"Draco, interested in going on an adventure?" John asked as he looked at the quiet riverside in the painting.
"An adventure?" Malfoy said with a strange expression. "I thought only Gryffindors went on adventures at school."
"Uh... Draco, your insults are getting pretty sophisticated these days."
John could not help his face darkening.
He was starting to worry. If Malfoy kept developing at this rate, John suspected the entire wizarding world would end up hating him.
"Our first stop, Gryffindor Tower."
John snapped his fingers, and all the paintings returned to their places before he strode toward Gryffindor Tower.
Malfoy had no choice but to follow.
They headed toward Gryffindor Tower.
The Fat Lady was dozing off.
The little lions had been much more well-behaved lately. Even Harry Potter, who was notorious for causing trouble, had stopped sneaking out at night.
After all, he had personally witnessed how Filch had kicked a giant flying with a single blow.
A Harry who knew when to submit did not think his body was sturdier than a giant's.
Half-asleep, the Fat Lady noticed soone approaching.
"Password," she muttered irritably.
That glaring light was shoved straight into her face, instantly waking her up.
Raising a hand to shield her eyes from the piercing brightness, she saw two people standing there.
"What muddle-headed wizard is this?" she said angrily. "Move that wand away, or I'm going to lose my temper."
"Sorry, Fat Lady."
John had Malfoy move his wand aside and smiled. "I wanted to ask you sothing."
"J-John Wick?" the Fat Lady shrieked. She turned around, grabbed a mirror from the neighboring portrait fra, and carefully checked her makeup.
"Yes, Fat Lady," John asked politely. "I wanted to know about the riverside painting in Ravenclaw Tower."
"The riverside painting, Mr Wick?" After confirming that she still looked flawless, the Fat Lady held the mirror and said in confusion, "You an that empty painting?"
"That's right."
"That thing's been around for a very long ti," said the Fat Lady. "So say it might be the very first painting in Hogwarts."
"So people say it's connected to one of the four founders. As for which one, you'll have to ask Violet. She's downstairs, a wrinkled old portrait."
The Fat Lady added to John, "Though she's probably drunk."
"Thank you for your help, Fat Lady."
"No, I should be thanking you. You repaired my canvas before~ you rember, right?" The Fat Lady threw John a flirtatious glance.
Back in third year, when Harry's godfather Sirius Black had tried to break into the Gryffindor common room, he had still been a wanted criminal, so naturally the Fat Lady had refused to open the door.
As a result, Sirius had slashed her portrait a few tis, badly damaging the canvas.
John had happened to be grinding his Alchemy level at the ti, so he repaired the Fat Lady's portrait for her.
At the sa ti, he had also wanted to take the opportunity to study these moving portraits.
He had not expected the Fat Lady to rember it even now.
John shuddered slightly and coughed twice before saying calmly, "Draco, let's go find Violet."
Malfoy was getting sleepy. He yawned and complained, "Why are we wandering around in the middle of the night looking for so painting?"
"Then would you rather go back and stay hanging there?"
"Then let's find Violet."
Malfoy felt that hanging there all night would probably make all the blood rush to his head, so he chose to keep searching for the painting.
The two of them went from the 7th floor down to the 6th and found Violet among the corridor portraits.
She was a drunken witch, her portrait littered with barrels and bottles of unknown origin.
"She's sleeping more deeply than Crabbe," Malfoy comnted.
John grabbed Malfoy's wand and pointed it at the portrait. The witch nad Violet mumbled drunkenly in discomfort from the bright light before turning her face in the other direction.
"Looks like we'll need another thod." Seeing that she would not wake up, John decided to try sothing a little rougher.
He snapped his fingers, and Violet's portrait fra floated into the air.
Then it began shaking violently, causing the bottles and barrels inside to roll around and crash into each other.
Violet finally woke up with a terrified scream.
"What is going on?!"
Seeing that she was awake, John had the portrait fra fly back and hang itself properly.
"Hello, Ms. Violet," John said with a smile, as though he had nothing to do with what had just happened. "I have sothing I'd like to ask you."
