Chapter 399: The Halo of Time

Soft white light scattered through the forest, cradling a quiet stillness.

Beside them was a moss-covered tree stump, and along the winding path nearby, tiny fluorescent specks scattered like stars.

There were so many streams that the cat could hear the gentle murmur of flowing water.

“Is this your problem?”

Ravenclaw fell silent for a long while, then her voice, as if veiled in mist, became much clearer.

“The Grey Lady, as we call Ravenclaw’s ghost, Helena Ravenclaw,”

The cat spoke quickly—its time was limited, after all.

“Lady Ravenclaw—she allows me to call her that—she… fears death, wandering through Hogwarts. I think it is not easy.”

“So you’ve developed many unnecessary, absurd thoughts… my heir, how should I address you?”

Yet Ravenclaw refused to speak of Helena, turning instead to ask about Xiang Xiang Xien.

“Forgive me, I think it is unimportant, Lady Ravenclaw.”

The cat’s voice carried confusion as it watched the mist rising around it, growing slightly tense.

Seconds passed, yet it felt like centuries.

The cat’s whiskers had trembled dozens of times.

“Helena…”

Ravenclaw seemed resigned. Her blink rate slowed dramatically; her pale blue eyes no longer followed the cat’s twitching whiskers, now still as a frozen Black Lake, no longer reflecting the flight of birds.

“Come closer, my heir. What kind of story do you wish to hear?”

The cat did not understand, cautiously taking a few steps forward—only to be pushed directly to Ravenclaw’s feet by an unseen force.

Ravenclaw sat slowly upon the large stone, and the books atop it fell onto the cat’s head.

“…What are you… worrying about?”

The cat, its paw resting on its head, spoke.

“Druids, those who know the oak, revere death not as the end of the soul, but as the first step toward heaven.

Yet for lost souls, for fearful souls, death is eternal torment.”

Ravenclaw gently lifted the old book from the cat’s head and brushed her fingers lightly over its silver-and-ink-stained fur.

“What if there were a magic to send ghosts away?”

The cat shuddered its fur involuntarily—it understood.

Ghosts are immortal. This had long been the magical world’s consensus, so even wise Ravenclaw had not wished for it to learn this cruel truth—that two souls bound by love would never meet again.

“Perhaps there is…”

Ravenclaw seemed to recall something, opening the old book that had just fallen.

She paused mid-sentence, her voice suddenly evaporating into the air. Her gaze fixed on the page, as if her hearing and understanding needed to traverse a long, arduous journey before reaching her mind.

For those few seconds, only her eyelashes trembled faintly in the light—proof that time had not entirely halted.

“The Book of Ghosts,” the page read plainly.

“My heir, was it you who brought Ser?”

She asked, her voice rippling with emotion for the first time.

“Yes.”

The cat replied, thinking of more—watching the mist nearly engulf it, memories of the Grey Lady flashing through its mind.

Opportunities are easily lost, it thought.

“Do not worry.”

Ravenclaw suddenly smiled, her smile radiant.

The cat looked up abruptly—it saw a thick line extending from the mist clinging to its own body. It shuddered violently, and the line yanked the cat back into the Threshold.

“Surprised, dear?”

Ravenclaw’s fingertip held the line taut.

How can one love someone they’ve never met?

The cat did not understand.

“Then, when you return to the Threshold next time, do you have a direction?”

Ravenclaw said.

The cat nodded, human-like.

With a thread of yarn, no matter how distant or blurred the horizon, Xiang Xiang Xien could follow love to reach it.

“Come up onto my shoulder, my heir.”

Ravenclaw said again, her lips curved in a serene smile, her gaze fixed on the cat—so large it seemed impossible to fit upon a wizard’s shoulder.

How strange, isn’t it? In this forest, he was like a wind, unexpected and sudden.

“Then, where does the story begin…”

Ravenclaw’s voice was a distant whisper. The cat perched on her shoulder said nothing, only listened silently, then watched as snow suddenly began to fall over the forest.

“Long ago, in my youth, I created three treasures: a castle that breathed, a crown endowed with wisdom, and a small, warm miracle—my daughter, Helena.

I devoted much of my time to cold stone walls and ancient parchment. The castle’s stairs grew ever more intricate, the crown’s radiance ever more dazzling…”

“You already know the rest of the story—except for the truly wise… desire always easily overcomes a wizard.”

Ravenclaw paused, as if recalling.

“You forgave her long ago, didn’t you?”

The black cat asked softly.

“Why would I harbor resentment?”

Ravenclaw smiled gently.

“In the world of ghosts, if no one remembers them, they gradually lose wisdom and emotion.

Yet Helena Ravenclaw never realized this.

I wish to say… you have walked for her across more than ten centuries.”

The black cat said, its voice equally soft.

“You are too young, child. You do not yet know that memory always erases the bad and magnifies the good.

It is precisely because of this mystery that White Wizards are able to bear the weight of the past.”

Ravenclaw explained slowly.

“I will come again.”

The black cat said, watching the mist rise once more.

He had received his answer.

Ravenclaw stopped, watching snowflakes settle on its fur like a dusting of sugar.

“Do you not seek anything for yourself?”

Ravenclaw said.

“In Hogwarts, I have already received more than enough.”

The black cat’s ears twitched.

“Happiness so easily satisfies you… then why do you seek for her?”

Ravenclaw asked again.

This question stumped the black cat. As mist curled around it, it continued pondering.

“Lady Ravenclaw…”

It was a title Helena Ravenclaw had specially given him.

“You helped me avoid being late for class when the spiral staircase was blocked.”

The black cat said.

This reason made Ravenclaw burst into laughter.

Her eyes crinkled into curved arcs.

“I am friends with Lady Ravenclaw.”

The black cat added.

Ravenclaw looked at the black cat,

Everything about him seemed youthful—except his eyes, which were as deep and steadfast as a forest, emerald green.

“May I ask one more question?”

The black cat suddenly said.

He had always wondered how ghosts could remain in the Threshold for centuries.

“For anyone else, I would refuse. But for you, dear, you may ask many.

I will not refuse you.”

Ravenclaw readily agreed.

“How can ghosts endure in the Threshold for centuries?”

The black cat asked.

But the world turned white once more—the mist surged fully, and it was swiftly pulled out of the Threshold, unable to hear anything further.

The forest was left with only Ravenclaw alone.

Her hairtips melted with snow; she spoke to herself:

Ten centuries?... But whenever I think of you, Helena, the world rewinds in a brilliant halo of light.

Some things I thought eternal—even time—crumble at the slightest touch.