Helena's spectral form seemed to soften, absorbing Sebastian's unexpected praise. The ghost of the Grey Lady straightened, her melancholy demeanor replaced by a transient, proud dignity.
"My mother often said that after mastering these elemental runes, any competent witch or wizard could move beyond mere duplication," Helena explained, her voice gaining a clear, academic ring.
"They could then weave and adapt them into entirely new, advanced varieties tailored to their own needs, their own complex intentions. This castle itself is proof of that philosophy. The Communication Talisman you saw—etched by her own wand into the stone of this corridor—is one such advanced variety. It required a specific, intricately tuned Love Rune to activate."
A wistful shadow crossed her eyes. "When she was alive, my mother and I used this exact method to send private, instant messages back and forth between our separate studies here at Hogwarts. It was our secret language, encoded not by spellcraft, but by the specificity of our emotional bond."
She hesitated then, the ancient regret resurfacing, threatening to dissolve her momentary focus. She gathered her courage, her transparent hands clenching at the material of her gown."My mother was an extraordinary being," Helena continued, her voice heavy with a burden she had carried for centuries.
"In my young eyes, she was not just wise; she was the most intelligent sorceress the world had ever known, a dazzling, unattainable force of nature. Standing next to her, I felt… invisible. I felt ordinary, insignificant, despite all my efforts to achieve the same intellectual heights."
The confession spilled out, raw and painful, bridging the thousand years between them.
"And I could not bear my own perceived mediocrity," she admitted, a flush of spectral shame rising. "I was not content with being merely competent. I needed to be more. I needed to be equal, or even to surpass my mother, to be celebrated as the greater mind, the more famous witch!"
"That ambition drove me to the unthinkable. I stole her Diadem—the legendary Crown of Wisdom—believing its power would grant me the ultimate advantage."
Helena let out a hollow, mournful sound that was not quite a laugh. "You know now, of course, that the Diadem did not magically inject wisdom into the wearer. It was a sophisticated focusing artefact. Wearing it merely amplified the wearer's natural capacity, increasing their mental speed and refining their learning efficiency exponentially. All knowledge had to be earned, learned, and absorbed by the wearer themselves. It was an enhancement, not a cheat."
"After stealing the crown, I fled to the deepest parts of the Albanian forests, hiding myself away. I was obsessed with achieving some magnificent feat of magical knowledge—an invention, a discovery—that would force me to return to Hogwarts crowned in glory and honor. Only then, I thought, could I face her, the intellectual equal of Rowena Ravenclaw."
She paused, the weight of the next words settling the air around them.
"Then the inevitable came. My mother fell gravely ill. Dying. She longed to see me one final time, not as a student or a rival, but as her daughter. She sent a trusted man—a faithful former admirer who loved me with a fierce, possessive devotion—to find me."
Sebastian nodded, his mind supplied the name: The Bloody Baron. He remained silent, allowing the painful stream of memory to flow, the ghost finally recounting the raw, unedited truth of her final, fatal moments.
"But the very act of my theft, the years of self-imposed exile, had rendered me incapable of confronting her in humility. My pride was a wall; I dared not return. I was still empty-handed, still not worthy. I argued with the man who found me, refusing to leave the forest, determined to cling to my stubborn, foolish quest for glory. The Baron, driven by his own fractured love and the bitter desperation of failing his sacred mission to Rowena… he stabbed me to death in a fit of rage and despair."
Helena lowered her head, her shimmering form bowed with centuries of unresolvable grief. "I returned to Hogwarts as a ghost, forced to watch as the magical world mourned my mother, but she was already gone. I never heard her voice again, only the echoing, endless judgment of my own conscience."
Sebastian stepped forward, his gaze firm, meeting the spectral gaze of the Grey Lady.
"No, Helena. You will listen to me now," he interrupted, his voice cutting through her self-recrimination, strong and filled with the conviction of historical fact.
"Your fears are the final trick of your own pride. The record is clear: Rowena Ravenclaw never once mentioned the Diadem's disappearance to the other founders. Not Godric, not Helga, not Salazar. She kept your betrayal a secret until her dying breath."
He emphasized each word with the unwavering strength of logic. "She never sought retribution, never spoke a word of blame. She never told anyone that you had rebelled, or that you had stolen anything. She protected your name, Helena. She would never insult you in a message intended for her only daughter. Believe me, that Talisman does not contain a rebuke."
Helena stared, the core of her thousand-year trauma—the fear of her mother's ultimate disapproval—shaken to its foundation by Sebastian's certainty.
"Is that… truly so?" she asked, her voice wavering. "I am a ghost, Professor Swann. I have no power to cast that kind of highly specialized magic. I can only rely on your wisdom and your strength."
"Then give me the key, Helena," Sebastian commanded gently. "Tell me the specific texture of that old communication rune. We will encode the specific emotional frequency you and your mother shared—the complex love, mixed with rivalry, deep pride, and profound regret. The Love Rune of a daughter who longed for her mother's unconditional acceptance."
Helena, finally yielding to the truth, described the unique, layered focus she and Rowena had utilized—a complex weaving of maternal pride and academic ambition that formed the lock.
Sebastian raised his wand once more, closing his eyes and focusing not on his own memory, but channeling the raw, poignant grief emanating from Helena. He focused on the memory of that stubborn, proud, yet utterly devoted love, weaving the emotion into the Red Rune as he drew it.
