People in Hogwarts, holding scripts and systems

Slughorn seemed a little tipsy, and he grabbed a piece of pie from the elf's tray and stuffed it into his mouth.

"Professor, I have a question I don't understand." Afro walked up to him with a goblet and said in a low voice, "It's about Ravenclaw."

"Well, if you want to know their training methods, I'm afraid I can't tell you." Slughorn burped and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.

"Professor, you misunderstood. I wanted to ask about something else."

"Your expression reminds me of someone." Slughorn slowly turned his head and looked at her with an unfathomable expression.

"Is it a bad memory?" Afro said.

"Oh no." He raised an eyebrow and took a sip of mead. "I wish I could be of help to you."

Afro turned around and led him to the corner, asking softly, "Professor, have you heard of the Ravenclaw Diadem?"

"You mean the Ravenclaw treasure?"

Slughorn looked off into the distance, as if lost in thought. "Hmm... let me think about where to start."

"Professor, we don't have to start from the founding of Hogwarts," Avro reminded.

"oh oh."

He touched his hat, and his deep voice slowly rang out, "You must remember Rowena Ravenclaw, the founder of Ravenclaw."

Seeing the girl nod, he continued, "Legend has it that anyone who wears the crown can become wiser. However, Rowena didn't expect that her daughter Helena would believe this and steal the crown and hide it away."

"But Rowena never said that?" Afro pointed out the loophole. "I read this story in A History of Hogwarts, and it didn't say who took the crown."

"Child, that's how we can be sure it was her daughter who took it." Slughorn smiled at her meaningfully. "It's precisely because she knows who it was that she won't tell you."

Avro was about to ask more questions, but Trelawney patted Luna's arm and suddenly laughed, which attracted Slughorn's interest.

"Harry, where have you been?" Ron looked at Harry who hurried in and gave him a puzzled look.

Harry thirstily picked up the wine glass and drank it all in one gulp. He looked around cautiously and said, "We'll talk about it when we get back."

The dinner was a success, at least that's what the host Slughorn thought.

"Snape said he would help him? Help him?!" Ron repeated in a high voice in disbelief.

"Shh!" Harry used his fingers instead of the wand to practice the Half-Blood Prince's spell, "If you ask me again, I will cast this spell..."

Ron immediately covered his mouth and shook his head vigorously.

The lounge was empty during the holidays, and snowflakes were drifting outside the window.

"Are you going to tell Dumbledore about their conversation?" Hermione wrote a few words on the parchment, then looked up at Harry.

Harry was silent for a moment. "I'm going to tell the people who can stop him, Dumbledore, and your father."

Ron looked at the snow-covered yard and frowned.

"Dad is still working overtime at the Ministry of Magic." He looked at Harry's silent face and added, "Of course, Dad will help you too."

"What happened in the Ministry of Magic?" Harry didn't mean to blame Ron. On the contrary, he knew his partner and rival very well.

"It's not the Ministry of Magic, it's Gringotts." Ron said with a frown. Mr. Weasley hasn't been home for a long time because of this incident, and they even had to separate during the Christmas holidays.

Hermione heard what she knew and enthusiastically pulled the Daily Prophet from a chair.

"According to people familiar with the matter, on the day of the accident, three wizards claiming to be officials from the Ministry of Magic came to Gringotts and said they were ordered by the Minister to conduct an inspection... However, the Minister insisted that he had never issued a notice..."

"It doesn't sound like a big deal." Harry leaned over to continue reading the plate on the right side of the picture. "It looks like the work of a political enemy."

"That's not all." Hermione continued reading the report, "...This incident caused damage to many vaults in Gringotts, involving many families, such as Goyle, Crabbe, Parkinson, Flint..."

"These seem to be the Death Eaters' vaults, right?" Ron said in surprise. "Could it be that some knight wizard is helping us?"

Harry stroked the edge of the newspaper. He didn't believe there would be any knights or righteous wizards.

He would rather believe that it was the action of Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix.

"Speaking of which, why hasn't Afro been in the lounge recently?" Ron wanted to discuss it with the girl, but he didn't see a familiar face sitting there.

Hermione put away the newspaper and continued to write her holiday homework, "She seems to have lost something important."

Afro was now wandering in the corridor like a ghost.

She walked lightly on the floor, the sunlight cut into patches by the hem of her skirt, passed a row of polished armor, and climbed a short spiral staircase.

"Merry Christmas, Nick." Gryffindor's ghost Nick was sitting in front of a window, looking at the sky sadly.

"Oh. Merry Christmas, Afro." Nick answered dejectedly. He looked very sad. Afro guessed that his application for membership was rejected again.

"What are you doing here in Ravenclaw?"

"Looking for a ghost."

"Ravenclaw?"

Afro nodded. She wanted to ask Helena, Lady Grey, what happened after she took the crown.

Forgive her. After experiencing two lives, Afro has long forgotten all these details.

"You came at a bad time. She's been very sad recently." Nick floated down from the window and floated in front of the girl. "I tell you, she must have been heartbroken."

"how do you know?"

Nick looked very understanding, floating up and down, "I have been in Hogwarts for a long time, and I already know the little thoughts of girls."

It turns out that ghosts can be so gossipy.

"There she is." Nick pointed to a young woman with long hair.

Afro looked in the direction Nick pointed and saw a slender ghost. She noticed that Afro was looking at her and floated over leisurely.

"I know you." Mrs. Grey's tone was not warm at all.

"Hello, Mrs. Grey." Afro knelt politely and gave a proper smile. "It's an honor."

"Indeed, you are very famous among the students. I see you appearing here all the time these days."

Helena's voice was neither cold nor indifferent, without a single ups and downs. Her condescending perspective made her look like the goddess of wisdom, looking down on humans with contempt.

"I don't think you need it."

"No, I need it, Miss Helena."

Hearing the name, Helena shuddered, and her transparent cheeks became much more solid. "Generation after generation of students have pestered me to inquire about its whereabouts."

Helena was still floating in the air, looking down at the tiny humans, "But they don't know that the greatest wisdom is themselves."