cities, but no houses. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. What am I?' The answer is a map. It substitutes one thing for another."
He tapped the new riddle with his quill. "This one is different. It's not asking for a noun that replaces those concepts. It asks for the common element that exists in the linguistic structure of these abstract ideas. It asks for the common denominator of their definitions."
He wrote out the keywords:
Eternity
time
space
every end
"The riddle is structured to misdirect the mind towards philosophical concepts—four-dimensional spacetime, cyclical chronology, etc.," Albert continued, ignoring the blank stares of his roommates. "But the eagle ring is magical, not metaphysical. The answer must be simple, elegant, and linguistic."
He circled the letters he had highlighted. "What is the beginning of Eternity? What is the end of time? What is the end of space? What is the beginning of every end?"
Albert tapped the parchment once, a faint thrill of intellectual satisfaction running through him.
"The answer isn't a concept. The answer is a letter."
He wrote the single letter in bold script: E.
"It fits every single constraint perfectly. The riddle is an elegant trick of English grammar, designed to filter candidates based on their ability to step away from complex philosophical reasoning and recognize a simple linguistic pattern."
The silence that followed was complete, broken only by the scratching of Angelina Johnson's quill nearby.
"Are you deliberately trying to make us feel stupid?" Fred asked, rolling his eyes again.
"I guess I'm not that stupid after all; at least I figured out the answer," Albert replied, packing away his notes.
"You solved it in ten minutes!" Lee Jordan exclaimed, shaking his head. "I still don't even understand the question! Where did you find this riddle, Albert? You wouldn't be attempting to break into the Ravenclaw Common Room, would you?"
"No," Albert replied, allowing his mouth to curve into a small, mysterious smile. "But I have found something more interesting."
Angelina Johnson, unable to contain her curiosity, finally looked up from her parchment. "Is that true, Albert? The answer is just the letter E? That doesn't look difficult at all."
"That's because you've already heard the answer, Angelina," Lee Jordan retorted immediately, echoing Albert's own previous observation. "The difficulty lies in realizing the question is about orthography, not cosmology."
"I think Albert should be the one leading the Ravenclaw house, not some of their prefects," Arya, another Gryffindor student, commented quietly. "But, Albert, you aren't actually going to attempt to solve hundreds of their riddles, are you? It's said some Ravenclaw students have solved over a hundred unique ones over their years here."
"That's an excellent idea," Albert replied, meeting her gaze. "Now that I know the format of the question, the rest is just data acquisition. I believe I will make time for this new challenge."
George finally looked up, his prankster brain immediately seizing on the social disruption this would cause. "Don't forget to call us when you go, Albert. I want to see the look on their faces when a Gryffindor solves the riddles faster than they can."
Albert pulled his Character Panel up discreetly, checking his recently accrued Experience Points. As he did so, a brand-new, complex quest banner materialized over his task list, pulsating with potential rewards.
New Quest
The Eagle Ring Challenge: You have discovered the delightful complexity of the Eagle Ring challenges. Demonstrate to the Ravenclaw students that they are not the only ones capable of solving these riddles by answering 100 unique Eagle Ring challenges in succession.
Progress: 0/100
Rewards: 10,000 Experience Points, 1 Skill Point, +100 Reputation in the Magical World, and Gaining a Specified Panel Skill (The specific skill will only be revealed upon completion).
Albert's breath hitched slightly. This was the largest single quest reward he had ever seen, surpassing even the Acromantula hunt. Ten thousand XP, a Skill Point, a massive Reputation boost, and a guaranteed, specified Panel Skill—meaning a brand-new talent would be instantly unlocked.
This was not a casual challenge; this was a full-scale pursuit of mastery. Solving one hundred riddles meant spending significant, focused time at the door to the Wealth of Knowledge.
"It looks like I have a new extracurricular activity," Albert murmured to himself, already planning his strategy. He would have to devote a week of serious study to obscure, lateral-thinking puzzles and historical trivia. He was no longer just a first-year student; he was officially a greedy looter of Ravenclaw's intellectual heritage, and the rewards were too great to ignore.
He carefully closed his notebook. The holiday homework, the theoretical rune studies, even the twins' detention seemed insignificant next to the massive goal that now loomed before him.
"I'll let you know when I need a lookout, George," Albert said, his tone entirely serious. "This will be more challenging than any homework."