The Regretful Love Rune appeared, glowing not with simple red, but with an agonizingly beautiful mix of scarlet and silver, pulsing with a deep, sorrowful resonance. It flew straight and true towards the Talisman in the wall.
Upon contact, the Talisman flared with brilliant, silent light, and a gentle, clear, and achingly familiar female voice filled the quiet corridor—the final, temporal echo of Rowena Ravenclaw.
"My dearest Helena, my brilliant girl…"
"I do not know if you will ever hear this—perhaps it is too late, perhaps you are alive and well in some distant, glorious place, having achieved the renown you craved. But in this life, we must always leave a small piece of ourselves behind, lest we be truly forgotten."
"My greatest sadness, child, is that I will die without seeing your face again. I regret so much—most of all, the foolish, prideful logic that drove my final decision."
"I should never have sent the Baron to find you. I trusted in his devotion, believing he would be gentle and merely persuasive. But you and he are both terribly willful souls—perhaps that is what led to this tragedy. In these final days, confined to my bed, I have thought of nothing else. It would have been better had I never sought you out, never known your whereabouts. Even if I lived forever not seeing your face, believing you were alive and safe in the deepest corners of the world, that would have been enough…"
"My life, my dear daughter, would have been enough, simply knowing you were alive."
"I know you took the Diadem. You were always so fiercely proud, so desperate to surpass me, and I understood that yearning. You felt you had to earn your way back, to return with greater glory. But listen to me now, Helena. I never for a moment blamed you for that small act. Anything your mother possesses—my wisdom, my Diadem, my reputation—was always, always intended to be yours."
"Your mother never reached out directly because I was foolishly waiting for you to conquer your pride and return on your own terms. I realize now what a profound mistake that was. Had I simply come to the forest myself, perhaps things would have been different."
"The world says Rowena Ravenclaw values Knowledge most, values Wisdom most, and values her Crown most. But your mother wants you to know the deepest, simplest truth of her heart: You are the most precious jewel I ever possessed."
"From the moment you were born; from the moment you took your first tentative steps; from the first clumsy pronunciation of 'Mama'; from the first erratic wave of your little wand—you eclipsed all other achievements. You are my greatest work, my heart's only masterpiece. I never cared if you became the most powerful witch; seeing you every day was joy enough."
"I would give all my wisdom, all my knowledge, and all my fame in exchange for a single, peaceful, safe life for you, my daughter. Find the one you love, live fully, and be happy until you are surrounded by the laughter of your own children and grandchildren. That is the only legacy I ever truly desired for you."
"Helena, I do not know if you have returned to this castle as a ghost to hear this message. But I pray you can forgive yourself. Let go of the shame and the worry. Move forward, my courageous girl. Remember, death is but the next great adventure."
"My illness worsens now. Perhaps, perhaps, we will soon meet again in a waking dream, and I will hear you call me 'Mother' one final time…"
The voice faded into profound silence.
Helena Ravenclaw stood motionless, her ghostly form shaking violently, tears—centuries of them—finally streaming down her translucent cheeks in silent torrents. She did not sob; she simply released the pain she had carried.
She gradually straightened, the grief lifting from her like a physical weight, replaced by a radiant, peaceful acceptance. She looked at Sebastian, her smile bright and clear, the darkness that had shadowed her spirit for a thousand years gone entirely.
"Thank you, Professor Swann," she whispered, her voice light as a summer breeze. "Thank you for helping me hear my mother's voice. I always believed the reason I was trapped here was the guilt of the Diadem, the sin of my rebellion, and the terrible way I died. I thought I was condemned to seek forgiveness forever."
Her smile widened, brilliant and pure. "I realize now that my only problem was my failure to forgive myself for being a proud, stubborn daughter. My mother wanted me to live, not lament."
The spectral lines of the Grey Lady began to blur, to thin, vibrating with a high-frequency energy.
"My inner conflict is resolved. I have heard her love. I can no longer exist as a trapped entity."
She laughed softly, a clear, beautiful sound. "Do not worry, Professor Swann. Be happy for me. I am finally free to move on. I will step boldly into that 'great adventure' she promised."
As her form continued to dissipate into motes of pure, silver E-Energy, a small, shimmering flask materialised in the air where her heart had been, gently descending to the stone floor.
"A final gift, Professor," Helena's voice echoed one last time, filled with affection. "The tears I just shed—the final, material expression of a thousand-year-old regret turned to peace. Ghost Tears are, as you know, very valuable material. Use them wisely, Sebastian."
Then, with a final, silent flash of silver light, Helena Ravenclaw was gone.
Sebastian walked over, picked up the cool, heavy flask, and looked at the empty corridor where a ghost had finally found peace.
"Goodbye, Helena," he said quietly, a genuine smile on his face. "Travel safely."
Sebastian stood there for a long moment, the flask of magical essence clutched in his hand. He had the full map of the emotional runes, the secrets of the castle's power source, and now, a precious, unique alchemical reagent. He knew exactly what his next project would be: applying Rowena's runes to a mundane object, charged by the potency of these Ghost Tears.
What do you think Sebastian should use the Ghost Tears for—a powerful, permanent anti-Dark Arts ward for the castle, or a personal alchemical creation?