"Oh, rlin's beard," Violet said, sitting on the ground and clutching the spot on her head where a bottle had struck her. "You can't be so rough."
"I'll make sure to educate him properly," John said, pointing at Malfoy. "He knows he was wrong."
Malfoy: "?" What did I do wrong?
In the end, John got another na from Violet.
Adalbert Waffling.
He was quite famous, the author of Magical Theory.
When John found him, the wig-wearing wizard in the portrait was not asleep like the others.
Instead, he had wandered into another painting and was sighing with emotion.
"The moon has always been beautiful. I prefer the night. It gives more inspiration."
Perhaps that was a common flaw among creators.
"That painting?" Leaning against the fra, Adalbert Waffling said, "That goes back a very long ti. It depicts Rowena Ravenclaw's hotown."
"A quiet riverside. Supposedly, there was once ant to be a girl in that painting, but she ran away from ho and never returned."
"A girl?" John paused. "Who was she?"
"Perhaps Ravenclaw's daughter," Adalbert Waffling said. "Rowena Ravenclaw's death was caused by illness. Historians speculate it was because she lost her daughter."
The four founders of Hogwarts had all been powerful wizards, and Rowena Ravenclaw had been the wisest witch of them all.
For an illness to take her life, she must have already been extrely weakened.
"A wise person does not fall in love," John murmured.
Not rely romantic love. Her love for her daughter had weakened the witch just the sa.
After thanking Adalbert Waffling, John headed toward the Slytherin common room.
"So we're going back?"
"I think I can ask an acquaintance about it."
Seeing Malfoy struggling to keep his eyes open, John added, "I doubt Daphne is still waiting for you at this hour."
"That's wonderful." Malfoy was so sleepy he could barely keep his eyes open.
They still had classes the next day. Staying in this condition was definitely not ideal.
"Power supremacy."
After giving the password, he walked back into the Slytherin common room.
John turned a corner and arrived at a corridor.
There, he saw the Bloody Baron floating motionlessly in the air.
"Admiring the moonlight?"
"No. Rembering."
The Bloody Baron noticed John. The ghost, stained with silvery blood, said, "I thought you would co looking for ."
"There really isn't anything happening in Hogwarts that escapes your notice." John was very curious about where the Bloody Baron got his information from.
"Sir Cadogan likes wandering everywhere," the Bloody Baron said expressionlessly. "He has a very big mouth."
"Well, I should've guessed."
John shrugged and asked, "So you know what I want to ask?"
"Rowena Ravenclaw," the Bloody Baron said heavily. "Her daughter."
"Looks like you knew her." John noticed his expression becoming grim.
The Bloody Baron nodded, his voice low. "Deeply."
"It was I who killed her." As he said those words, even the ghost's body seed to tremble.
"She pursued wisdom just like Rowena Ravenclaw."
"In order to beco wiser than her mother, she stole Ravenclaw's diadem. A grieving Rowena Ravenclaw ca to and asked to bring her daughter back."
The story was both complicated and bizarre.
The Bloody Baron had once been a nobleman, Sir Barrow, a wizard of great magical power.
He had always been in love with Ravenclaw's daughter and eventually found her in Albania.
The two had argued, and when Barrow confessed his love to her, she rejected him.
Blinded by anger, Barrow stabbed the woman he loved to death.
After regaining his senses, Barrow was overwheld with regret. He ended his own life and beca the Bloody Baron of Hogwarts.
"Ravenclaw never saw her daughter Helena one last ti. Before she died, she seed to have sothing she wanted to say to her."
The Bloody Baron's body gradually faded away.
"That painting was sothing Rowena Ravenclaw painted for her daughter. Helena hated it and drove her own image out of the painting, which caused Ravenclaw to grow weaker and weaker."
"When Helena was little, the two of them used to spend ti there together. But as Ravenclaw beca increasingly busy, they never returned to that riverside again."
The ghost vanished.
John stood there in thought.
"Ravenclaw, who pursued wisdom...."
He stepped to where the Bloody Baron had been floating monts ago and looked ahead.
The Grey Lady was sitting there.
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