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Helena Ravenclaw left after uttering a aningful sentence.
Ian was left deep in thought, gazing after her. It wasn't until his stomach gave a rather determined growl for the umpteenth ti that he scratched his head and set off in the direction of the Hogwarts kitchens.
"Transfiguration is a discipline that delves into the essence of magic. Perhaps it can do more than simply alter what a wizard perceives. If applied to ghosts, it might yield unforeseen results."
"After all, transfiguration can change anything within the magical world, and ghosts are undoubtedly part of that world."
"No one has successfully cast spells on ghosts before, but because I can step into the Twilight Zone, I'm not bound by the sa rules."
"If this works... it could open up a whole new field of research." Ian's perspective on last night's events might differ from Helena Ravenclaw's, but no one could predict what groundbreaking discoveries might stem from that difference.
Of course, Ian loved to research, ponder, and explore, but right now, his top priority was addressing his empty stomach. From last night until this afternoon, he hadn't eaten a thing.
His small legs carried him swiftly down the corridor, and Ian disappeared around a corner. Monts later, a portrait of Godric Gryffindor, who had been gleefully playing a ga of "hide and seek" with a hellhound across the various paintings of Hogwarts, ca tearing into view.
"Lend your sword!" Godric bellowed. Of course, as a portrait, he couldn't wield real magic, but he firmly believed his painted swordsmanship could rival his past self's legendary skill.
The hellhound, though nothing more than a sketch Ian had mischievously enchanted with a hint of chaotic magic, had taken on a relentless pursuit. Yet Godric stood undeterred, ready to prove the might of Hogwarts' sword Mage. After all, what was a re painted beast to a hero of legend?
However, none of the portraits along the corridor responded to his cries. Portrait swords, after all, were rely extensions of the figures themselves.
Who would willingly part with a limb for a fellow portrait?
And even if they were inclined to assist, most of the sword-bearing figures fled faster than Godric himself upon seeing the hellhound snapping at his heels.
"Cowards! Where is your courage, your sense of justice, your loyalty?" Godric shouted, barely keeping ahead of the beast. The irony of the founder of Godric House having to issue such a scolding was not lost on him.
Even worse, his older self, the stoic and dignified Godric Gryffindor who resided in the grand stairwell, rely gave him a look of amused indifference. His pleas for assistance were t with nothing but chuckles.
In his desperation, Godric even turned to the students milling about the corridor.
"Help , brave young lions!" He roared.
But instead of assistance, all he received was a flurry of chatter.
"What the hell! It's Godric! And not just the usual one, but a whole different version!"
"Why's he being chased by a dog?"
"Maybe it's one of those portrait quirks, like that bloke on the seventh floor who's always getting beaten up by a troll. So kind of symbolic nonsense about perseverance, probably."
"That's deep. Your grasp of magical allegory is impressive."
... Godric's painted pride shattered.
"Perseverance? Allegory? What absolute rubbish!"
With a final yelp of exasperation, Godric bolted straight into the nearest sanctuary: Rowena Ravenclaw's portrait.
Within the serene confines of the library-thed fra, the chaos followed without pause. The hellhound, stubbornly obsessed with Godric, sent bookshelves toppling like dominoes. Volus fluttered through the air as the chase twisted between stacks of enchanted tos.
Godric, ever the opportunist, seized the mont and attempted to topple the shelves onto the beast. But Ian's mischievous magic had ensured that the hellhound, with its single-minded gaze, would pursue Godric and Godric alone.
"Rowena, save ! Save ! Save ! I'm about to get mauled!"
And so, amid the destruction of Rowena's carefully curated collection, the legendary founder of Gryffindor House continued his undignified retreat, pursued endlessly by his painted torntor.
No amount of books piled on it could stop its determination to reach Godric. To be fair, Godric's portrait did inherit the original's adventurous spirit. A two-legged man running for so long without being bitten by a four-legged dog showed remarkable agility, even surpassing the antics of the mischievous poltergeist Peeves in a chaotic chase.
However, even the most agile adventurer couldn't endure a pursuit lasting dozens of minutes. The hellhound might miss countless tis, but Godric, fearing the dreaded 'portrait pox,' couldn't afford a single mistake.
He was also incredibly stubborn.
Even after being chased like this, he refused to retreat to his own portrait sanctuary and let Ian have his way.
"Save ! Save ! Rowena! You've dealt with enchanted creatures before! You must know how to stop this beast! I've been completely set up by that little rascal from your house!"
Godric's portrait darted around Rowena Ravenclaw, who watched from her fra with a faintly amused smile. The two of them circled her portrait dozens of tis.
Finally, as Godric prepared to clamber onto Rowena's head to evade the hellhound, Rowena Ravenclaw's portrait could no longer contain herself.
"Why are you so troubleso even as a portrait?" She said, exasperation in her voice.
Yet, mingled with her exasperation was a sense of nostalgia, an echo of days long past. Ian Prince had once whimsically called the founders' dynamic "Ravenclaw and Her Best Friend and Two Idiots." Rowena couldn't deny the aptness of the description.
"It's that little mischief-maker from your house! Worse than you ever were! Just because he wanted to find the room I've hidden, he drew a crazed hellhound to tornt !"
Godric, failing to gain a proper foothold on Rowena's fra, managed to scramble atop a tall bookshelf. From there, he hurled down volus at the snarling hellhound below.
"Do you really think a magical affliction can affect a portrait?" Rowena remarked, her thousand-year-old smile tinged with amusent.
"If it bites , it won't be good! I can feel it, adventurer's intuition!" Godric huffed, flinging the last book he could grab.
"Save !"
He called out to Rowena again. The hellhound, undeterred, began clawing its way up the bookshelf. Godric, in turn, resorted to kicking it away in desperation.
"Sigh, why did you have to boast about your treasure room to that little one? You've brought this upon yourself." Rowena Ravenclaw raised a hand and blew a gentle breath toward the hellhound.
In an instant, the abstract creature that Ian had mischievously created lted into a puddle of ink. The dark liquid seeped out of the fra and dripped onto the corridor floor, losing all its magical potency.
"Whew, thank you, Rowena. Even as a portrait, you're as capable as ever." Godric clambered down, panting heavily, and gave Rowena a grateful thumbs-up.
"You're fortunate I was still here," She replied, her gaze drifting toward the corridor's end where Helena had disappeared.
"Left?" Godric asked, stepping closer.
But his expression swiftly changed, his eyes widening in disbelief. "You… you're different from us!"
At his words, Rowena Ravenclaw's portrait t his gaze, her expression unreadable.
"That little one won't stop until he gets what he wants. Whatever you've hidden to pass on to future generations, it would be wise to give it up soon. Otherwise, next ti, he might draw more than one hellhound."
With that, Rowena's portrait resud her composed smile. Her previously vibrant presence dimd as if she had beco one of those stiff, lifeless portraits with little trace of a soul.
"This is outrageous! Cheating! Absolute cheating!" Godric's portrait shouted.
"My original self never thought of such a trick! Eleven years ago, I bet Salazar pulled the sa stunt. So out of the four of us, only Helga and I played fair!"
Realization dawned on Godric. He pressed his face dramatically against Rowena's fra, as though peering through into her world.
(To Be Continued…)
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