Rowena Ravenclaw's form shimmered into starlight, surging straight into the diadem perched on Erwin's head. He touched it lightly, marveling at the convenience of it all. With a mere thought, he vanished—or rather, turned invisible.
This was one of the diadem's powers, freshly discovered. Handy, no doubt. But though it had reshaped itself into a subtle crown fit for a man on his brow, Erwin had no intention of parading around like some pompous king. Absurd. He wasn't about to draw every eye in Hogwarts.
Erwin glanced around the starry void and frowned. How exactly was he supposed to leave?
He sighed. "Your Majesty? Are you awake?"
Rowena's voice echoed in his mind. "Speak to me directly in your thoughts! I'm bound to the diadem now, and it recognizes you as its master. I can hear everything."
Erwin nodded to himself. "Right. So, how do I get out of here?"
Within the diadem's inner space, Rowena looked sheepish. She'd overlooked that detail.
The next instant, she materialized before him. With a casual flick of her finger, the starry realm shattered like glass.
Erwin reappeared in the crumbling hut. Cracks spiderwebbed across the statue ahead.
He tilted his head doubtfully. "Your Majesty, what about this statue?"
Rowena waved it off. "Without my essence sustaining it, time's worn it thin. It'll collapse soon enough—don't fret. I'm heading back now; I can't wander far from the diadem. When you get the chance, take me to see Helena."
Erwin agreed with a nod.
Her spirit faded away.
Staring at the empty spot, Erwin realized he'd just pulled off something audacious. Had he essentially kidnapped Rowena Ravenclaw? His own personal founder-grandmother? Voldemort's schemes to twist the founders' legacies hadn't even taken root, and here he was with an unexpected prize. Talk about striking gold.
He stepped out of the hut, tilting his face toward the bright moon overhead, and stretched. Freedom at last. That ancient ward had its flaws—he'd spent a full decade inside, yet his magic reserves hadn't budged an inch. Unreasonable, really. Had they refilled in there, he'd have emerged ready to duel Dumbledore toe-to-toe.
Drained as he was, Apparition was out of the question. He'd walk back, recover some strength once clear of the Forbidden Forest, then Apparate to his dorm.
As for visiting Helena, that could wait. Rowena's words suggested she needed time to prepare. If she were truly eager, she'd have insisted on going straightaway. Better to let her sort her thoughts—who knew what family reunions with ghosts might stir up?
Navigating the Forbidden Forest paths, Erwin felt no unease. Magic or no, he still had his M134 Minigun tucked away. Any creature fool enough to lunge at him would learn the hard way about Muggle ingenuity.
Nearing the forest's edge, he snapped his fingers and Apparated back to his dorm.
His eyes fell on the soft, wide bed. A wave of nostalgia hit him—he'd truly missed this comfort.
After a quick freshen-up and sheet change, he collapsed onto it.
"The Slytherin dorms have been rebuilt!"
Erwin jolted upright. "Your Majesty, a warning next time? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"
Before he could finish, starlight coalesced, and Rowena appeared by the window, gazing out at the Black Lake.
"Nostalgic, isn't it? Not as elegant as Ravenclaw Tower, nor half as refined, but Hogwarts... it pulls at the heartstrings all the same."
Erwin's expression soured. Where did she get off knocking one house to praise another?
He sighed. "Your Majesty, I'm knackered and need some shut-eye. Feel free to take in the view."
Rowena nodded. "Sleep, then."
Erwin added, "Just say the word if you want to see Lady Helena. I'll make it happen."
Her face tightened, but he pretended not to notice, closing his eyes and drifting off.
Rowena watched him settle, murmuring, "Clever boy." A fond smile betrayed her—the sharpest mind in wizarding history, felled by the timeless ache of motherly contradiction.
Meanwhile, in the Ravenclaw common room, before the founder's statue, Helena—known to most as the Grey Lady—gazed up with hollow eyes, brimming with regret and grief.
A sudden flicker of starlight danced across the stone.
Helena started. "Mother? Is that you?"
The statue stood silent, unmoving.
She bowed her head, despair etching her features. "I must be imagining things. Even if she heard me, she'd have no reason to come. I'm the thief, the betrayer. Forgive me, Mother—I can never make this right in person."
With a heavy sigh, she floated upward and slipped through the wall, gone to wander the castle's shadows.
Up in the Slytherin dorms, atop the highest tower in Erwin's room, Rowena lingered by the window. As a spirit, tears were beyond her, but sorrow etched deep in her gaze.
"Helena, my daughter, my greatest joy. I heard you—I've never held blame. Wait for me. Once I've spoken with Slytherin and pieced together the truth, I'll come to you. I'll say it myself: I forgive you. Always."
On the bed, Erwin's eyelids twitched faintly, his breaths steady but uneven, lost in restless dreams.
As dawn broke, the first sunlight cresting the horizon, Rowena's form dissolved into faint sparkles.
A precise knock echoed at Erwin's door.
He stirred groggily, waving his wand to unlock it.
Charlotte stepped in, offering a slight bow to his tousled form. "Prefect Erwin, time to rise."
He rubbed his eyes and nodded. "Right, another day. Wait outside, Charlotte—I'll be quick."
"As you wish, esteemed Prefect." She retreated with another bow.
Erwin swung his legs over the bed's edge, the weight of his newfound "guest" lingering like an unspoken secret. Whatever came next with Rowena and Helena, he'd handle it his way—carefully, cleverly, and on his terms.