"Not bad..."
The cold voice spoke again, cutting through Kyle's rising panic. "Your Occluncy has improved greatly since the last ti we t. That is why you were able to regain control so quickly."
Kyle exhaled deeply, the voice steadying his thoughts. At that mont, he realized he had erged from that overwhelming state of omniscience without actually removing Ravenclaw's Diadem. The clarity he regained was undoubtedly due to her intervention.
"Madam Ravenclaw?" Kyle asked cautiously.
"It is I."
Though he had suspected this, hearing the confirmation left him montarily stunned. It felt unreal, Rowena Ravenclaw herself was speaking to him.
"How is this possible..." Kyle muttered. Then, catching himself, he quickly added, "I an, it's been over a thousand years, and there's no Ti-Turner here."
"Salazar's Ti-Turner is rely a tool," Ravenclaw explained patiently. "Once it is known that you exist, ti ceases to be an absolute barrier... which is why Godric warned you not to tamper with the Ti-Turner."
"But..." Kyle hesitated, still trying to make sense of it all. "Didn't Mr. Slytherin promise to help deal with the effects of ti?"
"That's correct," Ravenclaw acknowledged. "Salazar carved a Forgetfulness Charm into the chamber. Its purpose was to ensure that once we left, we would forget our encounter with a student from a thousand years in the future."
"However..." She paused montarily before continuing, "this charm does not affect the Diadem. When I later realized I had forgotten sothing, the Diadem allowed to recover that portion of my mory."
Kyle nodded slowly. After witnessing the Diadem's abilities firsthand, he didn't doubt her words.
"But sealing away the mory was a decision we four made together," Ravenclaw added. "To avoid unintended consequences, I locked this knowledge within the Diadem itself."
"So... you now know everything that's happened over the past thousand years?" Kyle asked, still struggling to comprehend the full scope of the situation.
"If you an the fact that the Diadem was turned into a Horcrux... no."
Ravenclaw's voice remained calm, her tone as still and frigid as a frozen lake. It carried no trace of the anger Kyle had seen in Helena when she learned about the Horcrux.
"Aren't you angry?" Kyle asked, unable to contain his curiosity.
"I anticipated it, and I already know it. Why should I feel anger?"
Kyle blinked, surprised by her composure.
"When I first ntioned the Diadem during our initial eting," Ravenclaw explained, "your expression changed. In that mont, I realized that my Diadem had likely been made into a Horcrux. I also deduced the sa fate befell the objects representing Salazar and Helga."
"And Mr. Gryffindor?" Kyle ventured.
"You didn't look at him." Ravenclaw's voice carried a faint note of amusent. "When I ntioned the Diadem, your eyes instinctively glanced at the three of us, but you pointedly ignored Godric."
Kyle's mouth twitched. Was she serious? Could she really deduce all that just from a glance?
He rembered their encounter vividly: Ravenclaw had been the last to speak, and barely a second or two had passed before the vision faded.
How could anyone analyze so much in such a short ti? Kyle thought incredulously. She couldn't possibly have so sort of mind-reading magic... could she?
...
Kyle continued to ask questions, and Rowena Ravenclaw responded with remarkable patience, as though she were a professor addressing her student's curiosities.
Eventually, the conversation turned to the reason for her appearance—or more precisely, why this mory had awakened within the Diadem.
"Because of you," she said simply.
"?" Kyle frowned, puzzled.
"Yes," Ravenclaw confird. "I put this mory into a deep sleep, waiting for the right mont to awaken. And the young alchemist—Nicolas—happened to hold mories of you that were sufficient to rouse ."
Kyle couldn't help but feel a little odd. He was fairly certain this was the first ti anyone had referred to Nicolas Flal as "the young alchemist." Of course, coming from Ravenclaw's perspective, the description was technically accurate.
"But why?" Kyle asked. "I don't see what's so special about that you'd go to such lengths—waiting a thousand years, no less."
"There are two reasons," Ravenclaw explained. "First, although I already know it has happened, I still cannot bear to see my Diadem turned into a Horcrux. You've already destroyed one of this person's Horcruxes, and I believe you will continue to do so. If the temptation to wear the Diadem becos overwhelming, this mory of mine could save your life."
Kyle pressed his lips together thoughtfully. Until now, he had assud that Ravenclaw's essence within the Diadem was no different from the magical portraits in the castle—able to speak but otherwise powerless. Yet her words suggested she retained so of her original abilities, which was... unsettling.
"What's the second reason?" Kyle asked, curiosity driving him on.
This ti, Ravenclaw hesitated. After a lengthy pause, her voice softened.
"My daughter, Helena Ravenclaw," she said quietly. "When I regained this mory, I made a prediction... and I saw a ghost."
For the first ti, her tone faltered, trembling slightly.
"Only those who fear death, or wizards with deep obsessions, can turn into ghosts and return to the darkest corners of their mories. Please, tell her this for : no matter what she chooses to do, she must stop punishing herself so cruelly."
Kyle froze. The future?
Of course—when Ravenclaw had sealed this mory, Helena had yet to steal the Diadem. It was astonishing, though not entirely surprising, how closely they resembled each other.
Both mother and daughter had waited a thousand years to entrust him with a ssage.
"Madam Ravenclaw, if that is your wish, then I will not take this upon myself—" Kyle began.
"I can offer you a satisfactory price," Ravenclaw interrupted, her tone tinged with urgency. "Knowledge, wealth—anything you desire, as long as you can find her."
"No, you misunderstand," Kyle said, shaking his head. "I think this is sothing the two of you should say to each other."
With that, he placed his suitcase on the table and opened it. A pearly-white figure drifted out from within—Helena Ravenclaw, also known as the Grey Lady.
"This is where the Diadem is kept..." Helena began, but her gaze imdiately locked onto Kyle's head. "I suggest you take it off, or you'll drive yourself mad eventually."
"I'd love to, but I can't," Kyle replied with a helpless shrug. To demonstrate, he reached up and gave the Diadem a firm tug—and it ca off easily.
The atmosphere turned awkward in an instant. Monts ago, the Diadem had seed fused to his head, and now it was as if it had never been stuck at all.
"Believe , it really wouldn't co off before," Kyle said, his voice dry.
Helena raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. "Even Peeves wouldn't tell such an unconvincing lie."
"Seriously, I—" Kyle sighed, cutting himself off. "Never mind." Without further protest, he approached Helena and moved to place the Diadem on her head.
"It won't work. Ghosts can't touch anything," Helena said flatly. "I just need to see it."
Kyle knew this, but for so reason, an inexplicable urge pushed him to continue. A voice in the back of his mind assured him it would work.
He gently lowered the Diadem onto Helena's head, releasing it—and to his astonishnt, it stayed.
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