Chapter 375: Ravenclaw Room

In the Great Hall, enchanted snow was falling onto the Christmas tree.

Beneath the ceiling dotted with cotton-like white clouds, colorful ribbons hung high.

Wizard Sean passed by the fireplace by the Great Hall and headed toward the eighth floor, where the Room of Requirement lay.

Along the four House tables, voices buzzed continuously.

Jia Jia Siting sat quietly reading the American Magical Weekly, while beside him, Harry and Ron sighed heavily.

They too held a newspaper—but it was the Daily Prophet, published in London, England.

It read:

【Arthur Weasley, Head of the Ministry of Magic’s Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Magical Objects, was fined fifty Galleons today for enchanting a Muggle automobile.

The enchanted car was discovered earlier this year after it flew away from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; recently, the school’s board member Mr. Lucius Malfoy demanded Mr. Weasley’s resignation.

“Weasley has tarnished the Ministry’s reputation,”

Malfoy told our reporter,

“He is clearly unfit to draft laws for us. His ridiculous Muggle Protection Act should be abolished immediately.”

Mr. Weasley declined to comment, but his wife told the reporters to leave—or she would let her house-ghoul loose on them.】

“Of course, the ghoul would do that.”

Ron forced a smile.

“I’m sorry.”

Harry’s throat felt tight, his voice rough.

At the side of the Great Hall, in a quiet corner, Wizard Sean paused for several seconds—he had seen Malfoy approaching Harry and the others.

And the group walking side by side would block Wizard Sean’s path.

“Arthur Weasley loves Muggles too much. He should have his wand snapped in half and join the Muggles.”

Malfoy sneered to Pansy beside him,

“Look at the Weasleys’ behavior—you’d never guess they’re pure-blood wizards.

Of course, my father always says the worst thing to happen to this school was letting Dumbledore be headmaster.

He adores Muggles. A respectable headmaster would never let a fool like Creevey into the school.”

Malfoy pretended to raise a camera and mimicked Colin with cruel, lifelike precision:

“Potter, can I take your picture? Potter, can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes? Please, Potter.”

He dropped his hands and feigned surprise as he stared at Harry and Ron.

Harry and Ron immediately stood up.

Jia Jia Siting frowned, slowly set down the American Magical Weekly, and stepped forward between Harry and Ron.

Neville pressed tightly against him, his wand already twitching at his waist.

Add Hermione, trembling with rage, and the group of young wizards here matched Malfoy’s party in sheer presence.

“Ha—”

Malfoy put on a calm front, focused only on Harry, and hadn’t noticed how many were gathered.

“Saint Potter doesn’t understand: some are merely foolish, while others are born noble, destined for greatness.”

With that, he turned and walked away with his group.

“He’s like a mosquito! Immature and stupid!”

Hermione snapped.

“If we punched him, what do you think he’d say… ‘I’ll tell my father—he’ll expel you all—’”

Ron mimicked mockingly,

“But I bet Hogwarts could expel a hundred Malfoys and still not expel us… after all, we’ve got—Wizard Sean!”

Ron’s sudden shout left everyone puzzled.

“Ron, you don’t need to yell like that…”

Harry whispered.

Hermione and Jia Jia Siting had already turned sharply toward the rear.

But there seemed to be nothing there.

Ron rubbed his eyes hard, wondering if he’d imagined it.

…

On the eighth floor, opposite the tapestry of the Troll Bashing Barnabas.

Wizard Sean’s figure appeared slowly at the end of the corridor; with a flick of his wand, it seemed as if an invisibility cloak peeled away from him.

He looked at the wall, where Barnabas still tried to teach the troll to dance, while the troll swung its club in rhythm around him.

After a long while, the moth-eaten troll finally stopped beating the ballet teacher and turned to stare at him.

It chattered something incomprehensible.

Wizard Sean had already walked past this wall twice; as he prepared to pass it a third time, the tapestry of the Troll Bashing Barnabas suddenly vanished, replaced by a painting of an owl.

“Mr. Owl.”

Wizard Sean stared at it.

“Clever little wizard, clever little wizard.”

Mr. Owl gripped the parchment tightly with his claws; his gold-rimmed spectacles were about to slip.

“Why cast a Confundus Charm?”

Wizard Sean silently emptied his memory and erected a firm mental barrier.

If the owl painting moved further, Wizard Sean’s Transfiguration would outpace the Confundus Charm by more than a step.

But Wizard Sean suspected it wouldn’t go that far—the owl painting had used a Confundus Charm, not Legilimency. His memories hadn’t been invaded; he’d simply forgotten the Ravenclaw Diadem.

That was precisely why he hadn’t noticed until now.

“Annoying Occlumency, annoying! Annoying!”

The owl painting muttered “annoying” several times before slumping to glare at Wizard Sean.

“Mr. Owl?”

Wizard Sean tilted his head slightly.

“A wrong house, a house with no connection to wisdom, a house piled with clutter… merely a resting place for house-elves—why would a wizard go there!”

Mr. Owl chirped excitedly, his chest covered in white feathers puffed out.

“Little wizard, clever little wizard, Ravenclaw chosen by the Gryffindor Hat after centuries—

When you uncover the secret of the Ravenclaw Room, you will truly witness Ravenclaw wisdom—the eagle soaring far in the sky needs no entanglement with trivial things.”

From Mr. Owl’s words, Wizard Sean sorted through all his thoughts.

So the Room of Requirement was merely a transitional creation of Ravenclaw’s, and the Wish Room might be its final form.

After all, the Room of Requirement cannot identify wizards, but the Wish Room can;

the Room of Requirement cannot connect to the Floo Network, but the Wish Room can…

And had they truly been guarding a mountain of gold without realizing it?

“The Wish Room—of course, you have the right to name it, but only when you truly understand knowledge will wisdom belong to you;

clever little wizard, clever Ravenclaw, mediocrity is a choice;

ever-changing human emotion is a choice;

but true wizards choose the more arduous path.”

Mr. Owl flapped his wings and said.