A Certain Magical Hogwarts

For days, everyone was abuzz with talk of the Death Eater and the Ravenclaw Ring. It had been ten years since the disappearance of the Dark Lord, and the reappearance of his followers—especially in Hogwarts—was enough to spark panic.

The legendary eagle-shaped bronze knocker was now the subject of rumors. 

No one quite knew why a reasonably sized relic—big enough to fit around one's neck—was referred to as "Ravenclaw's Ring." But that didn't stop it from achieving legendary status.

Each person seemed convinced that the knocker held immense powers—perhaps even enough to resurrect the Dark Lord.

Dumbledore replaced the missing knocker with a nearly identical one on the door of the Ravenclaw common room. 

But it was no longer "A Serene Big Sister's" voice that greeted them; instead, a mechanical monotone replaced it.

Gone were the usual groups of students eagerly gathering around the knocker, eager to answer its riddles. Of everyone, perhaps Prefect Robert was the most affected, he visibly disheartened.

Had he not been present in the Great Hall at the time of the theft, he likely would have been suspected of the crime, given his well-known fondness for the knocker.

Now in his seventh year, Robert had only a few months left at Hogwarts, and he had the perfect motivation to make the knocker disappear. 

Undeterred by rumors, he went red-eyed every day, patrolling near the door in hopes of catching the Death Eater himself.

William now had the Marauder's Map in hand, he no longer concerned with who had attacked Snape's storeroom but was rather fixated on learning more about this Death Eater. 

With so many names on the map, however, it was impossible to tell who among them was the culprit.

The twins were far more disappointed. "If only we'd used the map then," they would mutter, certain they could have caught the thief.

One afternoon in the library, the group gathered around their homework.

"Finished your assignments yet?" George asked William. 

He had just finished the year-two reference answers for Charms, courtesy of Cedric.

William nodded, handing over a thick stack of parchment. Fred took it, immediately using a spell to make copies. By now, they had refined the entire answers business into a steady trade.

Assignments for all classes and year levels circulated rapidly, and both the sellers and the students were delighted. But William was increasingly sure the quality of students might suffer with such "help." 

They were, in some way, just termites chipping away at Hogwarts' foundations. Still, they reasoned, "Who would let good money go to waste?"

With careful measures in place, the professors remained none the wiser. 

None of them handled sales directly, instead using an invented alias and dispatching owls from Hogsmeade. So far, no one had thought to report them, either.

Cedric emerged from the shelves, visibly frustrated. "Every copy of Hogwarts: A History has been checked out!" he muttered as he took a seat beside Cho and William. 

"The waitlist runs right up to Easter. Honestly, William, you shouldn't have left your copy at home."

William shrugged. "It does mention Ravenclaw's Bronze Ring, but I can't quite remember the details."

"We could ask a professor in class," Cho suggested.

Fred shook his head. "Not a regular professor, Cho."

"No," Cho said with a grin. "We can ask Professor Binns."

The History of Magic was the dullest class on their schedule, taught by none other than the ghost Professor Binns. 

Today, the class was as dreary as ever, with Binns droning on in a dry monotone, sounding as if a rusty tractor had sputtered to life.

Half an hour in, something entirely unprecedented happened: Cho raised her hand.

Binns, in the midst of his dull recounting of how Merlin guided King Arthur to the Sword of Kings, glanced up in surprise.

"You are…?"

"I'm Cho Chang, Professor. I wondered if you could tell us more about Ravenclaw's Ring," she said in a clear, bright voice.

Belle Lemp, who had been staring blankly out the window, snapped to attention, and Marietta sleepily lifted her head, looking confused.

Professor Binns blinked slowly, as if in a daze.

"This is…a history course," he croaked, his voice as dry as old parchment. "I deal in facts, Miss Chang—not myths and legends." He cleared his throat with a sound like snapping chalk.

"As I was saying," he continued, "Arthur received the Sword of Kings from the Lady of the Lake—a blade forged by elves in Avalon, with a hilt of gold and jewels embedded in the grip—"

He broke off mid-sentence, clearly surprised to see Cho's hand waving in the air again.

"Yes, Miss Chang?"

"I just thought, Professor, that legends must have a foundation in certain facts, don't they?"

Professor Binns stared at her in surprise.

"Well," he said slowly, "I suppose you could say that." He squinted, as though he'd never really looked at a student closely before.

"But, that story you mention is nothing more than a fanciful tale."

Now, the entire class was listening with rapt attention. Binns's old, tired eyes scanned the room and found every student was hanging on his every word.

"Oh…well, let me think then…Ravenclaw's Bronze Ring…"

"As you all surely know, Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago—the exact date is uncertain—by the four greatest witches and wizards of their age."

Professor Binns paused, squinting around the classroom before continuing, "Of the four, Rowena Ravenclaw was undoubtedly the most brilliant, a true goddess of wisdom. She was a wellspring of knowledge, possessing an almost divine intellect…"

Professor Binns then launched into a ten-minute ode to Ravenclaw, as though he meant to exhaust every complimentary phrase he could find. 

It became clear he was constructing an idealized, near-deified image of her in his mind.

By the end, William was nearly convinced the other three founders were little more than bumbling sidekicks in comparison, particularly Gryffindor and Slytherin.

It all boiled down to one point: Ravenclaw and her three useless companions.

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