Erwin gasped, momentarily stunned.Ravenclaw tilted her head. "If your magic is strong enough, you can wield some of your lifetime powers even after death—and perhaps amplify them a bit. The starlight I command now? I toyed with it for amusement while alive. Death has only sharpened the edge. If you're keen to learn, I'll teach you how to borrow the stars' power right now. Then you die, and barring mishaps, you'll gain abilities like mine. Sound tempting? Fancy dying to give it a whirl?"
Erwin's expression soured. Die just to test it out? Was this a game?
His lips twitched. "Pass, Your Majesty Ravenclaw. Hogwarts' workload is brutal enough—no need for extra lessons. But I'm curious about this star-borrowing trick you mentioned."
Ravenclaw let out a theatrical sigh, her translucent face falling in mock disappointment.
Erwin blinked. Had this sly old ghost truly been plotting his demise?
"It's not as grand as it sounds," she continued, waving a hand. "Mostly astrology at its core. I adore the stars—their mysteries, their allure. I even started an astronomy class at Hogwarts, but so many wizards dismiss it as mere Divination. Fools. Master it properly, and you can tap stellar forces with truly formidable might."
Erwin's eyes sparked. "For battling foes? Boosting your strength? Calling down meteors?"
Ravenclaw shot him an odd look. "Such violent notions! No mortal could tame stars like that."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Then what 'formidable might' did you mean, Your Majesty?"
She smiled dreamily. "Haven't you ever felt utterly radiant, bathed in starlight?"
Erwin stared. "That's... it?"
"Well, not quite," she admitted. "There's one supreme gift."
Hope flickered in him again. The Four Founders' legacies were never straightforward.
Pride lit her ethereal features. "Starlight refines the skin—smooths it, enhances beauty. Had I not fallen ill so young, I'd have been the wizarding world's first eternal youth!"
Erwin exhaled in exasperation. Of course. What else?
His brief tension evaporated. He'd been daft to expect profundity from Ravenclaw. Merlin must have sent this spectral prankster to test his patience.
"Your Majesty," he said evenly, "perhaps we should discuss the inheritance."
With a flourish, Ravenclaw summoned the diadem and settled it atop her flowing hair.
Her presence shifted—regal, distant, like a queen descended from the heavens.
Erwin averted his gaze. Did the diadem hold some enchantment? Her aura had transformed in an instant.
She conjured a mirror framed in twinkling starlight and admired her reflection, adjusting the band.
At his words, she glanced over casually. "Inheritance? What of it?"
Erwin's jaw dropped.
Was she backing out? No—impossible. This was Rowena Ravenclaw, paragon of wisdom.
His face hardened. "We had an agreement, Your Majesty."
The mirror vanished with a wave. "Ah, yes—the legacy. Very well. Having claimed the diadem, I, Rowena Ravenclaw, co-founder of Hogwarts, bestow upon you the right to pursue my house's inheritance. But first, a trial awaits. Young wizard, are you ready to face it?"
Erwin eyed her warily. It sounded straight out of a Muggle video game, an NPC doling out quests. Eerily scripted.
She caught his dubious glance. "Tradition demands it. No need for your say-so—the trial commences! We hail from the lakeside, wise and learned, ever eager to delve into knowledge, distinct from the common folk. We possess foresight; our name is Ravenclaw!"
In a blur, she swept her arms wide. Starlight from the chamber surged toward her, coalescing into a cozy study: bookshelves groaning under ancient tomes, a sturdy desk, a simple bed against the wall, and a ladder for reaching the highest shelves.
Before Erwin could blink, an invisible force lifted him, depositing him gently inside.
The space sealed shut.
Dizziness faded, and he found himself standing by the desk, the chamber's glow muted behind an ethereal barrier.
Curious, he scanned the room. Books everywhere, but no instructions, no glowing runes. What now?
Minutes ticked by in silence. Erwin's frustration mounted. Was this the trial? Figuring it out blind?
Outside, Ravenclaw's form flickered, as if straining against her ghostly limits. She dabbed at her brow—though ghosts didn't sweat.
"Launching the inheritance rite takes a toll," she muttered. "Hope the lad pulls through. Failure means a decade's wait to try again. He's sharp, though—more patient than most first-years. Should manage. Hang on... did I forget to explain the trial's rules?"
Realization dawned, and she grimaced.
She shook her head. "He's clever; he'll puzzle it out. Probably. Ah, whatever—let him stew. Could take ages. Time for a distraction."
Reaching into the void, she grasped at empty air. Her expression soured.
"Bloody hell, left it behind. Too soon for him to tangle with that tome. I'd best keep watch—don't want it corrupting the boy."