The Darkest Bequest (Hogwarts Mystery Book 1)

Chapter Twelve - Mad Plans

When I think of 1985, I think of achievements. I think of changing perspectives. I think of that feeling that comes when you're about to do something crazy or potentially lethal. 1985 shall be the year that I'll acquire mountains of knowledge. That I'll feed my friendship with Rowan, Ben and Penny. That I'll ignore Merula's attempts to irritate me. That I'll convince my friends to join me in a possibly dangerous quest. That I'll try to find the Cursed Vaults without being caught. That I'll find out, at last, what happened to my brother.

After some relatively peaceful days at my grandparents' house, with Grandpa working on his new novel and Grandma receiving clients to buy her potions, I am left with clearer spaces on my mind. The holidays gave me time to consider letting go of any reckless thoughts and that Mum will probably drown in depression and that there's not a glimpse of hope of Jake coming back home.

Then again, it was all just mere consideration.

Things will get better when your brother return...

Grandma's words are what gave me the right perspective. Not that she knows about anything I've been thinking about. No. She would explode if she even imagined what I'm planning. I didn't even share my thoughts with Rowan.

Yet.

The day before returning to school, I sit with my grandparents in the living room to have hot cocoa in front of the fireplace. My thoughts – loud and clear – are my constant companions. Grandpa and Grandma, lost in their own contemplations, have no idea what I'm up to. Grandpa lights his pipe and the vanilla scented smoke seems to relax every inch of me. Grandma, knitting a beanie to match my new sweater, flashes me a loving smile.

"Honey," she says, breaking the silence. "You never told us about the Sorting Ceremony. How was it?"

After that day, I haven't payed much thought about the Sorting Hat and his divergent thoughts on where to place me. Brave like a Gryffindor... Sensible like a Hufflepuff... Ambitious like a Slytherin...

"The Sorting Hat said that I reminded him of a which he once knew," I say. "Someone who was also thirsty for knowledge and longing for faithful friends."

"Well," Grandma says. "I know a few remarkable witches he may be referring to. Maybe even Rowena Ravenclaw herself."

I frown. "Really? Why?"

"She's Ravenclaw's founder, as you already know," she tells me. "An extremely intelligent and wise witch. She even created a diadem that would bring even more knowledge to whoever wore it."

"The one her daughter stole," I say.

She lifts her brows.

"Rowan told me about it," I tell her.

"Well, what Rowan forgot to mention is that Rowena's daughter, Helena, ran away with the diadem, far, far away from her mother's reach. She was desperately trying to surpass her own mother."

She stops knitting and rests the beanie on her lap. "Rowena felt extremely ashamed by her own daughter's betrayal and decided to hide it from everyone. Even from her fellow founders. One day, she fell terribly ill and her last wish was to see her daughter again. She would do anything just to hold Helena one more time. She asked someone to go after her. A man she knew was madly in love with Helena."

"And did he find her?" I ask, curious.

"Oh, yes," she says. "But when Helena refused to return with him to the castle, in a fit of rage, he stabbed her with his sword. Her book stained his clothes and he fell on his knees, overcome with guilts, and took his own life."